Chapter 143: Hard Days

Regarding Liu Chengyou's proposal for a personal expedition, before Liu Zhiyuan could speak, Yang Bin couldn't help but advise: "No matter how rampant Du Chongwei is, he is but a dog in a kennel. Send a great general with an army and he can be captured. War is dangerous and fraught with peril—why should Your Majesty go in person? Your Majesty is the Son of Heaven, and should remain at the heart of the realm, harmonizing yin and yang, stabilizing the people's hearts. How could you lightly venture forth?"

Hearing Yang Bin's words, Liu Chengyou felt inwardly annoyed. If this were a time of peace, fine—but in this age, an emperor who lives on horseback need not fear the dangers of war. Liu Zhiyuan had entered Kaifeng along an unobstructed path, without displaying his sovereign virtue or manifesting his sovereign might. A personal expedition against Du Chongwei would be the perfect opportunity to display his authority to the world and intimidate those of differing minds.

As for the risks of a personal expedition—after all, success or failure bore directly upon the emperor's dignity, and in the worst case could completely affect the nation's fortune and the stability of the realm. But given the current strength of the court, having come this far, if they could not take Du Chongwei, then the Great Han had no right to stand tall among the powers of the Central Plains.

Of course, Liu Chengyou naturally harbored his own private designs. If Liu Zhiyuan went on a personal expedition, he would surely request to accompany him. With troops in the field, the space for him to maneuver would be greatly expanded.

However, Liu Chengyou was clearly being wishful. Liu Zhiyuan did not directly express his view, but instead, with an inscrutable tone, calmly solicited the opinions of others.

On this point, including Su Fengji, all expressed that the Emperor should not lightly venture out. Only Guo Wei, and even then conservatively, expressed support for Liu Chengyou, suggesting first dispatching troops to campaign and seeing how things turned out.

The subsequent discussion smoothly skirted past the topic of a "personal expedition." The sovereign and his ministers deliberated over the choice of commander—this one unsuitable, that one unsuitable—debating with great fervor. Yet amid this heated atmosphere, one feeling stood out most profoundly to Liu Chengyou: This was not his court!

With a stern, unsmiling face, Liu Chengyou stepped into the Bureau of Military Affairs, and Guo Wei followed close behind: "Your Highness!"

"Elder Guo." Liu Chengyou nodded to him in greeting.

As the two entered, several clerks couldn't help but glance up, then quickly lower their heads. Within the Bureau of Military Affairs, including Wei Renpu, there were over a dozen subordinate officials, each attending to their own duties.

If one were to speak of which among the Great Han's various offices was the most presentable and orderly, it could only be the Bureau of Military Affairs. The three leading figures—from Yang Bin, to Guo Wei, to Liu Chengyou—were respectively fierce, prudent, and solemn. With the three of them holding sway, those beneath simply dared not be negligent or lax.

Leading Guo Wei to his usual working position, Liu Chengyou dismissed the attendants who were eagerly serving tea. Guo Wei asked: "You seem to be in a bad mood?"

Liu Chengyou shook his head: "Not really."

"Are you concerned about the court's arrangements?"

"Not really, either."

Seeing Liu Chengyou's demeanor, Guo Wei spoke on his own: "Governor Gao's prestige is illustrious, his reputation weighty, and he has spent many years on horseback. With him leading the army and deploying at Yedu, Du Chongwei will certainly be no match. Though the Weibo troops are strong, they are constrained by their commander's incompetence. Du Chongwei has long lost the people's support. Pitting a region against the central authority—he lacks both righteous cause and the will of the scholar-officials and common folk. Such outward strength with inner weakness is truly not worth mentioning."

"Elder Guo speaks sense!" Liu Chengyou agreed with Guo Wei's assessment, but no matter how plain his expression, that air of listlessness lingered persistently between his brows.

The court deliberation just now, after much consideration, had reached a decision: should war break out, Acting Grand Preceptor, concurrently Director of the Secretariat, Defender-in-Chief, and Yedu Garrison Commander Gao Xingzhou would serve as commander-in-chief to campaign against him.

Gao Xingzhou—anyone who has written about the early history of the "Five Dynasties" has likely mentioned him. A renowned commander of the age, he was yet another famous general who had been active in military and political circles since the end of the Tang. He first served the Jie Yan regime, then served the Tang and Jin. Skilled in war and adept at battle, he destroyed states, quelled rebels, struck down bandits, suppressed uprisings, and resisted the Khitan, fighting battle after battle to earn his reputation through the successive chaotic dynasties. Additionally, he had a rather famous son—Gao Huaide, the "renowned general who founded the Song."

In terms of birth, seniority, and prestige, Liu Zhiyuan was in fact more than a notch weaker than Gao Xingzhou. If Liu Zhiyuan truly dared to appoint him commander-in-chief and send troops to suppress the rebellion, then his magnanimity was hardly small. Of course, from Liu Chengyou's perspective, having Gao Xingzhou as commander was perfectly acceptable—his ability and prestige were more than sufficient to command the various armies.

Among the regional governors who had submitted, Gao Xingzhou counted as one of the more obedient. Most importantly, Gao Xingzhou was already past sixty. At such an age, he would basically harbor no excessive ambitions—at most, he would scheme a bit for his descendants, seeking protection and favor.

But there is always a "but." While planning to use Gao Xingzhou, Liu Zhiyuan also wished to appoint Liu Chengyou's uncle, Military Governor of the Zhenning Army Murong Yanchao, as his deputy—essentially installing an army supervisor.

Such an arrangement, from Liu Chengyou's inner perspective, was not one he viewed favorably. He had already seen what kind of person his uncle was back at Baima. Though their time together had been brief, the impression had been decidedly poor.

However, Liu Chengyou had no intention of sharing these thoughts with Guo Wei. Casually changing the subject, Liu Chengyou sighed and said: "The outcome remains to be tested by time. But with today's decisions, this Bureau of Military Affairs is going to be busy again..."

Guo Wei nodded, his gaze drifting briefly, then leaning slightly toward Liu Chengyou, he asked in a low voice: "Your Highness, regarding the report from Mozhou, um—"

Guo Wei showed a hint of hesitation. Seeing this, Liu Chengyou said flatly: "What is it?"

A flicker of doubt passed through Guo Wei's eyes as he continued in a lowered voice: "I merely find it somewhat strange, that's all."

Hearing this, Liu Chengyou turned his head and looked at Guo Wei. The two exchanged glances, their gazes communicating in the air...

The Han court's efficiency had clearly improved considerably—perhaps because it involved military matters, or perhaps because special matters were being handled specially. Envoys departed the Eastern Capital multiple times, and that very afternoon, the scattered Captain troops were mobilized northward, heading straight for the Yellow River, then continuing east through the night. Following that, the Wujie Army also received orders and prepared to move out. Counting the earlier deployments, against Du Chongwei, the imperial army and the Bingzhou garrison troops—the court had already mobilized over sixty thousand cavalry and infantry. That counted as paying considerable attention.

At the same time, large quantities of war materiel were being transported from the Eastern Capital toward Yedu, shipped by boat, traveling up the Bian River into the Yellow River. In fact, the distance from the Eastern Capital to Yedu was not particularly far. With water transport supporting the effort, the amount of civilian labor truly needed to be conscripted was not great.

The troops used this time, aside from the Xingjie Army that had been transferred north earlier, were mostly reorganized "miscellaneous troops," sent to deal with Du Chongwei. The Han court's arrangement, upon deeper reflection, carried a whiff of "scheming."

Over at Yedu, the court's envoy delivered that "critical" letter to Du Chongwei. The result went without saying—he flew into a rage, bellowing "The court bullies me too much!" Then he raised his banners and rebelled. He did not kill the envoy, but sent him back to the court with a reply, declaring he would eventually fight his way into the Eastern Capital.

The envoy, who had expected death but miraculously survived, did not notice the changes in Du Chongwei's expression upon reading that letter—astonishment, mockery, fury, resolve.

As the Eastern Capital and Yedu completely tore off all pretense, the shadow of war began to loom over both banks of the Yellow River, and the eyes of the realm converged upon Weibo.

Rebellion—suppression—was the leitmotif of this era. It was the "correct" way for the relationship between the central authority and the regions to unfold at the founding of a state. Without going through such an ordeal, on what grounds could the Liu family sit securely upon the Central Plains? And just how much substance the Liu-Han dynasty truly possessed would be seen in how the "Campaign Against Du" went. If it could be swiftly extinguished, then all would be well. Otherwise, there would be plenty of hardship to endure.

In the high autumn of the eighth month, yellow chrysanthemums bloomed in full along both banks of the Bian River. The aged fragrance of osmanthus permeating the air drifted into the walls of Kaifeng, bringing a touch of gentleness to the scholars and commoners of the Eastern Capital.

At the ferry dock, another dozen or so ships raised sail and headed north. The banners hoisted and the imperial army guards aboard revealed them to be official vessels. What they carried, besides grain and military equipment, were newly rushed batches of clothing, shoes and socks, rain gear, and other military supplies.

Since the "Campaign Against Du" had begun, aside from the official workshops, all manner of large and small workshops in the Eastern Capital had started production—though under the government's regulation, even "compulsion," rushing to produce military supplies to sell to the authorities. Moreover, prices were kept very low, and profits were meager.

But since the government was regulating, even if enthusiasm was low, none dared defy it—otherwise, soldiers and yamen runners would come knocking to forcibly requisition. Of course, if one cooperated, things remained peaceful. Perhaps one wouldn't earn much, but at least there would be some gain.

These matters were naturally the doing of State Finance Commissioner Wang Zhang. Upon first hearing of it, Liu Chengyou felt his exactions were overly harsh. However, upon deeper understanding, Liu Chengyou did not voice much opinion—and of course, even if he had, it wouldn't have made much difference. Since war was upon them, everything had to yield to the war effort. The court not imposing temporary tax increases was already exceptional leniency.

Wang Zhang's lot was not easy either. To support the campaign at Weibo, he had racked his brains. Even with all manner of economizing, the national treasury drained away like flowing water. War—what it truly ground down was a great many people.

At the ferry dock, several porters who had just finished unloading a ship's cargo gathered together for a brief rest. One of them, gazing at the fleet sailing northwest away from the shore, remarked: "That's already the eleventh batch."

"I hear the fighting over at Guangjin Prefecture isn't going smoothly—the court's troops still haven't taken Yedu," another said in a low voice.

"How the court's campaign goes—what's that to us? As long as they don't short our wages. I just hope today's rice and flour don't go up again," a swarthy-faced fellow said in a muffled voice.

A thin, small-statured man across from him shook his head: "With Prince Wei and Prince Zhou both in charge, it shouldn't come to that."

Whenever war broke out, material shortages and rising prices were perfectly normal, but there were always those who hoarded goods to profiteer. During this period, Liu Chengxun's Kaifeng administration and Liu Chengyou's Patrol Inspectorate had conducted joint enforcement, cracking down on profiteering merchants and stabilizing grain prices. Then they discovered that after cracking down on grain merchants, the volume of grain shipped into the Eastern Capital from various regions plummeted sharply, and they had not effectively curbed grain prices—they remained stubbornly high.

The government's own grain reserves were also limited. With the canal transport system in disrepair, incoming grain was scarce, and with priority given to sustaining the court and supporting the war effort, what circulated to the civilian population was ultimately a small fraction.

There was no choice but to reluctantly relax the crackdown, merely drawing a red line on prices to leave the grain brokers and merchants some profit margin. After all, no matter how high grain prices rose, it was still better than going hungry. And this matter also reminded Liu Chengyou of two things: first, official granary reserves; second, canal transport.

"Can the government be relied upon?" one man couldn't help complaining. "Prince Wei is benevolent enough, redressing grievances. But that Prince Zhou—he's terrifying!"

"If you ask me, Prince Zhou is still reasonable. The Patrol Inspectorate's soldiers don't dare get too out of line. But if you ran into those military officers of the Imperial Guard—surviving that would be luck..."

"Do you want to die?!" Hearing the two getting carried away, the sallow-faced man nervously snapped at them, and the two quickly fell silent.

To ensure stability in the capital, the court had recently tightened its control over Kaifeng once again. Within the city of Kaifeng, three offices held law enforcement authority over the wards and markets: Liu Chengxun's Kaifeng administration, Liu Chengyou's Patrol Inspectorate, and Shi Hongzhao's Imperial Guard Command.

Three parties sharing jurisdiction, with unclear divisions of authority—and their styles of conduct were utterly different. Liu Chengxun governed with virtue, lenient and benevolent, preferring to handle matters personally, persuading people as his primary approach; even those who were punished often spoke well of him. Liu Chengyou, as always, enforced the law through his patrols, strict in enforcement—but strict with reason, and impartial to all; patrol officers and soldiers who committed wrongdoing were punished one degree more severely. Only Shi Hongzhao's side was distinguished by sheer ruthlessness—the Imperial Guard's officers and men patrolled the streets, and whenever they spotted anyone "suspicious," they would seize them first and investigate later; if the investigation was inconclusive, they would haul them back to the Imperial Guard Command's prison for interrogation. The capital's populace feared him like a ferocious tiger.

Over such matters, Liu Chengxun had even argued with Shi Hongzhao, infuriating the martial man to no small degree—he nearly fell ill again. And Liu Zhiyuan, though he had heard of it, only dealt with it perfunctorily, issuing Shi Hongzhao a minor warning to rein himself in. It was said that Emperor Liu Zhiyuan greatly approved of Shi Hongzhao's philosophy of "severe punishments in chaotic times." As long as the Eastern Capital remained stable, all was well.

"I wonder when these days will ever come to an end," one of them lamented after a moment of silence.

"Once the fighting at Yedu is over and the court has no more wars, maybe things will improve," said the speaker, his uncertain tone laced with hope.

"At this rate, who knows how long it'll drag on. If the north doesn't go well and the court conscripts more corvée labor, who's to say we won't be drafted onto the battlefield!"

"I'd rather go to the battlefield. If I could join the imperial army, kill a few men, earn some merit, life would be better. And if I died, at least I wouldn't have to suffer through living!" the small man said, gazing northward, his words tinged with bitterness.

"Ha!" This remark immediately drew ridicule. A burly man pointed at the small man and mocked: "You? Go to Yedu—you'd just be filling a moat!"

"Don't look down on people!"

"……"

"Sigh!" The sallow-faced man let out another sigh. He had no more interest in listening to these people argue. He looked up at the sky—it was clear and cloudless. In his heart, he thought to himself: he had saved up a bit of money these past few days, and later he would go to the market to buy some flour, fish, oil, and salt. After all, today was the Mid-Autumn Festival, and he wanted to have a proper holiday with his family.

"All of you, get to work! A boat is coming!" They hadn't rested long before the foreman of this ferry dock came over with a few attendants to urge them on, shouting as he walked. Seeing one who didn't move, he "kindly" gave him a kick.

Not far away, a boat sitting deep in the water slowly pulled up to the shore. It was probably around three hundred dan in capacity—a large vessel on the Bian River, coming from the southeast.

The group immediately rolled up their sleeves, tightened their belts, and eagerly stepped forward, working hard to make a living.

PS: Going on the paid shelf tomorrow. The headache is that I have no saved drafts......