Chapter 2005: The Tinker

One thing is beyond doubt: no matter how Liu Min planned to reform, or how strong his resolve, matters in Anxi had still not reached the point where he could act on his own authority.

He could certainly speak his own mind, but the consequences could be severe. Therefore, regarding the reform of Anxi, Liu Min personally drafted a detailed set of regulations and submitted them to the court. A five-hundred-li express rider, whipping his horse at full speed, braving wind and rain without cease, arrived in Luoyang in the latter part of the sixth month.

Rain poured down in torrents, thunder rumbled across the sky, yet the atmosphere inside Guangzheng Hall was unexpectedly relaxed. Chief among the reasons was the Crown Prince Liu Yang's hearty laughter, a rare sight on a prince ordinarily so reserved. The assembled ministers and grandees naturally felt their spirits lighten as well.

"Lately, it's been rare to receive good news. Qian Ruoshui, Yao Yigong, and Wang Ji are all rare capable officials and diligent administrators!" Liu Yang said cheerfully.

How to put it? Over the past few months, the political scene of the Great Han had never been stable—incidents everywhere, hardly a moment of peace. The central government needed no elaboration: from the Crown Prince at the top down to court officials at the bottom, everyone lived under the shadow of the old Emperor, whose unpredictable temper made one tread as if on thin ice.

In the provinces, the northwestern officialdom had undergone another great purge. Especially in the two circuits of Hexi and Longyou, half the officials had been replaced, including no small number of high-ranking officers above the prefectural level. More than two hundred men needed their heads taken off. The impact spread, and quite a few officials in the Guannei Circuit also fell from power.

The "reform faction" led by Wang Yucheng naturally felt vindicated, but the governance of He and Long was neglected—in many places, administration even fell into brief chaos and paralysis.

Seeing the situation escalate and the aftereffects of the purge grow ever more pronounced, the Crown Prince Liu Yang could no longer sit still. He personally went to see the old Emperor and reported in detail on the situation and trends of the maladministration in He and Long.

Between Emperor and Crown Prince, there was a certain exchange of words, which, rendered in translation, went like this:

Crown Prince: Does Your Majesty feel it is enough?

Emperor: Do you feel it is enough?

Crown Prince: More than enough!

Emperor: Why? Going too far is as bad as falling short?

Crown Prince: Local governance is tottering; the powerful clans are turning again!

Then, though no explicit edict was issued, the purge of the northwestern officialdom in fact ceased. The inspectors and censors launched no further large-scale investigations or impeachments, and personnel affairs saw no further wholesale replacements. Great matters gradually shrank into small ones, and then into nothing.

Compared to previous occasions, this purge of the northwestern officialdom was shorter in duration and not large in scale, essentially confined to the two circuits of He and Long—yet its impact was by no means small, indeed even more profound.

Killing people was only one aspect; more important was the Crown Prince's warning: the powerful clans would turn again. To be fair, the bureaucrats of the Great Han had their own ugly side, but from the standpoint of maintaining the Great Han Empire and consolidating the Liu family's realm, they were also pillars. The meritorious aristocracy needed bureaucrats to balance them, the powerful clans needed bureaucrats to restrain them, and the common people needed bureaucrats to govern them.

Though there was no absolute line between the former two—indeed, there was much collusion and complicity—at least under the current political situation, the bureaucrats of the Great Han, especially those from humble families, held major positive significance for the Liu family's realm.

Officialdom needed anti-corruption and integrity campaigns; the ruling class needed self-purification to maintain vitality and fighting strength. Indeed, it was even necessary to use the heads and blood of corrupt officials to ease contradictions and soothe popular resentment.

But everything must have its measure. The court, in the present northwest, needed to heed the principle of not overcorrecting. The officialdom had been purged, the military and civil officials had been thoroughly tormented, and the court's authority had been established—but what of governance? In fact, it had been steadily slipping.

After all, if the bureaucrats could not even look after themselves, what heart or energy would they have to govern the powerful clans and the common folk? Over the past thirty years, the northwestern officialdom had been rectified several times. When it moved, it always produced major cases with wide-reaching implications.

And after several rounds of rectification, in certain places, a trend of power slipping from the government's hands had already appeared. Taking advantage of the court's purges, some powerful clans and lineages rose again, usurping local governing authority.

At the same time, to rule the northwest, the military and civil system had long absorbed no small number of clan and tribal forces. Though the court's purge was an indiscriminate attack and those people also suffered heavy losses, those who slipped through the net seized the opportunity to expand their influence and grow stronger. The Yang clan of Ganzhou was the best example.

In sum, Liu Yang's remonstrance struck precisely at Emperor Liu's psychology. Had Liu Yang used the tired old arguments of political turmoil or unstable popular sentiment to admonish, he would very likely have drawn only a scolding from the old Emperor.

In Emperor Liu's view, when the court vigorously rectified officialdom and struck at corruption and tyranny, what was thrown into chaos was only those bureaucrats; what grew uneasy was only the rent-seeking class. As for popular sentiment—first of all, the very definition of the word "people" needed careful consideration.

As for the common folk, so long as the bureaucrats did not do evil—indeed, even without them doing anything at all—the people would remain as steady as Mount Tai. Between bureaucrats and common folk, there had never been anything but a relationship of rule and exploitation. The purpose of rectifying He and Long was precisely because local officials had been too wanton in their actions, exploiting too harshly, with too ugly a table manner. The common folk could only applaud—how could there be any complaint?

Therefore, such rhetoric could never move the old Emperor. But when the Crown Prince raised the matter of local governing power and the turning of clans and powerful families, the old Emperor, who was still no fool on major matters, naturally had to take it seriously.

In the old Emperor's eyes, corrupt officials were detestable, hateful, but not frightening—they were toilet paper, available at any time to wipe with. But if the pursuit of corruption and rectification of officialdom led to local governing power slipping away, then the problem was far more serious.

Thus, stopping in time was only reasonable. At the same time, having brought down so many officials, the maladministration of the northwest had been corrected, and the court's original intent had been fulfilled. Next came a new round of the cycle, beginning with pacifying the northwestern officialdom.

In fact, the ills of the northwestern officialdom had been repeatedly prohibited yet never ceased, even escalating to the point of governing power slipping away. Tracing it to its root, the fault lay once again with the old Emperor.

No other reason: the old Emperor grew more impatient with age. Whenever something happened, he loved to launch campaigns, to implicate others, to expand the scope of attack, to carry out large-scale purges. How could such methods fail to produce problems?

Hasty action could certainly resolve the ills of the moment, but the aftereffects could not be made to disappear by the old Emperor's will. Under the current limitations of information and transportation, administrative efficiency was already low—and to go all-out in the northwest was precisely to give the local powerful clans an opportunity to raise their heads.

Compared to that, the Crown Prince Liu Yang's approach of steady progress was more suited to the present Great Han. The methods differed, but the ultimate goal could still be achieved, and it also better accorded with the principle of "governing a great state is like cooking a small fish."

The politics of the Great Han should trend toward greater rationality, not be left to the old Emperor's whims. The political rules of the Great Han had originated with Emperor Liu, but now many of those rules had been broken by him himself—which was highly detrimental to the political ecology of the Great Han.

It must be said that the old Emperor was no longer well suited to continue ruling this empire. The various problems arising from the old Emperor had already deeply affected the empire, affecting every aspect of it—and the Crown Prince's patching of the leaks had in fact already begun.

Compared to the He and Long purge, there was also the oft-repeated issue of tax reform. Though it was no longer so earth-shaking, its impact on the empire was clearly more far-reaching.

Three years had passed since the tax reform began. By this year, it had been fully rolled out across the entire country, and at the same time, various problems had begun to erupt in concentration. The most conspicuous problems were two. First, resistance from the localities still existed—they dared not confront the court face to face, but their tactics of circumvention and maneuvering were endless.

Take the land survey for example: the court had issued several edicts ordering all circuits and prefectures to compile and report their survey results, but to this day, only four places had done so—the capital region, Henan, Yulin, and Jiangnan.

The remaining circuits and prefectures either had not completed the work, or had reported data that was false—the kind that was obviously fake at a glance. The worst of all was He and Long: after three years, they still had not even begun. Asked why, the answer was always "the Western Expedition."

Whether reprimanded or punished, the localities always had something to say. Of course, this problem was widespread, but there would eventually come a day of resolution, and in the end a set of data satisfactory to the court would be produced.

By comparison, the second problem was far more headache-inducing: the matter of the officials implementing the tax reform. Any reform, any policy, to be promoted, cannot do without executors. But the quality of executors was uneven, and their understanding of policy varied in depth. Once in the localities, it was naturally hard to avoid a pandemonium of demons, and what infuriated the higher-ups most were those who paid lip service while acting otherwise, and those who deliberately distorted policy.

Since the beginning of this year, whether from supervisory organs or local reports, impeachments against tax-reform officials for "acting outrageously" had flown into the Hall of State Affairs like snowflakes.

Among them, there were certainly attacks on the reform faction with much that was untrue; likewise, many people and many problems were indeed real, enough to make one's liver burn with anger.

And the three men—"Qian, Yao, Wang"—mentioned by the Crown Prince Liu Yang were precisely three officials who, in their localities, had outstanding achievements, excellent official reputations, and notable results in tax reform.