Chapter 844: Shu Pacified, Triumphant Return

In late spring in the Eastern Capital, ten thousand flowers bloomed in splendor—peonies and herbaceous peonies in full blossom—and the fragrance of spring flowers faintly permeated the entire city. For nearly two months, the focus of the Emperor of Han and the court's work had remained on the governance and pacification of the three circuits of Chuanshu.

A large number of administrative and supervisory officials were transferred from the central government and local prefectures into Shu, spreading the administrative system widely. The relocation of Shu's populace continued apace; by March, 21,580 households of Shu's scholar-officials and poor commoners had already been moved into Hunan. The local Shu strongmen who had participated in the rebellion, along with captives, were also relocated northwestward with the northbound troops, implementing the policy of settling the frontiers with migrants, with the primary focus on infiltration into the Longxi region.

According to the plan of the Hall of State Affairs, two hundred thousand Shu people were to be relocated northward, chiefly rebel captives, supplemented by a portion of impoverished peasants, plus former Shu soldiers. Once the plan was completed, setting aside other matters, the hidden dangers to the Great Han court's rule over Chuanshu would be greatly reduced.

All those relocated northward were to be organized under semi-militarized management, with equal land distribution for cultivation, fortifications built for communal settlement, and no villages established—instead, groups of one hundred households formed a regiment, subordinate to the various Army Commanders throughout the region, with three village elders appointed to manage each, positions basically filled by low-ranking officers who had earned merit in pacifying Shu.

Thinking it over carefully, this seemed to be reversing the wheel of history—such an arrangement effectively granted the Army Commanders a certain degree of administrative power. However, the border regions were complex, and to strengthen control over those weak areas, one had to adapt measures to local conditions and circumstances.

Having been emperor for so many years, Liu Chengyou had gained a deeper understanding of many governing systems. Take the much-maligned Tang dynasty system of military governors in the provinces: when it was first established, its original intent was absolutely good—facilitating border management, curbing frontier troubles, and ensuring the smooth transmission of military and administrative orders. It simply lacked checks and balances and oversight, gradually spiraling out of control, leaving endless calamities in its wake.

Liu Chengyou's ambition and desire for the old northwestern territories could now be described as an open secret. And if he wished to expand westward, recover the lost homeland, and consolidate the border defenses, he would have to loosen the reins somewhat on the military and administrative affairs of the western frontier prefectures.

Running the border prefectures the same way as the interior ones would also cause problems—the Great Song of another time and space constantly served as a warning to Liu Chengyou. To reduce or suppress hidden dangers, all he could do was devote more thought to oversight and fiscal taxation.

In fact, as long as the court's authority was sufficient and it possessed overwhelming strength, none of this would be a problem. But if the emperor turned fatuous and court politics fell into chaos, even without the scourge of military provinces or the harm of frontier armies, other disorders would arise.

Therefore, Liu Chengyou was not afraid of reversing the wheel.

Time was the best sedative. After a full half-year of twists and turns, the court's rule over Shu could be said to be basically stabilized. In the second month, a group of former Shu officials, represented by Quan Shixiong, Wang Zhongfu, and Ju Zhongzheng, arrived at the capital. Liu Chengyou received them personally—these were men of considerable reputation and administrative talent. After receiving Liu Chengyou's commendations, they were quickly sent back to the three circuits of Chuanshu to serve as senior officials of the prefectures. Governing Shu still required the help of Shu's own talents.

Including Li Tinggui, the Shu army's commander-in-chief who had been captured at Xixian when the Han army advanced on Hanzhong—Liu Chengyou also remembered him. When this man had suffered defeat back then, he held his sword aloft but hesitated, ultimately unable to steel himself to commit suicide, which became a momentary laughingstock. But of course, dying has always been the hardest thing in the world, so it was not entirely incomprehensible.

As the commander who had led the Shu army north against the Great Han for so long, he was not subjected to humiliation after being escorted to the Eastern Capital. Liu Chengyou had looked into this man—he was not actually mediocre, and his official reputation was not bad. Compared to the crowd of luxury-indulging bureaucrats and nobles in Chengdu, he could be considered a breath of fresh air.

Take the surrendered general Han Jixun: he suffered defeat after defeat in Shu, yet repeatedly earned military merit in Han. Thus, one could not judge a man's abilities one-sidedly. The same went for Li Tinggui—looking at his overall performance resisting the Han army in the north, aside from some remote command interference from Wang Zhaoyuan, the decisions he made against the enemy showed no major flaws. But many times, correctness was only relatively correct; when the tide of events turned, no matter how one struggled, in the end one still suffered total defeat.

When Liu Chengyou had received him back then, Li Tinggui's attitude had been fairly deferential, but when Liu Chengyou asked whether he was willing to serve the Great Han, he answered with silence. Later he replied that the Meng father and son had shown him kindness; having led a great army to defeat and lost territory, unable to die for his honor, he was already deeply ashamed—how could he dare accept the Great Han's salary?

At his answer, Liu Chengyou chuckled but did not make things difficult for him. He rewarded him with some money and silk, let him take up residence in the Eastern Capital, and forbade him from leaving the Kaifeng area. By the time the Han army destroyed Shu last year, Meng Chang surrendered, and his entire clan came over. Liu Chengyou received Li Tinggui again—this time, without any further prompting, the man sensibly volunteered his willingness to serve the Great Han, and Liu Chengyou appointed him Prefect of Yuzhou.

The other person was Wang Zhaoyuan. Toward this "celebrated" little Zhuge Liang of Shu, Liu Chengyou, after he was escorted to the Eastern Capital, received him with great interest and re-enacted the Han army's campaign to pacify Shu with him.

This Wang Zhaoyuan was something of an amusing character—he truly remained unconvinced, always feeling that his defeat was not his fault. Before Liu Chengyou he could also let himself go, discoursing endlessly on military strategy.

Through contact, one discovered that Wang Zhaoyuan was indeed no ordinary man. On national strategy, military tactics, and the art of employing troops, he spoke with perfect coherence, his theoretical knowledge deep and solid. The problem, however, was that he was too prone to taking things for granted—many matters, without examining the detailed circumstances, he would speak off the top of his head based on subjective imagination. Overall, theory and practice were severely disconnected; he was too fond of empty talk.

Combining Wang Zhaoyuan's command performance at Lizhou with listening to his own account from his perspective, one could find that many of his judgments and decisions had their reasons and were quite persuasive—it was just that the changes on the battlefield did not shift according to his will, so whatever he did, he got wrong.

Opportunities in battle changed in an instant. For a general, the ability to judge the battlefield situation and seize opportunities in combat was far more important than the military manuals recorded in books. Famous generals were all forged through experience. Wang Zhaoyuan had neither the prestige to command troops nor combat experience, and he was self-important in everything—how could he be a match for the battle-hardened Han army generals?

Still, to be fair, Wang Zhaoyuan could count as a talent. In this age, how many people in the world could discourse at length on military and national strategy and make it self-consistent? Even if divorced from reality, that was already rare.

Liu Chengyou was in high spirits, seized by an impulse to turn waste into treasure, and simply kept him at Chongzheng Hall to advise on military affairs. Listening to his grand talk, his armchair strategizing, his governing the realm with words—he could do that too, and occasionally sparks of thought would collide...

In these past few months, Wang Zhaoyuan had already presented three memorials to Liu Chengyou: the "Plan for Pacifying the South," the "Plan for Pacifying Liao," and the "Memorial on Northwestern Strategy"—all grounded in the realm as a whole, viewing the complete picture, and not lacking in adoptable points.

Take his "Plan for Pacifying Liao" for example: Wang Zhaoyuan suggested developing cavalry to strengthen the Han army's mobility, stockpiling crossbows, diligently drilling phalanx formations to improve the Han army's ability to counter cavalry, and also sending envoys to contact and divide the tribes beyond the frontier, uniting with Goryeo—a whole series of ideas.

However, when Liu Chengyou asked about the specifics—how exactly to divide them, which tribes to contact, and other concrete implementation questions—Wang Zhaoyuan fell silent. As for the Khitan's military and administrative systems, troop deployments, tribal distributions, relative strengths, and contradictory relationships—of all these matters, Wang Zhaoyuan knew nothing whatsoever.

Of course, a bucket of cold water did not dampen Wang Zhaoyuan's enthusiasm. He began collecting information, researching and understanding the specific situation of Liao, and requested permission to go as an envoy to Liao. To this, Liu Chengyou expressed encouragement and opened every door of convenience—who knew, perhaps in the future the Great Han would gain one more expert on Liao affairs?

In mid-spring, the Han army—which had campaigned, garrisoned, and suppressed rebellions in Shu for nearly eight months—finally returned in triumph, marching back to court under the leadership of commander-in-chief Xiang Xun, arriving at the Eastern Capital. The troops entering the capital, aside from the imperial army, were all meritorious officers and soldiers from the pacification of Shu, including the southwestern army of Guanzhong origin, totaling over twenty thousand men. Most of them had never entered the capital before.

Liu Chengyou issued an edict to hold an entry ceremony for the returning victorious army. Chancellor Fan Zhi led the crowd to welcome them, to show the court's esteem. The people of the Eastern Capital vied to watch, spectators gathering like walls.

And with the return of the generals and the great army that had pacified Shu, a topic was also placed on the agenda: the rewards and punishments for the officers and soldiers of the Shu campaign, weighing their merits and faults.