“I’m writing this report right now, and Little Thompson’s money arrived just in time.” Mr. Harris stroked his mouse-like whiskers and smiled, “Little Thompson is really getting better at handling things. The magistrate was even worried you’d bring a whole group of slaves to settle the matter!”

“You flatter me, Master Secretary.”

Mr. Harris untied the bundle and counted the banknotes inside. Suddenly, he chuckled, “You didn’t accept only banknotes, did you?”

William Thompson understood what he meant. This was actually an unwritten rule: when the government auctioned off goods, they accepted both silver and banknotes. Then, the clerks would privately exchange the silver for banknotes. When the banknotes depreciated further, the officials would pocket the difference in exchange rates as illicit gains.

Everyone in officialdom knew this secret. Zhu Yuanzhang hated it but couldn’t catch anyone with evidence. After all, it was a loophole he himself had created. In the early years, the court collected only tens of thousands of taels of silver in taxes per year, yet he insisted on issuing fifty million strings of banknotes annually, and even issued a strict order that banknotes and silver be exchanged one-to-one, forbidding the use of gold and silver among the people. In reality, the banknotes depreciated year after year, and one string of banknotes was worth only 250 copper coins on the market. He couldn’t stop the use of gold and silver, no matter how hard he tried.

Everyone knew this secret, but all pretended ignorance. Now that Mr. Harris had brought it up, it meant something different—he was actually asking William Thompson for his share!

William Thompson sighed inwardly and said helplessly, “Master Secretary, please write me a receipt for a round number.”

Mr. Harris grinned, and immediately wrote out three copies of a receipt for six hundred strings: one for the magistrate, one to accompany the recovered funds, and the last for William Thompson. William Thompson put away the receipt and took his leave. As he walked away, Mr. Harris watched his back, and a shadowy smile flickered in his eyes.

William Thompson couldn’t help but reflect on the corruption of the Ming bureaucracy and the greed of its officials. This was still the cleanest period, the early Ming, when Zhu Yuanzhang shocked the world by flaying corrupt officials alive. In the later middle and late Ming, when discipline loosened, one could only imagine how dark things became. But it was really the system’s fault. For example, secretaries received no official salary and relied entirely on the magistrate to support them out of his own pocket. Zhu Yuanzhang gave local officials such meager rations that it barely fed the officials themselves, and sometimes even paid them in banknotes, at the official rate of one string of banknotes for two dan of rice. In reality, one string of banknotes could only buy half a dan on the market. As the banknotes depreciated, officials’ salaries couldn’t even support their families, let alone a secretary. It was a paradox: expecting the horse to run fast, but not letting it eat grass—how could that work? So it was no wonder that corrupt officials in the early Ming were executed in droves.

……

After finishing his errand, William Thompson hurried back to his lodging—there was still a poor little girl waiting for his help! Passing by a clothing shop, he hesitated for a moment, then dashed inside. When he came out, he was carrying a cloth bundle, which he stuffed into his clothes like a thief, his face as red as if covered by a cloth.

His lodging was close by. William Thompson rushed back to the small courtyard like the wind. The door was ajar, and William Thompson froze—he suddenly remembered he hadn’t given Samuel Williams the key! How did he open the door? Sure enough, there was a big footprint on the door, and the iron latch had been knocked off. William Thompson was furious. That brute—was he trying to show off in front of the little girl?

William Thompson entered the courtyard. In the golden sunset, he saw the little girl washing her face by the well, her hands red from the cold, her hair apparently washed as well. “What are you doing!” he shouted.

The little girl jumped, dropping the washbasin in fright and running to hide behind the old locust tree. William Thompson realized he’d scared her, scratched the back of his head apologetically, and said, “Sorry! I just meant that washing your hair with well water now will make you sick. Why not use hot water?”

He suddenly slapped his forehead. Of course! She didn’t have a key to the room. He quickly took out his key, opened the door, and called to the girl, “Come inside! There’s food and a brazier for warmth. You can dry your hair.”

Maybe she was starving, or maybe she knew she had to face him. At last, she slowly came out from behind the tree, and William Thompson finally saw her face. She was pale, with a bluish tinge, frighteningly thin, her eyes abnormally large and always filled with fear. But if you looked closely, you’d see her features were actually quite nice—small and cute. What a pity she was mute. William Thompson sighed inwardly and said gently, “Come inside. I won’t hurt you.”

William Thompson went in, lit the lamp, quickly took the cloth bundle from under his clothes and put it on the table, then deftly brought over a plate of pastries he’d half eaten that morning. His dinner was delivered daily by a restaurant waiter, but it wasn’t time yet.

Just as he finished arranging things, the little girl finally shuffled into the room. William Thompson pulled out a chair for her and pointed at the pastries on the table, smiling, “Have something to eat first!”

The little girl stared fixedly at the pastries, then suddenly rushed forward, grabbing them and stuffing them into her mouth. She choked on the pastry crumbs, bent over, and coughed violently, her face contorted in pain. William Thompson was startled, quickly grabbed his water flask, and patted her shoulder, saying, “Don’t rush! Have some water.”

But the girl’s shoulder jerked violently, and like a startled rabbit, she darted into the corner, watching him warily, her mouth still stuffed with pastry. William Thompson’s hand froze in midair. He awkwardly pinched his fingers and gave a wry smile, “I just wanted you to drink some water, that’s all.”