Chapter 2091: Taizong Chronicles 33: The Age of Yongxi

While the Shu rebels were being collectively executed, the late Jiannan Administration Commissioner Pan You was simultaneously rehabilitated. Emperor Liu Yang issued a special edict to clear his name and restore his honor.

This was because, during the height of the bandit troubles in Chuanshu, Pan You had been made a scapegoat by certain people in Jiannan and at court, who claimed that the Shu rebellion originated with Pan You, and heaped every possible crime and blame upon his head.

The man was already dead and could not prove his innocence, and to make matters worse, when Wang Xiaobo first raised his banner, he did so under the slogan of avenging Pan You, and the reaction of the common folk in Shu further magnified and aggravated Pan You's "crimes."

At the time, although Liu Yang saw the matter with perfect clarity and felt indignation at the attacks surging against Pan You, he chose to look the other way—whether to preserve the "greater good" or to lull those people into complacency.

As a result, Pan You not only died without a good end, but after death drew fierce denunciation and extremely unjust treatment, branded a treacherous villain and rebel minister, his reputation utterly destroyed. It even extended to his descendants—his daughter, who had married far from home, was cast out by her husband's family with a letter of divorce and left to drift through the world.

Pan You, this upright minister, this solitary minister, may not have fully agreed with Liu Yang, but Liu Yang had always harbored a measure of respect for him. He had always been aware of Pan You's plight, yet for political reasons had never spoken out about it—even after the Shu rebellion was pacified, he had continued to hold back.

Only when the true traitors and rebels were brought to justice did Pan You's rehabilitation begin. Liu Yang had Hanlin Academician Wang Dan compose a spirit-path stele inscription for Pan You, recording his loyalty and merits—not merely restoring his reputation, but granting him extremely high posthumous honors: the posthumous name Wenlie, and a place in the Imperial Ancestral Temple.

At the same time, Liu Yang ordered a stele and shrine erected for Pan You in Chengdu as a memorial. He also had Pan You's daughter located, bestowed upon her five hundred mu of fields and a residence, and found her a new husband from a respectable family—showing meticulous care.

Although Pan You had never counted himself among the southern official faction, the southern bureaucrats who had been rising in prominence at court in recent years—especially the southeastern bureaucrats—had always regarded him as one of the spokesmen for the southeastern interest class.

Back then, the attacks and blame-shifting directed at Pan You within the court had also been mixed with intentions to suppress the southeastern officialdom. After all, the strength born of great economic and cultural development inevitably made the northern nobles, bureaucrats, and literati who held the dominant voice at court feel threatened.

Therefore, when the emperor's decision to rehabilitate Pan You was announced, the happiest people in the capital region were precisely that group of southern ministers. As for the other nobles, officials, and ordinary scholars and commoners—they had little affection for Pan You.

Led by officials of Jiangnan origin, a memorial service was held for Pan You. Grand Academician of the Grand Secretariat Xu Xuan—the towering figure of literature and history, the living fossil leader of the southeastern scholarly world—contributed his own residence as the venue for the memorial service and, at the age of seventy-nine, personally presided over it and delivered the eulogy. Many officials came upon hearing the news to pay their respects.

Of course, the most eye-catching development was that Emperor Liu Yang came in person, offered incense to Pan You, and delivered a moving speech, giving Pan You his final verdict with the words "bowing to the task to the utmost, unto death."

There was no shortage of dissent within the court regarding the generous treatment of Pan You after his death—on the contrary, one could say there was no end of grumbling. It was still because the emperor had elevated Pan You too high. From a mere "criminal minister" to a "loyal minister" whose name would be remembered for generations—such an earth-and-heaven reversal was hard to accept even with the deceased gone.

Just one question: what had Pan You done to deserve this? How many loyal ministers and good talents had bowed to the utmost for the Great Han, unto death—was he the only one?

Clearly, Liu Yang's actions carried special political intent. Compared to titles like "loyal minister" or "upright official," the most conspicuous mark on Pan You—and the thing that drew the most hatred and disgust—was only one: a vanguard of reform.

Nothing else—this man truly worked hard and pragmatically, leaving no room for compromise and fearing no one's displeasure. Someone too pure to form cliques should never expect to hear kind words from others' mouths.

And Liu Yang's raising up of Pan You as a "model" was also to settle another debate within the court after the Shu rebellion was pacified: whether the unified land tax reform should continue.

The Shu rebellion had delivered a tremendous shock to the Great Han court. Although countless historical records described how much power and destructive force ordinary commoners could unleash when they erupted, without experiencing it firsthand, one would never have a truly painful awakening.

From the time the main rebel forces were destroyed, from Luoyang to Chengdu, the ruling class had been reflecting on the roots of the unrest. Although many people's understanding remained at a shallow, superficial level, some men of insight did put forward genuine and penetrating views.

The land problem, the tax system problem, the wealth disparity problem, the supervision problem—ultimately, it all came down to a problem of the social operating mechanism. To solve it completely was basically impossible; even a society ruled by law couldn't manage it, let alone a society ruled by men.

However, as the empire's ruling class, holding absolute discursive power over society and the vast majority of social resources, they still needed to possess a certain degree of awareness and a shred of bottom line.

The nobles of Shu, by contrast, had done the exact opposite—defying the court's commands above and ignoring the common people's voices below, ultimately brewing a cataclysm.

The Shu rebellion inflicted extremely severe losses on the population and economy of the southwest—one could say it was a grievous blow to its vitality. Yet if one looked through the piles of bones and rivers of blood, from a long-term perspective, it seemed not entirely without benefit.

At the very least, a large portion of that simmering popular resentment was released. Decades of stubborn accumulated ills, after such an impact, collapsed as well, providing a blank slate and an opportunity for the court's post-rebellion reforms.

The nobles, bureaucrats, and landlords who had once run rampant now had to sheathe their ferocious fangs, or at least learn to put on a benevolent appearance and perform charitable deeds.

Tenant farmers and sharecroppers were no longer grass to be trampled at will. Unrestrained exploitation began to be curbed. The ruling class learned to reflect and no longer dared to completely ignore the voices of the lower people.

Of course, given the ruling class's nature, such reflection and repentance might not last long—after all, forgetting the pain once the wound heals is the natural law.

And how long the ruling class remembered the pain bought with bloody death was itself a measure of its value—though no matter how one looked at it, it hardly seemed worth it, even excessively tragic.

At least, from the second year of Yongxi onward, for the next twenty to thirty years, social contradictions in Shu would remain at a relatively low level—something no reform or improvement under the Great Han Empire's rule could have achieved.

On the court's side, they began applying the lessons of the Shu rebellion to the correction and rectification of the other circuits, prefectures, and counties.

But likewise, there were still those who stubbornly attributed the root of the Shu rebellion to the "tax reform." In their words, had there been no reform and had the old system been followed, the Shu rebellion would never have happened.

And the new tax system's implementation had produced so many problems and contradictions that it was already enough to put the court on alert. With the Shu rebellion as a warning before them, they could not afford to be careless.

As for what those who held this argument were really after, Liu Yang knew perfectly well. Therefore, giving Pan You, this famous minister of tax reform, a lavish posthumous affair was his statement of position.

As for the ills and problems those people raised, Liu Yang had already begun addressing them in the autumn and winter of the first year of Yongxi. He stubbornly believed that the flaws of the tax reform lay in poor implementation and lax supervision.

He chose to regulate through disciplining officials, clarifying the law, and relieving the people. Until this approach proved a failure, his resolve for reform remained firm.

Of course, Liu Yang had no choice either. Compared to the foreseeable chaos of a failed tax reform, he would rather grit his teeth and persist on this difficult road. Governing a state was like treating an illness—one could not use medicines recklessly or mix them haphazardly.

Before long, the emperor issued an edict: Governor of Kaifeng Li Hang was appointed Administration Commissioner of the Jiannan Circuit, and the retired veteran minister Liu Tinghan, who had served as Minister of War, was reactivated as Chief Commander of the Jiannan Circuit. At the same time, the Pacification Commissioner Yang Yanzhao and the Husheng Army were recalled, while over ten thousand men of the Fengguo Army remained stationed in Chengdu. The troops of the Guannei, Shannan, Huguang, and Jingxi circuits were sent back, each with rewards. Thus, the post-rebellion affairs of Chuanshu entered a new phase.

The three most core positions in the southwest's military and civil administration—Administration Commissioner, Chief Commander, and Prefect of Chengdu—had all been replaced.

Xu Shilian, this Prefect of Chengdu, seemed to be emulating Zhao Pu of the late Qianyou era and Zhang Yong of the early Kaibao era. This scholar who, over twenty years ago, had daringly beaten the drum at the palace gate to appeal against unfair examination practices was now staging yet another drama of officialdom's vicissitudes and capricious fortune.

It had to be said that over the past few decades, although the court had been continuously bleeding Chuanshu dry, it had not shortchanged the region politically. First there were the twenty-four meritorious ministers who pacified Shu, including Xiang Xun and Zhao Kuangyin; later came famous ministers like Zhao Pu and Zhang Yong, who spanned the entire Kaibao era, played prominent roles in Kaibao political activities, and held important historical positions.

They had all forged deep and inextricable ties with Chuanshu and the southwest. Now, as Li Hang and Xu Shilian stepped onto the southwest's historical and political stage, it seemed a new cycle was beginning to turn.

Li Hang, like Xu Shilian, was not yet fifty, and both had been close ministers to the current emperor. But unlike Xu Shilian's dramatic ups and downs, Li Hang's official career had been far smoother—compared to Xu Shilian, he was a pure winner in life.

A top-ranked graduate of the imperial examinations, valued by two emperors, his reputation for virtue spread far and wide, outstanding at court. Sent out starting as Prefectural Administrator of Zhengzhou, he rose steadily to Deputy Commissioner of the Capital Region and then Governor of Kaifeng. Those great thresholds that stymied most officials' promotions were as easy for him as drinking water.

Of course, all of this was based on Li Hang's own solid character and ability—otherwise, given how Emperor Shizu and the current emperor selected personnel, Li Hang would never have climbed so high.

On the other hand, Li Hang and Xu Shilian were both members of the court's "prime-of-life faction" and both old retainers of the Son of Heaven. Placing them in Jiannan fully demonstrated the emperor's and the court's regard for Chuanshu. As for Liu Tinghan serving as Chief Commander of Jiannan while also concurrently holding the post of Patrol Inspector of the Five Southwestern Circuits, that was because Liu Yang needed someone in the military sphere who was both reliable and reassuring.

Setting everything else aside, Liu Tinghan's seniority and prestige were more than sufficient—after all, he had once served as Commissioner of Military Affairs. And in the Great Han's military establishment today, those who had participated in the Qianyou Northern Expedition and earned distinguished battle merits were as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. Even Liu Tinghan was white-haired now; his willingness to come out of retirement and work again was the result of the emperor's sincere invitation.

And Liu Tinghan, nearly seventy years old—could anyone fear he would harm the court? At the very least, his ability in handling people and affairs was enough to set Liu Yang's mind at ease.

As for the former Chief Commander Shangguan Zheng, he was permitted to retire in his current post. This was still in consideration of his vigorous efforts in suppressing the rebellion during the Shu unrest—otherwise, given his close dealings with the Wang clan, those three hundred-odd heads at the Southern Market in Luoyang might well have included his.

Of course, the adjustment of the southwest's military and civil administration went far beyond these three men and three posts. But this was a long-term process. Emperor Liu Yang, having learned from bitter experience, was determined to carry out a major overhaul of the southwest, and the recovery period after great chaos genuinely provided a favorable operating environment.

Pull one hair and the whole body moves. The adjustments in the southwest's military and civil administration, reflected in Luoyang, manifested as a major personnel upheaval at court.

For example, Duke of Wenguo Xiang Deming, for his merit in holding firm and suppressing the rebellion, replaced Gao Qiong as the new Minister of War, while Gao Qiong was transferred to serve as Patrol Inspector of the Five Northwestern Circuits to inspect the northwestern border defenses.

Behind Xiang Deming's transfer there was actually another hidden story. Logically, moving him up to the central government so urgently was not conducive to the post-rebellion affairs of Jiannan. It was just that during his tenure in Jiannan, he had broken too many constraints of the court system—especially by seriously interfering in military affairs.

Of course, given the strong authority local chief administrators possessed in a time of peace, every regional first-in-command had more or less influence over local military matters. But Xiang Deming's conduct during his time in Chengdu had still overstepped the regulations by too much—something that would have been a great taboo during Emperor Shizu's reign.

Even if expediency had justified it at the time, if one truly pursued the matter afterward, charging him with overstepping regulations and violating the law would have had legal basis and precedent.

Of course, Liu Yang was not the kind of emperor who failed to understand his subordinates' circumstances. Therefore, as soon as the Jiannan situation gradually stabilized, he immediately initiated the personnel adjustment. The post of Minister of War and material rewards were sufficient to compensate his merits, and the epithet "Governor of Emergency Relief" seemed just right as an evaluation of Xiang Deming's tenure in Jiannan. Additionally, in the court's merit assessment for pacifying the Shu rebellion, Xiang Deming was ranked first.

Like Xiang Deming, Yang Yanzhao, as the military commander who pacified the Shu rebellion, was promoted one grade upon returning to court, appointed Deputy Chief Commander of the Imperial Guard Command. As mentioned before, this was in fact already a sinecure—the real power lay with the Chief Inspector.

This practice of promoting in name while demoting in substance might wound the hearts of meritorious ministers, so Liu Yang gave him generous monetary rewards as well. It was also because Yang Yanzhao was still too young—just past forty—and Liu Yang could not discard this proven general of talent. In his plan, after two years in the position of Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guard, gaining some seasoning, Yang Yanzhao could naturally take on heavier duties and responsibilities.

The man who replaced Yang Yanzhao as Chief Inspector of the Imperial Guard Command was not too surprising: Hexi Chief Commander Guo Yi. At this point, Yang Yanzhao, Li Jilong, and Guo Yi—the "Three Heroes" personally selected by Emperor Shizu—officially began to become the leading figures in the Great Han's military establishment.

Chief Censor Yang Ye then smoothly withdrew to the second line, bearing the title of Grand Preceptor, enjoying his grandchildren at home. From now on, people would have to address him as "Grand Preceptor Yang."

As for who would succeed Yang Ye, Liu Yang chose Han Hui, the Right Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs, to take the post. A man of both civil and military ability, with deep seniority, Chancellor Han the "Bag" had sufficient skill and experience—and at the same time, this served as a check on Zhao Kuangyi. Against the backdrop of continuously perfecting the supervisory system and strengthening the authority of the legal and censorial apparatus, Liu Yang could hardly allow any single person to hold unchecked power alone.

At the same time, Liu Yang finally transferred Zhang Qixian to the post of Right Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs, concurrently serving as Finance Commissioner, further strengthening the real power of the "Emperor's Faction" at court.

As for the former Finance Commissioner Zhang Yong, he hurriedly retired in his current post, ending his political career and returning to his hometown to live out his years. Within two years, he died of depression.

As one of the meritorious officials of the Kaibao era, Zhang Yong's ending was certainly bleak, yet it was not entirely without warning. Such a severe rebellion had occurred in Chuanshu, causing unprecedented losses to both the government and the people—someone had to bear responsibility.

In the southwest, there were over three hundred guilty officials; at court, there had to be a person of sufficient weight as well. Counting them over, only Zhang Yong fit! Nor should he feel wronged—among those officials in Chuanshu, many had indeed been personally promoted by Zhang Yong, and they had also been beheaded at Nanshi Kou.

At this point, the power structure of the Great Han court underwent another tremendous change: Director of the Secretariat Liu Ai, Director of State Affairs Lü Duan, Left Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs Zhao Kuangyi, Right Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs and concurrent Finance Commissioner Zhang Qixian, Commissioner of Military Affairs Cao Bin, Censor-in-Chief Han Hui, Minister of Personnel Murong Defeng, Minister of War Xiang Deming—and of course, Prince Zhao Liu Fang, that Assistant Chief Minister who drifted outside the center of power. Together, these men constituted the upper echelon of the Great Han's power hub.

Compared with the beginning of the first year of Yongxi, the greatest difference was that Emperor Liu Yang's authority had become even more consolidated; he was steadily and thoroughly grasping the discourse and initiative that belonged to the emperor.

Not long after completing the major personnel adjustments at court, Emperor Liu Yang issued another decree, ordering all circuits and prefectures throughout the realm to self-inspect the conditions of the "Two Granaries" and tax treasuries. At the same time, the Ministry of Personnel, the Finance Bureau, and the Censorate each dispatched capable officials to various localities to assist in the inspections. This single decree once again sent a chill through the Great Han officialdom, because everyone knew what it was for, and this hurdle would not be easy to clear.

Still, in the process of raising supplies for suppressing the rebellion and subsequently aiding Shu, the court discovered that many localities had shortfalls and simply could not meet the court's dispatch requirements. The problem, of course, lay in the localities' misappropriation and deficits of money and grain—even outright theft.

Seizing this opportunity, Liu Yang naturally had to launch reforms of the central government's oversight over local fiscal power. This was the second salvo of his "Yongxi Reforms," and it was especially important.

Likewise, this task was still not easy to carry out. Local fiscal misappropriation and deficits were extremely common; how to resolve them, however, was not so simple.

Making localities conjure up money and grain out of thin air to fill the deficits was, of course, unrealistic. Therefore, strengthening institutional oversight was the primary goal—and in the process, of course, old accounts had to be examined and the crimes of those vermin pursued.

Originally, someone proposed setting a deadline for local governments to fill their own deficits, with those failing to do so punished according to law. That was simple and crude, but Liu Yang rejected it almost without a second thought. In his judgment, this would simply give local officials yet another pretext to exploit the localities—crooked practices were inevitable, and the people of the Great Han could not afford more upheaval.

Originally, at the end of the Kaibao era, the court's finances had been balanced with a certain amount of deficit. After the Shu rebellion, from suppressing the revolt to post-war rehabilitation, plus a series of inherent large expenditures, a new round of fiscal strain had arrived for the Great Han court.

In response, Liu Yang chose "conservative treatment." On one hand, he vigorously compressed expenditures from the palace to the court bureaucracy; on another, he intensified the crackdown on corrupt officials, tyrannical gentry, and local bullies; and on yet another, he increased the acquisition of external resources.

To this end, Liu Yang even engaged in the "population" trade with the vassal states of the South Seas. The rebels captured during the Shu rebellion numbered nearly three hundred thousand. The court dared not simply release them, could not execute them either, and feeding them for free cost money and grain—so they could only be temporarily demoted to penal labor camps to serve hard labor.

And as one of the benevolent policies of Yongxi, Liu Yang's reform of the penal labor camps could not stop, so exporting them abroad once again became a choice made under comprehensive consideration.

But transporting three hundred thousand people to the various overseas fiefdoms would be prohibitively costly. Even if domestic "exile migration" could be used, ships would still be needed for the sea voyage.

So the kings of the South Seas fiefdoms "generously" stated that they could bear the cost, exchanging it for genuine gold and silver, spices, and agate. Of course, the Emperor also cared about appearances—he accepted the gold and silver as they were, while the rest was offset against the military expenses of the South Seas garrisons.

And so, a transaction beneficial to both inside and outside was concluded. For the court, the nature of the blood transfusion had not fundamentally changed, but the troubles removed and the money and grain saved were pure profit.

This also seemed to open the floodgates for an accelerated wave of external export during the Great Han era. After all, whether you were a guilty minister or a rebel within the empire, once you reached the fiefdoms, you were talent—the most precious resource.

To this end, Liu Min, Liu Ye, and Liu Wenyuan also submitted requests to the court. Ultimately, after careful deliberation, fifty thousand people were allocated to the Anxi direction, and ten thousand to Liu Wenyuan—likewise, the migration costs were borne by themselves.

Even more, Liu Yang specially sent over ten thousand people to Prince Zhao Liu Fang's Beiting Kingdom as well—voluntarily. For this most special younger brother, Liu Yang always showed some special care. And the Beiting Kingdom was currently being managed by Liu Fang's eldest son, Liu Wengong.

Meticulous calculation, walking on thin ice—these gradually became the portrait of Liu Yang throughout the entire Yongxi era.