Li Dao Xuan caught the tone immediately.
Wei Zhongxian had already fallen.
Which meant everything he left behind—especially anything that offended scholar-official wallets—was now being quietly buried, one policy at a time.
Mining tax was one of the first casualties.
The southern officials never liked paying it. They preferred a more traditional arrangement: resources are public in theory, private in practice. With a few elegant arguments about "the dignity of the gentry," entire coal mines quietly became personal property, tax-free, nameplate polished, conscience outsourced.
Anyone with even a sliver of eyesight—or decency—could tell how that story ended: the country hollowed out by people who insisted they were holding it up.
Feng Jun was clearly one of the rare ones who noticed the smell before the rot spread too far.
He didn't want He Yang County's coal to be "temporarily entrusted" to Gao Family Village, only to wake up one day and discover it permanently registered under some official's cousin's dog's courtesy name.
That, he couldn't do.
Li Dao Xuan smiled.
He didn't blame Feng Jun for being cautious. In fact, this was exactly what a competent magistrate should look like. If Feng Jun had cheerfully handed over the mine without thinking, that would have been a problem—a rotten apple waiting to ruin the barrel.
The harder Feng Jun tried to protect the coal, the more Li Dao Xuan valued him.
A man who fought to protect the old state's assets would fight even harder for a new one.
Li Dao Xuan spoke calmly.
"Magistrate Feng is worried that Gao Family Village intends to swallow He Yang's coal mine?"
Feng Jun straightened, his tone firm.
"Lady Li, your village has shown this county great kindness. I will not deny that. But coal is not grain. It cannot be handed over lightly. The paths it opens… are too many."
Li Dao Xuan nodded, then smiled.
"In that case, let us make a gentleman's agreement."
She paused, letting the words land.
"For every day Gao Family Village digs coal at Jinshui Gully, we will provide one day's worth of grain relief to the people of He Yang. Free of charge."
Feng Jun's heart skipped.
So that was the move.
One hand held bread.
The other, a knife.
Refuse the mine, and the grain stops.
Accept the deal, and the county eats.
His brows knit tightly.
He Yang could not afford a break in food supply. One missed day, and the county would unravel—bandits reborn, order collapsing, hope evaporating faster than rain on dry ground.
Coal for grain.
From the people's perspective, it was a fair trade.
Resources existed to sustain lives, not to sit untouched while people starved.
Feng Jun's expression hardened into resolve. He bowed properly, solemn and precise.
"Very well. This official accepts the agreement. One day of grain for one day of mining. Any pressure from the court—I will bear it."
Li Dao Xuan smiled.
Good.
Truthfully, whether Feng Jun agreed or not, the grain would come, and the coal would be dug. A county magistrate could not stop a Tianzun any more than he could stop the rain.
This had merely been a test.
And Feng Jun passed.
"Then we will proceed to Jinshui Gully," Li Dao Xuan said lightly.
"Will Magistrate Feng accompany us, or issue a hand order for the mine workers?"
"I will go myself," Feng Jun replied at once.
He wanted to see exactly how Gao Family Village intended to "manage" an official mine.
The procession moved out.
Gao Yiye returned to the carriage. Feng Jun rode alongside with his clerks and runners.
Shansier rode beside him, an easy match in pace.
"You are truly a man of integrity," Shansier said with a smile.
"Too kind," Feng Jun replied. "This county has suffered too much. I have little right to praise myself."
"How many people remain in He Yang?" Shansier asked.
"Eight-two-three-two-two-three," Feng Jun answered without hesitation.
"Likely another ten thousand hiding in remote areas."
Shansier raised an eyebrow—quietly impressed.
Feng Jun continued, voice steady but heavy.
"At minimum, they consume forty to fifty thousand jin of grain per day. To eat properly—eighty thousand. Add labor wages… and we reach one hundred thirty thousand jin daily."
He looked directly at Shansier.
"How long can your village sustain this?"
Shansier laughed inwardly. A handful of flour from the Tianzun would drown this county.
But he frowned instead, counting on his fingers with exaggerated seriousness.
"One hundred thirty thousand…"
He sighed deeply.
"We can only last this long."
Three fingers rose.
Feng Jun's face drained of color.
"Three days?!"
Trivia
Coal Mining and "Private Entrustment"
By the late Ming period, official bans on private mining had largely collapsed. Local officials and gentry often "managed" state resources under temporary arrangements that quietly became permanent. On paper, the state owned the mine; in practice, profits vanished into private networks.
Grain as Governance
In premodern China, food supply was stability. Grain relief wasn't charity—it was crowd control, economic stimulus, and legitimacy rolled into one. A county that fed its people stayed quiet. One that didn't grew bandits.