Chapter 747: Spring Night

Under the spring night sky, the moonlight was pale, the starlight dim, and a hint of chill hung in the air. Within the Cangzhou prefectural office, a faint mist seemed to linger, the entire compound immersed in stillness. The Inner Palace soldiers charged with night watch had arranged rigorous defenses throughout the various courtyards—posts, patrols, and rotating shifts, all extremely tight.

Liu Chengyou strolled through the rear offices, gazing at the somewhat desolate moonlight, yet his mood was exceptionally calm. Traveling north along this route, what he had seen and heard was enough to fill him with delight—nearly a decade of governance and pacification had finally borne fruit.

The chaos at the end of the Jin dynasty—the ravages of war, the displacement, the banditry and rebellion—he had witnessed and endured with his own eyes. Better to be a peaceful dog than a man adrift in troubled times. The people of Hebei today, though their lives could hardly be called prosperous, could at least be called stable.

No enemy invasion from without, no mountain bandits harrying from within. Though corvée labor and military service remained burdensome on top of the two taxes, and lean years still meant hunger, compared to the days of turmoil and uncertainty, of living from dawn to dusk without knowing what tomorrow held, this was far happier.

And all of this—he could say it without blushing—had been achieved under his leadership as Emperor of the Great Han. Though, in essence, Liu Chengyou's actions since taking the throne had been aimed more at securing his position, strengthening imperial authority, and centralizing power, it was nonetheless an indisputable fact that the people under the Great Han's rule had gained real benefit and stability from it.

Of course, as time passed, the common folk would gradually grow accustomed to peace, forget the wounds of war and chaos, and—long at ease, forgetting war—would no longer tolerate prolonged poverty. They would find the taxes and conscription too heavy, and want to eat their fill and dress warmly. But that would be a matter for another stage of the Great Han's development; at that time, the court would have to adjust its policies again.

Looking at the places he had recently passed through, the burden on the common people was still very heavy. The "two-tax law" inherited from the Tang dynasty was fraught with problems. The reorganization of household registrations and farmland into ledgers had shown some results, but distinguishing between rich and poor in terms of property was no easy matter—and achieving a graded burden based on wealth was nothing short of wishful thinking.

Of course, with the court's continuous consolidation of local administrative authority, the central government's prestige was growing, governance was clean, and the rebuilding and strengthening of the supervisory system meant that local officials dared not arbitrarily impose extra levies or invent new pretexts for taxation beyond the regular taxes.

But the defects of the two-tax law still objectively existed. And the most direct impression Liu Chengyou gained from coming north was that money was dear while goods were cheap. The coinage in circulation remained insufficient, and in order to pay their taxes in cash, many commoners were forced to sell their silk and grain at a loss. The value of silk cloth was fluctuating as well, and on top of that there were the hidden dangers of land annexation—many of the ills that had already surfaced in the mid-to-late Tang remained difficult to resolve.

This was both a limitation of the level of economic development and a defect of monetary policy. As for the court's tax system, it was not sufficiently refined either—from top to bottom, there were many problems. And carrying out a comprehensive reform and innovation was no easy matter: first, there was a lack of talent capable of presiding over a nationwide fiscal reform; second, there was a lack of foundation; and moreover, too drastic an action could easily provoke instability and disorder. For Liu Chengyou, who was currently devoted to unifying the realm, what he disliked most was instability.

The more he thought, the more muddled his mind became. He couldn't help but vigorously shake his head, as if that could clear away the tangled thoughts in his brain.

He swept his gaze across the rear garden of the prefectural office—an entirely bleak scene. Flickering lamplight illuminated the Inner Palace guards standing at attention nearby, each with an upright bearing and a burly physique, looking all the more resolute under the dim glow.

As Liu Chengyou walked past, they all lowered their heads and gripped their blades in salute. He stopped before a young guard, then suddenly crouched down, startling the guard, who instinctively made to move—only to hear Liu Chengyou's calm voice: "Don't move!"

"Yes!" the guard answered, only then realizing that Liu Chengyou had crouched down to tie his loose shoelace for him.

"Don't underestimate this cord. Without it, walking is uncomfortable—you might lose your shoe, you might trip. One careless step and it's a fall. If you're on the march, you can't run fast..." Rising, Liu Chengyou said with a light laugh: "It's been a long time since I tied anyone's shoelaces. Is the tightness all right?"

Facing the Emperor's gentle words, the guard's expression was somewhat complicated—both excited and moved, with a hint of being at a loss. After holding it in for a moment, he said: "Thank you, Your Majesty!"

Looking at the guard—very young, no fuzz on his lips, but with a fairly tall stature—Liu Chengyou hesitated for a moment, then said: "I remember you. You're called Li, Li..."

"Reporting to Your Majesty, this humble one is Li Shoujie!" the guard hurriedly spoke up, rescuing the Emperor from his embarrassment.

"Right! Li Yun's son!" Liu Chengyou assumed an expression of sudden realization, and laughed: "There truly is a bit of your father's heroic bearing between your brows! You should be not yet twenty by now, right?"

"Your subject is eighteen!" Li Shoujie replied.

"At this age, to be selected into the palace and serve before the Emperor—that's no easy feat!" Liu Chengyou said, sizing up Li Shoujie.

"It is all thanks to Your Majesty's promotion, granting your subject the opportunity to serve as a guard on duty!" Li Shoujie said, puffing out his chest.

"When the court took Jinghu, your father rendered distinguished service in battle. Now he is in Hunan suppressing and pacifying the barbarian bandits on the court's behalf—quelling violence, putting down rebellion, protecting the people and securing the border. He is truly a stalwart of the court!" Liu Chengyou patted his shoulder and encouraged him: "You should take your father as your model!"

"Your subject will surely keep Your Majesty's teachings in mind!"

"The one in charge of the night watch tonight is Zhang Qiong, isn't it?" Liu Chengyou suddenly asked.

"Yes!"

Liu Chengyou instructed: "Go and summon him!"

Watching Li Shoujie's retreating figure as he hurried off, a satisfied smile tugged at the corner of Liu Chengyou's mouth. Among the guards serving as his personal protectors from the Inner Palace forces, there were quite a few like Li Shoujie—sons of generals and officials. Of course, the selection standards had never been lowered.

Eighteen—an age that filled one with nostalgia and memories. Think of him, Liu Chengyou: at eighteen, he had just ascended the throne as Emperor, taking over a country...

Liu Chengyou then suddenly recalled that in his early years, he could call out the names of all the guards on duty before the throne, whether officers or soldiers.

Now he could no longer do so—let alone names, there were some whose faces he could no longer even remember. From the small he saw the large. Liu Chengyou murmured: "Without my noticing, I really have changed. I just wonder whether this change is for good or for ill..."

Before long, a burly, rough-featured military officer walked over, saluted Liu Chengyou, and said in a full, vigorous voice: "Your subject pays respects to Your Majesty. May I ask what business Your Majesty has summoned me for?"

This officer was named Zhang Qiong—a standard Hebei man, bold by nature, brave and strong, skilled in archery. In his youth, he had led the local ruffians of his hometown to fight the Khitan. After the Great Han was established, he enlisted in the army.

Later he was selected into the imperial army and had participated in the pacification of Hezhong and two campaigns resisting the Later Shu. He fought with great ferocity—in the words of Wang Jun and Zhao Hui, he was a reckless brute who didn't know the meaning of death, throwing himself into battle without regard for his life.

In the sixth year of Qianyou, he was transferred to the capital. Few in the army could match this man's valor. Later, Zhao Kuangyin thought highly of him and recommended him to Liu Chengyou. For his loyalty and bravery, and his outstanding performance in every military review, he gradually caught Liu Chengyou's eye, was transferred into the Inner Palace forces, and had been standing guard within the imperial palace for over two years now.

"Nothing much—just bored at leisure, checking on the bivouac arrangements!" Liu Chengyou said.

Zhang Qiong understood at once and promptly replied: "For the guards who entered the city: at the south and north gates, one hundred men each; at the various intersections along the streets, one hundred men, with yamen runners and prefectural soldiers assisting; within the prefectural office, two hundred men divided into three shifts, holding the central gate, the main hall, and the rear garden!"

"And the office's clerks, subordinate officials, and attendants?" Liu Chengyou asked.

"Those who could go home were sent home; the rest were all herded by me into the western annex and placed under watch!" Zhang Qiong said carelessly.

Hearing this, Liu Chengyou couldn't help but say: "You—your style is still this crude and blunt!"

Zhang Qiong said: "Those people may be part of the yamen, but you never know if some harbor treacherous intentions. I couldn't be bothered to sort them out, so I simply put them all under watch, to avoid any threat to Your Majesty, the ladies, and the princes' safety!"

"No wonder I saw Chu Zhaofu's expression looking a bit sour earlier—so that's where the problem lay..." Liu Chengyou said.

"That Prefect Chu—does he dare lodge a complaint against me?" Zhang Qiong bristled.

"He said nothing at all. You rogue, don't go making wild speculations!" Liu Chengyou shot him a glare.

Only then did Zhang Qiong's expression ease. He cast a sidelong glance at Liu Chengyou, hesitated briefly, then cupped his hands and said: "Your Majesty..."

"Say whatever you have to say plainly. Hemming and hawing isn't your style, Zhang Qiong!"

"Then I'll speak plainly!" Zhang Qiong grinned and said: "This business of arranging the night watch is too tedious, and not a single mistake can be allowed—it truly doesn't suit me. I humbly beg Your Majesty to show favor and let me go out to fight in battle!"

Hearing this, Liu Chengyou's brows immediately shot up: "Oh? Is serving as your Emperor's guard general a grievance to you, or are you simply unwilling, and thus want to be posted out?"