Transmigrating to the Qi Family - Chapter 160

The rooster crows four times. Xiao Si, the gatekeeper at the state capital’s yamen, rubs his sleepy eyes, gets up, dresses himself, and starts boiling water to wash up.

By the time he finishes his morning routines, he is once again a lively young man. 

However, describing him as “lively” might be a bit of a stretch. After several meals of not eating his fill, his face looks pale, and his energy is noticeably less vibrant than usual. Before stepping out the door, he can’t help but feel some resentment in his heart. Rumors have been spreading nonstop these days, and from them, he learns why the caravan and grain shops have ceased operations. If it weren’t for their Lord Prefect, the people of Cangzhou wouldn’t be facing the risk of starvation.

Despite these thoughts, as soon as he opens the yamen gates and sees the dense crowd of citizens gathered to demand justice from the Lord Prefect, he can’t help but worry for him. 

Among the crowd, some carry hoes, others shoulder poles, and a few hold curved sickles in their hands. The diverse array of tools, coupled with their uniformly angry expressions, gives the gathering an ominous and intimidating appearance.

Startled, Xiao Si barely pulls the gates open before slamming them shut again with a loud bang. 

He is well aware that riots among the people of Cangzhou aren’t unheard of. When even the most basic need to fill one’s stomach goes unmet, it’s only natural for people to act out in desperation.

Seeing the gates open and then shut again, the initially hesitant crowd grew increasingly enraged. They shouted:

“Open the gate! Hand over the corrupt official!”

“Greedy officials and scoundrels! Everyone has the right to punish them!”

Among the crowd, even scholars skilled at using words as weapons incite the people further.

“…”

Behind the gates, Xiao Si stands trembling. Listening to the tidal wave of voices, his face turns ghostly pale. Swallowing hard, he steadies his wobbly legs and hurries inside, shouting, “This is bad! The people are here causing trouble!”

His panicked cries alarm some of the unsuspecting servants cleaning the yamen, who join in shouting without fully understanding the situation. The yamen quickly descends into chaos. It looks as if, before the crowd can even storm in, they are already falling apart on their own.

“What is this shouting and screaming? Where is your decorum?”

The official in charge of morning roll calls, who has woken up early and been sitting in his office, walks out with a stern expression and reprimands them.

Xiao Si, as if finding his anchor, immediately steps forward and says, “Master He, there’s a huge crowd of commoners gathered outside. They’re carrying sickles, hoes, and such, shouting for us to hand over… to hand over…”

Master He, growing impatient, snaps, “Hand over what? What do the commoners want?”

Xiao Si, looking distressed, blurts out, “They want us to hand over the corrupt dog officials who made them starve!”

“What?!” Master He is startled, instantly recalling what the others said during the meeting convened by Pei Che yesterday. This situation is unusual. The commoners have come too quickly. Ordinarily, they wouldn’t confront the authorities unless the situation is truly dire, and as of now, it hasn’t reached that point.

“It’s true! They’re shouting outside, ready to fight and kill. If no one deals with this soon, I’m afraid they’ll storm the gates!” Xiao Si, now speaking more clearly, unloads all his concerns in one breath.

Master He steadies himself and instructs, “Quickly gather the staff and notify everyone in the rear courtyard. Have all the officials come immediately, especially the Prefect!” He emphasizes this point, knowing that the matter originates with the Prefect, and unless he personally addresses it, there will be no quelling the commoners’ anger.

“Yes!” Xiao Si replies and promptly gathers the cleaning staff, sending them to the rear courtyard to deliver the message.

One by one, the officials rush over, some with their official hats askew, others in wrinkled robes they haven’t smoothed out. All of them wear anxious expressions, clearly shaken by the situation.

Seeing them arrive, Master He feels slightly relieved, but the most crucial person has not appeared yet.

The other officials begin exchanging information about the situation outside. The more timid ones are already concocting excuses to stay hidden, while the impatient ones are eager to step out and placate the crowd. Meanwhile, some stand silently to the side, frowning, lost in thought.

Just as they are arguing about countermeasures, a figure in a pale pink official robe appears before them. Unlike the others’ frantic demeanor, Pei Che maintains an air of calm, his expression indifferent, as though the crowd outside is of no concern at all.

“Master Pei, please come up with a plan quickly! If the commoners’ anger boils over into a riot, the entire yamen will be held accountable!” Zhou Xu says irritably.

Pei Che glances at everyone and says, “I will personally handle this matter. The situation you fear will not come to pass.”

His voice is firm, and his unwavering demeanor exudes a sense of responsibility, leaving no room for doubt.

The crowd’s restlessness eases significantly. As long as someone is willing to step forward and take responsibility, the commoners are unlikely to resort to violence. Surrounding the yamen is one thing; taking action is another.

After Pei Che finishes speaking, he turns and walks toward the gate. Some officials quickly follow, while a smaller group hesitates before eventually trailing behind.

Creak…

The heavy gates swing open. The commoners, who have been shouting moments ago, fall silent upon seeing the face of the man stepping out. They had pictured the Prefect as a bloated, corpulent man with a sleazy demeanor, indifferent to the lives of the people. Yet, the person before them is upright and dignified, with refined features exuding integrity. Who could this possibly be?

Someone murmurs, “So it’s true you can’t judge a book by its cover! Who would have thought someone who looks so proper could commit such vile deeds?”

“Fellow villagers, I see you’ve come early this morning. Is there something you’d like to discuss? It’s cold outside—why not send a few representatives into the government office to speak with me in detail, while the rest of you head home for now? What do you think?” Pei Che speaks in a calm and gentle tone, as though addressing visiting guests rather than an armed mob.

His willingness to lower his status and speak kindly to them dampens some of their anger. However, his suggestion is promptly rejected.

“We’re not going in! We’ll say what we have to say out here!” someone shouts, wary of what might happen if they enter the yamen.

Pei Che smiles faintly. “If you’re unwilling to come inside, I won’t force you. But if everyone speaks at once, it’ll be impossible to make sense of anything. Could one person step forward and explain why you’ve all come to the yamen in this manner so early in the morning?”

His gaze sweeps over the crowd, calm yet carrying an air of subtle pressure that makes them uneasy.

The commoners glance at one another, but no one speaks. 

A young man grits his teeth, preparing to step forward, but an elderly man with graying hair quickly pulls him back. In such a precarious situation, any demands they make might be agreed to, but whoever speaks risks becoming a target of the authorities. What kind of life would they face afterward?

The elder, after stopping the young man, steps forward himself and says, “Master, you are the Prefect of Cangzhou, our parent official. Why are you leaving the people of Cangzhou without a way to survive?” His words are steady, but his aged voice carries a hint of resignation. He has lived long enough and has nothing to lose.

Pei Che replies, “Elder, I cannot accept such an accusation lightly. May I ask what gives rise to such words?”

The elder’s eyes well with tears as he answers, “Cangzhou has always had limited farmland. The local harvests alone are far from sufficient to feed the people here. Every year, we rely on merchants bringing in goods from outside just to survive. But since your arrival, you’ve forced the caravans and grain shops to cease operations. How can we, the commoners, fill our stomachs now?”

His voice trembles with emotion. Cangzhou is already a poor and bitter land. Encountering a corrupt official on top of that is nothing short of disastrous.

Pei Che doesn’t answer the elder’s question directly. Instead, he asks, “Elder, do you know the current price of rice?”

The elder pauses, then replies, “Rough rice costs 200 wen per dou, and polished rice costs 325 wen per dou.”

In the Liang dynasty, one dou is equivalent to 12.5 jin, which means rough rice costs 16 wen per jin, and polished rice costs 26 wen per jin.

“And do you know the price of rice outside of Cangzhou?” Pei Che continues.

The elder looks confused. “I’ve never left Cangzhou, so I don’t know the price elsewhere. But the merchants say that in other regions, with more land and fields, rice is cheaper than here.” In their minds, “cheaper” might mean about 11 or 12 wen per jin.

“Then, has rice always been this expensive?”

The elder shakes his head. “Not at all. I remember a time when one dou of rice cost only 75 wen. Less than a tael of silver could buy one shi of rice. Now, it takes two taels of silver to buy one shi of rough rice.”

“That is precisely the issue,” Pei Che remarks after his line of questioning, leaving the crowd puzzled. This is the issue? What issue? Was he justifying his greed?

“Please enlighten us, sir!” someone urges.

“I traveled here from Liangjing,” Pei Che explains. “Liangjing is in the north, where people primarily eat wheat products, so most of the rice is transported from the south. Even so, the price of rice there is only seven wen per jin, the same as premium flour. In the south, where rice is the staple food and the land is vast with high yields—350 jin per mu—the price of rice is generally just four wen per jin. The merchants traveling from the south to here cover a much shorter distance than to Liangjing. So why is the price so high here?”

Pei Che has spent the past few days investigating grain prices. He doesn’t need to ask others about it—his household includes someone exceptionally knowledgeable about such matters.

Jiang Miao, in his earlier business ventures, dealt with rice and flour daily. He maintained a good relationship with Manager Wang, often purchasing goods at the lowest prices available. During their downtime, Manager Wang frequently discussed regional grain prices with Jiang Miao, remarking that his profits came from hard labor rather than exploitation. Compared to the merchants here, his earnings truly were modest.

Some in the crowd, skilled at calculations, quickly do the math based on Pei Che’s figures. Their startled exclamations reveal their astonishment: the price of rice here is four times that in the south!

In truth, the people have long realized rice is expensive. However, with the gradual price increases, like a frog boiled slowly in water, and because they often barter with mountain goods to offset costs, the high prices haven’t seemed so obvious.

Seeing the crowd deep in thought, Pei Che drops another bombshell. “Leaving aside the rice prices, do you know how much mountain goods from Liangjing sell for per jin?”

The crowd shakes their heads.

“Top-grade shiitake mushrooms sell for 176 wen per jin, mid-grade for 128 wen, and low-grade for 80 wen.”

The crowd gasps, their mouths agape in disbelief. They can never have imagined such prices. Around here, mountain goods are practically worthless, often left to rot unsold. They don’t dare dream of top-grade prices, but even mid- or low-grade prices would be far better than practically giving them away for free.

Initially, they came to the magistrate’s office seeking justice. Now, they are more eager to confront the unscrupulous merchants exploiting them!