Huangming

Chapter 472 The Yan Family of Huzhou, Gambling with Their Lives on a Perilous Journey

The second year of the Tianqi reign.

Early October.

Songjiang Mansion.

One hundred li to the east of here lies the vast sea, and sixty li to the west is Changzhou County of Suzhou Prefecture.

Nearly a month has passed since the flood.

The city of Songjiang Prefecture has quickly returned to its former prosperity.

The "Songjin" banner of the cloth shop fluttered in the wind, the indigo blue water from the dye house flowed slowly down the ditch, the looms in the weavers' homes clattered incessantly, and even the shop selling soup dumplings on the street corner had a long queue.

Beside Rouge Lane in the south of the city stands a huge mansion with blue bricks and gray tiles, and the stone lions on both sides of the gate are even more shiny from being washed by the rain.

This is the old residence of the Yan family, cloth merchants from Huzhou, in Songjiang. The Yan family has been in the cotton cloth business for generations, and they have established businesses in Songjiang and Suzhou since the Jiajing period.

Now, it has even monopolized half of the "Songjiang Cloth" transported to the capital. The mansion alone supports thousands of weavers. There is also a special cloth drying yard in the back garden of the mansion. On sunny days, the cotton cloth on the yard is spread out like white snow, so dazzling that people can't open their eyes.

But at this moment, in the ancestral hall deep inside the Yan mansion, there was no trace of the mansion's luxury and liveliness; instead, a sense of oppressive coldness permeated the air.

In the center of the ancestral hall are the ancestral tablets of the Yan family. The tablets are made of sandalwood and have gilded names engraved on them. On the offering table are sacrificial offerings of three kinds of animals. Incense sticks are burning and wisps of smoke are rising, making the air a bit pungent.

Yan Kuan, the current head of the Yan family, was standing with his hands behind his back beside the offering table. He was wearing a dark silk robe, his face was as black as if he had just been pulled out of a dye house, and his brows were furrowed into a deep "川" character.

If it weren't for the ancestral tablets being placed before him, he probably would have already taken action.

Kneeling on the prayer mat in front of the offering table was a young man in his early twenties, Yan Kuan's eldest son, Yan Junbin.

He was wearing a moon-white long robe with ink stains on the cuffs, clearly indicating that he had been pulled directly from the desk.

The cushion under his knees was deformed from being pressed down by him, but his back was taut and straight. His head was slightly lowered, and the wisps of hair on his forehead covered his eyes, revealing only his tightly pursed lips, which showed a stubbornness that refused to give in.

"Do you understand?"

Yan Kuan's voice, as if chilled to the bone, shattered the silence of the ancestral hall.

"You've broken off your relationship with that prostitute in the capital. I've already asked someone to arrange a marriage for you with a girl from the Zhang family in Suzhou."

The Zhang family is in the silk business. With their marriage alliance with the Yan family, we will be able to control the cloth markets in Songjiang and Suzhou even more tightly in the future.

This business will be yours sooner or later, don't be so confused about this kind of thing!

This isn't the first time he's said this.

A year ago, he sent Yan Junbin to Beijing, firstly to deliver newly produced "cloud-patterned satin" from Songjiang and two bushels of South Sea pearls to the Ministry of Revenue official in the capital, hoping to smooth things over and reduce the cotton cloth tax this year.

Secondly, it was to let his son become familiar to the powerful and influential people in the capital. After all, he was nearly fifty years old, and the burden of the Yan family would eventually be handed over to Yan Junbin's shoulders.

But who would have thought that when this young man arrived in the capital, he didn't accomplish much of his business. Instead, he became entangled with a prostitute named Zhou Miaotong and even dared to write back saying he wanted to "properly marry her."

This is practically throwing the Yan family's face on the ground and stomping on it!
Upon hearing this, Yan Junbin abruptly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot, but his neck remained stiff, and although his voice trembled slightly, it revealed a stubbornness:
“Father, Miss Miaotong is not the kind of ‘prostitute’ you’re talking about!”
She is well-versed in poetry and literature and skilled at playing the pipa. Last time I heard her play "Xiao Xiang Shui Yun" in the capital, even the literary star of the Hanlin Academy praised her for her noble character.

We truly love each other; please, Father, grant us your blessing!

How could he give up on Zhou Miaotong?

During his time in the capital, he accompanied the steward to deliver gifts to the mansions of powerful officials and their families, where he became accustomed to their arrogance and snobbishness. However, when he met Zhou Miaotong, she did not look down on him because he was the "son of a cloth merchant." Instead, she accompanied him to discuss poetry and painting and even personally ground ink and wrote calligraphy for him.

Once, when he caught a cold, she cooked ginger soup overnight and brought it to him, sitting by his bedside and reading Li Qingzhao's poems to him.

How could such a gentle and talented woman be the "woman of the night" that others talk about?
He originally intended to keep it a secret from his father, hoping that his father would relent once the deed was done. However, to his surprise, the steward secretly reported the matter back, and also brought back the letter he had written.

"Really love each other?"

Yan Kuan seemed to have heard the biggest joke in the world. He slammed his hand on the offering table, causing the wine pot on the table to shake and spill a few drops of wine onto the offerings.

"Talking about the truth with a prostitute?"
Do you know that she accompanied you to play the pipa and recite poetry because you have money from the Yan family in your pocket?
Do you really think she would be interested in you, the son of a cloth merchant?

"If you didn't have the status of the eldest son of the Yan family, and didn't have this constant flow of money, would she even give you a second glance?"

He had been in the business world for thirty years and had seen too much of the hypocrisy and pretense in the world of romance.

The "talent and integrity" of those prostitutes were nothing more than a pretense to lure wealthy young men. Once they ran out of money, even the best "sincere feelings" would turn into dew.

Moreover, although the Yan family were merchants, they were also a respectable family.

The cloth merchants of Songjiang and the silk merchants of Suzhou, weren't they all married into official or aristocratic families?

If a prostitute were to enter the Yan family, not only would other cloth merchants laugh at them, but even the officials in the capital would think that the Yan family was "not respectable." In that case, their business would be hindered, their relationships would be broken, and wouldn't his decades of hard work be ruined by his son?
"no!"

Yan Junbin's face flushed red with anxiety. He tried to get up and argue, but Yan Kuan glared at him fiercely, so he could only kneel back down on the cushion, his voice pleading.

“Father, you have never met Miaotong, you don’t know how wonderful she is.”

I don't want any Zhang family daughter, nor do I want any family fortune, I just want her!

"You bastard!"

Yan Kuan was trembling with rage. He reached for the teacup on the table, about to smash it at Yan Junbin, but his gaze swept over the ancestral tablets on the altar, and he forcibly restrained himself, only smashing the teacup heavily on the ground. With a crash, the porcelain bowl shattered into several pieces, and tea splashed onto Yan Junbin's long robe, leaving dark stains.

"Family business? You think this family business is so easy to inherit?"

Yan Kuan's voice carried a hint of weariness, yet also a touch of ruthlessness.

"Let me tell you, regarding the Yan family's business, either you obediently listen to me, give up your thoughts about that prostitute, and learn how to do business and manage relationships properly."

"Either you never acknowledge me as your father, and never set foot in the Yan family again!"

The ancestral hall returned to silence, with only the hissing sound of burning incense and Yan Junbin's heavy breathing.

He looked at the broken porcelain shards on the ground, then at the ancestral tablets on the altar, his fingers gripping the hem of his long robe tightly.

On one side is the woman he truly loves, and on the other side is his father who raised him for twenty years and the family business passed down through generations. What should he choose?
Yan Kuan felt bad seeing his son's pained expression, but he knew he couldn't back down on this matter.

He took a deep breath and softened his tone.

"I'm giving you three days. After three days, either I'll see your letter of disassociation, or you'll pack your things and leave Songjiang. The choice is yours."

After saying all this, Yan Kuan didn't want to see this rebellious son again.

He went straight out of the ancestral hall.

However, a feeling of tightness and suffocation remained in his chest.

If Yan Junbin is truly out of touch with reality, the Yan family's business should never be handed over to someone who has been blinded by lust.

He walked towards the study, stepping on fallen leaves.

now.

In the study, a maid in green was already waiting by the door. When she saw him come in, she quickly stepped forward to take the cloak he was wearing on his arm and handed him a cup of freshly brewed Longjing tea.

The teacup is made of Yixing purple clay, with a warm luster on the rim. The tea soup is emerald green and clear, and you can smell a sweet aroma of tofu when you get close.

This is a newly harvested Lion Peak Longjing tea, a rare find for ordinary people. He obtained it through a friend in the Hangzhou government.

In the past, he always loved to savor his tea slowly by the window, watching the smoke rising from the chimneys of the weavers' houses outside. But today, the moment his fingertips touched the teacup, before he could even take a sip, he heard the steward's hurried footsteps outside the courtyard.

"Sir! A message has arrived from Nanjing!"

The manager's voice sounded somewhat flustered; he was still outside the courtyard gate.

Yan Kuan's face instantly darkened, and his previous leisurely mood for tea tasting vanished.

He put down his teacup and gestured with his chin toward the steward: "What's the message?"

The steward looked around and slowly relayed the message from Nanjing.

"These important figures... actually want to incite weavers and refugees to riot, and even want to destroy the Disaster Relief Office?"

Yan Kuan's voice was extremely low, tinged with disbelief.

The officials in Nanjing planned to use the pretext of the proclamation meeting to incite the weavers and displaced people affected by the flood in Songjiang, Suzhou, Huzhou and other places while the officials from various prefectures were attending. They wanted to muddy the waters so that Yuan Keli would be unable to investigate the cloth merchants' delay in producing raw silk.

The steward, standing to the side, noticed Yan Kuan's unusual expression and cautiously advised:
"Sir, this is a matter of losing your head!"

If the riots escalate, the authorities will definitely investigate. If our Yan family gets involved, I'm afraid...

Why don't we just pretend we didn't receive the message and stay out of it?

"You're not going to do it?"

Yan Kuan slowly raised his head, his eyes filled with helpless bitterness.

"Do you think we can just quit if we don't want to do it?"
But this isn't a matter of 'wanting or not,' it's something that must be done.

He walked to the window and looked out at the densely packed courtyards of weaving households.

In those low, blue-brick houses lived hundreds of weavers who depended on the Yan family for their livelihood; the sound of their looms could be heard all the way into the mansion during the day.

But who could have known that the reason these weavers could weave cloth in peace, and that the Yan family could sell Songjiang cloth to the capital and even transport it to the sea, was never simply because they were "good at business".

"Have you forgotten what happened at the beginning of spring in the first year of the Tianqi era?"

Yan Kuan's voice carried a hint of melancholy from reminiscence.

"Back then, we transported three thousand bolts of fine cloth to Linqing. When we went through the customs, the official insisted on collecting taxes at 'three cents of silver per bolt,' which was twice as much as usual."

No matter how much we pleaded, he wouldn't budge. In the end, we had to ask Manager Li of Yingtian Prefecture to pass on a message, and only then did we manage to lower the tax to 'one cent per bolt'. That alone saved us six hundred taels of silver.

"If it weren't for Manager Li's influence, we wouldn't have even made enough to pay taxes on that business deal!"

The manager paused for a moment, then nodded.

Of course he remembered that Yan Kuan almost wanted to transport the cloth back to Songjiang, but it was a letter from Manager Li that made the customs officials relent.

"And raw silk from Huzhou."

Yan Kuan added, his tone tinged with helplessness.

“Our Yan family makes high-end fine cloth, which requires ‘Jili silk’ from Huzhou. However, most of those mulberry orchards are private property of officials and gentry, and ordinary cloth merchants simply cannot obtain the goods.”

Two years ago, in order to collect silk, we sent five hundred bolts of fine cloth to the prefect of Huzhou, and in return, he tacitly allowed us to smuggle silk from the government-run weaving bureau.

"Without the support of these important figures, our looms would have stopped long ago, and we wouldn't have the business we have today!"

Big figures in Nanjing
The message from the steward was most likely delivered by Zhou Qiyuan, the governor of Yingtian.

Zhou Qiyuan was a member of the Donglin Party. Over the years, the Yan family, through his connections, not only avoided several exorbitant taxes but also received the preferential treatment of "tax in lieu of cloth." Each bolt of cloth could be exchanged for two shi and five dou of grain, allowing them to pay 30% less than other cloth merchants.

But these "benefits" aren't free. Now Zhou Qiyuan wants them to get involved in the riot. If they dare to refuse, not only will they lose the preferential treatment, but they might not even be able to stay in Songjiang's cloth market anymore.

after all
Merchants in the Ming Dynasty were never "free".

In the fourth year of the Xuande reign, the imperial court levied additional taxes on door stalls in thirty-three major commercial towns, increasing the tax by five times. Many cloth merchants, unable to pay the taxes, had no choice but to burn their looms as firewood.

When the Xu family controlled the cotton industry in Songjiang, they stipulated that "non-Xu family businesses are not allowed to purchase Sanlintang standard cloth." A cloth merchant from another place secretly bought a few bolts, but his shop was smashed and he was almost crippled.

The Yan family has been able to establish itself in Songjiang for a century by associating with these "big shots," but now, this "rope" is about to drag them into a storm that could cost them their heads.

"But...but things are different now."

The manager's voice carried a hint of timidity.

"I've heard that His Majesty is incredibly capable. Within two years of ascending the throne, he has reorganized Xuanfu and Datong, and even sent Yuan Keli to Nanjing to take command of the military. He has replaced the Nanjing garrison with his own men."

Those important figures are going against the emperor. If we get involved, what if we lose...?

These words struck a nerve with Yan Kuan.

How could he not know the risks?

Last month, the man he sent to Nanjing returned and said that Yuan Keli had not only reorganized the garrisons, but also replaced the Jiangshui army with his own people. 100,000 troops were training outside Nanjing, and even the sound of cannons could be heard as far as the Qinhuai River.

The emperor was able to quickly quell even a rebellious general like Wang Wei, so it would be incredibly difficult for people like Zhou Qiyuan to turn the tide through an uprising.

But if they didn't get involved, Zhou Qiyuan and his group would never let the Yan family off the hook.

When the time comes, taxes will be higher, raw silk will be unavailable, and even the cargo ships transporting cloth may face difficulties. In less than six months, the Yan family will go bankrupt, and thousands of weavers will have to disband.

Yan Kuan paced back and forth in the study, his footsteps sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet room.

The Longjing tea on the table was still steaming, but he had long lost the desire to enjoy it.

On one side were the powerful officials and gentry whom he couldn't afford to offend, and on the other side was the imperial power and military might he couldn't provoke. He was like someone caught between two giant rocks; moving forward meant an abyss, and retreating meant certain death. His single-mindedness had become a double bind.

"What should I do!"

Yan Kuan took out a pipe of cigarettes and squatted down at the door of the study, smoking one cigarette after another.

He only stood up when he got tired of squatting.

He intended to return to the inner courtyard to rest, but after taking only two steps, his feet involuntarily turned towards the ancestral hall.

This matter is too big for him to handle alone, not to mention that it concerns the future of the Yan family.

Yan Junbin is the eldest son and will have to take over the family business sooner or later. He can't avoid this mess.

He turned and walked towards the ancestral hall.

The door to the ancestral hall was still ajar. When I pushed it open, the lingering scent of incense wafted out, stronger than before.

The candles on the altar were burned down to half their original size, and the wax dripped down the candlesticks, forming winding white streaks.

Yan Junbin remained kneeling on the cushion, his head bowed and his face taut, clearly still angry about Zhou Miaotong's matter.

Hearing the door open, Yan Junbin looked up abruptly, a flash of surprise crossing his eyes, like a drowning man grabbing onto a piece of driftwood:

"Father? You...you promised me?"

He thought his father had changed his mind, and even forgot about the pain in his knees, almost getting up.

Yan Kuan didn't respond to him. Instead, he walked to the offering table, picked up the wine pot on it, poured himself a glass of cold wine, and drank it all in one gulp.

The liquor went down my throat, leaving a slightly astringent taste, but it did nothing to quell the anxiety in my heart.

He slammed his wine glass down on the table and let out a cold snort:
"Promise you? Wait until I'm dead before you think about marrying that prostitute!"

The light in Yan Junbin's eyes vanished instantly, as if he had been doused with cold water. He slumped back onto the cushion, his voice filled with resentful grievance:
"If Father has returned, why bother to tease me?"

"To amuse you?"

Yan Kuan turned around and looked at his son's stubborn profile, feeling both angry and powerless.

This kid has a talent for business, but he's still too green when it comes to interpersonal relationships and risk assessment.

He walked up to Yan Junbin, squatted down, and spoke in a voice as heavy as lead:
"I've come to tell you about the important matter of the Yan family's livelihood."

If this matter is botched, forget about you marrying a prostitute; our entire Yan family of several hundred people won't even have enough to eat!

Yan Junbin was taken aback. Seeing his father's serious expression, which didn't seem like a joke, he put aside his spite and sat up straight.

"Father, what happened?"

Yan Kuan took a deep breath and recited the message from Nanjing word by word:
"The Governor Zhou and Minister Wang of Nanjing wanted our Songjiang cloth merchants to take the lead in inciting weavers and displaced people to riot."

When officials from various prefectures went to Nanjing to hold a proclamation meeting, they had the displaced people surround the disaster relief office, burned down several silk workshops, forcing Yuan Keli to stop the meeting and also forcing His Majesty to rescind the decree of "imperial power extending to the counties."

"what?!"

Yan Junbin's face turned deathly pale instantly, and his voice trembled.

"Father, absolutely not! This is going against the imperial court, against His Majesty!"

During his time in Beijing, he read the Huangming Daily quite a bit.

The newspaper was printed with reports of His Majesty's campaign to pacify Liaodong and eliminate the Jurchens, as well as new policies such as surveying land for corruption and allowing displaced people to return to their fields. News of the soldiers of the nine border regions winning their hearts and the Mongol tribes sending envoys to pay tribute also occupied most of the page.

The emperors described in those texts are wise rulers who can turn the tide and are more powerful monarchs than Emperor Xuan of Han and Emperor Xuanzong of Tang.

He still remembered that in the teahouses of the capital, even the storytellers were telling the story of the "Tianqi New Deal," saying that His Majesty had cleaned up most of the mess left at the end of the Wanli era in just two years after ascending the throne.

"His Majesty is a man of great talent and ambition, and Minister Yuan commands 100,000 troops in Nanjing. Governor Zhou and his men are like eggs hitting a rock!"

Yan Junbin grabbed his father's sleeve and urged him urgently:
"We are cloth merchants, we should just do business peacefully, how can we get involved in something that could cost us our lives?"

If things fail, we will all perish, and our entire clan will be wiped out. Father, please think it over!

Looking at his son's excited expression, Yan Kuan understood the reason perfectly well.
He knew better than anyone how powerful the current emperor was.

From the purge of the Eastern Depot and the promotion of Xiong Tingbi, to the rectification of Xuanfu and Datong, every single one of them was carried out swiftly and decisively.
But did he have a choice?

He shook off his son's hand, stood up again, walked to the ancestral altar, looked at the ancestral tablets, and his voice carried a hint of helpless bitterness:
"How could I not understand?"

When gods fight, mortals suffer.

What has enabled our Yan family to achieve what we have today?
"It was thanks to Governor Zhou's exemption of exorbitant taxes in Yingtian Prefecture, thanks to Minister Wang's intervention to reduce customs duties by 30%, and thanks to the Suzhou Textile Bureau's tacit approval of our smuggling of raw silk!"

He held up his fingers and counted them out to his son, one by one:

"Last year, the cotton cloth we transported to Hangzhou would have been taxed at three cents per bolt according to the imperial court's regulations. However, thanks to Minister Wang's note, we only had to pay one and a half cents, saving five thousand taels of silver in this one item alone."

The official price for raw silk in Huzhou is five taels per dan (a unit of weight), but through our connections with the weaving bureau, we can get it for three taels. In a year, we can earn an extra 20,000 taels just from raw silk.

There's also the brocade smuggled to the Western barbarians. The official price is twenty taels per bolt, but the Western barbarians can pay one hundred taels. Even if we give the officials thirty percent, we can still make fifty percent!

At this point, Yan Kuan's voice suddenly rose, carrying a hint of madness:

"But if we don't listen to them, we'll lose all these benefits!"
Customs duties will rise again, raw silk will not be available at low prices, and smuggling routes will be cut off!
Supplying cloth to the Jiangnan Textile Bureau only yielded a profit of one tael per bolt, ten times less than smuggling from Westerners or Japan!

Without the protection of officials, the Yan family's cloth shop would be squeezed out by Hui merchants, their dyeing workshop would go bankrupt due to exorbitant taxes, and thousands of weavers would break up.

At that point, the Yan family will truly be finished.

Marx once said: "When profits reach 10%, some people are tempted; when profits reach 50%, some people dare to take risks; when profits reach 100%, they dare to trample on all human laws; and when profits reach 300%, they are not even afraid of going to the gallows."

Yan Kuan is now facing a tenfold profit.

Even knowing the dangers ahead, he couldn't wait to rush forward.

"Father!"

Yan Kuan's words were like a bucket of ice water poured from Yan Junbin's head to his feet, making him feel cold all over.

His lips moved several times before he could barely manage to squeeze out a sound, which trembled uncontrollably:
"But...but His Majesty is not the Wanli Emperor of the past!"

Within two years of ascending the throne, he pacified Liaodong and rectified the Nine Garrisons. Even Xiong Jinglue was able to subdue Datong Town completely...

Minister Yuan commands 100,000 troops in the Beijing Garrison. If we dare to make a move, we will surely be arrested!

"At that time, not only us, but the entire Yan family will be executed!"

Yan Kuan suddenly turned around, his dark silk robe sweeping across the prayer mat under the offering table, creating a gust of wind.

The bloodshot veins in his eyes became more pronounced, like two flickering flames, revealing an almost frantic stubbornness:

"Arrest them? You think they can arrest them all!"

"The cloth merchants of Suzhou, the salt merchants of Hangzhou, and the grain merchants of Changzhou all need to follow suit!"
If the weavers start a riot and the refugees surround the disaster relief office, the entire Jiangnan region will be in chaos.

"His Majesty is far away in the capital; would he dare allow Yuan Keli to kill all the people of Jiangnan?"

He took a step forward, leaned down to stare at his son, and spoke in a low, harsh voice:

"If the chaos is big enough, the autumn tax in Jiangnan will not be collected this year!"

The Imperial Textile Bureau couldn't deliver the raw silk, and the supply of cotton cloth to the capital was cut off. Even if His Majesty was tough, he had to give in!
What he wanted was stability and tax revenue in Jiangnan, not a mess left unattended!

His words contained the "experience" he had gained from decades of navigating the business world.

During the Wanli era, cloth merchants in Jiangnan united to refuse to pay the "new cloth tax," but the imperial censor sent by the court ultimately let the matter drop.

Afterwards, they deliberately delayed the grain ships, and the Nanjing Ministry of Revenue still had to secretly reduce their grain transport fees by 30%.

In his view, no matter how "talented and ambitious" the emperor was, he still couldn't do without the taxes from Jiangnan. As long as the "trouble" was stirred up, the court would eventually compromise.

Yan Junbin looked at the madness in his father's eyes and felt both unfamiliar and terrified.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something more, but was interrupted by Yan Kuan's cold gaze.

"I'm not here today to ask for your advice, but to ensure the Yan family line continues."

Yan Kuan's tone suddenly turned somber, losing its earlier madness and gaining a sense of solemnity as he prepared to make his final arrangements.

"Tomorrow morning, take 100,000 taels of silver notes and the three beautiful concubines from the manor with impeccable backgrounds to the estate outside Beijing."

That estate was bought ten years ago; nobody knew it belonged to the Yan family.

He paused, his gaze sweeping over his son's pale face, a rare hint of warmth appearing in his voice:

"If things succeed in Jiangnan, you will return to inherit the family business; if things fail..."

His Adam's apple bobbed, and he avoided his son's gaze, looking at the memorial tablet on the altar.

"You should change your name, use that 100,000 taels of silver to do some small business in the north, marry a beautiful woman, and quickly give birth to a bloodline for the Yan family."

Remember, no matter what, never go back to Jiangnan.

This was his "three burrows for a cunning rabbit" that he had prepared long ago.

The manor in Beijing, the hidden banknotes, the beautiful woman with a clean background, and even the plan to change the son's name had all been prepared in advance.

He said he had a "chance of winning," but in his heart he had already prepared for the worst.

Yan Junbin watched his father's retreating figure, and his eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

He suddenly raised his head, and with his last glimmer of hope, asked:

"Since Father also knows the risk of failure, why doesn't he simply submit to Minister Yuan?"

Let's earn less silver, cut off the smuggling routes to the Westerners, and make up for the taxes we owe...

At least it saves the Yan family's lives, isn't that good?

"good?"

Yan Kuan suddenly let out a cold laugh, his laughter full of sarcasm.

"Do you really think His Majesty can eradicate all the officials and gentry in Jiangnan?"

He reached out and pointed to the memorial tablet on the offering table.

"Our Yan family was able to reduce the 'cloth tax' from three cents per bolt to one cent thanks to the connections of these important figures, which allowed us to smuggle cotton cloth to Japan."

Even if Yuan Keli kills Zhou Qiyuan and Wang Yingjiao, new officials will come.

These people still want benefits; they still want the 'tribute' we give them.

He turned around, looked at the tightly closed wooden door of the ancestral hall, and calmly said:
"The gentry and merchants of Jiangnan are like tree roots, deeply embedded in the ground. Even if the branches above are cut off, the roots below remain."

Does His Majesty think he can change Jiangnan by killing a few people?

impossible!
But if I submit to Yuan Keli now, there will be no place for the Yan family in Jiangnan in the future.”

The ancestral hall fell completely silent, with only the hissing sound of incense burning out and the occasional clatter of looms coming from outside the window, which sounded particularly jarring.

Yan Junbin lowered his head, looking at the tea stains on the ground, feeling as if a huge rock was pressing on his heart.

He knew his father was telling the truth, but he couldn't accept this choice of "risking his life for profit."

Stop thinking about it.

Yan Kuan's voice returned to its usual stern tone.

"The butler will take you to the dock early tomorrow morning."

Remember, once you get to Beijing, you are not allowed to inquire about Jiangnan, and you are not allowed to mention to anyone that you are a member of the Yan family.

The family tragedy left Yan Junbin in a daze for a moment.

And
According to the Huangming Daily he read in Beijing, the secret police were incredibly powerful.

Even if he gets to Beijing, can he really hide his identity?
The Yan family of Huzhou is likely to perish in his hands.

PS:

A long chapter of 7200 words!
(End of this chapter)