Translated by Fossilised Firefly.
Their stay at the temple lasted half a month. When the city fell, the Prefect1 had fled even faster than Feibai and Su Mo, hightailing it all the way to hide out in neighbouring Xi’an Prefecture; only now that the chaos in Fengxiang had been fully placated and the government offices repaired was he finally returning. Feibai stood outside the city walls to welcome him, then entered the city alongside the soldiers stationed at the temple. Other officials who had escaped death that terrible night had also returned one by one to deal with the aftermath of the incident.
Fengxiang was a city of great strategic importance west of Xi’an.2 The disturbance, though short-lived, had caused quite the stir. It was impossible to hide from the imperial court, and neither could negligent local officials hope to escape punishment. Yet, Xue Feibai remained blissfully worry-free, convinced that he bore little responsibility for something that occurred only a few days into this tenure. Still unfamiliar with his colleague, he cared little for them, and they naturally cared little for him in return. Just like that, he trudged brainlessly through another half month. Only the junior officer from the temple seemed to be on friendlier terms with him, for said officer travelled all the way into the city bearing news.
“Judge Xue, why haven’t you prepared anything? The imperial court has dispatched a Regional Investigating Censor to Fengxiang.3 His sole purpose is to find those responsible for losing the city. All the other officials, no matter their rank, are busy preparing for his arrival, yet you’re still clueless and unwilling to cough up a single coin. Be careful lest you displease the Censor and he makes you shoulder the blame for dereliction of duty. What an undeserved calamity that would be!”
While Feibai was young and conceited, he was not so aloof to the point of being oblivious to the ways of the world. As soon as he heard the officer’s warning, he rushed to gather valuables and prepared a hefty gift. Learning from his colleagues, he too sent a retainer to welcome the Censor and present his “best regards”. Such a task naturally fell to Su Mo, his closest confidante at the time. Yet a few days later, Su Mo returned bearing the unopened gift.
“His Excellency the Censor accepted your name card but returned your gift.” Pausing for a moment, he continued, “But he accepted everyone else’s gifts.”
“Why would he do that?” Feibai asked in shock.
“This lowly one doesn’t know. His Excellency also summoned this lowly one over and asked amiably, ‘Is Judge Xue the famed scholar of Suzhou, Xue Feibai? I’ve heard of him in the capital but never met him in person. It seems that we’re fated to meet this time. How could I possibly do anything to offend him?’”
Feibai was accustomed the admiration of others and immediately relaxed upon hearing Su Mo’s recount. “So he’s a capital official assigned to a regional post. He probably knows my name because my friends have sung my praises.”
Su Mo noticed the self-satisfaction that dripped from Feibai’s words and manner. He could not help but caution, “Be careful, Master. I’ve a feeling that the Censor’s intentions aren’t necessarily good.”
Feibai was unconvinced. “So his intentions are bad? Could it be that he didn’t accept my gift because he found it insufficient?”
Su Mo wanted to say something but changed his mind, opting to end the conversation with another warning. “Master, please be cautious.”
Never one to worry, Feibai did not take Su Mo’s warning to heart. Besides, even if he wanted to be on guard, how could he afford to do so? It was customary for officials to pay the Censor a courtesy visit once he entered the city. A smiling and genial man in his early fifties, the Censor was exceptionally polite when he received Feibai, heaping him with favour and keeping him behind for an extra hour4 to chat with him. Su Mo grew anxious waiting outside, and night fell before he saw Feibai step out of the Censor’s field office.
Su Mo jogged up to greet him, only relaxing once he had looked over Feibai from head to toe and confirmed that he appeared his usual self. “Why did His Excellency keep you for so long? Did he have something to tell you?”
“No, we just talked about the capital’s scenery,” Feibai replied. A while later, he frowned, “This Censor is an unrefined man, but what I find so strange is, how come he knows so much about me and my capital friends? He has no cultured tastes of his own, but knows to probe around for gossip from literary societies so that he can joke at me. Hmph, are my affairs meant to be ripe for his teasing?”
Su Mo’s heart sank; he wanted to speak up but could not. At last, he finally said, “Master didn’t offend him, did you? You’ve a bad temper and even less patience.”
“I’m not that bad-tempered,” Feibai retorted. “I still know when it’s time to be sensible. I just let him ramble on for a while. There’s no offence in that, so I presume I’ll be fine.”
Even so, Feibai’s foul temper still reared its ugly head when he feigned illness and missed the grand banquet the prefectural officials held a few days later. Another few days after that, the Censor returned the favour by holding a banquet of his own in honour of Fengxiang’s officials. This time, Feibai stayed for a while before slipping away again. The next day, he dropped off a letter of apology while the Censor was away visiting the Prefect. This was a common practice in official circles for avoiding someone, and Feibai was certain that the Censor would understand his desire for “respect at a distance”.
Imagine his surprise, then, when the Censor sent his trusted personal assistant to call on Feibai’s residence that very evening. This assistant minced no words upon arrival, declaring, “His Excellency admires your elegance, but did not expect to be refused like this. Hence, he has sent this student to come and convey some heartfelt words to Judge Xue.” The hall was cleared and Su Mo stood outside the door along with the other servants, unaware of what was being discussed inside. The only thing they could hear was Feibai’s voice as it grew higher and higher until suddenly, there came a stern shout of “Bring tea!”5
Su Mo and company were startled. Together, a few servants pushed open the door and entered the hall to find Feibai with a raised tea-bowl in hand—a clear indication that the guest had outstayed his welcome. His face was flushed with fury and the tea-bowl in his hand shook so badly that its contents spilt onto his sleeve. It was obvious that he was not seeing his guest off so much as driving him away.
The assistant stood and bowed in farewell, but the smile on his face remained unmoved. “Why play innocent, Judge Xue? Everyone in the capital knows you’re a friend of the amorous realm, and the most affable one at that. What’s the point in making up excuses now? Besides, His Excellency has treated you especially favourably by not citing you for neglect of duty. With everything he has done for you, how come you haven’t returned a peach for his plum?”6
Feibai’s anger boiled over, the redness on his face receding inch by inch, replaced by a ghastly white. He rebuked sternly, “How can you utter such vile and shameless words as a civilised scholar! Report back to His Excellency that this humble Xue was only three days into his tenure when bandits overran the city. If I am really to be blamed for any part in this matter, feel free to write it all down! You may leave now!”
The assistant chuckled as he cupped his hands. Once he reached the door, he turned around and left a parting remark. “This student only spoke about the Judge’s affairs in the capital. It seems that vile and shameless deeds are most befitting those in scholars’ attire!”
Finally, Feibai was so infuriated that he smashed the tea-bowl and slumped into a chair. Su Mo rushed to clean up and comfort him, but Feibai only shouted, “Clean up! Grind ink! I’m going to write my resignation. I’m returning home as soon as I hang up my seal! I don’t want this wusha hat7 anymore, and neither will I endure this disgusting ridicule!”
“Don’t be reckless!” Su Mo urged. “They’re deciding who’s guilty at this very moment—how can you resign just because you want to?”
Feibai immediately lost heart. At last, he finally broke the silence. “Then I’ll wait for him to find me guilty and remove me from office. Either way, I’ll never give in to his demands.”
Although Su Mo knew what he meant, he still asked anyway. “What did His Excellency the Censor want Master to do?”
Feibai glared at him and refused to answer. With a shake of his sleeves, he stalked into the inner room for a change of clothing. Given Feibai’s temperament, Su Mo knew he could not suffer such unfair treatment in silence. That night, he stuck to Feibai’s side like a shadow, waiting for him to vent his frustrations. Yet to his surprise, Feibai remained uncharacteristically quiet and refused to speak a single word. Su Mo had no choice but to prod at him. “You musn’t disregard what that assistant said today. This lowly roughly knows that the Censor is after. Right now, Master’s entire future rests in the Censor’s hands. It’s truly hard to disobey him.”
Feibai was beyond indignant and blurted, “A toad that dreams of tasting the swan’s flesh—is he even worthy?”
Su Mo lowered his head, gazing at the floorboards as he said, “This lowly one really doesn’t understand why …”
“Whether you understand or not, it’s not for you to ask about,” Feibai interrupted. “You make such a terrible clamour. Shut your mouth and get out!”
But Su Mo continued his question, an edge of harshness creeping into his voice, “… I’ve seen how Master interacts with ‘close friends’. You indulge in worldly pleasures and throw all restraint to the wind with no sense of self-respect. This Censor is also a graduate of the imperial examinations and a high-ranking official, so it’s not shameful to be with him. Moreover, he has Master by the neck. What’s the harm in going along with him? It’s not as if Master didn’t do the same thing in Suzhou and Beijing. Why make such a fuss about it here?”
Feibai was incensed. His hand flew up, delivering a resounding slap to Su Mo’s face. “Do you take me for some cheap whore, selling my body under the guise of friendship?”
Though his temper was short, Feibai rarely resorted to physical violence. He must have been truly furious to slap Su Mo, so hard that he stumbled and bled from the edge of his mouth. Even so, Su Mo stared at Feibai, joy rippling across his face. His lips cracked into a small smile and he muttered, “I knew it. You … might be dissolute, but you still have self-respect.”
The flames of fury temporarily overrode his worry. Yet when his anger abated the following day, worry returned to weigh even heavier on his heart. All too aware that his days in office were limited, Feibai decided that he might as well start packing while he waited for the Censor to unleash his resentment through a guilty verdict. A few days passed uneventfully, but he learned that the junior officer had been promoted to Vice Regional Commander in light of his meritorious service. Feeling honoured to be his acquaintance—and still owing him a favour for his tipoff—Feibai was obliged to reciprocate his kindness with a gift. When he went to congratulate him, the new Commander pulled him into a private room and immediately said, “Judge Xue, you’re in peril! Don’t you know that the Censor has submitted a report fabricating charges to frame you for a capital offence?”
Feibai was terrified. “I’d only just arrived at my post when the bandits came upon us. How can I bear any major blame? At most, I’d be guilty of failing to placate a rebellion and abandoning the city. It’s enough to simply remove me from office—why has he concocted a capital offence!”
The Commander shook his head. “You’re still so foolish! He said you’re working with the bandits, coordinating from the inside. That’s why the city fell as soon as you arrived. This is a death sentence!”
In his youthful naivety, Feibai had never imagined just how treacherous officialdom could be. Overwhelming horror had turned his legs turned soft and he raised his voice, calling for Su Mo who had been waiting in the corridor. Alarmed by his master’s panicked calls, Su Mo darted inside and steadied Feibai while demanding, “What happened?”
Feibai was drenched in cold sweat and replied curtly, his face deathly pale. “How vicious! He’s lower than dogs and swine—I’ll write a memorial of my own to impeach him.”
“He outranks you ten times over!”8 the Commander retorted. “Do you really think you can defeat him? Now’s not the time for speaking in anger. You should come up with a plan as soon as possible.”
Su Mo cut in, “Sir, you must understand that my Master is from Shanghai County, Songjiang Prefecture in the Southern Metropolitan Region, and he has been living in Suzhou Prefecture.9 How can he be colluding with Shaanxi bandits when he hasn’t been to the northwest before? Besides, my Master and I stayed at your camp after we fled the fallen city. Sir, you’re a witness to all of this. What collaborator would help government soldiers to fight banditry after completing mission instead of joining them in robbery?”
Su Mo sank to his knees as he spoke, “Sir, this matter rests entirely in your hands now. Please, for the sake of your friendship with my Master, save him from certain death.”
Feibai was already scared out of his wits. Hearing Su Mo’s words, he added, “Yes, that’s exactly right!”
Footnotes
1. 知府, the Prefect is the highest administrative authority in a Prefecture. [Back]
2. 西安, the capital of Shaanxi Province. Fengxiang is also a city and prefecture in Shaanxi Province. [Back]
3. 巡按御史, these Censors were tasked with touring the provinces on behalf of the emperor and reporting on what they saw. If they encountered corruption or dereliction of duty, they could take direct action on smaller matters, or write to impeach officials for more major issues. They’re essentially a travelling inspector for the central anti-corruption agency. [Back]
4. 时辰, a traditional Chinese hour (shichen) is equal to 2 modern hours. [Back]
5. Saying “bring tea” is a way of seeing off one’s guests. [Back]
6. 投桃报李, lit. “give a plum in return for a peach”, idiom for returning a gift with a gift. [Back]
7. 乌纱帽, literally “black gauze hat”. It is the hat worn by Ming officials as part of their daily uniform (known as changfu, 常服). Visual reference. Over time, the phrase “wusha hat” grew to refer to officials and official posts in general. [Back]
8. Technically speaking, Feibai and the Censor have the same rank on paper. Feibai is a Judge (推管) in the provinces, so his rank should be 正七品, or upper 7th rank. The Censor is a Regional Investigating Censor (巡按御史), which is also upper 7th rank. However, a Regional Investigating Censor serves as a representative of the central government and the emperor while in the prefectures. As such, his actual power is far greater than his rank would suggest. [Back]
9. 南直隶, the “Southern Metropolitan Region”, refers to the administrative region around the southern auxiliary capital of Nanjing, more formally known as Yingtian Prefecture (应天府). The administrative status of the Southern Metropolitan Region was the same as the provinces, known as Provincial Administration Commissions (承宣布正使司). The Region is subdivided into various Prefectures (府) and sub-prefectures (州), although these were of equal ranking, unlike those in the provinces. Going another step down from the Prefectures and Sub-prefectures, we have the Counties/Districts (县). For a more detailed overview of the administrative structure, see Charles Hucker’s Governmental Organisation of The Ming Dynasty. [Back]
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