Chapter Thirty-Two: Feiqing

In ancient times, the county yamen was also known as the administrative office, gradually evolving from the early county headquarters. As recorded in the "Book of Northern Qi: Biography of Song Shiliang," the term "yamen" had already come into use: "Each day the yamen was deserted, with no more lawsuits to hear." Thus, in the common parlance of the market, people referred to it as the county yamen rather than the public office. During the Cao Wei era, the eminent geomancer Chen Shen wrote the "Qingwu Classic," establishing a school that used the mysteries of sun, moon, and yin-yang to gather auspicious energies from all directions, demonstrating the unity of Heaven and Man, which directly influenced the architectural style of official buildings thereafter. Qiantang County was no exception: its official residence faced south, with the main gate also opening to the south, perfectly aligned with the City God Temple located in the northwest of the city. Following the principles of a hundred feet for form and a thousand feet for momentum, the central axis was set, with the main hall as the focal point. From there, the structure expanded forward, backward, and to either side in a precise and orderly fashion. There were five courtyards in succession: at the front stood the bell and drum towers and a screen wall; at the back were the lotus pond, ceremonial gate, main hall, secondary hall, main building, banquet hall, and rear garden. Flanking these were offices, clerk rooms, archives, storerooms, official residences, and the jail. The layout was regulated and dignified, embodying grandeur and restraint, with an air of frugality and simplicity intended to foster good customs and promote lasting peace.

Xu You paused before the grand gate of the yamen. The eaves soared upward, with four pillars resting atop drum-shaped stones, supporting the projecting beams and crosspieces. The joints between the pillars were unadorned, with no brackets beneath the eaves; the main ridge rose gently at both ends, devoid of ridge beasts, and the lower ridges lacked ornamental creatures. Everything was natural and unembellished, a stark contrast to the opulent homes of the city's wealthy, yet from within and without emanated a solemn, awe-inspiring atmosphere that dispelled all idle thoughts for those who stood below the gate.

“Go on, don’t just stand there like a fool. I’ll report to the magistrate, and if he’s willing to see you, consider it your good fortune. If not, don’t blame us if our batons show no mercy.”

The yamen’s batons rarely killed, but the hidden workings within the office were many. A slight twist of the wrist could leave you with internal injuries that might not show at first, but after ten days or half a month at home, you could cough blood and die without warning.

Thus, in such cases, petitioners often bribed the constables, for spending money to avert disaster was preferable to risking one’s life.

Xu You easily discerned his meaning and smiled. “No hurry. Let me meet Magistrate Gu first; punishment can wait until after.”

“Hmph! Let’s see how long you can keep up this act!”

Passing through the main gate and turning past the screen wall, Xu You glanced back at the stone, which was painted with a lotus under the moon and waves of the sea, all symbols of clarity like water, uprightness like the lotus, and brightness like the moon—a rather tasteful touch. By the Ming and Qing dynasties, the screen walls would be painted with a greedy beast, mouth agape, poised to devour sun and moon, only to meet its end at the bottom of a cliff—hardly beautiful, but certainly exuding menace.

Xu You always believed that county magistrates, as the officials closest to the people, must constantly feel the executioner’s blade poised above their heads, lest they grow arrogant and oppressive, pushing the people too far and inciting disaster.

Beyond the screen lay the lotus pond, then the ceremonial gate, which was usually closed. One entered instead through the side gates: the east gate of joy, used by the magistrate and clerks, and the west gate of doom, through which most prisoners were brought for interrogation—death-row inmates, without exception, entered here.

Zheng Jing, intent on intimidating Xu You, signaled to his men, and several constables surrounded Xu You, steering him toward the gate of doom. Zuo Wen, though of humble birth, had long served the Yuan family and was accustomed to associating only with the high and mighty. In other words, his environment shaped his perspective—he had never encountered the treacheries and ghosts of the yamen, and was momentarily bewildered.

Xu You was another matter. Though he’d never tasted pork, he’d certainly seen pigs run. The gate of doom, also called the ghost gate, was not to be entered lightly. His face turned cold as he said, “I have already told Constable Zheng everything. I took you for a clever man, thinking you would at least wait until I’d seen Magistrate Gu before throwing your weight around. But no—barely inside the yamen, just a few steps away, and you cannot contain yourself…”

Zheng Jing scowled. “Just do as you’re told! You’re a suspect I brought from the Zhibin Hall—did you imagine you’d enter through the gate of joy? Foolishness!”

Xu You stood with his hands behind his back. “I came with you to see Magistrate Gu regarding household registration, not as a criminal. Please, Constable Zheng, make no mistake.”

At this, Zheng Jing stepped closer, staring mockingly into Xu You’s eyes. “You keep insisting on seeing the magistrate, but you’re not old friends and have no prior connection. Even if you do meet, what—do you expect to leap over the dragon gate and become his honored guest?”

Xu You leaned forward and replied in a low voice, smiling, “That’s not for you to say. Magistrate Gu is discerning; if he appreciates my poetry and conversation, perhaps he’ll offer me a hand up. Unlike some who look down their noses at others, unable to distinguish beauty from ugliness or worth from mediocrity.”

Zheng Jing flushed with anger, staring at Xu You for a long moment before sneering, “I say you’re a criminal, so a criminal you are. I say you enter by the ghost gate, and today you’ll do just that. Men, take him in for questioning!”

The constables closed in, their ring-handled sabers half-drawn, grim as death itself. Any ordinary citizen would have been terrified out of their wits.

Xu You, surveying the scene, shook his head, amused, and said to Zuo Wen, “See? The character for ‘official’ is written with two mouths. Even such low-ranking clerks, dressed in green, can act with such arrogance. No wonder they say, ‘the yamen faces south; if you have reason but no money, don’t bother coming in…’”

One burly constable, his face covered in scars, couldn’t bear the words and cursed, “What kind of dog are you to talk to a constable like that? We’ve tolerated you all the way here, but now you’re in the yamen. Live or die, it’s up to the constable’s word—yet you dare boast? Want to taste my whip ten times?”

Xu You looked him over and chuckled, “Ten lashes? Very well, I’ll remember that.”

“Oh, you’ve got a sharp tongue? You look delicate enough—pretty, even. I bet your backside is soft and smooth. Why not let your daddy have a feel?”

‘Daddy’ here was a vulgar taunt, a habit of scoundrels ancient and modern alike.

Xu You nodded. “Come on then, try it and see.”

“You think your daddy wouldn’t dare?”

Just as violence was about to erupt, a man emerged from behind the gate of joy, dressed in a pale, flowing robe, his crown high, his sash fastened with an openwork beast-shaped buckle. His features were beautiful as a woman’s, with elegant brows and clear eyes—a truly striking figure.

Zheng Jing, suddenly flustered, dropped to his knees and bowed. “Greetings, Magistrate!” The other constables, seeing him kneel, hurriedly sheathed their blades and prostrated themselves as well.

Ordinarily, in the Chu bureaucracy, subordinates merely saluted their superiors unless the occasion was particularly formal. Zheng Jing, however, overcome by guilt, lost strength in his legs and knelt unbidden.

With everyone else kneeling, the one man left standing was all the more conspicuous. Seeing the newcomer look his way, Xu You stepped forward, saluted, and said, “Xu You of Yixing, sent by imperial command to register in Qiantang, here to pay respects to the magistrate and await assignment.”

Since the Han Dynasty, the term “mingfu”—illustrious lord—was mostly used for prefects, but after the Wei and Jin, it became an honorific for county magistrates as well. For example, in the “Book of the Later Han: Biography of Wu You,” it’s written, “The nation has its laws, and offenders must submit. Even if the magistrate is compassionate, mercy cannot be dispensed.” The commentator Wang Xianqian noted, “The county magistrate is called mingfu; this is the first such usage.” Thus, Zheng Jing’s repeated use of “mingfu,” though a bit sycophantic, was not inappropriate. Xu You, in person, naturally could not simply address him as “County Magistrate Gu”—that would be correct but cold.

The magistrate was taken aback, then reached out to support Xu You by the arm. “Are you Xu Qilang—Xu Weizhi?”

Xu You lifted his head and smiled gently. “I am indeed.”

The magistrate let out a long sigh of relief, delighted. “It truly is you, Weizhi! What a blessing! Just days ago, word reached us that you had been assassinated in Jinling. I mourned at length, unsure how I’d report to my superiors. But now—all is well, you are safe and sound!”

Hearing the sincerity in his words, Xu You was moved. “I am disgraced and unworthy of your kindness, Magistrate.”

“Nonsense! His Majesty has already pardoned you. This is not Yixing, nor is it the Shen family’s Wuxing. Here in Qiantang, let’s see who dares trouble you!”

Kneeling on the ground, Zheng Jing had been struck with terror at Xu You’s claim of “imperial command,” and when he heard Xu You state his name, he realized with horror that the man he’d dragged from the Zhibin Hall was the very one their magistrate had so often mentioned by name. His mind went blank, ears ringing, unable to process another word.

After the exchange of greetings, Magistrate Gu took Xu You by the arm to lead him through the gate of joy. Glancing back at Zheng Jing, he rebuked, “I heard everything that was said just now. You are usually dutiful in your work, but I am shocked to see you behave so shamefully in front of others. I may forgive you, but the law will not. Go to the legal office and accept your punishment; as of today, you are removed from the post of constable and reassigned as a gatekeeper in the military office, pending further evaluation.”

The military office was responsible for training and deploying personnel, but under the Chu system, military matters were overseen by the governor and the provincial authorities—the county’s military office, despite its impressive name, was a cold and thankless post, unlike the lucrative household, clerical, or legal offices. To be demoted from constable to gatekeeper meant the loss of all perks, face, and power. Those he’d bullied before would surely come seeking revenge.

Realizing what lay ahead, Zheng Jing slapped himself hard across the face. Now he recalled Xu You’s advice—to wait until after seeing the magistrate before making any decision. But for the sake of ten thousand coins from Zhan Ting, he’d ruined his career. What a disastrous bargain!

“Sir Xu, Sir Xu! It’s all my fault, I was blind… You are a gentleman, please, say a word for me to the magistrate. For the sake of my first offense, ask him to spare me this once…”

Seeing his pitiful, stammering state, so different from his earlier arrogance, one could only wonder why he’d brought this upon himself.

But Xu You was no saint. Showing restraint now was kindness enough; he had no intention of pleading for Zheng Jing. “This is an internal matter for Magistrate Gu. What standing do I have to interfere? Serve well in the military office—you’ll at least have food to eat. Unlike one of your fellows, who threatened to whip me ten times; I fear he’ll struggle even to feed himself in the future.”

With a thud, that constable fainted dead away.

“Take him out, give him twenty lashes, then send him to the river embankment for three years of hard labor!”

Emerging from the ceremonial gate, they entered a spacious courtyard, free of the boundary stone. The maxim “Impartiality breeds clarity, integrity engenders authority,” carved on the stone behind, would not appear in county offices until the Ming. At the far end of the courtyard stood the main hall, where the magistrate held court and heard cases, followed by the secondary hall for official business with his associates. Further back rose the three-story main building, the magistrate’s residence. At the entrance stood a round bronze mirror, three feet across, for straightening one’s attire and reflecting on one’s conduct—a tool for self-examination.

“I live here alone; my family remains in Wu County. There’s little to see inside. Would you, Weizhi, care to stroll with me in the rear garden?”

“Magistrate…”

“Ah, no need for such formality. I am but a few years your senior; call me by my courtesy name. Ah, you likely do not know it yet. Allow me to introduce myself!”

He smiled broadly. “I am Gu Yun of Wu Commandery, styled Feiqing. A pleasure to meet you, Weizhi!”