"Your father is a learned and principled official. He has enjoyed a long career in serving various provincial posts, earning a reputation for integrity and literary talent. It is known to the entirety of Bianjing that he has eloquence and the ability to make subtle critiques of court policies, serving the Emperor and the people alike. I truly don't understand how your father, Wang Zhi, my benevolent patron, has been imprisoned." Said Ruolan's father, in his 50s at most. He sat at the head of a receiving host room beside his wife, who was similarly aged.
A younger man, in his 30s, sat aggrieved on the side.
"Uncle, you are more aware than me on the fractional strife and political climate in the royal court. For some time now, its been riven by fractional disputes between my father's fellow conservatives and opposing reformists."He paused, sighed then continued. "It is no lie to say that my father has been outspoken these past few years, in both private correspondence and in his own poems. You know this too uncle. But, who would've known that my father's poem criticizing the government's policy on the salt industry monopoly would have been flipped on its head and used to criticize the Emperor instead? This was completely unexpected and despite its ridiculousness, it was deemed substantial enough to be used as evidence for that claim!" The man, Wang Zhi's eldest son and bearer of ugly news, shook his head.
Ruolan's father slowly his sipped his tea and gazed outside towards the courtyard. "Your father is a smart man. Do not worry. My Yuan family will support your household and think of ways to free your father the best we can. We have always been grateful and indebted to the Wang household." He set down his tea cup. "However... Considering your father's situation, I think it's wise for you to return back to your manor. I expect that you'll have a guest from the Royal Palace, asking to check if your father had written other poems. If you are not there, your family may not be well equipped to receive them."
The eldest Wang son sat up, and bowed deeply. "Uncle, you are wise. Thank you for meeting me today uncle and aunt. It is reassuring to know that you are supporting my clan." He put his hands together in gratitude.
Ruolan's mother, the madam of the Yuan household, gently held the man's hands. "Please, Jingwei, good child, you're being too respectful. It's our gratitude to be able to help your family. We also wish your father can be cleared of this misunderstanding."
The eldest son raised his head and smiled with a quivering lip and excused himself. Ruolan's mother waited until the door closed behind Jinwei before speaking in a low, urgent voice.
"Husband... We must consider our position. The Wang family's disgrace is not only their own. If the censors turn their eyes upon us-"
The master gazed out towards the blooming yellow chrysanthemums in the courtyard. "The Wang clan has contributed greatly to the empire. As magistrate and later prefect in Bozhou, our patron was pragmatic and humane. He opened the granaries in lean years, built irrigation dikes when the river threatened the fields, and established clinics and schools for the poor. He never sought profit, only the people's welfare."
The madam's fingers tightened on her handkerchief. "But his flaw was that he could never keep his opinions to himself. That poem, everyone whispers of it: likening the reformists to 'men who dam the river, blind to the floods that drown the fields,' and the salt policy to a 'bitter crust on the people's lips'. Why provoke the court, and over salt of all things?"
The master's voice was quiet but firm."Salt is no small matter. The reformists argue that a state monopoly of salt would fill the treasury, funds the armies, and curbs the power of greedy merchants. In principle, who would oppose strengthening the realm? But in practice, the price of salt has doubled since the new policy. The poor must choose between hunger and breaking the law. Smuggling thrives, and honest men are ruined. Brother Wang saw this clearly. He wrote that the law, if it forgets the people, becomes a burden rather than a shield."
She shook her head. "But the reformists claim the old ways let local magnates bleed the state dry. They say only central control can prevent corruption."
He sighed. "Yet now the people suffer under both the officials and the smugglers. The intent was good, but the result is hardship and resentment. Brother Wang's poem was not rebellion but a warning. However, in these times, even warnings are dangerous."
She looked at him, worry in her eyes. "Belief does not shield us from suspicion. If we are seen as sympathizers, our daughters' marriages, our son's prospects... All could be lost. We should distance ourselves, for the sake of the children."
The master stroked his beard, his eyes distant. "You are right, but it is a bitter thing to turn one's back on a friend for speaking the truth. In Bianjing, truth is as rare as a yellow chrysanthemum in summer; admired, but not long for this world."