Chapter 2026: The Formation of a Market

Yiyang Tower stood on Yankang Avenue in the southwest of the prefectural seat, the largest tavern in Xinyang and a landmark building, its name taken from the original name of the prefecture.

Under the night sky, Xinyang City was dotted with the lights of ten thousand households, and the nightlife of the city's gentry and commoners was just beginning—though, when it came to richness and variety, the upper echelons of officials and merchants naturally took the lead.

During this period, Xinyang City was bustling—songs by day, dances by night, an entire scene of peace and prosperity. After all, the imperial carriage was lodged at Taikang Palace, and the whole of Shen Prefecture had to be cheerful, especially Xinyang City as its public face; the market absolutely could not be allowed to languish.

As always, appearances had to be maintained. Of course, even the cleverest housewife cannot cook without rice—with Xinyang's limited population and market, conjuring up the flourishing scene of the Kaibao golden age was no easy feat. But worthy merchants and friends had gathered from all directions, and together they were giving birth to Xinyang's prosperity.

No words could overstate the influence of an imperial tour. In the half month since the old Emperor had graced Shen Prefecture, Xinyang's population had exploded—mostly with outsiders, and not ordinary people at that.

Most held some status: if not meritorious nobles or officials, then landowners or merchants, or retainers and servants attached to them. And the officials were no ordinary officials—common mid- and low-ranking bureaucrats hardly had the qualifications to abandon their posts and travel all the way to Xinyang. Their purposes in coming varied: some sought power, some fame, some profit, some connections—and of course, some simply came to try their luck or do business.

Tens of thousands of people of every stripe surged in, bringing Xinyang not only boiling prosperity but also enormous pressure. A small-to-mid-sized city, even after the prefectural government's nearly fish-draining construction efforts, still had limited capacity to receive guests.

Originally, to meet the needs of the southern-touring nobles, the whole of Shen Prefecture—especially Xinyang County—had already been tightening its belt. The mighty had all manner of needs; setting aside everything else, daily necessities alone constituted a major demand, with over twenty thousand mouths to feed above and below.

And apart from the army, most of the nobles, though traveling "heavy," had only limited space for basic food and drink—most chose to source locally, especially specialty products. Take Xinyang's famous Nanwan fish: if the imperial presence lingered too long, it might well be fished clean.

Of course, the nobles paid for their consumption—they did not seize by force. Not because they were particularly law-abiding, but because the current atmosphere in Xinyang was sensitive, and everyone had to keep their tails tucked lest the old Emperor catch them at a fault and bring the rod down. Besides, any noble with the qualifications to accompany the old Emperor on tour—would they lack money for food and drink?

Xinyang's problem was not a matter of money but of supply. It could be said with certainty that from the moment the imperial carriage arrived, Xinyang had experienced shortages and price inflation. Shen Prefecture alone could never satisfy the needs of so many people.

And so, just as with the construction of Taikang Palace, it fell to the surrounding prefectures and counties to exert themselves. As a crossroads of four circuits, its thoroughfare advantage now came into play.

Reported up by Shen Prefecture and coordinated by the field headquarters, a dozen or so surrounding prefectures and counties—such as Cai, Deng, Guang, Huang, An, and Sui—as well as Chen, Ying, Ying, E, and Fu, which did not share borders but were relatively close, and even Xiang Prefecture and Jiangling Prefecture—had their local governments rapidly organize manpower, muster supplies, and transport them to the traveling palace. Shen Prefecture alone bore a heavy burden, but with such distribution, the pressure was greatly reduced.

Thus, over the past half month, on the official roads leading to Shen Prefecture, one could often see official transport convoys from surrounding prefectures and counties, led by County Defenders or County Deputy Magistrates, and not a few with prefectural officials or County Magistrates personally escorting.

For the surrounding local governments, it was like fighting a major battle, with the only change being that the recipient of the money, grain, and supplies was the traveling palace. In this matter, the local governments were quite diligent—they had to be, lest they be accused of slighting the Son of Heaven and suspected of lacking loyalty to the sovereign.

For the sake of their official caps, bureaucrats would abandon any bottom line—and besides, it wasn't the bureaucrats who paid the price. For the local commoners, it was a burden; no matter how the forms were beautified, the pressure would ultimately be shifted onto them.

However, under the unified coordination of the field headquarters' Commander-in-Chief, each surrounding county only needed to transport supplies once a month, with quantities fixed, taking their carrying capacity into account.

All in all, for the officials and people of the various regions, a little endurance, a little resistance, and it would pass. Whether it was an inspection tour or a summer retreat, the Emperor couldn't stay in the traveling palace forever—he would eventually return to the capital.

The old Emperor naturally knew of the field headquarters' arrangements and did not object—after all, the needs of the large crowd at the field headquarters were a practical reality, and the notion of "not disturbing the localities" depended on how one interpreted it.

Still, on the basis of the field headquarters' unified arrangements, he issued an additional edict requiring local governments to cherish the people's strength and heed the people's sentiments. In secret, he also had word spread: anyone who stirred up popular unrest would be executed on the spot.

Even so, he was not reassured. While having the Imperial City and Wude offices monitor the situation, he also secretly dispatched censors to tour the various regions and inspect. After the Liu Jiqian affair, the old Emperor had completely lost confidence in the lower limits of local bureaucrats.

Of course, the government's collection and coordination was one thing, but it could not solve all problems—the nobles' needs were diverse, far beyond what the basic supplies provided by local officials and people could satisfy.

Therefore, outside the official sphere, private merchants and commoners also began to exert themselves. Demand meant market, and while the nobles' needs were not easily met, there was no shortage of people racking their brains to satisfy them. In the capital this was a trifling matter; in Shen Prefecture it was something of a rarity.

Merchants had keener noses for markets. Shen Prefecture's demand for supplies was tied to how long the Emperor stayed—and at present, it was clear that stay would not be short.

So, bringing goods over basically meant profit; even purely for gain, it was enough to tempt many. If it wasn't obvious at first, as time passed and word spread, more and more people joined in.

However, although Shen Prefecture's market appeared vast with no ceiling in sight, a limit existed nonetheless. What truly attracted commercial interests was a policy the Shen Prefecture government had previously promulgated—a policy only Shen Prefecture was qualified to issue: during the imperial carriage's stay, all commercial taxes within its jurisdiction were waived, with free passage in and out.

The Great Han's commercial taxes, after decades of layer upon layer of increases, had reached a balance point. On general goods, the rate had risen step by step from the early one-in-thirty, one-in-twenty, one-in-fifteen, to the current one-in-ten—though there were also places at one-in-five.

At the same time, with the refinement of commercial law, especially in tax collection, the court exhausted every means to plug loopholes, focusing on towns and markets of all sizes. The vast countryside and wilds were beyond reach, but as long as goods entered a city or market, they were first skimmed by the court—tax evasion and leakage were another matter.

For the Great Han's merchants, the current commercial environment was excellent—their tolerance could be said to set a precedent for all dynasties—and the only complaint was that taxes were too heavy.

Against this backdrop, one can imagine the enormous reaction among the merchant community when Shen Prefecture suddenly issued such a tax-exemption policy. Those from too far away, deterred by high transport costs, might think twice, but nearby traveling merchants with a bit of vision and daring were already on the move.

And so merchants from all directions converged on Xinyang. Even the itinerant peddlers who mainly worked the villages could not resist the urge to come see the prefectural seat—after all, whenever they visited a city, they had to pay their few coppers in taxes.

Special circumstances, special policies—they gave birth to a commercial frenzy in Shen Prefecture. All kinds of goods began to converge there, and all kinds of hot money piled in. In a short time, its economic vitality even surpassed the capital's—even if it was a frenzy short on rationality.

Many people, many merchants—and many snakes and monsters too, and many messy affairs. Fortunately, public security remained good; for one thing, the imperial army stationed nearby was a massive deterrent. At the same time, the Shen Prefecture government was truly ruthless in maintaining order.

At the same time, there was no shortage of news—true and false rumors flew everywhere, of every kind: about the traveling palace, the imperial house, the nobles, the government, the market...

As the largest tavern in Xinyang City, it had become a news exchange—it could be said that half of Xinyang City's rumors flowed out from here.

And before dusk, a piece of news that could be called explosive for Shen Prefecture's officials and people spread: Prefectural Administrator Liu Jiqian had been transferred—and promoted, about to take up a post in Suzhou, rising several ranks at once.

Toward this news, the feelings of Shen Prefecture's officials and people were probably the most complex. The officials involved could breathe a great sigh of relief, and the nobles accompanying the imperial carriage could relax as well—after all, it meant the situation was under control, the matter had settled, and the old Emperor had clearly made his decision.

As for the ordinary gentry and commoners, their grievances seemed somewhat irrelevant—at least Liu Jiqian's transfer could barely count as good news. On the other hand, the influx of merchants and resources was also a good thing for Shen Prefecture itself; whatever they did, whatever they served, the locals could gain some benefit from it.

Before the brightly lit Yiyang Tower, Liu Jiqian stood there with two attendants, dressed in plain clothes, his posture relaxed, his expression calm, seemingly oblivious to the knowing gazes from inside and outside the building.

He was naturally waiting for someone, and a guest who could make a dignified Prefectural Administrator wait in person was clearly no ordinary figure. About the time it takes an incense stick to burn, a luxurious two-horse carriage came slowly along the avenue and stopped before the main gate.

Liu Jiqian, who had stood as still as a mountain, immediately stepped forward. After some maneuvering, the passenger revealed himself: a fair, beardless face, a solemn bearing, deep eyes, a jade crown on his head, purple robes on his body—the whole of him exuding the formidable aura of one in power.

Director of the Palace Directorate, Liu Gui.