Chapter 172: Extremely High Printing

Zhongdu, Daxing Prefecture, Ministry of Revenue Office.

Xu Chiguo had not returned home for four consecutive days. His wife sent servants to deliver cotton-padded jackets to the office three times, and he returned all three unopened—not because he wasn't cold, but because he simply had no time to wear them. The abacus beads of the Ministry of Revenue clattered from dawn till dusk; twelve veteran accountants worked in shifts, their fingers cramping from counting, while the charcoal braziers burned empty without anyone noticing to refill them. The entire office reeked of charcoal ash, ink, and sweat, resembling a massive pawnshop.

Spread out on the desk before him was a freshly drafted military budget. The northern front would increase troops to two hundred thousand, the western front to one hundred and fifty thousand, and the southern front would maintain a garrison of one hundred thousand—totaling four hundred and fifty thousand standing troops. Adding the civilian laborers and miscellaneous workers needed for building border walls, forging weapons, and transporting grain, the actual number of people requiring support approached six hundred thousand. The daily consumption of grain, firewood, winter clothing, arrows, and horseshoes for six hundred thousand people, converted into silver, was a number that could wake the Minister of Revenue in the middle of the night.

Xu Chiguo stared at this number, silent for the entire duration of a stick of incense. Then he picked up his brush and wrote a line at the very bottom of the budget sheet: "Increase salt and iron taxes by thirty percent, print an additional five hundred thousand guan of paper currency, suspend the re-minting of silver coins, and melt down old silver ingots to pay the troops."

The Vice Minister beside him glanced over and gasped: "My lord, if we print another five hundred thousand guan of paper currency, the market value of the notes is likely to collapse—"

"Collapse or not, we must print." Xu Chiguo did not look up, his brush continuing to move across the paper. "Two hundred thousand men on the northern front cannot wait for next spring's tax revenue. If we don't print currency, what do we use to pay the troops? Our mouths?"

He slammed his brush down onto the inkstone, splattering ink that stained half a draft sheet black.

"Convey my orders. Starting next month, the state monopoly on salt and iron will be increased by thirty percent. The price of salt will rise from twelve wen per jin to sixteen wen; iron will rise from eight hundred wen per hundred jin to one thousand and forty wen. All salt-field households and iron-smelting households must double their annual quotas; failure to complete them will result in three years of penal labor. Furthermore, the salt and iron coupons issued henceforth will accept only silver and copper coins, not paper currency."

"Not accept paper currency?" The Vice Minister's eyes widened. "Then the paper currency in the hands of the common people—"

"That is why we must issue this batch of paper currency before raising the taxes." Xu Chiguo's voice was as cold as a winter anvil. "Issue the notes first, then collect the silver, allowing the paper currency to circulate in the market for three more months. Three months from now, when the value of the notes drops, that is the people's problem; the court's silver will already be collected."

This was drinking poison to quench thirst. Xu Chiguo had led the Ministry of Revenue for fifteen years and knew better than anyone what the devaluation of paper currency meant—twenty years ago, when the Great Jin first issued paper currency, one guan of notes could be exchanged for one tael of silver, and everyone in the market clamored to use it because paper notes were lighter than copper coins. Now? It took five guan of paper currency to exchange for one tael of silver. If they printed another five hundred thousand guan, he dared not think how far the value would plummet. But if they didn't print currency, winter clothing for the border troops in the north could not be transported, the walls on the western front could not be built, and every minute Wanyan Honglie spent delaying time in the south would be wasted.

Drinking poison to quench thirst, but the poison takes time to take effect. And that organization in the north would not give him that much time.

Three days later, Wanyan Jing formally approved Xu Chiguo's military budget proposal at the court session. Not a single minister opposed it—not because they didn't want to, but because no one could produce a better plan. After the session ended, Tuodan Yi said something profound to Jiagu Heng: "This old man Xu's plan is trading the Great Jin's future for its present. I hope we still have a future."

Jiagu Heng did not answer. He walked slowly in the shadows of the palace path. Faintly, the bustle of the marketplace could be heard beyond the palace walls; it was the morning market of Zhongdu City, with vegetable sellers, blacksmiths, and cloth merchants as lively as usual. These common people did not yet know that the thin paper notes in their pockets would become worthless paper in three months.

Before departing Zhongdu for Lin'an, Wanyan Honglie met with Wanyan Anguo alone.

He chose the time to be early morning, before dawn; the Bureau of Military Affairs office was empty, with only the night guard dozing at the door. Wanyan Anguo was roused from his bed, threw on an old fur coat, and rushed to the office, only to find Wanyan Honglie already standing before the map, holding a cup of cold tea, having waited who knew how long.

"Zhao Wang?" Wanyan Anguo rubbed his eyes. "You come to find me at this hour; what has happened?"

Wanyan Honglie turned around. His face was calm, but his eye sockets were deeply sunken, clearly indicating he too had not slept all night. In his hand, besides the tea cup, he held a list—precisely the roster of Khitan generals that Wanyan Anguo had just finished drafting and was preparing to submit for imperial review.

"Anguo," Wanyan Honglie got straight to the point, "I have reviewed the five control measures you proposed for the Khitan generals. Regarding the timing, I fully understand. But there are a few words I wish to speak frankly with you."

Wanyan Anguo's expression grew serious, and he instinctively straightened his posture. He knew this Zhao Wang was not here for idle chat.

"Please speak."

Wanyan Honglie paced two steps, lowering his voice as if afraid to startle something outside the window.

"Rotating garrisons to disperse their locations, sending additional military inspectors, and replacing key positions are standard measures; implement them as needed. But there are two areas where you must exercise extreme caution. First, the Khitan Jiu troops of the Linhuang Prefecture route. Second, the border defense forces of the Western Ducheng route. The proportion of Khitans in these two units is too high. If you push them too hard, it won't take much; if just one or two generals lead a few thousand cavalry to defect, our entire defensive line will collapse from within. By then, we won't need the New Ming Party to act; we will have opened the door ourselves."

Wanyan Anguo frowned tightly; he certainly knew what these two areas mentioned by Zhao Wang meant. The Jiu troops of the Linhuang Prefecture route were a crucial pillar of the Great Jin's northern border defense. Although the court always suspected the Khitans, after years of border duty, those Khitan cavalry's understanding of the terrain and the various grassland tribes was irreplaceable by Jurchen soldiers. Furthermore, the border defense forces of the Western Ducheng route were the first line of defense directly facing the Western Xia direction; if anything went wrong, the consequences would be unimaginable.

"Then, according to Zhao Wang's opinion—"

"Military inspectors must be sent, but they must be people who understand the Khitan language and grassland affairs. Rotations must occur, but not all at once—retain those veteran Khitan generals who have over twenty years of military merit with us; their families are all in Zhongdu, so they will not run. Key positions must be changed, but the replacements cannot be entirely Jurchens; keep a few Xi and Bohai faces so the Khitans feel this is merely normal rotation rather than a purge targeting them." Wanyan Honglie suddenly wore a weary smile as he spoke. "Anguo, my trip to Lin'an this time is, in plain terms, a delaying tactic; I am using my own face as a target for Han Tuozhou to buy him a few days of hesitation. Do you know what I fear most?"

Wanyan Anguo remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"What I fear most is not Lin'an. I see Han Tuozhou's determination for the northern expedition very clearly; it cannot be stopped. What I fear most is that while I do everything possible to delay time at the front, chaos erupts from within the rear. If the Khitans rebel, if the Xis rebel, if those grassland tribal remnants we relocated to the interior take this opportunity to cause trouble—then my trip to Lin'an will be meaningless. A Great Jin already torn apart from within does not need any external enemies to fall; it will collapse on its own."

Wanyan Anguo remained silent for a long time. The water clock in the Bureau of Military Affairs dripped drop by drop; a line of gray-white appeared in the east, and Zhongdu City was waking up.

"I understand," he finally said. "Regarding the surveillance of Khitan generals, I will personally oversee it, leaving no opportunity for the New Ming Party. As for the investigation of the grassland tribal remnants relocated to Zhongjing and Shangjing, I will immediately assign additional personnel. All those without current dynasty household registration, of unknown origin, or with recent suspicious contacts will be placed under control immediately. In extraordinary times, extraordinary measures must be used."

"No." Wanyan Honglie suddenly shook his head. "Not control—surveillance. Control will provoke backlash; surveillance allows us to gather intelligence. You must make them feel they are still free, then observe who they contact and where they send letters. If these people truly have connections with the north, then they will be our best source of intelligence."

Wanyan Anguo paused for a moment, then nodded: "Understood. Let out the line to catch the fish."

Wanyan Honglie returned the roster of Khitan generals to Wanyan Anguo, turned back to the map, and spoke his final words with his back to him.

"Anguo, remember this—the Great Jin's greatest enemy is not in the north, nor in the south. It is within our own ranks. External enemies can be blocked; internal chaos cannot."