Chapter 1693: The Prince of Jin

"Noble Consort Gao is ill?" Emperor Liu was somewhat taken aback by Yan Tuo's report, then asked with concern: "What happened? What illness? Is it serious?"

"She was perfectly fine—how could she fall ill!" Emperor Liu muttered.

For decades, Noble Consort Gao had always enjoyed robust health, free of illness and disaster. Even when she occasionally felt unwell, it was only a minor discomfort, and she recovered quickly. But this time, it was clearly not so simple.

Facing Emperor Liu's concern, Yan Tuo hesitated for a moment, then carefully reported: "Your Majesty, the imperial physicians have already examined her and prescribed a regulating prescription. According to them, the Noble Consort's illness is caused by pent-up melancholy. As long as her mood lifts, with a little recuperation, she will recover."

Hearing Yan Tuo's words, Emperor Liu came to understand. Setting down the vermilion brush in his hand, he said with some helplessness: "So it's still about the Wenhai matter. Why bother? At this age, still holding such a grudge…"

"Your Majesty, shall we go to Yaohua Hall to visit her?" Yan Tuo requested.

At the question, a flicker of awkwardness passed over Emperor Liu's aged face. He gently shook his head: "Forget it. This is a sickness of the heart, and I have no heart-medicine to give her. If I go, I'm afraid it will only provoke her further!"

That was what he said, but Emperor Liu still felt somewhat uneasy at heart—and he didn't even know why he felt this unease. With his temperament, if he were truly annoyed, he wouldn't bother considering the feelings of the harem consorts.

Perhaps it was because he was getting old, inevitably growing soft-hearted—especially since Noble Consort Gao was a woman who had served him for decades.

"Didn't Wang Zhou bring some ginseng and tonics when he came to court last time? Go pick some out and send them to Yaohua Hall!" Emperor Liu instructed Yan Tuo.

Although he also knew that ginseng and such might not necessarily cure the illness, it was ultimately a gesture of care—to tell Noble Consort Gao that he still cared about her.

After pondering for a while longer, Emperor Liu still felt somewhat ill at ease, and muttered: "Should I have Liu Xi's family return to the capital for a visit?"

Just as Prince of Qin Liu Xu was toiling hard in Andong, Prince of Jin Liu Xi had also been managing Monan for over a decade, and had quietly earned the nickname "King of Monan."

However, unlike Andong's high degree of autonomy, Monan fell under the jurisdiction of Shanyang Circuit, bordering Hedong—a place of dragon-rising significance. At the same time, it was not as remote as Andong, and was far more influenced by the imperial court.

Moreover, to the north in Mobei there was the Khitan regime as an external threat, and the court maintained powerful military forces in the region, along with Chancellor Song Qi's governance of Shanyang—all of which greatly restricted Liu Xi's power, unlike Liu Xu's self-rule in Andong.

But at the same time, Liu Xi faced far less criticism—at least no one regarded Monan as the "Kingdom of Monan" or slapped it with the label of "a state within a state."

Even so, over the past decade, Liu Xi had accomplished considerable achievements in Monan. Perhaps he had matured, or perhaps it was his true nature all along—after reaching thirty, Liu Xi completely shed the idleness and carelessness of his youth and began to truly shoulder the responsibilities of an imperial prince and a son of the Emperor.

Emperor Liu's careful cultivation in his early years, along with Noble Consort Gao's stern discipline, had not been in vain. Although Liu Xi kept a low profile, his abilities were genuine—he could often see straight to the crux of problems, possessed high political awareness, had a clear grasp of the imperial will, and could offer precise interpretations of court policies.

And in these years in Monan, Liu Xi's main work had precisely been in implementing court policies—especially the great policy of sinicizing the Hu peoples.

Unlike Yulin Circuit, where things remained superficial and formalistic, where good policies turned into bad ones, the absorption and assimilation of the Hu tribes under Shanyang's jurisdiction was carried out in earnest. The process of sinicization had made tremendous progress in the last decade.

By the twenty-first year of Kaibao, nearly all the tribes beyond the northern frontier had, under the government's push, been registered into household rolls and fully brought under the court's administration, with a detailed taxation system also being practically implemented.

Compared to the past, the productive capacity of the Hu people had been liberated to a certain extent. And apart from their production methods being primarily pastoral, these Hu people had essentially become indistinguishable from the Han peasants at the bottom of the Great Han.

The promotion of the Chinese language had also advanced by leaps and bounds—at least the young people had grown accustomed to speaking Chinese. Whether in official dealings or among the common folk, it was the most practical tool and the one that best protected their own interests.

At the very least, not speaking Chinese made one easy to deceive. The Han people and even Han officials roaming beyond the northern frontier were not all kind-hearted believers—in the past, many Hu had suffered losses because they couldn't understand the official language.

Driven by self-interest, the Hu people had no choice but to force themselves to learn Chinese—even if they couldn't speak it, they had to understand it. And their original wild tongues had become merely local dialects.

By now, if one heard a bunch of Hu people speaking halting Chinese in the tribal camps or markets beyond the northern frontier, it was hardly worth being surprised about.

In comparison, the promotion of Chinese characters still lagged behind. But this was also constrained by national conditions—language was a basic issue, while writing was more advanced. Even among the Han people there were plenty of illiterates, let alone the Hu.

Due to differences in production methods, the promotion of Han clothing had not been forcibly pushed either. King Wuling of Zhao had adopted Hu clothing and mounted archery, but Emperor Liu was hardly going to regress in Monan.

However, among the upper echelons of the Hu—especially those tribal leaders and chieftains who had submitted to the Great Han and been absorbed by the court—they had all grown accustomed to wearing Han clothing. After all, they had moved beyond basic farming and herding labor, belonging to the class that understood propriety.

It could be said that of the three matters—Chinese speech, Chinese characters, and Chinese clothing—the most thorough, most effective, and most meaningful work was the promotion of the Chinese language, and Liu Xi had devoted nearly half his energy to this task.

Compared to the tangled mess over in Yulin, the flourishing prosperity of the Monan region stood out completely. Of course, such a large gap between the two had its internal reasons.

The government's strength in the region was one factor; the court's degree of attention was another; tribal composition and historical factors were yet another. Unlike the Tangut, who cliqued together and excluded outsiders, the Hu peoples of Monan came from many sources with more mixed composition. Moreover, during the great Han–Liao war, the region had been destroyed once, and the Great Han had built its rule in Monan from scratch.

With the Khitan threat in Mobei and the court stationing heavy troops in Monan, its control was very strong. As for those tribes that had submitted—some had been conquered during the court's northern campaigns, and some had fled south during the great chaos in Mobei. These people had a deeper understanding of the court's and the Han army's strength, and combined with the subtle influence of Liao-era rule, their resistance to sinicization was not that deep.

As for those who refused to submit and resisted—they were either annihilated or fled beyond the Great Han's territory. The rest, given enough time, naturally became obedient subjects of the Great Han.

On the other hand, in Monan and the entire Shanyang region, Han immigrant settlement had a good "mixing sand" effect, consolidating the court's rule from the grassroots and suppressing the possibility of Hu separatism.

After all, unlike Yulin's dense deserts, Monan was the "Jiangnan beyond the frontier"—vast grasslands, excellent pastures, and abundant water sources. Its appeal was far greater than other border regions.

In particular, the Great Han's demand for livestock such as cattle, sheep, horses, and camels was nearly insatiable. Whether for draft power, meat, or even hides and wool, they were all extremely valuable—pure, naked profit.

With the court's propaganda and various folk rumors, large numbers of Han people surged northward, fencing off pastureland, raising sheep and horses, then selling them for economic gain.

This kind of profit-driven behavior was far more effective than all the immigration policies the court had racked its brains to devise.

Of course, even with all these objective favorable factors at play, the role Prince of Jin Liu Xi played in resolving Monan's ethnic problems was enormous and could not be ignored.

In the eyes of many Hu, Liu Xi was not only of noble status and fair in conduct—he showed no contempt for the Hu people and treated all parties equally when handling disputes. Unlike those officials who one-sidedly protected the Han, Liu Xi preferred to convince people with reason and judge matters according to law.

Of course, this premise required you to be honest and well-behaved. Back when some Khitan tribes in Monan had rebelled and fled north, Liu Xi had conveyed his opinion to the suppressing Han army: deal with them severely, kill them all without mercy.

And compared to those hypocritical facades, the most critical reason Liu Xi could win people's hearts and smoothly advance sinicization was that he brought tangible benefits to the lower-class Hu people.

To encourage their herding, he specially organized a goods depot that uniformly purchased livestock and hides from the Hu people at fair prices, while also guaranteeing the supply of scarce goods in Monan such as salt, tea, cloth, and grain.

In essence, the Hu people of Monan were still the objects of exploitation—the leeks being harvested. But with fewer middlemen taking their cut, more real benefits fell into their hands, which was enough to make them grateful and appreciative.

At the same time, with the frequent trade across the Great Wall, Monan's prosperity was stimulated, and no one was willing to break this hard-won way of life.

In fact, the same policy was a mess in Yulin but bore abundant fruit in Shanyang. The reasons for this were not only being reflected upon by Emperor Liu—the ministers and grandees at court were also drawing their conclusions.