The Great Ming in the Box

Chapter 421: What to Do When There’s No Work Left

The porters promptly resumed chiseling holes into the stockade wall, happily busy.

With the stockade nearing completion, the common citizens who had come from Pujiao Temple were growing increasingly anxious.

What if there was no work left once the construction was done?

If the salt smuggler boss declared, “Alright, you can all leave now,” how would they live after that?

A palpable sense of unease began drifting through the section housing the regular folk. A large crowd swarmed around Master Zhan Sheng, lowering their voices to express their worries.

Master Zhan Sheng nodded. “Understood. This humble monk will go ask Boss Xing.”

He left the civilians’ area and headed for the infantry camp.

As he passed through the gate separating the two sections, a guard unit blocked his path. “Your Token!”

Master Zhan Sheng replied, “The Tokens haven’t been completed yet, have they?”

The soldiers looked slightly embarrassed. “That is true.”Master Zhan Sheng said, “This poor monk has something important to discuss with Boss Xing.”

Knowing this monk spoke for the civilians, the soldiers passed on the message. Shortly after, a soldier returned. “Master Zhan Sheng, you may proceed.”

Master Zhan Sheng nodded, thinking to himself: These people call themselves salt smugglers, yet their actions are remarkably disciplined, even surpassing officers and soldiers in military regulation. If they were merely salt smugglers, he’d dig out his eyes for dogs to eat.

Guided by the soldier, he arrived at the “conference hall” of the infantry camp. This so-called hall was merely a large wooden cabin hastily constructed with timber. Xing Honglang, the nominal leader of this force, discussed matters here with her subordinates.

In reality, the true commander was Gao Chuwu. Though he only ever nodded and said, “Okay, let’s do that,” nothing happened without his approval.

Approaching the hall entrance, Master Zhan Sheng saw Xing Honglang carving a piece of wood into a palm-sized plaque. She’d sculpted the characters “Chuwu” on it, turning it this way and that. Utterly delighted, she pressed it against her face…

Master Zhan Sheng coughed. “Ahem! Boss Xing.”

“Ah!” Xing Honglang leaped up in fright. “Just now… that… I just liked this wood, so I couldn’t help but rub it! I wasn’t rubbing those characters!”

Master Zhan Sheng chanted, “Amitabha! Kindly manage the situation! This poor monk saw nothing.”

Xing Honglang relaxed. “That’s better. What brings you here?”

Master Zhan Sheng explained the civilians’ worries, lowering his voice. “Everyone is very afraid there will be no more work and no more meals. As you know, outside there’s a great drought, military chaos, bandits scattering everywhere – natural calamities and human troubles piled high. Life is incredibly hard for the commoners. They were used to hardship before, but here, working just a few days, getting fed and three jin of flour daily… this good life lasted mere days, and now it’s ending. Their hearts are deeply unsettled.”

Xing Honglang laughed. “Oh, that! Tell them not to worry. The work will never run out.”

Master Zhan Sheng: “Hmm?”

Xing Honglang explained, “Now that the stockade is built, our foothold secured, of course we aim for a better life. The next step is to build all the things needed in their living area: blacksmiths, carpentry workshops, mills… basically turn it into a proper port town like any other. Set up everything essential, get everything functioning.”

Hearing this, Master Zhan Sheng thought privately: Are they transforming the ancient ferry dock into a handicraft town? Such ambition! This is even less like salt smuggler behavior. If you said you were a local official, it would feel much more believable.

Xing Honglang continued, “Go tell them they can build here like it’s their own home. Houses, workshops, businesses – build freely. Workers’ pay remains three jin of flour per day.”

“But they can’t just build randomly!” Master Zhan Sheng replied, finding it both amusing and concerning. “If two residents build houses connected, they’ll fight over ownership!”

Xing Honglang pondered carefully. It was a valid point. Town construction needed planning; leaving it to villagers meant houses crammed together, leaving no alley to squeeze through…

Trouble!

She knew nothing of planning and construction. Zao Ying surely didn’t either. Gao Chuwu? Forget it. Old Nan Feng? Probably no better. Everyone who came to Shanxi this time was a martial figure – no civil administrators!

Xing Honglang felt slightly awkward. “Master Zhan Sheng, initiating this, I might get overwhelmed. Looks like I need a scholar to help. You know any literate men who can plan and manage town development? Preferably one who’s served as an advisor?”

Master Zhan Sheng sighed inwardly. “What scholar would work for salt smugglers?”

Xing Honglang conceded, “True enough. Fine, I’ll find someone. Don’t worry about it for now. Tell the civilians to rest easy. More work is coming. If there’s a brief pause, I’ll still feed them. Oh, tell the merchants among the civilians to come see me.”

The ancient ferry dock had always gathered merchants. Many small merchants operated here, mostly selling smuggled salt, along with all sorts of chaotic equipment.

Xing Honglang handed the carved Token to Master Zhan Sheng. “Give this to the merchants. With this, they can enter the main camp to discuss matters without needing permission.”

Master Zhan Sheng took the plaque and examined it subtly. “This is Boss Xing’s Token?”

Xing Honglang: “Yes? Why?”

Master Zhan Sheng: “If it’s yours, shouldn’t it bear the word ‘wolf’? Why ‘Chuwu’?”

Xing Honglang: “…”

After a few seconds, her face flushed crimson. Should she kill this monk to silence him? Then it hit her: I’m already married to Chuwu! What embarrassment? She calmed down. “I’m a traditional woman. Obedient to my husband after marriage. Hence, my husband is the true Boss. Engraving his name, what’s the problem?”

Master Zhan Sheng thought, laughing silently: She persisted, didn’t she? Haha!

He pressed his palms together. “Amitabha! Then this humble monk shall take his leave.”

Once Master Zhan Sheng was gone, Xing Honglang beckoned the gate guards over. Pulling an identical Token from her pocket, she whispered, “See this deliberately nicked corner? Inside, look close, two crooked knife marks… Genuine Tokens I carve all carry this nick and these two marks.”

The guards looked utterly confused. “Madam Xing… what’s this all for?”