Chapter 292: 290. Poetic Talent (Bonus Chapter for Boss Penguin)

"When to send troops, and how to send them — I already have my plans," Zhao Han said.

"I know where General Zhao intends to campaign this summer," Xu Nianzu picked up his teacup, walked to Zhao Han's desk, and dipped a finger in tea to sketch a rough map. "Nothing more than taking all of southern Huguang, using the Yangtze as a boundary to face off against the northern government forces."

Zhao Han found this somewhat interesting and smiled. "Go on."

Xu Nianzu did not continue drawing the map, but instead said, "Fujian has been plagued by bandits for years, and the Fujian government troops were annihilated in Jiangxi. Your intention, General, is to send troops north from Yanshan and west from Chaozhou. If you can win over Zheng Zhilong, you could even strike Fuzhou from the sea. The Fujian government troops will surely surrender at the mere rumor of your approach."

Zhao Han sat up straight and looked at the man. His expansion plan for this summer had just been laid out with perfect clarity.

Well, it was not exactly shocking — anyone who understood military strategy could guess it.

Zhao Han asked with a smile, "In that case, why do you urge me to send troops into Jiangnan?"

Xu Nianzu said, "The reason General Zhao has long delayed moving on Jiangnan is simply out of wariness toward the court's great northern armies. That wariness is no longer needed. Last year the Tartar slaves breached the passes and turned Beizhili and Shandong upside down. The northwestern roving bandits seized the chance to grow strong, and now they have beaten Henan and Nanzhili into utter chaos. Far from being able to dispatch a great army south, the court does not even have enough troops to fight in the north, and must levy an additional training surtax to raise and drill new forces. The moment that training surtax is imposed, the Great Ming is doomed!"

"Sit down, no need to keep standing," Zhao Han gestured with a raised hand.

The Ming court was collapsing a little too fast.

Judging by the current situation, even if Zhao Han did absolutely nothing, the Ming could never hold out until the seventeenth year of Chongzhen.

Last year was a watershed —

Zhao Han expanded, the Tartars broke through the passes, and the roving bandits rose again.

These three forces had no direct connection to one another, yet they influenced and accelerated each other, and together they battered and crippled the court.

This set off a violent chemical reaction!

The Ming's finances have already completely collapsed. It is only the spring of the twelfth year of Chongzhen, yet in terms of fiscal condition, the collapse has probably reached the level of the fifteenth year of Chongzhen.

Even among the government troops encircling the bandits, many units can no longer be paid or provisioned, and rely entirely on their commanders looting from the common people.

The court still intends to raise and drill new armies, imposing an additional training surtax totaling seven million taels.

The bulk of these seven million taels of silver must be extracted from Henan, Shandong, Nanzhili, Zhejiang, Sichuan, and Hubei. Add to that the silver embezzled by local officials — how can the common people possibly bear it?

Zhao Han would like to let the Great Ming live a few more years, but from the look of things now, it truly does not have long to live.

"General," Xu Nianzu said urgently, "will you just stand by and watch the people of Jiangnan starve to death?"

Zhao Han countered, "Your Xu clan has so much land — why not take out grain to relieve the famine victims?"

Xu Nianzu sighed. "The Xu clan's cotton fields and mulberry groves are indeed extensive, but we truly do not have much grain land. If the Xu clan wished to relieve famine victims, feeding a few thousand would certainly be possible. But once the starving number in the tens of thousands, we would have to purchase grain. Yet the General has imposed an embargo in Jiangxi and southern Huguang — the Xu clan cannot buy grain even if we have the money! It is fortunate the drought last year was not severe; otherwise, this spring the price of rice in Jiangnan would have soared to at least five taels of silver per shi!"

The Taihu plain and its surrounding region had been the empire's foremost grain-producing base in the early Ming.

The rapid development of industry and commerce turned this grain-producing base into one whose grain output was no longer enough to feed itself, forcing it to buy rice from Huguang and Jiangxi.

Zhao Han's expansion had shattered this supply chain!

The reduced grain shipments out of Jiangxi and Hunan caused rice prices in Jiangnan to skyrocket. Workers and peasants could not afford grain — many peasants grew cotton to exchange for grain — creating a social imbalance of supply and demand, and destroying the ecology of both city and countryside.

At such a moment, for the court to impose additional taxes was nothing less than a death blow.

The great gentry clans of Suzhou, Songjiang, Changzhou, and Huzhou prefectures either engaged directly in industry and commerce or supplied raw materials to industry and commerce. How could they possibly remain unaffected?

By now it was no longer just grain prices exploding — overall social commodity prices were rising across the board!

In every prefecture of Jiangnan, whether landlords or merchants, all hoped to see this situation end as soon as possible. The economic ecosystem they had operated for over a hundred years had been thrown into complete chaos by Zhao Han.

"General, men are eating men!" Xu Nianzu cried out.

Zhao Han sighed. "There are too many great clans in Jiangnan. The resistance to land redistribution would be overwhelming."

Jiangxi, though plagued by severe land concentration, was a place of many mountains and little arable land; a clan holding tens of thousands of mu was already a super-clan.

But in Jiangnan, a single family, a single surname, might casually hold hundreds of thousands of mu!

This was the inevitable result of industrial and commercial prosperity. Capital not only caused good grain fields to be converted to cotton, it also caused wealth to rapidly concentrate in a handful of families. The richer these families became, the more they annexed land — a pattern that holds true the world over.

Xu Nianzu fell silent.

"Let me think it over further," Zhao Han did not refuse outright.

Xu Nianzu wanted to say more but was held back by his clansman Xu Fengcai, who feared angering Mr. Zhao.

Zhao Han waved his hand. "Go now."

The Xu brothers departed, and the three celebrated courtesans were invited in.

Zhao Han leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping the armrest, his mind entirely occupied with the Jiangnan question.

Plans cannot keep pace with change.

Since he first raised his army, not once had Zhao Han's military expansion plan ever been carried through to the end.

The Ming's decay, the Ming's fragility, surpassed anything Zhao Han had imagined. All his plans had been far too conservative.

"We pay our respects to Mr. Zhao!"

The three celebrated courtesans performed their salutations in unison.

"Sit," Zhao Han said offhandedly, still deep in thought over serious matters.

It was now late spring, and Zhao Han wore a cotton Daoist robe — that is, a Ming-style casual garment made of cotton cloth.

The attire was utterly ordinary, but the man wearing it was anything but.

The three courtesans had met many great figures — renowned scholars, eminent Confucians, even governors-general and governors. Yet none of them, truly none, possessed the commanding presence of Zhao Han. Just sitting there quietly, he projected an intense, oppressive force.

Abruptly, Zhao Han came back to himself and smiled. "My apologies, I was just pondering something."

As if solid ice had melted, that oppressive feeling vanished at once, and all three women relaxed simultaneously.

Wang Wei, the eldest, offered flattery: "Mr. Zhao handles a myriad affairs each day; you must have been contemplating some great matter under heaven."

"You actually guessed right," Zhao Han asked. "Tell me then — should I strike Jiangnan first, or Fujian first?"

The three women were struck dumb.

They excelled at poetry, painting, melody, and song, but had never once discussed such a topic with a patron.

Zhao Han smiled. "Don't be afraid of saying the wrong thing. Speak freely."

Lin Xue said, "This humble one is from Fujian, and hopes you will strike Fujian first, sir."

"Strike Jiangnan first!" Wang Wei and Liu Rushi spoke at the same moment.

Zhao Han asked, "Why strike Jiangnan first?"

"All the way through Jiangxi, we saw the common folk living and working in peace," Wang Wei replied. "Jiangnan is a land of taxes and wealth. Rather than let its silver fall into the hands of corrupt officials, better that you, Mr. Zhao, take it, so the common folk of Jiangnan can all live good days sooner, just like the common folk of Jiangxi."

Liu Rushi said, "Nanjing and Zhenjiang are still tolerable, but in the remote counties of Jiangnan, I hear the price of rice has already risen to three taels of silver. With prices soaring so high, how can the common folk afford to buy? If you do not send troops, Mr. Zhao, many in Jiangnan will starve to death this year. Two years ago, traveling from Songjiang to Suzhou, a journey of barely over a hundred li, I witnessed scenes of cannibalism three times. Had I not been escorted, I fear I would have been eaten too."

Jiangnan was too fragile — much money, little grain. Whenever natural disaster struck, famine was certain.

Zhao Han abruptly changed the subject and smiled. "You three have come to Jiangxi — what livelihood do you intend to pursue?"

Wang Wei said, "I wish to be a teacher at a girls' school."

Lin Xue said, "I am skilled at painting. I could draw illustrations for a publishing house."

"I… also wish to be a teacher at a girls' school," Liu Rushi said.

Zhao Han thought for a moment and said, "The Saomei Academy already has no shortage of female teachers. Jishui, Nanchang, Raozhou, Yanshan, Jiujiang — many places are preparing to open girls' schools. I can write a letter of recommendation. Take it with you and go. As for the publishing house, I can also write a letter of recommendation."

Liu Rushi suddenly asked, "Mr. Zhao, can women serve as officials in Jiangxi?"

"They can," Zhao Han said with a sigh, "but it is very difficult, and easily invites criticism."

Xiao Hong had already married. To accommodate her family, she no longer traveled about as a propagandist. Instead, she became the Registrar of Anfu County — equivalent to a county office director. This matter caused a stir last year; there were even pedantic types who went to the county yamen gate and posted big-character posters.

Zhao Han's Regional Commander headquarters also received a heap of petition letters, hoping he would forbid women from holding office.

Liu Rushi said hastily, "I was only asking casually."

Lin Xue immediately changed the subject. "Was The Legend of the Condor Heroes written by you, Mr. Zhao?"

"Ha," Zhao Han could not help laughing. "You've read that novel?"

"When it was reprinted two years ago, I drew illustrations for The Legend of the Condor Heroes," Lin Xue said. "The book bears two pen names: one is Li Zhuowu, the other is Zhao Ziyue. In recent years, it has been widely rumored that Zhao Ziyue is Mr. Zhao of Jiangxi."

Zhao Han could barely contain his amusement. "I doubt it was 'Mr. Zhao of Jiangxi.' Their original words were 'the rebel Zhao of Jiangxi.'"

Lin Xue did not take up that remark, but pressed on. "Was it truly written by you, Mr. Zhao?"

Zhao Han said, amused, "Back when I was a household slave for someone, I had no money, so I wrote novels to earn some brush-fee."

"You are truly a great talent, sir," Lin Xue said flatteringly.

Through the novel, Lin Xue had successfully made the atmosphere relaxed and congenial.

Liu Rushi pressed the advantage and asked, "It is said that you hold the xiucai degree, Mr. Zhao — is that true?"

"I sat the exam twice. Did not pass," Zhao Han said.

Wang Wei asked, "Is the gentleman well-versed in poetry?"

Zhao Han said with a smile, "I have not studied it deeply."

Famous courtesans have their own way of navigating the world. All three women were trying to tease out Zhao Han's points of interest.

They had no other motive; they simply wished to gain Zhao Han's patronage.

Liu Rushi had listened in on the entire conversation between Xu Ying and Zhang Pu that day. She asked, "I hear that at the age of fourteen, you caught the eye of the Jiangxi Director of Education, who wished to take you as his disciple?"

"That did happen," Zhao Han nodded.

Wang Wei and Lin Xue were both very surprised. They had assumed Zhao Han's learning was shallow; they never imagined he was a child prodigy.

For a provincial Director of Education to take the initiative in accepting a disciple was truly a rare event, because it was certain to invite criticism.

Liu Rushi's lips curved upward. "I suspect that you, Mr. Zhao, must be profoundly learned, and merely regard poetry as a minor side path, unworthy of discussion with others. Surely you have a few masterpieces?"

They understood "affairs of state" too, but only the same old clichés — rectifying official discipline, appointing men on merit.

There was no need to even mention those; Jiangxi had already accomplished them.

That left only steering the conversation toward poetry, which was the courtesans' strong suit.

Zhao Han smiled. "I do recall an old piece. I shall display my slight skill before three great experts. Sing no more of the Song of Everlasting Sorrow; this mortal world has its own Milky Way. In Stone Moat Village, husband and wife part — their tears outnumber those shed in the Palace of Long Life."

When the poem was finished, the three famous courtesans hurriedly rose. "Thank you for your instruction, sir!"

Their little schemes had been seen through by Zhao Han, and they had been gently rebuked by the poem as well. It told them, when they composed and sang in the future, to pay more heed to the sufferings of the common folk, and not to dwell only on emperors, generals, and tales of gifted scholars and beautiful ladies.

In presenting this poem, Zhao Han was also admonishing the literati under his rule.

Liu Rushi thought to herself: Mr. Zhao truly lives up to the name of child prodigy. He is indeed deeply versed in poetry, only he keeps it hidden in his heart without revealing a trace.

(End of chapter)