Chapter 5: The Dog Rides the Man
“Everyone disperse, disperse.”
Jiang Qingyun unleashed a furious beating on the men, and his pent-up frustration eased considerably.
Lu Xun once said: Civil officials should learn some martial arts, and military officers should study some literature.
Truly a great literary master—each word a profound truth, applicable and respected in any era or field. The commander of the Military Affairs Department is a civil official.
“Brother Jiang, let’s go. I’ll see you off to your new post.”
“Just a moment.”
He hesitated briefly, then walked quickly toward the monk, clasped his hands together, and asked, “Amitabha, may I ask your Dharma name, Master?”
The tall monk promptly returned the greeting. “I am Monk Tianji.”
…
Zhou Shao looked surprised. Wasn’t the monk mentioned earlier in the Infant Care Hall the same person?
What a coincidence.
Jiang Qingyun nodded without surprise.
Before speaking, his intuition had already told him this monk was Tianji; after all, such a flashy Dharma name was rarely used by ordinary people.
His intuition was right.
In a flash, Jiang Qingyun recalled a senior mentor from his younger days before transmigration once telling him:
“At our level, you must trust your intuition. Never make excuses or try to deceive your own instincts. The tragedy of adulthood begins with betraying your intuition.”
That mentor was truly wise.
…
Jiang Qingyun was about 178 cm tall, yet Monk Tianji was half a head taller—truly uncommon.
Tianji bowed slightly and chanted:
“Ancient temples’ incense never ceases, good and evil intertwined with endless karma. The benefactor draws the sword in righteous anger; the wicked servant’s evil brings fire upon himself.”
“The old monk sees in the benefactor the appearance of an Arhat.”
Zhou Shao smiled.
Jiang Qingyun smiled as well. The phrase sounded familiar; apparently, this monk identified everyone as an Arhat.
“Master, I just met someone who said he was the Begging Arhat.”
Having his ruse exposed, Tianji smiled without offense. “Benefactor, would you allow this old monk to read your fortune for free?”
Jiang Qingyun removed his hat, his smile fading.
After a serious observation, Tianji praised again:
“Benefactor, you have a noble appearance; official success is but a minor path. Wife, wealth, children, and longevity can all be foretold. Most rare of all, your incarnation bears a great mission.”
“Master, what great mission?”
“The Buddha says: It cannot be spoken.”
“Promotion and wealth are minor matters—then what is the major path?”
“The Buddha says: It also cannot be spoken!”
Wisdom gleamed in Tianji’s eyes, embodying the demeanor of a transcendent sage.
A less experienced benefactor would surely be overwhelmed by such supreme persuasion. Reincarnated as an Arhat, the minor and major paths blend—men donate silver, women offer their bodies, all as is proper.
…
“Master, what Arhat was I in my past life?”
“The Sitting Deer Arhat.”
What is said casually can be deeply felt.
This was Jiang Qingyun’s second shiver of the day, almost making him cry out.
The Sitting Deer Arhat, also known as the Venerable Bindurabharadage, was once a royal minister who later guided his king to become a monk.
Was this prophecy mere coincidence or fate’s design?
Zhou Shao could not help but ask, “Master, may I have a reading as well?”
“Benefactor, you possess compassion but lack the thunderous Vajra hand; therefore, you must not be overly merciful, lest you suffer backlash. I give you eight words: small kindness brings blessings, great kindness invites disaster.”
Jiang Qingyun asked, “Brother Zhou’s past life was also an Arhat?”
Master Tianji shook his head.
…
Jiang Qingyun thought it best to attend to his appointment quickly.
“Master, I am to take office at the Military Affairs Department in the Southern City. If you have matters in the future, you may come to my office.”
The monk asked, “Benefactor, do you have money?”
“No money!” both answered in unison.
“Do not tell lies before a monk!”
“Truly no money! It was all given to the Infant Care Hall in the alley.”
The monk sighed softly and rose to leave.
Jiang Qingyun asked, “Master, at which temple do you reside?”
“A wanderer, unattached and unbound. If fate wills, we shall meet again.”
They exchanged glances, dismissing the encounter as just a strange, eccentric monk—a minor episode before Jiang Qingyun’s new post.
…
Evening—
The Military Affairs Department’s office in the Southern City looked shabby from the outside. Yet, no matter how rundown, it was still a government office, majestic and inviolable.
At the alley’s entrance, two green sedan chairs arrived leisurely.
“Lower the sedan!”
Four men carried the green silk sedan, a mark of noble rank.
Forewarned, the commander, clerk, soldiers, and coroner—twenty in total—knelt respectfully at the entrance.
Jiang Qingyun lifted the curtain and stepped down.
He clasped his fists in salute:
“Brothers, I am Jiang Qingyun, newly appointed deputy commander of the Southern City Military Affairs Department. From now on, we’ll all be in the same pot stirring the ladle. I’m a rough man, a warrior by background. Please look after me.”
“Why kneel? Stand up.”
The group was awkward, thinking: We’re not kneeling to you, but to the Ministry of Personnel’s junior official.
…
Inside the other green sedan chair, the Ministry of Personnel’s junior official sat like a shy bride, hesitant to step out.
Urte, a Manchu of the Plain Blue Banner and the current commander of the Southern City Military Affairs Department, stared at the sedan chair in confusion. He dared not rudely lift the curtain.
What if the chair concealed a senior official from the Examination Department? He could be in serious trouble later.
What of the legitimate banner men?
A higher official’s rank crushes all.
In the capital’s hierarchy, respect was not simply about Manchu or Han status. A Han Minister might endure a Manchu Minister’s temper, but no low-ranking banner soldier would dare confront them.
As Urte hesitated, the green sedan suddenly rose.
Returning!
Everyone was dumbfounded. Was the Ministry of Personnel’s official dissatisfied here? Didn’t even get out of the chair.
“Oh dear! Uncle… Sir, please wait!”
Jiang Qingyun, new to the post, suddenly slapped his forehead and jogged after the green sedan, whispering a few words.
…
A small bundle was handed out the sedan window.
Jiang Qingyun took the bundle and swaggered back.
Everyone watched eagerly as the playful new deputy commander quickly regained his dignified official bearing, marching toward them with measured steps.
…
“Commander, please!”
“Deputy Commander, please!”
After several polite exchanges at the office door, Jiang Qingyun suddenly clasped his hands and decisively took the lead, leaving the sixth-rank commander Urte stunned.
Something was off.
Who was truly in charge at the Southern City Military Affairs Department—the commander or the deputy?
Everyone saw it clearly. Some were gleeful, others wary, and some felt inspired to pledge allegiance.
In short,
A deputy commander with significant backing had arrived at the modest Southern City Military Affairs Department.
That evening, as usual, a grand welcome banquet was held.
The banquet is a vital part of officialdom, its significance rivaling formal meetings. Amidst clinking cups, much information is exchanged.
Take, for example, Clerk Zhao Zesheng.
The Qing official system had nine ranks and eighteen grades; clerks were outside this ranking—below ninth rank.
When toasted alone, he bent his waist conspicuously and lowered his cup three inches.
“Master Jiang, I’ll finish it all; please, feel free.”
Jiang Qingyun glanced at Urte with his peripheral vision while tilting his head back to drink. Seeing Urte’s sullen face confirmed his suspicion—Clerk Zhao was not favored by his superior; their relationship was poor.
He drained his cup and turned it to show sincerity.
Clerk Zhao’s face flushed with excitement, hastily refilling the cup.
…
Before taking office, Jiang Qingyun had resolved to overshadow the commander, to dominate the scene.
From the moment he stepped down from the sedan, he seized every opportunity to shine.
Now, he raised his voice:
“The Military Affairs Department is the first line of defense for the capital. We are comrades who fight side by side, entrusting life and death to each other. Today, there are no superiors, only brothers. Brothers, for the Great Qing, drink up!”
Everyone rose together, raising their glasses with a unified shout: “To victory!”
Urte’s face darkened further. That was his line!
…
The welcome banquet ended, but the night was far from over.
Clerk Zhao and several soldiers and the coroner, bustling around an intoxicated Jiang Qingyun, dragged him off to Han Family Alley for entertainment.
Han Family Alley was one of the Eight Major Alleys, conveniently within the Southern City Military Affairs Department’s jurisdiction. Though not yet prosperous, it was beginning to show promise.
Undoubtedly, Deputy Commander Jiang was set to enjoy a pleasant evening.
At the rear office of the Military Affairs Department—
A furious Urte questioned his confidant, “When they greeted the official outside, did he call him ‘uncle’?”
“That’s right!”
“Who exactly is his ‘uncle’?”
“How should I know?!”