Chapter 31: There Is Substance

…

“Is there anything worth taking?”

“Your Majesty, if you truly dare to use Prince Shen’s prescription to treat our Great Song, even if it doesn’t cure the illness outright, it can at least greatly alleviate our nation’s grave ailments.”

“But the problem is, only an emperor like Qin Shi Huang, Han Wu Di, or Tang Taizong could possibly use Prince Shen’s prescription?”

Thus, faced with Zhao Xu’s inquiry, Zhang Dun, Han Zhongyan, and Ceng Bu all fell silent.

Zhao Xu was no fool; seeing Zhang Dun and the other three hesitate, he could easily guess that the “Land Reform Memorial” contained substance.

Zhao Xu said nothing, merely gazing quietly at Zhang Dun and the other three, waiting to see how long they would keep this from him.

Inside the hall, candlelight flickered, casting shadows over Zhao Xu’s furrowed brow and the solemn expressions of the three chief ministers of the Zhao Song dynasty. The air hung thick with suppressed, heavy tension, as if time itself had frozen in that moment.

Seeing that they could no longer avoid confronting the matter today, Zhang Dun sighed lightly and broke the oppressive silence: “Your Majesty, Prince Shen’s strategy strikes straight to the heart, pinpointing the very root of our Great Song’s accumulated ills. Yet implementing this strategy is like throwing a boulder into a still pond—waves will surge everywhere; without thunderous, overwhelming force, it cannot be controlled.”

Han Zhongyan then took up the thread, his tone gentle yet resolute: “As Chancellor Zhang has said, land consolidation is a chronic disease of every dynasty, not one formed in a day. To eradicate it fully will inevitably strike at the interests of countless nobles and elites—its difficulty is self-evident.”

Ceng Bu nodded slightly and added: “Moreover, the current situation is turbulent: external enemies surround us, while internal suffering runs rampant. A single misstep could ignite a fire that consumes us, threatening the very safety of the state. Thus, though we fully recognize the merits of this strategy, we dare not speak of it lightly—for fear of misleading Your Majesty, and worse, misleading the people.”

Zhao Xu understood. He cut straight to the point: “Is Prince Shen’s strategy feasible?”

Zhang Dun and Ceng Bu remained silent.

Seeing this, Han Zhongyan—the one least eager to implement the “Land Reform Memorial”—could no longer avoid taking a firm stand: “It is feasible, but it cannot be implemented. Reforming land policy touches upon interests too vast; without a flawless plan, rushing into it will surely spark rebellion and plunge the court into chaos.”

Zhao Xu could hardly believe it: “Could it be this severe?”

Han Zhongyan glanced at Zhang Dun—his meaning clear: “If you don’t want political upheaval, speak up now and dissuade His Majesty from adopting the ‘Land Reform Memorial.’”

The New Party was the ruling faction; as its leader, Zhang Dun naturally upheld the principle that stability outweighed all else.

So Zhang Dun also spoke in warning: “It is not that we are timid or cowardly—this matter is so interconnected that pulling one hair sets the whole body in motion. The court is riddled with entrenched networks; powerful clans hold deep roots. A single misstep could lead to catastrophic consequences.”

Only Ceng Bu, who aspired to become chancellor, offered a partial endorsement of Zhao Xu: “I believe we cannot immediately launch Prince Shen’s strategy with sweeping force, but we may pursue it gradually. Why not begin with small steps—testing it in remote prefectures and counties, accumulating experience slowly, while observing reactions from all sides?”

Zhang Dun dismissed this sharply: “In those remote prefectures, local officials are often colluding with regional gentry. Testing there will yield no results—only waste state resources.” He then pressed further: “Land reform must proceed slowly, not hastily. Let us wait. The urgent priority now is to strengthen the legal system, punish corruption severely, and restore proper governance—laying the groundwork for future reform.”

Han Zhongyan sneered: “Corruption crackdown? Your real target is still our Yuan You faction!” He countered immediately: “We could also open channels for free speech, encourage scholars to submit memorials, gather diverse opinions—and perhaps find a more stable path for reform.”

Ceng Bu spoke in vague platitudes: “Reform must have the people’s support. We should enact benevolent policies, lighten the people’s burdens, and win their backing. When the people are stable, the state is secure.”

Soon, Zhang Dun and the other two began arguing, hurling accusations at each other.

Seeing this, Zhao Xu felt both fury and helplessness: “My three chief ministers are less capable than a retired prince! All you do is create problems—you offer no solutions! What use are you?!!!”

Zhao Xu grew increasingly weary. He raised his hand to halt their bickering, and spoke slowly, his voice heavy with exhaustion and resentment: “Must our mighty Great Song stand helplessly by as this chronic illness grows worse—with no hope of relief?”

Zhang Dun and the other two knew exactly what Zhao Xu wanted to hear—but if they spoke it, even with a chance of success, they would be declaring war on the entire class of high officials, scholar-gentry, and powerful clans. A single misstep, and not only would they lose their lives, but the Zhao Song dynasty might collapse at once.

So they could not speak…

Outside the window, the night wind howled, rattling the window frames as if mourning the future of the Zhao Song dynasty.

Seeing Zhang Dun and the others powerless, Zhao Xu gazed out at the dark night beyond the hall, silently resolving that no matter how many obstacles lay ahead, he would find a path to save the Zhao Song dynasty—even if that path was strewn with thorns.

Yet he did not yet know that time was running out for him…

…

Zhao Yu had hinted at Zhao Xu precisely to make him realize that he, Zhao Yu, was more fit to inherit the throne than Zhao Ji or Zhao Shi. If history changed and Zhao Xu did not die so suddenly, perhaps he would voluntarily pass the throne to Zhao Yu—because only Zhao Yu could solve the Zhao Song dynasty’s problems and ensure its survival.

As for the ministers’ opinions?

Throughout history, in matters of imperial succession, the supreme decision-maker has always been deeply wary of ministers and never allowed them any opportunity to interfere.

This phenomenon is rooted in over two thousand years of autocratic monarchy.

Imperial power and chancellor power have always been in conflict.

Many ministers’ highest ideal was a vision of shared rule—chancellor power and imperial power governing the realm together. This was the enduring dream of Confucian scholars in feudal times.

Yet every emperor and supreme decision-maker insisted that chancellor power existed solely to serve imperial power—and must never oppose it.

Why did Yue Fei die? Part of the reason was his involvement in the matter of naming the crown prince.

This is also evident from the fact that Chancellor Zhang Dun’s remark—“Prince Duan is frivolous, unfit to rule the realm”—could not prevent Zhao Ji from ascending the throne.

Precisely because he understood this, Zhao Yu would never align with the New Party or the Old Party. He would stand only with imperial power—with Empress Xiang, the one who ultimately decided the emperor’s succession.

Zhao Yu drafted the “Land Reform Memorial” to show Empress Xiang and Zhao Xu that he possessed the ability to safeguard imperial power.

Unexpectedly, this caused Zhao Xu to suffer sleepless nights, accelerating the depletion of his already failing body.

By the way, Zhao Yu also learned from Zheng Xiansu and Wang Yisu that Han Zhongyan had visited Empress Xiang to discuss Zhao Yu’s political stance.

Empress Xiang spoke bluntly:

“Does only Prince Shen wish to reform? I wish to reform too!”

“The court can barely afford to pay salaries or military rations. Without reform, how can our Great Song survive?”

“If the skin is gone, how can the hair remain? If our Great Song falls, do you truly believe you alone will survive? I doubt it. Do not forget: ‘The streets are trodden with the bones of nobles.’ If our Great Song collapses, will there not be a second Huang Chao?”

“Who among you does not know that to cure our Great Song’s deep-rooted ills, land reform is the only solution? Yet you hesitate, fear to act, dare not even mention it to His Majesty.”

“Prince Shen merely voiced what you dared not tell His Majesty—what crime is that?”

“If you think Prince Shen’s strategy is unworkable, then propose a better one to save our Great Song!”

“Han Shipu, go outside and listen—everyone is saying that you three chief ministers care only for infighting and protecting your own interests, doing nothing!”

“… ”

“Prince Shen is merely a retired prince, not the emperor. Let him speak—what harm can it do? Can he truly influence the situation or stop your inaction?”

Han Zhongyan realized this was true. Why should he care what a retired prince’s political stance was, especially when Zhao Yu did not oppose his own Old Party? He left in silence.

Soon, those watching Zhao Yu noticed that he seemed only interested in selling soap and making money, paying no attention to court affairs. His earlier proposal of the “Land Reform Memorial” had merely been a warning to Zhao Xu—not a real attempt to act, and ultimately harmless…

…

(End of Chapter)