Chapter 2193: Taizong Chronicles 2: The Sixth Year of Zhengtong

In the spring of the sixth year of Zhengtong (1047), Xiangzhou, Jingxi Circuit.

The sun shone brightly, the spring breeze brought warmth, and on the Han River, a hundred boats vied in the current. Among the vessels large and small traveling north and south, one official boat heading north drew particular attention—numerous colorful banners fluttered in the wind, including one bearing the flamboyant characters "Fan," marking this as the northbound fleet of Fan Zhongyan, Imperial Inspector of the Jinghu North Circuit.

On the deck, Lord Fan, now nearly sixty, stood leaning against the railing, his graying beard and hair stirring in the river breeze, constantly brushing against his weathered, aging face. On the Han River, boats came and went; along the banks, villages and towns were densely populated. All of this showed that the great Han Empire remained prosperous and full of vitality.

At least, on the surface, that was so. But as a member of the empire's upper nobility, having traveled between the central court and the provinces numerous times, Fan Zhongyan keenly and with deep foresight recognized that the empire's current prosperity was different from the past—it was built upon ever more severe and cruel exploitation and oppression of the hundreds of millions of common people.

During the reigns of Shizu, Taizong, and Shizong, even if there were occasional setbacks, the restraint imposed on the empire's nobles was on the whole powerful and effective. This was the fundamental reason the empire could maintain a prosperous and flourishing state for so long.

However, since those three emperors successively left the stage of history, and as Emperor Zhengtong, Liu Weizhen, ascended the throne, this self-restraint consciousness of the ruling class, which had persisted for decades, was gradually fading.

Although the empire's rule remained stable, and the administrative system refined by successive emperors continued to operate in an orderly fashion, one could not ignore that the chronic ills and problems that had repeatedly appeared over the past thousand years of dynastic history—even within the hundred years since the Great Han's founding—were once again sprouting.

History is a cycle; the alternation of order and chaos is its hallmark. When the empire's ruling class gradually relaxed its self-restraint, and when the rulers' greedy demands, amplified layer by layer from top to bottom, fell upon the empire's countless common subjects, a new round of ruling pressure and contradiction was bound to arise.

Under such circumstances, the great Han Empire could still maintain a strong and civilized state, with all levels still immersed in an age of peace and prosperity. A very important reason lay in the rich legacy left by the ancestors, as well as the fact that the empire's subjects could still bear the current degree of exploitation.

The great Han Empire of the Zhengtong era was indeed still advancing in the afterglow of the Jianlong golden age, but there was no doubt that this afterglow could not protect the empire forever. The downhill slope after the peak was inevitable.

The key lay in how to descend that slope. There were those who wanted to advance steadily and descend slowly; there were those who drifted along, content with whatever came, following the natural course; and there were those unwilling to slide down, intent on preserving the great Han Empire's peak achievements—such as Lord Fan Xiwen, who was a representative figure.

Since entering officialdom in the second year of Duangong, thirty-one years had passed in the blink of an eye. Fan Zhongyan had transformed from a young, ambitious, and spirited talent into a loyal minister and good chancellor with a head full of white hair and a reputation known throughout the realm.

Fan Zhongyan's reputation in the current great Han Empire was excellent, especially among the commoner-official class, where he was regarded as a leader. Even the northern literati, who had always looked down on southerners and often viewed things through tinted glasses, had never disparaged his administrative abilities or his loyalty.

Roughly half of that head of white hair had grown from worrying about the state and the people. By the Zhengtong era, if one were to choose a Chief Chancellor from among the commoner officials, for many people, the first name that leapt to mind would likely be Fan Zhongyan.

To possess such enormous prestige, personal talent and ability alone were clearly insufficient. Behind Fan Zhongyan stood a large group of supporters: the Duangong jinshi, the Jianlong cabinet, the southern ministers, the Suiyang and Loujiang schools of thought, the administrative-reform faction, plus the halo of being a key minister of Emperor Shizong—together these forged a "foremost minister of the age."

However, while many supported and championed him, just as many despised and marginalized him. Therefore, Fan Zhongyan's path to the chief chancellorship was destined to be difficult, especially after Emperor Shizong, his most important patron, had departed.

In thirty years of official life, he had lost count of how many times he had returned to the capital from the provinces, but never before had he felt so hesitant, anxious, and torn as he did this time.

Of course, with Lord Fan's breadth of mind and bearing, he was not anxious over personal gain or loss. What weighed on his heart was the state, the realm, the sovereign, and the altars of

state. And this return to the capital, he was destined to stir up a great wave in the empire's political arena, to seize the twilight of his life and, for the empire, for the sovereign, for the common people, once more offer his loyalty and make one final effort.

In fact, as early as the fourth year of Zhengtong, Fan Zhongyan had been recalled to court for his achievements in pacifying the western frontier, leaving behind the Longyou Circuit where he had labored for seven years, and bequeathing a situation of military and political stability with all the barbarian tribes submitting.

That time, Fan Zhongyan had likewise been full of ambition and high spirits, entering the capital intent on accomplishing great deeds. In his heart, in his eyes, although the great Han Empire was glorious and great, it also harbored many problems and contradictions that needed capable men to take responsibility and resolve them. And at Fan Zhongyan's level of status and prestige, he naturally possessed an air of "who else but me" and "I cannot decline."

That time was also the first time Fan Zhongyan became a chancellor. Upon returning to court, he was appointed Director of State Affairs and concurrently Finance Commissioner. Fan Zhongyan was no stranger to the empire's financial system—he had encountered it as early as when he served as a cabinet academician beside Emperor Shizong, and later rose to become Salt and Iron Commissioner.

Fan Zhongyan, who had once presided over the Huai East Salt Dike project and the great reform of the national salt administration, could not remain idle upon returning to the Finance Bureau. He carried out bold reforms and rectifications with a heavy hand, particularly in talent promotion, annual assessments, and the review of fund allocations, making considerable corrections and adjustments. The corruption, theft, bribery, and smuggling that had resurfaced in the salt administration suffered another major blow.

While offending a large group of vested interests, the empire's financial system also underwent great improvement, and administrative efficiency increased substantially. Unfortunately, Fan Zhongyan served as Finance Commissioner for only half a year—his rectification and reform lasted only four months—before he was dismissed from the chancellorship.

Of course, those who brought down Fan Zhongyan were not only the nobles, bureaucrats, and landlord-officials whose interests had been harmed. The fundamental reason was that this touched off a new round of struggle between the noble class and the commoner class.

In the early Zhengtong era, the empire's political landscape, while on the whole maintaining rationality and stability, was actually quite fiercely contested at the upper levels due to Emperor Liu Weizhen's shallow virtue, weak ability, and insufficient prestige—especially after the meritorious noble class, which had been suppressed for over a decade under Shizong, launched its counterattack.

First, Du Yan, the Director of State Affairs in Shizong's later years, was dismissed from the chancellorship in the second year of Zhengtong and sent out of the capital to serve as Imperial Inspector in the southwest. His successor was Li Zhaoxian, County Duke of Leping (who was, notably, the eldest son of Li Jilong and a grandson of Emperor Shizu through the maternal line).

At that time, in the Hall of State Affairs, besides Li Zhaoxian as Director of State Affairs, there were also Commissioner of Military Affairs Zhe Weichang, Minister of War Xiang Yuankai (grandson of Xiang Deming), and Minister of Rites Feng Duan (great-grandson of Feng Dao), supplemented by Shi Yuansun (grandson of Shi Shouxin) and Li Guangfu (great-grandson of Li Yun), all powerful military and political ministers.

These were all descendants of meritorious founding ministers. Except for Feng Duan and Li Guangfu, who were somewhat weaker, the others were the empire's top-tier nobles. Li Zhaoxian and Zhe Weichang even carried the additional halo of being imperial relatives.

When such men held a large share of voice in the imperial court, it signified a great counterattack by the noble faction, which inevitably invited confrontation from the commoner-official bloc that had long since grown strong and deeply entrenched.

It was against this backdrop that Fan Zhongyan returned to the capital, plunging headfirst into the vortex of political struggle. Although his sole intention was to do practical things for the court and the people, some struggles were unavoidable.

At the same time, as the two most important chancellors subordinate to the Director of State Affairs—the Minister of Personnel and the Finance Commissioner—one was Lü Yijian and the other Fan Zhongyan, both of commoner origin. Flanking Li Zhaoxian on left and right, they formed a formidable pincer against him.

Thus, to break this constraint, Li Zhaoxian orchestrated a political attack from behind the scenes, and his chosen target was Fan Zhongyan. Lü Yijian was a man of deep cunning and superb political skill; otherwise, he could not have maneuvered his way back to the capital as chancellor so quickly after the new emperor's accession, and then advanced further to become Minister of Personnel.

By comparison, Fan Zhongyan was much easier to manipulate. Although his personal conduct was beyond reproach, in the eyes of those with ulterior motives, his methods were full of holes and easy to attack.

Such political maneuvering had nothing to do with whether Fan Zhongyan had actually committed any fault. It was simply that when those in power needed it, there was never a shortage of people willing to supply enough shortcomings and handles. Once a trend formed, the weak Emperor Liu Weizhen, even if reluctant, had no choice but to send Fan Zhongyan out of the capital—he simply could not withstand the pressure from Li Zhaoxian and the other nobles, or rather, he was unwilling to confront them head-on.

Thus, Fan Zhongyan was stripped of his chancellorship on charges of "offense against His Highness" (in the official interpretation, roughly that during an audience to remonstrate with the emperor, his words were too fierce and insulted His Majesty's dignity), and was appointed Imperial Inspector of Hubei. That year, Fan Zhongyan was fifty-six years old.

Now, Fan Zhongyan was fifty-eight. With temples fully white, he still labored over state affairs, still concerned for his sovereign, and once again a chance for restoration had come.

Two years later, the situation at court was vastly different. The greatest change was that Director of State Affairs Li Zhaoxian had died of illness. The court had lost another leader, and the struggles at the upper levels intensified once more. After a contest aimed at seizing the supreme chancellorship, the final choice surfaced: Fan Zhongyan.

Li Zhaoxian's death was so sudden that he could not even leave final instructions. Seizing this opening, the commoner-official bloc, long dormant at court, launched a comprehensive counterattack.

Moreover, they gained the support of a portion of the noble class, such as Feng Duan and Li Kaiyuan (nephew of Empress Li; by seniority, Emperor Liu Weizhen would have to call him "maternal uncle"), along with the quiet pushing of the Xiao clan.

From the Jianlong through the Zhengtong eras, there was a saying at court of the "Three Xiaos"—Xiao Jing, Xiao Gong, and Xiao Hui. These three men had status and seniority, but in noble circles they had always been silently looked down upon, for the same reason: their Khitan origins.

Therefore, when traditional nobles like Li Zhaoxian held court power, the Xiao clan also lay low, secretly seeking opportunities to overturn the order. Li Zhaoxian's sudden death was clearly the best such opportunity.

Of course, what truly played the decisive role was Emperor Liu Weizhen himself. For him, this was likewise a rare opportunity. Given Liu Weizhen's temperament and the education he had received since childhood, aside from imperial relatives and old ministers of the Eastern Palace, he clearly felt closer to those commoner bureaucrats.

On the other hand, he was indeed obedient. Before Emperor Shizong's death, he had given him much earnest instruction, pointing out a great number of candidates for official appointments. Among them, the one that left the deepest impression was: "If you wish to accomplish things, you may appoint Fan Zhongyan as chancellor."

Clearly, Emperor Liu Weizhen, now thirty-one years old and seven years into his reign, also wanted to achieve something. Thus, incorporating suggestions from multiple quarters and on the recommendation of many ministers, he finally issued an edict summoning Fan Zhongyan back to the capital.

Liu Weizhen also specially dispatched eunuchs from the Palace Domestic Service southward. Besides proclaiming the edict, they delivered a personal letter from Liu Weizhen, filled with words of favor, trust, and expectation—enough to move Fan Zhongyan to tears of gratitude.

And from the moment the edict was issued from the central government, at least for a short time, the struggles at the upper levels of the court ceased. Everyone's gaze turned involuntarily southward, watching the waterways and land routes.

The reason was simple: in the Zhengtong era, the Director of State Affairs wielded weight of authority that could be called the greatest in the empire.