The Wang family and Madam Wang-Zhang, holding Wang Qiong tightly, were filled with unease, their emotions rising and falling with the jolting of the carriage, unable to calm for a long time.
While they were hurrying along in the carriage, the grand ceremony for the military oath and departure in Shaoxing City had already concluded smoothly.
However, it was merely the end of the ceremony; the campaign to set out and fight had only just begun.
“Lord Governor, you are willing to lead the Zhejiang army to strike against the Japanese pirates, risking your life for us! How could we remain unmoved? I’m a cloth merchant and have brought five hundred bolts of silk. I wish to donate these five hundred bolts to your army. I’ve heard that the demoted Tartars’ barbarian cavalry often wear a layer of silk close to their skin, so that even if they’re struck by arrows on the battlefield, the arrowheads—even barbed ones—can be easily removed.”
“I’m just a small cloth merchant; five hundred bolts of silk isn’t much, but it’s my heartfelt gesture. Please, Lord Governor, don’t look down on it or refuse it, lest you hurt this commoner’s sincere patriotic heart.”
A middle-aged man dressed as a shopkeeper stepped forward, speaking with fervent excitement.
Before Zhu Ping’an could respond, the shopkeeper frantically waved to the outside, shouting, “Bring it over, bring it over! Hurry and bring the silk! Once the Japanese pirates are defeated and peace is won, we’ll earn tenfold, a hundredfold, in silk!”
Following his gesture, the crowd saw a convoy in the distance quickly approaching as he waved.
The onlookers instinctively parted to make way.
“No, no, this won’t do! I can’t accept such a reward without merit,” Zhu Ping’an said, repeatedly waving his hands in polite refusal.
“Lord Governor, if you don’t accept it, are you saying my silk is too little?” the silk shopkeeper asked, looking hurt.
“No, that’s not it…” Zhu Ping’an hurriedly explained.
“If it’s not, then Lord Governor, you’re accepting it! Quick, quick, I’m donating the carts and horses to your army as well!”
The shopkeeper spoke urgently, as if afraid Zhu Ping’an would refuse.
“This… this is truly too generous,” Zhu Ping’an said, clasping his hands and bowing repeatedly to thank the silk shopkeeper.
“Lord Governor, you’re embarrassing this commoner! What I’ve done is nothing. You, Lord Governor, face swords and spears without fear, and the Zhejiang army sacrifices without hesitation. For the sake of our peaceful days, you go to the front lines to fight the Japanese pirates. It’s we who should be thanking you!”
The silk shopkeeper spoke with fervent excitement.
“Everyone, don’t you agree?” the shopkeeper turned to the surrounding commoners and asked.
“Yes, yes, yes! The shopkeeper is absolutely right. Lord Governor and the Zhejiang army soldiers risk their lives to fight the Japanese pirates, all for us. The fact that we can live our lives and do business here is all thanks to Lord Governor and the soldiers!”
“Exactly! Our peaceful days are earned by Lord Governor and the soldiers shedding blood and laying down their lives at the front…”
“I want to contribute too! I’m not as wealthy as the shopkeeper, but I’ll donate thirty taels of silver as a small gesture.”
“I’ll donate too! I’ll donate a sack of rice—rice grown by my family, fragrant and delicious…”
“And me, and me! I’ll donate a horse…”
Suddenly, the crowd seemed to have been switched on, enthusiastically chiming in, with many eagerly joining in to donate.
“Lord, you see? This is the will of the people! As our parent-official, you mustn’t go against the people’s will,” the silk shopkeeper said, seizing the moment.
“Yes, this is the will of the people!”
“Lord Governor, you can’t refuse us!”
The crowd of commoners echoed in agreement.
“With such overwhelming sentiment, how can I refuse the kindness of all you elders and villagers? I humbly accept. I promise here that every coin, every grain of rice, will be used for the Zhejiang army soldiers and in the fight against the Japanese pirates!”
Faced with the crowd’s fervent enthusiasm and the surging will of the people, Zhu Ping’an found it impossible to refuse and could only accept graciously.
He continued, “At the same time, to honour the patriotic spirit of all you elders and villagers, I have decided to establish a Roll of Honour here, listing the names of donors and their contributions. Every commoner who donates will have their name recorded on it.”
This was the Roll of Honour.
The crowd below was already eagerly donating, but upon hearing that Zhu Ping’an would establish a_roll of Honour where every donor’s name would be listed, their enthusiasm and excitement multiplied a hundredfold.
“I’ll donate eighty taels of silver!”
“I’ll donate a pig!”
“I’ll donate one tael of silver. It’s not much, but it’s my heartfelt contribution. This year, I’ll work harder to earn more silver!”
The commoners shouted eagerly, competing to donate.
“Many thanks to all you elders and villagers,” Zhu Ping’an said, thanking the crowd. Then, using materials at hand, he took a large sheet of red rice paper from the sacrificial altar and, with bold strokes, wrote three large characters at the top: “Roll of Honour.”
Next, he added a subtitle below: “On the 23rd day of the first month of the Xin Hai year of the Jiajing era, in recognition of those who generously donated for the country, inscribed by Zhu Ping’an, Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of War and Governor of Zhejiang, before the Qidao Temple, to commend their contributions.”
After finishing, Zhu Ping’an had the large red rice paper posted on the noticeboard at the Qidao Temple’s archway.
What a coincidence—the length and width of the red rice paper perfectly matched the noticeboard’s dimensions, occupying a quarter of its space.
Seeing the “Roll of Honour” title and inscription written by Zhu Ping’an himself, and hearing someone literate read it aloud, the commoners were thrilled, their blood boiling with excitement.
This was the Roll of Honour title and inscription written by Lord Governor himself!
And listen—Lord Governor referred to the donors as “shi” (gentlemen/scholars) on the Roll of Honour.
“Shi”—men of ambition, talent, wisdom, virtue, learning, benevolence, and generosity—what a noble, honourable, and prestigious title!
“Donors of distinction”—Lord Governor called us “shi”!
As long as we donate to support the army, we can be listed on it and become “donors of distinction.”
In the future, when drinking and chatting with friends, we’ll have something to boast about: “In the Xin Hai year, Lord Governor, the great official of the Ministry, called me a ‘donor of distinction.’”
Even when we’re old, unable to walk, sitting by the wall basking in the sun, we can tell our grandchildren about that year’s glory.
The commoners’ blood surged with enthusiasm.
“May I ask this shopkeeper’s esteemed name?” Zhu Ping’an asked, holding a brush, addressing the first donor—the “big brother” of the list.
“This commoner is Wang Xiao’er—no, no, ahem, Xiao’er is my nickname. My proper name is Wang Daqing,” the shopkeeper blurted out, then realised his mistake, sheepishly waving his hand and correcting himself.
“Wang Daqing—great fortune and celebration. Shopkeeper Wang, a fine name,” Zhu Ping’an said with a smile, praising his name. Then, he wrote in the first column: “Wang Daqing, donated five hundred bolts of silk.”
The silk shopkeeper was so excited he could hardly speak, his face glowing with pride.
The crowd was filled with envy and grew even more excited, waving their hands and donating eagerly, the scene nearly spiralling out of control.
Zhu Ping’an called for three clerks to record names before the Roll of Honour, but they were still short-handed. He then recruited five volunteers from the crowd who could write well, barely managing to keep up.
Not far away, in a private room of a teahouse, Li Shu, Hua’er, and Qin’er stood by the window watching the scene. Hua’er covered her mouth and said, “Big Brother Wang seems a bit nervous, doesn’t he?”
“He’s such an idiot! We rehearsed so many times, and he still got it wrong,” Li Shu said, rolling her eyes.
