Chapter 381: Thunderclap

Taihe Hall.

The grand court session was only halfway through, with officials fiercely debating, when a battle report from the front shattered the deadlock.

Fu the Rebel is dead!

The White Lotus Rebellion, which had plagued the Great Yu for years, was drawing to a close.

The prosperous lands of Jiangnan had returned to Great Yu’s control.

Faced with this good news, the Emperor and his ministers all wore broad smiles.

“Reward them!”

“Ministry of War, verify the battle achievements swiftly and grant honors to those who served with merit!”

Emperor Yongning issued the order with grandeur.

In all his years on the throne, this was the easiest time he had ever had to hand out rewards.

The Ministry of Revenue, usually so quick to cry poverty, unusually did not object.

Rewards are one-time; tax revenue is continuous.

With the imperial army reclaiming Jiangnan, Great Yu’s fiscal income next year will rise dramatically.

With money in its coffers, the Ministry of Revenue can finally stand tall!

“Your Majesty, Jiangnan has just suffered war, and everything lies in ruins.

I humbly beg Your Majesty to exempt the eight provinces—Jiangxi, Zhejiang, Nanzhili, Huguang, Fujian, and the Two Guangs—from all taxes for the next three years.”

Left Censor-in-Chief Lai Yaohua was the first to propose this.

On the issue of tax exemptions, the Pure Stream faction had always been the vanguard.

At the start of his reign, Emperor Yongning would have agreed instantly.

After war, exempting taxes to let the people recover and rest sounded perfectly politically correct.

But the court simply had no money!

Though the rebel forces in Jiangnan had been crushed, Great Yu’s realm was far from truly peaceful.

Internally, rebels still ravaged Sichuan and Shanxi; externally, Annan invaded while the Northern Barbarians lurked hungrily.

Solving these problems all required money.

Exempting the eight provinces from taxes meant that, far from improving the treasury after reclaiming the territory, it would only deepen the financial burden.

During wartime, these eight provinces funded their own administration and military expenses.

Now that war had ended, their former high degree of autonomy must be reclaimed.

If the court exempts their taxes, then all administrative and military expenditures in these eight provinces must be paid by the central government.

“Minister Lai, this is mistaken!”

“Currently, these eight provinces are all collecting taxes themselves to fund the suppression of rebellion.

It was precisely these new taxes that enabled the suppression of the rebellion and sustained hundreds of thousands of troops.

If these taxes are waived, the court must allocate twenty-one million taels annually to cover their daily expenses.

Yet the Ministry of Revenue’s total income from all other provinces combined is less than twenty-one million taels.

Where will the massive fiscal deficit be filled?”

Pang Chengjie immediately rebutted.

Knowing the Pure Stream faction’s eloquence was unmatched, he chose not to argue—instead, he spoke only in figures.

No matter how reasonable the excuse for tax exemption, the court simply had no money to implement it.

“How could expenses be so high?”

“In the past, the combined administrative costs of these eight provinces never exceeded three or four million taels!”

Lai Yaohua’s question stirred agreement among the ministers.

After war, some increase in administrative spending was understandable—but not limitless.

Remember, in bad years, the entire Great Yu’s tax revenue barely reached twenty million taels.

“Ask the Ministry of War about this.”

Pang Chengjie spoke calmly.

War was the greatest money-sink; after a major conflict, military expenditure was inevitably the largest cost.

“Local garrison units were in ruins and useless; to suppress the rebels, we had to expand recruitment.

Six garrisons in the Two Guangs, five in Huguang, two each in Jiangxi and Zhejiang, three each in Nanzhili and Fujian—totaling twenty-one recruited garrisons.

Adding the governor's standard troops and naval forces, the total recruited troops in the eight southern provinces exceeded three hundred thousand.

The daily needs—food, lodging, sanitation, weapons, and equipment maintenance—cost roughly fifty taels per soldier annually, totaling sixteen million taels alone.

After the war, grain prices will gradually fall; military expenditure is expected to drop below fifteen million taels annually.”

Luo Zefeng spoke frankly.

Great Yu’s military spending had always been bizarre, with vast disparities in pay between different units.

Without doubt, the recruited troops raised by the noble factions were paid in full.

When civil officials held power, everyone suffered hardship; even when one’s own men were sent to the front, they still suffered—how could anyone be willing to fight and die?

Even newly raised units possessed considerable combat power, and the core reason was simple: the soldiers were fed.

“The main costs are clear—no further explanation from me is needed.

Postwar reconstruction requires money; increased spending is inevitable, and this portion cannot be cut.”

Pang Chengjie’s voice erupted like thunder through the court.

Especially the officials from the southeast could not accept it.

Originally, they had accepted the surtaxes partly out of survival pressure.

And partly because several Viceroy’s had promised that all new taxes were temporary, to be abolished once the rebellion was crushed.

But now, the Ministry of Revenue clearly intended to keep them.

If they were in the Minister of Revenue’s seat, they would do the same.

After enduring such pressure to extract money from the provinces, how could they simply stop collecting?

Even with massive provincial expenditures, the Ministry of Revenue still netted several million taels annually.

Moreover, the surtaxes imposed by the Viceroy’s targeted merchants, not commoners, making them high-quality revenue sources.

With the end of war and the revival of trade, these taxes would only continue to grow.

“Impossible!”

“This is robbing the people!”

“This is reckless militarism!”

“The war is over—why keep so many troops? Clearly, they intend to hold power by force!”

…

A chorus of objections filled the court.

Faced with the ministers’ fierce reaction, Emperor Yongning hesitated.

“Your Majesty, perhaps let Minister Pang explain the tax composition of the southern provinces?”

Wan Junhui gently suggested.

The Chief Grand Secretary’s role was hard—balancing the Emperor’s interests and those of the ministers.

From the court’s standpoint, the commercial taxes had been hard-won and must not be canceled.

But the ministers’ stance could not be ignored.

These men in the court represented the gentry class.

Merchants were the gentry’s purse—merely hidden behind the scenes for the sake of reputation.

“Agreed.”

Emperor Yongning immediately approved.

He too wanted to understand how the noble faction’s Viceroy’s had been operating in the south—and how severely they had exploited the people.

“The tax systems of the eight southern provinces differ in detail, but are fundamentally consistent.

Though called ‘lijin,’ they are in essence taxes.

Categories include land tax, commercial tax, salt tax, tea tax, customs duty, mining tax, liquor tax, and iron tax; others like head tax and broker tax are negligible and may be omitted.

Land tax converted to silver amounts to about seven million taels, primarily due to wartime factors, and may increase in the future.

But much of it is collected in kind; after grain prices fall, the silver equivalent will decrease further.

The actual growth depends on real conditions.

Salt tax: about six million taels; customs duty: about 6.8 million taels; commercial tax: about five million taels; mining tax: about 2.3 million taels; liquor and tea tax combined: 1.8 million taels; iron tax: about one million taels; other miscellaneous taxes total two million taels.

The total fiscal revenue of the eight provinces is roughly thirty-two million taels.

In our dynasty, this is a record—but still far behind the Song.

Of course, these figures are estimates by the Ministry of Revenue; actual amounts may vary.

For example, salt tax is collected directly by the court.

After the war, newly established salt fields along the coast must also come under court control.

Whether the funding for the twenty-one newly raised garrisons comes primarily from central allocation or provincial assistance must be decided.

Only after these are settled can we determine the tax allocation between the court and provincial administrations.”

Pang Chengjie spoke calmly.

Seeing the ministers’ astonished expressions, he was thoroughly satisfied.

In fact, when he first received the data, he was stunned by the financial acumen of several marquises and dukes from the noble faction.

But given the precedent of the Song Dynasty, he no longer found it strange.

Back then, the Southern Song controlled only a fraction of territory—not much larger than these eight provinces—yet its tax revenue far exceeded this.

“My loyal ministers, you are truly the pillars of my realm!”

While the ministers were still in shock, the thrifty Yongning Emperor spoke first.

With this level of revenue, even if it meant oppressive taxation, he would accept it.

The new taxes were concentrated on customs duties, commercial taxes, mining taxes, and tea and alcohol taxes; land taxes were actually reduced.

Though it contradicted his own earlier stance—he had abolished tax supervisors upon ascending the throne, reducing mining and commercial taxes to nearly zero.

The high customs duties clearly contradicted the maritime ban policy.

But before such massive revenues, these minor issues were forgivable.

Deep within, the Yongning Emperor couldn’t help but sigh: at critical moments, family still proved most reliable.

“Your Majesty, such oppressive taxation will drive the people to despair!”

“I humbly beg Your Majesty to remove the posts of Marquis Wuyang, Duke Chengguo, and Marquis Zhenyuan, and order the Embroidered Uniform Guard to arrest them…”

Before Lu Guoheng, the Censor-in-Chief, could finish speaking, the Yongning Emperor rose from his dragon throne.

“Embroidered Uniform Guard, seize this traitorous minister and interrogate him severely!”

Faced with the emperor’s fury, the ministers preparing to impeach froze in place.

It wasn’t that they lacked courage—mainly because Lu Guoheng spoke without any thought.

Opposing taxation? He chose the worst possible argument.

Elevating it to a political level, he accused loyal ministers of baseless crimes—easily interpreted as the court preparing to discard its tools after use.

To the Great Yu Dynasty, Marquis Wuyang, Duke Chengguo, and Marquis Zhenyuan were heroes who had turned the tide in times of crisis.

If the emperor did not betray them, all was well; but if he did, future historians would record it in vivid, damning detail.

Even if they tried to cover it up, the dozens of officials present would surely document it upon returning home.

The people’s records would be even more numerous, likely inventing entire stories to go with it.

Whoever dared to join in now, when the truth emerged, would be remembered as the Qin Hui of the Great Yu Dynasty.

The prospect of eternal infamy—even among the clean-stream officials—was something they avoided at all costs.

The ministers feared being branded villains; the Yongning Emperor feared it too.

If he made no response, the outside world would assume it was his will—the political consequences would be unthinkable.

(End of Chapter)