31. Preparing the Autumn Tax in Advance Secures Iron Supplies

Troublesome? Not when people are lining up to hand things over to Zhang Xun.

Prefect Shi’s wife and children had already been sent to the temporary capital, and his luggage was mostly packed; all that remained was the autumn tax collection to wrap things up. Once the autumn taxes were settled, he would be promoted to an official position at the capital.

How could he ensure it went smoothly? As the saying went, the current state and county officials were merely tax-collection squad leaders, while the local gentry were the true masters of tax farming. Prefect Shi had come specifically to discuss the seventy thousand bushels of autumn tax due from Jinling County this year.

Seventy thousand bushels of rice—the imperial government’s tax records in Hangzhou certainly didn’t account for that much, but the yamen had expenses, transport incurred losses, and the books needed to be balanced. Jinling County simply had to produce those seventy thousand bushels.

What did this mean in practice? It meant Zhang Xun would provide Prefect Shi with the seventy thousand bushels of rice, and in exchange, Prefect Shi would transfer all tax-collection authority to Zhang Xun. Whatever Zhang Xun collected would belong to the Zhang family; Prefect Shi wouldn’t concern himself with it at all.

This was how it had been done in the past, and this year would follow the same arrangement. Since the yamen’s clerks, the local township officials, and the scribes were all from the Zhang family, there was not a shred of difference between the imperial government collecting the taxes and the Zhang family doing it.

At most, the imperial government would also conscript people for labor, often in Jinghu or even Sichuan, where they were likely to die. But working for the Zhang family meant working right in their own neighborhood, where they were far less likely to perish.

However, since Prefect Shi had come to negotiate, and negotiation required give and take, Zhang Xun replied: "Providing you with seventy thousand bushels of grain is no problem, but you must handle some iron for me."

Prefect Shi frowned slightly at this. "If your Zhang family needs a few hundred or a thousand pounds of iron, can’t you just buy it on the street? Why come to me?"

"Fifty thousand pounds!"

"Hiss..." Prefect Shi drew a sharp breath. While fifty thousand pounds wasn't enough to shatter the heavens, it was clearly not the quantity needed for making farm tools or repairing houses.

Zhang Xun smiled and gripped Prefect Shi’s hand. The implication was clear: don’t ask why. You need seventy thousand bushels of rice, I need fifty thousand pounds of iron; just find a way to get it for me, and that will be that.

As one of the goods under the Song Dynasty’s state monopoly, iron was managed through a restrictive system. Although non-official iron could be purchased in mining areas, obtaining large quantities under normal circumstances required following official channels.

If the Zhang family went to buy it themselves, it might attract unwanted attention. But for the prefecture yamen to requisition iron was nothing unusual. Especially since Changzhou was a major prefecture in Jiangdong, it was frequently ordered to handle various military manufacturing tasks. Bows, arrows, armor, and weapons were all produced there. With routine needs for replenishment and some creative bookkeeping spread over two or three months, they could easily divert that amount of iron.

"In any case," Zhang Xun added, "you, Prefect Shi, can certainly handle this more conveniently than I can."

When the time came, you can leave your post with the tax-laden barges, secure a top-tier performance review, and walk away without a care in the world. As for the reason? You don't ask, I don't say—we’ll just pretend it never happened. If that’s agreeable, the autumn taxes for Jinling County, Changzhou, Zhexie Circuit, are as good as collected. I’ll go with you to load the rice; you won't be short a single pint."

After a moment of rapid calculation—concluding that his promotion was far more important—Prefect Shi agreed. He told his "brother" Zhang not to rush the transport of the rice, but to wait until the autumn grain from the other counties was finalized so they could be shipped together.

"Ha! A good brother, a truly straightforward man. Don't leave today; stay and have a meal at my home."

"It would be impolite to refuse." Since Zhang Xun’s brother, Zhang Cheng, was still an official at the capital and they would surely have dealings in the future, Prefect Shi had to give Zhang Xun this face.

The Zhang family kitchen, aside from a brief rest at midnight, was almost always burning. With such a large household—from the matriarch Madam Zhang and Zhang Xun down to the lowest servant—everyone had to eat, so the work never stopped.

Others might have to wait for a meal, but when Zhang Xun wanted to put on a banquet, it happened quickly; he had a team specifically tasked with such duties. Take Ximen Qing from "The Plum in the Golden Vase," who had to have his concubine Sun Xue'e personally bake his morning pancakes—compared to Zhang Xun, that man was far less well-served.

As for Hu Zongxian in "Ming Dynasty 1566" being forced to eat leftovers at Yan Song's house, that was a different matter entirely. When Lü Fang arrived at five in the morning to invite Yan Song and Xu Jie to drink, a banquet was served in an instant. Why would Hu Zongxian have to eat leftovers? That was simply to demonstrate the intimate relationship between the two men.

At the end, Zhang Xun tried to keep Prefect Shi to stay the night, but this time Prefect Shi refused. He still had to negotiate with the gentry of other counties tomorrow. He needed to head back today to prepare his arguments for the haggling ahead. Jinling County was easy; once he had clarified things with Zhang Xun, he was done. But he would likely have to visit several other counties, and just handling this would take him half a month.

Very well. Zhang Xun walked Prefect Shi to the gate and let him be.

The matter of the iron was settled, but Zhang Xun still couldn't breathe easy. He had to keep a close eye on the autumn harvest and pray to the heavens not to send rain, so the rice could be dried and brought into storage.

Li Tingzhi had borrowed fifty thousand bushels, and whether he could pay it back was anyone’s guess. The seventy thousand bushels Prefect Shi had "borrowed" would certainly never be returned—that was used to trade for iron, and in all likelihood, he would have to subsidize it with extra cash.

He had originally thought his family’s two or three hundred thousand bushels of grain were plenty, but now half was gone in an instant. Plenty? It was absolutely not enough to supply Bayan’s army and still keep the entire county’s populace fed for half a year.

Naturally, the harvested rice had to be stored with the utmost care to prevent any mishaps.

The Song Dynasty was different from later eras; farmers were generally willing to plant glutinous rice, the Emperor ate glutinous rice, and the taxes collected in Jiangdong were paid in glutinous rice. As the history textbooks noted, even though someone introduced the so-called "Champa rice" that could be harvested three times a year, the common people didn't like to grow it, and the government didn't accept it for taxes.

The main reason was that this fast-growing grain had a poor texture, far inferior to glutinous rice, and lacked marketability. People in later generations claimed it caused heartburn, discomfort, bloating, and gas—how laughable. The Song emperors ate glutinous rice, the Ming emperors ate glutinous rice, and the Qing emperors still ate glutinous rice. They ate it at every meal; why didn't we see these dozens of emperors die of heartburn?

The Ming Dynasty even required the Southern Metropolitan Region to specifically tribute over two hundred thousand piculs of fine white glutinous rice for use in the palace, and to bestow upon princes, nobles, and high ministers.

After eating non-glutinous rice for a few years, people started looking down on the glutinous rice that had been eaten for eight to ten thousand years. Who was the one being picky, really?

In any case, none of the farmers before Zhang Xun were complaining. They were all happy, reaping rice and threshing grain with nimble hands and feet. The elders and children were busy everywhere spreading out bamboo and reed mats. Since there were no concrete floors, to dry the grain, they had to spread mats on the ground—convenient for both collecting and drying.

There was no place in the village to set foot. If the mats were full, they used winnowing baskets, bamboo crates, or placed them on rooftops and railings; there was always a way.