Chapter 61: We Have the Heavenly Lord Dao Xuan's Protection
Once inside the city, they felt safe.
The two sculptors were the first to speak: "San Shier, we plan to take a stroll through the market."
"Very well, go," San Shier replied. "Tomorrow morning, bright and early, gather at the city gates. We'll return together. Under no circumstances should you try to go back on your own. You've seen how dangerous the road can be, haven't you?"
The two sculptors quickly nodded. On the way here, they had almost been hacked to death by bandits; how could they dare to return by themselves?
The two excused themselves, then, shouldering their small bundles, headed straight for the market.
At this time, a severe drought gripped the land, and people's livelihoods were in tatters. There weren't many merchants in the market. While there were a few selling miscellaneous daily necessities, food vendors were extremely rare. Especially various side dishes and seasonings—few, if any, were for sale.
The two sculptors unfurled their bundles in a corner of the market. They took out some of the excellent goods bestowed by the Heavenly Lord and laid them out.
The moment they did, a commotion erupted. A large crowd instantly surged around them.
"This... this is sugar!" someone gasped. "Snow-white, transparent sugar!"
The two sculptors looked up, smiling. "Good stuff, isn't it?" they asked.
"Give me one qian."
"I'll take two qian."
"I'll have one qian too."
City dwellers were far wealthier than their rural counterparts, yet they didn't dare buy too much. Forget buying by the jin (catty) or even by the liang (tael); they could only afford one or two qian, just to satisfy their cravings.
While one sculptor was doing a roaring trade in sugar, a crowd had gathered around the other. "Is that... lard?" someone inquired.
The sculptor nodded. "Indeed! Top-quality lard. Smell it, isn't it fragrant?"
"What kind of times are these that you still have lard?"
"People can barely feed themselves," another exclaimed, "and your family can still afford to raise pigs? What kind of family is that?"
Of course, city dwellers couldn't raise pigs. The lard they usually ate came from farmers in the countryside selling it in the city. But ever since the drought began, the number of households raising pigs had dwindled, becoming fewer and fewer, until it was almost nonexistent.
These people hadn't tasted lard in who knew how long.
"This... I'll take three qian."
"Give me five qian."
Everyone bought small amounts; after all, this stuff was incredibly expensive. But with so many buyers, in no time, all the goods the two sculptors had brought were sold out completely. They had two large bundles of crushed silver in return.
The two sculptors weighed the silver in their money pouches, overjoyed. They exchanged a look and said, "Now we can afford to pay the Artisan Registration Fee!"
It turned out that these two sculptors, like Li Da, belonged to the artisan registry system.
The difference was, Li Da was a "Resident Artisan," while the two sculptors were "Rotation Artisans."
Resident Artisans were bound by a "fixed attendance system," much like modern-day laborers, required to report to government workshops on time. Their personal freedom was severely restricted, which was why Li Da was desperate to shed his artisan status.
Rotation Artisans, however, enjoyed more freedom. Every three to five years, they would take turns working in government workshops. Typically, after working for three consecutive months, they would earn another three to five years of rest, making their situation relatively freer.
In the 41st year of Jiajing (1562), the imperial court reformed the artisan service system. It allowed Rotation Artisans to completely forgo their service, provided they paid an "Artisan Registration Fee" of four qian and five fen annually. The court would then use this money to hire other people to perform the work.
Previously, the two sculptors couldn't afford this fee, so they had to dutifully take their turns. But recently, having received the Heavenly Lord's blessings, and with many valuable items at home, they conceived the idea of converting these items into cash to pay the "Artisan Registration Fee."
This was why they had risked their lives to accompany San Shier to the county town.
Now that the money was exchanged, their pockets were bulging, and their confidence soared. They could finally pay for their freedom.
With their chests held high and backs straight, they walked with a confident swagger, heads up, towards the government workshop.
Entering the workshop complex, they passed through the main hall. Along the way, they saw all sorts of artisans: carpenters, sawyers, tilers, blacksmiths, tailors, painters, bamboo weavers, tinsmiths, engravers, founders, curtain makers, flower embroiderers, double-thread weavers, stone masons, silversmiths, drum makers, armorers, inkstone makers, barrel makers, five-ink artisans, palanquin carvers, leather tanners, lacquerware artisans, sculptors, paper makers, glassblowers...
(PS: Of course, it's impossible for so many artisans to be in one workshop. This is merely a list to show the variety of artisan households in the Ming Dynasty.)
The government workshop housed countless skilled individuals, all of them fiercely talented with nimble hands and clever minds.
These artisans, seeing each other daily, mostly knew one another. Spotting the two sculptors, they waved greetings. "Oh, it's you two?" someone called out. "I remember you two just completed your rotation last year; you shouldn't need to come this year. Why are you here?"
The two sculptors smiled triumphantly. "We've earned enough money to pay the Artisan Registration Fee," they chuckled.
As soon as these words left their mouths, they were met with glances of jealousy, envy, and resentment.
Who wouldn't want to pay for their freedom?
But few could afford it.
Artisans were poorer than the next, their lives more miserable than the last. Forget about having money to pay the Artisan Registration Fee; most of them had to pawn their children just to barely survive.
Hearing that the two sculptors had actually earned enough to pay the Artisan Registration Fee, a group couldn't help but crowd around them. "Where did you two strike it rich?" one asked. "What's your secret? Tell us, too! We also want to pay the Artisan Registration Fee, then just walk away without a care in the world!"
The two sculptors weren't foolish. Such a matter could be discussed privately, but not blurted out to a whole crowd. So they simply chuckled. "We have received the Heavenly Lord Dao Xuan's protection," they announced.
Without further explanation, they walked straight into the inner hall, to meet the master artisan in charge.
"Master Artisan, we are here to pay the Artisan Registration Fee."
The master artisan was an old man. He snorted through his nostrils. "How many years of the Artisan Registration Fee are you prepared to pay all at once?" he asked. "Let me remind you," he cautioned, "you are both Rotation Artisans on a three-year cycle. If you wish to skip your next rotation, you must pay three years of the Artisan Registration Fee in one go. That's thirteen qian and five fen—no small sum."
The old man had just finished speaking.
The two sculptors declared in unison, "We're paying for thirty years! We won't need to report for the next ten rotations. Master Artisan, you might not see us again in your lifetime!"
"Pfft!"
The old man nearly spat out a mouthful of tea. "Thirty years?" he spluttered. "That's eight liang and five qian of silver! You two paupers, how could you possibly come up with eight liang and five qian of silver?"
The two sculptors stood ramrod straight, a mysterious, confident smile playing on their faces. They reached into their robes, pulled out two large money pouches, and slapped them onto the table with a loud clatter of silver.
Just by the sound, the old man knew there was indeed something substantial in those pouches.
He opened the pouches and, sure enough, they were full of crushed silver. A quick weigh in his hand confirmed there was more than enough, even enough to tip generously.
The old man was now convinced. He took out a thick ledger, turned to the "Sculptors" page, found their names, and beside them wrote: "Artisan Registration Fee paid for thirty years." Then he marked the date and drew a circle.
The two sculptors declared proudly, "Master Artisan, we part ways here. We'll never meet again in this lifetime!"
The old man waved his hand, unsure what else to say. He could only watch them stride confidently, disappearing beyond the government workshop.
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