Section Six

As the saying goes, one cannot serve two purposes at once. Since he was accompanying his wife, Lin Feng devoted himself wholeheartedly to her company, without any thought of using the opportunity to inspect the lives of the people. In reality, with his current position, such "investigations" would be superfluous. Affairs of this sort were the proper duty of lower officials. Unlike those foolish emperors who grew up sheltered in the inner palace, Lin Feng himself was born of common stock and had a fair understanding of the people's concerns; there was little need for him to conduct undercover visits among them.

To speak plainly, for a ruler, these so-called "disguised excursions" were, in most cases, little more than excuses for leisure. Those trite tales from later films and dramas, depicting the supreme leader expending immense energy to right a single commoner's wrongs, are, from a political standpoint, acts of utter folly. Presently, under the Han government’s rule, there were tens of millions of subjects, and even if only a fraction suffered oppression or injustice, their numbers would reach into the hundreds of thousands. No matter how industrious Lin Feng might be in his clandestine excursions, he could not possibly address them all. Thus, this so-called “redress for the people” served little purpose beyond flaunting one’s power; it bore scant political significance.

Before setting out, Lin Feng made meticulous preparations for the journey. Although the Han regime’s authority in the capital was largely secure, there remained a considerable number of diehard loyalists to the former Qing dynasty in Beijing. No one could guarantee that a few would-be assassins might not emerge from their ranks. As a prince, Lin Feng had no desire to gamble his life against such desperate men. So, while Wu Yingke was in high spirits, delighted by the prospect of disguising herself, Lin Feng and Colonel Li Ergou quietly drew up a modest security plan.

Of course, Lin Feng judged all this by the standards of the twenty-first century, whereas those around him, including Wu Yingke, thought nothing of the sort. In truth, such expectations were anachronistic for this era. Though Lin Feng was the highest authority here, he could not, by sheer will, revolutionize public hygiene overnight. In an age when the majority went hungry, to lavish vast resources on public sanitation would be an act of folly.

Venturing out for the first time, Wu Yingke was visibly delighted. It was well known that a woman's excitement often spelled disaster for the man beside her. Along the way, she developed a keen interest in the crude, counterfeit goods hawked at the roadside stalls. During this process, Lin Feng found himself relegated to the role of bill-payer and baggage carrier. The list of purchases ranged from candied hawthorn sticks to enamel dolls and grotesque masks—everything one could imagine. This was truly alarming, for after only two streets, the weight of Lin Feng’s burdens had already surpassed thirty kilograms, forcing him to summon one of his hidden guards for relief.

According to their itinerary, today’s destination was the area beneath the Heavenly Bridge—the most popular entertainment spot in Beijing, as analyzed by the General Staff. Most of the performances there were said to be wholesome. Though the risk was marginally higher, thorough security precautions were in place, and Lin Feng doubted any local terrorist would recognize him anyway. After all, in this era, there was no concept of television news, so he need not worry about being widely recognized.

The group wandered for over an hour, their pace set by the princess’s whims, stopping here and there. As they neared their destination, an unexpected incident occurred. While the princess was browsing in a jewelry shop, a violent brawl erupted in the restaurant across the street. The melee was substantial—Lin Feng, observing from afar, counted forty or fifty men involved, and the chaos was escalating. Where it began with both sides wielding benches to batter each other’s heads, the arrival of reinforcements soon turned it into a fray with iron weapons. Surprisingly, the passersby seemed utterly unfazed by the bloody spectacle; even the shopkeepers nearby did not bother to close their doors. The narrow street was instantly packed with onlookers, many pointing, laughing, and even cheering the brawlers on.

“You’re the Prefect of Chengtian, aren’t you? What was your name again…?” Lin Feng caught sight of him but suddenly forgot his name.

“Your humble servant, Duan Tiande, Prefect of Chengtian, greets Your Highness!” Being called out by Lin Feng steadied Duan somewhat, and he respectfully bowed low in salute.

“What that Wang Bajin fellow just said—was it true?!”

“…”

“So it was. Tsk, tsk. So your stance is that, as long as they don’t trouble other citizens, you turn a blind eye to these scoundrels brawling in the street?”

“Your humble servant… I am guilty beyond pardon! I beg Your Highness to mete out punishment!” Duan Tiande hesitated, then, with a wry smile, admitted his fault without the slightest attempt to defend himself.

“Oh?” Lin Feng was puzzled by his candor, finding it rather unusual. “No need to be so aggrieved, Lord Duan. Come, come, get up—sit here! Tell me, what’s the real story behind all this?”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Duan Tiande edged onto the seat, hands clasped respectfully. “Your Highness is wise. There is indeed more to this matter, and I find myself in a difficult position.” Seeing Lin Feng’s confusion, he explained, “According to the new commercial tax laws of the Han principality, merchants are no longer limited to family inheritance as in the past. As long as they register with the authorities, anyone can start a business. Now, everyone in Beijing is scrambling for shops, supplies, and customers, leading to endless disputes. The more prudent citizens file suits with the magistrate, and with patience, a verdict may come in seven or eight months. But those… well, those with powerful patrons, cannot wait so long, so they…”

“Ah, my good fellow,” Lin Feng interjected, still smiling, “the sages taught that officials must have backbone. Why should you fear their connections? Am I not here to support you?”

“Your Highness, it’s not that your servant fears offending superiors. The truth is, our Han laws are incomplete and sometimes conflict in enforcement…” Duan Tiande gave a bitter smile. “By Lord Li’s command, we still follow many late Ming statutes, though the commercial codes have changed much. Yet, many cases are so entangled they cannot be resolved quickly. Sometimes, I truly do not know the right course.”

Lin Feng understood. The Ming laws were notoriously harsh on merchants, and sudden reforms were no easy matter. Besides, his administration favored commerce and industry, so even if officials tried to judge by the strictest Confucian standards, it was a fraught task. Beyond legal hurdles, many merchants had begun to infiltrate the government, or officials’ families themselves ventured into business, making it nearly impossible to separate interests fairly.

After much thought, Lin Feng still hesitated. Wu Yingke, beside him, nudged him and whispered, “A-Feng, what are you thinking about?”

“Oh, nothing—Lord Duan, let’s leave it at that. Arrest those scoundrels, give each a sound beating, and send word to the Jin Hui Chamber of Commerce and our military families: from now on, they are to conduct their business properly. If they fight again, let them be imprisoned, do you understand?”

Before Duan Tiande could reply, Wu Yingke burst out, “They act so brazenly… and that’s all?”

“Ahem… you don’t understand… governing is complicated…” Lin Feng felt a bit embarrassed; his earlier show of force now ended rather feebly.

“But… A-Feng,” Wu Yingke pressed, thoroughly bewildered, “aren’t you the King of Han? Aren’t you the highest authority here? Can’t you deal with them?”

“Ahem, yes, I am the King of Han, but… but even a king cannot always do as he pleases,” Lin Feng whispered helplessly into his wife’s ear.