Chapter 212: The Backbone of My Great Song Ministers

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After proposing the policy of equal taxation for scholar-gentry and peasants and the merging of head tax into land tax, Chen Gongfu felt no tension, let alone fear.

First, he was an upright man who believed the equal taxation and head-tax merger were sound strategies to strengthen the state, so he spoke with unshakable conviction and no trace of fear.

Second, as a top imperial examination graduate, he was no fool—he understood perfectly well that Zhao Yu had ordered this, and Zhao Yu had always been an emperor of great responsibility who would never abandon him, even if he suffered temporary injustice; eventually, Zhao Yu would compensate him tenfold or a hundredfold.

Thus, Chen Gongfu had nothing to fear.

The one truly tense person was Zhao Yu.

Zhao Yu knew very well that if he did not implement the equal taxation and head-tax merger, with the foundation he had already laid, as long as he avoided major mistakes, he could live out his life in comfort; moreover, merely by reclaiming Longyou, reclaiming Western Xia, and at least reclaiming the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan-Yun, plus the scientific achievements of Ma Xiao Jiao and the agricultural breakthroughs of Yuan Qing Cheng during his reign, his historical reputation would be outstanding.

Conversely, implementing the equal taxation and head-tax merger—a policy that struck at the interests of the scholar-gentry class and the very foundation of the Zhao Song dynasty—was the real threat that could shake his realm and throne, turning him into a controversial monarch, even a despised one.

After all, the scholar-gentry class had long held the power of discourse; they were society's elite, cultural inheritors, and the bridge between court and people.

Since ancient times, the scholar-gentry class had enjoyed privileges of tax and corvée exemption; this tradition ran deep, and disturbing it would ripple through the entire system.

Zhao Yu knew full well that once he touched this sensitive nerve, it would trigger court turmoil, possibly provoking fierce backlash from the scholar-gentry class, leading to national instability—or even collapse.

Zhao Yu had also considered the thought: "After my death, let the floods rage!"

But as a transmigrator, a monarch who had thus far been remarkably successful, Zhao Yu truly wished to resolve this problem in his own generation—to leave his descendants not necessarily an eternal realm and throne, but at least a century-long foundation, and certainly not a colossal mess.

Crucially, it wasn't arrogance on Zhao Yu's part—if he couldn't solve these problems, his descendants certainly couldn't, and the Zhao Song dynasty would eventually collapse under these entrenched, incurable burdens.

Thus, after careful deliberation, Zhao Yu decided to give it a try.

Now that Chen Gongfu had thrown this bomb, Zhao Yu immediately scanned the expressions of the ministers, especially the chancellors, to gauge their true stance on implementing the equal taxation and head-tax merger.

The once relaxed and cheerful court had instantly frozen; even the air seemed heavier. The chancellors either bowed their heads in thought or their eyes flickered with complex, unreadable glimmers.

Zhao Yu first looked at Zhang Dun.

There, the iron-fisted chancellor had his brows tightly knitted, weighing pros and cons, silently calculating the potential consequences of this policy. His gaze occasionally met Zhao Yu's—filled with both reverence for Zhao Yu and deep concern for the state of affairs.

The Chief of the Privy Council, Ceng Bu, famed for his cunning and adaptability, wore a faint, barely perceptible smile—as if he had anticipated this sudden turn. Yet no one knew what thoughts lay behind that smile. He lightly stroked the jade tablet in his hand, his eyes darting, as if calculating how to preserve his position amid the coming storm.

Vice Chancellor Han Zhongyan, leader of the conservative faction, wore a face clouded with worry; he showed no expression of surprise whatsoever. Clearly, he had foreseen this day—perhaps he simply hadn't expected it to come so soon.

The expressions of the other chancellors were much the same: not surprised, yet unsure how to respond.

In truth, these seasoned chancellors all knew the Zhao Song dynasty's core ailments and had guessed that Zhao Yu—the emperor who had already plotted land reform while still a prince—would strike at this greatest weakness when his prestige was at its peak.

At the same time, all these chancellors understood the consequences of implementing the equal taxation and head-tax merger and the resistance it would face.

Thus, all the chancellors remained silent.

The chancellors dared not speak out, let alone the other ministers. Even if they were as anxious as ants on a hot pan, terrified that from now on they and their families would have to pay massive taxes annually, none dared become the first to speak out.

Every official in the Daqing Hall was a seasoned fox—how could they not know that Chen Gongfu was merely a pawn, and the true force pushing the equal taxation and head-tax merger was Zhao Yu, the emperor whose prestige was so towering no one could threaten his throne?

Crucially, everyone knew Zhao Yu sought to implement this policy to save the Zhao Song dynasty; if it succeeded without triggering massive backlash, the state could indeed shed its accumulated corruption and achieve lasting stability. But if anyone publicly opposed it—even if Zhao Yu said nothing now—he would surely destroy that man, banishing his entire family from office forever.

Thus, all the ministers remained silent.

Zhao Yu observed all these reactions, and frankly, he was growing impatient: "Come on, give me an answer—yes or no?"

Yet Zhao Yu also understood: if even he, the one pushing for the equal taxation and head-tax merger, was so cautious, how much more so would these chancellors and ministers be?

After thinking it over, Zhao Yu decided: "I'll ask them one by one—otherwise, these bastards might keep pretending to be mute."

With that, Zhao Yu spoke clearly: "What do you, my ministers, think?"

After saying this, Zhao Yu fixed his gaze on Zhang Dun, signaling him to speak.

Zhang Dun hesitated, then said: "This matter… involves too many factors; it must be handled with extreme caution."

'Saying nothing at all.'

Zhao Yu mentally sighed and turned to Ceng Bu.

Ceng Bu replied smoothly: "This policy is indeed a sound strategy to strengthen the state, yet it contradicts ancestral precedent. If implemented hastily, it may provoke unrest. The peace of our state was hard-won; this move could trigger turmoil and shake our foundations. After deep reflection, I dare not make a hasty judgment—I am deeply concerned for the state and fear failing Your Majesty's trust. I humbly beg Your Majesty to pardon my hesitation!"

Zhao Yu, dissatisfied, shifted his gaze from Ceng Bu to Han Zhongyan.

Han Zhongyan sighed inwardly, then said: "I… support this policy. Yet my abilities are meager; I fear failing Your Majesty's trust and dare not assume such a heavy responsibility."

Zhao Yu nodded inwardly: 'As leader of the conservatives, for Han Zhongyan to voice support for the equal taxation and head-tax merger is no small thing.' Zhao Yu then turned to Cai Jing.

He was the chancellor Zhao Yu most hoped would step forward. Zhao Yu believed that if Cai Jing would take on this task, the equal taxation and head-tax merger stood the best chance of success.

But to Zhao Yu's disappointment, Cai Jing remained silent for a long while before speaking: "I… oppose it. I believe this policy, though noble in intent and aimed at eradicating deep-seated corruption and revitalizing the court, is premature. To implement it rashly may harm court and public harmony and shake the state's foundation. The scholar-gentry class has, since ancient times, been the backbone of the state; sudden reform risks provoking their discontent and inciting chaos. Moreover, folk customs are deeply rooted; abruptly altering the land tax system may destabilize public sentiment and disrupt agriculture, harming the state. I dare to respectfully advise: while the state's accumulated corruptions must be purged, the methods must be carefully weighed, lest haste and short-term gains trigger broader turmoil. It is better to proceed gradually."

To ensure Zhao Yu understood, Cai Jing added: "Your Majesty's virtue shines brightly, comparable to Tang Yao; you govern the people with benevolent rule, letting the realm bask in spring breeze. Your wisdom rivals Yu Shun; with sagacious thought, you manage myriad affairs, granting the nine provinces sweet dew. Your might equals Da Yu; you restored Xia, defeated Liao, and secured the realm. Your clarity matches Cheng Tang; you cleansed corruption and revived the state. Since Your Majesty's ascension, governance has been clear, the people harmonious, all industries flourishing, the sun and moon brightening, the rivers and mountains renewed—you are a sage ruler unparalleled in history! Your ministers are blessed to follow you, truly a fortune of three lifetimes! The memorial by Chancellor Chen may be a misguided policy; I humbly implore Your Majesty to reflect thrice before acting!"

Zhao Yu understood Cai Jing's meaning.

Cai Jing was essentially saying: "Your Majesty, you have already achieved greatness—your civil and military accomplishments are unmatched. Pursue other avenues, and you will surely be remembered as a sage emperor of all ages. But do not touch land reform. The resistance is too great; even if you succeed, the scholar-gentry class controls discourse, and you will leave no good reputation. Worse, one misstep could destroy your legacy. Is it not wiser to avoid this risk?"

Though Cai Jing openly opposed him, at this critical moment, such a shrewd man, knowing Zhao Yu's intent, still dared to advise him—it was rare and commendable.

More importantly, Cai Jing was right: if Zhao Yu truly carried this out, he might be lucky to receive a mixed historical judgment.

In fact, Zhang Dun, Ceng Bu, and even Han Zhongyan—who supported the policy—were all thinking exactly what Cai Jing had said.

In short, they all wanted to say three words: unnecessary.

But Zhao Yu was only "twenty years old"—he was still young and did not wish to lie down and rest. He had his own political ambitions.

'In my last life, I had no stage to act upon, so I lived a meaningless existence. In this life, I lack nothing—I've already gained everything: I've slept with the Empress, the Empress Dowager, more than one. If I still act as I did in my past life—knowing this is right, yet hesitating out of fear of failure—what meaning does this reincarnation hold?!'

Zhao Yu turned his gaze from Cai Jing to Xu Xu.

Xu Xu bowed and said: "I support this policy. Yet I fear failing Your Majesty's trust and dare not take the lead in such a heavy responsibility. But if Your Majesty entrusts me with this task, I will not shirk—even at the cost of my life."

Zhao Yu nodded at Xu Xu, satisfied with his response.

Zhao Yu turned to Zhang Shangying.

Zhang Shangying bowed and said: "I concur."

Zhao Yu nodded at Zhang Shangying as well.

Zhao Yu turned to Li Qingchen.

Li Qingchen bowed and said: "I support Chancellor Cai's opinion."

Zhao Yu looked at the last two remaining in court—Chancellor Cai Bian and Su Shi.

Zhao Yu looked at them last not because their rank was lower than the other chancellors, but because he had the greatest expectations for them. They were also, after Cai Jing, the two he most favored to implement the policy of equal taxation for scholar-gentry and peasants and the merging of head tax into land tax.

When implementing the Green Sprouts Law, Cai Bian decisively opened the state granaries to lend grain to the people, alleviating their urgent plight and curbing the arrogance of unlawful wealthy elites. In actively participating in the formulation and enforcement of new policies, he faced pressure and challenges from all sides without retreating, steadfastly upholding his political stance. He was upright by nature, adhering to principles and convictions. As a censor, he did not shy away from powerful figures, impeaching incompetent and morally corrupt officials—including relatives of the reigning chancellor. Moreover, he demonstrated considerable political cunning in factional struggles.

All of this aligned with the character of a strong political figure.

Only such a person could withstand the immense pressure from the powerful scholar-gentry class and implement the policy of equal taxation for scholar-gentry and peasants and the merging of head tax into land tax.

As for Su Shi? Though he was the leader of the conservative Old Party, Zhao Yu believed his thinking had not become rigid; deep within, he must have long harbored profound concern for the people and anxiety for the nation's future. On the issue of implementing Wang Anshi's new policies, he had hesitated and opposed them—but that was because he upheld his ideal of benevolent governance, unwilling to see the people suffer under policies driven by short-term gains. The policies of equal taxation for scholar-gentry and peasants and the merging of head tax into land tax were both sound measures to lighten the people's burden and promote social equity. Zhao Yu felt that, unless Su Shi was merely seeking fame, he would not disappoint him.

Seeing Zhao Yu's gaze settle on him, Cai Bian straightened his robe and said clearly: "The rise and fall of the state rests on every man's shoulders. I humbly request to implement this policy, to ease the burdens of Your Majesty and the nation—even if I must face fire and water, I will not hesitate!"

Su Shi responded without yielding: "I petition to implement this policy. Even if I am disgraced and my body shattered, I will see this wise strategy for securing the state and stabilizing the realm carried through—failure is not an option; I will die for it!"

Zhao Yu looked at Cai Bian and Su Shi and praised loudly: "With ministers like these, how could the Great Song fail to flourish!!!"

Whether moved by Cai Bian and Su Shi's words, finally resolved, or realizing that without supporting Zhao Yu's policies, his position as chancellor would not last, Zhang Dun stepped forward and bowed: "The memorial submitted by Chancellor Chen is an unrivaled strategy for strengthening the state. I request to oversee this policy, dividing the equal taxation for scholar-gentry and peasants and the merging of head tax into land tax into two separate tasks, assigning one to Chancellor Cai and the other to Minister Su."

Zhao Yu understood: Zhang Dun meant that should anything go wrong, he would take the blame on himself.

To be honest, the reactions of the chancellors had far exceeded Zhao Yu's expectations.

Most importantly, the policy of equal taxation for scholar-gentry and peasants and the merging of head tax into land tax—sure to face immense difficulties—could now move forward.

This filled Zhao Yu with deep satisfaction. He thought: 'Ming and Qing ministers either became timid, cautious shadows, mere echo chambers, or in times of crisis, shirked responsibility to protect themselves—truly lacking in duty and backbone. In contrast, my Great Song: Fan Zhongyan lived by "grieve before others grieve, rejoice after others rejoice," personally guarding the borders and reforming court affairs; Wang Anshi pushed reforms with the courage of "three no-fears," undaunted by slander; Su Shi, even in exile, managed waterworks and repaired dikes to benefit the people. They could argue fiercely in court and yet root themselves in the provinces to get things done—bearing the responsibility of "establishing the heart of heaven and earth," yet daring to break old norms. This was something Ming and Qing ministers could never match.'

Zhao Yu wasted no more words, nor did he ask the opinions of ordinary ministers; he issued a direct edict: "Zhang Dun, Cai Bian, and Su Shi remain. The rest are dismissed…"

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(End of Chapter)