Chapter Forty-Four: The Holdout

Chapter Forty-Four: The Stubborn Holdout

The county yamen’s main gate was three bays wide, crowned with soaring eaves, upon which mythical beasts squatted, exuding an air of utmost authority beneath the clear blue sky. Hanging under the eaves was a horizontal plaque inscribed “Kaifeng County Yamen.” The couplets on the door pillars read: “In office, one must fulfill his duty to the utmost; in governance, it is vital to win the people’s hearts.”

This was much like the resounding slogans of later generations—such customs have never changed throughout the ages.

Passing through the side gate led into the front corridor, where a great drum stood within. It was the very drum for petitioners to strike, the one spoken of in tales of seeking justice.

Beyond the covered walkway lay the first courtyard. Flanking the corridor were rooms for corvée assignments, with minor officials bustling to and fro without cease.

Kaifeng Prefecture was a flourishing county, its populace exceeding half a million, so it was only natural that the yamen teemed with minor clerks.

To the right of the courtyard stood a stone stele, carved with a decree from Emperor Taizu, Zhao Kuangyin: “Your salaries and stipends are drawn from the people’s fat and blood; the common folk are easy to oppress, but Heaven is not easily deceived.”

The emperor, himself of humble origin, knew well that it was the petty officials in government offices who extracted the most from the people. Thus, he had this stele erected here as a warning. Even the busiest clerks, when passing by, would clasp their hands in salute to the stone; according to He Baozheng, this was a rule newly established by the magistrate.

Beyond lay the magistrate’s office itself—not a place for ordinary folk.

But Tie Xinyuan and his mother were heading to the household registry office, which managed the people’s contracts.

Though not a large office, it oversaw all matters closely tied to the lives of Kaifeng’s people: land, households, taxes, finances, ceremonies, examinations, schools, military affairs, justice, litigation, engineering, construction, military farms, waterworks—all fell under its jurisdiction.

The clerk responsible for the household registers recognized Tie Huli, and knew who he was; it had been he who originally registered Madam Tie Wang and her son. Being familiar, he remained seated behind his desk and casually saluted the fox in Wang Rouhua’s arms. “To what do I owe the honor of the General’s visit to my humble station?”

Wang Rouhua smiled. “I must trouble you, Registrar, to make a small amendment to our household registry.”

The registrar, folding his hands over his belly, frowned. “And why is that? Your household register is perfectly in order. The head of household is you, Madam Tie Wang; you have one underage son, Tie Xinyuan; and by imperial order, General Tie Huli is fostered in your home. Rights and responsibilities are clear. There’s nothing amiss, is there?”

Wang Rouhua replied with a courteous smile, “I merely wish to make the imperial general the head of our household. I am but a woman, unfit to support this family alone.”

The registrar was perplexed. “Though the general holds some distinction, he is, after all, merely a fox—an uncommon creature. The fact that he was even listed as a commoner was an unprecedented event. Now you wish to make him your family’s head? That is contrary to all reason.

The household register is a pillar of the state. Without absolute necessity, it must not be altered lightly. This cannot be done.”

Seeing the registrar’s firm refusal, Wang Rouhua looked to He Baozheng, hoping he might intercede.

He Baozheng, ever smiling, invited Wang Rouhua, Tie Xinyuan, and the fox to step outside, remaining behind to quietly speak with the registrar.

So far, everything Tie Xinyuan had witnessed was quite ordinary. His mother’s reason for amending the registry was indeed insufficient. Whether it was the registrar refusing, or Baozheng attempting to offer a bribe, it was all within the realm of human nature—nothing to complain about.

Bringing a fox to be the head of household was a desperate measure on his mother’s part, unable to resolve the matter at its root. After so many years in the Song Dynasty, Tie Xinyuan had noticed that officials were working to strengthen the legal system and minimize direct imperial interventions in local affairs.

For instance, when Emperor Zhenzong once watched a circus and, in a moment of joy, bestowed purple silk upon each performer. Only after the words were spoken did he realize the impropriety, but unable to revoke his edict, he simply cautioned the performers to hide the silk when passing through the palace gates, so as not to be seen by court officials.

In such an environment, though the fox was a famed general, to the people of the capital he was only a favored pet of His Majesty. As long as he was fed and not harmed, no one would trouble themselves to treat him with the courtesies due a person.

Baozheng could never succeed in bribery, and Tie Xinyuan was well aware. Had his mother wished to add a person, not a beast, and all parties were willing, the registrar would have gladly taken a little money to see it done.

But to make a fox the head of household—there was simply no precedent in the Song. Should the registrar approve such a change, he would instantly become the target of all criticism. He would never open that door.

Sure enough, He Baozheng soon exited the office, his face clouded, and whispered to Wang Rouhua, “It cannot be done.”

Seeing his mother’s crestfallen expression, Tie Xinyuan smiled, “It’s fine, Mother. I’ll be entering school soon. If my classmates found out our family was headed by a fox, wouldn’t they laugh me to death?”

Wang Rouhua managed a bitter smile and left the yamen with He Baozheng.

Afterwards, Wang Rouhua handed Baozheng a small pouch of copper coins, and mother and son, spirits low, made their way back to their noodle shop.

The area around Seventh Brother’s Noodle Shop was bustling. Not far away, a hundred skilled craftsmen were constructing a tall building; from the foundation alone, it was clear it would be a grand structure indeed.

Tie Xinyuan even noticed they were building a basement.

Constructing a basement near the West Water Gate was no small feat, as the proximity to the river meant a high water table. Dig down four or five feet and water would seep in—unlike Fan Tower, where the ground was higher and free from such worries.

Seven or eight burly laborers, chattering as they worked, operated a water wheel to bail water from the pit, sending it rushing into a deep channel.

The channel ran past the noodle shop’s door, so customers had to step over planks laid across the water to enter or exit. Though a bit inconvenient, it gave the place a certain charm.

Tie Xinyuan couldn’t help but smile. He had finally identified the party plotting against their noodle shop—it could only be the soon-to-be-completed tall building’s owner.

Fan Tower referred not just to a solitary building, but to the eleven acres of rear gardens surrounding it. Only with lush gardens could the otherwise barren structure possess an air of elegance.

It was this tranquil oasis amidst the bustle that made Fan Tower the venue of choice for scholars and wealthy merchants seeking revelry and poetry in the capital.

Tie Xinyuan was certain: once such a tall building rose near the West Water Gate, the surrounding land values would soar.

If its owner possessed enough determination and influence, he need only reorganize the local market, and the once filthy, chaotic West Water Gate could be transformed into another thriving Mahang Street.

He counted carefully: their noodle shop was less than a hundred paces from the new building, separated only by a grain shop and a furrier—both of which had not opened for some time. If they hadn’t been sold, there must be another reason.

Over the years, his mother had done well in business, and with the emperor’s gifts to the fox, she had bought up all the surrounding plots two years prior.

If the new building’s owner wished to construct a proper garden, Tie’s Noodle Shop would be indispensable. Otherwise, the garden would appear as if a dog had bitten a chunk out of it. From the upper floors, instead of a picturesque landscape, one would see a bustling noodle shop selling pork to crowds of customers; not even the most poetic scholar could compose a worthy verse in such a scene.

“Mother, has anyone approached you lately about buying our noodle shop?” Tie Xinyuan could barely contain his glee, though he kept a straight face.

The chance to strike it rich as a stubborn holdout had finally come—how could he not be delighted?

Wang Rouhua nodded, “Yes, someone came with an offer—twice what I paid for the land years ago. But this noodle shop is my lifeblood, and your future livelihood. If we sold it, we’d be eating away at our savings, which is no way to live.”

Tie Xinyuan grinned, “Mother, you’re absolutely right. No matter what, we must never sell the noodle shop. I’ll rely on it to support our family one day.”

“Exactly. Even if you become a successful scholar, a salary alone won’t be enough. Officialdom is full of social obligations, and you’ll need a steady income. Only a fool would sell a shop that brings in constant copper coins—it’s a goose that lays golden eggs.”

Tie Xinyuan shook his head and chuckled, “Mother, next time Auntie visits, ask her if she’s invested in this new building. If she has, tell her to let the owner know—the Tie family’s noodle shop is not for sale.”

Wang Rouhua was no fool. How many noblewomen from grand houses are truly naïve? To be the future matriarch of a great household, one must have a head for business and management.

“You think your aunt, having invested in the building, is trying to frighten us into selling our shop?”

Tie Xinyuan gently sat his mother down. “Mother, you and Father’s marriage must have been very discreet—known only to those from Tie Manor. And those folk only knew you as a homeless woman Father rescued from the flood. They all approved of the marriage, and the elders even allowed you to pay respects to the ancestors. This means you entered the family by the proper rites.

As for those who know you fled your old home before remarrying—that would be only my grand-uncle’s clan, I suppose? Shouldn’t you ask them?”

Instead of anger, Wang Rouhua laughed, gritting her teeth, “You’re absolutely right, my son. The Wang household is huge, full of all sorts of people. Hiding here in the capital selling noodles, it seems some have forgotten just how formidable I can be!”

Tie Xinyuan grinned broadly and gave his mother a thumbs-up.

He knew better than anyone how formidable she was—a woman who, with a baby less than a year old, could escape the flooded lands in a washbasin, then quickly establish a thriving business in the precious heart of the capital for herself and her son. If she wasn’t formidable, the local toughs would have ruined her long ago, and there’d be no booming shop today.

Her only flaw was a lack of strategic vision.

PS: Important announcement for all brothers and sisters—please don’t stop recommending the book! Also, I’m off to Hangzhou tomorrow and bringing a big bundle of lamb. If you want a taste, come find me.