22

With Money, a Commoner Gains an Official Post

Out of Luck, a Prefect Becomes a Boatman

AS the poem says,

Life’s ups and downs are only to be expected.

Why hoist the sails fully when the wind is against you?

The vagaries of fate can happen in one day;

Reversals of fortune may occur in a trice.

Our story begins with the observation that the wealth and glamour that the human world has to offer may not be for real and should not be taken as such. Nowadays, those who have risen to prominence fool themselves into thinking that their power will last for ten thousand years, and people watching them from the sidelines subscribe to the same notion. As it turns out, what they have gained may go up in smoke in the twinkling of an eye. It does not take much for the great Mount Tai to change into an iceberg that can melt. As the proverb rightly says, “It’s far better to build from nothing than to lose what you already have.” A poor man who strikes it rich savors the sweetness that began where bitterness ended with greater relish. But the rich and the eminent, once out of power and reduced to poverty, will find life nothing but a sea of misery, and their hangers-on disperse, bearing out another proverb, “When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter.” And yet, the rich and the eminent tend to think only of the present as they harden their hearts against the dictates of their consciences and wallow in vice with abandon. What do they care about how it will all end?

There is a joke about an old man with three sons. On his deathbed, he said to them, “Tell me honestly all your wishes. After I die, I’ll ask the Lord on High to grant them.”

One of the sons said, “I wish I’d be made a top-grade official.”

Another son said, “I wish I could have ten thousand acres of land.”

The last one said, “I wish I could exchange my eyes for a pair of bigger ones.” (MC: The wish of a sober-minded man.)

The old man asked in astonishment, “Why would you want that?”

“I want to open my eyes wide and observe how they acquire wealth and power.”

This may be just a joke, but it chimes with these lines by the ancients:

With a scornful eye, I watch the crabs run wild.

For how much longer is the insolence to last?

Be all that as it may, with the exception of those put to death by the imperial court or brought to ruin by unworthy offspring, there are few who fall from dizzying heights of wealth and status to dire straits and make themselves figures of fun by bringing earthly punishment upon themselves in one single lifetime. Gentle reader, this leads me to my prologue story today, one about such a figure of fun.

When Emperor Xizong [r. 873–88] of the Tang dynasty ascended the throne and changed the reign title to Qianfu [874–79], the eunuchs dominated the court. Among them was a Tian Lingzi, who had started out as a minor officer of the royal horse stable. He had won the good graces of the emperor when the latter was still the Prince of Pu. Upon assumption of the throne, the new emperor assigned him to the military council and promoted him to commander of the imperial guards. At age fourteen, the emperor spent all his time on games and frivolity and entrusted all the affairs of the empire to Tian Lingzi, whom he called “Daddy.” Thus it was that Lingzi had control over appointments and dismissals of officials without having to report to the emperor. (MC: A daddy doesn’t have to report to his son, of course.)

There was in the capital a rogue by the name of Li Guang, who did little but play up to Lingzi and cultivate his favor. Lingzi took a great liking to him and placed full trust in him, so much so that he made him vice military commander. One day, he further promoted the man to commander of the northern region. As it turned out, however, that Li Guang was just not meant for such great fortune. On the very day the imperial decree on his appointment was announced, he died from a sudden severe illness, leaving behind a son, Dequan, who was in his twenties at the time.

Feeling sorry for the young man, Lingzi wanted to do something for him and, caring nothing about his qualifications, appointed him to an important post. When Huang Chao conquered Chang’an, the capital, in the first year of the Zhonghe reign period [881–84], Chen Jingxuan dispatched troops from Chengdu to bring Emperor Xizong out of the capital.1 Lingzi advised the emperor to accept the offer and go to Sichuan in his company, and Lingzi took Li Dequan along. During the emperor’s residence in Chengdu, Tian Lingzi and Chen Jingxuan, in collusion with each other, usurped power and struck fear in everyone’s heart. Li Dequan, in the meantime, danced attendance on the two of them. Those scheming overlords, bent on seeking fame and gain, bribed Dequan richly so as to win favors from both his bosses. Within a few years, Dequan had received bribes totaling tens of millions of taels of silver and rose in rank until he became Grand Master of the Palace with Golden Seal and Purple Ribbon and, later, vice director of the Imperial Secretariat. (MC: No minor posts!) For a time, he was all-powerful.

Later, upon Emperor Xizong’s death, Emperor Zhaozong [r. 889–904] succeeded to the throne. In the fourth month of the second year of the Dashun reign period [890–92], Wang Jian [847–918], regional commander of Western Sichuan, repeatedly asked to have Lingzi and Jingxuan put to death, but the imperial court did not approve the request out of fear of the two men. Thereupon, Wang Jian gave orders that Chen Jingxuan be accused of rebellion and Lingzi of collusion with the rebellious regional commander of Fengxiang. Without waiting for approval from the imperial court, he had the two men executed. (MC: Tyrannical, but how gratifying!) His draft memorial to the emperor said, “When the tiger escaped from its cage, Confucius did not hold others to blame. And Sun Shu’ao acted beyond self-interest when killing the two-headed snake on the road.2 I had the criminals executed outside the city gates because the most opportune moment may easily be lost if the execution is reported to the imperial court in advance.”

While the police were hot on the trail of the two men’s cohorts, Dequan made his escape to Fuzhou [in present-day Hubei]. For all the prodigious wealth in his possession, he was not able to take even one tiny piece of silver with him but had to take flight empty-handed. (MC: Much good his moneygrubbing does him!) After several days on the road, his clothes had mostly gone to pay for his meals, and all along the way he begged for food with nothing but unlined rags on his back. How sad that all the glory and splendor he had enjoyed had vanished into thin air.

However, Heaven always leaves a door open. In Fuzhou, there lived a groom by the name of Li An, who had been acquainted with Li Guang before the latter’s rise to prominence. It so happened that when walking down the street one day, Li An saw a man in tatters begging for food. Upon a closer look, he recognized the beggar to be Li Guang’s son, Li Dequan. Saddened, he invited Dequan to his home. Once there, he said, “I heard that you and your father had enjoyed great wealth and power in Chang’an before going into decline. But what reduced you to this?”

Thereupon, Dequan told him about the police hunt for cohorts of Tian Lingzi and Chen Jingxuan and his desperate escape, which had led to his current sorry condition.

“I was a friend of your father’s,” said Li An. “Why don’t you stay here with me for a while? If you don’t want to be found out, you can give yourself another name and say that you’re a nephew of mine. That way, nothing can happen to you.”

Heeding his advice, Dequan changed his name to Yansi, acknowledged the groom as his uncle, and stopped begging on the streets. In less than half a year, Li An was stricken by a fatal illness. Coveting the groom’s job with its government salary, Yansi asked Li An to draft a letter of application that said, “As I lie succumbing to illness, I humbly request that my nephew Yansi inherit my post as groom for the royal stable.” (MC: To start a new life.) A few days later, Li An took his last breath, and Yansi inherited his position as groom. Without having to worry about his food and clothing anymore, he counted himself a lucky man. But gradually, word got out that he had once held the title Vice Director of the Imperial Secretariat. The imperial court being at sixes and sevens at that time, with no law and order to speak of, no one bothered to check his background, but he was given a nickname: Vice Director Li the Groom. Whenever he showed himself in public, people pointed their fingers at him and made him a figure of fun.

Gentle reader, won’t you agree that “Vice Director of the Imperial Secretariat” is an awe-inspiring official title and a groom in the royal stable is the lowliest of the low government jobs? Isn’t it laughable for a vice director of the Imperial Secretariat to end up as a groom? But again, those who attach themselves to eunuchs are in fact clinging to nothing but icebergs that can melt. There’s nothing surprising about a bigwig losing his power and dying in destitution. (MC: There is no lack of such cases. Why don’t people listen?) But to be able to survive and spend the remainder of one’s life taking care of horses is actually not that bad a deal. No eyebrows need be raised.

Now I propose to tell my next story. It is about another official of those times. He may have landed his official post by devious means plus a stroke of luck, but at least he made the effort. However, fate was against him. His was a post that did not yield him any wealth. He did not run afoul of any enemy, nor did he do anything wrong. It was all a matter of fate. His ignominious end made him more of a figure of fun than Li Dequan of the above story. As the poem says,

Wealth, rank, glory, and splendor—they all mean nothing;

The affairs of this world are all like clouds floating.

Puppets on the stage, do not take fright!

To boatman Mr. Guo, please turn your eyes.

This story takes place during the reign of Emperor Xizong of the Tang dynasty. In Jiangling [present-day Jingzhou, Hubei] lived a man named Guo Qilang. His father had been a rich merchant in the shipping business, and Qilang had traveled frequently with his father. After his father’s death, he took over the business, and it was a huge business concern with assets worth hundreds of millions, landed estates stretching farther than the range of a crow’s flight, and hills of gold and silver that even robbers despaired of ever being able to remove. He was indeed the richest of the rich in the region. Brokers working the rivers borrowed substantial sums of capital from him. Now, all wealthy men have one common trick up their sleeves: They give short weight and short measure, all in favor of themselves and at the expense of their customers. (MC: A common characteristic of the rich.) Brokers depending on him for their capital got the short end of the deal, to a man, but they all swallowed their resentment and continued to do business with him. You may ask why. Well, it was because he provided the capital. The brokers who did the hard work had to depend on capital to run their businesses and make a profit; however, he played them false when it came to the account books. If they got on the wrong side of him and he withdrew his capital as a result, they would all be out of a job. Therefore, however unfair the business practice, the rich get away with it. Their capital grows ever larger, and the rich get ever richer.

At that time, there was a big merchant who had borrowed tens of thousands of taels of silver from Guo Qilang to do business in the capital, but Guo Qilang did not hear from him for years on end after his departure. In the first year of the Qianfu reign period [874], Guo Qilang remembered that sum of money. Although he did not think such a big merchant would renege on the debt, he did wish he could send someone to the capital to demand repayment of the loan. Then again, he thought, “They say the capital is a glamorous city full of fun. I should take this opportunity and go on a tour, partly to get the money back, partly to amuse myself, and partly to see if there’s any chance I can land a government post so that I’ll be able to take it easy the rest of my life.” (MC: But isn’t he rich enough? Why ask for more? It’s higher status he is after.)

Guo Qilang lived with his mother, a younger brother, and a younger sister. He had numerous maidservants but no wife yet. So he instructed his brother and sister to take care of their mother, entrusted household affairs to his majordomo, and ordered all others to go on with their own business. He himself picked several servants who were experienced travelers and good at getting things done and went with them to the capital. Having grown up by the river and associated with brokers in their boats, Qilang was quite skilled at punting and sculling (MC: Now, these are real skills.) and thought nothing of the hardships of the journey. In a matter of days, they arrived at the capital.

The merchant Qilang had come to see was Zhang Quan, nickname Moneybags Zhang. He owned several pawnshops and silk shops in the city and specialized in loans for large government transactions. He also served as an intermediary in matters related to the buying and selling of government posts and titles. A word from him sufficed to close a deal. He was also given the nickname Zhang the Guarantor because of his dependability in ensuring the success of his deals. As Zhang Quan was known throughout the capital, Guo Qilang easily found his way to the Zhang residence without having to ask twice for the address. At the sight of Qilang, the big creditor whose loan in the amount of tens of thousands of taels of silver had laid the foundation for his now booming business when he first started out in the capital, Zhang Quan joyfully greeted him and, after an initial exchange of amenities, set out a wine feast. In the meantime, he had a few of the more celebrated courtesans brought in sedan-chairs to his house. In the company of the courtesans, host and guests enjoyed themselves to the full. After the feast was over, the best of the courtesans, a Wang Sai’er, was told to stay the night and keep Qilang company in the study. I need hardly describe the exquisite furnishings of the accommodations that one rich man prepared for another.

After getting up the next morning, Zhang the Guarantor presented Qilang with about a hundred thousand taels of silver without even waiting for the latter to broach the subject. This included the original loan plus what he had calculated to be the interest. As he presented the silver to Qilang, he said, “I’ve been too busy to get away from the capital. What’s more, with so much silver to carry, the going would be too difficult, and I can’t very well entrust the job to just anyone. That’s why I’ve been dragging my feet these past few years. Now that you’ve come in person, I can settle the account. So this works out perfectly for both of us.”

Delighted that the man was so straightforward, Qilang said, “Having just arrived in the capital, I don’t yet have lodgings of my own. I’m very grateful to you for paying back the loan plus interest, but since I don’t have a place to stay, could you find one for me?”

“But I have plenty of unoccupied rooms. I regularly put other guests up in them, so how could I let a close friend like you stay somewhere else? Just stay in my house. Before you leave, I’ll make all the necessary preparations for your departure. You need not worry.”

Overjoyed, Qilang took a large apartment adjacent to the Zhang residence. That very day, he gave Wang Sai’er ten taels of silver as payment for her services the previous day. That evening, Qilang had a feast laid out, returning the courtesy, and again asked for Wang Sai’er’s presence at the table. Zhang the Guarantor did not want to put Qilang to more expense, so he paid Wang Sai’er ten taels of silver and told her to return to Qilang what the latter had paid her, but Qilang stoutly declined the offer. The demurrals went back and forth, with both sides refusing to give ground. Wang Sai’er was the one who stood to gain. Only when she tucked away both payments were the two men satisfied.

That night, host and guest played drinking games with Wang Sai’er as they wined and dined together. As a greater familiarity grew between them during the merrymaking, they got roaring drunk before they parted company. With designs on Qilang’s deep pockets, Wang Sai’er, a first-class courtesan registered with the Music Bureau, put her skills in seduction to full use. Having spent two nights under her spell, Qilang found himself unable to budge an inch from her side whether walking or sitting. Since he refused to let her return to her own quarters, Sai’er invited other courtesans over to play Qilang’s drinking companions and provide amusement. Qilang’s rewards for them were more than generous. The procuress also came up with various excuses to use Qilang’s money, such as birthday celebrations, shopping trips, and loan repayments. Qilang spent money like water and never begrudged a penny. Such being his profligate ways, those who made a living out of sponging off the rich gravitated toward him and urged him to pick up more women. Generally speaking, spendthrifts flush with cash are a fickle lot. Like weeds that take root wherever they touch the soil, they warm up to every woman they see. In addition to Wang Sai’er, he also took up with Chen Jiao, Li Yu, Zhang Xiaoxiao, and Zheng Pianpian and spent extravagantly on each one of them, as much money as on Wang Sai’er. Those hangers-on also brought to him quite a few scions of the nobility who were prone to gambling. They laid traps for him so that he lost more often than he won at the gambling games, thus cheating him out of goodness knows how much money.

However, in spite of his overindulgence in sex and high living, Qilang was, after all, head of his own household and manager of a business, keen on making money. He was spending freely because his business was turning a good profit, but after more than three years went by in like manner, a realization of his excesses began to dawn on him. He went over his account books to see how much he had left for the future and found that he had squandered more than half his fortune. Suddenly seized with a longing for his family, he wanted to return home. (MC: At least he awakes to the truth quickly. Little does he know that Heaven is punishing him. If he had known what was to come, he could have enjoyed himself more at this point.)

When he consulted Zhang the Guarantor, the latter said, “With Wang Xianzhi of Puzhou [in present-day Shandong] in rebellion, the roads are impassable because of all the looting and robbery. Where can you go with all your silver? I’m afraid you won’t be able to make it home. You’d better stay here for a while longer and start on your way after things quiet down and it’s safe to travel again. You’ll still make good time.” In resignation, Qilang stayed for a few more days.

One fine day, one of the hangers-on, a certain Bao Da, nickname Bao the Swindler, claimed that because the imperial court had need of funds in the current military emergency, anyone who made a monetary contribution would be rewarded with a government post, at a level commensurate with the amount of the contribution. His greed stirring, Guo Qilang asked, “If I contribute several million, what post will I get?”

Bao Da replied, “With the imperial court as idiotic as it is, if you pay through the regular channels, you’ll be able to land only a low-ranking post, but if you bribe the official in charge of appointments with your millions, you should be able to secure a post as a prefect.” (MC: So, it was already like this in the Tang dynasty.)

With a start, Qilang asked, “Can a post as important as that be bought with money?”

“Such are the ways of the world now!” said Bao Da. “What justice is there to speak of ? Money gets you everything. Haven’t you heard that Cui Lie [of the Eastern Han dynasty] got his post as the minister of education by paying fifty million? Now, the title of general costs only what you pay for a few drinks. It doesn’t take much to be a prefect. As long as the connections are right, I’ll make sure that you get the appointment.”

At this point, Zhang the Guarantor came out. Exultantly, Qilang repeated Bao Da’s words to him.

“Yes, this can be done,” said Zhang the Guarantor. “I’ve pulled off a number of such deals, but I don’t advise you to do this.” (MC: He has foresight.)

“Why?” asked Qilang.

“It’s by no means easy to hold office in this day and age. Those with high ranks have solid bases with their own henchmen. Their kith and kin are in powerful positions at the imperial court, and their cohorts are deployed all over the land. Only when they have grown such deep roots can they enrich themselves and rise through the ranks. You may exploit the little people and shamelessly embezzle and steal, but as long as you grease the right palms and have the right connections, you won’t be censured, not even in ten thousand years. (MC: How can one not lament the depravity of the times!) For someone like you, with no academic honors, even if you land a high-ranking post, you have no network of connections. Once at your duty station, you may not be able to hold your own. Even if you do, court officials who are now bent on hitting people up for money will find out that you got your post through bribery, and once they do, they’ll be coming down hard on you about one or two months into your term of office, when things have become clearer. When you’re suddenly dismissed from office, won’t you have spent all your money for nothing? If it’s easy to hold on to an official post, I’d have got one for myself long ago.” (MC: Words of the older and wiser.)

“That’s not the way to look at it,” objected Qilang. “Money I do have, aplenty, but of government posts I have none. Since I have so much money on me but can’t carry it home with me, why shouldn’t I spend it here and now? If I can put on the golden belt and purple robe of an official, my life will be worthwhile. I don’t mind if I don’t get any money out of it. And if I don’t succeed at the job, I’ll at least have occupied an official post, such as it is, and the glory will have been mine to enjoy, however briefly. (MC: If his family fortune had not been diminished, this might not have been a bad idea.) I’ve made up my mind. Please don’t be such a spoilsport.”

Zhang the Guarantor said, “Since you’ve made up your mind, I’ll surely offer you my services.” Right away, he consulted with Bao Da and Zhang the Guarantor on the details of his bribery plan. Bao Da being a master of his trade and Zhang the Guarantor being a weighty personality who was regularly involved in big undertakings, was there anything they could not accomplish between them?

A word of explanation is due at this point: During the Tang dynasty, copper cash was the currency in common use, and a thousand copper cash coins made up one string. In transactions, silver also had to be converted to the value of copper cash. One string of copper cash, a min, equals one tael of silver in our day. Later, in the Song dynasty, a min came to be called a guan. Zhang the Guarantor and Bao Da spirited five thousand strings into the home of the director of the Office of Appointments. That director, a virtual keeper of eunuch Tian Lingzi’s money vault, never failed to grant whatever was requested. As they say, no coincidence, no story. It just so happened that at this point, a Guo Han, prefect of Hengzhou in Western Yue, died of illness right after his promotion while his certificate of appointment was still at the Ministry of Personnel. Thanks to Guo Qilang’s five thousand strings of copper cash, the director altered the information about the dead man’s place of birth and gave the certificate of appointment to Guo Qilang. (MC: What a fine director!) From that day onward, Guo Qilang became Guo Han.

Equipped with the certificate appointing Guo Han prefect of Hengzhou, Zhang the Guarantor and Bao Da jubilantly went to offer congratulations to Qilang. As Qilang went light in the head, weak in the knees, and numb in the body, Bao Da struck off to summon a theatrical troupe, while Zhang the Guarantor started preparations for a banquet. That very day, Guo Qilang put on the hat and waistband that came with his appointment. On learning that Qilang was now a prefect, the hangers-on flocked to his door to offer their congratulations and join in the merrymaking. Amid loud music struck up by the band, they spent the rest of the day drinking.

Let me quote another saying, “Flies are attracted to filth, ants to the smell of mutton, and pigeons to where the crowds are.” With Qilang’s reputation in the capital as a big spender, any number of men offered to enter the service of the new prefect. As happens all too frequently, even if officials do not throw their weight around, their lackeys do, making travel arrangements, bullying minor officials at the courier stations, and riding roughshod over merchants and villagers.

Feeling as if he were on cloud nine, Guo Qilang was seized by a longing to return to his hometown to parade his glory and chose an auspicious day for his journey. Again, Zhang the Guarantor laid out a banquet, this time to send him off. All the hangers-on and courtesans who had consorted with him came to bid him farewell. By this time, Qilang had already assumed a high-and-mighty air. He gave each of them a tip, but in an arrogant and supercilious manner. Awed by his status as a prefect, those people fawned on him with obsequious smiles and put up with his rudeness, taking every glance out of the corner of his eye and every little remark from his worthy lips as a sign of goodwill. (MC: Such are the ways of the world.)

After the hustle and bustle, which lasted for a few days, Guo Qilang was all packed and ready to set out with his nice procession, and an impressive sight it was. Along the way, he thought, “I’m already rich enough. And now, as head of a large prefecture, I’ll be able to enjoy wealth and power to the end of my days!” (MC: A small man intoxicated with his success.) In his exuberance, he unconsciously flaunted his wealth and power at every turn. The servants who had followed him to the capital kept boasting about the family’s wealth to those who had just entered his service, and the new ones, delighted that they had a good master, did the best they could to inspire awe, but so much for them.

Traveling on horseback when there was no boat to be had and by water when no land routes were available, Guo Qilang and his procession arrived in Jiangling, but Qilang was appalled by what he saw. Behold:

There are few signs of human habitation;

The alleys and wells are deserted.

The houses are in decay, the walls in ruins;

The bridges are broken, the trees withered.

The wooden beams are charred by acts of arson;

The stains on white walls are blood from acts of murder.

Crows and ants fight over unclaimed corpses;

Hawks and wolves prey on unprotected fowl and dogs.

A statue of stone would melt down in tears;

A man of iron would be torn with grief.

What had happened was that the area where the Zhu Palace [in present-day Jingzhou, Hubei] of Jiangling used to be had been devastated during Wang Xianzhi’s rebellion. Few local inhabitants remained. Were it not for his familiarity with the waterways, Qilang would not have been able to find his way there. This desolate scene set his heart pounding violently. As his boat approached his own house along the bank, he raised his eyes and gave a cry of anguish. His grand mansion had been reduced to rubble. Not one room remained. His mother, his younger brother and sister, and the servants were nowhere in sight. Horrified, he sent out search parties for them.

After three or four days of searching, he ran into an old neighbor and learned, upon detailed inquiry, that the rebel troops had wreaked havoc in the region. His younger brother had been killed and his younger sister had been kidnapped, her fate unknown. His mother and two maids, the only ones left, had found shelter in two thatched huts next to an ancient temple. All the other servants had fled, and the family fortune had vanished. His mother and the two maids had to do sewing for a living. Devoured by grief on hearing this, Qilang immediately led his servants and raced to his mother’s quarters. As mother and son fell tearfully into each other’s arms, the mother said, “I never expected to be hit by such a disaster after you left. I’ve lost both your brother and sister, and we can hardly make a living.”

After he had his cry, Qilang wiped his eyes dry and said, “Things having come to this, grief doesn’t get us anywhere. Luckily, your son is now an official, with riches and luxury to enjoy in the future. (MC: Not necessarily.) Please set your mind at ease, Mother.”

“What post did you get, my son?”

“It’s not a minor one: Prefect of Hengzhou.”

“How did you manage to land such an important post?”

“With eunuchs in power nowadays, bribery is rampant, and official posts are to be had for the taking. I went to ask Mr. Zhang for repayment of a loan, and he paid me back both the loan and the interest. With so much money on me, I paid millions for this post. Now that I’ve returned home in glory to see you, I must go to my duty station soon to take up my post.” Having said this, Qilang told his servants to bring him his hat and waistband. After putting them on, he offered his mother a seat and bowed four times to her. (MC: He is getting carried away.) Then he told all his servants, old and new, to kowtow to his mother and address her as “Your Ladyship.”

Although somewhat pleased, his mother said with a sigh, “You were living high on the hog in the capital, not knowing that our servants had all gone and not a penny was left. You could have brought some of your money home rather than spending it all on an official post.” (MC: His mother remains a pauper at heart. She is simply not meant for great fortune.)

“Mother, that’s woman talk! How could an official be short of money? Which official doesn’t have millions? When they retire and go back to their hometowns, they take everything with them, even the ground their houses are built on! I may not have anything at the moment, but after I take up my post, I’ll build from scratch, and in a couple of years, I’ll be on my feet again! Nothing easier! I still have two to three thousand strings of cash in my baggage, quite enough for now. Don’t you worry, Mother!”

Only then did his mother’s grief turn to joy. Breaking into a smile, she said, “Luckily, my son is a capable man with great prospects. Heaven and earth be praised! If you hadn’t returned, I would have given up the ghost. Now, when are you planning to leave?”

“I had planned on getting myself a good wife after returning home, with whom to share my wealth and distinction. But as things stand now, this will be quite impossible. I’ll think about this after I take up my post. Mother, you board the boat first and make yourself comfortable. Since there’s nothing here to tie us down, let’s change to a large boat tomorrow and take it as a lucky day for us to be on our way. The earlier I arrive at my duty station, the better, even if only by one day.”

That very evening, he put his mother up in his boat, leaving the chipped and cracked pots, stove, bowls, and jars in the huts. He then ordered a servant to engage a government boat going in the direction of faraway Western Yue. The next day, after all the luggage had been carried on board, he left his cabin, offered a prayer service to the gods, and set sail amid the sounds of wind and percussion music. At this point, both mother and son were in high spirits. It was not surprising for Qilang to be so euphoric, even though he had to restrain himself in his mother’s presence, because he had not gone through any hardships, and he was excited about traveling home. But it was strange for the old lady, after having suffered such misery, to be so carried away, as if she had grown in stature as she rose from under the ground into the sky.

After passing Changsha, they traveled down the Xiang River and stopped over at Yongzhou [in present-day southern Hunan.] On the northern bank of the river stood a Buddhist temple called the Tusita Monastery. The boatmen moored the boat in preparation for staying the night there. Seeing a tree so large that it would take several men to join hands around it, they tied the boat’s rope to it, made a tight knot, and drove a post into the ground. Qilang followed his mother into the temple to offer prayers, with servants following behind holding an official parasol. The monks, realizing that the man was an official, went out to greet him and serve him tea. When asked about his rank, Qilang’s servants said, “He’s the incumbent prefect of Hengzhou, Western Yue.”

On hearing that he was an incumbent official, the monks displayed even greater deference and showed him and his mother around the temple. The old lady kowtowed to every image of the Buddha she saw, offering thanks for the Buddha’s blessings. (MC: She should have known that flattering Buddha would not help.) Late in the afternoon, they all returned to their boat to rest.

At dusk, there came into their hearing the sound of the wind rustling the tree branches. In a trice, the sky darkened, and a windstorm came on. Behold:

The gods of wind unleash their power;

Ten thousand horses gallop through the air and the trees.

The surging waves boom like war drums;

The dikes burst, with sounds like thunder.

The tigers in the mountains are roaring,

To the alarm of old dragons on the riverbed.

Boats may very well be tied to large trees,

But trees can be felled by strong winds.

The screeches of the wind alarmed everyone. The helmsman thought, “It may be a strong wind, but, luckily, the boat is secured to a giant tree with deep roots. Nothing can go wrong.”

While everyone was asleep, an earthshaking sound shook them awake. Here’s what happened: The spreading roots of that ancient tree had loosened the embankment. With the raging waves of the Xiang River breaking against it day and night, the embankment gave way. Tall trees catch the wind, and that tree also had a heavily laden boat tied to it. With the wind pounding the boat and the boat straining against the tree, the wind-battered tree could not stand its ground any longer. Its roots lost their grip on the rocks, and, with a crash, the tree fell onto the boat and smashed it into pieces. The boat being lighter than the tree, there was no way it could bear such weight. As water poured in, the boat sank, leaving only pieces of it floating on the surface of the water. All the maidservants drowned in their sleep. It all happened in less time than it takes to relate.

In consternation, the helmsman shouted for help. Guo Qilang awoke from his dream with a start. Being something of a sailor from childhood (MC: This goes to show that money is not as reliable as practical skills.), he helped the helmsman hold the rope with all his strength and managed to run the boat aground. Losing no time, he rescued his mother from her waterlogged cabin and helped her ashore. All the others, the luggage, and miscellaneous items on board had been swept away by the furious waves, along with the entire bottom of the boat. In the darkness of the night, the temple gate was tightly closed. With no one responding to their calls for help, the three of them smote their chests, stomped their feet, and bemoaned their bitter fate.

When dawn finally came and the gate was opened, they rushed into the temple and asked to see the abbot they had met the day before. The abbot came out and, alarmed by their sorry condition, asked, “Did you run into bandits?”

After Qilang told him about the fallen tree and the sinking of the boat, the monks went out to see for themselves and were appalled by the sight of the giant tree lying across what remained of the boat. Without a moment’s delay, the monks had the custodians of the temple help the helmsman salvage whatever they could from what remained of the cabins, but everything had gone with the waves, including Prefect Zhang’s certificate of appointment. The monks invited Qilang’s mother into a quiet room in order to make her comfortable and consulted Qilang about stating his case to the magistrate of Lingling County. If the file copy of his certificate of appointment could be found, he would still be able to assume his post. Having come to this decision, Qilang asked the monks to make the trip. Being on good terms with officials of Lingling County, the monks indeed sent a messenger there, little knowing that

Bitter frost descends on grass already rootless;

Disaster hits those already luckless.

Qilang’s mother had been shocked out of her senses when she witnessed her younger son killed and her daughter kidnapped in the chaos of war. She had recovered, only to suffer another setback that night. With her maidservants dead and her money all gone, she was stricken with crippling grief. Her face the color of wax, she refused food and beverage and lay confined to her bed, weeping bitterly. All the more alarmed, Qilang tried to cheer her up, saying, “As the proverb goes, ‘As long as the green mountains are there, there won’t be a shortage of firewood.’ Although we’ve been hit by this dreadful disaster, I still hold a government post. Everything will be all right once I arrive at my duty station.”

Tearfully, the old lady said, “My son! My heart is torn to shreds, and it will soon be all over with me, so what’s the good of saying such words of comfort? Even if you do get to be an official, I won’t be there to see it.”

Qilang continued to cherish the illusion that he would be able to have some kind of a document drawn up locally after his mother recovered so that he could still go to Hengzhou to assume his post and turn their lives around. As it turned out, however, the shock his mother had gone through was too much for her. She failed to recover. A few days later, she breathed her last.

Qilang burst into wails of grief, but there was nothing he could do. After consulting the monks, he decided to go personally to Lingling County and plead with the magistrate for help.

Having read the report about the accident a few days earlier, the magistrate knew that Qilang was speaking the truth. Since officials are supposed to look out for one another after all and Qilang outranked him, albeit in a different province, the magistrate could not bring himself to reject Qilang. (MC: The magistrate is kind enough.) So he made arrangements for the burial of Qilang’s mother, gave Qilang a generous amount of money for his travel expenses, and saw Qilang off with due ceremony. Qilang was delighted that the magistrate had taken care of the burial, but since he had to observe the obligatory three-year mourning period, assumption of his post was out of the question. Now that he had no one to fall back on, the monks began to give him the cold shoulder and refused to let him stay on. (MC: Showing the true colors of monks.) There being no home for him to return to, he had no alternative but to stay in Yongzhou with a shipping broker whose acquaintance he had made on business trips with his father. With nothing but the travel money he had received from the magistrate of Lingling, he found his means quickly exhausted with each passing day.

Now, what do brokers know about loyalty and friendship? As the days wore on, Qilang’s host began to grow sick of him. As was only to be expected, food and beverages were served with less regularity and portions began to dwindle. (MC: Showing the true colors of brokers.) Catching on to what was happening, Qilang spoke up: “I’m the number one official of a prefecture, entitled to all kinds of privileges. I’m now observing a mourning period, but I’ll rise again. How can you show me such disrespect?”

His host countered, “Even if the emperor loses power, he also has to deal with hunger and eat some coarse food, not to speak of a prefect, and a prefect who hasn’t taken up his post, too! And even if you were a prefect, we’re not residents of Hengzhou. Why should we provide for you? We who live from hand to mouth can’t afford to feed an extra mouth.”

Thus rebuked, Qilang was at a loss for words. With tears in his eyes, he swallowed the humiliation. A couple of days later, his host picked a quarrel with him on one excuse or another, making an even uglier scene. Qilang said, “I’m in a strange land with no relatives or friends to turn to for help. I know I shouldn’t be imposing on you like this, but what else can I do? Maybe you can teach me ways of making a living for myself ?”

“Look at you! You don’t fit anywhere! If you want to support yourself, forget about your rank (MC: Valid point.) and find a job as a laborer, just as everybody else does! Only then will you be able to earn a living. But you’re not ready to do that, are you?”

On being told to hire himself out as a laborer, Qilang retorted angrily, “I’m a high-ranking official. How can I stoop that low?”

Recalling the kindness of the magistrate of Lingling, Qilang thought of telling his tale of woe to the magistrate again, believing that the magistrate would be able to come up with an idea. (IC: He doesn’t know when to stop asking for favors.) He could not very well let a prefect starve to death in a place under his jurisdiction, could he? So Qilang drew up a visiting card and, not having a servant, stuck the card in his own sleeve and went, crestfallen, to the yamen.

The gatekeeper, judging him by his woebegone appearance, thought he was a shameless swindler, there to hit the magistrate up for money, and refused to even take his visiting card. (MC: Showing the true colors of gatekeepers.) Only after Qilang pleaded over and over again, telling the gatekeeper everything that had happened—including the magistrate’s generosity in taking care of the funeral, giving him travel funds, and sending him off with all due ceremony—did the gatekeeper relent, because the last-mentioned facts were known to employees of the yamen. So his card was presented to the magistrate. On reading the name on the card, the magistrate grew irritated. (MC: Showing the true colors of officials when dealing with casual acquaintances.) He said, “This man doesn’t know what’s good for him. I went out of my way to help him out of sympathy for his loss, which happened in my territory, and out of regard for his dignity as my superior. But why is he still here, pestering me like this? Maybe what he said happened didn’t happen and was all a lie that the villain made up, to hit people up for money. Even if it wasn’t a lie, he’s still a shameless man who doesn’t know when to stop. I acted out of the best intentions, and yet I ended up bringing trouble on myself. But I’m not going to penalize him. I’ll just ignore him.” He instructed the gatekeeper to return the visiting card to Qilang and tell him that the magistrate was receiving no visitors.

Having suffered the indignity of this rejection and unable to return to his lodgings, Qilang waited by the gate for the magistrate to come out. When he did come out, Qilang began to cry at the top of his voice right there on the street. The magistrate asked from his sedan-chair, “Who is the man shouting so loudly?”

“It’s Guo Han, Prefect of Hengzhou,” yelled Qilang.

“How do you prove your identity?” asked the magistrate.

“I did have a certificate of appointment with me, but it fell into the river when the windstorm capsized my boat.”

“Without a document of identification, how can anyone tell if you’re an impostor or not? Even if you can prove that you are who you claim to be, I’ve already helped you. Why keep pestering me here? You must be a ruffian. I’ll spare you a beating, but begone this instant!”

With their boss in such a fit of rage, the lictors raised their cudgels against Qilang. Qilang had no choice but to dodge the blows. Wordlessly and in low spirits, he returned to his lodgings and sat around in dejection.

His host, having already found out what had come of his visit to the yamen, asked deliberately, “So, how did His Honor the magistrate treat you?”

With shame written all over his face, Qilang gave a sigh without venturing a word.

The host continued, “Didn’t I tell you to forget that you’re an official? You didn’t listen to me and chose to court humiliation. The way things are now, even a prime minister without proper identification is worth nothing. Physical labor is what gives you a living. (MC: Only physical labor gives one a sustainable livelihood. An empty title does not fill the stomach. This is an indisputable truth.) So stop dreaming!”

“What do you advise me to do for a living?”

“Ask yourself: What skills do you have?”

“I don’t have other skills. But in my childhood, I used to travel with my father on the rivers and lakes, and I’m quite a good hand when it comes to managing a boat.”

In delight, his host said, “Good! There’s a shortage of boatmen for the many boats coming and going around here. I’ll recommend you. You’ll at least be able to make a few strings of cash after a while so that you can have enough food to hold body and soul together.”

Seeing no other way, Qilang agreed. Henceforth, he eked out a living by hiring himself out as a boatman. After he made a few strings of cash, he returned to his host’s place. When residents of Yongzhou came to know him, those who had heard about his past gave him the nickname Helmsman-Official Guo and directed people in need of a boatman to search out Official Guo. (MC: Why didn’t they put up an advertisement board?) A ditty about him came into circulation in Yongzhou:

Official Guo, let me ask you,

Why didn’t you get to Hengzhou?

Because Heaven blocked your way

And took your pretenses away.

Your family fortune gone with the wind,

The helm becomes your official’s tablet, the tow rope your official’s belt.

Although wanting in glamour,

A boatman’s job puts food on the table.

(To the tune of “Hanging Branch”)

Although his mourning period expired after he drifted along for two years on various boats, Qilang still could not assume his post without a certificate of appointment. If he was going to bribe his way up in the capital again, where was he to lay his hands on thousands of strings of cash, as he had done before? All too obviously, it was a hopeless case. Qilang abandoned the idea and reconciled himself to working as a hired boatman. As they say, “One’s place of residence and style of life change one’s manners and appearance.” When appointed a prefect, Qilang took on the dignified look of an official, but after working for many years as a boatman, his manners and appearance came to be no different from those of the next boatman. How laughable that a prefect came to such an end! Clearly, riches and honor in this life of ours are by no means immutable. Mark this, mortals of this world: Do not be high-and-mighty snobs! Listen to this quatrain:

The rich, be not proud;

The poor, be not bitter.

Look ahead to where you will end up;

What’s before your eyes does not count.