Chapter 1835: The Abacus Was Worked Beautifully, but in the End It Came to Naught

It was already high summer, and the weather was exceptionally hot. Even late at night, the air was thick with a sweltering, oppressive heat that was hard to bear—fitting, in a way, for the restless atmosphere stirring in the capital these days.

Accompanied by several servants and guards, Zhao Kuangyi rode his horse at an easy pace through the streets. Whatever one might say of Zhao Kuangyi's character, in governance and official work he was extraordinarily diligent, preferring to handle matters personally and never shirking exertion—something even Emperor Liu acknowledged.

He wore a genial exterior, reasonable and understanding, harmonizing with his fellow ministers, but at his core he was proud and self-important, with a fairly forceful style. Of course, Zhao Kuangyi himself led by example and was relatively good at winning people over.

He placed exceptional emphasis on efficiency. From the moment he entered officialdom, he devoted nearly all his time to handling government affairs, throwing himself wholly into the management of power, unwilling to waste a single moment on trivial matters.

Going to court and returning home, he always rode a horse, simply because he found carriages too slow. After being summoned to the capital for duty, his behavior became even more extreme. In recent years, the Great Han's court had been beset with affairs, and Zhao Kuangyi had grown even more diligent and hardworking.

Lately, however—especially since Emperor Liu resolved to push forward fiscal and tax reform—Zhao Kuangyi's mood had soured. It wasn't that he felt compelled by his status as a meritorious noble to oppose the decision. Zhao Kuangyi, whose political awareness had always been high, had quickly adjusted his mindset upon sensing Emperor Liu's resolve, and had already figured out how to position himself and how to perform under the tide of reform.

At the same time, with Zhao Kuangyi's insight, he knew well in his heart that if the tax reform succeeded, it would indeed benefit the state and the people, help consolidate the empire's foundations, and constitute a strategic reform measure.

As a spokesman for the interest group that would inevitably suffer under the tax reform, he might think of ways to protect himself and cut losses, but he only intended to go with the flow. As for representing the meritorious nobles in direct confrontation—that kind of foolish move, the clever Zhao Kuangyi would never make.

In fact, Zhao Kuangyi even had the intention of taking on the reform assignment himself. In the eyes of "fools" like Li Fang, this was a troublesome, difficult task—thankless and exhausting.

But in Zhao Kuangyi's view, this was truly a rare opportunity. Compared with retreating and merely inviting Emperor Liu's suspicion and hostility, if he could seize the leading role in the reform, the room for maneuvering would be enormous. This was nearly a once-in-a-decade chance to expand his influence and cultivate his power base.

By pushing the reform forward according to Emperor Liu's wishes, he would first and foremost win Emperor Liu's approval, demonstrating his Chancellor Zhao's noble qualities of wholehearted devotion to the public good, fearlessness in the face of resistance, and willingness to take responsibility.

And in the course of presiding over it, he would naturally offend some people, but the bureaucratic establishment and the meritorious nobles were never of the same camp to begin with. The ever-swelling commoner-origin bureaucrats ought to be reined in—that was the duty of a meritorious noble.

At the same time, the meritorious noble faction was not a harmonious whole either. There were different factions, rival power centers, and especially fierce conflicts of interest—this had been particularly evident in the early Kaibao years during the large-scale conferral of titles and honors, when a host of proud generals and fierce soldiers fought each other openly and covertly to the death over the height of ranks and the order of precedence.

As for their Zhao family specifically, they had never gotten along well with the Murong clan. And when it came to matters involving the Eastern Palace, affecting the succession of the next generation, the clash of camps grew even fiercer.

Therefore, taking the opportunity of the reform to strike at political opponents—wasn't that just a natural byproduct? Zhao Kuangyi knew all too well that among those noble houses, shady dealings and lawbreaking behind the scenes were all too common. The recent rectification of official discipline had only dealt with a few small fry.

And without a doubt, being able to preside over the tax reform would mean holding great power in hand—otherwise, how could one push it forward? That way, he, Zhao Kuangyi, would truly ascend to the pinnacle of power—the goal he had pursued tirelessly for years.

Once it was accomplished, wouldn't formally becoming the Great Han's Chief Chancellor be only natural and proper?

Such a task—so advantageous, so prestigious, so powerful—how could Zhao Kuangyi let it slip by? And compared with this truly great benefit, the losses in money and grain that tax reform might bring to the Zhao family were utterly negligible.

Zhao Kuangyi had made a thorough assessment of the pros and cons of the tax reform, constantly gauging Emperor Liu's intentions and observing the developments in the court situation. Especially watching Li Fang's poor performance during the reform preparations—his inability to suppress the various disputes or make effective progress, and the surveying and measurement of farmland that Emperor Liu had specifically emphasized, which was advancing at a snail's pace—even a man of Zhao Kuangyi's deep reserve couldn't help but feel secret delight, sensing intuitively that he needed only to volunteer once to be entrusted with the heavy responsibility.

However, all his schemes and fancies were, in the end, nothing but wishful thinking. Seeing that the timing was about right, Zhao Kuangyi took the initiative to probe indirectly, expressing to Emperor Liu his willingness to share the sovereign's burdens—only to be praised and commended by Emperor Liu, and then... and then nothing more.

Zhao Kuangyi put on a full display of posturing, casting all his glances, yet it all seemed thrown at a blind man. Emperor Liu never relented, preferring to let Li Fang continue standing on stage making a fool of himself rather than employ him. Zhao Kuangyi also tried probing Crown Prince Liu Yang, but Liu Yang merely offered some words of reassurance, likewise making no statement whatsoever.

Thus, during this period, although Zhao Kuangyi actively participated in the tax reform, offering suggestions and advice for the new tax system, he only had the right to participate in deliberations. The leading role he so desperately craved remained perpetually out of reach.

And when he learned that Emperor Liu had already sent someone with an edict to recall Zhao Pu to the capital, Zhao Kuangyi, for once, truly lost his composure. At this moment, how could Zhao Kuangyi not see it—the one Emperor Liu intended to use was actually Zhao Pu! That was Zhao Pu!

Understand? It was impossible to understand! How could Emperor Liu do such a thing? Toward Li Fang, Zhao Kuangyi could afford to look down on him. Toward anyone else in the court, Zhao Kuangyi had confidence in competing or even suppressing them. But Zhao Pu alone—Zhao Kuangyi had no confidence whatsoever, and was especially wary of him.

What Zhao Kuangyi understood even less was this: Zhao Pu had served as chancellor for twenty years, with vast power and immense influence. Back then, how Emperor Liu had feared him! And now, how could he suppress his suspicions and once again employ Zhao Pu, entrusting him with great authority and heavy responsibility?

Zhao Kuangyi didn't understand, but more than that, he felt indignation and unwillingness. He, Zhao Kuangyi, had been in officialdom for over twenty years, always conscientious and diligent, restraining himself for the public good. After struggling for so long, he had finally taken root in the Great Han's center of power.

Now, only the final step remained—but it was precisely this final step that he could never cross. Between him and the position of Chief Chancellor lay what seemed like an insurmountable chasm—close at hand, yet as distant as the ends of the earth.

In the past, Zhao Kuangyi had always held back, endured, and waited, with beautiful hopes for the future. He had even made a final plan for himself: to wait until Crown Prince Liu Yang ascended the throne.

However, psychological comfort didn't always work. By now, Zhao Kuangyi's patience was running thin. He was no longer young—about to enter the age of knowing Heaven's will—and Emperor Liu, old yet refusing to die, made the waiting all the more agonizing.

And what worried Zhao Kuangyi most was that he had gradually come to realize that the one truly suppressing him was precisely Emperor Liu himself. Though subtle, that faint sense of wariness emanating from Emperor Liu—Zhao Kuangyi could still feel it.

This was also what puzzled Zhao Kuangyi most. He reflected that there was nothing about him worthy of Emperor Liu's suspicion. After all, he was not his elder brother, that man of brilliant military exploits and towering prestige in the army.

If it were said to be guilt by association with Zhao Kuangyin, that didn't hold either—after all, Zhao Kuangyin had retreated behind the scenes for over a decade, and his health had been poor in recent years. Moreover, although the Zhao family was a top-tier noble house, they were hardly unique; families of the same rank could be counted on more than two hands. And besides, if Emperor Liu truly suspected the brothers, why would he have promoted them step by step, elevating him, Zhao Kuangyi, all the way to the position of chancellor?

With a heavy and oppressed heart, Zhao Kuangyi did not return to his own residence. Letting his horse wander freely, he arrived at the Duke of Rong's mansion.