Chapter 2028: Picking Up Again

Ma Qing's concerns were quite justified. Following Liu Jiqian's transfer, the officialdom of Shen Prefecture underwent a major reshuffling, one that even carried a certain purgative intent.

He guessed accurately that the chief officials of Shen Prefecture's one prefecture and three counties—not a single one omitted—could not possibly remain in their posts. Where he guessed wrong was that the outcome was not transfer, but execution.

Xinyang County Magistrate Feng Shan, Yingshan County Magistrate Wu Changlin, along with several prefectural government officials, were all taken away and executed—beheaded first, tried afterward, then the matter was publicly announced to the gentry and commoners of Shen Prefecture. Of course, nominally they were convicted of deceiving the sovereign, abusing power, accepting bribes, and perverting the law to harm the people.

What this disposition was meant to convey to the ignorant lower classes was that Shen Prefecture's misgovernment and the people's suffering were all the work of these corrupt and tyrannical pests manipulating matters from above and below, and had no direct connection to the construction of Taikang Palace—and even if there were, it was these corrupt officials who had blinded and deceived the court.

In sum, the Emperor was also a "victim," the Emperor was also innocent, and the Emperor's glorious image must not be sullied. At the same time, the Emperor was also furious, which was why he had struck down with deadly force to set things right and restore a clean slate to the gentry and commoners of Shen Prefecture.

As for how many people this pack of nonsense could fool, and to what degree the objective could be achieved—that was not something the old Emperor primarily concerned himself with. The old Emperor deeply understood one principle: the common people are easy to deceive, and once deceived, easy to pacify. By comparison, the powerful and the bureaucrats were far harder to deal with.

Therefore, the Shen Prefecture affair could not possibly blow over so gently. He had to make some kind of statement, just as he had repeatedly done before—kill the chicken to warn the monkey.

If every locality did things the way Liu Jiqian had done in Shen Prefecture, the Great Han's realm could not withstand much of that. Letting Liu Jiqian off and even promoting him had already set a bad precedent.

Thus, the old Emperor could only use chickens of somewhat weaker representativeness to warn all the monkeys under heaven: before doing such things, weigh carefully whether you are a Liu Jiqian, whether you have that kind of connection, and whether what you encounter is an affair like Taikang Palace.

In fact, had the imperial entourage not still been in Shen Prefecture, and had the stability and prosperity of Shen Prefecture not been tied to the dignity of the Son of Heaven, the old Emperor would have wanted to purge Shen Prefecture from top to bottom.

Of course, doing so was not impossible either—after all, the old Emperor was hardly short of personnel at the moment. Among the ministers accompanying the imperial entourage, those with local administrative experience could be found in abundance. Pick a few at random, assign them to posts above their rank, and let them wield authority over prefectural and county governance—that would solve the problem.

It was just that, in the end, the old Emperor did not want his trip to Shen Prefecture to be drenched in too much blood and storm.

Throughout the entire process, the one most shaken was Ma Qing, the former Luoshan County Magistrate. Of the three county magistrates, two had been beheaded, leaving only him. He did not feel he had anything special about him; the only difference, perhaps, was that he had been quick to read the situation and closely followed Liu Jiqian's lead. Thus, when the transfer order came down—even if it was a demotion to serve as a county vice-magistrate in Chuzhou, southern Zhe—he was profusely grateful, kowtowing in thanks again and again.

At least his life was preserved, and so there was still hope. Moreover, in terms of "personal integrity" as an official, Ma Qing was like Liu Jiqian—not to say he had none, but he rarely sought private gain for himself. In this regard, he was quite clean, unlike the other two counties, which were mired in filth up to their necks.

As the storm rose and gradually subsided, the situation in Shen Prefecture steadily stabilized. Vast resources continued to pour in, Xinyang's prosperity kept steaming upward, and the old Emperor could finally relax a little, staying comfortably in Taikang Palace to enjoy the blessings and the cool air.

Yet after this upheaval, how could he sit still!

To be sure, in his handling of the Shen Prefecture affair, the old Emperor's every action exuded a sense of decline, conservatism, even senility. But the various things he had seen and heard on his journey south had still deeply stirred him—even stung that proud, obstinate heart of his.

The old Emperor had indeed grown lazy and lax, but he had not sunk all the way down. When it came to matters involving imperial power and the maintenance of rule, his keen sensitivity was merely covered in dust—it did not mean he had completely lost that awareness.

Looking back over the old Emperor's life, it could be called magnificent and sweeping, but to say it was full of dramatic ups and downs—not quite. It could be said that apart from the anxieties and reversals of his early years, the old Emperor's subsequent life had been fairly smooth, without having experienced any great setbacks.

Even the two large-scale northern expeditions of the Qianyou and Kaibao eras were merely a historical whirlwind; their success or failure was not fatal to the Great Han or to the old Emperor's rule.

From the very beginning of his reign, the old Emperor had always walked the correct path, achieving a series of brilliant and great victories universally recognized by the world. He himself had been immersed in them, intoxicated by his own accomplishments.

Judging by results and facts, the old Emperor could well be called a sovereign for the ages. However, setting aside these halos and analyzing him as a person and his experiences, one might arrive at another kind of conclusion.

In his early years, his brilliance and martial prowess were for the sake of preserving the fledgling Northern Han's realm and protecting the Liu family's lives and property; in his youth, his aggressive ambition and diligent pioneering were for unifying the realm and restoring peace to all under heaven; in middle age, he grew suspicious and jealous, and there were some lapses in court governance, but his grip on power and maintenance of rule remained resolute, thorough, and single-minded in purpose. But then came his twilight years—

As the saying goes, the times make the hero. The old Emperor, this hero, was precisely made by his era, and for a long time he was favored by heaven. But in his later years, especially the changes of recent years, perhaps the final conclusion points to only one thing: he was also flesh and blood, no more exalted than his "peers."

The old Emperor of the past had always maintained a sense of crisis, remained highly vigilant about everything, and was skilled at summarizing and reflecting. Add to that Empress Fu's reminders and admonitions, and that was how his brilliance was kept fresh for so long.

Otherwise, given the nature the old Emperor had displayed in recent years, after the success of the Kaibao northern expedition he would probably have lain flat and done nothing more—there would have been no golden decade after that.

After Empress Fu passed away, the old Emperor had no one left to "check and balance" him. Aside from his still bone-deep obsession with power and undiminished desire for it, he had slackened in every other respect. The reasons were all-encompassing: goals were lost, his thinking had slipped, and his body could no longer keep up.

Even to this day, it is hard to say exactly when the old Emperor's change began, or how it developed to its current extent. Empress Fu's death was merely the surface turning point; the change in his mentality could perhaps be traced back even earlier.

After the Shen Prefecture affair, the old Emperor, for once, engaged in some reflection on these matters and these people, and also examined himself. It fell far short of sudden enlightenment, but the process was genuinely painful, and his heart was greatly tormented. The old Emperor still found it hard to face himself directly.

On the other hand, staying inside this luxurious and splendid Taikang Palace—what kind of insight could he possibly reflect his way to? Even if he did, it would only be idle fancy.

And so, the old Emperor, whose heart remained unsettled, suddenly recalled Wang Yucheng's earlier question. How long had it been since he had personally attended to affairs, observed the people's condition with his own eyes, looked upon the Great Han's rivers and mountains, and seen with his own eyes what kind of life the Great Han's common folk actually lived?

"Where are Wenhuan and Wenji?" One day, the old Emperor suddenly asked.

If it were Yan Tuo, faced with such a sudden question, he would probably have answered off the top of his head—not to mention anything else, he had a clear grasp of all the big and small matters around the old Emperor.

Hu De had it harder; he had to go inquire first before he could give an answer. However, the old Emperor did not have much objection to Hu De's slowness—being steady and dutiful was just fine.

Yan Tuo had been too clever, too sharp, which led to too much selfishness and too many personal considerations, and in the end, even lost his life.

His reactions might be somewhat slow, but Hu De's efficiency in handling matters was not low. He only kept the old Emperor waiting for a quarter of an hour before returning to report: "Your Majesty, the Marquis of Wannian is hunting at the foot of the mountain, and His Highness Wenji is reading in his bedchamber."

Hearing this, the old Emperor pondered briefly, then immediately said: "Reading and practicing martial arts—these are things done in the capital! This palace dazzles the eyes so much one cannot even keep them open—how could anyone read books here?"

Without waiting for Hu De to react, the old Emperor reached out and gave his orders: "Notify the two of them. Have them pack up and accompany Us on an inspection tour tomorrow!"

"Your Majesty is going on an inspection tour!" Hu De was startled, and hastily said: "This servant will immediately notify people to make arrangements—"

"Arrange what?" Seeing his manner, the old Emperor angrily cut him off: "With a grand procession and full regalia, what could you possibly see!"

Indeed, not long ago, it had been precisely with a grand procession and the imperial entourage entering the city that the old Emperor had detected something amiss among the gentry and commoners of Shen Prefecture—and that had already been after the truth was concealed. If there were no concealment at all, then what was the actual state of Shen Prefecture's people's livelihood and sentiments? That was perhaps what the old Emperor wanted to probe.

Such were the old Emperor's thoughts, but Hu De was greatly alarmed. The old Emperor wanted to go on an inspection tour in plain clothes—how could that be allowed? After thinking briefly, he steeled himself and asked: "Aside from the two imperial grandsons, may this servant ask whom Your Majesty wishes to accompany you, who will guard you, and where you intend to tour?"

Hearing these questions, the old Emperor grew somewhat impatient, but he also knew in his heart that he could not truly sneak down to inspect things in secret—if he tried, the people around him would rather die than let him out.

After mulling it over, he said: "Have Wang Xuanzhen bring that Wang Qinruo along. Have this man lead Us around the territory under Shen Prefecture's jurisdiction and explain things. As for others, no need to disturb them. As for the guard—who is on duty at the palace today?"

"Your Majesty, it is Battalion Commander Li Jihe!"

"Have Li Jihe pick a squad of guards, dressed in plain clothes, accompanying Us and guarding Our side!" the old Emperor ordered. "As for where we go—wherever the road takes us!"

"And what about Taikang Palace? If the Empress and the ministers ask, how should we answer?" Hu De was still full of misgivings.

"It's just one inspection tour—where do all these worries come from?" The old Emperor was thoroughly irritated: "Spread the word that We are in a bad mood and will not see anyone for the next few days!"

"Yes!" Seeing that the old Emperor's patience was nearly exhausted, Hu De dared not prattle on any further and could only answer helplessly.

Does a person's presence or absence make a difference to the atmosphere? Could anyone be fooled? The powerful of the Great Han were not blind, nor were they deaf. Even if the old Emperor did not see anyone for a month, as long as he was there, they would all behave themselves.

But these thoughts—how could Hu De dare voice them? He could only arrange things according to the old Emperor's wishes. Hu De was heavy-hearted, and on the other hand, Li Jihe, whom the old Emperor had personally selected to guard him, felt both honored and under immense pressure.

First of all, should he report this upward—from the Inner Palace Army to the Commander-in-Chief of the field headquarters—should he let these superiors know? If he did not report, and something went wrong with the imperial carriage during the tour, that was not something his small arms and legs could bear. But if he did report, would he not be immediately defying the imperial will?

As for whom to select and the guard plan—those were secondary. No matter how the Inner Palace Army's ethos had changed over the years, the guards' basic quality was still solid, and manpower was absolutely guaranteed.

No matter how agonizing and difficult the underlings found things, the old Emperor was as good as his word. The very next morning, when the sky was just beginning to lighten, he set out in high spirits, and even rarely rode a horse himself, descending the mountain under the cover of dawn, accompanied by several dozen attendants.

What the old Emperor did not know was that before he had even set out, the high-ranking nobles accompanying the imperial entourage already knew basically everything about his private inspection. How much they knew or how little did not matter—the wind had reached them. What's more, they even knew the time the old Emperor left the temporary palace and his personnel arrangements. The only things uncertain were his destination and purpose, for those, after all, depended on the old Emperor's mood.

Xinyang naturally would not be the destination. The old Emperor had heard something of the bustle there over this period, and he was no longer interested in that kind of prosperity that had swelled to the point of being somewhat false. On the contrary, after returning to the capital, he could have someone look into what sort of scene Xinyang presented then.

As for the rest, there were only the two counties of Yingshan and Luoshan. Between the two, he naturally leaned toward Luoshan—otherwise, bringing Wang Qinruo along would have lost much of its meaning.

Xinyang could truly be called a land of fish and rice—abundant population, rich products, and fine scenery too: mountains and waters, lakes and tea, and stories as well. These were also important considerations in the selection of the site for Taikang Palace.

However, though also under Shen Prefecture's jurisdiction, Luoshan's situation was somewhat less satisfactory. First of all, there was transportation. The old Emperor had always taken pride in the Great Han's "straight roads." Those broad, level highways were like blood vessels, connecting all parts of the Great Han and conveying orders and directives from the central government—they were also an important symbol of the Great Han's centralized authority.

But in fact, the construction of straight roads had only extended to the Great Han's major cities and certain key transportation junctures. Constrained by practical conditions, the Great Han had actually only taken a small step in transportation infrastructure, and in recent years, the construction of straight roads had become increasingly perfunctory. Before construction costs dropped significantly and construction techniques improved, it would be very difficult to make any major breakthroughs.

The journey from Xinyang to Luoshan was truly beyond words—both water and land routes existed, with the Lion River flowing from southwest to northeast, winding its way toward Luoshan, which was the first choice for most travelers. As for the official roads on land, they were narrow and irregular, full of depressions, cracks, and potholes—after one trip, your stomach would be completely jolted empty.

It happened to be the rainy season, with torrential downpours one after another, leaving the roads mired in mud for extended periods. The old Emperor, who had chosen to travel by land, was thoroughly worn down by it all—riding a horse was exhausting, and riding in a carriage was no easier.

At the time, he had sighed and remarked that the Great Han still needed to put more effort into bridge-building and road-paving.

Luoshan County had only twenty percent plains, mainly distributed along the Huai River and Lion River basins, with even less arable land—the county's registered farmland did not exceed one hundred twenty thousand mu, though the per capita figure came to about four mu or so. But per capita data like that was merely for reference—how could it reflect the true situation?

And this was still just the paper figure. According to Wang Qinruo's account, even adding in the concealed lands, it would be difficult to exceed two hundred thousand mu.

Among the registered farmland, a portion of abandoned fields also had to be excluded. This caught the old Emperor's attention—in this peaceful era, with the population growing, people would only complain about having too little land. When there were no disasters or calamities, why would there still be abandoned fields?

Wang Qinruo's answer left the old Emperor silent. The reason was simple—the competition for arable land and population was the same as in most regions of the country. Over the past thirty years, Luoshan County had experienced a surge in population, and by now, the county's registered adult population had already exceeded thirty-five thousand.

Among this population, strong and able laborers were never too many to have, and in the competition for this elite segment of the population, the wealthy landlords had perseverance, while the bureaucrats, shifting with their postings and transfers, lacked lasting resolve.

Over the decades, one could watch as the number of self-cultivating peasants steadily declined and registered farmland decreased, even as the overall population and cultivated land rose. The surplus population and land were naturally absorbed by those powerful landlords.

Wang Qinruo had nothing to hide from the old Emperor. Once he laid out his understanding of Luoshan County's development over the past thirty years, it immediately provoked the old Emperor's fury.

All along, the old Emperor had considered himself to be fighting against those bureaucrats and landlords, struggling against the contradictions of land, and resisting that nearly unstoppable tide of historical development.

To that end, he had indeed done quite a lot, carrying out numerous reforms. But the situation in Luoshan County once again slapped him across his old face. What he had believed to be the foundations he had laid and the strength he had added for the Great Han Empire and for the Liu family's dynasty—that had truly been nothing but wishful thinking.

The old Emperor angrily demanded of Wang Qinruo what these local officials were doing, and why they did not strike against these repeat-offending powerful clans to uphold the authority of the government.

Wang Qinruo's answer was bold and also very honest—how could a rotating official contend with hereditary clans? In the past, there had been strong County Magistrates, but they could only suppress for a time. Once they were transferred away and someone else came, if that person was even slightly weaker, it became difficult to rein them in. What was even more frightening was that some people simply chose to collude with local powerful clans, seeking fame, profit, and political achievements, even requiring their cooperation to maintain public order.

The old Emperor knew in his heart that Wang Qinruo was speaking sense. Compared to clan powers that had taken root for decades or even a century, a county official serving a term of three to five years indeed found it no easy task to suppress local clan powers over the long term.

And the rotating official system was one of the most distinctive features of a centralized imperial court. In this regard, one could only take its great benefits and endure its minor harms. The contest between the government and the powerful clans could only maintain a dynamic balance in the short term; in the long run, the expansion of local clan power was difficult to avoid. Even that so-called balance required an environment of strong central authority.

The reasoning was sound, but for someone like the old Emperor, getting him to acknowledge and accept it was exceedingly difficult. With frustration pent up inside, he wanted to vent. The old Emperor asked, "I hear that the County Magistrate of Luoshan has performed quite well in his post. What kind of governance approach does he use toward the clan powers?"

In that instant, Wang Qinruo knew that Magistrate Ma's future and fate might hang on his few words. Recalling how Ma Qing had stormed into his home and taken him away, Wang Qinruo very much wanted to take his revenge here.

But after that brief impulse, he was overcome by extremely restrained composure. Wang Qinruo also knew that accompanying the Emperor on this journey was a rare opportunity for himself, one that concerned his official career. In his conduct, he ought to be cautious.

Therefore, suppressing the urge for revenge, Wang Qinruo answered in a measured tone: "Magistrate Ma governs with leniency and deliberation, and he does indeed rely somewhat on the great local clans, but he has not simply capitulated. The overall situation of the county has remained under his control all along!"

Hearing Wang Qinruo say this, the old Emperor's expression improved somewhat, and he couldn't help but cast a surprised glance at him. After pondering for a moment, he asked again, "How is the tax reform in Luoshan progressing? How is the land survey coming along?"

At the question, Wang Qinruo's face showed embarrassment. After hesitating briefly, he answered honestly—there had been almost no progress. This angered the old Emperor once again. The tax reform was a major policy that the court had already clearly ordered to be implemented nationwide. It had been over a year now, and there was still no progress—was this tiny Luoshan County trying to overturn heaven?

Though shaken by the old Emperor's fury, Wang Qinruo still strove to steady himself and calmly explained, carefully pointing out that over the past two years or more, Luoshan County's main efforts had been devoted to handling orders from the prefectural office, with all resources concentrated on the construction of Taikang Palace. Naturally, other matters had been neglected.

And so, the old Emperor was choked silent again. No matter how he circled around, he always came back to Taikang Palace. He truly had not expected that the influence of Taikang Palace's construction would reach so deeply into every aspect of local governance, even delaying the court's major reform plans.

For a brief moment, the old Emperor was seized by an impulse to issue an edict to burn down Taikang Palace. That was probably his dust-covered sense of shame reasserting itself.