Chapter 2157: Shizong Chronicles 25: The New Vassal Treaty

Born in the summer of the third year of Jianlong, the new vassal system treaty law signed at Chongyuan Hall between the central authority represented by Emperor Liu Wenji and the various great and minor feudal kings contained several core provisions that were groundbreaking compared to the past.

For example, the imperial central court relinquished interference in the internal affairs of the feudal states, retaining only its voice in diplomacy, military affairs, and clan law, while the court would also further withdraw its garrisons from the South Seas.

For example, the central government would completely cease gratuitous aid and support to the various states, replaced instead by the requirement that each state, in accordance with clan law, present annual tribute to the central court, which would then reciprocate as circumstances warranted.

This was, of course, only a formal change, but sometimes formalism precisely reflects order and reality. Vassal states, vassal states—naturally they should return to their original appearance.

For example, expanding the opening of trading ports to the various states, permitting merchants of the various states to trade in all imperial cities reachable by water or land except the two capitals, permitting the official governments of the various states to establish trading houses in the two capitals, lowering import and export tariffs on goods, and abolishing the declaration tax on merchant ships of the feudal states—while correspondingly, the various states would also permit Han merchants to travel and trade freely within their territories.

Although the Great Han's foreign trade was developing with great vigor, the old set of trade rules contained serious trade discrimination, directed not only at other civilized nations but also at ordinary merchants subordinate to the various feudal states.

For a long time, those who could truly trade unimpeded between the Empire and the feudal states were either the official governments of the various states or the powerful and privileged who wielded sufficient influence on both sides. People of other classes and statuses could do so too, but only by accepting certain restrictions and exploitation, including restrictions on trading locations, trading scope, and taxation.

In the Great Han's customs administration regulations, there was a provision that all incoming foreign merchant ships must first pay a certain "declaration tax" based on the size of the vessel before they could enter ports and trading harbors, after which there were also berthing, commodity, transaction, and other operational taxes...

For large and small maritime merchants both domestic and foreign, during the era of the Maritime Trade Commission, the court was a bloodsucker, and after the customs system reform, it still was—only the intensity of the bloodsucking had been somewhat reduced. Over the past twenty-plus years, the reason more and more Western merchant ships chose to trade in the South Seas, besides religious and civilizational conflicts, was also related to the complex business environment in the imperial homeland.

After this grand assembly, the court had greatly relaxed restrictions on foreign trade, and the various rules and regulations had become somewhat more reasonable—and these were precisely the most fundamental needs of the South Seas states.

This was also determined by the geographical circumstances of each state. After decades of maritime trade development, for the South Seas feudal states, especially the island nations, a kind of social consciousness seemed to have awakened: no commerce, no trade—death rather than the alternative!

At the same time, for the local native powers, the Han were ultimately outsiders, invaders who used the few to dominate the many, and they too had to maintain and strengthen their connections with the imperial homeland—this was a matter touching the very foundations of survival.

The court having become generous and reasonable in this regard, lifting numerous restrictions, naturally won the welcome and support of the South Seas states. On this basis, making corresponding compromises in other areas was only natural.

But compared to the South Seas states, which could be bought with mere commercial interests, the land-based feudal states of the north were not so easily pacified. There was a fundamental difference between the northern and southern feudal states in their demands regarding national interests.

A mere set of profit-yielding new land trade regulations was not enough to satisfy the northern feudal states. They were still more accustomed to the court's support, or rather, more accustomed to sucking blood from the Empire. As for the set of measures proposed by Liu Wenji's court, in the eyes of certain feudal kings, it was simply what they deserved.

Therefore, when dealing with the northern feudal states, Liu Wenji's attitude and methods were correspondingly adjusted. Unconditional compromise and buying-off would not do; a firm attitude was also necessary.

The current authority of the central government and the strength of the court were not something the various states could contend with, even if some states' wings looked rather hardened. But even if the Empire might not find it easy to accomplish things, ruining them was a trivial matter. The central government, after all, held the great righteousness and legal principles, and these influences were not something the great and minor feudal states hatched by the Empire could easily shake off.

Of course, if Liu Wenji's imperial uncles were still in power, he would need to be more cautious and careful, not daring to take big strides. But the older generation of imperial uncles and feudal kings were, after all, a thing of the past. When facing his own generation, even Andong King Liu Wenyuan could not form a deterrent against Liu Wenji.

As for the two kings of Anxi and Kangju, both had recently succeeded to their thrones and both faced various challenges of newly donning the crown. Especially Anxi King Liu Wenze—with the Ghaznavid dynasty invading from without and the "Two Marquises" challenging him from within—he was in the greatest need of court support and would hardly dare truly oppose the court.

As for Beiting King Liu Wengong, as the actual founder of his feudal state, his insight and vision were not lacking, and in the national development strategy he had formulated for Beiting, maintaining the imperial relationship and strengthening vassal-clan exchanges were core elements.

For him, a steady and continuous flow was the true Way, and the vassal-clan relationship reform carried out by Liu Wenji was precisely a healthy, long-lasting broad road. Compared to endless bickering and conflict, living with clear accounts was far more comfortable and composed.

At the same time, the court also held another soft spot of the three Central Asian states: the Han population they urgently needed. The outflow of Han population obviously could not be completely free and arbitrary. Once the court tightened this opening, the development momentum of those three states would immediately slow down, even stagnate or regress.

The Han population was a core issue concerning the very foundations of the three states' rule, and on this matter they dared not be negligent. At least for now, with the central authority strong and wielding the "population weapon" that had profound and significant influence over them, they fundamentally dared not rebel. After all, their circumstances differed, and the enemies and situations they faced were different too.

In comparison, only Andong was impervious to both persuasion and pressure. Liu Wenji's relationship management, vassal-clan regulations, and interest-buying held little appeal for Andong.

The Andong system was already mature and complete, and had long formed a set of operational mechanisms suited to its development. No matter how the court changed, there was little that Andong could change, especially under the rule of Andong King Liu Wenyuan.

Therefore, toward Liu Wenji's series of opinions and measures, Liu Wenyuan was the coldest, having found nothing to agree with from beginning to end. But once all the other kings had been won over one by one by Liu Wenji, the opinion of Andong, nominally the leader of the various states, was no longer so important.

Speaking of it, among the great and minor feudal states, unlike others that maintained frequent exchanges and mutual support with other nations, Andong was somewhat of a loner, its relations with the other states not close at all. Not to mention the Central Asian and South Seas states—even with its neighbor Raole, relations were not good. There were frequent conflicts along the border, and Andong's military, merchants, and civilians often invaded. The root cause lay in the fact that when Emperor Shizu originally enfeoffed the states, he had given that portion of Andong's mature farmland in the Na River Plain to Raole.

Among the core legal provisions was also the stipulation that feudal state subjects, both at home and abroad, must obey imperial law while in Han territory; any violation or transgression would be dealt with according to Han law. This was one of the earliest "legal provisions," but Liu Wenji repeatedly emphasized it, targeting Andong specifically, because it was Andong's merchants and civilians who were the most unruly and most prone to infringing upon the interests of imperial officials and citizens.

Additionally, it was reiterated that vassal states must not arbitrarily attack one another; if there were irreconcilable contradictions, they must submit a memorial to the central government for adjudication. Those who rashly initiated military action would be jointly struck down by the Empire and all the great and minor feudal states.

This provision was clearly another preventive shot aimed at the matter of Kangju's destruction of Khotan. However, how long the prevention would last would depend on how circumstances evolved, for after all, all treaty laws were ultimately built upon power and strength.

Once the central authority was gone... Of course, raising such a possibility was itself rather meaningless. This "new law" was formulated against the backdrop of the Empire's period of strength, and that was the very foundation that allowed it to be promoted and implemented.

But regardless, after a not-so-harmonious process, the imperial central government and the feudal states formally concluded this brand-new "Imperial Vassal-Clan Treaty," establishing an entirely new pattern in Central and East Asia. For the entire world, facing the further loosened restrictions and greater autonomy of the northern and southern feudal states, they too would usher in freer, deeper exploration and conquest.

As for how long this set of rules and the world order formed around it could last, it was difficult to make a definitive judgment, but it was certainly not something that could be overturned in a short time. After all, it was sworn jointly by the central emperor and all the kings, and anyone who broke the oath would find it hard to withstand the backlash of the entire Empire's will.

At the same time, it would inevitably change along with the rise and fall of the central Empire, until the next wave of history came surging in and it could no longer withstand the impact and maintain itself. But before that, its influence on the history of the entire world had already become an established fact—and that was enough.

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Of course, it was impossible for the results of this grand assembly to satisfy everyone. There were always those who felt they had lost, been shortchanged, or even suppressed. For example, Andong King Liu Wenyuan, his face dark and somber, said not a word, but anyone could feel the dissatisfaction and unwillingness within him.

Then there was Jiujiang King Liu 【?】, the fifteenth son of Emperor Shizu born to Consort Fu. Just as in the past, like a spoiled child, he went to find his imperial nephew the Emperor and said with a wronged expression that his feudal state was all barren land, belonging to barbarians, with hardly any produce to speak of—he, the king, had never even seen what it looked like—and truly could not fulfill the agreement to present tribute to the court. He hoped the court could grant an extension of time, and once his feudal state developed like those of his other brothers, he would then present tribute...

To be honest, the gap between the feudal states of the Great Han Empire was indeed very large. Some had already conquered countless territories and commanded armies of a hundred thousand, while others still remained at the level of nominal rule.

Take Jiujiang King Liu 【?】, for example—his feudal state was located on the Philippine islands, where conditions were far better than Liu Yao's feudal state on Mindanao. But in the more than twenty years since Taizong's enfeoffment, Liu 【?】 had never managed it properly. Apart from sending some household retainers and attendants there, he had done nothing else.

After all, clearing wilderness was no easy task—arduous and prone to casualties. Even to this day, the order of Liu 【?】's so-called feudal state was maintained with the help of the neighboring Beilu Kingdom, and it remained at an extremely low level.

By rights, as the son of Consort Fu, with the backing of the Fu clan in the state and the support of his full brother Liu Shu abroad, his life should have been quite comfortable. And indeed it was—except that his energy was not directed toward managing his feudal state.

In the landscape of the Empire's foreign trade enterprise, the Jiujiang princely establishment did have a place. The maritime merchant fleet led by the princely establishment, relying on its formidable background and connections, roamed the rivers, seas, and oceans, shuttling between the Great Han and the South Seas states. Over nearly thirty years, it had earned considerable wealth.

With Liu 【?】's accumulated resources, plus his experience in maritime dealings, the start-up capital for establishing a state should have been more than sufficient. Consider that the raw and barbaric Mindanao, under the remote command of Xuchang King Liu Yao—though it had not yet formed a proper state—had still opened several settlement and trading points, built a "main city-town," established basic administrative order, and successfully spread the radiance of Great Han civilization.

But the wealth Liu 【?】 had accumulated was either stored away in the manner of a miser fulfilling his nature, or spent on the luxurious indulgence of the Jiujiang princely establishment. Clearly, Liu 【?】 had little awareness and did not understand that the management of a state was far more precious than the management of money.

Of Emperor Shizu's sixteen sons, Liu 【?】 was probably the most useless prince. Not to mention the other dragons and tigers of talent—even Liu Hui and Liu Shu were far superior to him. In his early years, it could be blamed on Consort Fu's doting, but the consort had passed away many years ago, and everything after that was Liu 【?】's own doing...

Facing this imperial uncle Liu 【?】 and seeing his bitter, pitiful expression, Liu Wenji felt an impulse to whip him a few times. The oath had barely been sworn, and here he was pulling this stunt. Had he not known Liu 【?】's greed and stinginess well, he would have suspected his intentions—whether he was deliberately opposing him.

Liu 【?】's intention naturally could not be realized. With that merchant fleet of his, he had no qualification to cry poverty before the Emperor, and Liu Wenji would not allow such a nonsensical reason to undermine the new vassal-clan law that needed careful maintenance.

The one most capable of challenging Liu Wenji was Chu King Liu Shu, and afterward, the one who appeared most composed and serene was still him. Apart from having the meeting results and the new law agreements sent back to Linyi in official document form, so that the heir Liu Wenyan and Linyi's powerful elites could adjust their policies accordingly, Liu Shu made no further moves or remarks.

When Andong King Liu Wenyuan sent someone to invite him to a banquet, Liu Shu refused outright—not only refused, but also mocked the messenger. At the same time, Liu Shu told those around him that Liu Wenyuan's ambition was known to all, and if he did not learn to restrain himself, disaster would eventually befall him.

Clearly, Liu Shu had been outrageous for decades, and even Emperor Shizu had found his temperament difficult to change. But he had always been a clever man, and on critical issues, he had always seen clearly. All his absurdity was merely his unwillingness to suppress his own nature.

Among all the feudal kings, Liu Shu was also the most carefree. He had enjoyed wealth and honor his entire life, and the realm of his feudal state was managed by the heir Liu Wenyan and household retainers and generals like Liu Gong. In comparison, Qi King Liu Yun, who had always professed a desire to live a carefree life, had never truly been carefree until his death in North Jinzhou. Among Shizu's sons, the one who lived most clearly and easily was, without question, Chu King Liu Shu.

Upon learning of Liu Shu's refusal of Liu Wenyuan's banquet and that private conversation, Liu Wenji had to admit that for the first time, he had changed his view of this imperial uncle who had repeatedly caused him trouble during the assembly. Some people and matters truly could not be judged merely by surface appearances at a single moment.

As for Andong King Liu Wenyuan, after Liu Shu's refusal, he decisively halted the banquet preparations and departed the capital the very next day. He did not personally take leave of Liu Wenji, only having his attendant ministers submit a memorial of apology.

While Liu Wenyuan displayed his arrogance and rudeness and his inner dissatisfaction, he was in fact also deeply disappointed. Counting from the time when his father, Qin King Liu Xu, was still alive, he could no longer recall how many times he had left the imperial capital with his head hung low, but never once had he felt as utterly defeated as this time.

The crux was that even Liu Wenji—this emperor whose "succession was not legitimate"—could hold him firmly in check. What future was left for him and Andong? Thirty years ago, Liu Wenyuan had been young and full of vigor, with plenty of time to wait, accumulate, and build. But now, he was a man who knew his fate, an old man heading toward sixty.

Whether it was grand ambition or burning desire, Liu Wenyuan, entering his twilight years, felt fear for the first time—fear that he would never be free in this life, and would pass away in obscurity and frustration...