Chapter 2140: Shizong Chronicles 8: Entering a New Era

In the second month of spring in the second year of Duangong, the Emperor issued an edict: the funeral cortege of Kangzong was to set forth, heading south to Ruzhou, where he would be interred at Pingling. By the time of departure, Liu Wenpeng's imperial body had lain in Chuigong Hall for nearly fourteen months. (Taizong's mausoleum was located in Zezhou, called Yuanling.)

And with Liu Wenpeng's burial, it also meant that the Great Han Empire had completely bid farewell to the Kangzong era and formally welcomed the era belonging to Liu Wenji. Shortly after returning to the capital, Liu Wenji issued a "Proclamation of Governance," making clear to the world that—one year after his ascension—he was formally conveying his governing philosophy and administrative program to all subjects, both within and without, high and low.

The edict was very long, with much content, but the distilled meaning was clear and concise. In total, it came down to two sentences: abolish the policies of the Pingkang era, and rectify the errors of Kangzong.

Over the past year, the court's operations had basically maintained the model of the Pingkang era, but compared to the Pingkang era, the scene at court was utterly different. From the Emperor on down, all loyal and upright ministers and men of insight were reflecting on the problems that had arisen during Kangzong's reign, taking them as a warning for the future.

Regarding these matters, Liu Wenji had received several hundred memorials over time. Judging from the memorials alone, many ministers had indeed engaged in deep and earnest reflection—one might say they had learned from past pain. Although there was no lack of admonition directed at Liu Wenji himself, he was quietly driving this trend forward. Those that were well-written he would specially take out and recommend to the ministers, and have them published by the Xuanwei Bureau.

Thus, with nearly a year of preparation, Liu Wenji chose to declare his intentions and elucidate his governing philosophy after Kangzong's burial. Naturally, this had an extraordinary effect, and he gained many supporters. At the very least, with Kangzong as the baseline before him, Liu Wenji displayed the bearing of an enlightened sovereign all too well.

But in fact, even having firmly secured the throne, Liu Wenji remained cautious in matters of voicing his own opinions and exercising imperial power. He merely added a touch of "action" upon the foundation of Kangzong's "inaction."

In concrete terms, Liu Wenji only clearly proposed four points: prohibit extravagance, advocate frugality, abolish grand projects, and establish new customs.

Prohibiting extravagance and advocating frugality were in fact one and the same, except that compared to the strict constraints and harsh suppression of the Taizong era, Liu Wenji's attitude and methods were somewhat more lenient. At the same time, he only drew red lines on state-funded public expenditures; as for private wealth, he merely advocated rather than commanded.

Abolishing grand projects referred specifically to Kangzong's "Crystal Palace" conception. Since his death, construction had ceased, the conscripted laborers had been sent home, building materials had been left to waste, and even the temporary construction command headquarters had been essentially disbanded. A batch of construction officials and eunuchs, under the circumstances of the work stoppage, had lived comfortably for over half a year on the funds that had been allocated in advance. Later, they were reported and all had their heads chopped off.

And after Wang Zeng assumed his post, amid his excitement, he worked even harder—after all, it was the first time in over twenty years that he had truly touched the hope of restoring his family's prestige. Within the half year of Wang Zeng's tenure at the Xuanwei Bureau, he demonstrated his support for the new Emperor through concrete actions.

During the transition of imperial power and the change of dynasties, many matters were always neglected—for instance, the triennial national examination, the great imperial examination. It should be noted that according to regular practice, the eighth year of Pingkang should have had a great examination, but that session was cancelled by Emperor Kangzong.

Emperor Liu Wenji appointed Minister of Rites and Chief Minister Chen Yaozuo to oversee the examination, serving as its chief supervisor. Chen Yaozuo had been transferred up from the Liangzhe circuit to the central government and made chancellor after Xu Shilian was demoted. This was certainly a form of "repayment," and at the same time, such titles as Minister of Rites and Chief Minister had not appeared for several decades. Through this appointment, the Emperor also demonstrated his emphasis on "moral education and cultivation." Perhaps this was the prelude to the true spring of the literati.

Along with Chen Yaozuo, another who was repaid was Duke of Yan, Wang Zeng. He was transferred from the Jinghu North circuit to serve as Commissioner of the Xuanwei Bureau, in charge of the central government's mouthpiece. This was in recognition of his decisive alignment before the succession, even if the efforts he and the Wang clan had put in had not played much practical role.

There were rumors among the people that the former chancellor Li Hang had died of illness while in retirement because, upon hearing of the Emperor's measures to abolish the examinations and those remarks, he had been so agitated that he died of rage.

Therefore, for the empire's scholars and the vast body of officials, the court's resumption of the imperial examination in the third month of the second year of Duangong was a grace after a full five-year gap. This move was destined to win hearts and minds, and to be embraced by the empire's scholarly community, officials, and students alike.

Thus, the half-finished Western Park summer retreat, which had already consumed enormous human, material, and financial resources, became a political sacrifice. The abandoned construction site and the desolate man-made lake became a huge scar within the imperial gardens—one that could not be healed or smoothed over except by the passage of ages.

Regarding the Western Park retreat, some had actually suggested continuing construction. After all, the initial investment had been enormous—the lake had already been dug, and half the palace foundations laid. The sunk cost was too high; to avoid waste, it could be completed, giving the Emperor a nearby place to escape the summer heat, even if modeled after the Qionglin Garden in the Eastern Capital.

On the surface, it was because he needed to prepare for the Heaven-worship ceremony and the northern inspection tour, but in reality, it was to further suppress the group of commoner-origin bureaucrats led by Li Hang who opposed him, because he had discovered that in the two imperial examinations of the Pingkang era, Li Hang and others had discovered and promoted quite a few officials of humble origins through the examination system.

This even caused a certain decline in the civilian sales of the Xuanbao, after all, common folk and street people—who cared about such things? And how many would be willing to spend that considerable price to buy a dry official gazette to read? Of course, the Xuanbao had a fixed market audience, and its original purpose in publication was for political propaganda; sales figures were always a secondary matter.

After Kangzong's burial and the proclamation of the governance edict, Wang Zeng organized his staff to begin carefully studying, analyzing, and evaluating it, exhausting every effort to mine its advanced ideological essence and policy concepts. They also collected policy essays from various ministries and bureaus and even from among the people, and the Xuanbao quickly saw a large number of policy interpretations appear.

Of course, Liu Wenji was well aware that discipline and morals could deteriorate quickly and easily, but reversing that was not something that could be done overnight. It required more patience, stronger authority, and more concrete actions—killing enough chickens to warn enough monkeys.

Even though Liu Wenji's "new policies" were full of conservatism and compromise, as he steadily and unhurriedly advanced along the established plan, he grew ever more at ease as Emperor, and his authority was quietly accelerating in its establishment and consolidation.

However, after careful consideration, the principle of political priority won out. Liu Wenji ultimately chose to completely halt the project. He had to make his stance clear and demonstrate his difference from Kangzong.

He and his subordinate staff and wordsmiths racked their brains, exhausting their ingenuity to argue from every angle and every aspect the legitimacy, legality, and reasonableness of the Emperor's succession. The court gazette was filled with page after page of praise for all the dignified, humble, tolerant, and virtue-esteeming words and deeds of the Emperor since his accession.

As for establishing new customs, this was aimed at the phenomenon during Kangzong's reign—especially the later period—when, throughout the court and among the powerful, many rules and regulations had been abandoned and struggles had become unchecked. Therefore, Liu Wenji specially raised high the banner of Taizong's legacy, declaring that he would emulate Taizong's policies of clarifying and strengthening the law, strictly enforcing statutes, and rectifying violations.

If you said Emperor Kangzong was foolish—well, when dealing with people, he often grasped the key points and struck at your vital spots. Yet the things he did were truly hard to call wise. At the time, he had even uttered a shocking statement: "I am sick of the empire's corrupt officials and redundant clerks being as numerous as mud and sand; I am precisely seeking to purify them—why add new personnel?"

At the same time, this session of the examination was also the one with the most candidates of any regular examination since the founding of the state—over eight thousand people in all, truly a moment of unprecedented flourishing.

And Wang Zeng's series of performances and measures naturally pleased the Emperor greatly, earning him much recognition and praise from Liu Wenji. Of course, Wang Zeng's series of operations also drew considerable criticism—after all, they were overly sycophantic and flattering. Some even brought out his grandfather Wang Pu, asking what bearing the old Duke had had in his day; compared to that, wasn't Wang Zeng's current behavior a disgrace to his ancestor's name?

To this, Wang Zeng, who had suffered the bitterness of "family decline," could hardly care about a few rumors and gossip. Compared to such criticism, entering the central government and bringing glory to the family name was the best repayment to his grandfather. Without his current position and status, how many people across the empire would even think of or mention his ancestor again?

For this spring examination, Wang Zeng also served as co-supervisor in his capacity as Commissioner of the Xuanwei Bureau, acting as deputy chief supervisor. At the same time, Liu Wenji appointed Grand Academician of the Jixian Hall and Vice Minister of Rites Yang Yi, along with Grand Academician and Director of the Palace Library Zhu Qi, as invigilators. Yang Yi and Zhu Qi—one a traditional erudite Confucian scholar, the other the standard-bearer of the Xiangjiang school—had been debating matters of governance, scholarship, thought, and morality for over twenty years. From the Taihe Tower in the early Yongxi era to the court halls of the Duangong era, they had debated continuously, and from the brilliant young talents of their day, they had become prematurely gray-haired leaders of their respective schools.

The lineup of chief invigilators could be called luxurious, also demonstrating the Emperor's emphasis on ritual, moral education, and the selection of talent. Compared to the past, this year's spring examination carried a distinctly different temperament—positive and upward, yet refreshing and novel.

In terms of results, this session also selected the most candidates of any examination—adding up all the various subjects, a full 428 people were admitted. Of course, compared to the number of candidates, the admission ratio had actually declined.

At the same time, in the distribution of admissions, Liu Wenji had deeply inherited the true legacy of Shizu and Taizong, raising back up the admission ratios for the agriculture, industry, medicine, and mathematics subjects that had been suppressed in the previous two sessions.

In fact, after nearly half a century of adjustment and practice, the court had developed a certain degree of acceptance for the specialized subjects. After all, the jinshi and mingjing tracks were too competitive, the competition too fierce, and the difficulty of passing too high. Meanwhile, the mingfa (law) and history subjects were essentially extensions of traditional subjects and were easier to accept.

In comparison, the four subjects of agriculture, industry, medicine, and mathematics, though inevitably viewed through colored glasses, still offered a path to official career. And apart from medicine—which required the most accumulation and was the most specialized—the other three subjects were relatively easier to get started in.

Of course, it could not be denied that even after Shizu and Taizong had promoted them for so many years, the development prospects of these specialized subjects were ultimately limited. Besides social consciousness, cultural atmosphere, and suppression by traditional bureaucrats, their own specialized nature restricted their development, and this ceiling was beginning to show.

Only one subject truly achieved great development—the mingfa (law) subject. Especially during the Taizong era, the Yongxi period had been a thoroughgoing "era of law," which also sparked a new round of "Confucian-Legalist debate" throughout the court and society.

Now that Liu Wenji had come to power, while inheriting the late Emperor's will and continuing to clarify the law and strengthen its enforcement, he was also quietly promoting "ming suan" (mathematics). This benefited from his many years of governing experience in Jiangnan. Especially after witnessing firsthand the great economic development of the southeast, Liu Wenji had come to favor more "refined" management in state administration, particularly fiscal management.

A large number of officials skilled in arithmetic was an important foundation. Liu Wenji's promotion of the establishment of Loujiang Academy was also aimed at cultivating talent in this area. In his view, an official who could do accounts—whether greedy or incorruptible—would always be somewhat smarter and more flexible in management.

Therefore, in this session of the examination, the number admitted in the mathematics subject reached an all-time high—a full 41 people.

Of course, no matter how much reform and change occurred, the core position of the jinshi subject remained unshakable. This was where the true elite ruling class was cultivated, and jinshi becoming chancellors had become a trend. At the very least, in all these years, no one had ever heard of anyone from other subjects entering the ranks of Chief Minister and stepping into the Hall of State Affairs.

Judging from the results, the second year of Duangong examination had indeed unearthed quite a few fine talents. To mention but a few, the top three: the zhuangyuan Cai Qi, the bangyan Yan Shu, and the tanhua Fan Zhongyan.

This was a victory for the commoner class!

From these three men, some obvious commonalities could be found. Although Cai Qi's ancestors had once served as county magistrates, his family fortunes had long declined. Orphaned young, he had lived under his maternal grandfather's roof. Yan Shu came from an ordinary background—his father had merely been a constable in Jiangnan, barely touching the fringes of the system—but he was naturally brilliant, able to compose essays as a child, and had long been known as a child prodigy.

In comparison, Fan Zhongyan actually had the best background. His father, Fan Yong, had served as an official in Wuyue in his early years, and after entering the Han, had once risen to Prefectural Administrator of Huzhou. Unfortunately, Fan Yong's life was short; when he died, Fan Zhongyan was only four years old—another classic case of early orphanhood and poverty giving rise to great ambition.

Because Fan Yong had been an incorruptible official, he had left no savings for Fan Zhongyan and his mother and brother. His mother, née Xie, struggled to raise them and nearly remarried. It happened that Taizong had just ascended the throne and was reforming officialdom. He occasionally heard that someone, serving in a wealthy prefecture in Jiangnan, had lived in such poverty that he left behind a widow and orphans struggling to get by. After learning of the situation, Taizong was deeply moved and ordered the Suzhou government to provide funds to support the mother and children.

Thus, Fan Zhongyan was able to obtain a relatively stable environment for growth. It was not a life of wealth, but with the government's annual relief arriving on time, plus his mother's diligence, at least food and clothing were guaranteed.

While witnessing the hardships of making a living, Fan Zhongyan and his elder brother Fan Zhongwen also studied diligently. At eighteen, Fan Zhongyan passed the entrance examination for Loujiang Academy. After three years of study, he gave up the recommendation to serve as an official in Suzhou and instead chose to travel north to study at Suiyang Academy. After years of hard study by the cold window, he mastered the essential meanings of the classics and fully formed his ideal of "benefiting the world."

Later, he returned to Wu County, smoothly passed the qualification examination for tribute students, and obtained the qualification for the great examination in the capital. Finally, in the second year of Duangong, he passed in one go and became the tanhua. At the same time, his elder brother Fan Zhongwen also placed ninth in the law subject in this same session.

And the top three jinshi were also the youngest average age in decades—Cai Qi was 28, Yan Shu 25, and Fan Zhongyan 27—truly sweeping away the "stale air" that had hung over the imperial examinations for many years.

Behind this, without a doubt, was Emperor Liu Wenji himself. Chen Yaozuo and those others did not have such boldness and courage. This was also a fresh stream that Liu Wenji had injected into the current Great Han court.

And the results of this examination inevitably provoked dissatisfaction from some people—not only the traditional bureaucrats who had attacked "specialized subject selection" for decades, but also those who valued family background, seniority, and "ability" more highly.

One person's opinion rather surprised Liu Wenji—that was Minister of Personnel Kou Zhun, who said a strange thing: "The empire's elite—the top three—two of them come from the southeast. Are there no men of talent in the north?"

Cai Qi, Yan Shu, and Fan Zhongyan were not, like ordinary scholars, arranged to rotate through the various ministries and bureaus of the court for observation and training, nor were they assigned to the Three Institutes or the Hanlin Academy to compile books, write essays, and temper their characters. Instead, they were summoned by the Emperor to his side to serve as companions in the inner court.

Such treatment was naturally a great fortune for the three. And from this close vantage point, they bore witness to the arrival of a brand-new era—an era of the empire led by Emperor Liu Wenji.