Chapter 2088: Taizong Arc 30: The Second Year of Yongxi

The Guangyang Earl Manor was simple yet dignified—though it had not been so a year ago. Only after the Emperor vigorously advocated frugality, repeatedly emphasized it, and time and again criticized and admonished those households of extravagant spending and wasteful display, did Zhao Kuangyi, as one of the Great Han's few powerful ministers, naturally heed the Emperor's teachings and grasp the Emperor's intent.

Thus, the daily expenditures of the Guangyang Earl Manor were immediately halved, and the gold, jade, silk, and ornaments that once hung everywhere, displaying power, status, and wealth, vanished without a trace.

Apart from power and rank, Zhao Kuangyi was also a man of great rigor and restraint—one could even say a decent man. On such minor matters as lifestyle, he would never defy the Emperor's will as some others might.

As for the Emperor's measures to enforce frugality, the court and the public naturally sang their praises—after all, it was politically correct. But what they truly thought behind closed doors was hard to share with outsiders.

At the same time, the servants and retainers attached to the powerful and noble families were instead full of complaints, for their treatment had visibly declined. A large portion of the nourishment for the extravagance of the powerful was in fact siphoned off by the parasites who lived off them within their households.

Of course, Liu Yang's advocacy and restraint regarding lifestyle was not merely lip service. After all, even imperial edicts and decrees had those who dared to comply outwardly while defying inwardly—let alone such non-lethal matters. Liu Yang had exhausted every means available.

Beginning in the autumn of the first year of Yongxi, aside from openly criticizing certain powerful figures, Liu Yang also began to place obstacles for these people in personnel matters. With the assistance of the Palace City Office and the Wude Office, the tangled web of relationships among nobles and bureaucrats—if not fully mapped out—could at least be traced along its threads.

For those who disobeyed the imperial will, His Majesty would strike where they cared most, hitting the core of their interests. And conveniently, since the outbreak of the Shu rebellion, the court had taken the opportunity to put forward a series of demands for bureaucratic governance and educational reform.

In this process, some incorruptible and capable officials were promoted. Conversely, those who had been dismissive or even reckless were "taken care of" with demotions, dismissals, and exiles. Among them, quite a few who had stirred up trouble, neglected their duties, or paid lip service to the tax reform were punished.

In less than four months in the latter half of the first year of Yongxi, from the central government to the localities, from administrative officials, judicial officials, public security officials, to supervisory officials, under the direction of Minister of Personnel Murong Defeng, more than five hundred officials were dismissed, replaced, or impeached—nearly half of them being the leading figures of various regions and offices.

Such a forceful rectification of officialdom was an unprecedented major move since Liu Yang ascended the throne, causing great discomfort throughout the hierarchy and even considerable administrative chaos. Many expressed dissatisfaction.

Especially with the great rebellion erupting in Chuanshu, many used this to remonstrate and warn Liu Yang. But Liu Yang rebutted with the same reasoning: the rebellion in Chuanshu was precisely a wake-up call for everyone, high and low—its root cause was the corruption of officialdom.

If the court did not take warning and rectify immediately, were they to wait until the whole country, the border regions, were aflame with rebellion everywhere before attempting rescue?

At the same time, Liu Yang could produce a large pile of cases and evidence of official dereliction, noble crimes, and the arrogance of local strongmen. That he only carried out political rectification was already the result of the Emperor's restraint and forbearance.

From the Heqing journey to the Chuanshu rebellion, though the sample size was not large, Emperor Liu Yang had barely touched upon the root of the problem—though of course not the fundamental issues of land contradictions or the system of production ownership.

Rather, Liu Yang had come to a profound realization: if officialdom was not cleansed and the Emperor's authority was not secure, then forget about reforms and changes—no matter how practical or well-considered the policy, it could not be implemented. The medicine you thought would cure the illness might, when it reached the common people, become deadly poison.

It was also based on this understanding that Liu Yang began to break free from the rut of "tax reform," stepping forward boldly, striking with force, truly starting from bureaucratic governance to gather power and establish authority. And the power over personnel—in any country, under any system—is the most core power of all. Liu Yang naturally wanted it in his own hands.

Of course, achieving this goal could not be done simply by crudely dismissing some officials and replacing others. If the newly appointed officials were just like their predecessors, it would be wasted effort and instead cause political turmoil.

Therefore, in response to the "evils of tax reform" repeatedly memorialized by internal and external officials, Liu Yang put forward a series of corrective opinions. These policy proposals, based on actual problems and defects, gradually took shape into Liu Yang's governing platform through continuous refinement.

In summary: "Purify officialdom, strengthen supervision, benefit the people, ensure fairness." To govern the state, first govern the officials; to pacify the nation, first pacify the people. In a society ruled by men, the problems caused by governing the country and pacifying the people with the ideology and policies of rule-by-men must ultimately be solved through the methods of rule-by-men.

Where this road ends is hard to say, and it may not ultimately lead anywhere. But as Liu Yang grasped the "key points," at least for now, he was advancing with steady, powerful steps toward a clear direction.

Emperor Liu Yang of the first year of Yongxi worked very hard. Aside from handling matters of state and military affairs, he spent much of his time on the examination and education of officials.

For officials sent out from the capital and local officials coming to the capital for duty—from county magistrates on up—he personally received each one, examining their understanding of local governance and popular sentiment, listening to their governing ideas, and at the same time conveying his own governing philosophy.

With the Emperor personally going to such lengths, results naturally followed. It was precisely under such painstaking effort and exhausting dedication that the unique authority belonging to the Yongxi Emperor began to be established from within outward, and imperial power began its counterattack.

As for the local bureaucrats—they might not care about the suffering of the people, but they certainly cared about their own power and official caps. Through this political rectification, the Emperor made them clearly realize that even if the sky was high and the Emperor far away, the Yongxi Emperor in the Purple Micro City was still the one who controlled their prospects and their very lives. They must not lose their sense of awe.

Liu Yang also conveyed an attitude to his ministers: remain incorruptible and self-disciplined, do your duty diligently, and all will be well. If you wish to advance, then do what matters most at present—dispel the people's grievances, reassure the people's hearts, and uphold fairness.

Of course, Liu Yang's ability to do this—to launch such a political reform—was built on a solid foundation. First, similar "rectification campaigns" were not uncommon in the era of Emperor Shizu; the subjects of the Great Han were already "knowledgeable" about them.

Second, Liu Yang had evolved from a powerful Crown Prince into Emperor. Besides the support of his maternal clan and other consort kin, over thirty years he had cultivated a large number of talents with the Eastern Palace staff as the core—and these were unquestionably Liu Yang's core strength, supporting his governance from all aspects.

Third, and most importantly, in the late reign of Emperor Shizu, various ills had appeared in the Great Han Empire and national strength had somewhat declined. But the overall strength and control of the ruling class remained very strong, the court's authority was sufficient, and from officialdom to the common people, the general atmosphere was still upward.

Without these, someone like Liu Yang doing what he did would have long since caused an uproar. To be sure, all the circuits and prefectures of the Great Han had exploitative behaviors that sank below all bottom lines, utterly shameless, greedy to the point of stupidity—but not every place was like Chuanshu, which wouldn't even leave the last grain of rice or the last copper coin for the lowly commoners and small farmers.

And through this "political offensive," Liu Yang truly came to realize what kind of wealth Emperor Shizu had left him. The core of this wealth was not the throne, not the eyes and ears, not the riches—but that system of national and social governance that had operated stably for decades with imperial power at its center.

Within this system, as long as one could grasp the core power, imperial authority was almost limitless. Of course, only Emperor Shizu had been able to touch that highest ceiling.

For this reason, Liu Yang could not help but reflect on the various situations that had arisen since his ascension—some things had completely exceeded his expectations. After all, by his estimation, the situation after his enthronement should have been: worthy men filling the court, ruler and ministers of one mind, jointly correcting the accumulated ills of the Great Han, putting the nation back on the right track, and creating a more rational, harmonious, prosperous, and flourishing peaceful world.

But clearly, Liu Yang had been too "naive" before. After reflecting deeply on his pain, Liu Yang reached a conclusion: the most fundamental reason might be that he had retained too much of his Eastern Palace mentality and style. His title and position had arrived, but his thinking had far from caught up.

One must understand—why did Emperor Shizu possess such supreme authority? It was not given freely, nor was it from living long. It was snatched with bared fangs and claws, built upon mountains of bones.

Perhaps not entirely sufficient, but when Liu Yang truly recognized the power in his hands and used it to govern the state, the Great Han Empire also began to restore itself from top to bottom toward its former order.

To be fair, if all the storms and chaos that had arisen since Liu Yang ascended the throne were entirely blamed on him as the Yongxi Emperor being incompetent—criticized for weakness, hesitation, and lack of control—that would be unjust.

From an objective perspective, Emperor Shizu's problems were significant. He had both created a peak feudal empire and brought endless pressure and trouble to his subjects.

And compared to inheriting Emperor Shizu's greatness, Liu Yang's greater challenge was how to endure the backlash of that halo while cleaning up the mess the late emperor left behind. Tax reform was one aspect, the Shu rebellion another—and beyond these two, there was much more.

The uprising in Shu was no small challenge for the Yongxi regime that had not yet fully found its footing. But for Emperor Liu Yang, within the danger also lay opportunity.

The various struggles and hesitations of the early days of his reign, the inability to find a starting point—these were resolved with the outbreak of the Shu rebellion, giving Liu Yang a point of entry, an opportunity to coordinate internal and external affairs and wield the reins of power.

Of course, the prerequisite was victory—the rebels of Chuanshu had to be pacified. However, more than half a year had passed, and progress was not going smoothly.

It was now mid-spring of the second year of Yongxi. Returning our view to the Guangyang Earl Manor: dusk was approaching but not yet arrived, and the sky was already filled with brilliant colors. Compared to usual, Zhao Kuangyi had returned home much earlier, and he was in an excellent mood—the smile at the corners of his mouth simply could not be restrained.

Even the manor's eldest son, Zhao Dechong, who had come to greet him, could not help but ask: "What happy event today has made Father so delighted? Could it be that the Shu rebellion has been pacified?"

Upon hearing this, Zhao Kuangyi immediately composed himself. The joy on his face vanished, and he resumed the dignity of the number-two figure of the Hall of State Affairs.

Gesturing inward, accompanied by Zhao Dechong, he passed through the central courtyard and went straight into the main hall before speaking: "The Shu rebellion is not yet over, but your father's power has grown even greater!"

Meeting Zhao Dechong's astonished gaze, Zhao Kuangyi's lips curled into a smile again as he explained: "His Majesty has asked your father to co-manage the Censorate. From now on, the court's supervisory affairs will also be under this old man's purview!"

Over the past year—more precisely, the past half year—the authority of the Censorate had been a process of gradual strengthening, driven entirely by Emperor Liu Yang.

Liu Yang wanted to rectify officialdom. Besides the education and training of officials and personnel reshuffles, supervisory work was very important—one could even say decisive. During the Shizu era, the court's supervisory system had been adjusted several times; it wasn't that it had no power, but it was always somewhat weaker in that regard.

Supervisory work was not easy. One had to gnaw on hard bones and offend people, while also maintaining personal integrity and resisting all manner of external temptations and threats. And Emperor Shizu had been one who preferred unorthodox methods and secret-police style surveillance, which naturally caused the Censorate's authority to be invisibly weakened.

But Liu Yang's approach since ascending the throne had been to reshape the Censorate's authority, even at the cost of restricting the Palace City Office and the Wude Office. Since this spring, he had again issued clear edicts, clarifying the powers and responsibilities of censors at all levels within and outside the Censorate, while increasing administrative funding. He had also let it be known that at the next imperial examination, the quota and pass rate for the law examination would be appropriately increased.

All at once, the officials of the Censorate found their spines stiffening and their heads able to be held high. Yang Ye, whom Liu Yang had appointed as "Censorate Chief," was now in blazing demand. The supervisory system's appeal to the officials of the Great Han had visibly increased.

In this situation, the Emperor having Zhao Kuangyi—effectively the deputy chancellor of the Hall of State Affairs—co-manage the Censorate was, on one hand, a further enhancement of the supervisory system's strength, and on the other hand, an expansion of Zhao Kuangyi's own power—mutually reinforcing matters.

Zhao Kuangyi saw clearly the implications of this matter. It was greatly beneficial to himself, so naturally he was delighted.

In contrast, Zhao Dechong appeared more cautious. After thinking it over, he said: "This is a task that offends people!"

Hearing this, Zhao Kuangyi waved his hand and laughed: "If you want to do things, accomplish things, how can you avoid offending people? Besides, at your father's position, the people and matters worth my offending are few indeed! Your concerns are not worth worrying about!"

As he spoke, Zhao Kuangyi could not help but sigh with admiration: "His Majesty's move in this game of chess is truly exquisite—letting Murong Defeng use people, letting your father scrutinize people, thereby achieving mutual checks and balances, and your father must willingly walk into the trap."

Hearing Zhao Kuangyi say this, Zhao Dechong nodded thoughtfully. Zhao Kuangyi continued: "And compared to the power of the Censorate, what pleases your father more is precisely this matter."

"In the past half year, that fellow Murong Defeng has installed quite a few people throughout the court and beyond, many in key and weighty positions. He cannot help but be smug and arrogant."

"Clearly, even if one is regarded by His Majesty as a trusted confidant, a right arm and left hand, if one's power becomes too great, suspicion is inevitable."

"Your Majesty does not trust Murong Defeng without reservation, and the rift between ruler and minister may well begin from this point. That alone is enough to make your father happy for a while."

Hearing Zhao Kuangyi's scheming words, Zhao Dechong furrowed his brow slightly, yet he could hardly spoil his good mood, and could only let out a soft sigh. At this moment, was his own father not also carried away by complacency?