Hot flashes

After the news of Zhao Mancang's arrest spread, the grain merchants in Jiangning Prefecture were in an uproar, like a hornet's nest that had been stirred up.

Some people packed their valuables and tried to escape overnight, but the guards at the city gates had already been replaced. They had to check their travel permits to enter and exit, and those carrying large boxes and small bags were stopped at the city gates. None of them managed to escape.

They could only sit anxiously in their house waiting for news. One group of people after another were sent out to inquire, and the news they brought back was more and more chilling than the last—Zhao Mancang's three shops in the east of the city had been sealed off, the granary had been sealed off, and even his estate outside the city had been surrounded.

Those colleagues who usually called Zhao Mancang brothers and shared drinks with him, now seemed to have made a pact, not one of them spoke up for him. Some even secretly sent letters of denunciation behind his back, clearing themselves of any wrongdoing and ruthlessly trampling on Zhao Mancang.

During the days of interrogating Zhao Mancang, Han Zhang went to the jail every day to sit for an hour. He didn't bring any instruments of torture, nor did he display any official arrogance; he only brought a pot of tea and two cups.

Zhao Mancang huddled in the corner of the cell, his silk robe wrinkled like pickled vegetables, his hair disheveled, his face covered in mud, and there were dried bloodstains at the corners of his mouth—injuries from struggling when he was first arrested.

Han Zhang sat down outside the prison gate, poured tea, pushed one cup in, and then picked up another cup to drink slowly, neither urging nor asking any questions.

The tea was top-quality Longjing. Zhao Mancang smelled that familiar aroma, and his throat tightened. He knew that drinking this cup of tea would be easy, but spitting it out would be difficult.

Han Zhang went there for three days in a row. Zhao Mancang started cursing, cursing Wu Huai Ren as a scoundrel, cursing those colleagues who reported him as ingrates, cursing the injustice of the world, and asking why everyone else could be corrupt while he was the only one who suffered.

After listening, Han Zhang finished his tea, stood up, and left.

A few days later, Zhao Mancang stopped cursing.

He leaned against the wall, staring blankly at the small skylight above him. Outside, the sky was gray and cloudless.

Han Zhang poured the tea and pushed it towards him, but he didn't pick it up. He remained silent for a long time before suddenly speaking, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping against metal: "I told you, can you live?"

Han Zhang looked into his eyes, neither lying to him nor giving him false hope, and simply said, "Whether you talk or not, you're guilty of a capital offense. But if you do talk, your family won't have to die with you."

Zhao Mancang's body jolted violently.

He lowered his head, staring at the silk shoes whose color was now indistinguishable, his lips trembling for a long time.

Zhao Mancang confessed to more than Han Zhang had expected.

He confessed how he bought grain from the official granary from Wu Huai-ren, and also revealed who Wu Huai-ren had given silver, grain, and favors to after arriving in Jiangnan.

He not only confessed about Wu Huai-ren's affairs, but also about the affairs of several previous imperial envoys, several river management officials, and several grain transport commissioners—what those people did in Jiangnan, whose benefits they received, and what they did for whom, he remembered them all more clearly than the account books in his shop.

Zhao Mancang said that those people made him remember these things.

He was a grain merchant, a front man for the Cui family in Jiangnan. He did whatever the Cui family told him to do, and he remembered whatever they told him to remember.

He kept records of all those accounts, all those correspondence, and all the whereabouts of the money. He hid them in an iron box in the cellar of his estate outside the city. The key was buried under the old locust tree in the backyard of the estate, wrapped in oilcloth, and buried three feet deep.

Han Zhang sent men to Zhao Mancang's estate overnight. The imperial guards dug up the soil under the old locust tree, cleared away layers of rubble and tree roots, and sure enough, they found the iron box.

The box was small, about a foot square, and heavy. Its surface was rusted, and the keyhole was filled with mud.

Prying open the box, inside were stacks of yellowed account books and letters, neatly arranged. Each book was marked with the year and the subject, from Wu Huai-ren to earlier times, from the Cui family to the Lu family to the Zheng family. Each and every item was like a tangled tree root, deeply embedded in the rich land of Jiangnan, absorbing all the nutrients.

Han Zhang sent the account books and letters to the capital overnight, along with a long list.

The list included officials in power, gentry out of power, local strongmen, military generals, and even a few former officials.

At the end of his memorial, Han Zhang wrote: "The problem in Jiangnan is not the water, nor the people, but the powerful families."

The memorial arrived in the capital late at night. The lights in the Qianqing Palace were still on. Xiao Jue, wearing a black outer robe, sat at his desk, read the memorial from beginning to end, picked up the vermilion brush on the desk, dipped it in ink, and wrote eight characters at the end of the memorial: "As you have suggested, he shall be severely punished without leniency."

The imperial edict, marked with red ink, along with Xiao Jue's handwritten decree, was sent back to Jiangning at the fastest possible speed.

When Han Zhang received the imperial edict, it was still dark. He knelt on the ground and read every word on the paper. Then he stood up and ordered his attendants, "Prepare the horses and go to Suzhou."