Chapter 41: On the Trial Implementation of the Sichuan Pass Salt Certificate System

Hearing these words, Li Pan finally let out the breath he had been holding.

Master Zhang has always handled heavy matters with ease; for him to call someone a “genius of the realm”—what immense recognition is that?

“Your student dares not accept such praise!”

Lu Beigu rose at once to bow, and deep inside, he too finally relaxed.

In modern terms, this meant securitizing the exclusive rights to Sichuan well-salt and Hedong salt, along with military grain transport, to construct a closed-loop system that leveraged the financial properties of salt certificates to allocate resources across regions.

Lu Beigu had been certain from the start that his idea was sound because every component of his system had real-world grounding.

First, the merchants of the southeast purchasing Sichuan well-salt with copper coins was a sight he had witnessed firsthand on his way to Chengdu.

Second, if his memory served, the “Continued Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government” clearly recorded that during Emperor Renzong’s reign, “salt certificates for Hedong salt and Sichuan well-salt each had defined regions”; furthermore, the “Memorial on Bandits in the Jingdong and Beijing Regions” mentioned that “salt certificates circulated in the Three Capitals, but Hedong salt certificates did not reach Sichuan and Shu”—so the regional salt sales system was already current practice.

Third, the Song dynasty’s system of public auctioning and procurement was widespread, and Liu Yan’s transport strategy from the previous Tang dynasty provided a ready precedent: dividing transport into segments to reduce costs was highly feasible.

Finally, the “Collected Drafts of the Song Huiyao: Food and Goods” recorded that in the later years of Emperor Renzong’s reign, the northwest had already begun small-scale resumption of the “Zhong Method,” where grain and forage were exchanged for salt certificates—so there was real demand in the northwest to trade salt certificates for grain.

In sum, under the scale of roughly three million guan in annual salt certificate issuance during Emperor Renzong’s reign, this system was entirely operational!

“As for specific details to adjust, I will convene with Transport Commissioner Zhao and our subordinates to refine and revise it; whether to adopt it and when to implement it—that’s for the chancellors to decide. But we might as well draft it first.”

Zhang Fangping personally brought paper and brush to Lu Beigu’s desk and gave his shoulder a firm pat.

“Write it as you think it should be. Draft it now; we’ll polish it later.”

“Me?”

Lu Beigu was stunned.

He was merely a student from the county school—how could he draft a memorial for the Vice Minister of Revenue and Prefect of Chengdu?

Zhang Fangping said with quiet depth: “With your talent, you will surely become an official one day. How can you not know how to draft a memorial? Consider this your first practice.”

Seeing Li Pan staring straight ahead, eyes downcast, Lu Beigu had no choice but to accept.

Fortunately, according to Song memorial format, drafting a memorial differed little from writing a policy essay; having read many Song memorials, he could manage it.

After all, memorials had no strict metrical rules, unlike poetry, ci, or fu.

After a moment’s thought, Lu Beigu picked up his brush and drafted the memorial for Zhang Fangping.

“Your servant, Vice Minister of Revenue and Prefect of Chengdu, Zhang Fangping, respectfully submits:

On the Trial Implementation of the Sichuan Pass Salt Certificate System.

I have heard that the governance of Yao and Shun lay in adapting to change; the achievements of Tang and Wu lay in fitting measures to circumstances. Now, the garrison troops on the western frontier rely on supplies from ten thousand li away; the frantic transport of grain and forage has exhausted Jianghuai; in Shu, iron coins are clogged and unusable, their value so diminished that even the smallest coinage is impractical, plunging common households into poverty. I believe we must make the profits from mountains and marshes the pivot, wielding the balance of light and heavy to alleviate this crisis.

In ancient times, Guan Zhong boiled seawater and made Qi dominant; Liu Yan monopolized salt and revived Tang. Today, the salt wells of Jiannan produce over ten million jin of salt, piled like hills; the grain and forage consumed in the west each year number millions of shi, draining like a leaking vessel. If we make salt the key and certificates the pivot, allowing copper coins from the southeast to flow along the Shu roads and grain from the east to reach the Wei River, then both problems may be solved.

I humbly propose testing this system in Chengdu and Qinzhou. Each year, Chengdu Prefecture shall allocate well-salt, permitting Jianghuai merchants to enter Shu with copper coins to obtain certificates. In Qinzhou, establish a grain-salt office, using Hedong salt as collateral; merchants transporting grain to the northern garrisons of the Wei River shall receive salt certificates at one shi per unit, redeemable at the Bureau of Monopoly in Bianjing.

Yet the law must be stringent, and safeguards must be strict. Salt from Shu without official seals shall be treated as contraband; grain submitted in Qinzhou with false declarations shall be punished under military law. The Transport Commissioner of Yizhou shall report monthly the inflow and outflow of copper coins; the Qinzhou grain-salt office shall report every ten days the amount of grain certificates issued—all by fast horse directly to the Three Departments. Thus, corruption finds no room, and the law achieves its proper form.

The first issuance of jiaozi began in Chengdu alone; the reform of tea law was trialed in Huainan alone. If this trial of salt certificates proves effective, Shu will annually gain copper coins, gradually alleviating the depreciation of iron coins; Qin Fenglu will save millions in grain transport costs, reducing cartage expenses by ten thousand strings. Meanwhile, the court holds the pivot of exchange and reaps the merchants’ profits. Even if imperfect, we need only halt the trial in these two places—no harm to the greater system.

Your servant, overwhelmed with earnestness and urgency, respectfully submits this memorial for your hearing.”

When the ink dried, Lu Beigu handed it to Li Pan, who delivered it to Zhang Fangping. Zhang Fangping glanced at it, then passed it to Zhao Bian.

The atmosphere had now grown considerably lighter. Zhang Fangping smiled and asked: “How does this writing compare to yours?”

Zhao Bian excelled in poetry and calligraphy; his poetry was fresh, precise, and distinctly “Song-style,” one of the few major poets of the time who wrote almost exclusively poetry and not ci. Contemporaries praised his verse for its Tao Yuanming-like simplicity and quiet depth.

As for calligraphy, his mastery was even greater.

Zhao Bian’s brushwork was upright and rigorous, strokes refined and lustrous, modeled after the Yan style popular in early Northern Song, leaning toward elegance without succumbing to softness. His characters, broader and looser than traditional Yan script, combined slender, resilient strokes with slightly tilted forms, yielding a crisp, ancient grace—unique in his age, truly a master of his time.

“The writing reflects the man.”

Zhao Bian studied it carefully, clearly pleased, and said: “A gentleman conceals his talent, never displaying it lightly; but when drawn from its sheath, it must shine.”

This was high praise indeed. Zhang Fangping nodded.

“I cannot use your ideas without reward.”

Zhang Fangping looked at Lu Beigu and asked: “What reward do you desire? Do you wish to become an official? If so, Zhao and I can jointly recommend you for the post of Chief Clerk of a ten-thousand-household county right now.”

To be honest, the offer was tempting.

Though the Chief Clerk was only a ninth-rank, the lowest official grade, handling household registers, financial records, and documents, within a county he ranked among the top five most powerful officials.

Without enduring the grueling, near-impossible imperial examinations, one could leap straight into office—anyone else would have accepted instantly.

But Lu Beigu shook his head and said: “Your student still wishes to take the Jinshi examination.”

“Good! Ambition is admirable. Taking the Jinshi is the true path.”

Zhang Fangping nodded approvingly, then picked up his brush and wrote a letter before their eyes, speaking as he wrote:

“I have recommended you to Ouyang Yongshu. I have detailed your accomplishments in the letter. Should you one day pass the Jinshi and meet him, I believe he will take to you.”

Lu Beigu’s heart trembled.

This letter of recommendation carried immense weight.

Ouyang Yongshu was Ouyang Xiu.

Leaving aside his personal stature and his circle of “Qingli Gentlemen,” for a junior scholar, this was an unimaginable court resource.

Simply as the undisputed literary leader of the Song, head of the Classical Prose Movement, to earn his guidance and approval meant instant fame across the land!

Even the possibility of becoming one of the next generation’s literary leaders!

This was not merely a letter of recommendation—it was a passport to becoming a great literary master.

Of course, the precondition was that Lu Beigu must, through his own merit, reach Ouyang Xiu’s side—otherwise, all this meant nothing.

Yet regardless, the reward was extraordinary.

Zhang Fangping set down his brush, leaned back in his armless chair, and smiled faintly.

“Speak now—what else do you want? Silks, brocades, gold, jewels, lovely maidservants—all are possible.”

——————

① “Yǎng bǔ” means to rely on others for sustenance.

② “Fēi chú wǎn sù” originates from the “Book of Han: Biography of Zhu Fu Yan,” where Zhu advised against attacking the Xiongnu: “In the past, the First Emperor of Qin relied on military might and made the empire transport grain and forage from the coastal commanderies of Huang, Zhi, and Langye, hauling it to Beihé, requiring thirty zhong to deliver one shi.” Tang commentator Yan Shigu explained: “‘Fei chu’ means transporting forage swiftly; ‘wan’ means hauling by cart or boat.” It signifies rapid grain transport.

③ “Yōng zhì” means blocked or clogged.

④ “Lòu zhī”: “Zhī” refers to an ancient wine vessel; here, it means constant leakage.

⑤ Refers to the “Tie she fa,” where tea merchants paid the government its net profit and then bought tea directly from growers to sell. First implemented in Huainan, it was abandoned due to resistance, later evolving into the “Jian qian fa,” which was enacted and repealed multiple times during the Northern Song.

⑥ “Zhé yuè” means currency depreciation.

⑦ “Your servant, overwhelmed with [X], respectfully submits” is a standard closing phrase in Song memorials. The bracketed text varies—e.g., “fear and earnest prayer,” “trembling with shame and urgency,” “grateful and urgent,” “gazing toward heaven and the throne with urgency,” “praying to heaven and awaiting mandate with urgency”—chosen to match the memorial’s tone and emotion.

(End of chapter)