Chapter 355
The news that the Prefect of Hezhou had been beheaded quickly reached the capital.
Several officials who had been waiting for Xia Jinghong to cool down before pleading for mercy were left dumbfounded. Well, no need to plead anymore.
Just as a kingdom cannot be without a ruler, a prefecture cannot be without a leader. After deliberation among the court officials, Xia Jinghong decided to transfer the Deputy Prefect of Shangyang to Hezhou.
A deputy prefect was the second-highest official in a prefecture, while the prefect was the highest. So this was a promotion, but it was the kind of promotion better not given.
Hezhou was a barren land. Half of it belonged to the south, half to the north. Its territory was vast, making it the largest prefecture in Da Xia, yet also the poorest.
Hezhou was desperately poor. It was said that in some villages, children as old as six or seven still ran around naked. A single piece of clothing was patched up and passed down for eighteen generations. Many villages had no roads and were extremely isolated. Going to the market meant crossing mountains, fording rivers, and climbing ridges. The people did not have enough to eat. Every year, in some areas, women and children starved or froze to death. In terms of tax revenue compared with other prefectures and towns, the vast Hezhou always came in last. Its fiscal income could not even match that of a single town in Shangyang.
In previous years, officials sent there rarely moved up, because achieving results was very difficult. So when word came back that the prefect had been beheaded, no one at court was shocked. Why?
Because harsh lands breed unruly people. This wasn't the first prefect to be killed—county magistrates were too numerous to mention. They were often ambushed with sacks thrown over their heads. There were skilled people among the common folk, and their methods were endless and impossible to guard against. Over the previous decade or so, more than a dozen magistrates sent to Hezhou had been crippled. Those serving there now did not dare leave their homes without the protection of a dozen soldiers.
For ordinary officials, they'd rather be the lowest in the capital than the highest in Hezhou.
The deputy prefect of Shangyang had originally hoped to wait out his superior and take over, since Shangyang was a wealthy region. If he could just gain a few years of seniority, he could be transferred back to the capital. But now, he was being sent to Hezhou instead. He no longer dared to ask for anything more, nor did he have any hope of returning to the capital. Even if he had to spend the rest of his career in Hezhou, it wouldn't matter—as long as he stayed alive.
This man was pragmatic and had worked diligently for years without being corrupt. Xia Jinghong did not expect him to accomplish great feats in Hezhou—only to manage it well. But then, in the middle of the tenth lunar month, an urgent report arrived: as soon as he entered Hezhou territory, he was ambushed. The deputy prefect and his twenty-odd guards were all beaten black and blue.
Why did the people of Hezhou have such "hostility" toward imperial officials? Did they have no regard for the law?
Xia Jinghong sent investigators again.
He was too busy and inevitably had blind spots. In the end, no one knew exactly what was uncovered, but several officials were sentenced to exile and had their properties confiscated, throwing the entire court into panic.
Fang Zichen knew a thing or two about what was happening at court. He didn't need to ask deliberately—it all boiled down to the same old story: officials protecting each other. Those in the capital shielded them; with the emperor far away and superiors looking out for them, local prefects squeezed the people dry and then sent silver to the officials in the capital as tribute.
A prefecture was vast. If the prefect was corrupt, not every county magistrate under him was necessarily the same kind of person. There were some good ones who could not bear to see the people suffer. They entrusted memorials to be submitted to higher authorities, bypassing the prefect. But when these memorials reached the capital, they were intercepted by high-ranking officials and never made it to the emperor.
Deeds always leave traces, no matter how carefully they are later covered up. Officials lived in luxury on the people's blood and sweat. Even past their fifties, they kept taking one concubine after another. The common people already struggled to survive off the land, working from dawn to dusk under the blazing sun without a moment's rest. They toiled desperately but still could not get a single full meal. They fought just to stay alive. Yet the officials, who already wanted for nothing and lived in wealth—whose a single set of clothes cost more than a commoner could earn in a lifetime—remained insatiably greedy and showed not the slightest compassion for the hardworking masses. The people already had rough, calloused hands and bent backs from begging for food, could already barely breathe, and yet these officials still trampled on their backs.
The taxes in Hezhou were far higher than in any other prefecture or county.
People are not made of clay. Where there is oppression, there is resistance.
Perfectly normal.
In his fury, Xia Jinghong purged many people. The entire court was gripped by fear, and even the Hanlin Academy became tense.
Fang Zichen, however, wasn't bothered. He wasn't stirring up trouble, hadn't taken a single penny from the people, and obeyed the law. What did he have to fear? He would just do his own job well. Matters of purges and confiscations were not his to worry about.
Fang Zichen left work on time every day, picked up Guaizai, and went home.
Guaizai hadn't been wanting to go out lately. As soon as he got home, he would go straight to Zhao Ger, saying he wanted to chat with his two little brothers and recite books for them.
Zhao Ger now found even walking difficult. The baby pressed against his waist, leaving his entire body in a state of lethargy. Fang Zichen made time every day to walk and talk with him. Even when people invited him out for a drink, he refused. Let the cheap deals wait—his fulang came first!
When it came to food, Uncle Tang had looked after Meng Ruqing before. When Meng Ruqing was pregnant, Old Madam Qin hired several experienced midwives to care for him, and the Empress Dowager also sent her own people. Uncle Tang learned a great deal from them. He knew what supplements to give Zhao Ger and varied the meals constantly—sometimes chicken or duck, sometimes fish, always a balance of meat and vegetables. He often went out to buy fruit for him too. Although the ancients didn't know about vitamins, generations of experience had taught them what was best to eat.
Fang Zichen was quite satisfied with Uncle Tang. If there were no capable adults at home, he would be fumbling in the dark.
Just now, after taking a walk, Zhao Ger lay on the bed while Guaizai leaned over and started chatting to his belly.
"Little brothers, did you behave today? Do you miss your big brother?"
A tiny fist pressed out against Zhao Ger's belly. Guaizai's eyes lit up and he smiled, reaching out to touch it. The little fist seemed to respond, moving again. As if discovering a new world, Guaizai was amazed. He asked again, "Do you miss big brother?"
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