Chapter 209: 207

After writing to Chen Maosheng, Zhao Han also sent a mass letter to the town chiefs of all the impoverished counties, telling them to report on the mountain people's situation.

The town chiefs replied one after another, all complaining that the mountain people were hard to manage.

Take Yongning County, for example: the entire county has only three towns. If a town chief goes to visit a mountain household, the one-way trip sometimes takes a day or two, so they basically rely entirely on each village's headman for self-governance (the headmen get no salary, running purely on goodwill; otherwise the finances would collapse).

Moreover, even though they've held Yongning County for three months now, the land distribution work in the mountains still hasn't been completed.

Looking at Longquan County's report, the land distribution work there is also unfinished, the reason likewise being that the mountain roads are too difficult to travel.

Fortunately, the mountain people in these places don't band together the way the Hakka do, and the conflict between people and land is also fairly acute. As long as officials are sent in and land is distributed to them, the mountain people are all very supportive of Zhao Han, and the propaganda corps and peasant associations can develop smoothly as well.

After careful thought, Zhao Han wrote an essay: "On Governance in the Mountains: Road-Building Comes First."

After the secretaries copied it out, this essay was immediately distributed to officials in every county and town.

The main task for those mountain-region officials going forward will be to organize the villagers to build roads. Divide the road sections by area and assign them to villages and towns; each village is responsible for its own section — farming in the busy season, road-building in the idle season.

Of course, the promotion of sweet potatoes and corn must not be neglected either.

Sweet potatoes in particular — the mountain soil is barren, and that stuff can fill the peasants' bellies.

As for taxes and the like, Zhao Han actually doesn't count on them; it's enough if the mountain people can support the local officials. Not needing the Regional Commander's headquarters to allocate funds is already quite good.

Zhao Han strolled back to the inner residence and invited Pang Chunlai and Li Banghua home for a meal.

It wasn't yet evening; the three of them sat in the courtyard drinking tea.

Zhao Han took out a sheet of paper, handed it over, and said, "The generation names are set. Please take a look, gentlemen."

Pang Chunlai glanced at it, then passed it to Li Banghua. Li Banghua glanced at it, then handed it back to Zhao Han.

The son had been born for over half a year now and still hadn't been given a name.

Zhao Han had originally chosen one, but both Pang Chunlai and Li Banghua opposed it. This is the future Crown Prince; naming him must be done with caution, because it will set the corresponding rules for all descendants to come.

For instance, Zhu Yuanzhang's eldest son was named Zhu Biao, so all his sons had the "wood" radical in their names.

They had told Zhao Han to prepare a generation-name sequence and even participated in helping to devise one, but everything they came up with was rejected by Zhao Han.

Now, Zhao Han had devised a generation-name sequence himself. The order for successive generations is: Rectify the age, aid the people; govern the state, secure the realm. Comfort the rich, relieve the poor; let not the founding purpose be forgotten. Flourish in letters, triumph in arms; cultivate within, repel without. Select the worthy, raise the capable; its Way shall shine forth greatly.

Li Banghua cautioned, "Only thirty-two characters — isn't that too few?"

Zhao Han laughed and said, "I think it's too many. If it can last twenty emperors, I'd die laughing with joy. The generation names the Ming founder set were plenty long — how many of them have the Great Ming emperors actually used?"

Li Banghua was instantly speechless; he had never seen anything like this.

Never mind founding monarchs setting generation names — even ordinary great clans would produce a long string of them. Zhao Han, on the other hand, made only a brief thirty-two characters, as if he thought his descendants' rule would last too long.

"Why not add another thirty-two characters?" Pang Chunlai suggested.

Zhao Han shook his head. "If it can be passed down thirty-two generations, that alone would let us laugh proudly at all past dynasties. If it endures beyond thirty-two generations, that will be the descendants' own achievement; they can continue the sequence themselves when the time comes — it won't be too late."

Zhao Han dipped his finger in tea and wrote his eldest son's name on the stone table — Zhao Kuanghuan.

This name, too, had its symbolic reasoning. Zhao Han didn't want to bother with such reasoning, but his ministers insisted on elaborating it.

The Ming corresponds to the virtue of Fire; Water can overcome Fire. Thus, Zhao Han's replacement of the Ming dynasty is ordained by Heaven's mandate. Why else would his name happen to carry the water radical?

Water gives birth to Wood; therefore, his sons should carry the wood radical.

Huan — great, mighty.

Zhao Kuanghuan, Zhao Kuanghuan... Li Banghua murmured it twice and felt it was somewhat awkward. He was thankful Zhao Han hadn't named his son Zhao Kuangyin.

Zhao Han also found it awkward. Could it be that his descendants would also end up with a periodic table of elements?

"Second Brother, I'm back!"

Zhao Zhenfang came bouncing in, her book bag on her back.

Seeing Pang Chunlai and Li Banghua, she immediately bowed and saluted: "Mr. Pang, Mr. Li."

"Good!" Pang Chunlai said happily.

Li Banghua cupped his hands in salute while seated, not rising. He had wanted to stand up before, but Zhao Han had stopped him several times.

Zhao Han asked, "What did you learn today?"

Zhao Zhenfang stood behind her brother, leaning on the back of his chair, and said, "In the morning we studied arithmetic — I already knew it. In the afternoon we practiced calligraphy, recited Tang poetry, and were also taught needlework."

"Not bad. Study hard," Zhao Han encouraged.

The girls' school run by the gentry did not teach the Four Books and Five Classics, and Zhao Han had not insisted on it either. The truth was, there were hardly any female teachers who knew that material.

To be honest, the more Zhao Han studied the School of Principle, the more he felt its breadth and profundity; its philosophical thought influenced China for the next several hundred years. Even in the 21st century, many of the words and deeds of Chinese people are subtly shaped by the School of Principle without their realizing it.

Zhao Han had no intention of abolishing the School of Principle, but many of its contents must be excised.

At the same time, scientific thought should also be introduced. In the future, officials cannot be selected purely through the eight-legged essay.

To be precise, it is not introduction, but inspiration and creation. Because the West is also a complete mess right now, flailing about haphazardly — Newton won't be born until the year before Chongzhen hangs himself.

Zhao Han very much wanted to recompile the elementary education textbooks, but he was busy with military and administrative affairs all day and had no time to do it personally, and the material compiled by those scholars never satisfied him.

Before long, Xiyue came to call everyone to eat; Fei Rulan had already set out the bowls and chopsticks.

Li Banghua sighed inwardly every time he saw this. Even among ordinary wealthy households, there were few where the mistress of the house personally set the table.

"Knock knock knock!"

"Enter!"

A military-affairs secretary from the Secretariat, disregarding the fact that Zhao Han was eating, delivered a translated secret letter.

After reading it, Zhao Han immediately laughed. "Chongzhen has formally reinstated the army supervisors. Gao Qiqian even got the title of 'Inspector-General.'"

Pang Chunlai and Li Banghua exchanged a glance and said in unison, "Congratulations, Regional Commander!"

Chongzhen had previously recalled all the eunuchs, and later only dispatched them again on a small scale, and their authority was not particularly great.

This year, the Tartars breached the passes and, taking the one hundred eighty thousand head of livestock they had plundered, along with many people and goods, swaggered away from the capital region. They even set up a wooden sign by the Great Wall that read: "No need for any officials to see us off."

The civil officials and military officers indeed did not dare to see them off, sitting by and watching the Qing army withdraw at its leisure.

Chongzhen was provoked by this and completely lost trust in his civil and military officials. Not only did he send out eunuchs again, but the army supervisors' authority became even greater, reaching the peak of the entire Ming dynasty!

Ah, pitiful Supreme Commanders of the Great Ming — their work was already difficult enough, and now they'll have eunuchs ordering them around on top of it.

Li Banghua asked, "The eunuch army supervisor has already reached Jiangxi?"

"Not yet," Zhao Han said with a smile. "He's probably just left the capital. It'll be another month or two before he arrives."

Li Banghua was even more astonished. Zhao Han's spies were truly formidable — the eunuch hadn't even left the capital, yet word had already reached Ji'an Prefecture.

In truth, it wasn't that mysterious. Before appointing army-supervising eunuchs to the various regions, the news would spread like wildfire. The Restoration Society scholars were all in an uproar, each clamoring to submit memorials of protest. Once the Yangzhou spies got word, they sent it at once to Jiujiang; from Jiujiang it went to Nanchang, and Xu Ying forwarded it to Zhao Han.

……

"Cough, cough, cough…"

Zhu Xieyuan got the news a day later than Zhao Han. He lay on his bed in a daze for a long while, then suddenly broke into uncontrollable coughing.

The Emperor — what folly!

In truth, whether eunuchs were dispatched or not had nothing to do with Zhu Xieyuan, for he was already mortally ill and now found it hard even to get out of bed to eat.

"Supreme Commander, Mr. Wang requests an audience."

"Let him in."

Wang Tingshi came before the sickbed, clasped his hands, and said, "I pay my respects to the Supreme Commander."

"Sit," Zhu Xieyuan said feebly.

After being taken captive, Wang Tingshi had been held only half a month before being released. He claimed publicly that he had hidden at an old friend's home, fallen ill and convalesced, and only then slipped back to Nanchang Prefecture in secret.

Wang Tingshi sighed mournfully. "Supreme Commander, after our last defeat, none of the good families' sons are willing to enlist. This late-born student cannot raise troops at all in the countryside."

Zhu Xieyuan consoled him: "The fault is not yours — it was my misjudgment in command. I have already submitted a memorial admitting my guilt, and I have asked the Jiangxi provincial offices to recommend you for reinstatement. As to the outcome, we can only await the imperial will."

Wang Tingshi glanced toward the door, then said in a low voice, "Supreme Commander, from Nanchang to Jiujiang, everyone now fears the rebel Zhao. Even if we could recruit soldiers, future battles would likely be hopeless — the officers and men would flee at the mere rumor of his approach."

"Help me sit up," Zhu Xieyuan said.

Wang Tingshi hurried to support him. Zhu Xieyuan braced himself against the edge of the bed and, with immense difficulty, sat upright.

The Supreme Commander said, "At the battle of Fengcheng, the government forces were utterly destroyed, and northern Jiangxi now has no usable troops left. Any other bandit would have seized the chance to expand on a grand scale, seizing several prefectures with ease. Yet this rebel Zhao keeps his nerve — he merely sends men to organize peasant associations, waiting until the fruit is ripe before he plucks it. Scour the histories and you will find no rebel like him. His ambition is vast indeed. My days are numbered, and I no longer fear punishment for my words: if the Great Ming realm should fall, the one who wins the empire will surely be this rebel!"

Wang Tingshi followed Zhu Xieyuan's lead. "The Supreme Commander sees clearly. Outside the walls of Nanchang's prefectural seat and county seat, everything is now in the hands of the peasant associations. Peasants and tenant farmers are joining the associations in droves, and even some impoverished scholars have been beguiled by the rebel Zhao. This year's autumn grain tax will certainly be impossible to collect."

The collection period for the autumn grain tax ran from the autumn harvest until the second month of the following year.

Once the peasant associations grew strong, the officials in the cities dared not venture out, each one cowering inside the prefectural and county seats.

The great landlords, too, dared not obstruct the peasant associations — the government troops had simply been routed too disastrously at Fengcheng. They feared that if they moved against the associations, they would later face Zhao Han's reckoning, and then their entire clans would be wiped out.

By now, rumors filled the air. Some said Zhao Han practiced sorcery; some said he was a star god descended to earth; others said he was a household slave of the Fei clan of Yanshan.

To conceal his identity as much as possible, Zhao Han also sent men to spread rumors — at one moment saying he was a household slave of a certain clan in Jishui, the next that he was a son born of a concubine in a certain Le'an clan, then that he was the scion of a merchant family in Fuzhou, and at another that he was in fact a salt smuggler.

With so many conflicting rumors, the authorities could not ascertain the truth, and so they gave up on tracking down the Fei clan of Yanshan.

At this very moment, Fei Yinghuan was still serving as a department magistrate in Fujian.

Wang Tingshi said in a hushed voice, "Ding Kui Chu, the Left Provincial Administration Commissioner, has been pleading illness for several days now. I fear this man may hang up his seal and flee."

Zhu Xieyuan remained silent. Even the Provincial Administration Commissioner had been frightened out of his wits — was there any hope left for Jiangxi?

Wang Tingshi then drew out a booklet and handed it over. "Supreme Commander, this is a rebel book that has been circulating lately."

Zhu Xieyuan opened it and glanced at it — and was instantly rendered speechless.

Biographies of the Great Unity Women Generals.

It recorded one hundred and eight female propaganda officers, from their names to their personal histories, all set down in clear detail.

If The Great Unity Collection was meant for the scholars, then this thing was meant specifically for women.

(End of chapter)