A Prophet - Chapter 17 (Part 6)

Chapter 6 - The Ten Great Jianghu Swindles

Wind, horse, swallow, sparrow, porcelain, gold, review, skin, color, and hanging—these are the ten great jianghu swindles, referring not only to ten major categories of scams, but also to the ten types of swindlers or gangs who practice them.

Wind, also known as "bee," implies from the very character that it is a group operation. Like a swarm of bees, they surge forward in a dense mass and scatter in an instant, arriving quickly and leaving just as fast. Let us take an example.

During the late Qing Dynasty, official corruption was rampant, and many officials who ran afoul of the law would grease palms at every level, spending vast fortunes to avert disaster. A certain governor from Shanxi was reported for embezzlement and corruption, throwing his entire household into a panicked frenzy. Just as he was scrambling to gather silver to pull strings, he suddenly discovered that a group of strangers had arrived in the city and secretly taken lodgings at an inn. These men were all dressed in extraordinary attire and spoke with a distinct Beijing accent. One look, and the governor understood: "These are people from the imperial Censorate in the capital! They've come to investigate me! I know how this game is played."

The next day, the governor dispatched men to deliver a message to the inn, requesting an audience.

The messenger entered the inn and, while delivering the message, observed the situation of those men. The group deliberately projected an air of alertness, stating that they were on urgent official business and could not receive visitors.

The messenger was turned away, and he hurried back to report. Once the governor heard this, he was certain in his heart. The next day, he prepared twenty thousand taels in silver banknotes and had them sent over.

After delivering the twenty thousand taels of silver banknotes, the messenger brought back a length of "three-foot white silk."

Upon seeing it, the governor turned pale with fright: "This is the intent from above—to hang myself."

Wracking his brains, the governor scraped together funds from every possible source to pull together another twenty thousand taels, sending it over before dawn broke. This time, the messenger brought back a string of official button adornments for an official hat, along with a string of jade peace pendants.

The governor took one look and breathed a sigh of relief, knowing his head was saved: "Stripped of my official buttons and demoted to a commoner." But having spent forty thousand taels of silver, he couldn't just become an ordinary commoner like that. He decided to lobby further, pulling out his family's cat's-eye jade bracelets and jade pendants to smooth things over, hoping perhaps to secure a post as a county magistrate. Given enough time, the wealth he had scattered would eventually find its way back.

Once that group of men received these items, knowing that the governor had emptied his entire household estate, they vanished swiftly.

The governor sat waiting for news, but instead, he soon welcomed the genuine officials from the Censorate. Seeing that the officials in charge of investigation had actually arrived at his doorstep, the governor assumed the matter was naturally resolved and hurried forward with a beaming, smiling face: "I had no idea Your Honor was arriving; I failed to welcome you from afar!"

The Censorate officials found this governor incomprehensible. Death was staring him in the face, yet he was still this cheerful; his psychological resilience was out of the ordinary—he was an old fox indeed.

"Why don't Governor tell us himself!" The Censorate official wanted the governor to confess voluntarily.

Hearing this, the governor's joy blossomed, assuming he was being asked to pick an official post: "Ah, Your Honor, a fifth-rank prefectural governor will suffice! If that's truly impossible, I'll return to my hometown to serve as a county magistrate."

The Censorate official froze: "What on earth are you talking about?"

"What is Your Honor implying?"

"This fellow's mind is completely deranged. Drag him away to the capital for retrial!" At a single command from the inspecting official, Qing soldiers swarmed forward and bound the governor.

At that moment, the governor felt a sudden flash of enlightenment and wailed aloud: "A dog eats dog world, you're vicious enough! You took my forty thousand taels of silver banknotes and now you're turning your back on me and denying it all!"

The Censorate official was so infuriated his nose nearly went crooked: "You scoundrel, you still dare to fling false accusations! Beat him!"

By this time, that gang of swindlers had long since fled far away. Even after being placed on nationwide wanted lists for a long time, the authorities never managed to capture them. This is "wind"—arriving in a flash, scattering in a flash.

By the time the Third Gang Leader finished this story, everyone was already laughing so hard their stomachs hurt, and even the normally dejected Fourth Gang Leader, Zhang Zijian, cracked a smile.

The Third Gang Leader took a sip of tea and proceeded to lecture on "horse."

Horse refers to operating as a lone wolf—swindling by oneself, contrasting with the gang-style swindling of "wind." Such a person disguises themselves either as a Daoist priest or a Buddhist monk, giving people the impression of an otherworldly master of the Dao. During the late Qing Dynasty, a case like this occurred in Qiantang: There was a prominent wealthy figure surnamed Zhang who was known for his benevolence and charity, earning him the title of "Goodman Zhang." One day, a monk-like figure appeared before Goodman Zhang's gates and shouted at the top of his lungs: "Give me one hundred taels of silver!"

Goodman Zhang opened the door and took a look: "Who on earth are you? Why should I give you one hundred taels of silver?"

"If you don't give it, I won't leave!" With that, the monk sat down right in front of Goodman Zhang's doorstep. It was the dead of winter, with biting cold winds and raging blizzards.

Goodman Zhang said, "High monk, if you have something to say, please come inside."

"No." The monk sat cross-legged, closing his eyes to calm his mind.

For three days and three nights, he remained motionless, not a single drop of water or grain of rice passing his lips. Everyone assumed this monk had frozen to death, but when they stepped closer, they noticed his breathing was steady and his complexion was ruddy. Everyone exclaimed in astonishment: "A true high monk! An ordinary person would have frozen or starved to death by now!"

Goodman Zhang still refused to give him money.

The monk opened his eyes and said to Goodman Zhang, "Do you believe I can strike you dead with the Tathagata Palm?"

"Buddhism values compassion; a high monk wouldn't strike me dead," Goodman Zhang said with a smile.

The monk glanced sideways at Goodman Zhang: "Let me show you a thing or two!" With that, he pressed his palms together, then rubbed them fiercely. Instantly, his hands were enveloped by a ball of blue flame, yet the monk showed not the slightest sign of pain.

The onlookers were dumbfounded: "An immortal!"

Goodman Zhang still refused.

Running out of options, the monk pulled out a length of rope, tied it to Goodman Zhang's door knocker, set it ablaze, and shouted, "I shall burn you to death with the Three-Pure True Fire!" Having said that, he hoisted his backside and walked away.

The onlookers watched in astonishment as the rope continued to burn without ever breaking, prompting them to advise Goodman Zhang: "This is a true immortal; you'd better just comply with him."

Goodman Zhang merely smiled without a word.

Two evenings later, that monk quietly returned and knocked on Goodman Zhang's door.

"How did you see through it?" the monk asked.

Goodman Zhang chuckled: "If you hadn't resorted to those tricks, I might have given you a few coins. But with you pulling a stunt like that, I actually wanted to play along with you. I, Goodman Zhang, am not blindly foolish. If I blindly handed over money to everyone who showed up at my door, wouldn't I be an idiot?"

"Heh." The monk laughed.

"You went three days and three nights without eating or drinking, neither starving nor freezing to death. Others didn't understand why, but I figured it out. When you first arrived at my doorstep, you wore a string of arhat beads around your neck. I counted them, and there were thirty-six beads. Three days later, there were only thirty. Those beads were all made of ginseng, possessing the properties of warding off the cold, keeping warm, and resisting illness to prolong life. You ate two beads every day, which is why you were fine. Most people wouldn't pay attention to the number of beads on your neck, but I did."

"Haha." The monk laughed again.

"Your Tathagata Palm was actually just flour smeared across your hands, mixed with yellow phosphorus. Yellow phosphorus ignites spontaneously and doesn't burn your skin. And that rope that kept burning without breaking was simply soaked in brine beforehand—we all understand these tricks."

"Ha ha ha ha!" The monk burst into hearty laughter. "We wouldn't have crossed paths if we hadn't clashed! Goodman Zhang, considering how much painstaking effort I went through to swindle you, if I didn't earn any credit, I at least put in the hard labor. Won't you bestow a couple of coins upon me?"

Goodman Zhang smiled faintly: "With that kind of intelligence, wouldn't it be better to do some honest work?" As he spoke, he produced a lump of silver and handed it to her—er, him. "Go and do some proper work."

The monk took the silver, threw his head back in laughter, and walked out the door.

Afterward, Goodman Zhang pondered carefully: "Ah, I was swindled after all."

When the Third Gang Leader reached this point, the First Gang Leader laughed and said, "This monk is far inferior to Grandpa. It's all just staged props without an ounce of intelligence."

Grandpa smiled and shook his head: "He still got the money into his hands, after all."

The Third Gang Leader continued on to "swallow."

Swallow, also known as "face," refers to beauty, derived from the saying "a face like jade." "Swallow" denotes those who specialize in setting up scams using physical beauty. It does not refer solely to beautiful women, but also to handsome men—women swindling men, and men swindling women. As long as a lustful heart is stirred, the victim will take the bait. During the late Qing Dynasty, many Bannermen were derelict in their duties, and some Beile princes had nothing to do, wandering around the Eight Great Hutons all day long, drinking flower-wine and sleeping in brothels. This was the moment when female swindlers could exploit the openings.

Such swindlers possessed high cultivation and erudition, understanding the guqin, chess, calligraphy, and painting, knowing how to compose poetry and lyrics, and occasionally discoursing freely on major affairs of state or passionately analyzing the global situation, all while projecting the helpless air of a tragic fate driven to the willow lanes of the pleasure quarters.

The Beile prince had a weakness for precisely this type: "Why does the young lady let out such long sighs?"

"Your Lordship wouldn't understand. Little girl hails originally from such-and-such a place, but due to the decline of my family fortunes, I drifted here and ended up in the dust."

A brilliant thought struck the Beile prince: "How about I redeem you?"

"I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare. Little girl is a lowly person."

"You are being too modest, my lady. It's just that you cannot enter my main residence; I can only purchase a house in the suburbs of Beijing, and you can only serve as a concubine," the Beile prince plotted.

"If that is the case... little girl is willing to serve Your Lordship as a beast of burden!" The female swindler burst into tears and dropped to her knees.

"Quickly rise! I have five hundred taels in silver banknotes right here—take them and redeem yourself!"

"Many thanks!" The young lady accepted the silver banknotes, bolted out the door like a wisp of smoke, and her husband, waiting outside, hurriedly helped her change clothes and apply disguise. The two of them fled the capital under the cover of night.

When morning arrived, the Beile prince saw that the young lady had yet to return. Only then did he realize something was amiss, but it was already far too late!

"Ha ha ha ha." Hearing this, the Second Gang Leader laughed uncontrollably. "What an idiot. If it were me, I'd knock that woman out with soul-scattering powder first, and then ravish her before doing anything else."

Grandpa smiled and said, "The character for lust has a blade poised right above it. Whether man or woman, once blinded by the obsession of lust, disaster will strike sooner or later."

"Grandpa's teaching is correct." The Third Gang Leader continued, "Next, we shall discuss 'sparrow.' This is the most scheming of them all!"

Sparrow, also known as "vacancy," signifies a gap—referring to a vacant position in the official bureaucracy. Wherever a vacancy opens up, someone will mount their horse and rush in to fill it.

Grand-scale scams of this nature required mobilizing numerous elements and contacting many people. The mastermind plotted and strategized behind the scenes until the trap was successfully laid, walking away loaded with wealth only afterward.

The perpetrators of this scam generally consisted of the following roles: A beautiful young matron, breathtakingly lovely and well-read, gentle as water on the outside but venomously ruthless at heart; a private secretary, whose true identity was often the beautiful young matron's husband or illicit lover—in short, the two engaged in a tacitly understood, adulterous partnership, acting hand in glove; a prop artisan, highly skilled in carving official seals and fabricating official credentials and official chops; an assassin, a role frequently played by the private secretary himself, though sometimes a dedicated assassin was used, provided they were close to the matron and the secretary, usually a disciple or biological son; and finally, a foolish bird—an impoverished scholar possessed of soaring ambitions to serve his country, yet entirely devoid of any pathway to do so.

In the early years of the Republic, such a scam surfaced in western Sichuan.

First, the private secretary gathered intelligence to see which county magistrate was about to move to a new post. The moment a position became vacant, it meant a new county magistrate would need to step in to fill the role. At that time, buying and selling official posts was rampant; sometimes a single person concurrently held the magistracies of seven or eight counties, and new and departing magistrates came and went so frequently that ordinary folk had no way of knowing who the actual magistrate was. Furthermore, county magistrates back then assumed office relying solely on a single letter of appointment; as long as they brought along their private secretary, they could begin handling official duties, and nobody could tell whether the documents were real or fake.

The private secretary first found out where a new magistrate was supposed to take office, then gathered information and addresses on various impoverished scholars in the surrounding area, and finally set the trap in motion.

On the very day the newly appointed county magistrate set out to assume office, the private secretary arranged for an assassin to lie in wait along the magistrate's route, planting landmines to blow him to pieces, after which they simply took the official credentials and left.

Once the magistrate was eliminated, they went looking for the impoverished scholar they had targeted beforehand.

The scholar was sitting at home with nothing to do when a knock sounded at his door. Opening it, he saw the private secretary step forward and say, "Sir, my mistress has fallen upon hard times; might we impose upon your estate to lodge for a single night?"

Scholars were generally sentimental. Seeing the alluring figure of the matron standing behind the old man, a surge of pity welled up within him: "Come inside first and we can talk."

"What do you folks do? Why have you been reduced to wandering here?" the scholar asked.

"Sigh..." The lady lowered her head, weeping as she stepped into the inner room.

"Sigh!" The private secretary began to speak. "Sir, please listen to me. We came here to assume the post of county magistrate. My master spent forty thousand taels of silver to purchase this magisterial position. I am his private secretary, and today I accompanied my master's entire family to take office, but unexpectedly we ran into bandits in the mountains. They blew up my master's sedan chair, killing him instantly, and plundered all our money and valuables. Now, only the mistress and her underage son remain." With that, he pointed toward the assassin who had killed the magistrate earlier that day.

"Oh," the scholar nodded, his sympathy instantly flaring up. "That is truly pitiful."

"Now that the master is gone, we have no idea what to do," the private secretary wept, immediately following up with, "What does Sir do for a living?"

The scholar let out a long sigh: "I am a xiucai of the final Qing Dynasty imperial examinations. Later, I failed the juren examinations, and subsequently the imperial examinations were abolished. Now I am over thirty years old and have accomplished nothing at all."

"Oh?" the private secretary said in feigned surprise. "Sir is a man deeply read in books!"

"I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare." The scholar blushed.

The private secretary pretended to ponder for a moment, then suddenly cried out, "Mistress, there is hope! There is hope!"

The exclamation startled the scholar: "What is the old gentleman talking about?"

The private secretary said tearfully, "Sir, only you can save my mistress."

"Why does the old gentleman say such a thing?"

"Sir, please listen to me. My master spent half a lifetime of savings just to buy this official post, yet he died without serving a single day—it is a terrible injustice. We've spent the money, smoothed over the connections, and everything was ready except for the actual assumption of office. Right now, my mistress is a lone widow with an orphan, lacking both money and manpower, completely helpless. If... if Sir does not mind, you could take my mistress as your wife, and then take the official credentials to assume office! Sir is a man deeply read in books, and you surely understand the strategies for governing and securing the country. Governing this small county will be as easy as cooking small fish! That way, our money wasn't spent in vain, the mistress finds someone to lean upon, and once Sir takes office, you can fully display your talents and realize your grand ambition of serving the country. Isn't that killing three birds with one stone?" The private secretary stared at the scholar as he finished speaking.

Upon hearing this, the scholar nearly urinated from sheer bliss, yet he put on a cold expression and rebuked: "What kind of nonsense is the old gentleman uttering! Your mistress is currently in distress, yet instead of plotting expedient measures as her private secretary, you are instigating such licentious behavior. What are your true intentions?"

These swindlers had long since thoroughly analyzed the psychology of an impoverished scholar. The private secretary thought to himself: Who are you trying to fool with that act?

At that moment, the matron parted the bead curtain, stepped out in tears, and said to the private secretary, "Sir is a man of deep learning and lofty integrity. A defiled woman like me is completely unworthy of Sir."

Realizing he couldn't keep up the act any longer—if he feigned reluctance any further, the opportunity would fly away—the scholar hurriedly intervened: "My lady, your words do me a grave injustice. I harbor no disdain toward you... it's just... it's just..."

The matron wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes and called out with melting affection, "—Sir—"

The scholar felt his entire body go weak with delight.

The private secretary burst into laughter: "Heaven leaves no dead end! Heaven favors the bold, Heaven favors the bold!"

Just like that, the scholar consummated his marriage with the matron, and subsequently set off to assume his post as magistrate, full of ambition, casting proud glances all around, eager to unleash all his talents at once to fulfill the grand ambitions he had bottled up for so long.

In the financial room, the private secretary and the matron sinisterly calculated their gains. Barely a few months after the scholar took office, the two of them concocted various pretexts to extort over ten thousand taels of silver.

By day, the scholar handled cases; by night, he embraced his beauty, reaching the pinnacle of bliss. Later, the private secretary presented him with an opium pipe, claiming the contraption would refresh the mind and invigorate male vitality. Soon, the scholar began smoking opium as well. Tossed about like this for a year, worn down by official paperwork, nocturnal bedroom exertion, and the ravages of opium, the scholar withered down to a bag of bones, hovering on the brink of death. Seeing that the fellow had no further utility, the private secretary and the matron waited until he fell into a stupor at night, smothered him to death with a pillow, and then packed up all the silver banknotes and fled far away.

The local townsfolk went several days without seeing the county magistrate, and discontent filled the air. When the higher authorities caught wind of the situation, they hurriedly dispatched officials to conduct a surprise inspection. Pushing open the gates of the county yamen, they found it completely empty. Pressing further into the inner quarters, a sickening stench hit them head-on—the scholar-magistrate had already rotted and was crawling with maggots.

When the Third Gang Leader reached this point, Grandpa let out a long sigh: "This is a true case. Later, the Nationalist government even investigated the incident, but in the end they never found that gang of swindlers. Ah, all past evil karma created stems entirely from beginningless greed, anger, and delusion. The Buddhist scriptures are entirely correct: human nature is extremely fragile. The moment greed, delusion, and anger arise, they open the gates to welcome in wickedness. Liaofan's Four Lessons states: Destinies are created by Heaven, but our lot is fashioned by ourselves; calamities and blessings have no gateways, we invite them upon ourselves. All disasters are brought upon oneself."

"We could pull off a scam like this too, and we'd do it even better!" the Second Gang Leader suddenly piped up.

Grandpa shook his head: "We do not do things that harm loyal and righteous people. Retribution will catch up to us sooner or later."

"Wind, horse, swallow, sparrow, porcelain, gold, review, skin, color, hanging—we've covered four of them. What about the rest? Keep going!" Little Liu pressed eagerly.

The Third Gang Leader took a sip of tea and said, "Don't be impatient, Sixth Brother. We will continue with porcelain."

Porcelain refers to professional scam-artists who stage collisions. This trick is popular around the Tianjin area: as you walk down the street, an old woman deliberately hurls herself at you while hugging a porcelain vase, causing the two of you to collide. The old woman crashes to the ground, smashing the vase into smithereens, and collapses unconscious. At that moment, the old woman's eldest son, second son, third son, and even her grandsons and great-grandsons will suddenly pop out from the surrounding crowd, wailing and crying for their mother while shouting to report you to the authorities! At this juncture, a kind-hearted soul will invariably emerge from the crowd to advise you that when dealing with such poor folk, you'd better spend a bit of money to avert disaster, because once the yamen gets involved, things will blow up into a massive issue. Better just give her a few dozen taels of silver to dismiss them. Once you empty your pockets and hand over all the silver you're carrying, they will hoist the old woman onto their backs and leave, claiming they're off to see a doctor, though in reality they go split the money in secret.

"What if these porcelain-stagers actually bump into someone connected to officialdom? What do they do?" the Sixth Gang Leader suddenly asked.

"What do they do?" The Third Gang Leader raised an eyelid. "They chalk it up to bad luck! Once, a few blockheads bumped into Li Hongzhang, who was traveling incognito in Tianjin. They lay rolling on the ground and refused to get up, until the guards arrived and declared, 'Since you don't want to get up, you never have to get up again!' Those fellows saw that things were taking a ominous turn, scrambled up from the ground in a hurry, and hugged Li Hongzhang's thighs, claiming they were just joking around and playing a prank. Was Li Hongzhang a man who went around joking with people? He had those bird-brained fellows directly arrested and dealt with by law!"

"Ha ha ha ha..." The gang leaders burst into a chorus of laughter.

The Third Gang Leader resumed his lively banter: "Gold refers to fortune-tellers, meaning people like us; review refers to street-corner storytellers. To attract larger audiences, sustain their storytelling longer, and earn a few extra coins for congee, they often drag a single plotline out for three to five years, embellishing short stories with wild fabrications from official and unofficial histories, spouting nonsense about things that never happened. Their sole objective is to beguile ordinary folk into listening with rapt attention so their stream of revenue never dries up. Skin refers to street-vendor medicine sellers who carry all sorts of miraculous elixirs in gourds, claiming they can cure all ailments. For impoverished folks who cannot afford medical care, these are lifesavers; for swindlers, they are tools of the trade. Color refers to sleight-of-hand magicians—what Westerners call magic—where pigeons suddenly fly out of sleeves, smoke billows from the head, objects are materialized out of thin air, and white lotuses are spat from the mouth, all of which are deceptive tricks. Hanging refers to street performers who combine martial arts exhibitions with selling folk medicine. They first use a heavy sledgehammer to smash a massive stone resting on their own chests, then drive swords and blades into their throats, or split bricks with a single palm strike, or fish copper coins out of boiling oil. Afterward, they boast about how formidable their qigong is, attribute it all to their 'Strong-Man Pills,' and immediately begin peddling their medicine. It's all deception..."

That night, the brothers of the hall felt as though they had taken a stroll through the old jianghu. The Third Gang Leader spoke with flourishing gestures and radiant enthusiasm, while the brothers listened, utterly entranced. Years later, these swindling techniques were exposed one by one in Beijing's Shiyan Daily by a benevolent man using the pen name "Cloud Traveler," and were subsequently compiled into a volume titled A Comprehensive Discussion of the Jianghu. This "Cloud Traveler" was none other than the late, renowned storytelling performing artist, senior gentleman Lian Kuoruo. Over the years, the contents of A Comprehensive Discussion of the Jianghu have been repeatedly adapted, giving rise to traditional crosstalk routines such as The Bee, the Horse, the Swallow, and the Sparrow, which continue to be passed down to this day.