Chapter 13: The Poor Child

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Jiang Zhu said, “A little donkey…”

Shen Qingyue interrupted him, “A donkey that can work.”

Jiang Zhu thought for a moment, “It should be around seven or eight taels, maybe more for a better one.”

Seven or eight taels, huh.

Shen Qingyue silently calculated, “How much money can you get for selling one basket?”

Jiang Zhu replied, “Fifteen wen.”

Shen Qingyue asked, “How many wen make up one tael?”

Jiang Zhu answered, “Eight hundred wen.”

So that means...

Shen Qingyue did the math quietly: to buy a donkey, you’d need to sell nearly four hundred bamboo baskets?!

At the current pace, he could weave two baskets a day, or three if he were more skilled. That means it would take over four months to make that many.

“…”

And that’s assuming Jiang Zhu pays for all his meals, clothes, and medical expenses.

He doesn’t even have to chop the bamboo or split the strips himself; Jiang Zhu helps with the finishing touches.

If he also had to give Jiang Zhu some living expenses, it would take him a year or two to save up.

On top of that, Jiang Zhu discouraged him, “Usually, you can’t get that much money. When buying things with money, they always haggle the price.”

Even though fifteen wen was already a discounted price, buyers would try to push it down to fourteen or thirteen wen. To sell for fifteen wen, he’d have to go to the market.

But when it came to buying livestock, people only wanted money.

Shen Qingyue didn’t understand, “Why? Is money scarce around here?”

Jiang Zhu nodded, “You have to save money to pay taxes and substitute labor fees.”

Shen Qingyue asked, “A lot?”

Jiang Zhu nodded without hesitation, “Mm.”

Shen Qingyue inquired, “How much do you have to pay?”

Jiang Zhu began explaining.

Listening to him count, Shen Qingyue somehow saw in young Jiang Zhu the familiar image of a grumbling old farmer complaining about bad weather and rising fertilizer prices.

After the meal, he roughly understood the categories and amounts of taxes they had to pay yearly.

Overall, they had to pay four types of fees.

The first was land tax, charged at a rate of one tael for every fifteen taels, collected per household.

Jiang Zhu’s family had no fields, so they didn’t pay this.

The second was the substitution labor fee, calculated per person.

Those aged fifteen to sixty were counted as adults; each man paid fifty wen per year, women forty wen, children and elderly half that, children under five and elders over seventy were exempt.

Jiang Zhu paid fifty wen.

Additionally, adult men had to perform military or miscellaneous duties. If they didn’t, they paid a substitute fee: one hundred wen per day. During peacetime, they did three days of military service annually; during war, the schedule was uncertain. Miscellaneous duties were also charged daily but at a lower rate, fifty wen per day, capped at three hundred wen, and usually they paid the maximum.

Jiang Zhu paid six hundred wen a year.

Military service required a fee, followed by recruitment. Miscellaneous duties could currently be chosen.

If they didn’t pay, they might be assigned to miscellaneous duties for seven or eight days, sometimes half a month or a month. Although the government provided meals after ten days and a daily subsidy of ten to twenty wen, it was still cheaper to pay the fee.

The third type was miscellaneous taxes, charged per household. Even though Jiang Zhu’s family was just himself, they were considered one household and had to pay.

This was the most complicated and chaotic category. Jiang Zhu himself didn’t fully understand what it covered. Essentially, whenever they were notified of an amount, they paid it. In recent years, it ranged from five hundred to six hundred wen annually.

Jiang Zhu was young and not deeply aware of miscellaneous taxes, but at the market, he overheard conversations saying their area had become the fiefdom of Prince Rong when he was about twelve or thirteen. A new group of officials replaced the old ones — from bad to good — and the miscellaneous taxes decreased.

However, in recent years, neighboring countries had been at war, and being close to the border, they had to train soldiers and prepare for war. The border situation tightened, and miscellaneous taxes rose again.

These three categories were the main taxes ordinary people had to pay. Jiang Zhu alone had to pay about one thousand one or two hundred wen.

If a family had more members, paying miscellaneous taxes per household was more economical, but paying substitution labor fees per person was higher. That’s why tax evasion was common in their area.

Especially in nearby towns close to the mountains, people would flee into the mountains to avoid taxes.

After becoming the prince’s fiefdom, tax and labor evasion were cracked down on more strictly.

Moreover, with the southern neighbor at war, refugees often came into their country. To guard against the war, they had to bear part of the border defense. Tax collection and inspections became stricter. Those caught were fined and sent to the front lines, so people gradually stopped evading taxes.

In general, their taxes were light but labor fees heavy. Ordinary families paid more per person than in land tax.

Jiang Zhu’s family had no fields and thus no land tax.

But they did have mountains.

Mountains, forests, ponds, and so on, though land, fell under the fourth category, like the first, charged per household, called property tax.

Different types of mountains paid different rates: tea mountains were the most expensive, orchards next. Jiang Zhu’s mountain was designated wasteland, so it was much cheaper.

Ordinary people’s vegetable gardens, mulberry trees, cattle, horses, mules, donkeys, even chickens, ducks, pigs, houses, carts, pots, pans, clothes, and savings were considered property, and these also required payment.

The number of people in the household was also included in this category; people were counted as property.

But these were too varied and hard to tally precisely. Officials estimated locally, assigning nine levels, each with corresponding grain and cloth payments, now convertible into money.

Jiang Zhu paid the most in this category.

Shen Qingyue’s parents made their fortune in the steel business, later investing in various sectors, well versed in taxes and policies. He, however, was a pure arts student with grades so artistic that from middle school onward, it was clear he wouldn’t inherit the family business. His father struggled but ultimately gave up trying to steer him, focusing instead on training his sister, letting him develop freely.

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So Shen Qingyue not only failed to outperform his parents academically or professionally but also had a decent grasp of economics—not completely clueless, but not expert either.

After listening for a while, he felt overwhelmed by the complexity and volume of information.

Patiently, he took notes in his sketchbook, trying to find ways to help Jiang Zhu save money or effort.

“So, what grade is your family, and how much do you pay?”

Jiang Zhu replied, “We’re a middle-middle household, paying rice, silk, or raw silk equivalent to twenty taels yearly. But middle-grade households must deliver grain to warehouses outside the county, paying additional fees for transportation and handling.”

“How much?” Shen Qingyue’s mind was still stuck on “twenty taels,” feeling dazed.

One basket sold for fifteen wen. Jiang Zhu had to chop the bamboo and split the strips himself and sell at the market. He could weave four or five baskets a day, so at five, that’s only...

He did the math on paper, converting to silver: twenty-seven thousand three hundred seventy-five wen, over thirty-four taels.

Subtracting daily living expenses and the previous three taxes...

“What do transportation and handling fees mean? How much do they cost?”

Jiang Zhu explained, “Our household is middle grade, so we have to transport tax grain and silk to designated warehouses in other counties. If we don’t deliver it ourselves, we hire agents called ‘handlers’ to do it. The fee to hire them is the handling fee. ‘Transportation loss’ covers grain loss during transport, and there’s also money paid to warehouse guards.”

Shen Qingyue was shocked. “Isn’t it all converted to money already? If you pay money, why pay for transporting grain again?”

Jiang Zhu said, “Money still has to be transported.”

Shen Qingyue was speechless.

He only had one thought left: electronic remittance is truly convenient!

Jiang Zhu scratched his head, “I don’t really understand either. Seems like even after paying, you still have to buy grain and deliver it to the warehouse.”

Shen Qingyue thought that was nonsense, “Why can’t they buy nearby? If the warehouse is there, buy grain there.”

Jiang Zhu was even more clueless; he thought for a moment, “Grain near the warehouse must be more expensive.” If everyone buys there, maybe the tax money wouldn’t even cover the grain.

Shen Qingyue was silent.

It seemed to make some sense.

Whatever, whether he understood or not, it wasn’t very useful.

He asked, “How much more do you have to pay?”

Jiang Zhu said, “It varies, about ten taels.”

Shen Qingyue exclaimed, “Ten taels?!”

Jiang Zhu said, “Ten taels.”

Shen Qingyue laughed, “You pay twenty taels in taxes and another ten taels for transportation and storage?”

Jiang Zhu nodded silently.

This business was too profitable. So profitable that even someone with no economics knowledge would want to do it.

Shen Qingyue asked, “Can anyone be a handler? Can you?”

Jiang Zhu shook his head, “The village head doesn’t allow people from our clan to be handlers. My dad and uncle said they managed to get by without doing it.”

Shen Qingyue asked, “Why?”

Jiang Zhu said, “They said there are too many bandits on the roads, too dangerous.”

Shen Qingyue was speechless.

That made sense.

Whether escorting grain or money, it was unsafe in unfamiliar places.

The Blue-Faced Beast even had his birthday tribute robbed.

High risk, high reward—there was logic behind it.

But altogether, that was thirty taels.

Add the previous three taxes, and Jiang Zhu was busy all year just paying taxes.

How many baskets must he weave? How many donkeys must he buy?

Soon Shen Qingyue realized, “Did you just start paying taxes in money?”

Jiang Zhu nodded, “Before, taxes were paid in grain and cloth, but later switched to money.”

He said if it had always been like this, the policy probably wouldn’t have lasted long.

Shen Qingyue understood.

There wasn’t much money circulating because villages were used to barter and didn’t save much cash. Also, the sudden requirement to pay taxes in money startled everyone—they saved rather than spent, regardless of wealth.

Shen Qingyue couldn’t help but ask, “Can you actually make that much money?”

Even if Jiang Zhu worked nonstop and business was good, there wasn’t that much money in the market. He could only exchange for essentials. Where would the money come from?

Unexpectedly, Jiang Zhu nodded, “My second uncle manages a tea plantation for Master Sun. Every year, my father and I deliver bamboo baskets and crates for picking tea. My uncle knows some papermaking workshops, which use a lot of bamboo, and we also sell some wood. These all pay in silver. Plus, selling bamboo baskets and mats, that’s enough to pay taxes, though after paying, little is left.”

Selling bamboo baskets was different. His second uncle had managed the tea plantation for many years and had good standing there, so payments were prompt and fair, no need for extra bribes.

Selling bamboo or wood to papermaking workshops was mainly costly in labor and transport. Although he could cut bamboo and trees himself, he had to hire carts for transport, so profits were slim, less than weaving baskets and mats. Still, the workshops paid cash, and thanks to his uncle’s connections, they didn’t cheat him.

Selling wood was troublesome. Ten times out of ten, one or two times would involve delayed or refused payment. Since his father passed away, some buyers bullied him as a child and delayed paying. Now he preferred selling firewood in autumn.

Listening to his rambling, Shen Qingyue suddenly realized Jiang Zhu was richer and more business-savvy than he thought.

He couldn’t help but ask, “When did you start living on your own?”

Jiang Zhu paused, “At sixteen.”

Shen Qingyue asked, “Counting by nominal age?”

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Jiang Zhu nodded.

That means he started carrying such a heavy tax burden at fourteen by Western reckoning.

They officially became adults at fifteen, but land and household taxes were not age-based.

More than thirty taels yearly. Shen Qingyue couldn’t imagine how he had endured for so many years.

He sighed, “If you were my dad’s son, he’d probably donate a whole temple?”

So capable.

Jiang Zhu’s pupils dilated in shock.

Sure enough, Shen Qingyue’s family was very wealthy!

In his impression, only families like his uncle’s could afford to donate temples.

But...

“Do gods have parents?”

Shen Qingyue was speechless.

“Do gods need temples?”

Shen Qingyue said, “...That’s a metaphor, a figure of speech to help you understand.”

“Oh!” Jiang Zhu suddenly understood but felt something was odd.

Shen Qingyue thought, impressive that he could even twist it back.

Still, influenced by his upbringing, Shen Qingyue quickly noticed flaws and problems in the tax system.

“Houses, vegetable gardens, livestock, carts, even pots, pans, and clothes are counted in the grading system, right?”

Jiang Zhu nodded.

“Who does the assessment? The county magistrate can’t possibly go house to house counting chickens, can he?”

“...”

“Besides you, maybe neighbors and relatives, but who else would know how many bowls or clothes you have? The assessor must be your village head, right?”

Jiang Zhu looked shocked, “Yes... but we have to report first, then the village head reports.”

Shen Qingyue laughed.

I told you! No matter how diligent the magistrate is, if the area is large, it’s impossible to inspect every detail.

This grading system is clearly impractical and overly detailed.

Since the village head has the rating authority, there’s room for manipulation.

Shen Qingyue started to suggest, “Couldn’t you bribe your village head to downgrade your rating?”

Jiang Zhu gave him a strange look.

Is that something a god would say?

He must not be a real god!

No wonder he was demoted.

Shen Qingyue asked, “You haven’t been cheated, right?”

Jiang Zhu shook his head with mixed feelings, “No.”

There was indeed a lot of room for manipulation in this tax.

If the village was united and the village head a clan member, payments were lower. If not, or if the head was greedy, more was collected.

He heard some village heads used tricks to extort more money, and some even colluded with county officials to cheat. They would tell farmers they were rated high but report a lower grade to the county, pocketing the difference.

But their village head wasn’t like that.

“Our village head is our clan leader, a good and fair man who never overcharges. Also...” Jiang Zhu was a bit embarrassed, “My uncle already arranged for our mountain to be classified as wasteland. But our mountain is really big, and our house too...”

Shen Qingyue understood.

Their mountain was obviously not wasteland; the bamboo forest should be considered an economic forest.

He had been foolish; they were not naive at all.

They had already pulled the right strings.

So paying thirty taels was actually on the low side!

Still, Shen Qingyue felt something was off. A fleeting thought hit him.

“Wait, your mountain is big? Isn’t it bamboo forest? The mountain is yours?”

Jiang Zhu nodded.

Shen Qingyue exclaimed, “...?!”

No wonder every household pays like this—how could they not rebel?

In the midst of gossip, he suddenly sat up, realizing the fool was himself.

His vision was too narrow; he failed to recognize a great figure.

He had thought Jiang Zhu was a poor kid.

But Jiang Zhu’s family had been striving for three generations and didn’t even have a mountain!

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