Chapter Fourteen: Greed Breaks the Seal, The Golden Wedding Gown

There are only two certainties in life: death and taxes.

In order to levy taxes on fishermen and boatmen, the Grand Zhao Dynasty established specialized tax agencies known as “Water Administrations” along the banks and shores of major inland rivers and lakes. By controlling the source of the fish catch, they effectively controlled the tax base.

However, as the Grand Zhao imposed bans on the mountains and seas, the coastal Water Administrations, like the coastal military garrisons, gradually vanished. To see them now in Moon Harbor was truly unexpected.

Wang Cheng gazed into the depths of Moon Harbor and could still see, atop a central five-story octagonal tower, a flag emblazoned with five mountain peaks—the flag of the Five Peaks.

His greatest fear, for the moment, had not come to pass.

“Moon Harbor has no official government. Instead, the major maritime merchant powers elect eight principal shipmasters to govern themselves, with the leader of the Five Peaks Banner acting as the mediator and spokesperson.

Even the most dynamic social organizations know that only after seizing a territory do they have the right to demand protection money.

If the major armed merchant factions remain united, the imperial navy—rotting to the core as it is—could never take Moon Harbor.

But the presence of the Water Administration here suggests that the twenty-four generals charged with defending this place are already struggling, or at the very least, have fallen behind in the ongoing power struggle.

It seems the split between the Free Trade Faction and the Five Peaks Banner has begun since the patriarch’s restraining hand was lost.”

Wang Cheng was a direct witness to these changes, possessing the most intelligence and clearest view of the situation. Naturally, he scrutinized these abrupt “Water Administration tax collectors” more keenly.

He decided to wait and observe, to sound them out before making any moves.

If things proved impossible, all his previous plans would have to be drastically revised—a prospect he dreaded.

When Wang Cheng led his fishing guild members onto the pier, the tax collectors had already finished counting the crew and levying the taxes on the preceding boats.

“Great sirs, please have mercy! If we pay all this silver at once, our whole family won’t survive the winter!”

A group of fishermen knelt on the ground, wailing and begging for leniency, only to be kicked aside by Xue Da, a burly man wielding a cudgel.

“Get lost! If you’re short a single copper coin or a piece of dried fish, I’ll break your bones.”

Though the chief tax collector regarded the fishermen as little more than grass, he still disliked Xue Da’s constant threats. Feeling his dignity lessened before so many eyes, he rebuked him:

“Xue Da, put away that thuggish attitude.

You serve under my lord now, and you represent his face. Ruin imperial business, and none can pardon you.”

Turning to the fishermen, his tone grew cold and threatening:

“We of the Water Administration are here by imperial decree to collect taxes. Not a single copper less. Do you intend to defy the emperor and rebel?”

Without raising his voice, his authority proved far more intimidating than the brute’s. The fishermen dared not utter another word, retreating in despair as if bereaved.

Such is the supreme power of the emperor!

So long as the dynasty stands, no official outranks the Son of Heaven.

Xue Da, too, shed his ferocious demeanor, plastering on a fawning smile and bowing to the tax collector:

“Yes, yes, I’m new to the job and haven’t adjusted. I’ll be sure to behave in the future.”

He truly was a fishing bully, yet somehow had managed to don the official sash and worm his way into the Water Administration.

At this moment, Wang Cheng caught the sound of the Zhang brothers behind him, grinding their teeth:

“Xue Da! That bastard actually returned with the Water Administration?”

He turned back in puzzlement, lowering his voice to ask,

“What is it—do you know this fishing bully?”

Zhang Wu glanced at the numerous tax collectors around and, suppressing his grief and rage, whispered back:

“Know him? If not for that traitorous scum, our father wouldn’t have died so young...”

His younger brother Zhang Wen, more articulate, quickly explained to Wang Cheng.

Xue Da, too, was once a boat-dwelling Tanka, but he had joined a mainland gang early on, using his familiarity with his own people to rise as a fishing bully and turn against his kin.

Though the Tanka made their homes on boats, the resources drawn from the sea could not fully meet their needs. To trade fish for daily necessities, they had to approach the harbors—even if they evaded the Water Administration, they could not escape the fishing bullies.

Xue Da’s actions were despicable, no different from the division between the Free Trade and Raider Factions.

But four years ago, their father, Zhang Lu, fished up a finely carved box from the vast ocean by chance. Xue Da happened upon it, seized the box, and beat their father severely with his mastery of the Yaksha cudgel technique.

If the Zhangs had money, they might have found an official doctor to treat the wounds, but for fishermen, a day not worked meant a day not eaten. They had no savings, and a large family to feed. Zhang Lu had to keep going out to sea despite his illness, which became chronic.

Knowing his end was near, he spent the next three years saving every possible coin for his sons, finally buying a boat for them. By the time the “Zhang Fushun” was successfully launched and another son was born, he died in his prime—before reaching forty.

Four years ago, Zhang Wu was only fifteen, Zhang Wen just thirteen. Four years later, strangers might not remember them, but they recognized the villain who hadn’t changed much.

“When he stole the box, he vanished from Moon Harbor. We searched everywhere and found no trace. Now, to see he’s attached himself to the Water Administration—revenge will be near impossible.”

Wang Cheng patted the brothers’ shoulders, telling them to keep their composure, then activated his “Treasures Aplenty” ability to appraise Xue Da.

[Treasure: Xue Da, 31, Tanka boatman, lowly status under Grand Zhao.

Fate of Greed and Broken Seal:
When the pillar of destiny is the seal, but wealth stars clash with the seal, it foretells misfortune!
Such a fate makes one acutely sensitive to valuables, skilled at smuggling and finding hidden things, and far more likely than others to encounter strange fortunes.
But those so fated are doomed to leave home, lack a stable livelihood, struggle with study, suffer for wealth, lose their mother young, have weak health, move frequently, be superficial and unlearned, face family discord—these curses strike without fail.
When fortune turns, disaster follows—job loss, forced to sea, or death for money. Wealth gained is hard to keep; hence, it’s called the “Golden Bridal Robe Fate.”
Official rank: None (mortal, Yaksha cudgel master)
Obsession: Has pledged himself to a Fujian official, swearing to help his new master seize control of Moon Harbor and gain rank and fortune.
Value: Minus three thousand incense coins (his fate is worthless, but he may possess treasures)]

It was Wang Cheng’s first time seeing someone rated with negative value.

“This man, with his Greed and Broken Seal fate, betrays his kin and aids oppressors. He’s no treasure, only a curse! But unless I’m closer, or have more ties, my appraisal can’t see what exactly Xue Da stole from the Zhangs back then.

From the brothers’ description, though, it’s likely the very treasure I suspect.”

Especially after reading the fate’s description, Wang Cheng silently pronounced Xue Da’s death sentence.

“That bridal robe... No, this blood feud must be avenged!”

As these thoughts flashed through his mind, two tax collectors and several assistants approached the Zhang Fushun, account books in hand, tallying the numbers.

After scrutinizing the boatful of distinctive Tanka, one tax collector announced coldly,

“By imperial law, the Tanka head tax is two dou, eight sheng, and five ge of rice per person per month—three shi, four dou, two sheng per year (about 410 catties), or two taels, seven qian of silver. To pay arrears for three years is eight taels, one qian.”

Wang Cheng drew a sharp breath.

No wonder those fishermen ahead were in such despair.

It’s said that commoners’ lives hang by a thread; one disaster, and a self-sufficient farmer can be ruined, forced into tenancy, or have his family destroyed by corvée. But even that is not the true bottom.

The Tanka’s fishing head tax is double that of ordinary peasants. To be a fisherman in Grand Zhao is the height of misfortune.

With thirteen Tanka aboard the Zhang Fushun, arrears for three years totaled one hundred and five taels, three qian.

For comparison, a reasonably prosperous farmer might earn eighteen taels a year. Coming up with a hundred taels at once would require selling all they owned.

And yet, it didn’t end there.

That was just the state head tax; local authorities would also demand “shipmaster silver” and “waterway fees.”

The tax collector glanced at the register and added,

“Large boats: four taels. Small boats: two taels.
Your seagoing fishing boat counts as large—add another four taels. The total is one hundred nine taels, three qian.”

Still not finished.

Xue Da leaped nimbly onto the Zhang Fushun’s deck, his big nose twitching as he sniffed around.

“In addition to the commuted silver, you must pay the original tax: one-tenth of all fish landed each trip.
You’ve had a good catch this time—dried fish, and plenty of fresh delicacies...”

Suddenly, Zhang Wu’s face changed, and he whispered anxiously,

“Oh no! Scholar, the fish we just caught—”

But it was too late.

Xue Da had already lifted the lid of the wooden barrel, exclaiming in delight,

“Ha! Sirs, look what I’ve found—a ten-thousand-sea treasure on our very first day of tax collection!

We’re going to be rich!”