Chapter 2030: Some Things Never Change

The old emperor's gaze was calm, but Wang Qinruo looked as if he wanted to devour someone. His hesitation lasted only a moment before he lowered his head and said in a deep voice: "Reporting to Your Majesty, for villagers to act this way, there are no more than two reasons."

"First, mountain folk are isolated and insular, lacking in experience, and often harbor wariness toward visitors from outside their own region—this is also a necessary measure for maintaining rural security. Moreover, Your Majesty's entourage is not small in number; the guards are stalwart and elite, dressed in fine attire, and carrying weapons—"

"That still does not warrant such an extreme reaction!" the old emperor said coldly.

"Yes! Yes!" Wang Qinruo responded twice in succession, then gritted his teeth and said: "Second, in your servant's estimation, it may be related to the county office. Previously, the county office received a directive from the prefectural office, stating that the imperial carriage was stopping at Shenzhou, and requiring all offices at every level under its jurisdiction to handle matters cautiously and exhort the common people, so as to avoid unrest. Based on this, the county office issued a public notice, circulated to every township and village—"

Wang Qinruo's words were somewhat veiled, but the old emperor understood at once. His grizzled brows twitched as he turned his head and said to Liu Wenhuan and Liu Wenji, the brothers keeping close at his side: "You both heard that, didn't you!"

"We heard!" The two brothers exchanged a glance and replied with cupped fists.

"Remember this well—these local officials deal with imperial orders exactly like this. And this is only the surface of their many methods of deceiving the court!" the old emperor said in a grave tone.

"Yes!"

The old emperor spoke these words coolly, but Wang Qinruo's heart raced with panic, his spirit unsettled. He then heard the old emperor say: "More than the county office's methods, I am more curious—was that scene just now the villagers' genuine reaction? That young man leading them…"

Hearing his grandfather muttering to himself, Liu Wenhuan spoke up: "'Rugged mountains breed unruly folk'—could this be what that saying refers to?"

At these words, the old emperor abruptly turned his head and stared straight at Liu Wenhuan, startling him into swallowing a mouthful of saliva. He said in a low voice: "Grandfather, your grandson misspoke!"

Withdrawing his gaze, the old emperor fell into contemplation. After a moment, he said: "Not exactly wrong, I suppose—but this realm is precisely built from these countless unruly folk!"

Beside him, Li Jihe chose the moment to ask: "Your Majesty, what should we do next?"

"What do you think?"

Almost without thinking, Li Jihe admonished the old emperor: "The countryside is fraught with unpredictable danger. For the safety of Your Majesty's person, I earnestly beg Your Majesty to return to the capital!"

Hearing this, the old emperor could not help sizing up Li Jihe. Seeing his earnest, rigid expression, he could not help but scold with a laugh: "Li Jihe, you are the captain of the guard—why are you always neglecting your proper duties, and why are you always thinking of sending me back?

This Longgang countryside, though remote, is still land under imperial civilization, home to subjects of the court. How, in your mouth, does it become a dragon's pool and tiger's den?

Just do your own job properly. Dare to speak out of turn again, and you can roll back yourself!"

Scolded thus by the old emperor, Li Jihe felt little shame or indignation—he was merely worried for the old emperor's safety. Seeing him still hesitating, the old emperor added: "If you are worried about being punished for failing to protect the imperial carriage, I can replace you!"

With words having come to this point, Li Jihe dared not utter another word of objection and could only accept the order with resignation. Replace him? That would be no better than replacing his head.

"This display today—drawing blades and swinging clubs, shouting and fighting to drive people away—this is a first for you too, isn't it!" After pondering a little more, the old emperor smiled and asked the Liu brothers: "Quite astonishing, isn't it!"

At the question, Liu Wenji shook his head and sighed: "In your grandson's view, this place is no deep mountain or dense forest, yet the folk are so fierce and bold as this. The government will have no easy time governing them!"

"I brought you along precisely so that you might also search for the reasons behind it!" Seeing Liu Wenji's thoughtful expression, the old emperor said softly.

Looking up, the sky had grown somewhat dim. The old emperor knew that within the now-quiet village, there were likely still many eyes fixed intently on his party.

Such tight defense—the county office's warning was one thing, but being able to organize it was another matter entirely. The old emperor did not believe that local government control over the countryside could reach such a degree. What truly concerned him was the peculiar scent he detected here: clan power and local strongmen.

"Since we are not welcome here, let us leave the village first and choose a spot at the foot of the ridge to make camp. Tonight we sleep below the ridge!" the old emperor ordered. After taking only two steps, he called Li Jihe to his side, pointed at the nine villages behind him, and said: "I don't care what method you use—I want to personally understand the situation in this village!"

This instruction left Li Jihe momentarily bewildered, but the emperor's verbal order had to be carried out. After gathering his subordinates and pooling their ideas through discussion, a method emerged.

At dusk, above and below the ridge, the woods were dim and shadowy. Because of the consecutive days of rain, everything was still damp, and even lighting a fire produced billowing smoke. Smoke from cooking fires on the ridge rose continuously, intertwining with the blue mist of the mountains until the two were nearly indistinguishable. Were it not for all the troubles and wariness, it would have been a scene of considerable charm—except that the old emperor's journey was, after all, not meant to experience rustic pleasures.

Late into the night, in the small tent below the ridge, after being announced, Li Jihe and two guards walked in, dragging a bound man with a cloth stuffed in his mouth. Seeing this scene, the method Li Jihe had devised became immediately apparent.

Though it seemed somewhat surreal that the Son of Heaven should need to meet people through such means, at this moment there was no room for such concerns. The man was a simple farmer, not young in years. Once the cloth was removed, believing he had fallen into the hands of bandits, he cried out repeatedly for mercy.

"No need for alarm!" Whether it was the old emperor's imposing presence or his words' peculiar calming power, that brief sentence did indeed settle the man somewhat.

Looking at the villager before him, whose face showed fear and trepidation, the old emperor said unhurriedly: "My subordinates were tactless and startled you, good villager—I will discipline them for it. Inviting you by such means was discourteous, and I hope you will be magnanimous."

These words left the man utterly bewildered. Seeing this, the old emperor got to the point: "A few questions—I ask, you answer. Answer honestly, and you will be safely released!"

"Where things are unclear, you will explain!" The old emperor glanced at Wang Qinruo.

Wang Qinruo immediately acknowledged, then rendered the old emperor's meaning in the local dialect. Only then did the man's taut nerves relax somewhat. Ten li apart, different accents; a hundred li apart, different speech—a simple communication problem brought the old emperor no small reflection. The official language still needed vigorous promotion.

"What is your name?"

"Zhang Wulin."

"Has your family lived in this village for generations?"

"Moved here three generations ago—nearly fifty years now."

"Who was the one who gathered the crowd to drive people away in broad daylight?"

"The ward chief's son, Shi Tong."

The old emperor then asked about the Shi family's origins. He had originally assumed they were local magnates who had developed here over generations, but the villager's words dealt the old emperor a resounding slap to the face.

The Shi family had moved to the nine villages about thirty years ago—later than all the original surname households. But the old ward chief had been a junior military officer, had earned military merit, and after retirement had been assigned to this village.

Under his leadership, twenty years later, the Shi clan had become a "great clan" that completely dominated the other nine surnames of the nine villages. When the old ward chief died, his son took over as the new ward chief, and has held the position for over a decade now. It was easy to imagine that when this ward chief died in office, the next one would still bear the surname Shi—perhaps even that Shi Tong who had led the crowd earlier.

Hearing such an answer, the expression on the old emperor's face could well be imagined. Even if the Shi family had been local magnates who developed here as he had assumed, it would have been somewhat more bearable—but it was precisely not the case.

Back then, promoting the settlement of retired grassroots officers and soldiers into the countryside had been championed by the old emperor himself, with the goal of "extending imperial power to the villages." Even as early as thirty years ago, the old emperor had already realized that this policy was riddled with problems, even counterproductive, with all sorts of chaos emerging in various places.

But decades later today, hearing with his own ears the story of a rural magnate born from his "countryside settlement policy," the old emperor's heart was filled with mixed emotions. Clearly, the matter had not been resolved or settled—it was simply that those officers and soldiers, in their integration and evolution into local magnates and clans, had grown smarter and more resourceful, deeply versed in the principle of "if the people do not report it, the officials do not investigate."

"Is this how you treat guests on ordinary days—viewing all outsiders as tigers and wolves?"

"Not entirely. In normal times, receiving outsiders is still permitted. When traveling merchants come to the village, the ward chief's family will even specially invite them home to be entertained. It was only recently that the ward chief issued an order, saying bandits were causing trouble and strictly forbidding villagers from receiving outsiders."

"I hear that over the past two years, the people of Luoshan County have had a rather hard time of it. Why is that? Natural disasters and poor harvests? Or government oppression and ward chief exploitation?"

To this question, the villager Zhang Wulin dared not answer. A simple, honest farmer, he instinctively grew wary when certain topics were broached, unwilling to speak too freely for fear of courting trouble.

Seeing his hesitation, the old emperor offered more words of comfort, but to no avail—no matter how they urged him, he just kept shaking his head. In the end, it was only after Li Jihe, having sought the old emperor's permission with a glance, drew his blade and pressed it against the man's neck that he spoke, reluctantly—or perhaps half-willingly.

"In the past three years, times were originally quite good. Every household had surplus grain each year—enough to eat one's fill and still buy some new things. But starting two years ago, life suddenly turned for the worse. The county began adding taxes, saying the prefecture had ordered that a traveling palace be built for the Son of Heaven, and that all people of Luoshan must show their loyalty and filial devotion—each household had to pay one string of cash and two dan of new wheat."

The people harbored anger and resentment but dared not give vent to it. Yet once drawn out, it could not be contained. This Zhang Wulin soon recounted the tribulations of the past two years one by one, growing more animated as he spoke, with his account revolving always around the traveling palace's construction—as if all their hardships stemmed from this one matter.

The villagers of the nine villages were not wealthy, but living off the mountain, they managed to get by. Had it been only that single levy, even if it caused some difficulty, they could have squeezed by and borne it.

Two dan of wheat had not been too much even two years ago. If new wheat was insufficient, one could turn a blind eye and substitute old grain; if truly necessary, game could be offered in its place. The difficult part was the cash—the government only accepted gold, silver, and copper coins. The first two were out of the question, and for ordinary villagers, households with even one string of ready cash could be counted on one hand.

With no money, what could be done? They could only exchange grain, game, hides, medicinal herbs, and other goods—this was how many villagers paid their taxes. But with exchange, prices were driven down, and they were first skimmed by landlords and local magnates. This was the norm, the unspoken rule of the countryside.

A single such round was already enough to drain the villagers of the nine villages of both property and wealth. But in the year before last alone, from autumn to winter, the Luoshan county office issued three levy orders. Though the amounts of money and grain demanded each time were the same, the burden on the people grew heavier with each round. Many farming households had their meager savings of years squeezed dry that very year, and the nine villages experienced a winter hardship rarely seen in the past decade.

By last year—especially after summer began—a new round of "filial devotion levies" arrived, with even more variety: "mountain stone levies," "beam timber levies," "bronze and lacquer levies." Not only did they demand money and grain, they demanded people as well. It was also in late April of last year that the government ordered conscription—from the nine villages alone, over thirty men were drawn. More than thirty able-bodied laborers was no small number for a mountain village like this.

Zhang Wulin's eldest son had also been conscripted for road construction. Fortunately, he had returned alive, with all limbs intact. As for compensation in grain or money for his labor—that was not to be hoped for. According to the ward chief's explanation, providing a laborer had already exempted their household from part of the levies. To have the man return alive was already good fortune; one should not harbor excessive expectations. Best to tend the fields diligently—there was still no small amount of state taxes owed…

Listening to his account, the old Emperor's expression remained indifferent, seemingly unmoved, but in his mind he had already begun to recall how the drastic policy changes and the urgent exploitation in Luoshan had seemingly started from last year, after he had urged Liu Gui to act. What had he said back then? And this is how the people below had carried it out! At this moment, the old Emperor felt as if a fly were stuck in his throat.

He could not help but look at Wang Qincuo. These matters had been reflected in previous reports, but mostly on a macro level, described from the perspective of county administration. As for the people's sentiments, they were described as severe, but in terms of specific details, they were only touched upon lightly, brushed over in a single stroke. Many things, without coming down to see with one's own eyes and hear with one's own ears, are difficult to truly understand in their depth and horror.

Another point worth noting was that, according to Wang Qincuo, although the county government's decrees had their harsh points, they were not as excessive as this commoner described; in many places, there were discrepancies with his account.

Clearly, in the process of policy issuance and implementation, things had changed in nature. The policy itself had problems, and when those executing it added their own problems on top, with both ends working against the people, what else could it bring to the common folk at the bottom but suffering?

The old Emperor, accustomed to making associations, naturally thought of many past court policies. He had put forward various proposals and reforms, and the ministers' reports had basically all declared great success, and the secret spies and inspectors also said the results were remarkable. But the situation in Nine Villages truly made it impossible for the old Emperor to remain optimistic—it was even deeply etched into his heart. Was the Great Han court's rule truly as solid as a rock? What he had seen and heard this time could already answer part of that question.

What a tiny place like Nine Villages could reveal was merely the tip of the iceberg. To the vast Great Han Empire, compared to its immensely broad territory, it was truly insignificant—it could not even be said to be particularly representative.

Because the Shi clan of Nine Villages was still relatively principled; they had not resorted to excessive draining-the-pond-to-catch-the-fish measures, and they still maintained the decency of fellow villagers toward one another. Even when exploiting, they tried to exercise restraint.

From time to time, they would even spend money to repair bridges and pave roads, dredge ditches and canals, and relieve poor households. When disputes arose that did not involve their own interests, they would often remain impartial and render fair judgments. But there was one premise: at critical moments—like the present—the entire village had to listen to the Shi family!

In comparison, other places that were also "showing filial piety" by building the imperial traveling palace had far uglier manners. When the government demanded one string of cash, they would dare to demand two. When they said new wheat, it had to be new wheat; if old wheat was collected, it didn't count, and they still had to find a way to make up the difference.

When the government conscripted ten men, they conscripted twenty. The extra ten could be exempted—by spending money to buy their freedom. If they had no money, grain or local goods would do. If they had neither money nor goods, there was still a way: they could exchange labor. Government corvée labor lasted three months to half a year, but working for them only required one month. Calculated this way, it seemed one even came out ahead by a few months.

The atmosphere inside the small tent grew heavy, as if the low-pressure air was almost suffocating. Wang Qincuo was sweating like rain, his body trembling involuntarily. As for this farmer Zhang Wulin, he probably felt he had said too much—the more he spoke, the more afraid he became, his voice growing lower and lower, until he once again kowtowed and begged for mercy.

"You are not guilty. Well said. Your words are like a thunderbolt, striking people deaf and awakening the dull!" After a long moment, the old Emperor sighed softly and instructed Liu Wenji: "Go help this old man up!"

"Yes!"

Even as Liu Wenji's strong hands lifted him up, Zhang Wulin still hadn't reacted. Looking at the old Emperor again, he felt that this imposing old man before him seemed to have aged a few more years.

The old Emperor sat on a folding chair. Because of the rainy weather, this summer night was also somewhat cold, and he wore a purple outer robe over his shoulders.

"Sit!"

"Serve tea!"

A series of commands left the old man Zhang Wulin both bewildered and overwhelmed by the unexpected favor. Holding the fine porcelain bowl in both hands, watching the swirling tea leaves, feeling the warmth transmitted through the bowl, he finally came back to his senses.

The old Emperor also set aside his stern expression, replacing it with what he considered a kindly face, and asked softly: "So it seems the suffering of the people of Luoshan is indeed real. But from what I understand, these are all caused by poor governance by the officials—some corrupt officials who deceive their superiors and hoodwink their subordinates, exploiting the people's blood and sweat under the pretext of building a traveling palace for the Emperor, lining their own pockets.

For this reason, after the Emperor's carriage visited Shenzhou, he immediately launched an investigation. It is said that quite a few corrupt officials have already been executed, and even the County Magistrates of both Xinyang and Yingshan counties have been beheaded.

From now on, those corrupt officials will not dare to commit further outrages. Your days should be somewhat better."

The purpose of the old Emperor's words, perhaps even he himself did not know—maybe it was just to distance himself from this matter as much as possible, wanting to gain this old man's acknowledgment that it was not the Emperor's fault, but rather treacherous villains causing trouble behind the scenes.

However, Zhang Wulin's words once again stumped the old Emperor: "The officials of Xinyang and Yingshan cannot govern us. May I ask what became of the County Magistrate of Luoshan County?"

(Ma Qing, the former County Magistrate who had been sent to southern Zhejiang, felt his neck grow cold again)

While the old Emperor was still stunned, he heard Zhang Wulin continue: "I heard that the Son of Heaven's traveling palace has already been completed—built very large and very beautiful, up on the mountain. The mountain is much taller than our earthen mound here, and the road is hard to travel. My eldest son was one of those who built the mountain road."

The old man's words seemed somewhat rambling, appearing merely to be earnestly stating a fact, but to those with discerning ears, there was no doubt it was innuendo and veiled accusation. Wang Qincuo could not hold back and shouted at him: "How dare you!"

The moment the words fell, the old Emperor shouted at him with an even louder voice: "How dare you!"

Upon hearing the rebuke, Wang Qincuo's legs went weak and he knelt to the ground: "Your servant would not dare!"

Zhang Wulin was confused by the exchange between ruler and minister, staring blankly. Ignoring Wang Qincuo, the old Emperor thought for a moment and asked again: "How many people are in your household?"

Having already said what he dared not say, the old man was now quite forthright and answered directly: "Counting my two daughters-in-law and my unmarried younger daughter, eleven people in all!"

An ordinary household, the old Emperor thought to himself, and asked again: "How many mu of land does your family have?"

"Ten mu of dry farmland, five mu of fruit orchard."

"With such meager fields, the yield must not be much. How do you support eleven people?"

"Relying on this land alone naturally wouldn't be enough. We also help cultivate the clan fields, and each season we can receive a three-tenths share of the harvest. We also hunt some local game from the mountains—barely scraping by."

"What are clan fields? Do you have communal land property?"

After his explanation, the old Emperor quickly understood. The so-called "clan fields" were merely the lands of the Zhang clan's leading family in Nine Villages. Translating the situation, it was simply the relationship between landlord and tenant. The only difference was that this tenant still retained a certain degree of freedom and still had land of his own. But judging by the situation in this village, who could say when that might disappear? This state of affairs was far too fragile—listening to it, one could not help but feel worried.

"How many people in your family are registered on the household rolls?" the old Emperor asked again.

At this, Zhang Wulin's eyes immediately showed vigilance. When it concerned vital interests, reactions were always the most genuine. And for the first time, he asked a question in return: What does that mean?

Seeing this, the old Emperor sighed: "It seems that among your eleven family members, quite a few are not registered!"

"Why should we register? What benefit is there in registering?"

"What benefit is there in registering? That's a good question!" the old Emperor murmured, then pointed at Zhang Wulin and said to the brothers Liu Wenhuan and Liu Wenji: "You two explain it to him!"

"Yes!"

With the old Emperor's command, how could they dare to be negligent? Liu Wenhuan stepped forward half a pace and spoke first: "Being registered on the household rolls makes one a citizen of the Great Han, entitled to all the rights that citizens of the Great Han enjoy—attending school, taking the examinations, entering officialdom, serving in the military, traveling for business or labor. Your land, property, and even your safety would then be protected by the laws of the Great Han. Even your inheritance after death—if your descendants are not on the household rolls, they cannot inherit it either."

Liu Wenhuan's words were quite insightful, and everyone in the tent nodded slightly in approval. But it was still this Zhang Wulin who listened with a face full of confusion, and relying on instinct, answered:

"My family has been farmers for generations. Relying on this land, we can live out our lives. What you speak of has nothing to do with my family. We don't study, we don't do business. If we travel, at most we go to the nearby periodic markets and village fairs—we can't even reach the county seat.

As for government protection, we only hope that you won't add more levies and taxes, and that there will be fewer corvée labors—that would already satisfy us. Oh, and when it comes to corvée and military service, why is it that the household rolls are never consulted? There are plenty of people taking others' places under false names.

As for family property, my eldest and second sons are both registered. They can inherit, can't they?"

This explanation left Liu Wenhuan almost dumbfounded, and he immediately retorted indignantly: "That was then, this is now! Even if you are content to wallow in mediocrity and be satisfied with farming, don't you think about your descendants? What if they want to study and become officials?"

"The young lord of the village head's family studies and practices martial arts, and still not one of them has become an official. How could it ever be my family's turn?" Zhang Wulin said. "Children and grandchildren will have their own blessings!"

"Never mind descendants—let's talk about the present!" Seeing that salted-fish attitude, Liu Wenhuan was furious: "If someone bullies you, what would you do without the government? If someone forcibly seizes your land, your property, or even your daughters, what then?"

Hearing Liu Wenhuan say this, Zhang Wulin also grew somewhat agitated and said: "Besides the government, who would dare bully us people of Nine Villages? Even if there were, we have the whole village, old and young, and the village head to seek justice for us! Even if bandits and outlaws came, we'd fight them back!"

"What if the village head wants to seize your family's land and take your wife and daughters?" Liu Wenhuan was thoroughly angered and said directly.

This question managed to briefly silence the farmer, but after a moment, he spoke stubbornly: "If that were the case, the government is dozens of li away—on what basis would it protect us common folk? The government relies on the village head to collect taxes and conscript labor. Wouldn't they stand on the village head's side?"

"You! You're simply unreasonable!" Hearing this, Liu Wenhuan was somewhat broken.

"Enough!" At this moment, the old Emperor suddenly spoke, interrupting the argument between the august imperial grandson and a mud-legged peasant. He looked at Liu Wenji, who had been in a contemplative state, and asked: "Wenji, you've remained silent all this while—what are you thinking about?"

Upon being asked, Liu Wenji raised his head, his eyes giving one a feeling of being unfocused. He shook himself awake before speaking in a low voice: "I think this man speaks with reason!"

"Second brother, don't talk nonsense!" Before the old Emperor could speak, Liu Wenhuan could not stand it and rebuked Liu Wenji.

Seeing this, Liu Wenji hurriedly begged the old Emperor for forgiveness. The old Emperor looked at this grandson but said nothing more, merely rubbing his forehead with some distress. After a long while, he finally looked at Zhang Wulin: "Because of the government's forced apportionments these past two years, how much money and grain has your family paid out?"

"Not counting other things, seven strings of cash and over 1,500 jin of new and old wheat," Zhang Wulin answered, still unable to suppress the pained look on his face.

"Your family is quite well-off!"

Clearly, this Zhang family had indeed been fairly well-off farmers before. After all, they were still self-cultivating peasants, and the household had plenty of labor.

"Take twenty strings of cash, give it to him, and let him go!" The old Emperor gave the order, then said to Zhang Wulin: "Twenty strings of copper cash—ten strings count as compensation for your family's losses over the past two years, and ten strings as thanks for your frank words tonight.

I can understand what you're worried about. After you go home, just treat tonight as if nothing happened—you said nothing. From now on, tend your fields in peace!"

When the heavy string of twenty strings of cash was held against his chest, Zhang Wulin still couldn't quite believe it. He tried leaving cautiously, looking back at every step, and when he saw that he truly wasn't being stopped, he turned around and kowtowed several times in succession, then left with a thousand thanks and ten thousand gratitudes.

"A crafty commoner," Wang Qinruo muttered inwardly, watching the old Emperor with careful sidelong glances, extremely uneasy. What he had heard tonight—for anyone, it would be hard to swallow. If the old Emperor exploded, who could stop him? What if he decided to have him beheaded?

However, unexpectedly, the old Emperor appeared very calm—not even a trace of anger could be seen.

After a long while, the old Emperor continued asking the Liu Wenji brothers: "Regarding the situation in this village, what are your thoughts, you two?"

Liu Wenhuan answered without hesitation: "The villagers are shallow in knowledge, stubborn and unruly—pitiful yet hateful. But compared to them, those corrupt officials and wicked clerks of Luoshan County who use the pretext of building the traveling palace to cruelly exploit the people—all of them deserve death!"

Liu Wenhuan was bristling with murderous intent, and listening to him made Wang Qinruo break out in cold sweat—he himself was among those people.

This time, Liu Wenji didn't wait for the old Emperor to call on him, speaking up on his own: "Grandfather, to observe the people's condition, you had to resort to such means just to hear some truth and see some reality. The more your grandson thinks of it, the more disheartened he becomes—the difficulty of governing the realm is plain to see!"

Silently evaluating his two grandsons' answers, the old Emperor smiled faintly: "Having this realization means you haven't come for nothing!"

"Alright, that's enough for tonight!" Saying this, the old Emperor waved his hand wearily: "Go rest, all of you! Tomorrow we set out and visit the next village!"

"Yes!"

In truth, what more could he see by continuing onward? Nothing but disappointment after disappointment—indeed, what he saw and heard brought the old Emperor a feeling of despair, even numbness.

Even though the old Emperor had long prepared himself mentally, not expecting to see some age of great peace or a world of light, when he truly confronted this world that had once made him so immensely proud, hearing and seeing those situations that had long been neglected and numbed, the old Emperor's heart was thrown into chaos.

If at first, the old Emperor had undertaken this private inspection with a mentality of punishment or even atonement because of the construction of Taikang Palace,

then after truly walking this path himself, he couldn't help but discover that compared to the construction of Taikang Palace itself, the great building projects and the waste of labor and money were merely the surface—what it reflected about the operational rules and order of the Great Han's grassroots level was even more alarming.

As the supreme sovereign of the Great Han Empire, there was also a share of anger, a share of unwillingness.

Anger that at the farthest reaches of imperial authority's reach, what prevailed was another system entirely beyond control—and even more terrifying, the court's management of the common people had to rely on such a system, even having to regard it as an important supplement to national governance, even though this very system was itself eroding imperial power and undermining governing authority.

The unwillingness lay in the fact that the old Emperor had once been so spirited and arrogant, had once declared he could make the sun and moon exchange the heavens, yet after decades of imperial ambition and repeated upheavals, looking back, it seemed nothing had changed at all.

Had it been ten years earlier, with the old Emperor's pride, he might have had his Dao-heart shattered. But now, at sixty, old and declining, he merely walked through it all in silence, watched it all in silence—no one knew what he was really thinking.

Being close to the plains, transportation wasn't so difficult, and contact with the outside of the ridge was fairly frequent—the nine villages were actually not as isolated and impoverished as the old Emperor and his party had witnessed. It was only when they followed the ridge further and deeper, seeing more villages, that they realized the nine villages' situation could even be described as good.

The encounters were similar—without revealing their identities, direct contact and conversation were utterly impossible. The further they went, the more exclusive the villages became, the colder the attitudes. However, nothing like the nine villages' organized use of force to drive people away ever happened again.

The old Emperor naturally noticed these anomalies but didn't call them out, simply using the same method—grabbing people and interrogating them—to carry this special private inspection through to the end.

When they had followed the ridge eastward for over forty li, reached the fifth ridge village, and questioned the seventh farming household, the old Emperor lost all interest in continuing. The people's livelihood from there on was more miserable with each stop, and the local tyrants and evil gentry used worse methods with each household—compared to them, the Shi family of the nine villages could have had a "Worthy Gentry" memorial arch erected.

After touring the ridge region in the south, he didn't give up on the northern plains either. This time, the old Emperor no longer "disdained" them, seemingly hoping that the "good" conditions of the plains might soothe a heart that had been badly battered.

However, things went against his wishes. The overall situation in the plains was certainly somewhat better, but that was only because the basic conditions were better—because the common people had a greater tolerance for exploitation—but the depth of hardship they encountered was quite comparable.

At the same time, the northern plains with superior water and soil conditions were where the truly great landlords clustered—land annexation was more severe, self-cultivating peasants were fewer, and personal dependency was stronger.

In the past, not to mention such a situation, even the appearance of such a trend would have made the old Emperor deeply detest it and unable to restrain his fury. But this time, the old Emperor forcibly held it in.

It wasn't until May 24th that the old Emperor, in his public identity, arrived at Luoshan County town. In the county office, he gathered all the appointed officials and important clerks outside the regular system, and without giving any lecture, only had everyone do one thing—recite the "Admonition" that Meng Chang had composed in his early years.

Twenty-four phrases, ninety-six characters—for most officials and clerks, it wasn't too difficult. Soon some could recite it fluently, but it still wasn't over—the old Emperor forced them to keep chanting it, continuing thus for a full day and night. According to reports, from morning to night, and through the night until dawn, the Luoshan County office was filled with the sound of reciting the "Admonition," audible even across the alleyways.

It wasn't until everyone was starving and most had fallen into mechanical repetition that the old Emperor finally appeared. Without excessive verbosity, he simply and gravely recounted Meng Chang's story, then drew a conclusion: when Meng Chang forgot the "Admonition" he himself had composed, the decline and destruction of the Meng Shu were already sealed.

After the old Emperor left, the officials and clerks of Luoshan County present were all shaken with fear, cold sweat pouring out repeatedly.

At the northern city wall of Luoshan, standing by the earthen rampart and touching the hard crenellations, the old Emperor raised his head to look north. Beneath the night sky, behind him were the scattered lights of the small city; to the north was a stretch of ink-black wilderness, dense with forests—he could faintly sense the sound of the Huai River rushing eastward. It must have been an illusion, for the Huai River was hard to level, and the county seat's location was at some distance from the riverbank.

"Wang Qinruo!" After a moment of dazed wandering in his gaze, the old Emperor softly called to Wang Qinruo, who was attending at his side.

"Your servant is here!" Wang Qinruo responded respectfully.

Although his position was still merely a lowly ninth-rank Registrar, Wang Qinruo knew in his heart that both his life and his official career had already undergone an earth-shaking transformation.

The past period of accompanying and serving the Emperor seemed to have sublimated Wang Qinruo's entire bearing. Now, his every move was more like that of a close courtier before the throne, no longer a country bumpkin of "humble" origins. This man's adaptability in this regard was clearly very strong—as if he were born to eat this bowl of rice.

"This Luoshan County, I entrust to you! This Luoshan County Magistrate position, you shall take it!" the old Emperor said.

Upon hearing this, Wang Qinruo was briefly at a loss, ripples stirring in his heart, but on his face, he put on a troubled expression. Seeing this, the old Emperor asked: "What, you think the position is too small?"

"How would your humble servant dare?" Wang Qinruo quickly expressed: "Having been elevated by Your Majesty's selection, your servant is moved to tears of gratitude. It's just that your servant's rank is low and position humble—a sudden leap in promotion might not convince others and could invite criticism!"

Hearing his words, the old Emperor didn't even look at him, only saying in a cold tone: "Are those your words? Are you, Wang Qinruo, someone who fears criticism? Would an honest man make those little moves of yours?"

Several consecutive questions made Wang Qinruo's expression change drastically. He couldn't help but bow deeply, burying his head low, trembling as he said: "Your servant is terrified!"

The old Emperor's expression was very indifferent, his tone perfectly even: "Seeking advancement—those who strive, strive for themselves; there's nothing wrong with that. I don't care what purpose you had before; I only look to the future.

The people's livelihood in Luoshan is far from optimistic and urgently needs change. Putting you in Luoshan County is to see how you perform!

The county's problems, you've witnessed them before and after the inspection. I give you two years—within two years, if Luoshan achieves great governance, you'll be promoted to govern Shenzhou; otherwise, go home and study and farm!

Also, the great governance I want is a fundamental cure—do you understand?"

After a moment's thought, Wang Qinruo prostrated himself again and answered with utmost solemnity: "Your servant accepts the decree and will surely do his utmost, not failing Your Majesty's expectations!"

"You may withdraw!" Having finished his instructions, the old Emperor waved Wang Qinruo away and continued gazing at the summer night outside the city, where only sparse lights flickered.

Wang Qinruo, descending from the city wall, still wore an expression of being unmoved by joy or sorrow. It wasn't until he returned to his residence that he could no longer hold it in—his face unable to suppress excitement, he stuffed his sleeve into his mouth and laughed wildly, his face flushed red and he didn't care.

After a long while, he finally calmed down, and a pair of deep eyes shone even brighter.

Only at this moment did it mean that he had truly bet correctly and succeeded! A seventh-rank County Magistrate was naturally not Wang Qinruo's pursuit, but with this record, it could save him ten years of time, or even more. For a man devoted to officialdom, ten years' significance was simply too great.

If he could reach the position of a prefecture's chief official while still just past thirty, then his future could truly be described as promising. At this age, at this rank, he was in no way inferior to those powerful nobles born with golden keys in their mouths.

Therefore, regarding the old Emperor's final threat, Wang Qinruo wasn't the least bit intimidated—on the contrary, his heart was filled with resolve.

In Wang Qinruo's eyes at this moment, there was not a trace of cowardice or retreat, only the courage to press forward—whoever stood in the way of his advancement in office would be destroyed without mercy.

In this regard, Wang Qinruo had already made plans. Simply setting Luoshan County right, abolishing those oppressive taxes, and restoring peace—that wasn't real ability. What the old Emperor truly cared about, Wang Qinruo had also grasped.

In his mind, what was now actively surging forth was one method after another for dealing with the powerful families within the territory, especially those local tyrants and evil gentry.

The difficulty of governing local clan powers had to be viewed over the long term. If it were only at a single point in time, let alone some village-level petty tyrants, even true great aristocratic families, meritorious nobles, and imperial relatives couldn't withstand violent strikes from strong authority—it just depended on whether those in power were willing to take action.

At least at this moment, Wang Qinruo's will was firm and unstoppable.

I played too hard during the long holiday and wasted quite a bit of time—I overestimated myself. I'm already doing my utmost to finish this book; there's just a little bit left, just a little bit.