Chapter 795: Turmoil in Shu

Early autumn of the tenth year of Qianyou (957), Chengdu.

The hibiscus flowers densely planted throughout the city walls and beyond were already poised to bloom, ready to display their most beautiful bearing before the scholars and commoners of Chengdu and the travelers who came to visit. The great city of Chuanshu was once again about to welcome its season of blossoms and splendor.

Nearly three years had passed since the great Qinfeng campaign, but the impact of that defeat on the Later Shu had only deepened with the passage of time. The peace treaty bought with submission and tribute had left the people of Chuanshu increasingly exhausted.

The training and arming of the northern defense forces, the expenditure of military funds, and the raising of annual tribute had become a heavy burden pressing down on the Later Shu court. Add to this political corruption, turbulent court affairs, rampant extravagance, frequent disturbances, and enemy agents spreading rumors and stirring up trouble—describing the current Later Shu as declining day by day with the nation's fortunes swaying precariously was not an exaggeration in the least.

More than twenty years of peace, more than twenty years of accumulated wealth, had been drained away in years of repeated failure. The Later Shu court once again felt what it meant for the treasury to be empty.

Amid internal troubles and external threats, the Shu sovereign Meng Chang instead set down the burden on his heart and immersed himself all the more in pleasure. Going from frugality to extravagance is an easy thing. When those above set the example, those below follow—Meng Chang's sons and ministers also completely let themselves go, wantonly enjoying the privileges of aristocratic life, scrambling over one another without regard for anything, rapidly squandering the dynasty's fortune.

And to maintain rule and replenish the state treasury, all the burdens were ultimately shifted onto the ordinary people of Shu. Increased taxes, added levies, and widespread conscription of corvée labor made the people of Chuanshu suffer greatly—their resentment soared to the heavens, and curses filled the roads.

Building a positive and good image is no easy task, but destroying one is all too simple. It could be said that the image of diligence, frugality, and love for the people that Meng Chang had spent nearly twenty years establishing had completely collapsed in just these two or three years.

It was far more severe than in the original history. At least in the old history, when the Song destroyed the state and the entire household was moved north, many Shu people pitied him. But now, cursing was the least of it. Over these past few years, across the two rivers' regions, more than twenty popular uprisings had occurred one after another. Acts of resisting taxes and refusing levies happened repeatedly, and the Later Shu court's only response was to continuously dispatch troops and generals to annihilate and suppress.

Two northern advances and one northern defense had all ended in failure, and the adverse impact on the Later Shu court was incalculable. The Shu court was forced to impose urgent taxes and heavy levies to meet its immediate needs, and the consequence was a vicious cycle—the state of Shu's politics and popular sentiment grew ever more decayed.

Of course, besides the court itself, there were plenty of other forces pushing Shu into chaos. Northern Han spies feared nothing more than disorder, colluding with corrupt officials who looked the other way, while bureaucrats, landlords, and wealthy merchants plundered the people's property and wealth on a grand scale to fatten themselves...

But no matter how dark the court politics, no matter how chaotic the two rivers' regions, Chengdu remained as prosperous and bustling as ever. Yet this was an abnormal prosperity—anyone could feel the tense atmosphere hanging over the city, oppressive as dark clouds, casting shadows of gloom over people's hearts.

Ordinary people's lives grew harder by the day. Grain prices were rising, faces showed the pallor of malnutrition, public security was steadily deteriorating, conflicts in the wards and markets broke out frequently, and travelers passing through rarely wore smiles. Around Chengdu, refugees who had lost their land and gone bankrupt were increasing—constantly gathering, constantly being dispersed, seeing no hope anywhere.

"The price of rice has gone up again!" A lament rang out in front of a rice shop.

Before the shop, a queue of some twenty-odd people stood—all ordinary folk, some carrying sacks, some bearing baskets on their backs, craning their necks to look at the newly written wooden price board for rice, all letting out complaints.

Twenty-seven cash for a dou of rice!

Compared to past years, it had risen six or sevenfold; even compared to before the great Qinfeng campaign, it had doubled—and it showed signs of continuing to climb. And that price referred to copper cash; miscellaneous coins and iron coins were priced separately. If one had the "Qianyou tongbao" coins brought in from the north, they could get a somewhat better deal. Shu was short of copper, and after the Han-Shu peace agreement was signed, the fiscal pressure grew ever greater. The Later Shu court had minted a large batch of iron coins for circulation, and the result was a steadily collapsing economy—money cheap, goods dear.

Compared to the complaints of the people buying grain, the shop owner could not help but reveal a delighted smile. The world always maintains its balance—when some weep, others laugh. Those in the grain business would never worry about high grain prices. As for the suffering of the common folk and the livelihoods of the people, that was a problem for the court to consider, having nothing to do with him, a grain merchant.

"Everyone, line up properly, have your money ready, no pushing, no causing trouble!" Several sturdy men stood guard before the shop, maintaining order, glaring fiercely at the grain-buying crowd as if they were class enemies.

Most of those in line behaved obediently—some prepared their money as instructed, some made plans to buy cheaper grains instead of rice, and some calculated the cash they carried and left on their own. But the impact of rising grain prices was very direct: some left, but more people arrived with hemp sacks upon hearing the news. The scramble to buy grain gradually spread through the city...

"At this rate, the scholars and commoners of Chengdu won't even be able to fill their bellies!" Inside a wineshop, several young scholars sat drinking weak wine in melancholy. Upon hearing of the grain-buying frenzy in the city, one of them could not help but sigh.

These young scholars were students of the official academy. On ordinary days, they inevitably gathered friends, engaged in lofty discussions of state affairs, and freely debated the current situation. As Later Shu's politics gradually decayed, there was no shortage of men of insight who were deeply grieved and wished to call for reform—but often their efforts fell short of their aspirations.

"We can barely get enough to eat already!" Another spoke with even greater indignation: "Grain prices are exorbitant, refugees are multiplying, popular sentiment is seething—why does the court do nothing? The people can carry the boat, and the people can capsize it. Such a simple truth—do the lords at court not understand it?"

"Those profiteering merchants are jacking up grain prices—why doesn't the government step in? Shu is short of grain; the court should implement effective policies, crack down on the profiteers, ban the use of grain for brewing wine, open the granaries and release grain, and stabilize prices!" Another man drained the wine in his cup, slammed the cup hard onto the low table, and said angrily.

"Behind those profiteering merchants stand no small number of high officials at court—would they ever bother to act? And even if they wanted to, could they?" Upon hearing this, another man said with pent-up frustration: "As for the court's official grain reserves—they have to support the officials, support the army, fund the suppression of rebellions, and pay tribute to the Northern Han. How could they spare any thought for the common masses!"

"Only after the autumn harvest, when the autumn grain enters the granaries and the new grain reaches the capital, can things ease somewhat..."

"I hear there's another popular uprising in Zitong!"

"The rebellions in Ling and Rong prefectures still haven't been pacified! That Zhao Jiwen is utterly useless—he's let a bunch of Liao savages run rampant to this very day!" One man cursed: "Why doesn't the court replace its generals?"

Last winter, the Liao people of Shu's Ling and Rong prefectures had rebelled, with several thousand rebels attacking government offices and Shu civilians, causing a great uproar. The Shu court had dispatched Zhao Jiwen, Commissioner of the Archery Arsenal, to lead troops to suppress the rebellion. Though he won in battle, the remaining rebels refused to submit, leaving a lingering scourge to this day that consumed a great deal of the Later Shu's wealth and military strength. For the Later Shu, beset by internal troubles and external threats, it was like frost upon snow.

"Outside, the mighty Han watches with hungry eyes; inside, rebellions rise one after another—the nation's fortunes sway precariously! Alas..." No matter how much anger, in the end it could only dissolve into a helpless sigh.

"The Great Shu cannot continue like this, or it will sooner or later be swallowed by the Northern Han. We should go to the palace and petition Your Majesty to change course, reform the corrupt governance, reassure the people, and enrich the state and strengthen the army!" Someone suggested with righteous fervor.

But few responded. It was mere idle talk—after all, wasn't putting it into action asking too much of people?

To be fair, the Northern Han bore a large share of responsibility for the Later Shu's chaos. Several invasions had shattered the economic balance of Shu, and with malicious intent they fanned the flames, plotting to throw Shu into disorder and further aggravating its instability.

Of course, the Northern Han's role was all external causes. At root, it was the Shu court itself that had fallen into chaos—starting from the Shu sovereign Meng Chang, rotting layer by layer, unstoppable.

While popular sentiment surged within and around Chengdu, inside the Crystal Palace built upon Mohé Pond in the Shu palace, all remained a blaze of shimmering splendor, wind, flowers, snow, and moon—languid music wafting through and around the halls.

The Shu sovereign Meng Chang was enjoying himself to the fullest with his Flower Petal Ladies. The suffering of the common people was no longer his concern—or perhaps, it was something he deliberately chose to ignore.

As a ruler who had governed Chuanshu for more than twenty years, Meng Chang could not possibly have been unaware of the chaos and turmoil within the state in recent years. But knowing was one thing—what was done could not be undone.

He had no solution for the rottenness of court politics either. Even back when the state was stable, he had been unable to muster the resolve to rectify the abuses of the nobles and bureaucrats—let alone now.

For Meng Chang as he was now, rather than racking his brains over those vexing affairs, it was better to indulge in wine and song and make up for all the enjoyment he had missed over the previous twenty years.

The sound of strings and flutes pleased the ear; orioles sang and dancers swirled all around. Meng Chang's noticeably plump figure moved among them, wine cup and wine pot in hand, pouring for himself and drinking alone, slightly tipsy, face flushed. Sometimes he laughed aloud, sometimes he wept with emotion—unrestrained and uninhibited, lost in the revelry, oblivious to the changing winds of the world...

Degeneration, indulgence, escape—such was the truest portrait of the Shu sovereign today.