The people of Suzhou were so reluctant to let Zhu Ping’an go that, despite his throat nearly going hoarse from persuading them, he couldn’t convince the crowd blocking the road to disperse.
In the end, it was a passerby’s shout that came to Zhu Ping’an’s rescue: “Everyone, stop blocking the way! Let Lord Zhu go take up his post! With his talents, achieving merits will be as easy as eating or drinking. He’s already the Governor of Zhejiang. Once he takes office and racks up more accomplishments, won’t he be promoted to Governor-General of Jiangnan? Then, Lord Zhu will be our parent-official again!”
This single remark swayed the crowd.
“Exactly! With Lord Zhu’s skills and ability, earning merits is a piece of cake. He’ll be promoted to Governor-General of Jiangnan in no time.”
“Everyone, make way! Don’t delay Lord Zhu’s chance to earn merits. With so many Japanese pirates in Zhejiang, how could he not achieve great things? Every moment we hold him up delays his accomplishments and his promotion to Governor-General.”
“Make way, don’t trouble Lord Zhu. This is the emperor’s decree. If we keep blocking the road, we’ll cause Lord Zhu to defy the imperial edict. If the higher-ups blame him, won’t it be our great benefactor, Lord Zhu, who suffers?”
“Let’s make way!”
Many in the crowd began to echo these sentiments, and gradually, the packed throng parted, creating a narrow path just wide enough for the carriages to pass.
“Lord, take these provisions for the journey!”
“This is an old hen from our farm—perfect for stewing soup. Take it home and enjoy, Lord!”
“Lord, if you don’t accept it, are you looking down on us?!”
Though they cleared the way, the enthusiastic crowd eagerly pressed their gifts upon Zhu Ping’an.
They were overwhelmingly warm.
Each person was determined to stuff their offerings into Zhu Ping’an’s arms, each with heartfelt enthusiasm and reasons he couldn’t refuse.
Zhu Ping’an approached an elderly woman with white hair and accepted a chipped ceramic bowl from her hands.
Then, he took a steamed cake from an old man, bit into it, and drank from the bowl of water.
In no time, he had finished the cake and drained the bowl.
“Dear elders and townsfolk, you are my providers, my sustenance. Having eaten this cake and drunk this water, I’ve taken your kindness into my heart. It’s more than enough. As I head to Zhejiang, I swear I will not bring shame to the people of Suzhou,” Zhu Ping’an said loudly, wiping his mouth and returning the bowl to the old woman, clasping his hands to address the crowd.
By taking the initiative to eat a cake and drink a bowl of water, Zhu Ping’an cleverly aligned his actions with his words, calling the people his providers. This made it easier for the crowd to accept his refusal of their other heartfelt gifts.
“You can refuse the provisions, but you *must* accept this People’s Umbrella—it’s the heartfelt gift of our community, Lord Zhu!”
“And ours too!”
“Ours as well!”
By the time Zhu Ping’an’s convoy resumed its journey, the carriages were laden with nearly a hundred People’s Umbrellas, each adorned with strips of cloth bearing names.
“Giggle, Brother Zhu, you could make a fortune selling umbrellas,” Li Shu teased, chuckling inside the carriage.
“Such overwhelming kindness—what am I to do with so many umbrellas?” Zhu Ping’an said, rubbing his forehead, feeling overwhelmed.
“Giggle, other officials leaving their posts dread not receiving a single People’s Umbrella. Some even refuse to leave until they get one, or they pay people to present them with a few. But you—you’re fretting over what to do with so many. Truly, the well-fed don’t know the hunger of the starving,” Li Shu teased, laughing delicately.
“How about this: when we reach Shaoxing, we’ll have someone remove the name strips and anonymously distribute the umbrellas to the common people. That way, they’ll serve a purpose,” Zhu Ping’an said with a wry smile.
“Miss, are there really officials who don’t receive even one People’s Umbrella? Doesn’t that mean they haven’t done a single good deed?” Hua’er asked curiously.
Seeing Zhu Ping’an receive so many People’s Umbrellas, she had assumed they were easy to come by. Learning that some officials received none shocked her, prompting her question.
“Do you think People’s Umbrellas are that easy to get? Plenty of officials don’t receive them—corrupt officials, incompetent ones, none of them get a single umbrella. The people have a scale in their hearts. Only officials who govern well and benefit the people receive People’s Umbrellas,” Li Shu said, peering through a crack in the carriage window at the reluctant crowd chasing after the convoy to see them off.
“If it were me, I wouldn’t give them a People’s Umbrella either. If they don’t do good, it’s generous enough not to pelt them with rotten eggs,” Hua’er said empathetically.
“The people don’t dare throw rotten eggs in their faces, but once they’re gone, it’s common for them to beat gongs, light firecrackers, and celebrate. In ancient times, there was a corrupt county magistrate who did no good and committed every evil. When he left his post, the people couldn’t hold back. They presented him with a plaque inscribed with ‘The Sky is Three Feet Higher’,” Li Shu said, sharing a story of a corrupt official’s departure.
“What? He did no good and only evil, yet they gave him a plaque? ‘The Sky is Three Feet Higher’—that’s praising him as taller than the heavens! That’s letting him off too easily,” Hua’er said indignantly, feeling the people were far too lenient with the corrupt official.
“Giggle, the corrupt magistrate was thrilled when he received the plaque. He couldn’t stop grinning, thinking it was the people’s praise, that his governance had made the sky three feet higher—a testament to his great rule. On his way to his new post, he proudly displayed the plaque to everyone. At his new office, he hung it outside the yamen, draped in red silk. Oddly, many who saw it covered their mouths and laughed. When they whispered to others who weren’t laughing, those people started laughing too,” Li Shu continued, chuckling as she looked at the bewildered Hua’er.
“Huh? Why did people laugh when they saw his plaque?” Hua’er asked, scratching her head in confusion.
“Giggle, that corrupt magistrate was as clueless as you,” Li Shu said, laughing uncontrollably.
“Miss, tell me quick—what’s the deal with that plaque?” Hua’er asked, her curiosity clawing at her like a cat.
“Miss, I can’t figure out the plaque’s meaning either,” Qin’er admitted, equally puzzled.
“Silly girls, ‘The Sky is Three Feet Higher’—why is the sky three feet higher? Because that corrupt magistrate scraped three feet of earth from the land! The people were mocking him,” Li Shu explained.
“Oh, I see! Giggle, that corrupt official didn’t even realise he was being ridiculed and kept showing off his plaque. What a fool! Oh, and Miss, did he ever find out?” Hua’er asked, giggling after the explanation, then eagerly inquiring about the official’s fate.
“He found out. A new aide he hired half a month later told him. He was so furious he smashed the plaque and burned it, but it was too late. The whole city knew he was a greedy, foolish corrupt official,” Li Shu said, smiling.
“Serves him right! Giggle!” The carriage erupted in cheerful laughter.
