Chapter 29: Traveling to Chengdu

Close your eyes, the first spoonful of broth scalded his tongue into numbness, but immediately followed by the distinctive freshness of mutton, mingled with the spice of Sichuan pepper, exploding in his mouth.

The meat chunks were stewed to tenderness, nearly melting on the tongue; the fat seeping from the fibers blended perfectly with the barley rice, each bite a supreme delight for one who had long gone without meat.

He then scooped up some tofu, dipped it in the broth, and put it in his mouth—the bean aroma intertwined with the meaty scent, silky smooth, barely needing to be chewed.

“Honestly, Lu Beigu,” Zhang Cheng lowered his voice and leaned forward, “how did you do it? Jump straight from 198th to 9th? You didn’t see the faces of He Cong and his lot—they looked like they’d swallowed flies.”

Lu Beigu swallowed his food and thought a moment: “There’s no secret really—posting classics is just memorization. Every morning I go through the Analects section by section. As for the essay questions, you need to study hard to understand them.”

Lu Guangyu said: “Thanks to you, Lu Beigu, I didn’t waste the Cold Food Festival break. My recent ten-day test score improved significantly—I rose from 32nd to 24th.”

“Yes, these morning study sessions have been very effective.”

Zhang Cheng agreed: “Today during the posting classics exam, as soon as I saw familiar characters, I silently recited them right away.”

After thoroughly enjoying a hearty lunch, just as Lu Beigu was leaning back, belly full, ready to nap, a minor clerk walked into the communal dining hall.

“Lu Beigu? Pack your things. Come with me to the county yamen to meet the Prefect.”

In the front hall of Hejiang County Yamen, Li Pan was reviewing a document.

“Your Excellency,” Lu Beigu bowed, the motion slightly awkward.

Li Pan nodded slightly: “I hear you did well in this ten-day test?”

“Thanks to Your Excellency’s instruction, this student has been fortunate enough to make some progress.”

“Fortunate?” Li Pan chuckled, picking up a document from his desk. “The School Director reports you scored Yi Upper on posting classics, Yi Lower on essay questions, ranking ninth overall. From last place to top ten—if that’s just luck, then the two hundred students of this county school are all empty sacks.”

Lu Beigu hadn’t expected Li Pan to know his exact scores so quickly. He was about to reply when he saw Li Pan pull a sealed letter from beside the desk—the wax seal bore a stamp he didn’t recognize.

Lu Beigu silently calculated the time: if Li Pan had sent someone by land and received the reply by water, the round trip would have taken barely over ten days—full speed, no rest.

“Young Master Zhang holds your suggestions in high regard. After I finish these documents, you’ll come with me to Chengdu Prefecture. I’ve already arranged your leave from the county school.”

“Young Master Zhang?” Lu Beigu feigned surprise.

Common folk might flatter scholars by calling them “Young Master,” but when the County Magistrate says it, it’s no joke—only a high-ranking, powerful man deserves that title.

“Yes. Zhang Fangping, Vice Minister of Revenue and Prefect of Chengdu. Have you heard of him?”

For now, we’ll set aside the baffling Song bureaucracy—no modern person understands it, and even Song subjects themselves struggled to distinguish between honorary titles, salary ranks, appointments, postings, merits, and noble ranks.

We’ll only explain two things that matter: “official rank” and “posting.”

Official rank is the salary grade—what level of pay you receive.

Posting is what you actually do—it determines your real power.

Zhang Fangping holds the salary grade of Vice Minister of Revenue while serving as Prefect of Chengdu. In the Song, prefectures, states, supervisory offices, and military districts were theoretically equal in rank, but ordinary regions were states; only important ones became prefectures—like the capital Kaifeng Prefecture, or Jiangning Prefecture, where Emperor Renzong had once been enfeoffed.

Chengdu, as the heart of Sichuan, was upgraded from Yizhou to Chengdu Prefecture in the second year of Baoyuan under Emperor Renzong—seventeen years ago—and has always been governed by high officials dispatched by court to oversee the southwest.

If the appointee is a senior official of second rank or higher, or holds a title from the Secretariat or Privy Council, he is called “Judge of Chengdu Prefecture Affairs.”

Since the Song “road” system still retained its original function as a surveillance region and had not yet fully evolved into an administrative unit, the Prefect of Chengdu in practice wielded enormous influence over the entire Sichuan region.

“Never heard of him,” Lu Beigu pretended ignorance.

He had, of course, read about figures in the Song History, but his knowledge wasn’t deep; moreover, the Song History’s records of Zhang Fangping’s career and tenure were vague, so he hadn’t connected the dots earlier.

Li Pan spoke slowly to Lu Beigu: “When Li Yuanhao rebelled and declared himself, Young Master Zhang submitted the ‘Ten Strategies for Pacifying the Barbarians,’ stating: ‘When the enemy invades, their own strongholds will be weak—advance swiftly with light arms.’ But Chancellor Lyu Yijian ignored it. When the Xia Army launched a full-scale border invasion, our forces were forced into defense—and suffered a crushing defeat at San Chuan Kou.”

Li Pan gave Lu Beigu this background leisurely.

“Later, Young Master Zhang was sent as envoy to Liao under the title of Compiler of Imperial Daily Records. Upon return, he served as Drafting Secretary, Prefect of Kaifeng, and Vice Censor-in-Chief, rising to Director of the Three Departments. He reformed the Hebei salt monopoly—but due to certain matters, he’s been demoted and exiled these past years. I hear there are stirrings in court; next year, Young Master Zhang will likely be restored to his former post.”

Restored to his former post—that meant reinstated as Director of the Three Departments.

In the late Tang, the Salt and Iron, Budget, and Revenue Departments were collectively called the “Three Departments.” The Song inherited this system.

The Director of the Three Departments oversaw the entire empire’s finances, known as the “Finance Chancellor,” ranking just below the Chancellor of the Secretariat and the Director of the Privy Council. He was the key decision-maker in Song fiscal policy, wielding authority over tax collection, military logistics, and state treasury management—truly immense power.

To gain the favor of such a man on the verge of promotion would mean an unfathomably bright future.

“He submitted the ‘Ten Strategies for Pacifying the Barbarians’ and reformed Hebei’s salt monopoly… No wonder Li Prefect was so certain my proposal would win his approval.”

Everything suddenly became clear.

Seeing Lu Beigu understood, Li Pan wasted no more words. He finished his documents and led Lu Beigu out of the yamen.

Two attendants could ride horses all the way to Chengdu Prefecture, but Lu Beigu didn’t know how to ride—so their transport would be a carriage.

As County Magistrate of Hejiang, Li Pan’s rank was low by Song standards, but he was still the sovereign of his county, entitled to proper protocol.

Their carriage was no ordinary rustic vehicle—it was a lacquered wooden carriage, entirely black, with copper fittings at each corner, and deep blue coarse cloth curtains embroidered with simple scrolling vine patterns.

The cabin was small, just enough for two to sit facing each other or recline half-lying, padded inside to ease the jolts of the road.

(End of chapter)