Chapter 2043: The Final Journey 11

The temporary imperial residence was set up in the Administration Commissioner's yamen compound. Originally, Guo Xin had planned to welcome the imperial carriage into the Lotus Garden within Changsha city—a most magnificent garden, said to have been jointly funded and built by a group of "righteous merchants," and since its completion it had been used for various official and semi-official celebrations in Changsha, the most recent being the Mid-Autumn moon-viewing.

The Lotus Garden, of course, was most famous for its lotus pond covering nearly twenty mu. Every summer, lotus leaves stretching to the sky and lotus blossoms reflecting the sun filled the pond, creating a splendid sight. Changsha's famous "Red Lotus Literary Gathering" was held each year in the waterside pavilions and literary terraces standing atop the lotus pond.

It could be said that in terms of basic conditions, no place in Changsha city was more suitable than the Lotus Garden for the Son of Heaven to take up residence. Guo Xin meant well, but the old emperor did not appreciate it, and immediately retorted: "The season is already deep autumn—flowers have withered, leaves have decayed. What is there to see? To look at all that decline and desolation?"

These words frightened Guo Xin considerably—it was practically questioning his intentions. At the same time, he felt wronged; even without lotus flowers, there were chrysanthemums, and there were dancing pavilions, singing terraces, and ornate towers.

Of course, the grievance could only be buried in his heart. In the end, following the old emperor's wishes, a courtyard was vacated within the Administration Commissioner's yamen for the old emperor to stay in, and to personally supervise the political work of the Jinghu Southern Circuit from close by.

An old man walked out of the temporary residence with his head held high—graying beard, short stature, yet carrying a natural air of refined elegance, every move imbued with what might be called a spirit of righteousness.

This old man was Liao Mingyong, the current head of the Yuelu Academy. After several overcast days, this rare fine day had come, and walking out of the heavily guarded temporary residence, gradually distancing himself from the cold gazes of the forbidden guards and soldiers, Liao Mingyong finally let out a sigh of relief.

The warm, even blazing autumn sun shone directly on his face. Far from shrinking from it, Liao Mingyong tilted his head up to meet it. Recalling the audience with His Majesty inside the temporary residence just now, a smile gradually spread across his lips, more radiant than the sunlight itself.

The Administration Commissioner's yamen was not unfamiliar territory to Liao Mingyong, but this visit was especially significant. After the emperor had graced the Yuelu Academy with his presence, he summoned Academy Head Liao Mingyong again just one day later—an attitude that could only be called exceptional.

For Liao Mingyong, this was also a matter deserving special attention. Leaving everything else aside, as a leader of the southern literary world and the head of a scholarly institution, this was the first time he had been received by the Son of Heaven of the Great Han.

For Liao Mingyong personally, this was already an immense honor. What was even more important was that he was representing the entire southern literati in a private audience with the emperor. If all of the south was too broad a scope, then at the very least he represented the entire Huguang literati.

In Liao Mingyong's view, this could even be called a "historic breakthrough"! Literati—or more precisely, traditional literati—were not exactly favored in the current Great Han. Though scholars were respected, their political status was essentially relegated to the fourth or fifth tier; the sovereign and kin, meritorious nobles, and bureaucrats had always occupied the commanding heights of the Great Han's core ruling class.

This situation arose mainly from three factors. The first was the long historical background of warlord dominance since the late Tang. Although the old emperor had sorted out and reshaped things during the process of unification, the result was merely a restoration of order rather than an overcorrection. The "residual poison" of martial thinking could hardly be said to have been thoroughly cleansed even to this day.

Moreover, the Great Han's continuous expansion over the past several decades had in fact boosted the prestige of the military and consolidated the position of martial men. Balancing civil and military, checking one against the other, was the court's method of governance, but in reality, without the help of upper-class nobles, those who wielded the writing brush truly found it no easy task to overpower those who wielded the blade.

The second factor was the revival of the aristocratic class and the aristocratic bureaucratic bloc—something the old emperor himself had fostered and even indulged. Now it had reached the point where it played a key role in the Great Han's upper and middle echelons, deeply entangled with the court's governance, to the extent that even the old emperor found it difficult to fully suppress. The powerful occupied vast and primary resources, leaving even less for the literati.

The third was the reform of the imperial examination and educational systems initiated by the old emperor. This had a tremendous impact on traditional Confucian teachings. If one did not seek change and merely upheld the words of the sages, there might still be a future, but it would inevitably be limited. Though "practicality" was but two words, its influence in the realms of thought and institutions was limitless.

Take the Hunan Circuit for example: scholars enjoyed a very high status there, and the Xiang School system and the Xiang Scholars faction had emerged. But this was still merely a local phenomenon, a state of affairs that existed under the protection of local policies. Placed in the national context, the situation in the Hunan Circuit, while not unique, was certainly rare.

The so-called Xiang School and Xiang Scholars had their roots in the Hunan Circuit, and their most practical influence was likewise confined to the circuit. Once outside the Jinghu Southern Circuit, not many people were willing to acknowledge them.

For a great scholar like Liao Mingyong, who had made enormous contributions to the development of the "Xiang School," carrying its banner forward and breaking through the limitations of the Hunan Circuit was, one might say, his lifelong pursuit.

Yet how difficult it was! Compared to the Central Plains and Hebei, compared to Guanxi and Chuanshu, compared to Hubei and Jiangnan, Hunan's cultural foundation was simply too weak—it hardly had much tradition to speak of. The resistance one could imagine to expanding outward and exporting scholarly ideas was considerable; being looked down upon was the norm.

However, perhaps precisely because of this lack of tradition, the people of Hunan were more flexible in their scholarship and more receptive to new ideas. This was also the fundamental reason for the rapid development of the Xiang School over the past several decades.

Of course, the so-called Xiang School did not abandon tradition or seek to be unconventional. On the contrary, it still upheld the great principles of loyalty and forbearance, benevolence and filial piety, and fraternal love as its guiding maxims. It was merely that on this basis, some great scholars in Changsha attempted to combine the current political landscape with the court's preferences in employing people, and proposed some new things.

These new things, through decades of development, collision, and fusion, had gradually formed a new method of scholarship, a new ideology. Its core lay in the four characters the old emperor had proposed back then: jingshi zhiyong—statecraft for practical application.

The old emperor had originally only put forward a concept, merely expressing his preference in employing people and selecting the worthy. But the later development of the Xiang School profoundly illustrated a principle: when those above have a preference, those below will carry it to excess.

Through the efforts of a group of Hunan Circuit luminaries led by Liao Mingyong, the old emperor's concept was refined and elevated to the level of theory, and scholarship was conducted accordingly, spreading and glorifying it.

Clearly, the so-called Xiang School was, in essence, a doctrine serving the ruling class. While its political philosophy and propositions retained a great deal of traditional morality, in terms of ideology it continuously drew closer to the rulers, benefiting their governance. Those who studied the Xiang School did so essentially to more conveniently enter officialdom, take up government posts, and complete the consolidation or transformation of their class status.

And who was the greatest ruler of the Great Han? The Kaibao Emperor! For a school of thought, several decades of development was not a long time; achieving a breakthrough might require even longer.

As for why the Xiang School's spread was slow, besides the obstruction of traditional thought and other schools, it was also because it primarily served the supreme ruler. And the old emperor's advocacies were hardly in line with everyone's ideas and interests.

From this, one could see why the Xiang School had been able to develop rapidly over the past thirty-odd years, with the authorities offering no obstruction whatsoever and even vigorously supporting it. The explanation was simple: its foundational stance was too "red" and too "orthodox." Such a doctrine did not fear political risk—at least not while the old emperor was on the throne.

Without these foundations, relying solely on local talents like Liao Mingyong, or even the leftover adherents of the Ma Chu, it would have been impossible to stir up such a commotion and establish the Xiang School as a full-fledged sect and faction.

This time, the old emperor had managed to restrain his swollen suspicions, but it was also only after understanding the core concepts of the Xiang River School that he had become interested.

Unlike the cursory visit to the Yuelu Academy, today the old emperor had specifically set aside half a day for Liao Mingyong, solely to hear the Xiang School's theories.

Of course, a complete ideological system refined and matured over decades could not be fully explained in a mere half day. Liao Mingyong was clever enough to focus on the key points, centering his exposition on the core concept of "statecraft for practical application."

It had to be said that for a long time past, the old emperor had held a contemptuous attitude toward those literati, especially the so-called talented scholars and great masters among the common folk. He trusted more in the power he held in his own hands and his own foresight.

But today, remarkably, he restrained his impatience and seriously listened to the leader of a "backwater place" and a "third-rate school" expound his scholarly philosophy and even political propositions.

In the end, Liao Mingyong actually moved the old emperor to deep sighs of emotion. The old emperor even felt a slight daze—he truly had not expected that in this remote Hunan Circuit, a school so closely aligned with his own philosophy of governance could have emerged. It was truly novel, and truly admirable.

Even if the Xiang School had a suspicion of sycophancy, for a supreme emperor, were not exactly such ministers what he needed? The older he grew, the more he recognized the importance of ideology. Thought and propositions that could not serve the ruler or benefit the stability of the state and society—no matter how progressive or how many followers they had—could only be shelved away.

For a moment, the old emperor even wondered whether the Xiang School had been deliberately suppressed by certain people or certain schools—why had no one recommended it to him? In the end, he discovered it was still his own fault; in certain respects, he had indeed been blind and deaf.

As for the outcome of the audience, Liao Mingyong was extremely excited. The old emperor had promised on the spot that he could select several core members of the Xiang School from Changsha to take up posts in the Three Institutes, the Hanlin Academy, and the Eastern Palace. At the same time, he was to establish academies in the two capitals to teach the Xiang School.

The implications behind all this stirred waves even in Liao Mingyong's heart, long trained to be as calm as still water. Clearly, His Majesty the Emperor had recognized the Xiang School, even supporting and promoting its dissemination. This meant that from now on, the Xiang School, a local school of thought, would formally march across the entire Great Han, and the door to the highest ruling stratum had opened to them. The elevation of the Xiang Scholars faction's status might well begin from this point.

From this, one could see how surging Liao Mingyong's emotions were at this moment—hard to contain.

What Liao Mingyong did not know, however, was that had he spoken poorly before the throne, his head and perhaps even the entire Xiang River School might have been in jeopardy. Earlier, the old emperor had already had the Imperial City and Wude offices fabricate charges for dealing with these scholarly magnates of Changsha.