The villagers’ complaints filled the air after hearing the old scholar’s explanation of the new policy.
“Having to report every evening at the hour of the Rooster for roll call? That’s too much hassle! If someone’s away or we have guests, we have to explain everything clearly, or risk being reported to the authorities? That’s just inhumane!”
“My heavens, this is basically collective punishment! If my neighbor commits a crime, why should I be punished too?! That’s outrageous!”
“It’s not that you’re automatically punished if your neighbor commits a crime. If you report them, you’re exempt. But if you don’t, then you’re punished alongside them.”
“Isn’t this just forcing people to snitch? From now on, we’ll have to watch our neighbors like hawks. Any little thing, and we’ll have to report it, or we’ll get dragged into their mess. What kind of nonsense is this?!”
“Mark my words, neighborly relations are going to sour.”
The villagers groaned and grumbled, each adding their own complaints about the policy.
“Enough squawking! This was decided by the Governor himself. It’s effective immediately, so complaining won’t change a thing,” the village chief barked, banging his tobacco pipe loudly to quiet the crowd.
“Sigh, we’re just common folk. Whatever the higher-ups say, we have to do. We can’t fight them…” one villager lamented. “If we were officials, this blasted Ten Households Plaque and Mutual Responsibility Law wouldn’t have a thing to do with us.”
“You’re right. Those officials don’t care about us small folk. This Ten Households Law only makes life harder for us, not them. They just pass down orders without a thought for our survival.”
The villagers couldn’t help but vent again about how troublesome and harsh the Ten Households Plaque and Mutual Responsibility Law was.
“Nonsense! Don’t talk about ‘officials lighting fires while forbidding commoners to light lamps.’ Let me tell you, our Governor himself is leading by example with this law. There’s a plaque hanging right at the entrance of the Governor’s Office, listing everyone in his household, including maids and guards. Even when his father-in-law and two brothers-in-law came to visit the Governor’s wife, they were all registered on the plaque. The Governor, along with ten others from his office, formed a mutual responsibility unit, with the office clerk Wang Zuo as the unit head.”
“Not just the Governor—every official, every gentry, every merchant, no matter how powerful or wealthy, has to form these ten-household units. Everyone’s equal, no exceptions.”
“The Governor said anyone who dares not comply with the mutual responsibility system will be treated as a collaborator with the Japanese pirates and punished severely without mercy!”
The village chief slammed his pipe against the ancestral hall’s partition, shouting to silence the villagers’ complaints.
“What?! The Governor himself is leading the mutual responsibility system and has his plaque up?!”
“No way! Even the powerful and wealthy officials have to follow this Ten Households Law?!”
The villagers were stunned by the news.
“What’s so surprising? My nephew works in Shaoxing City. He just came back to visit and told me himself. Anyone can go to the Governor’s Office and see the plaque hanging at the entrance,” the chief said, thumping his chest, his voice full of conviction, spittle flying onto the faces of those standing close.
“I’m convinced by our Governor. He’s practically the emperor of Zhejiang, yet he’s leading the way with this law. What right do we have to complain? Are we more precious than the Governor himself?”
“Exactly! The Governor handles countless affairs daily, and if he doesn’t find it troublesome, what are we afraid of?”
“Yeah, this is for our own good. Those Japanese pirates are worse than beasts—pure monsters. So many villages have been ravaged by them. Men killed, women—whether elderly or young—violated, homes looted down to the last scrap, and then burned to ashes. If we want peaceful days, we need to wipe out those pirates. Don’t be fooled by short-term gains and collude with them—that’s a death sentence. Let me be clear: those in my mutual responsibility unit, clean up your messes and cut all ties with the pirates, or I’ll report you myself!”
…
Learning that Governor Zhu Ping’an was personally implementing the Ten Households Plaque and Mutual Responsibility Law, the villagers’ initial resistance and complaints turned into support—or at least, they no longer openly opposed it.
Soon, under the organization of the village chief and elders, the village households were grouped into units of ten.
“Chief, our village only has six households left. That’s not enough for ten. How are we supposed to form a unit?”
“We can’t form a unit with too few people! The notice said anyone who doesn’t join a unit will be treated as a pirate collaborator. Oh, my goodness, they won’t treat us as collaborators, will they?!”
The six remaining households, living at the back of the village with no other neighbors, grew frantic. The rest of the village had formed their ten-household units, leaving these six behind.
Seeing they couldn’t form a unit, their faces paled with anxiety.
“What’s the rush? The Governor already anticipated this. For villages forming ten-household units, any remaining households fewer than ten but five or more can form a unit. If there are fewer than five, they join a nearby unit. You six households can form your own unit,” the chief said, glaring at them.
“We can form a unit with six? That’s great!” The six households breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“Let me stress this again: forming these units isn’t just for show. If anyone thinks they can slack off, don’t blame me when you end up in jail! If you spot suspicious people or activities, report them immediately. Don’t hide anything, or when they get caught, you’ll face the same punishment. Let me remind you—colluding with pirates means execution!”
“Even if you don’t care about yourselves, think of your families—your parents, your spouses, your kids. No one escapes the consequences; they’ll all be implicated and executed!”
“And reporting comes with rewards. If you report and you’re wrong, there’s no penalty. But if you’re right and your report uncovers pirates or their collaborators, you’ll be handsomely rewarded. Each confirmed report earns five taels of silver, with no upper limit. Report a hundred people, and that’s five hundred taels. Your family could live in luxury, never worrying about food or clothing again.”
“Report and be rewarded; fail to report, and your whole family suffers. So, if you see anything suspicious, report it! If no one colludes with the pirates, our Governor can wipe them out sooner, and we can all live in peace.”
…
The village chief tirelessly reiterated the consequences of not reporting and the rewards for doing so, urging the villagers to report any suspicious people or activities to avoid family-wide punishment.
“We’ll definitely report! From now on, our unit will stay vigilant. Anyone colluding with pirates is my enemy!”
“Hurry up and get someone to write the plaques. We’ve got roll call at dusk!”
The villagers chimed in enthusiastically.
