Chapter 1803: It's Still the Land Problem

Emperor Liu did not put on a murderous air, but the meaning conveyed in his words still made Kou Zhun shudder. After organizing his words slightly, Kou Zhun reported calmly: "Your Majesty, all along, the court's policy of relocating people to the frontiers has mainly faced three kinds of resistance. First, local officials are unwilling to see population drain from their jurisdictions and tax revenue decrease; second, the common people are deeply attached to their native soil—as long as they have a few acres of thin land to till and support their families, they are reluctant to leave their homes and travel far to reclaim wasteland; third, it is the local tyrants who, relying on their power, restrain and control the common people."

Hearing Kou Zhun's words, Emperor Liu's expression did not change. He said: "The concerns of local officials and the common people, I can understand. But the former are governed by the court's authority—besides, since the court abolished using population size as the criterion for official promotion and assessment, resistance from local officials has already decreased considerably, has it not? I do not believe they would still dare to openly and flagrantly defy the court's major policies!

As for the common people, what I have always upheld is enticing them with benefits—letting them see the advantages, giving money, giving land, giving farm tools and seeds, along with tax breaks and policy protections. Over these years, whether in Andong or Anxi, there has been modest success. Clearly, this approach, even if slow to show results, is still useful.

By comparison, the local tyrants you mentioned—how do they obstruct this matter? And why?"

When he uttered the words "local tyrants," Emperor Liu's tone had already turned somewhat off. All along, because of those five characters "imperial power does not reach the countryside," he had harbored no small disgust toward those powerful local clans and lineage forces, believing they were seizing imperial authority, eroding the empire's foundations, and shaking the Great Han's rule.

Over the past few decades, he had also racked his brains to rectify and suppress them, including forcibly relocating landlords and tyrants from various regions to the frontiers. Yet what was the result? A single Yulin Rebellion had provided a lesson profound enough. The policy of relocating the powerful was adoptable, and the methods had no major problems either—but the biggest problem was that after relocation, they were not placed under control. Relocating them to the borderlands was even the worst choice. That traitor Yuan Ke had been able to raise a successful revolt back then—it was not merely his wolfish ambition.

And in the places where the powerful had been purged, how much had actually changed? The answer was: aside from freeing up some space for the common folk and adding some means of production for the officials to distribute, nothing had fundamentally changed.

Decades later, a new batch of landlords and tyrants had risen again, and their deeds still carried their inherent class character. And what weighed upon the common people remained those three great mountains—the nobility, the bureaucracy, and the landlords—only that under the Great Han's still relatively clean political environment and comparatively stable social order, their conduct had become somewhat more restrained. And these three mountains happened to be precisely the ruling foundation of the current Great Han Empire.

Once he broke through his fixed way of thinking, Emperor Liu gradually came to realize that trying to push imperial power down to the countryside was utter nonsense—completely disregarding objective laws, utterly impractical.

Even managing the bureaucracy was so difficult, and official governance could never be fully purified, let alone the lower strata. And if it were not for those lineage clans and local powers assisting in governance and maintaining stability in the localities, who knew what chaos this empire would have fallen into.

For these reasons, and as he grew older, Emperor Liu had gradually developed a "pacification" mentality toward the localities—as long as overall peace and well-being were ensured, he was unwilling to stir things up further. Out of sight, out of mind.

However, when Kou Zhun now mentioned that local powers were stirring up trouble, controlling the people, and defying the court's major policies, it was as if a reverse scale had been touched—and there was also a feeling of shame and vexation.

The barely visible fury alone made Kou Zhun tremble, and so when he replied, he chose his words even more carefully. Without directly naming which tyrants had committed what offenses, Kou Zhun spoke in a measured, unhurried manner:

"Your Majesty, your servant's knowledge is shallow; I can only present to Your Majesty what I have seen and heard in Huazhou. In earlier years, thanks to the court's grace and the officials' efforts, every household in Huazhou had land to till, houses to live in, and clothing and food to rely on. Even when the court enticed them with benefits, those willing to go to the frontiers to reclaim land were very few, unless the court resorted to force. Even some who were unwilling to be confined to their fields went out to seek their fortunes—but they went to the towns and cities to work for wages.

However, after this situation persisted for over a decade, it finally began to change. When farmers cultivated their land and the weather was favorable, after paying taxes and performing corvée labor, their livelihoods could still be managed without worry. But once natural disasters struck, their land-based livelihoods were destroyed.

The local tyrants would seize this opportunity to annex land, and there were always those who managed poorly—when they were utterly destitute, they sold their land. Thus, in Huazhou, the landless population grew larger and larger. Because they were registered households, in order to pay the two taxes, they had no choice but to attach themselves to landlords and tyrants, becoming tenant farmers.

Under such circumstances, the court's policy of relocating people to the frontiers became a good way out for these people. As far as your servant knows, in Huazhou alone, under the pressure of hardship, no fewer than a thousand people accepted the frontier's recruitment and went to reclaim land.

However, this did not last long either, because someone was stopping them. Those tyrants who annexed and purchased land did not only need the land—after acquiring it, they also needed people to till and produce on it. Otherwise, if the land was bought and then left fallow for lack of laborers, the transaction would be a loss."

At this point, how could Emperor Liu not understand? He interrupted Kou Zhun, pondered for a long while, then asked gravely: "Kou Zhun, tell me honestly—has land annexation in the localities truly become as severe as you describe!"

Meeting Emperor Liu's concerned gaze, Kou Zhun answered precisely: "I would not dare deceive Your Majesty. At least in my hometown of Xiagua, roughly two-tenths of the farmers have already lost their land. As for the other prefectures, I have not seen them myself, and I cannot know the specific situation!"

Hearing this, Emperor Liu finally set aside his lazy posture and sat up straight, muttering to himself: "How many years has the Great Han been founded? Is it truly impossible to stop this?"

"Those with land are unwilling to relocate, and those without land are trapped under the control of local tyrants. Thus, even if the court entices with benefits, relying solely on the people's voluntary applications for migration will hardly achieve results.

In the past, the only thing that worked effectively to break through the restrictions of local powers was when His Highness the Prince of Qin gathered people for Andong—the officials of the governor-general's office personally went down to the villages, and only then did the local powers dare not obstruct!" Kou Zhun continued.

"Indeed!" Emperor Liu sighed: "Since ancient times, land annexation has never annexed only the self-cultivating farmers—they swallow both the land and the people whole, turning my subjects into their slaves!

Utterly detestable! Can imperial power not reaching the countryside work? Can the Great Han's localities rely on such local gentry and squires to maintain stability and last? Less than forty years since the founding, and it is already like this—a hundred years from now, what would it be!"

After venting, Emperor Liu added: "I set high taxes on land transactions precisely to restrict land trading. Now it seems I truly oversimplified things..."

Kou Zhun said: "The land transaction taxes set by the court are indeed high, but they are borne jointly by both buyer and seller. In actual implementation, the seller is often the weaker party—driven by desperate circumstances, they often end up bearing the entire transaction tax. And the tax collectors, seeking convenience, more often than not only look at the tax amount without caring who the taxpayer is.

Moreover, for the buyer, although the transaction tax is high, it is paid only once. As long as they continue to cultivate and produce, whether in as little as three to five years or as long as eight to nine, they can recoup their investment.

Land can naturally be passed down through generations, and with grain prices rising over the past two years, even more people are willing to invest in land management.

Additionally, local officials cannot manage every aspect of local affairs, nor can they achieve comprehensive oversight over land transactions. Thus, private deals are inevitable, and the local tyrants help conceal land and hide household registrations.

There is even..."

At this point, Kou Zhun stopped. But seeing his expression, Emperor Liu said angrily: "What's more, there is collusion between officials and gentry, using cunning schemes to seize property—that is what you wanted to say, is it not!"

"Your Majesty is wise!" Kou Zhun bowed his body and said solemnly.

"My wisdom—I truly would not want to use it on such matters!" Emperor Liu said coldly.