Volume One: The Overseer and the Scholar Chapter Fifty: Qi Changfeng (Part One)

When these few men tried to enter the Ministry of War, they were stopped by the guards at the gate.

“Do you even realize what time it is? You think you can just barge in like that? If you want to handle official business here, you ought to arrive earlier. Do you understand the rules?”

Though annoyed by the scolding of these low-ranking soldiers, the men could only force a smile and explain, “It’s just that we live far away, and there were some delays on the way…”

“That’s not my concern. If you want your business done, come back early tomorrow.”

“Why tomorrow? It’s still afternoon—”

But before the question was finished, the guard snapped, “Do you know what place this is? Do you know how much official business passes through the Ministry of War every day? Do you think the officials have time to waste on the likes of you?”

“You’re just here looking for a position, aren’t you? If you had merit or a record of military service, you’d have been appointed already. As for you lot, it’s clear you’re not destined for such things!”

Hearing this, the men grew even more anxious. “But after today, all the officer appointments for the year will be finalized. We’ve come a long way for this, and we’re all hereditary officers...”

“What’s that got to do with us? We’re just following the rules,” one guard said, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together meaningfully in front of their eyes.

The gesture made Huang Ming chuckle. He wondered if these fellows truly didn’t understand or simply begrudged parting with their silver. Rather than offer a small bribe, they wasted time arguing, forcing the guard to make his meaning plain.

As the saying goes, “It’s easier to see the King of Hell than his little devils.” In offices like this, the hardest part of seeking help is getting your foot in the door. In truth, who among those who’d entered before hadn’t greased a palm? The time of day had nothing to do with it.

At last, understanding dawned. Though it pained them, the men produced a few taels of silver to smooth the way—save for one, who simply stood there, making no move to pay.

“Brother Qi, if you’re short on cash, let me cover you for now,” a companion offered kindly.

“No… there’s no need,” he replied with a wry smile and a shake of his head. “Even if I get into the Ministry, I fear the rest will be just as difficult. You go on without me.”

“But you spent so much getting to the capital—if you miss this chance—”

Before he could finish his words, the guard, now impatient, urged, “Are you going in or not? Why are you blocking the Ministry’s gate?”

Thus pressed, the others had no choice but to proceed, casting their companion a glance. “We’ll go in, then…” they said with a sigh, and stepped inside.

“Brother Qi” lingered for a moment, dazed, then let out a long sigh, turned with reluctance and resignation, and began to walk away, his steps heavy with disappointment.

Seeing this, Huang Ming hurried to intercept him. “Greetings, good sir.”

But the man clearly wanted nothing to do with him and tried to step around.

Huang Ming moved to block his path. “Sir, you did the right thing. They shouldn’t be allowed to extort money under the guise of official business.”

At these words, the man finally stopped and looked up. “You think we shouldn’t pay to enter?”

“Exactly. If no one gave money, they’d have no reason to keep demanding it.”

“But then we’d never get into the office…”

“If everyone refused to enter, the ones to suffer would be these doorkeepers in the end.”

Huang Ming’s words left him thoughtful. “But how could that ever happen? The world is what it is: the officials inside demand money for posts, so naturally the guards outside follow their example…”

“One day, things will change—so long as we hold fast to what is right,” Huang Ming said earnestly. “Brother, I feel a kinship with you. Shall we go to that tavern over there, share a meal, and talk at leisure?”

Brother Qi hesitated, but eventually nodded. “Then I’ll take you up on your kindness.”

…

Hongbin House was one of only two taverns within the Zhengyang Gate, nestled among several key ministries. Its location alone spoke of powerful patrons, and those who dined there were either wealthy or high-born.

As a result, the prices were thirty percent higher than elsewhere in the capital. Yet business never lagged; even past mealtime, the place was filled with guests.

At a south-facing window table, five or six seasonal dishes and a small jar of bamboo-leaf wine had been served. Just this meal cost five taels of silver.

“These prices are outrageous. This table alone could pay for more than half a month’s lodging outside the city.”

Huang Ming smiled again and poured his companion a cup. “Life in the capital is no easy matter. Without substantial means or an official post, coming to Beijing truly is no blessing.”

As his companion sighed, Huang Ming continued, “It seems, brother, that you’re in a difficult spot. By the way, may I ask your name?”

“It’s nothing grand. I’m Qi Changfeng.” Clearly fond of drink, he tossed back his cup in one gulp.

Huang Ming refilled it. “Do you have a courtesy name?”

Seeing Qi’s puzzled look, he explained, “A style name, perhaps?”

“I’m just a soldier. I’ve no such refined things. Just call me Qi Changfeng.”

“From your bearing, I’d wager you’re from the north?”

“Yes. I’m from Datong, born into a military household. When my father was alive, he was promoted to company captain for merit. But he died of illness, so though I inherited his post, I had to start as a junior officer.”

Perhaps the wine had loosened his tongue, for Qi Changfeng began to recount his story. “But I never complained. Wasn’t it just a matter of earning merit on the battlefield? With the swordsmanship passed down in my family, I joined the army at sixteen, and in twelve years, rose to the rank of centurion through my own deeds.”

“So you have rendered considerable service to the court—my apologies for being unaware,” Huang Ming said, standing to offer a respectful toast.

Qi Changfeng waved a hand, drinking as he did. “You flatter me. It’s just a few military merits. What do they really amount to?

“As for being a centurion, that’s even less worth mentioning. Even in Datong, it’d take but a word from above to strip me of everything, and send me to the capital, waiting on the Ministry for some other post.”

With that, he downed two more cups in succession, his face etched with deep helplessness and bitterness.

Huang Ming understood at last. “So you were forced out of your post, denied the rank you’d earned, and sent to the capital, all for the sake of some so-called opportunity?”

“Exactly. All because I refused to share my merits with some well-connected coward!”