Restoration of the Great Ming: A Tianqi Timeline
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The Curious Adventures of Judge Dee [Chapter Four]
Luoyang Yamen, Dongshan
As it turned out, news of his arrival had spread quickly.
Magistrate Di rubbed his forehead. Barely a day since he’d arrived -- barely a night, rather -- and he was already being called upon to dispense justice.
The fellow that they’d found clanging at the courtyard gong had thrown himself upon the ground, gibbering incoherently, and it had been some time before they’d been able to coax a story out of him. His name, apparently, was Gu (Magistrate Di did not catch his personal name, and so mentally cataloged him as “Old Gu” in a momentary bit of irreverence).[1] He owned a house some distance from here. There had been a murder done.
So Magistrate Di and his party had proceeded to Old Gu’s house with all the ceremony they could muster (which was not much at all, given the lateness of the hour -- although by then it was probably early morning, actually). Here, they’d been introduced to the various residents of the house: Old Gu’s son, whom Magistrate Di thought of as Young Gu; a man named Wei, who was a friend of Young Gu; and a man named Liao, a traveling merchant who had been staying the night.
Also, the dead man. His name had been Duan. He had been traveling with Liao, although the two of them were not well-acquainted (according to Liao). The two merchants had both come overland from one of the frontier settlements in the foothills of the mountains, though they had separate business arrangements and had not known each other until a chance encounter. But, resolving to travel together, the merchants Duan and Liao had continued onward until, arriving at Luoyang, they found themselves a place to rest at the house of Old Gu.
Magistrate Di had quickly moved to separate the residents so that he could question them separately. As it turns out, it did not matter. All of them gave similar stories (but not so similar as to imply that they’d rehearsed together): sometime during the night, they heard a cry from outside. Rushing out, bumping into each other in the dark, they’d discovered the body of merchant Duan, clubbed over the head. He had evidently gone outside to check on his packs and had been surprised by some unknown assailant.
None of the residents of the house had seen anything, or so they swore. Liao testified that he had not awoken when Duan had gotten up in the night. Old Gu, Young Gu, and Wei had slept on bedrolls in the main room, with Liao and Duan in an outbuilding.
It could have been a stranger, Magistrate Di thought. And it would be a convenient way to wash his hands of this. But the Gu household was a fair distance from other houses, on the outskirts of town, and it beggared belief that a stranger would have been outside, in the dead of night, at the precise moment that the unfortunate merchant had left the house.
He would make inquiries, see if any bandits were known to be operating in the area or if, perhaps, agents of the so-called Sun King had anything to do with the matter.
It could have been an accident. A kick in the head from a mule. That would have been convenient, too. But by the accounts of the household, the animals had been lying down when everyone had rushed outside. How likely was it, that a mule could kick a man to death and then lie back down as if it were peacefully slumbering?
No, something told him that the culprit was one of the house’s residents, who had done the murder undetected and then slipped in among the household as they rushed to the scene of the crime. Old Gu, Young Gu, Wei, or Liao. Magistrate Di ran through the names in his head.
It couldn’t have been Old Gu. What rational murderer would immediately run to report his own crime? But then, being known as the head of a household where a guest met his untimely death would have destroyed his reputation. And not all murderers were rational.
Young Gu was a complete nonentity. Reasonably strong, somewhat slow, under his father’s influence. He could have killed a man, quite possibly. Maybe on the behest of Old Gu. Maybe for some personal reason of his own.
Wei resembled his friend Young Gu in many respects. Very much like a brother to him, noted for an affinity towards small animals. Wei had been made an orphan some years ago, apparently, and both he and Young Gu worked as menial laborers.
Finally, there was Liao. The merchant was, to Magistrate Di, the obvious choice, one whose background could only be imperfectly confirmed at present. Inquiries could be made, to check his claimed itinerary and see if he said or did anything suspicious while on the road. Magistrate Di, of course, had no hard proof. And to accuse someone wildly in the hope they would confess-!
No, you might be able to intimidate a low-level crook, or a particularly weak-willed person, simply by thundering at them about how everything is known and that a confession now might be rewarded with clemency. Magistrate Di did not think it a suitable choice, not just yet. He had no reputation in Luoyang, and he did not want to come off as a blusterer. He would need some kind of edge, some knack, a bit of extra knowledge...
“Well, boss,” Mr. Lu interrupted his train of thought, “what’re we going to do?”
He couldn’t well glare at his staff, now. Or he could, but Mr. Lu and Gao Zhiying and Yang Zhaoyu were gathered back at the yamen with him, looking at him with the sort of trusting look that a child gives its teacher. Being short with them would help nothing.
So instead, he told them: “I will think about this.” And then, because it certainly could not hurt, “and I will pray about this. I trust that Heaven will lend its assistance, so that justice here shall be done.”
He believed the words that he said, but he certainly had few better options. A full day had passed and he had nothing to show for it. Still, his employees nodded at him like he had said something wise.
“I will go to the temple of the Lord Three-In-One. Mr. Lu will go to the temple of the Princess of Heaven. Gao, you will accompany me, and Yang will accompany Lu. I don’t expect any trouble, but just in case. We will spend the night meditating, and hopefully there will come some sort of inspiration to one of us.”
So he said, and so it was done.
They had a simple dinner together, then, as night fell, they parted ways, with Magistrate Di and Gao Zhiying going to the temple together. I am acclimating already, the magistrate thought to himself. I am sweating less than I was a day ago. He had bathed after dinner, and as he retraced his steps to where he remembered seeing the temple, it seemed that he was genuinely perspiring less. It might have been the cooler air of the night, a sea-breeze bringing temporary relief from the day’s heat, or a trick of the mind, his body focused on the thrill of the hunt. For it was the truth he was after, and he meant to find it.
The attendants at the temple were surprised to see him, but bowed low and ushered him inside. Yes, he would be welcome to use the facilities. There was nothing scheduled for the night, but they would make sure that he would be given his privacy. Thank you, sir, for the kind donation.
And then they were alone, the magistrate and his guard, although Gao Zhiying found a comfortable spot on some cushions and was soon fast asleep -- his body across the entranceway so that any intruder would have to step over him. Sleep did not come as swiftly for the magistrate. He sat, trying to still his thoughts.
Someone killed the merchant Duan. The temple’s trappings were unfamiliar to him, but then, most temples were more or less alike. Built on the same principle, as it were.
There was a murderer in that house. Would it help if he knew why? Or would it all come out later, once the criminal was apprehended? He did not know.
The dead cry out for justice. It would be a disgrace to let a murder go unsolved. Something would have to be done; the murdered man’s spirit, he knew, would not be at rest, not until the truth was uncovered. Only then would the land know peace. Only then...
Footnote
[1] While Gù (顾) is a not uncommon Chinese surname, the somewhat less common surname Gǔ (古) is also attested. The latter surname's literal meaning is “old.” Magistrate Di is making a pun.
As it turned out, news of his arrival had spread quickly.
Magistrate Di rubbed his forehead. Barely a day since he’d arrived -- barely a night, rather -- and he was already being called upon to dispense justice.
The fellow that they’d found clanging at the courtyard gong had thrown himself upon the ground, gibbering incoherently, and it had been some time before they’d been able to coax a story out of him. His name, apparently, was Gu (Magistrate Di did not catch his personal name, and so mentally cataloged him as “Old Gu” in a momentary bit of irreverence).[1] He owned a house some distance from here. There had been a murder done.
So Magistrate Di and his party had proceeded to Old Gu’s house with all the ceremony they could muster (which was not much at all, given the lateness of the hour -- although by then it was probably early morning, actually). Here, they’d been introduced to the various residents of the house: Old Gu’s son, whom Magistrate Di thought of as Young Gu; a man named Wei, who was a friend of Young Gu; and a man named Liao, a traveling merchant who had been staying the night.
Also, the dead man. His name had been Duan. He had been traveling with Liao, although the two of them were not well-acquainted (according to Liao). The two merchants had both come overland from one of the frontier settlements in the foothills of the mountains, though they had separate business arrangements and had not known each other until a chance encounter. But, resolving to travel together, the merchants Duan and Liao had continued onward until, arriving at Luoyang, they found themselves a place to rest at the house of Old Gu.
Magistrate Di had quickly moved to separate the residents so that he could question them separately. As it turns out, it did not matter. All of them gave similar stories (but not so similar as to imply that they’d rehearsed together): sometime during the night, they heard a cry from outside. Rushing out, bumping into each other in the dark, they’d discovered the body of merchant Duan, clubbed over the head. He had evidently gone outside to check on his packs and had been surprised by some unknown assailant.
None of the residents of the house had seen anything, or so they swore. Liao testified that he had not awoken when Duan had gotten up in the night. Old Gu, Young Gu, and Wei had slept on bedrolls in the main room, with Liao and Duan in an outbuilding.
It could have been a stranger, Magistrate Di thought. And it would be a convenient way to wash his hands of this. But the Gu household was a fair distance from other houses, on the outskirts of town, and it beggared belief that a stranger would have been outside, in the dead of night, at the precise moment that the unfortunate merchant had left the house.
He would make inquiries, see if any bandits were known to be operating in the area or if, perhaps, agents of the so-called Sun King had anything to do with the matter.
It could have been an accident. A kick in the head from a mule. That would have been convenient, too. But by the accounts of the household, the animals had been lying down when everyone had rushed outside. How likely was it, that a mule could kick a man to death and then lie back down as if it were peacefully slumbering?
No, something told him that the culprit was one of the house’s residents, who had done the murder undetected and then slipped in among the household as they rushed to the scene of the crime. Old Gu, Young Gu, Wei, or Liao. Magistrate Di ran through the names in his head.
It couldn’t have been Old Gu. What rational murderer would immediately run to report his own crime? But then, being known as the head of a household where a guest met his untimely death would have destroyed his reputation. And not all murderers were rational.
Young Gu was a complete nonentity. Reasonably strong, somewhat slow, under his father’s influence. He could have killed a man, quite possibly. Maybe on the behest of Old Gu. Maybe for some personal reason of his own.
Wei resembled his friend Young Gu in many respects. Very much like a brother to him, noted for an affinity towards small animals. Wei had been made an orphan some years ago, apparently, and both he and Young Gu worked as menial laborers.
Finally, there was Liao. The merchant was, to Magistrate Di, the obvious choice, one whose background could only be imperfectly confirmed at present. Inquiries could be made, to check his claimed itinerary and see if he said or did anything suspicious while on the road. Magistrate Di, of course, had no hard proof. And to accuse someone wildly in the hope they would confess-!
No, you might be able to intimidate a low-level crook, or a particularly weak-willed person, simply by thundering at them about how everything is known and that a confession now might be rewarded with clemency. Magistrate Di did not think it a suitable choice, not just yet. He had no reputation in Luoyang, and he did not want to come off as a blusterer. He would need some kind of edge, some knack, a bit of extra knowledge...
“Well, boss,” Mr. Lu interrupted his train of thought, “what’re we going to do?”
He couldn’t well glare at his staff, now. Or he could, but Mr. Lu and Gao Zhiying and Yang Zhaoyu were gathered back at the yamen with him, looking at him with the sort of trusting look that a child gives its teacher. Being short with them would help nothing.
So instead, he told them: “I will think about this.” And then, because it certainly could not hurt, “and I will pray about this. I trust that Heaven will lend its assistance, so that justice here shall be done.”
He believed the words that he said, but he certainly had few better options. A full day had passed and he had nothing to show for it. Still, his employees nodded at him like he had said something wise.
“I will go to the temple of the Lord Three-In-One. Mr. Lu will go to the temple of the Princess of Heaven. Gao, you will accompany me, and Yang will accompany Lu. I don’t expect any trouble, but just in case. We will spend the night meditating, and hopefully there will come some sort of inspiration to one of us.”
So he said, and so it was done.
They had a simple dinner together, then, as night fell, they parted ways, with Magistrate Di and Gao Zhiying going to the temple together. I am acclimating already, the magistrate thought to himself. I am sweating less than I was a day ago. He had bathed after dinner, and as he retraced his steps to where he remembered seeing the temple, it seemed that he was genuinely perspiring less. It might have been the cooler air of the night, a sea-breeze bringing temporary relief from the day’s heat, or a trick of the mind, his body focused on the thrill of the hunt. For it was the truth he was after, and he meant to find it.
The attendants at the temple were surprised to see him, but bowed low and ushered him inside. Yes, he would be welcome to use the facilities. There was nothing scheduled for the night, but they would make sure that he would be given his privacy. Thank you, sir, for the kind donation.
And then they were alone, the magistrate and his guard, although Gao Zhiying found a comfortable spot on some cushions and was soon fast asleep -- his body across the entranceway so that any intruder would have to step over him. Sleep did not come as swiftly for the magistrate. He sat, trying to still his thoughts.
Someone killed the merchant Duan. The temple’s trappings were unfamiliar to him, but then, most temples were more or less alike. Built on the same principle, as it were.
There was a murderer in that house. Would it help if he knew why? Or would it all come out later, once the criminal was apprehended? He did not know.
The dead cry out for justice. It would be a disgrace to let a murder go unsolved. Something would have to be done; the murdered man’s spirit, he knew, would not be at rest, not until the truth was uncovered. Only then would the land know peace. Only then...
Footnote
[1] While Gù (顾) is a not uncommon Chinese surname, the somewhat less common surname Gǔ (古) is also attested. The latter surname's literal meaning is “old.” Magistrate Di is making a pun.
*Happy Light Yagami noises*
*Happy Soichiro Yagami noises*
I love how this is both allohistorical tale of what Ming China could have and a detective thriller could have been its own anime
The genre mixture is amazing
Thank you for the kind words! Yes -- I happened to stumble across the idea and couldn't put it down until I'd figured out what to do. And luckily, I have recently figured out exactly where to take this storyline, hopefully in a satisfactory manner.
Some years ago (but not that many), I took a bunch of classes with a professor of Chinese history, and my capstone course was one on late imperial Chinese law -- we almost certainly talked about the preservation of useful info about the legal system through its depiction in popular fiction (although one only has to imagine future historians poring over NCIS and CSI: Miami for info on how the American legal system worked to discern a potential flaw in this approach) -- so, we're taking a little time away from the main events of this TL to explore a little bit, add some color to the chronicles. Because why not?
(Incidentally, for a long time the overwhelming majority of scholarship on late imperial Chinese law came from the archives found in Taiwan -- because, obviously, the government based there was a little more willing to let scholars pore through the records -- also there wasn't nearly the same wave of massive, cataclysmic iconoclasm that devastated the mainland during the Cultural Revolution -- so for a long time, the records from Taiwan were all that many scholars had. Which was an issue, because Taiwan was a relatively late addition to the domain of the Qing, and was not promoted into a full province until very late, and as you can imagine it was consequently rather a special case in many ways -- sort of how like scholarship in the ancient Mediterranean and Near East is troubled by the fact that, while Egypt has a whole bunch of preserved records in the form of papyrus fragments -- indeed, it's about the only place in the area where papyrus will survive for thousands of years because of the desert -- but also Egypt was special in many ways so it's debatable how many conclusions about the place can be generalized to, say, all of the Roman world during a similar time period. Anyways, Taiwan is interesting. Or Dongshan, as it's being called ITTL.)
For the record, the Magistrate Di storyline will probably be resolved in 7, maybe 8 chapters total (depending on how I pace things), so right now we're about halfway through. Then it's back to our regularly scheduled programming. (Although in a little bit there's another series of narrative interludes / series that I may start doing. So bear with me!)
And in response to previous comments:
I am firmly in the "eat less when traveling" camp (but then, the fact that my character did precisely that might be a hint) (none of these characters are self-inserts but each of them, perhaps, has a small part of me animating them).
I hope so! My headcanon (which may not be yours as well) is that the events described in these narrative segments may well form the introduction of an ITTL novel about Magistrate Di -- something a little bit like the novel that we have IOTL today, but better-written. (I did not mention it before, but the Dutch guy who translated it from Chinese into English excised a great deal of the original because he suspected that there had been late-stage additions to the text -- apparently the longer manuscripts include a bunch of borderline-pornographic stuff slandering Wu Zetian and her court -- which rather distracts from the actually interesting bits, about a local magistrate who goes out and solves crimes!)
The Curious Adventures of Judge Dee [Chapter Five]
??????, Dongshan
“It’s been awhile, Yimin.”
Magistrate Di looked around. He was back in his childhood home. And that familiar voice...
“Could you have already forgotten your dear Xian?”
“Of course not.” The lad he’d known years ago stood before him, tall and strong, that old half-smile on his face. “You look well.”
“As I always do,” Xian said, tossing his hair proudly.
“Will you walk with me? The trees down at the lake are lovely this time of year.”
Xian took his arm and they walked, although it seemed like the trees were still a fair distance away.
“Tell me, little dove,” he said to his companion, “do you remember when you and I were both growing up in the countryside?”
“Why would I not?”
Magistrate Di smiled. “You always had the better memory. If it were not for the winter fever-”
“Let’s not talk about that now.” Xian turned to him. “I’m here. Am I not enough?”
“You’re marvelous.”
“Flatterer,” Xian playfully retorted.
They walked on for a little while longer.
“I say,” Magistrate Di said, “I don’t think the lake was over here.”
“It moved,” Xian said. “They sometimes do that.”
“I suppose they do. You ever heard of it happening here?”
“Not in Shaanxi. Not in Hebei. Maybe in Jiangsu. They have a marvelous collection.”
Magistrate Di looked over at Xian and felt something in his heart move. “You wouldn’t leave me again, would you?”
“Never.”
“That’s not a lie, I hope.”
“I never lie. But even from a lie can spring the truth.”
A breeze ruffled through the trees all around them.
“How is that so?”
“Remember in the Zuo Zhuan, to seek more blessings for yourself. That is the real meaning of the truth.”
“What?”
“Like Shen Xuan said, there are five ways to choose a name. Why not five ways to find the truth?”[1]
Magistrate Di could not agree. “Surely there are fewer than five ways.”
“Surely. But more than one.”
The lake was as beautiful as he remembered, but large, larger than the sea. Xian waded into the gently rolling surf. “C’mon,” he called over his shoulder, “the water’s fine.”
“The water is deep.”
Xian laughed. “Don’t be a fool,” he said. “You trust me, right?”
“Of course I trust you, little dove. Very well,” and he waded into the water, the gently rolling surf, hand in hand with-
-----
Temple of Lord Three-In-One, Dongshan
“Magistrate Di? Magistrate Di!”
He blinked. Mr. Lu was shaking him gently. Gao Zhiying and Yang Zhaoyu stood nearby. The morning light of the sun was streaming into the temple.
“Sorry to be waking you up,” Mr. Lu said, “but the temple attendants are about to begin their usual rites, and the Admiral sent a message asking when you’d expect to see progress on ‘this trivial murder case of yours,’ begging your pardon but those were the very words he used, and-”
“One moment, Lu.” Magistrate Di held up a hand to forestall the torrent of words. He closed his eyes again, trying to commit every detail of his dream to memory.
Well, that was some dream. It had been some time since he’d dreamt of Xian. He was glad, privately, that he was still able to do that, still remembered his face.
With a grunt, Magistrate Di hoisted himself to his feet. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here and leave these priests to their business.”
They hurried out of the temple. “Back to the yamen, I think,” Magistrate Di said. His mouth tasted funny and his back was stiff. “The Admiral’s message can wait for now.”
“Did you sleep well, your excellency?” Mr. Lu asked.
“More or less. Had the strangest dream. What about you?”
Mr. Lu sighed. “Alas, the Princess of Heaven had some sort of nighttime ceremony. One of the local notables, I think, is about to head on a sea-voyage today, and he’d paid a lot of money for the priests to put on all sorts of ostentatious displays. So much noise! I got some sleep here and there, but not as much as I could have done.”
“My condolences.”
“It’s no trouble, really. I used to have a kip there about a year ago when I had a run of bad luck, so they knew me and let me stay in the back while they were doing their important prayer stuff. Not anything worse than normal! It wasn’t the chanting that was bad, really, but all the incense they burned. Hard to breathe with it all, sometimes!”
Yang grunted. “I didn’t mind it. In my line of work, you learn to sleep even with cannons going off beside you.” And Gao agreed to that.
Magistrate Di ignored that. He was going over the words of his dream. “Even from a lie can spring the truth...”
“What’s that, sir? Very wise, I’ve never heard that aphorism befo-”
“It wasn’t wise, Lu. Just some of the nonsense that comes in dreams.” Compelling, though. And then he stopped. That last bit about the waters. The Princess of Heaven was the patron of seafarers, was she not?
“You okay?” That was Gao Zhiying. His rustic guards would clearly need some time before they developed proper etiquette.
“Fine.” Magistrate Di had an inkling of an idea. More than one way to the truth was that right? The beginnings of a clever stratagem were starting to come together.
“You know what? Never mind going back to the yamen just yet. Mr. Lu, lead the way to the temple you were at last night. I’d like to have a word with one of those priests, if I can.”
Footnotes
[1] The Zuo Zhan (左傳) is a standard commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals. Both works, though quite ancient, were highly regarded. I chose a passage at random from the section on Duke Huan of Lu, specifically concerning his dialogue with Shen Xuan (申繻).
“It’s been awhile, Yimin.”
Magistrate Di looked around. He was back in his childhood home. And that familiar voice...
“Could you have already forgotten your dear Xian?”
“Of course not.” The lad he’d known years ago stood before him, tall and strong, that old half-smile on his face. “You look well.”
“As I always do,” Xian said, tossing his hair proudly.
“Will you walk with me? The trees down at the lake are lovely this time of year.”
Xian took his arm and they walked, although it seemed like the trees were still a fair distance away.
“Tell me, little dove,” he said to his companion, “do you remember when you and I were both growing up in the countryside?”
“Why would I not?”
Magistrate Di smiled. “You always had the better memory. If it were not for the winter fever-”
“Let’s not talk about that now.” Xian turned to him. “I’m here. Am I not enough?”
“You’re marvelous.”
“Flatterer,” Xian playfully retorted.
They walked on for a little while longer.
“I say,” Magistrate Di said, “I don’t think the lake was over here.”
“It moved,” Xian said. “They sometimes do that.”
“I suppose they do. You ever heard of it happening here?”
“Not in Shaanxi. Not in Hebei. Maybe in Jiangsu. They have a marvelous collection.”
Magistrate Di looked over at Xian and felt something in his heart move. “You wouldn’t leave me again, would you?”
“Never.”
“That’s not a lie, I hope.”
“I never lie. But even from a lie can spring the truth.”
A breeze ruffled through the trees all around them.
“How is that so?”
“Remember in the Zuo Zhuan, to seek more blessings for yourself. That is the real meaning of the truth.”
“What?”
“Like Shen Xuan said, there are five ways to choose a name. Why not five ways to find the truth?”[1]
Magistrate Di could not agree. “Surely there are fewer than five ways.”
“Surely. But more than one.”
The lake was as beautiful as he remembered, but large, larger than the sea. Xian waded into the gently rolling surf. “C’mon,” he called over his shoulder, “the water’s fine.”
“The water is deep.”
Xian laughed. “Don’t be a fool,” he said. “You trust me, right?”
“Of course I trust you, little dove. Very well,” and he waded into the water, the gently rolling surf, hand in hand with-
-----
Temple of Lord Three-In-One, Dongshan
“Magistrate Di? Magistrate Di!”
He blinked. Mr. Lu was shaking him gently. Gao Zhiying and Yang Zhaoyu stood nearby. The morning light of the sun was streaming into the temple.
“Sorry to be waking you up,” Mr. Lu said, “but the temple attendants are about to begin their usual rites, and the Admiral sent a message asking when you’d expect to see progress on ‘this trivial murder case of yours,’ begging your pardon but those were the very words he used, and-”
“One moment, Lu.” Magistrate Di held up a hand to forestall the torrent of words. He closed his eyes again, trying to commit every detail of his dream to memory.
Well, that was some dream. It had been some time since he’d dreamt of Xian. He was glad, privately, that he was still able to do that, still remembered his face.
With a grunt, Magistrate Di hoisted himself to his feet. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here and leave these priests to their business.”
They hurried out of the temple. “Back to the yamen, I think,” Magistrate Di said. His mouth tasted funny and his back was stiff. “The Admiral’s message can wait for now.”
“Did you sleep well, your excellency?” Mr. Lu asked.
“More or less. Had the strangest dream. What about you?”
Mr. Lu sighed. “Alas, the Princess of Heaven had some sort of nighttime ceremony. One of the local notables, I think, is about to head on a sea-voyage today, and he’d paid a lot of money for the priests to put on all sorts of ostentatious displays. So much noise! I got some sleep here and there, but not as much as I could have done.”
“My condolences.”
“It’s no trouble, really. I used to have a kip there about a year ago when I had a run of bad luck, so they knew me and let me stay in the back while they were doing their important prayer stuff. Not anything worse than normal! It wasn’t the chanting that was bad, really, but all the incense they burned. Hard to breathe with it all, sometimes!”
Yang grunted. “I didn’t mind it. In my line of work, you learn to sleep even with cannons going off beside you.” And Gao agreed to that.
Magistrate Di ignored that. He was going over the words of his dream. “Even from a lie can spring the truth...”
“What’s that, sir? Very wise, I’ve never heard that aphorism befo-”
“It wasn’t wise, Lu. Just some of the nonsense that comes in dreams.” Compelling, though. And then he stopped. That last bit about the waters. The Princess of Heaven was the patron of seafarers, was she not?
“You okay?” That was Gao Zhiying. His rustic guards would clearly need some time before they developed proper etiquette.
“Fine.” Magistrate Di had an inkling of an idea. More than one way to the truth was that right? The beginnings of a clever stratagem were starting to come together.
“You know what? Never mind going back to the yamen just yet. Mr. Lu, lead the way to the temple you were at last night. I’d like to have a word with one of those priests, if I can.”
Footnotes
[1] The Zuo Zhan (左傳) is a standard commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals. Both works, though quite ancient, were highly regarded. I chose a passage at random from the section on Duke Huan of Lu, specifically concerning his dialogue with Shen Xuan (申繻).
As an author, I must say that it's helpful to reveal little bits of a character's backstory and let readers fill in the gaps. Everybody has their own interpretation; particularly since these characters are entirely the product of my imagination and were not documented in the pages of history IOTL.Doesn't matter: I'm shipping them!
That being said, I'm no chickenshit, and I'll freely note that in choosing a name for Di's memory of a long-lost companion, I adapted the name of Emperor Ai of Han's companion, after which the anecdote / euphemism "passion of the cut sleeve" was derived. So -- make of that what you will!
The Curious Adventures of Judge Dee [Chapter Six]
Gu Family Residence, Dongshan
It was a motley party that gathered at the home of Old Gu. There was Old Gu, of course, and Young Gu, and Wei, and Liao, but also Magistrate Di and his staff -- Mr. Lu, and Gao Zhiying, and Yang Zhaoyu, and a very junior priest who was apparently very excited to be part of something important. Also, some temple attendants who had accompanied the priest, carrying all the stuff they’d need.
“We are here,” intoned the priest, “to call upon the spirit of the merchant Duan, who was cruelly slain near this very spot. We are gathered to lay his spirit to rest, so that he shall not roam the land as a vengeful ghost. We invoke the power of our great goddess Mazu in uncovering the truth.”[1]
There was nothing typical about this ritual. In fact, most of it had been invented wholesale. Yang Zhaoyu, surprisingly, had some literary talent. Magistrate Di thought it would do. He could’ve used a priest of the Lord Three-In-One, but the ocean in his dream brought Mazu to mind, and he didn’t dare go against that particular omen.
Hopefully this priest would work out. He’d picked a young one on purpose, someone who was competent, but would be willing to go along with his suggestions.
The attendants had set up a wooden frame, like a great door, with a translucent silk curtain hanging down. The suspects he had ordered to sit a fair distance apart, almost as one would arrange spectators at a show. Which, in a sense, was exactly the situation.
“O goddess,” the priest intoned, beginning a long and droning prayer which he read from a sheet of paper. The temple attendants with him joined the chanting, lending their voices to the slightly discordant harmony.
Magistrate Di wasn’t listening to them. He was watching the suspects. It had taken him some time for him to conclude his negotiations with the priest, and for him to commission the wooden frame that he needed, and to get everything in place. So it was well into the evening, now, and knowing that the men had not slept well the previous night...
(Not that he’d gotten much more sleep himself, but he’d taken a cup of strong tea, and in any case there was no way that he’d doze off with so much at stake.)
“Bring us the spirit of the dead man, o goddess, and give him form,” the priest was saying. Did one of the suspects flinch at that? Were they guilt-stricken? Merely nervous? The priest was not watching; he kept on with his monotonous speech.
The attendants accompanied him with their voices, and occasionally chimed a metal instrument (Magistrate Di did not know or care what it was called). The incense-burners were putting out thick clouds of their cloying scent.
“O goddess,” intoned the priest, and the chanters began again their steady drone. The candles that lit the room were burning down, the light just a little dimmer. The air was hazy with incense smoke, the dizzying fumes filling the room. (None of it had come cheap.)
“O goddess,” intoned the priest, and Magistrate Di watched the suspects, as they sat in front of the wooden frame and the silk curtain, and the instruments gently chimed, and the light burned low.
“O goddess,” intoned the priest, and the chanters once again started in on their prayer, and the sound crescendoed to the same climax that they had done so many times by now-
And the curtain twitched.
The silk curtain twitched, slightly but perceptibly, in a manner unlike the gentle sway of cloth in a minor breeze -- and in a section it seemed like it almost was bunching up -- or being pushed forward by a person’s hand, by something that was not there-
A shriek of fright from their gathered audience broke the stillness. One man was scrambling back, screaming “help, save me, he’s going to-!”
“Seize him!” roared Magistrate Di, and his guards grabbed the young man Wei as he attempted to flee. The magistrate loomed over him.
“I arrest you,” and his voice was heavy with purpose, “on suspicion of murder...”
-----
And that was that.
Wei confessed in full. They had it properly recorded, and the unfortunate wretch was now to be detained until approval of the sentence came back from Beijing. He would die, that was all but certain. A promising life, wasted over the oldest temptation of all. Greed, and the impetuous, stupid desire to act.
Magistrate Di had no doubt that he had arrested the correct person. The confession contained details that only the murderer would have known, the beginnings of the plan, the crime itself, the aftermath when he’d mingled with the rest of the family coming outside into the darkness, so that none of them had the slightest suspicion. And among Wei’s possessions, they had found the small leather pouch, the only thing of value that Wei had taken from the deceased.
Not a large pouch. Magistrate Di glared at it. He’d been able to catch a few hours of sleep that night, and he’d slept the undisturbed sleep of the just, waking as refreshed as he could hope to be. In the pale light of the morning, it all seemed even more stupid. But the pouch, and what he’d found inside...yes, Magistrate Di could imagine why a certain kind of man would rashly throw his life away for it.
“Good morning, sir,” Mr. Lu cheerfully greeted him. “Our lads are in fine spirits today, although guardsman Gao thinks that he should get a little bonus on account of how it was his skills with the little bits of string that were essential to the case, so he said, and guardsman Yang similarly thinks he should be rewarded for writing the prayer script, although personally since it was your idea I think it’s all ultimately your decision, and also I beg leave to report that the Admiral has sent yet another message, asking about your solution to this most difficult case and wondering when you would-”
“Thank you, Lu,” Magistrate Di said.
“That was a clever trick you pulled, if you don’t mind my saying so, a marvelous bit of misdirection-”
“A simple thing,” Magistrate Di said. “It is written, is it not, that a wise governor must promote a belief in ghosts, so that the ignorant and foolish might follow the laws.”[2] Although getting everything set up had taken considerable effort, and he was indeed grateful for Gao’s skill in manipulating the thin, barely-visible filaments of string that had been attached to the silk curtain. (He had experience in puppetry as a youth, so he'd said.) For a moment, it really did look like someone was about to come through.
Which is not to say that Magistrate Di harbored disbelief in the possibility that a dead man would be able to name his killer. It happened, surely enough. But sometimes one needed to hurry fate along. In this case, it had worked. He hoped he’d be able to figure out similar tactics for the future.
“Oh, sure, of course, sir. By the way, the message from the Admiral-”
“I know. I heard you the first time.” He rose to his feet. “Send word to him,” he said, “that I will be calling upon the Admiral personally to deliver my report.” Magistrate Di tucked the pouch into his robes. The Admiral, he was sure, would have questions. He would have questions of his own.
Footnotes
[1] While she was known as the “Princess of Heaven” and other such royal titles over the years, Mazu was not typically addressed in such a formal manner by her worshippers during prayer -- it was commonly believed that, if she were to hear herself honored in this way, she would take the time to put on all of her heavenly regalia and thus might be delayed in answering.
[2] Di is paraphrasing but not quoting sentiments expressed by the philosopher Mozi. In translation: “Now if we could just persuade the people of the world to believe that ghosts and spirits can reward the worthy and punish the wicked, then how could the world ever become disordered?”
It was a motley party that gathered at the home of Old Gu. There was Old Gu, of course, and Young Gu, and Wei, and Liao, but also Magistrate Di and his staff -- Mr. Lu, and Gao Zhiying, and Yang Zhaoyu, and a very junior priest who was apparently very excited to be part of something important. Also, some temple attendants who had accompanied the priest, carrying all the stuff they’d need.
“We are here,” intoned the priest, “to call upon the spirit of the merchant Duan, who was cruelly slain near this very spot. We are gathered to lay his spirit to rest, so that he shall not roam the land as a vengeful ghost. We invoke the power of our great goddess Mazu in uncovering the truth.”[1]
There was nothing typical about this ritual. In fact, most of it had been invented wholesale. Yang Zhaoyu, surprisingly, had some literary talent. Magistrate Di thought it would do. He could’ve used a priest of the Lord Three-In-One, but the ocean in his dream brought Mazu to mind, and he didn’t dare go against that particular omen.
Hopefully this priest would work out. He’d picked a young one on purpose, someone who was competent, but would be willing to go along with his suggestions.
The attendants had set up a wooden frame, like a great door, with a translucent silk curtain hanging down. The suspects he had ordered to sit a fair distance apart, almost as one would arrange spectators at a show. Which, in a sense, was exactly the situation.
“O goddess,” the priest intoned, beginning a long and droning prayer which he read from a sheet of paper. The temple attendants with him joined the chanting, lending their voices to the slightly discordant harmony.
Magistrate Di wasn’t listening to them. He was watching the suspects. It had taken him some time for him to conclude his negotiations with the priest, and for him to commission the wooden frame that he needed, and to get everything in place. So it was well into the evening, now, and knowing that the men had not slept well the previous night...
(Not that he’d gotten much more sleep himself, but he’d taken a cup of strong tea, and in any case there was no way that he’d doze off with so much at stake.)
“Bring us the spirit of the dead man, o goddess, and give him form,” the priest was saying. Did one of the suspects flinch at that? Were they guilt-stricken? Merely nervous? The priest was not watching; he kept on with his monotonous speech.
The attendants accompanied him with their voices, and occasionally chimed a metal instrument (Magistrate Di did not know or care what it was called). The incense-burners were putting out thick clouds of their cloying scent.
“O goddess,” intoned the priest, and the chanters began again their steady drone. The candles that lit the room were burning down, the light just a little dimmer. The air was hazy with incense smoke, the dizzying fumes filling the room. (None of it had come cheap.)
“O goddess,” intoned the priest, and Magistrate Di watched the suspects, as they sat in front of the wooden frame and the silk curtain, and the instruments gently chimed, and the light burned low.
“O goddess,” intoned the priest, and the chanters once again started in on their prayer, and the sound crescendoed to the same climax that they had done so many times by now-
And the curtain twitched.
The silk curtain twitched, slightly but perceptibly, in a manner unlike the gentle sway of cloth in a minor breeze -- and in a section it seemed like it almost was bunching up -- or being pushed forward by a person’s hand, by something that was not there-
A shriek of fright from their gathered audience broke the stillness. One man was scrambling back, screaming “help, save me, he’s going to-!”
“Seize him!” roared Magistrate Di, and his guards grabbed the young man Wei as he attempted to flee. The magistrate loomed over him.
“I arrest you,” and his voice was heavy with purpose, “on suspicion of murder...”
-----
And that was that.
Wei confessed in full. They had it properly recorded, and the unfortunate wretch was now to be detained until approval of the sentence came back from Beijing. He would die, that was all but certain. A promising life, wasted over the oldest temptation of all. Greed, and the impetuous, stupid desire to act.
Magistrate Di had no doubt that he had arrested the correct person. The confession contained details that only the murderer would have known, the beginnings of the plan, the crime itself, the aftermath when he’d mingled with the rest of the family coming outside into the darkness, so that none of them had the slightest suspicion. And among Wei’s possessions, they had found the small leather pouch, the only thing of value that Wei had taken from the deceased.
Not a large pouch. Magistrate Di glared at it. He’d been able to catch a few hours of sleep that night, and he’d slept the undisturbed sleep of the just, waking as refreshed as he could hope to be. In the pale light of the morning, it all seemed even more stupid. But the pouch, and what he’d found inside...yes, Magistrate Di could imagine why a certain kind of man would rashly throw his life away for it.
“Good morning, sir,” Mr. Lu cheerfully greeted him. “Our lads are in fine spirits today, although guardsman Gao thinks that he should get a little bonus on account of how it was his skills with the little bits of string that were essential to the case, so he said, and guardsman Yang similarly thinks he should be rewarded for writing the prayer script, although personally since it was your idea I think it’s all ultimately your decision, and also I beg leave to report that the Admiral has sent yet another message, asking about your solution to this most difficult case and wondering when you would-”
“Thank you, Lu,” Magistrate Di said.
“That was a clever trick you pulled, if you don’t mind my saying so, a marvelous bit of misdirection-”
“A simple thing,” Magistrate Di said. “It is written, is it not, that a wise governor must promote a belief in ghosts, so that the ignorant and foolish might follow the laws.”[2] Although getting everything set up had taken considerable effort, and he was indeed grateful for Gao’s skill in manipulating the thin, barely-visible filaments of string that had been attached to the silk curtain. (He had experience in puppetry as a youth, so he'd said.) For a moment, it really did look like someone was about to come through.
Which is not to say that Magistrate Di harbored disbelief in the possibility that a dead man would be able to name his killer. It happened, surely enough. But sometimes one needed to hurry fate along. In this case, it had worked. He hoped he’d be able to figure out similar tactics for the future.
“Oh, sure, of course, sir. By the way, the message from the Admiral-”
“I know. I heard you the first time.” He rose to his feet. “Send word to him,” he said, “that I will be calling upon the Admiral personally to deliver my report.” Magistrate Di tucked the pouch into his robes. The Admiral, he was sure, would have questions. He would have questions of his own.
Footnotes
[1] While she was known as the “Princess of Heaven” and other such royal titles over the years, Mazu was not typically addressed in such a formal manner by her worshippers during prayer -- it was commonly believed that, if she were to hear herself honored in this way, she would take the time to put on all of her heavenly regalia and thus might be delayed in answering.
[2] Di is paraphrasing but not quoting sentiments expressed by the philosopher Mozi. In translation: “Now if we could just persuade the people of the world to believe that ghosts and spirits can reward the worthy and punish the wicked, then how could the world ever become disordered?”
Yeah, I was aiming for a "Magistrate Di uncovers the truth" scene that didn't involve, like, explicit torture. (And to be fair, torture was most often used when the magistrate already had evidence and was trying to obtain an official confession -- still not great by modern standards, but a magistrate who reached for the thumbscrews at the first opportunity was playing a dangerous game.) So things sorta worked out!
Thanks! The Celebrated Cases of Judge Dee aren't half bad as a window into late imperial court procedure.
Just wondering but was this inspired by the light novels turned anime "The Raven Consort" by any chance. Since the Curious Adventures of Judge Dee reads alot like the series I mentioned
Indeed! You know, at one point I had the mad idea to steal a bunch of plot points from Death Note for a longer work of fiction that I was writing (and have since abandoned) -- it is only fitting that we have such things resurfacing!
Honestly, I've not touched either version of that story. This was just me riffing off the OTL stories, creating an honest magistrate character who gets sent off to the frontier territory of Dongshan. I hope my attempt compared favorably to them!
Well it certainly pays off, plus it's refreshing to read stories where bureaucrats aren't portrayed as obstructive idiots or crooked to cartoonish extremes.
The Curious Adventures of Judge Dee [Chapter Seven]
Admiral’s Palace, Dongshan
He came once more upon the gates of the palace, once again beheld the low buildings of utilitarian design, was admitted through the doors by guards who now recognized him (or had been instructed to grant him passage). And now he stood before the Admiral, who looked expectantly to him but said nothing.
Magistrate Di cleared his throat. “I am glad to report,” he said to the Admiral, “that the culprit for the recent murder has been found. He is named Wei, and he was solely responsible, so far as I can tell, for the death of the merchant Duan, whom he killed.” He paused. “But I don’t think that was all you wanted to know, was it?”
Admiral Zheng raised an eyebrow at him. “Whatever do you mean?”
Magistrate Di withdrew the small leather pouch from his robes. “This was found in the murderer’s possession,” he said. “He had taken it from Duan. Theft, I believe, was the most plausible motive for murder.” And he tossed the pouch at the Admiral.
That might have been a bad idea. Three different guardsmen drew steel, but the Admiral simply caught the pouch and waved off the overzealous guards. “Zuberi, Antonio, Mpanzu,” he said, pronouncing the foreign names with ease, “calm yourselves. The magistrate meant us no harm.” And so saying this, he opened the pouch and peered inside.
Magistrate Di knew what the pouch contained. The murderer had told him, and he’d checked, anyhow, just to be sure. That small pouch was heavier than it looked because it contained a substantial quantity of gold. Fine flakes, not exactly powder but little bits of gold. A nice pile to carry around in a leather pouch.
The Admiral looked down at Magistrate Di. “How much do you know,” he asked, more of a command than a question. He seemed to not be in the mood for flowery talk.
Magistrate Di showed his hands in a shrug. “I know some, though I’ve guessed at a lot more. Duan was an agent of yours, wasn’t he? That’s why you were so concerned about my investigation into his death.”
The Admiral did not dignify that with an answer.
“I have read that the pale foreigners -- the first ones, who explored this place, not the later ones whom you defeated -- they ventured up some of the rivers which flow from the mountains to the eastern coast. Not because they were interested in rivers, but because these rivers were the kind that produce gold. Small amounts, washed little by little from rocks further up in the mountains, which a very patient man might collect. There wasn’t much at all, from what I hear, and it seems the foreigners gave it up for a bad job. But they found enough that you’d sent people out to make some quiet inquiries. And somewhere in the mountains, the merchant Duan got lucky.”
He hadn’t been interrupted yet, so he’d probably guessed right. “I hope that Duan kept a detailed itinerary, or that you’d sent him to explore specific areas that you can now double-check. Anyways, his mission complete, he started for home, and it was not until he was within spitting distance of his destination that he was killed for the gold.”
Wei had been lucky, or unlucky, perhaps, to happen upon Duan when the latter was moving the gold from one saddlebag to another. Magistrate Di didn’t bother with further details. A man was dead, and another man soon would be. If only Duan had not stopped for the night, but had proceeded the last few miles of his journey...
“That’s why the Sun King still ‘rules’ in the north, does he not? And why the pale foreigners further up the island are permitted to stay? Because your men are pushing east -- up along that coast, and into the mountains as far as they can, ignoring other projects so you can continue your slow progress through the native villages. Oh,” Magistrate Di realized, “that’s why you’re working so slow. You can’t drive them off, you’ve gotta keep them on your side for the time being. Otherwise, who’d work the gold? You still need manpower, so there’s probably more negotiating than fighting. When it’s the most efficient thing to do, at least.”
The Admiral laughed. “I knew they’d sent me a clever one. You’re not all that far off the mark. Although we do our fair share of fighting, by the way; if the negotiations break down, I’m not at all reluctant to fight it out.” He settled back on his throne. “But yes, the broad strokes of what you said -- it’s accurate. We know there’s gold out there. If we can find enough of it, we can send it back to Beijing and silence every doubter who thought this expedition was a boondoggle. And if our source dries up...” The Admiral shrugged. “Gold is gold. We can ‘find’ some more somewhere if we please. My boys are real swashbucklers, remember. They wouldn’t mind plying their old trade again.”
Presumably, the Admiral was referring to depredations against the Dutch, whose merchant ships were sometimes seen making the transit between their outpost in Japan and the great ports of Vijayanagara. Definitely not to piratical activities directed at anyone else. The practical part of Magistrate Di’s brain pointed out that literally just farming the land would probably bring in more tax revenue than that kind of adventurism.
“It’ll take time.”
“Of course it will,” the Admiral said, “just like all things. But I’ve got some clever types, you know, Jesuits and their kind, who’ve drafted up some comprehensive plans. Now that we know where to go,” and he made a sort of swooping gesture with his hand, “we can expect the first ingots within a few years.”
An optimistic view. But even so...
“Gold disappears quickly,” Magistrate Di said. “You’ll need to keep paying the soldiers, develop some decent ports on that side of the island, do all the things that a governor ought to do-”
“Yes, yes, and then Beijing will want its share as well. As long as they send some more halfway-competent administrators, so it’s not on the two of us to run the whole damn thing ourselves.”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Magistrate Di. “What were your words? ‘Heaven is high, and the Emperor is far away.’”
Admiral Zheng caught the droll note in his voice. “Fine, you jackass,” he said, but good-humoredly. “Pull whatever strings you can on your end so that when my boys find the good stuff, we know where to send it before any of the lads start getting stupid ideas.” He actually stood up and came down from his throne to clap Magistrate Di familiarly on the shoulder. “You know, Di,” he said, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship...”
Footnote
No, I’m not numbering this one. But just as a note from your author, the gold in Taiwan is entirely OTL. The Portuguese knew it was there, and the Dutch made some inconclusive attempts towards it -- of course, ITTL they had rather less time to do that before Zheng Zhilong and his crew moved in. But there is a decent amount of gold in the central mountains and in the rivers flowing down to the east coast.
However -- and this is something that neither Admiral Zheng nor any character currently alive ITTL knows -- the vast majority of Taiwan’s gold is actually located on the northern tip of the island, where the Spanish now are. Although it’s unlikely that anyone’s going to stumble across that gold for a good while; IOTL it wasn’t until the very late Qing when they were excavating land for a railroad that anyone realized the gold was there, and then the Japanese immediately grabbed Taiwan and started heavily exploiting its mines (they mined gold and also other metals like copper) up until Taiwan was liberated after WWII.
While the currency that most common folk used during the late imperial period was mostly copper coinage (supplemented by paper money, depending on if the emperor had just printed a bunch), ingots of gold and silver were still used as valuable trade goods. As previously mentioned, Spanish silver circulated as a sort of de facto currency in China and in southeast Asia, mostly because the coins made for pretty convenient, consistently-sized ingots of precious metal. Just to give some background on how currency worked.
There will be one more chapter of Magistrate Di -- because every proper gong’an ends with justice being rendered and the criminal’s execution -- and then it’s back to our regularly scheduled program!
He came once more upon the gates of the palace, once again beheld the low buildings of utilitarian design, was admitted through the doors by guards who now recognized him (or had been instructed to grant him passage). And now he stood before the Admiral, who looked expectantly to him but said nothing.
Magistrate Di cleared his throat. “I am glad to report,” he said to the Admiral, “that the culprit for the recent murder has been found. He is named Wei, and he was solely responsible, so far as I can tell, for the death of the merchant Duan, whom he killed.” He paused. “But I don’t think that was all you wanted to know, was it?”
Admiral Zheng raised an eyebrow at him. “Whatever do you mean?”
Magistrate Di withdrew the small leather pouch from his robes. “This was found in the murderer’s possession,” he said. “He had taken it from Duan. Theft, I believe, was the most plausible motive for murder.” And he tossed the pouch at the Admiral.
That might have been a bad idea. Three different guardsmen drew steel, but the Admiral simply caught the pouch and waved off the overzealous guards. “Zuberi, Antonio, Mpanzu,” he said, pronouncing the foreign names with ease, “calm yourselves. The magistrate meant us no harm.” And so saying this, he opened the pouch and peered inside.
Magistrate Di knew what the pouch contained. The murderer had told him, and he’d checked, anyhow, just to be sure. That small pouch was heavier than it looked because it contained a substantial quantity of gold. Fine flakes, not exactly powder but little bits of gold. A nice pile to carry around in a leather pouch.
The Admiral looked down at Magistrate Di. “How much do you know,” he asked, more of a command than a question. He seemed to not be in the mood for flowery talk.
Magistrate Di showed his hands in a shrug. “I know some, though I’ve guessed at a lot more. Duan was an agent of yours, wasn’t he? That’s why you were so concerned about my investigation into his death.”
The Admiral did not dignify that with an answer.
“I have read that the pale foreigners -- the first ones, who explored this place, not the later ones whom you defeated -- they ventured up some of the rivers which flow from the mountains to the eastern coast. Not because they were interested in rivers, but because these rivers were the kind that produce gold. Small amounts, washed little by little from rocks further up in the mountains, which a very patient man might collect. There wasn’t much at all, from what I hear, and it seems the foreigners gave it up for a bad job. But they found enough that you’d sent people out to make some quiet inquiries. And somewhere in the mountains, the merchant Duan got lucky.”
He hadn’t been interrupted yet, so he’d probably guessed right. “I hope that Duan kept a detailed itinerary, or that you’d sent him to explore specific areas that you can now double-check. Anyways, his mission complete, he started for home, and it was not until he was within spitting distance of his destination that he was killed for the gold.”
Wei had been lucky, or unlucky, perhaps, to happen upon Duan when the latter was moving the gold from one saddlebag to another. Magistrate Di didn’t bother with further details. A man was dead, and another man soon would be. If only Duan had not stopped for the night, but had proceeded the last few miles of his journey...
“That’s why the Sun King still ‘rules’ in the north, does he not? And why the pale foreigners further up the island are permitted to stay? Because your men are pushing east -- up along that coast, and into the mountains as far as they can, ignoring other projects so you can continue your slow progress through the native villages. Oh,” Magistrate Di realized, “that’s why you’re working so slow. You can’t drive them off, you’ve gotta keep them on your side for the time being. Otherwise, who’d work the gold? You still need manpower, so there’s probably more negotiating than fighting. When it’s the most efficient thing to do, at least.”
The Admiral laughed. “I knew they’d sent me a clever one. You’re not all that far off the mark. Although we do our fair share of fighting, by the way; if the negotiations break down, I’m not at all reluctant to fight it out.” He settled back on his throne. “But yes, the broad strokes of what you said -- it’s accurate. We know there’s gold out there. If we can find enough of it, we can send it back to Beijing and silence every doubter who thought this expedition was a boondoggle. And if our source dries up...” The Admiral shrugged. “Gold is gold. We can ‘find’ some more somewhere if we please. My boys are real swashbucklers, remember. They wouldn’t mind plying their old trade again.”
Presumably, the Admiral was referring to depredations against the Dutch, whose merchant ships were sometimes seen making the transit between their outpost in Japan and the great ports of Vijayanagara. Definitely not to piratical activities directed at anyone else. The practical part of Magistrate Di’s brain pointed out that literally just farming the land would probably bring in more tax revenue than that kind of adventurism.
“It’ll take time.”
“Of course it will,” the Admiral said, “just like all things. But I’ve got some clever types, you know, Jesuits and their kind, who’ve drafted up some comprehensive plans. Now that we know where to go,” and he made a sort of swooping gesture with his hand, “we can expect the first ingots within a few years.”
An optimistic view. But even so...
“Gold disappears quickly,” Magistrate Di said. “You’ll need to keep paying the soldiers, develop some decent ports on that side of the island, do all the things that a governor ought to do-”
“Yes, yes, and then Beijing will want its share as well. As long as they send some more halfway-competent administrators, so it’s not on the two of us to run the whole damn thing ourselves.”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Magistrate Di. “What were your words? ‘Heaven is high, and the Emperor is far away.’”
Admiral Zheng caught the droll note in his voice. “Fine, you jackass,” he said, but good-humoredly. “Pull whatever strings you can on your end so that when my boys find the good stuff, we know where to send it before any of the lads start getting stupid ideas.” He actually stood up and came down from his throne to clap Magistrate Di familiarly on the shoulder. “You know, Di,” he said, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship...”
Footnote
No, I’m not numbering this one. But just as a note from your author, the gold in Taiwan is entirely OTL. The Portuguese knew it was there, and the Dutch made some inconclusive attempts towards it -- of course, ITTL they had rather less time to do that before Zheng Zhilong and his crew moved in. But there is a decent amount of gold in the central mountains and in the rivers flowing down to the east coast.
However -- and this is something that neither Admiral Zheng nor any character currently alive ITTL knows -- the vast majority of Taiwan’s gold is actually located on the northern tip of the island, where the Spanish now are. Although it’s unlikely that anyone’s going to stumble across that gold for a good while; IOTL it wasn’t until the very late Qing when they were excavating land for a railroad that anyone realized the gold was there, and then the Japanese immediately grabbed Taiwan and started heavily exploiting its mines (they mined gold and also other metals like copper) up until Taiwan was liberated after WWII.
While the currency that most common folk used during the late imperial period was mostly copper coinage (supplemented by paper money, depending on if the emperor had just printed a bunch), ingots of gold and silver were still used as valuable trade goods. As previously mentioned, Spanish silver circulated as a sort of de facto currency in China and in southeast Asia, mostly because the coins made for pretty convenient, consistently-sized ingots of precious metal. Just to give some background on how currency worked.
There will be one more chapter of Magistrate Di -- because every proper gong’an ends with justice being rendered and the criminal’s execution -- and then it’s back to our regularly scheduled program!
These gong'an chapters seem like the seed for their own spin off. I've enjoyed this little story.
Thank you! Sometimes I kinda figure I should pull a van Gulik and just keep writing about our Magistrate Di -- but alas, we need to get back to the rest of China eventually. Even so, I have a feeling we'll see a little more of Magistrate Di in the future...
A funny thing to do is to forget about Di entirely and then have him pop up later in the historical chronicles like a long-lost friend