Chapter 628 — A Tenth of What

CHAPTER 628

A Tenth of What

“Thirty-eight,” Shi Feng said, and closed the Commission Book.

“Master, there are a hundred and forty names in there!” Tao Xiaoyu protested.

“And one of me,” Shi Feng said. “Plus Old Ji, as long as somebody counts for him. Each contract needs about two sets to come out right, the harvest lasts sixty days, and I like sleeping. Thirty-eight contracts, at triple fees. Everyone else can come back in spring.”

The lane outside heard him. The lane always heard him.

“Triple! Is he robbing us?”

“My house waited a year for the Pavilion hall. A year! Triple is cheap!”

“Put my name down for spring. No, put it down twice.”

“…”

Fan Baoshou came in rubbing his hands. “Triple, and they’re still begging!” Fan Baoshou said happily. “This Fan has never seen such a season!”

The thirty-eight signed by evening, every one of them with the furnace clause in bold.

Three days later, a notice was nailed to the post at his herb berth on the canal steps.

CLOSED FOR INSPECTION. TEN DAYS. BY ORDER OF THE CITY LORD’S OFFICE.

Every other berth on the canal stayed open. Barges unloaded on both sides of his, while his own clients’ crates sat on the water in the autumn sun.

“Ten days!” Tao Erniang shouted, with her hands on her hips. “The herbs will rot in five! Officials can burn down houses, but commoners aren’t even allowed to light a lamp! And on Lamp-Oil Lane, too!”

“It’s the fox borrowing the tiger’s might, Master Feng,” Fan Baoshou said nervously. “Every shop on the river is watching to see what you do.”

“Then let’s give them something worth watching,” Shi Feng said. “Xiaoyu, run to the Pavilion and find Clerk Rao. Take the season’s contracts with you.”

Tao Xiaoyu was gone before he’d finished.

The visitor came the next morning, exactly as Shi Feng had expected. He was a neat man in his fifties with a black official’s cap, a soft voice and two clerks behind him. He accepted a stool and a cup of tea as if he came every day.

“Tan Shou, steward to the City Lord,” Tan Shou said. “Alchemist Feng, your shop is a credit to Wanhe. The City Lord is delighted.”

“Then why is my berth shut, Steward Tan?” Shi Feng asked.

“A matter of order,” Tan Shou said smoothly. “A shop that prospers so much has a duty to the city that feeds it. A tenth of the season’s take, as a contribution, and the berth will open today.” He sipped his tea. “Water can carry a boat, Alchemist Feng. It can also overturn it.”

Shi Feng nodded, very seriously.

“A tenth of what, Steward Tan?” Shi Feng asked. “The fees before the herb costs? The surplus pills that haven't been made yet? Or the failures this shop eats as losses? Name the charge clearly.”

Tan Shou kept smiling, unwilling to name a precise amount or explain the charge.

“The season’s take,” Tan Shou repeated.

Shi Feng took a small hourglass from the shelf, turned it over and set it on the counter between them.

“You're taking time I should be spending on those commissions,” Shi Feng said, turning the glass toward him. “The time fee starts now. Three hundred stones a turn.”

One of the clerks choked on his tea.

Before Tan Shou could answer, the shop door opened. Clerk Rao Yingchun stepped inside with Tao Xiaoyu at her elbow and a flat lacquer case under her arm. She bowed deeply to both men.

“Honoured Alchemist Feng. Steward Tan. Forgive this clerk for interrupting,” Rao Yingchun said courteously. “The branch heard there was a question about this shop’s duty. Every commission Alchemist Feng signs is registered through the Pavilion, and the Pavilion collects the market duty on it, one tenth, and pays it to the City Lord’s treasury each month.” She opened the case. “Here are the receipts for the season so far. Each one is stamped by the treasury itself.”

Tan Shou looked down at the stamps. They were his own office’s stamps.

Shi Feng beamed. He’d worked it out the moment the notice went up. Every contract went through the Pavilion, so the tenth had already been paid, and the City Lord’s own seal was on the proof. Tan Shou had come to collect a tax twice, and he’d brought no witness but himself.

“Senior Brother Lin’s Lesson thirty-two,” Shi Feng said happily. “When a man asks you to pay twice, bill him for asking.”

He wrote it out on a fresh sheet while the sand ran. Four turns of the hourglass. One day of a closed berth during harvest. The clients’ crates on the water. Twelve thousand stones. Under it, a single line: The duty of this shop for the autumn season is settled in full.

He turned the paper round and held out the brush.

Tan Shou looked at the paper, then at Rao Yingchun, who stood politely by the door and was clearly going to stay there until it was over. A steward could squeeze a noodle-lane shop. He couldn’t have the Sky Pavilion report that the City Lord’s office had taxed a marked commission twice.

Tan Shou signed. One of his clerks counted out twelve thousand stones.

“The City Lord will be glad to hear his duties are paid so promptly,” Tan Shou said, rising with a perfect bow.

“Please give him my regards,” Shi Feng replied. “The tea was free. Keep the settlement with your office's receipts.”

By afternoon, the notice was gone from the post, and the first crates were coming up the canal steps.

That night Tao Xiaoyu sat over the Commission Book for a long time, moving her lips.

“Master,” Tao Xiaoyu said at last, very quietly. “If all thirty-eight pay, the Book reaches a number I don’t know how to write.”