Chapter 426: The Great Han of Today

The blazing sun hung overhead, wantonly releasing its heat, as if inexhaustible, baking the earth. The Eastern Capital seemed to have grown more restless because of the scorching midsummer weather. Kaifeng was the foremost city of the Central Plains, and living there was no easy matter—especially for the common folk, who, no matter how unfriendly the weather, had to endure the scorching heat and hustle about, busy making a living.

As the nation gradually stabilized and the court governed well, Kaifeng welcomed a period of great development, and the city grew increasingly prosperous. Among its people, as long as one was willing to work, one could basically find some means of livelihood. Of course, the only difference was the degree of toil involved.

With the lifting of the prohibition on alcohol, taverns within the Eastern Capital's markets had grown ever more numerous. However, for nearly a year now, the court had tightened restrictions once again—though not as severe as the strict ban of the early Qianyou years, it still limited the brewing of distiller's yeast. Among the common folk, there were no shortage of clever sorts who could guess the reason: the court's preparations for war were anything but quiet, and news of the Khitan's southward invasion had been circulating for a while.

At first, this had caused panic among the scholars and commoners of the Eastern Capital. Those currently living in the Eastern Capital, whether officials or commoners, noble or base, had mostly experienced that national calamity in the twelfth year of Tianfu when the Khitan destroyed the Jin.

However, this wave of panic only stirred up a brief ripple before quickly subsiding. First, the Khitan side had shown no movement for a long time, and even if there were movements, they didn't reach the ears of the common folk—at most, one might hear news of barbarian cavalry raids being beaten back by the Han army defending the borders. Second, the court issued decrees and the authorities took action to stabilize public sentiment. Third, people had generally gained some confidence in the current Northern Han court and didn't believe the Khitan could march into the Central Plains again.

By now, the Khitan's southward invasion had become mere hearsay—not only failing to stir up waves, but instead becoming fodder for idle conversation among the scholars and commoners of the Eastern Capital over tea and after meals.

Only, the court's policies remained as tight as ever. For the common folk, the most tangible experience was that the price of wine kept rising, and this had also given rise to many commoners engaged in handicraft work.

Many merchants also seized the opportunity, purchasing related supplies from the countryside and hauling them to the Eastern Capital or several garrison towns, where they could sell them off. Of course, corruption was inevitable in this—after all, when water is too clear, there are no fish—but when discovered or reported, offenders were dealt with severely. Otherwise, the current Great Han court couldn't manage things down to such fine detail...

However, within the Eastern Capital, teahouses were developing even faster than taverns. Especially during this scorching heat, whether it was yamen runners on duty, patrol soldiers, peddlers walking the streets, brokers, or even those with nothing to do, everyone liked to sit in a teahouse among the markets, drink a bowl of cold tea, chat about the news, and listen to interesting tales.

In the Eastern Capital's markets, beside one eatery, a large green cloth umbrella had been set up to provide shade, with several tables and stools placed beneath it. The eatery owner was clever—with this simple setup, at the right times, customers always filled the place. Bowl after bowl of cold tea was served, paired with street snacks, and the prices weren't expensive. For hungry, thirsty, and weary passersby, it was quite tempting, and it also boosted the eatery's popularity.

Just like at this moment—men of all kinds, old and young, crowded together, drinking heartily and chatting freely. In a slightly shadier spot off to the side, several peddlers sat on their carrying poles, each having ordered a bowl of tea, gulping it down with great satisfaction.

At the tea tables, a lively clamor of discussion filled the air.

"They keep saying the Khitan are going to attack the Great Han—it's been two months now, and still not a peep of movement..." A young, sturdy-looking man with his shirt off, a piece of pickled cucumber dangling from his mouth, shouted loudly as he chewed, his tone carrying an air of wishing the Khitan would hurry up and come south.

Hearing this, an elderly little old man nearby, whose eyes were squinted into slits, immediately chimed in: "You young fellow, you don't know the value of life! You have these peaceful days and don't cherish them—are you actually hoping for war?"

"The old gentleman speaks sense. Once the Khitan come, nobody gets to live well anymore. You young fellows these days, you're just not grounded!" A fruit vendor sitting at a table nearby chimed in after listening, quite displeased with the young man's remarks.

Then a whole crowd joined in to echo the criticism. Seeing that he'd stirred up everyone's ire, the man hastily explained: "I'm just anxious for my young lord! Who knows when the fighting will start up north—I want to go to Qizhou to trade in medicinal herbs, but I'm afraid of the war."

Saying this, he looked around the circle and grumbled: "I say, folks, even if war comes, can it reach the Eastern Capital? The court's troops are strong and horses are stout now—can't they hold the Khitan back in Hebei? What are you all afraid of here?"

Seeing his nonchalant attitude, someone immediately retorted: "Even if the fighting doesn't reach the Eastern Capital, if the war goes badly, the court will increase corvée labor, raise taxes, and levy grain..."

Seeing that this crowd was getting bolder and bolder with their talk, the teahouse owner hurriedly stepped in, cupping his hands with a smile: "Everyone, let's not discuss state affairs, let's not discuss state affairs!"

As he spoke, he also glanced twice at two city patrol soldiers slowly approaching from the distance. The crowd noticed, and immediately and tactfully changed the subject.

But someone took the opportunity to say: "I think this fellow who doesn't know his place—a trip to the Kaifeng prison would teach him to behave..."

The sweltering heat of the Eastern Capital seemed to be stirring up the restlessness within Emperor Liu of Han's heart—even several bowls of "iced snow pear soup" couldn't suppress it. For the past two months, Liu Chengyou had devoted himself entirely to matters of north and south, toiling diligently, rarely even visiting the harem.

In the hall, Liu Chengyou, dressed in a light thin robe, leaned sideways against the armrest of the imperial throne. Zhang Dejun was fanning him with a round silk fan—the motion wasn't great, but he carefully controlled the force and rhythm, and it had him sweating profusely.

Seeing his hard-pressed persistence, Liu Chengyou waved his hand, telling him to go rest, and arranged for someone to bring more ice from the icehouse.

"Now that we're in the height of summer, even we can hardly bear the heat—how much less the barbarian tribes?" Liu Chengyou said to Wei Renpu and Zheng Renhui, who were reporting before the hall: "The Khitan are even less likely to come south in the near future. I imagine we truly must wait until the autumn skies are high!"

"Your Majesty speaks truly!" Wei Renpu said: "According to news from the north, although the Khitan ruler has designs on invading the south, first, the timing is unfavorable, and second, the nobles of the various barbarian tribes have yet to be subdued by him. And from observing the common tribesmen of the Khitan, it's clear that the Khitan have also been fighting wars year after year—their people are weary and their soldiers exhausted. Whether nobles or ordinary herders, none have the will to fight, and none wish to invade south at such a time."

Hearing this, a rare trace of pride appeared on Liu Chengyou's face: "The Great Han of today is nothing like the Shi Jin—where one could follow the Khitan ruler on a little jaunt, take a turn around, and come away with benefits."

Deputy Commissioner of Military Affairs Zheng Renhui picked up the thread: "Even the former Jin, with its chaotic governance and exhausted people, inflicted considerable damage on the Khitan army led by Yelu Deguang—how much more so our dynasty? Since Your Majesty ascended the throne, you have never been weak toward outsiders. If they come south, our Han army will surely resist fiercely and inflict heavy casualties. The Khitan barbarians are human too—they know pain, they know fear. They already suffered a great loss in Hebei last time. Even if the Khitan ruler is determined to have his way, overcoming the difficulties and subduing the dissent will still take time!"

Hearing this, Liu Chengyou nodded, expressing approval of Zheng Renhui's words. After thinking for a moment, he said: "Our army's war preparations can be put on hold for now. We'll speak of it again come autumn!"

"Yes!"

Liu Chengyou knew it was time to cool things down. During this period, the court had been spending money like water—for the Great Han, whose reserves were far from ample, this was no small test. Xue Juzheng, the deputy commissioner actually in charge of the State Finance Commission, had remonstrated with Liu Chengyou several times already, deeply pained by the expenditure, and even Wang Zhang, who had retired to the second line, had stuck his head out.

Settling relocated households, forging weapons, transporting grain and fodder... the expenditures were enormous—even Liu Chengyou felt the sting.

"The Prince of Yan has again submitted a memorial, requesting support from the court..."