Chapter 447

Wang Yan, strolling in the Yan Fu Palace, heard the report from Liang Wu's men sent to help Zhao Ji move, and waved his hand: "Alright, I know. Just some paintings, ancient texts, rare treasures—take them if you want. Go to Yuxiang Pavilion and bring Li Shishi to me."

"Yes." The soldier saluted and turned to run off.

Zhao Ji had plenty of fine things; this move, he genuinely took many of his cherished possessions—paintings, calligraphy, antiques. As for money, he dared not touch the imperial treasury, so he loaded several carts with rare treasures, all gifts presented over the years from various regions; if he ran out of cash, he could sell just one item and never go hungry.

To be honest, this was also a test—to see how far Wang Yan's tolerance for him extended. In plain terms, he still didn't trust him, fearing he might be offered a cup of imperial wine or a length of white silk to end his life. And previously, Wang Yan hadn't specified what could or couldn't be taken. Now, with this long convoy of goods removed, if Wang Yan grew angry, he could always move it all back. This old fellow had just enough cunning…

Wang Yan naturally didn't care about Zhao Ji's antics. He didn't care about those things. If he wanted the throne, he could have any number of fine things sent to him—whenever he wished. As Sima Guang said about smashing the vat: when the superior likes something, the inferior will love it even more. Zhao Ji was famously obsessed with paintings, calligraphy, antiques, and rare treasures; most of his collection came from Cai Jing, Wang Fu, and a whole team of others who scoured the land to supply him. Given their character, they must have kept plenty of pieces for their own appreciation and copying—so seizing their homes was nothing extraordinary.

Only Zhao Ji, the great fool, treasured those carefully selected, curated items like priceless gems. Of course, they were gems—but even gems have a price. "Priceless treasure" is just a metaphor, meaning "extremely, extraordinarily expensive."

Compared to what Zhao Ji took away, what Wang Yan now occupied—the Yan Fu Palace and the Your Majesty Mountain—were truly Zhao Ji's real wealth. Though this wealth was proof of his profligacy, if war never reached Bianjing, it would survive a thousand years later: first as material cultural heritage, second as a ready-made monument to Zhao Ji's extravagance.

Zhao Ji had taste, and the craftsmen of the time were skilled. The Yan Fu Palace was expanded by Zhao Ji for his own and his consorts' amusement—he spent most of his time here, sleeping here every day. Within it were countless halls, terraces, pavilions, and towers, each with elegant, poetic names chosen by Zhao Ji himself: Yiqing, Chengping, Baoqiong, Chunjin, Fanying, Qionghua, and many more. In terms of luxury, Zhao Ji, as an artist, possessed refined taste and elegance unmatched among emperors—largely because the Song Dynasty was genuinely wealthy enough to afford it.

Accompanied and guided by eunuchs, he wandered slowly, finding everything fresh. After all, this was the inner palace—he'd never set foot here before.

He hadn't yet dealt with the eunuchs and palace maids. Zhao Ji took away a few he favored; the rest had been slaughtered by Liang Wu during the palace chaos. The remaining eunuchs and maids were extremely obedient, each performing their duties, and the palace had resumed normal operation.

Finally, after more wandering, Li Shishi was brought over in a palanquin.

As the curtain was lifted, Li Shishi peered out and saw the man standing a short distance away, arms folded, smiling at her—still unable to believe it.

This man, audacious beyond measure, who had been her lover for ten years—from her twenties until now, past thirty—whom she had longed for, dreamed of, yearned for—had rebelled. And he had succeeded.

"What? Don't recognize me?"

Li Shishi smiled sweetly, stepped over the lowered pole, and walked to her beloved: "How should I address you? 'Da Guanren'? 'Guanjia'? Or 'His Majesty'?"

"'Guanjia' sounds awful—I'm abolishing it." Wang Yan smiled, pulling the more alluring beauty close, whispering in her ear: "As for how you call me—call me however you like."

The phrase carried double meaning. Li Shishi understood. Though they knew each other's depths and lengths intimately, she still blushed. After all, their affair had always been secret, and this man had always been so intense; years of suppression had left her uncomfortable—especially after ten years. Now, singing out loud felt far more natural.

Laughing, Wang Yan strolled slowly through the Yan Fu Palace with Li Shishi, admiring the scenery.

Though Li Shishi had been with Zhao Ji for many years, this was her first time entering the inner palace. Amid this world's finest scenery, she too found everything new.

In fact, since five years ago, Zhao Ji had rarely summoned Li Shishi; later, sensing danger, he stopped entirely. Not only did he stop seeking women, he even abandoned his favorite pastime: disguising himself to wander Bianjing's streets, reveling in the bustling markets and imagining himself the great lord of the land.

Though she lost favor, her status remained untouched. Though a courtesan, she was still maintained by the emperor—no one dared trouble her. Moreover, she had built her standing on literary talent; even now, past her prime and no longer matching the fresh beauty of rising courtesans, her position endured.

As for beauty, while thirty was typically grandmother age, she was far from faded. Like later generations, with proper care, a woman in her thirties looked little different from one in her twenties—indeed, she gained threefold in mature charm.

Li Shishi never did heavy labor, took Wang Yan's Qiang Shen Wan pills, and used his skincare and cosmetics—her appearance was truly well-maintained. In beauty, she was unmatched. To be honest, this was exactly Wang Mou's taste—not favoritism, just that the threefold mature charm held greater appeal.

"Do you like it?"

"It's fine. Garden-style landscaping like this is rare in our region. To have such a vast expanse in the palace—it's delightful."

"Does your father know how to enjoy life?" Wang Yan smiled at her. "You'll live here from now on."

Li Shishi looked up sharply, opening her mouth to speak—but Wang Yan waved his hand to stop her: "A courtesan? No big deal. Can't bear children? Doesn't matter. I already have eight children, soon nine—I don't need yours. I'm not Zhao Ji, and I have none of his rules. I don't fear gossip. This is settled."

With that said, what could Li Shishi do but accept, deeply moved.

After strolling and dining, they retired to a newly refurbished, elegant hall in the Yan Fu Palace—no longer furtive midnight trysts, but open, daylight acts. No more muffled moans stifled beneath quilts—instead, clear, soaring songs.

Comfortable…

There are no secrets in the palace, and the original eunuchs and maids still served. Though palace guards had been replaced, information still leaked—through carrier pigeons, purchasing agents, or court officials' inquiries.

So, barely had Wang Da Guanren quelled the chaos in Bianjing and secured his imperial title from the ministers, when he brought his father-in-law's concubine into the palace—perfectly demonstrating his potential as a decadent ruler. Perhaps it was the overwhelming joy of success; most believed Wang Yan had become arrogant with power.

Wang Yan didn't care what others thought—he only cared about his own comfort.

Once palace gates and city gates were opened, officials sent letter after letter outward; at the four gates, riders galloped constantly. He knew all this, but simply didn't care. His actions were focused in the north; in another two months, when Wang Ming'an swept through Hebei, he would hold Shandong and Hebei, and have a well-run base in Liaodong—no matter how he acted, it wouldn't matter.

Besides, he hadn't yet secured national sovereignty; even if he wanted to govern diligently, he had nowhere to apply it. Naturally, enjoying himself was what mattered.

Of course, enjoyment aside, he still had to do something. While waiting for regional responses, he couldn't truly idle.

The next day, he issued direct orders to investigate Tong Guan, Liang Shicheng, Li Yan, other eunuchs, Wang Fu, and a host of Zhao Ji's corrupt officials, plus members of the former Zhao Song imperial clan. All were Zhao Ji's confidants; as the saying goes, a new emperor brings new ministers—removing them was inevitable. And all of them were wealthy: their combined lands around Bianjing totaled over 100,000 mu. Zhao Ji's collection of famous calligraphy, ancient antiques, gold, silver, and jewels would instantly enrich the treasury.

But this would also trigger a cascade of dismissals, creating widespread official vacancies and panic among other officials. That was good—fear would make them work harder. As for vacancies, no problem. Bianjing had no shortage of idle officials waiting for appointments. All would joyfully assume office, diligently serve, striving to please their new master and earn promotion to higher positions.

These were side events. The main issue remained the regions' attitudes. As time passed and news spread, the Jingji Road, Jingxi Beilu, Huainan Donglu, and even Hebei Donglu and Hexi—still untouched by Wang Ming'an's troops—began submitting petitions of loyalty, lavishing praise on the new emperor.

They had no choice—they were too close. If they refused obedience, Bianjing had 100,000 troops—including the elite Fubei Army, the strongest in the land, which had marched freely behind the Western Xia and destroyed it. Today they declared defiance, and in two days, the army would arrive to slaughter them.

They had their own forces: local garrison troops numbering in the tens of thousands, auxiliary troops in the tens of thousands more, and peasant militias that could be raised. But even if they had unlimited supplies, the Fubei Army would crush them flat—they were no match.

Given that, how could they dare resist?

As for more distant regions, time would be needed.

At this moment, his family arrived. They were escorted by a thousand soldiers; with logistics personnel, the group exceeded two thousand. Due to Zhao Yupan's fragile condition, they could travel only short distances daily, taking over twenty days to reach Bianjing.

Upon arriving in Bianjing and moving toward the palace, they sensed something was wrong. Upon asking, they learned their husband had successfully rebelled. Zhao Yupan froze—her mind blank, she walked dazedly into the palace and met Wang Yan.

She was indeed frightened, but Wang Yan comforted her, and she calmed. Her fear stemmed from the well-known bloodshed accompanying imperial succession, and her own fate as a former princess. After seeing her father writing and painting in the Taiqing Tower, and meeting her mother and siblings back at the Prince's Mansion, she settled. As for the other imperial clan members—those seized and stripped of wealth, or half-brothers born to concubines—none of it concerned her. She had no affection for them; why care about their fates? As long as her own family was safe, that was enough.

Jinlian and Hu San Niang had no such thoughts—they were simply thrilled. They never imagined their husband would suddenly rebel and become emperor. Jinlian no longer spoke of Wang Family Village; she dragged San Niang along, guided by eunuchs and maids, wandering everywhere in the palace, touching and gazing in delight.

The children were even simpler. Only the few over ten years old had confused thoughts; the rest were still clueless, climbing roofs and causing mischief, grinning and asking their father if he was dead, could they become emperor? They were soundly beaten by San Niang and Jinlian.

The three women naturally met Li Shishi—this was the first time they learned of Wang Yan's affair. They said nothing about Wang Yan bringing Li Shishi into the household. As for her courtesan origins—if Wang Yan himself didn't care, why should they speak? Moreover, even if Wang Yan weren't emperor, his status meant three wives were already sufficient; now that he was emperor, he could issue an edict to select concubines—they had no say at all.

Thus, the inner quarters stabilized. Meanwhile, distant regions finally responded. His plan to peacefully receive the regions before enacting reforms had partially failed.

Because the northern regions—all, including the Western Army—acknowledged Wang Yan's imperial title. Though their commander hadn't returned, they all dispatched messengers at top speed to await orders. Since the Western Army didn't rebel, Shaanxi and Gansu wouldn't either. The Western Army was stationed outside; these regions lay within; Bianjing was behind them. If they refused Wang Yan's rule, they'd be crushed between two fronts—no room for rebellion.

The south was different—mountainous, distant, unreachable for now. So most southern regions refused to submit. These areas had local officials, local garrison troops, local gentry, and peasants concentrated in Huainan Xilu, Jiang Nan Donglu, Jiang Nan Xilu, Liangzhe Lu, and Fujian Lu. Geographically, these five roads formed the southeast, representing the entire south.

At this time, the south was underdeveloped—it wouldn't be cultivated into prosperity until after the Song court relocated south and established Lin'an, over the next 150 years. Now, these five roads were the south's richest lands, with the highest population.

Wang Yan had anticipated this. He'd studied this issue constantly, thought it through thoroughly, and accepted it without resistance—so he had a strategy ready.

Simple enough: since the main southern regions had already rebelled, he didn't mind more rebellions—so he began his reforms immediately.

First, recognize Confucius's historical status, abolish the title "Duke Yansheng," and thoroughly investigate the Kong family's illegal acts, punishing them severely. Clearly, the goal was still to strike at Confucianism.

The Song had nurtured scholars for over a century—Confucian power was immense. Though now their prestige had been stolen by Zhao Ji and his corrupt ministers, the scholar-gentry group remained strong. Otherwise, Zhao Ji wouldn't have been so terrified during his tours that he returned to the palace and stayed put.

Moreover, he intended to reform education and official selection, elevate the military's status—each of these struck at the core of today's civil officials. They wouldn't remain passive; future resistance was inevitable. So he might as well strike now.

Second, state ownership of land. Re-survey all land and redefine agricultural taxes. The previous rate of 15% remains, but adds a limit: households with less than twenty mu retain the 15% rate. For land exceeding twenty mu, tax rates rise progressively by tier, reaching as high as 50%.

Twenty mu—few households reached this level. The Song did not restrict land consolidation; whether willingly or not, land naturally concentrated in the hands of the few. In fact, he set the threshold at forty mu: for land between twenty and forty mu, the rate was 10%. This number was actually quite reasonable for the time. After all, when he first arrived, Wang Family Village paid him 10%—he was already famed as a benevolent man across the region.

In fact, even a thousand years later, his tax rates were still low—this was purely based on numbers alone. Although the national average tax rate later became 15.5 percent, first, land yields were high; second, the state strongly supported agriculture with policies of exemptions and subsidies. On paper, it looked like that rate, but in reality, what was actually paid was only 2, 3, 4, or 5 percent—completely incomparable.

His system wasn't without loopholes, since it was based on households. Large landowners could simply transfer land titles to their landless tenant farmers, thereby diluting higher tax brackets. But he wasn't without restrictions: land was counted strictly by household, regardless of private agreements; only the head of household was recognized, and no private arrangements were acknowledged. If anyone truly exploited this loophole, believing their influence was great enough to control others, Wang Yan would teach them how to be human—killing a few would suffice.

Third, commercial taxes were redefined, collected in tiers based on revenue, significantly higher than before, and levied quarterly. Under current conditions, of course, auditing ledgers was impossible, and tax evasion was inevitable. But that wasn't a problem: after all, merchants' scale was evident, and once accustomed to the system, they generally knew the approximate amounts—and there were occasional random audits. There were always ways to deal with them. Killing a few now and then still served as excellent deterrence against others clinging to the hope of getting away with it.

Moreover, those who evaded taxes were mostly large trading houses; small workshops already faced relatively low tax rates and had no reason to risk it. Thus, although many still remained, their numbers were finite. Challenges existed, but certainly not insurmountable ones.

With these three measures alone, the whole realm could rise in rebellion. Other reforms—official system, military system, currency system, and so on—were utterly insignificant beside these three.

Therefore, after these three policies were announced nationwide, chaos naturally erupted in the northern regions, while the south laughed openly and brazenly.

In the Liaodong region, the Liao and Jin states were neither blind nor deaf; news of events within Great Song had already reached them. Previously, Wu De's troops had joined forces with Great Song's northern army; later, Wang Yan issued an imperial edict officially recognizing the "Baoqian" currency, previously circulated in the north, as the designated currency. Even if they were fools, they knew this was Wang Yan's doing—that Great Song and Lu Zhishen's faction had become one. Now, with Great Song's internal chaos, this was clearly an opportunity.

Wang Yan had received word that Liao and Jin were forming an alliance.

To be honest, he didn't care about the Liao-Jin alliance. The only reasons Liao and Jin still existed were two: first, they lacked sufficient talent to govern effectively; second, their territories were too vast, and swallowing them whole might cause indigestion. It was never because they lacked strength or couldn't defeat them.

So the Liao-Jin alliance? Just as it is…