Chapter 1487: The Year of Flood Fighting and Disaster Relief
In the fifth month of summer in the tenth year of Kaibao, the Great Han suffered its most severe flood since the founding of the state. Throughout the vast Central Plains, incessant rain fell without cease, and dozens of prefectures and counties in Henan and Hebei were afflicted by the calamity of the downpour.
Even more alarming, the Yellow River, which had been "well-behaved" for over a decade, began to stir up trouble. Water levels surged violently, floods struck frequently, and the dikes at Chanzhou, Daming, and a dozen or more downstream prefectures and counties all faced the danger of collapse, threatening millions of common people.
Though the response was somewhat delayed, once the scale and severity of the flood were confirmed, the Great Han court also demonstrated the efficiency of its current administrative capacity. With an extremely stern attitude, it issued edicts in rapid succession, broadly instructing the local governments of every prefecture and county to defend their positions with utmost vigilance, fight the disaster, and rescue the people.
This time, it was nearly a total mobilization. Aimed at the local governments along the Yellow River and Bian River basins, officials and commoners moved together, soldiers and civilians coordinated—the scale and fanfare rivaled that of the Northern Expedition, perhaps even surpassing it, for this truly affected their own interests and was a matter of life and death.
To draw attention and demonstrate resolve, Zhao Pu even conveyed an attitude to the relevant government offices through less formal means: wherever trouble occurs, deal with it there; whoever is negligent or careless, deal with them.
No empty posturing, no dragging of feet—decisive, clean, simple, and direct, a threat that could be called crude. And to make the monkeys in the localities sit up and take notice, the chief and deputy officials of Chanzhou, where the first breach occurred, became the chickens sacrificed at the flag-raising ceremony of this flood-fighting mobilization. Whether they felt wronged or not, there was no reasoning to be had.
The tactic of killing a chicken to scare the monkeys is an old trick, but it often works. Many lessons are not always so easily learned, but with such a cautionary example, few dared not to take things seriously. Even if not for the sake of the common people under their governance, for the sake of the official cap on their own heads, they would have to put in more effort.
In matters of disaster relief, after more than twenty years, the Great Han court had ample experience. But even after reacting and adopting a series of forceful and decisive measures, it still could not enable the prefectures and counties along the two rivers to pass through this great flood smoothly.
The unceasing torrential rain was the primary cause of the flood disaster. As long as the rain did not stop, the calamity would not end. Dozens of prefectures and counties, millions of people, became victims of the flood and rain.
Especially Chanzhou, where the disaster first erupted—the breach opened there was the single greatest leak, utterly impossible to block. The surging, overflowing floodwaters rampaged freely, drowning farmland and destroying villages. The losses to official and private property were incalculable; merely surviving with one's life was a stroke of heaven's fortune.
To fight the flood and provide disaster relief, the governments of the capital region, Henan, and Hebei mobilized a total of over three hundred thousand soldiers and civilians. Local armies were dispatched in full, and even the imperial army of the Eastern Capital, Daming, and key towns along the river was deployed.
The human and material resources mobilized were enormous, and the court dared to invest them. Yet in the face of such natural calamity, humanity always appears so fragile and powerless. Millions of officials and commoners, more often than not, could only struggle desperately and huddle together for warmth against the raging wind and rain and the ferocious beast of the flood.
This was still with the court's river defense projects having played some role over the years. Otherwise, had the dikes and embankments in various places burst on a large scale, the waters would have poured forth in a torrent, and vast areas of the lower Yellow River would have become a watery wasteland in an extremely short time.
If the rain did not stop, the disaster would not end. Yet what put enormous pressure on the court and the localities was precisely that unceasing rain—not only did it not stop, it seemed relentless, giving one the feeling that it would break through the dikes and destroy everything.
The sustained torrential rain tested not only the dikes everywhere but also the will of the people. From the outbreak of the disaster in the fifth month through the sixth month, the rain continued unabated everywhere, its intensity varying but never ceasing, leaving people unable to see an end in sight.
By this point, everyone realized that this rain and flood disaster would not end anytime soon. And the dikes along the river, under the continuous assault of the great waters, appeared precarious, as fragile as a pile of eggs.
Chanzhou needed no further mention—its situation was the most dire. Tens of thousands of soldiers and civilians, braving the rain and risking their lives, cast sand and stone into the breach, yet it only served to curb the flow to a negligible degree.
The situation at Daming Prefecture was equally bad. At the dikes of Chaocheng and elsewhere, soldiers and civilians were stationed permanently, materials were stockpiled in abundance, and defenses were extensively reinforced—only thus were they barely able to hold. Even so, the danger of collapse was not resolved, and several crises were only averted through sheer human effort.
Elsewhere, the situation might have been somewhat better, but that was only relatively speaking; the critical situation had not truly eased. The millions of soldiers and civilians in the river regions experienced a doomsday-like feeling, as if a sword hung over their heads, ready to strike at any moment.
For this reason, apart from responding to the government's corvée labor for flood fighting and disaster relief, in the river regions, hundreds of thousands of people abandoned their homes and livelihoods. Vast numbers of common folk, carrying the old and leading the young, fled their native places, all to escape the flood.
For a time, the lower reaches of the great river fell into chaos. Social and economic order was severely disrupted, and both the court's rule and the government's administration were subjected to tremendous tests.
Duke Hui of the State, Song Yanwo, was the "supreme commander" on the front lines of flood fighting and disaster relief appointed by Emperor Liu. Every memorial he submitted from there was filled with words like severe, urgent, and critical, enough to make one's heart pound with fear.
And Chancellor Zhao Pu, stationed in the capital directing and coordinating, spent a month in constant anxiety, his greatest fear being news that another breach had occurred somewhere, or another place had been stricken.
Having already incurred Emperor Liu's displeasure for insufficient foresight regarding the rain disaster, if any further errors occurred in the subsequent relief efforts, once the disaster eased, he as chancellor would absolutely not come out well.
And what weighed heaviest of all was that this disaster showed no sign of easing anytime soon, let alone ending.
In light of the flood situation, Emperor Liu no longer continued to stay behind the scenes, enjoying comfort and coolness within the Han palace. In the face of such natural calamity and national crisis, he could hardly muster such a mood.
After entering the sixth month, Emperor Liu issued repeated directives, urging the court and government offices, encouraging officials and commoners alike, and calling for unity of purpose from top to bottom to fight the disaster with all their strength.
Because the rain continued with almost uncanny persistence, many officials at court submitted memorials requesting that Emperor Liu perform a heaven-worshipping ceremony to pray for blessings and relieve the disaster.
Such requests were naturally rejected by Emperor Liu without hesitation. The reason was simple: if by a stroke of luck the prayers proved effective and enhanced the sacredness of his person, that would be one thing.
However, if the heaven-worshipping proved ineffective, would that not stir people's hearts toward unrest? Such an outcome was not something Emperor Liu wished to see. Especially since Emperor Liu had consulted those "astronomical experts" of the Imperial Observatory, and judging from their words, this great rain and flood showed no signs of abating.
At the same time, under such circumstances, Emperor Liu was exceptionally sensitive. In peaceful times, one could go through the motions—worship heaven, pay respects to the gods, and be done with it. But at this moment, what Emperor Liu suspected was whether someone might use the theory of heavenly retribution to make trouble, speaking of how the ruler had lost his virtue, governance had lost its way, and thus heaven had sent down calamity to warn the world.
Fortunately, there were no such fools at court who dared to jump out and provoke Emperor Liu's ire at this time. Even if some harbored similar thoughts, for now they could only keep them bottled up inside.
Emperor Liu also specially issued a plain edict. From its complete lack of literary polish, one could tell it was personally drafted by Emperor Liu himself, without having passed through Li Fang's refinement.
Emperor Liu bluntly rebuked those who did not strive to fight the disaster but instead hoped for heaven's mercy and favor, pointing out that those who harbored such thoughts were all mediocre officials and idle men who passively resisted disaster relief and gave no thought to alleviating suffering and saving the people.
The wording was exceptionally severe. After the edict was issued, at least on the Western Capital side, the court's thinking was basically unified, and the relevant departments devoted themselves more single-mindedly to the tasks of flood fighting and disaster relief.
On the jichou day of the sixth month (the second day), the governments of Zhengzhou, the Eastern Capital, and Songzhou submitted memorials one after another, reporting anomalies in the water conditions of the Bian River. These reports, coming while the river disaster was still unresolved, drew the court's high attention.
The Hall of State Affairs issued directives in rapid succession, ordering the governments of prefectures and counties along the Bian to raise their prevention levels, make preparations in manpower and materials, and respond in advance to guard against any changes in the Bian River.
There was no way not to take it seriously. The Bian River was the core waterway of the Central Plains, a golden route that connected the canals and linked north and south. If the Bian were to cause disaster, it would harm not only key cities like the Eastern Capital but would affect the Western Capital as well.
After all, the current Western Capital, Luoyang, also received a large amount of material support each year from the southeastern regions.
It must be said that in the Great Han's twenty years of managing rivers and canals, the most notable achievement was the Central Plains waterway centered on the Bian River. Subsequently, the impact of the flood disaster did indeed spread from the Bian River basin. However, thanks to the government's advance preparation, strict defense, and the convenience of the river works, the Bian ultimately did not become a calamity, passing through smoothly and safely navigating the danger.
Throughout the entire fifth and sixth months, the Great Han spent its time in struggle against the torrential rain and flood. Humanity could not conquer heaven, yet neither did it yield. It was not until the twenty-first day of the sixth month that the two sides reached a "reconciliation"—the rain stopped, the flood subsided, and the tribulation was successfully overcome...
End of Chapter
