Chapter 2042: The Final Journey 10

Approaching Changsha, he leaned on the railing and gazed into the distance. Outside the city walls, autumn winds stirred yellow leaves; masts crowded the docks, warehouses and dwellings lined the shore—a scene of thriving prosperity.

However, having seen similar sights along these riverbanks and lake shores so often since coming south, the old Emperor found nothing novel in it anymore. So even as Changsha came clearly into view, he showed no hurry to enter the city.

"Changsha has an Orange Isle, doesn't it?" the old Emperor asked Guo Xin, who attended him, in a tone of certainty.

After several days of travel, Guo Xin was nearly driven to a nervous breakdown by the old Emperor. Hearing the question now, he answered somewhat mechanically: "To answer Your Majesty, there are four sandbars in the middle of the river, formed by silt deposits. They are not large, appearing like ribbons from afar. Because they abound in tangerine and pomelo trees, the locals call them Orange Isle—perhaps that is the Orange Isle Your Majesty speaks of."

"That must be it!" Hearing this, the old Emperor immediately gave orders, a hint of excitement even in his voice: "Let us go to Orange Isle first. In the ninth month, with autumn skies high, this is precisely the time to enjoy the scenery of the Xiao and Xiang rivers!"

It was rare to see the old Emperor so openly emotional; the enthusiasm he displayed seemed almost abnormal to Guo Xin. Of course, at this moment, he could not spare thought for such inexplicable matters—he only wanted to satisfy the old Emperor's request properly and swiftly. Perhaps if His Majesty were pleased, he would stop keeping such a tight watch on him. One must always hold onto hope...

"Your servant will make arrangements at once!"

Even in the late tenth century, Orange Isle was an excellent place to enjoy the scenery, especially in autumn and winter. With tangerines red and pomelos golden, maple groves dyed in full color, and river and sky under evening snow, it was a splendid sight—a treasured spot for literati and Changsha's elite alike to wander and admire. For this reason, observation pavilions had been built on several of the sandbars.

Amid the waiting of several thousand people, the old Emperor ascended the observation pavilion at the northern end of the isle. Above his head stretched the vast Chu sky; beneath his feet surged the torrents of the Xiang River. Nearby, boats and oars churned the water; in the distance, ten thousand mountains blazed red...

Standing alone in the autumn chill, facing this scene, the old Emperor could not help himself—that lyric to the tune of Qinyuanchun, those two mighty stanzas, kept leaping through his mind. The old Emperor felt himself qualified to recite them, yet on reflection, with his present twilight mentality, it seemed somewhat inappropriate. And most crucially, the memories spanning time and space were too distant, too blurred—he could not recall them fully, and reciting them incompletely would only invite ridicule...

Immersed in his own emotions, standing against the wind, he sighed in melancholy. After about a quarter of an hour, the old Emperor pointed at a grove of tangerine trees heavy with fruit and ordered: "Go pick some tangerines—I wish to taste them!"

"Yes!"

Hu De wanted to lead men there, but Guo Xin stopped him. With a humble smile on his lips and an obsequious air, he summoned two senior officials of the Provincial Administration Commission and dashed off into the distant tangerine grove, his legs so nimble that one would never take him for a man nearing sixty.

When he reappeared, his splendid robes were already torn, but his spirits were high. A whole basket of tangerines was set before the old Emperor. Guo Xin stood by the bamboo basket, gazing at the old Emperor with eager eyes, wearing the look of one begging for reward—so much so that the old Emperor could only feel helpless.

Bending down, he picked up a tangerine from the top. The fruit was not large, but round in shape and bright in color. He examined it for a while, then peeled it himself. Soon a rich fragrance of tangerine filled the air around the sovereign and his minister.

He separated off two or three segments and handed them to Guo Xin. Guo Xin received them with both hands, put them into his mouth without hesitation, chewed, and beamed with delight, praising the sweetness profusely.

The old Emperor watched his expression, waited a moment, and seeing that Guo Xin's smile remained, finally sent a few segments into his own mouth. Slightly tart, sweet, the texture was indeed not bad—but compared to the tangerines he had eaten in the palace in years past, they fell far short.

Having enjoyed the scenery and tasted the tangerines, the old Emperor's interest was satisfied. Only then did he wave an aged hand and order: "Move out—enter the city!"

Changsha Prefecture was, after all, the seat of a circuit's governance, and the Emperor had to show it some face. Therefore, that night, at the welcome banquet organized by the Hunan Circuit Administration, the old Emperor attended with a genial smile.

It must be said that this was the most lavish feast the old Emperor had enjoyed since his southern tour from Taikang Palace—fine delicacies, song and dance in abundance. Clearly, the elite of Changsha knew how to enjoy themselves.

Consequently, the old Emperor stayed less than half an hour before rising to leave. And before departing, he delivered a few remarks in a deliberately ambiguous tone, to the general effect that forty years ago Hunan had been a scene of desolation, with Changsha so withered that only a few thousand people remained, whereas now it was a place of bells and cauldrons, of fine food and delicacies—all the achievement of the assembled lords' diligent governance.

Such words, combined with the old Emperor's tone and expression, would not be taken as praise by even the most foolish person. Thus, the night banquet inevitably ended in an awkward atmosphere. Many eyes turned to Guo Xin; as for Guo Xin, a smile still lingered on his face, but those who knew him could sense the anxiety and tension of Imperial Uncle Guo.

Perhaps believing he already understood the situation of the Jinghu Southern Circuit thoroughly and deeply enough, the old Emperor did not set aside special time during his days in Changsha to receive the Administration Commission's governance reports, nor did he carefully examine the local people's livelihood, sentiments, or morale.

Instead, the old Emperor devoted his limited energy to "investigating" Changsha's educational administration. "Revitalizing the nation through education" had perhaps been the policy Changsha had most steadfastly upheld over the past few decades, and the atmosphere of learning centered on Changsha was very strong. It seemed that since the Ma Chu period, cultural genes had been deeply branded into the very bones of Changsha's scholars and commoners.

Under such a social environment, over the past few decades Changsha had developed rapidly not only in material and economic terms but in education as well. The government vigorously established official schools and also encouraged and promoted privately run academies, schools, and village tutoring halls. After decades of this, Changsha had become a renowned land of culture and learning in the south.

The fruits of development were abundant. By the twenty-ninth year of Kaibao, in Changsha alone, there were more than three hundred official schools, private schools of all kinds, academies, and tutoring halls—a scale unprecedented in history.

This also nurtured countless talents. At every imperial examination, Hunan scholars made their names in the capital, and "Xiang Learning" gradually flourished and gained renown through the dissemination of those Hunan scholars and officials.

Setting aside the imperial examinations as too high and distant, even within the Jinghu Southern Circuit alone, the rise of education had brought forth countless talents. After completing their studies, most of these students filled the ranks of Hunan's officialdom from top to bottom—the excellent becoming officials, the lesser becoming clerks.

With Xiang Learning as their foundation, a faction of Xiang scholars had also formed. In terms of bureaucratic cohesion and governmental control, no circuit or prefecture in the realm could compare with the Jinghu Southern Circuit. Of course, in the old Emperor's eyes, this was simply a manifestation of localism.

Scholars held a very high status in Hunan, perfectly embodying the hierarchy of "scholar, farmer, artisan, merchant." In Hunan's rivers and lakes, mountains and villages, bandits inevitably lurked, but no matter how vicious, cruel, or audacious, none dared to harass the academies and schools. Someone had once tried, and then enjoyed a collective campaign against him from officials and commoners across the entire circuit's prefectures and counties—dying without even a place to be buried.

In Hunan, one might still survive robbery and murder, but to dare offend a school or kill a student—once the truth was uncovered, even if one ultimately escaped, there would be no place left in Hunan to shelter. Learning above all—this was perhaps one of the highest-priority social norms of the current Jinghu Southern Circuit.

Therefore, the old Emperor had little interest in the other common ailments of Hunan, but he paid particular attention to this "cultural atmosphere"—one might even say he regarded it with apprehension.

He vaguely sensed that a force called the "academic oligarchy" was forming in Hunan. The process of its formation was obscure, but through gradual, imperceptible influence, its reach had already spread to every aspect of Hunan—from the ruling elite to the common masses, even to the bandits and outlaws it could tame. This was truly terrifying.

Take the Yuelu Academy, which the old Emperor personally inspected—an official academy established barely thirty years ago, yet now the leading institution in Hunan's educational system.

It housed more than three thousand students, gathering not only Hunan's finest scholars but also many from the Two Guangs, Jiangxi, Huaixi, Hubei, and eastern Sichuan who came to study. Its reach was wide, and its influence continually expanded outward.

The current head of Yuelu Academy was a man named Liao Mingyong, a local scholar of native origin. Of course, to serve as head of Yuelu Academy, his learning and ability were beyond question.

What truly drew the old Emperor's attention to this Liao Mingyong, however, was his family background. His grandfather, Liao Kuangtu, had been one of the "Eighteen Academicians of the Heavenly Policy" during the reign of Ma Xifan, King Wenzhao of the Ma Chu—among the foremost of them.

The entire Liao family was renowned throughout Hunan and even the whole south. Over the past century, they had produced a great number of learned talents. By Liao Mingyong's generation, this academic oligarch clan had fully consolidated its power. Though few of its members held office, and fewer still held high office, few in Hunan's officialdom could afford to ignore this force.

The deeper the old Emperor's understanding of these academic oligarch clans like the Liao, the more his murderous intent surged!