Chapter 1916: Viewing Matters with a Developmental Eye

Emperor Liu summoned the meritorious nobles to the Hall of Meritorious Officials without much secrecy—such a major commotion could hardly be concealed even if one tried. Thus, outside the hall had already gathered all sorts of people, informants from every direction, probing and inquiring, attempting to discern what the Great Han's most core power-holders were discussing, preparing for possible shifts in the court.

Quite naturally, Emperor Liu's remarks inside the Hall of Meritorious Officials spread piecemeal and gradually outward—from nobles to bureaucrats, from the palace to the court, cascading from the top down.

Of course, in the process of dissemination, there was no shortage of exaggeration, embellishment, and even distortion of facts, and so, within a short span of time, the effect was a sensation that shook both the court and the public.

And those shaken the most, without question, were the noble families themselves—more specifically, the non-core, non-legitimate noble scions. Legitimate heirs were meant to carry on the family line; their futures lay in official careers, in military and political affairs. Opening frontiers and cultivating was hard, thankless labor—there was no way legitimate heirs would be sent to do such dangerous and arduous work.

If this were carried out, those relatives and old retainers' sons who had long attached themselves to the noble families would find their days ahead very difficult indeed. As for the court's past propaganda about overseas cultivation, it could fool the common rabble at the bottom, and could beguile a portion of disaffected illegitimate sons, but in the end it could hardly deceive those noble scions more accustomed to sucking blood and gnawing marrow.

Compared to the homeland, conditions abroad were indeed somewhat freer, and there were countless riches and resources to be exploited. But the difference between domestic and foreign conditions was like heaven and earth—for most people, even sleeping on a golden bed overseas and bathing in a river of agate was no match for being at home.

Loving ease and hating labor is human nature; for them, comfort came first. Although in recent years quite a few sons of noble families had participated in overseas expansion, that group remained a minority even now, and the vast majority of them were engaged only in basic goods trade. Those truly willing to swallow their pride, harden their hearts, and plunge deep into the enterprise of expansion were as rare as phoenix feathers and qilin horns.

The ones who truly sacrificed and dedicated themselves were still the naval officers and soldiers, along with the hundreds of thousands of impoverished commoners—they too were filling the gap with their lives. Exceptions could not be ruled out, but this kind of hardship was truly not something that noble scions clad in brocade and fed on delicacies could endure.

That "painstaking care" of Emperor Liu's was something they could not comprehend. Besides, however high-sounding the rhetoric, the fundamental reason was still wanting them, the noble scions, to go overseas and carve out a world for the princes enfeoffed in the vassal states...

Of course, Emperor Liu did not care whether they understood, nor did he mind their opinions. Driving the nobles out of the country, sending them west and south, to develop overseas and to wreak havoc—this idea, while somewhat idealistic, was not something Emperor Liu expected to solve the problem once and for all.

It was simply that since the door had been opened outward, restrictions could be tightened within—strict discipline, and from now on, anyone who dared to commit wrongdoing would be severely punished by national law, and then they could hardly blame Emperor Liu for being heartless.

Even if he had to force them, he would compel those power-holders who could not restrain their grasping hands and their itching urge to exploit and oppress to develop outward. On the other hand, the Great Han's noble scions numbered in the tens of thousands—even if only one percent of those who went out to brave the world turned out to be exceptional talents who achieved something, that would still be adding bricks and tiles to Emperor Liu's blueprint of expansion.

If they could grow and strengthen, ultimately forming a new rentier class, a new military-political force, bringing new possibilities to the nation—that was what truly mattered.

At the same time, those who went out must also come back, gathering foreign resources and wealth to nourish the homeland—that was the ultimate goal, and only thus could a cycle be formed. Otherwise, was it really for the sake of developing overseas, spreading technology, and leading foreign natives toward civilization?

That the nobles loved pleasure was not wrong in itself—it was understandable; most people were ordinary mortals, and Emperor Liu never expected them to have lofty consciousness or grand ideals. What he cared about was always merely providing the material source for their enjoyment; as for how they enjoyed it, he did not mind, nor could he easily intervene.

Clinging to one's native soil, coveting the comfort of home—that was fine, even proper. They could simply earn plenty of money abroad, amass plenty of wealth, and then come back. If that were the case, no one would object—Emperor Liu would even welcome them with open arms.

Over the past ten or twenty years, the Pacification Commission had been propagandizing so vigorously precisely to cultivate this awareness and habit among nobles, officials, and commoners alike—and it had achieved modest results. Before and after, there had been fully dozens of examples of "penniless wretches before going to sea, millionaire magnates after returning home," returning in glory to their hometowns. Seeing it with one's own eyes had always been far more persuasive and stirring than any flowery propaganda.

Behind each of these exemplars lay hundreds or thousands of sacrifices. Overseas expansion had never been gentle or warm—it was likewise a history of blood and tears for those Han commoners daring to brave the seas. Every stronghold, every acre of farmland, every mine overseas was condensed with the bitter toil and sweat of the Great Han's merchants and people. Of course, the suffering endured by the local natives was twice as much again—but that had never been something the court or the Great Han's merchants and people needed to consider. They could hardly look after themselves; what leisure had they to spare for a pack of barbarians?

As the Great Han's ruling upper class, they had more sources of information and understood somewhat the truth of overseas expansion. Precisely because they knew the hardship involved, even knowing there were enormous profits to be had, those willing to lower themselves to practice it remained few. With the resources in their hands, getting a bit of meat and a bit of soup without lifting a finger was enough. After all, they were not like the common folk at the bottom, who had to gamble their lives to carve out a smooth path, achieve wealth, and rise in station.

In fact, those "successful figures" in the process of overseas expansion were already walking the path Emperor Liu expected. The gold, silver, grain, spices, timber, pearls, and agate—even slaves—from overseas were all being channeled back to nourish the homeland through them, contributing to the Great Han's prosperity.

As for the future, perhaps some changes would occur—after all, Emperor Liu had already promised enfeoffment, allowing nobles to possess their own territories and fiefs under the various vassal states. One's own land, after all, warranted a bit more attention.

But it could be anticipated that the vast majority of resources would still be transferred back to the homeland—this too was determined by their position. After all, for the nobles, the homeland was their foundation; without domestic support, no matter how much territory they occupied overseas, it would be nothing more than duckweed without roots.

Perhaps after long years of management, the situation would gradually change—the nobles' center of gravity might shift, their emphasis on overseas territories might increase, the resources invested might grow, and they might even slip free of the central realm's control.

But before that happened, the Great Han would have already seized enough wealth and resources. This was precisely what Emperor Liu anticipated—serving as a reservoir for venting the Great Han's internal contradictions. From a historical perspective, even if it extended the dynasty's fortunes a hundred years beyond the Former Han or the Li Tang, that would still be progress. And with the bonds of shared blood and lineage, it was nearly impossible for overseas territories to completely shake off China's influence.

Even viewed from the most pessimistic angle—should the day come when the Great Han fell, when the Liu descendants could no longer hold the throne—those overseas vassal states could still bear the responsibility of continuing the Liu clan's bloodline. Even if the dynasty perished, at least the clan would not be extinguished.

Enfeoff a few more princes, establish a few more overseas states—even if not all could be held, if even a single one survived, Emperor Liu's most basic goal would be achieved. And compared to making the Liu family's rule over China last for ten thousand generations, the likelihood of this coming to pass was far greater.