Chapter 2098: Taizong Arc 40: The Yongxi Golden Age

In the second month of spring in the fifth year of Yongxi, on the day of the Dragon Raises Its Head, Emperor Liu Yang, who had led his ministers to complete the "first plow" of the year in the outskirts of the capital, seemed to be in good spirits. Looking at the vast expanse of farmland that the nobles and powerful families had turned over, Liu Yang smiled knowingly—this was probably the most relaxed smile he had shown since ascending the throne five years ago.

Since taking the throne, many of Liu Yang's actions had been modeled on the early years of Emperor Shizu. Personally attending to affairs, wielding the plow, and setting an example—this was one manifestation of his fine work style. From the day he ascended the throne, he had done this every year without fail, never once slacking.

Even so, Liu Yang was still not satisfied. He had already instructed those around him that in the coming year, he would choose a place to do something more practical—to work side by side with farmers in actual labor, so as to truly demonstrate his and the court's emphasis on agriculture, rather than merely putting on a show.

Liu Yang placed extraordinary importance on agriculture, sericulture, weaving, and farming. He knew deeply that this was the foundation of the state and the basis of a stable nation. Without sufficient output of grain and cloth, the Great Han would be unable to take a single step forward, and popular unrest and rebellion would never cease.

Liu Yang harbored no such extravagant hope as completely solving the food problem of the Great Han's people—after all, even Emperor Shizu had failed to accomplish that, so who was he to think he could? However, settling his mind, keeping his feet on the ground, and diligently working for the state and the people, striving to develop production and accumulate grain, cloth, salt, and tea—these were things within Liu Yang's power, and things he had always practiced.

Therefore, in the past few years, aside from carrying out sweeping reforms in the three areas of official governance, rule of law, and tax reform, Liu Yang had devoted most of his energy to agricultural affairs.

To encourage and guide agriculture and sericulture, Liu Yang had issued the "Edict on Encouraging Agriculture" for three consecutive years, requiring all local governments to guarantee normal order in the countryside and the normal development of agriculture. Ensuring that the farming seasons were not missed was only the minimum requirement.

The Imperial Observatory had to compile the next year's official calendar half a year in advance, then print and distribute it to all circuits, prefectures, and counties across the nation, so as to guide local farmers in producing according to local conditions and seasons. During the farming season, if production difficulties arose, the local government was required to provide relief loans including, but not limited to, grain seeds, farm tools, and livestock... In short, they had to do everything possible to ensure farmers, herders, and fishermen a stable and peaceful working environment.

Many of these policies were merely basic operations of the imperial era, and there was already ample experience from the Shizu period. Compared to the Shizu era, perhaps the biggest difference after entering the Yongxi era was the strengthening of oversight.

Every farming season, Liu Yang would dispatch capable officials (not just censors) from the various ministries and bureaus of the capital to travel to all circuits and prefectures across the nation to supervise and inspect agricultural production—what the localities called "agricultural patrols."

Although for the Great Han Empire's more than 1,300 counties, a mere one or two hundred "agricultural patrols" could not possibly provide complete coverage, and even where they did visit, it was often difficult to have a decisive effect, the court's attitude was nevertheless conveyed through this unprecedented intensity of inspection. Local bureaucrats and officials, when handling affairs, could at least show a bit more awareness and vigilance.

At the same time, for bureaucratic crimes—especially crimes related to agricultural affairs—a policy of heavier and stricter punishment was adopted.

In the autumn and winter of the second year of Yongxi, the court conducted an investigation into the deficits of the ever-normal granaries and charity granaries across the country. Many problems came to light, and a large portion of them involved funds misappropriated on the pretext of "agricultural affairs," of which very little actually ended up being used for the farmers. Much of it was ultimately converted into money and fell into the hands of corrupt officials.

Some local bureaucrats were just that brazen, and no matter how one looked at it, farmers always seemed the easiest to bully and the easiest to reach into. The inspection of the two granaries gradually evolved into a major initiative in the court's rectification of official governance.

However, in actual implementation, the court was very cautious, only punishing a batch of officials whose crimes were severe and whose embezzlement was enormous, as a warning to others. As for the rest, they received only minor punishments as a deterrent, with internal warnings. There was no choice—the court was beset with many affairs, and internal and external instability prevailed. In handling many matters, Liu Yang had to exercise an extra measure of caution. Some compromises were not weakness, but wise choices.

But in the past two years, the situation had changed somewhat. As his authority gradually solidified, Liu Yang had become increasingly tough on certain "bottom-line" issues.

For example, on agricultural matters, he might not be able to stop every noble and official from reaching out their hands, but anyone who dared to do so—once discovered—would surely have those hands cut off. And those who dared to bully farmers or oppress the people would receive no mercy whatsoever, and would be dealt with under severe punishment.

Many times, one cannot judge a person merely by impressions. Take Emperor Shizu, for instance—his impression among ministers and subjects had always been one of coldness and harshness, unpredictable moods, and countless executions, which was why he was feared and revered.

Liu Yang, on the other hand, had appeared before the world since childhood with a face of gentle refinement, modesty, and benevolence. After ascending the throne, his caution in punishment and sparing use of the death penalty had become a new label for him—the philosophy of his Yongxi governance.

But the truth was far from that. Not counting casualties from rebellions like the Shu rebellion, if one used the Great Han's "Criminal Code" as a guide and compared the "annual execution rates" of the Kaibao and Yongxi eras, one would find that in Liu Yang's time, the death penalty rate for crimes committed by officials and commoners was far higher than in the Shizu era.

The most fundamental reason was that Emperor Shizu did not treat criminals as people, generally extracting their surplus value through convict labor camps or exile overseas.

But Liu Yang, through long-term observation and practice, had discovered that Emperor Shizu's approach was too harsh on the common people—easily provoking popular resentment—yet too lenient on the powerful and noble, because whether in convict labor camps or overseas, they always found ways to escape those hardships, idling away their sentences, and then continuing to break the law and throw their weight around.

This was also the reason Liu Yang, upon taking power, had eagerly reformed the convict labor camps. However, in the art of "harmonization," Liu Yang could be called a master synthesizer. His reforms did not abolish the convict labor camps—their benefits were still being promoted—but rather made certain adjustments to the policies regarding convicts.

For example, he "raised" the standard for penal servitude. Those who deserved death were now directly executed according to the "Criminal Code," no longer sent to the convict labor camps to "suffer."

Thus, many nobles and powerful figures discovered that the cost of corruption, embezzlement, and committing crimes had imperceptibly risen. If they went too far, there was no longer the convict labor camp or the various vassal states as a buffer. In many cases, death was not what people feared most. What truly terrified them was that the Emperor had learned another trick from Emperor Shizu's early years: when an official committed a crime, it would affect the future prospects of his descendants—direct relatives within three generations would not be eligible for official appointment.

With all these measures deployed, the nobles and bureaucrats of the realm were suppressed by Liu Yang—at least on the surface, they no longer dared to stir up trouble.

As a result, the Great Han Empire's politics became clear and upright, the social environment and public order gradually improved, production in all sectors proceeded in an orderly fashion, and annual tax revenues in money and grain grew steadily. Especially in the past year, the fourth year of Yongxi, according to statistics from the Finance Commission, the level had already recovered to around the eighteenth year of Kaibao.

One should know that the eighteenth year of Kaibao was the peak of Emperor Shizu's "Kaibao Golden Age." Even Liu Yang found such results hard to believe. However, if one truly probed the reasons, there weren't that many "whys" to be found.

First, it was inseparable from the solid foundation laid by Emperor Shizu. Second, it was related to Liu Yang's vigorous rectification—this point was especially important. A healthy and stable environment did far too much to promote the Great Han people's production and enterprise.

There was also the fact that Liu Yang did not engage in disruptive schemes, practiced strict frugality, and resolutely and firmly implemented the policy of rest and recuperation—these were also important reasons.

Finally, one might have to mention tax reform. No matter how many compromises were in the final result, once the central government and the localities reached reconciliation and consensus, tax revenue under the new system was simply higher.

It could be said that under Liu Yang's rule, in just a few short years, the Great Han Empire had already taken on a new face, and was advancing toward a golden age of material abundance, cultural prosperity, and military strength in an unprecedentedly "healthy" state.

Although it was only the beginning, quite a few officials in the court had already raised the concept of the "Yongxi Golden Age." Whether they were flattering the Emperor or genuinely recognizing and submitting to Liu Yang as their sovereign, in any case, the Great Han Empire entering the fifth year of Yongxi was in an excellent situation across the board.

Against such a backdrop, Liu Yang, as Emperor, naturally had a good mood.

However, the good mood did not last long. Just as Liu Yang was discussing with the chancellor and Finance Commissioner Zhang Qixian the importance of agricultural affairs and the repeatedly contentious "dispute over agricultural officials" in the court, news of a death arrived—Grand Secretary of the Inner Cabinet and Grand Tutor Li Fang had passed away.

Li Fang had died of illness. He was old, and some aches and pains were perfectly normal. He had fallen ill in the autumn of last year and had been recuperating at home ever since, but who would have thought that while recuperating, he would recuperate himself to death. Toward Li Fang, Liu Yang naturally harbored deep feelings—after all, from the time he became Crown Prince, the bond between sovereign and minister, teacher and student, had begun, built on decades of accumulated trust. And all along, Li Fang had been outstanding in his "loyalty and integrity" toward Liu Yang, repeatedly suffering grievances on the Crown Prince's account before Emperor Shizu, yet always accepting them willingly. When the Crown Prince, constrained by circumstances, dared not speak up for him and felt guilty about it, it was Li Fang who instead comforted him.

If one said Liu Yang regarded Li Fang as a father, that would indeed be going too far, but the respect and trust he held for Li Fang were utterly undiminished. Therefore, upon hearing of Li Fang's death, one can imagine how Liu Yang felt.

However, not changing his expression even when Mount Tai collapses—that was the psychological fortitude Liu Yang had forged through countless trials. So nothing showed on his face. But the first thing he did after ordering the return to the city was to go to Li Fang's residence.

Back when he was still Crown Prince, Liu Yang had seen Emperor Shizu mourn the passing of old friends countless times and sigh at the ruthlessness of time. At the time, he had merely sighed along with him. Over the years, he had seen much of life and death. But today, standing in the mourning hall of the Grand Tutor's residence, standing before Li Fang's coffin, Liu Yang finally began to faintly understand what Emperor Shizu had felt back then.

Bowing solemnly before Li Fang's coffin, Liu Yang asked: "Before Teacher Li passed, did he leave any words?"

The one currently managing affairs at the Grand Tutor's residence was Li Fang's third son, Secretariat Drafter Li Zong'e. He was Li Fang's most outstanding son—a jinshi degree holder who had obtained office through his abilities, unlike his other sons, who merely relied on family connections for hereditary appointments and served as minor assistant officials at the prefectural and county level in the localities.

Upon hearing the Emperor's question, Li Zong'e, overcome with grief, said in a tearful voice: "To answer Your Majesty, my father, before his final moments, gave no other instructions, only saying that having been born under a wise and enlightened sovereign, he had no regrets in this life—and so he passed with a smile."

"Such words are not without comfort!" Liu Yang could not help but sigh emotionally at this.

Although Li Fang's family was not in straitened circumstances, Liu Yang still specially ordered the Court of the Imperial Treasury to allocate 500 strings of cash to subsidize the funeral expenses. For Liu Yang, this amount was already quite generous.

And the greatest honor bestowed upon Li Fang after his death was Liu Yang's posthumous conferral upon him of the title "Duke of Rao." Even though this was merely a posthumous honorary title, with no salary attached, let alone hereditary succession, it still fully demonstrated the Emperor's remembrance of Li Fang.

Naturally, he did not forget Li Fang's descendants. All of his sons received appropriate promotions, especially Secretariat Drafter Li Zong'e, who was promoted to Drafter of Imperial Edicts—a position close to the center of power of the Great Han, low in rank but weighty in authority.

The spring breeze brought warmth, accompanied by boundless scenery, yet it could not carry away the faint melancholy in Liu Yang's heart. Inside Chuigong Hall, Liu Yang leaned askew in a soft chair, flipping through a book in his hands: *Wenyuan Yinghua* (The Finest Flowers of the Literary Garden).

This was a work compiled under Li Fang's leadership, together with the Academicians and erudites of the Three Institutes, collecting poetry and prose from the end of the Liang dynasty in the Southern Dynasties through to the Kaibao era of the current dynasty, totaling 1,150 volumes. This had also been Li Fang's key work in recent years.

Whether it was for fame or other reasons, from the Kaibao era onward, the court had allocated substantial funds to recruit learned scholars and compile great books.

For example, the *Kaibao General Compendium*, completed in the mid-Kaibao period, was a magnum opus encompassing everything—a veritable contemporary encyclopedia. And then there was the *Kaibao Extensive Records*, a collection of miscellaneous anecdotes, immortals and ghosts, famous objects, and allusions.

And then there was this *Wenyuan Yinghua*, which, together with the previous two, were collectively known as the "Three Great Books" of the Kaibao era.

*Wenyuan Yinghua* was first completed in the late Kaibao period, though at that time its records of poetry and prose only extended to the end of the Tang dynasty. After Liu Yang ascended the throne, however, he ordered it expanded, incorporating excellent poetry and prose from the "Three Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms" period through the reigns of Gaozu and Shizu, and it was only completed in its final form at the beginning of last year.

Liu Yang had not done much research on poetry and prose. What he had studied since childhood were the practical subjects of governing the state and managing affairs, and how to be a Crown Prince and half-sovereign. Still, that did not stop him from flipping through it—it also served as a remembrance of Grand Tutor Li.

However, after flipping through it for a while, Liu Yang discovered a problem. He looked up and asked the Inner Cabinet Academician Wang Dan standing beside him: "Why are the Grand Tutor's own poems and prose not included?"

Wang Dan evidently knew about this matter and said: "To report to Your Majesty, Lord Li was modest in his self-assessment, believing his own talent insufficient and his poetry and prose vulgar, unfit for the halls of elegance, and not daring to be listed alongside the ancients. Therefore, he refused to have his works included in *Wenyuan Yinghua*."

Hearing this explanation, Liu Yang shook his head and said: "The Grand Tutor's modesty is one thing, but if even the Grand Tutor's poetry and prose are not included, how could others feel anything but embarrassed? Add the Grand Tutor's works as well. Otherwise, would it not make the Great Han seem devoid of talent, unable to stand alongside the Tang?"

"Your Majesty speaks truly!" Wang Dan immediately responded.

After a moment of deliberation, Wang Dan took the initiative to clasp his hands and say: "Your Majesty, there is one more matter on which I request Your Majesty's instruction!"

"Speak!"

Wang Dan said: "After the Grand Tutor's passing, the compilation of the *Veritable Records of Emperor Shizu* will need another person to take charge!"

The *Veritable Records of Shizu* — just from the name, one could tell what kind of book it was. Of course, it had always been in the process of compilation, but while Shizu was alive, there were always more scruples to contend with. Thus, after Liu Yang ascended the throne, the organization and compilation of the *Veritable Records of Shizu* was placed on the agenda.

One must understand that Shizu had ruled the Great Han for a full forty-five years. In such a long and stable period, too many things had happened, and the various records were vast as a sea of smoke. Even if a "draft" had already been written for decades, compiling it into a book would require enormous time, manpower, and financial resources.

This matter was still entrusted to Li Fang as chief editor to oversee and control the progress, but even to his death, the book remained unfinished.

Liu Yang naturally attached exceptional importance to the compilation of the *Veritable Records of Shizu*. In his eyes, there were too many things about Shizu worth learning from. Now that direct instruction was no longer possible, he could only summarize and ponder through the memories of history.

Therefore, after only a moment's consideration, he gave the order: "Appoint Grand Academician of the Jixian Hall, Chai Yuxi, as chief editor of the *Veritable Records*, and additionally grant him the title of Grand Academician of the Inner Cabinet and Imperial Advisor!"

"Yes!"

It was only after entering the Yongxi era that the Great Han Empire truly entered a cultural golden age, and this was determined by the Emperor's likes and dislikes. Although Emperor Shizu respected civil officials and valued learning, he always carried a contemptuous attitude toward the traditional literati, and he often had heretical remarks, actions, and policies. Sometimes, he even made people afraid to speak.

In comparison, Liu Yang was far more lenient. Even though he was also a pragmatist, he could still maintain a semblance of propriety and at least held a "fair" attitude toward the traditional literati.

This was also the reason why Emperor Yongxi's reputation was better than Emperor Shizu's. Coupled with stable social order, economic vitality, and clean governance, it inevitably brought about great cultural prosperity.

Starting from the third year of Yongxi, another encyclopedic reference work of political history also began compilation. The aging Grand Academician of the Inner Cabinet, Xu Xuan, still propped up his old bones while bearing the title of chief editor.

It was not just policy-driven activities like book compilation. Over the past few years, extremely obvious changes could be seen in the capital as well. There were more poems, lyrics, and essays of all kinds, more literary gatherings of all sorts, and more importantly, the content — not just romantic themes and praises of prosperity, but also those daring to discuss politics with substance. These were very difficult to see in the Shizu era, and even when they existed, they were mostly obscure, except for pragmatic realists like Liu Kai and Wang Yucheng.