Chapter 257: Bringing Peace to the People

The Battle of Kunyang took place on the first day of the sixth month. On the second day, Grand Minister of Works Wang Yi, leading his remnant troops, was retreating toward Luoyang, while Dou Rong was still fleeing westward.

In Chang'an, Diwu Lun had just finished distributing gold-cake army pay to his soldiers and completed the public trial of the people's despoilers. He was still gazing east with longing, saying, "Where is my Xiuer?"

Although Diwu Lun did not yet know that victory in the east was already decided, after these two great tasks — "steadying the army's heart and following the people's will" — were accomplished, he slept far better than the previous two nights.

On the third day of the sixth month, after rising, the first thing Diwu Lun did was leave the military camp and go into Chang'an city to pay a visit to someone.

It was certainly not Wang Yan, the Huanghuang House Mistress of the Ding'an Hostel. Among those Diwu Lun planned to visit, she had to be placed far at the back. If Wang Yan were a proper "Empress Dowager of the Former Dynasty," her status would be rather special — but an Empress Dowager of the dynasty before the former one... well, that left only awkwardness.

The first person Diwu Lun visited was the former Gonggong, Song Hong, who had properly safeguarded several hundred thousand gold cakes on his behalf.

When he arrived before the gate of the Song residence in Shangguan Ward, Song Hong did not come out to greet him. It was his wife who emerged. Though one must not judge people by appearance, Song's wife was indeed somewhat homely. As far as Diwu Lun knew, the Song Hong family was also a gentry magnate clan of the Guanzhong region — three generations had served as Privy Treasurer, a lucrative post! For a man of two-thousand-dan rank and provincial governor, having a homely wife at home was truly a bizarre thing.

Yet Song's wife was also courteous and poised, neither servile nor overbearing. After ushering Diwu Lun and his retinue inside, they saw Song Hong sitting in the courtyard dressed entirely in plain white mourning clothes.

"Sir Song, is this... mourning for the Xin?" The old king's life or death was still unknown — wasn't this a bit early?

Song Hong shook his head. "These are my own funeral garments."

He looked at Diwu Lun. "General, have you come intending to try me as a people's despoiler as well?"

"Sir Song, your misunderstanding of me runs deep."

Diwu Lun said, "A few days ago, when the great army first entered the city, orders were unclear, and some men actually burst into Shangguan Ward, startling and disturbing Sir Song. That was Diwu Lun's fault. But please rest assured, Sir Song — the several hundred men who violated the law have all been executed! Their heads hang above the watchtowers and camp gates as a warning to others. Killed alongside them were over a thousand new recruits and young bravos who committed outrages in the chaos. Order in the city has been restored to strictness."

This was the truth, and Song Hong could not deny it. Diwu Lun had overcome his superiors and marched his army into the city, yet there had been no mass burning, killing, or looting. This military discipline was far better than that of the Xin Dynasty's royal forces.

"As for the people's despoilers publicly tried yesterday," Diwu Lun smiled, "each had committed grave crimes against the people. The common folk wished they could eat their flesh raw. When those men were alive, Sir Song ordinarily disdained to associate with them. Now that they are dead, would you willingly lower yourself to share a seat with them?"

Song Hong remained silent. Had it not been Diwu Lun, the rebel leader, who killed them, he too would have gone to watch and applauded with satisfaction.

Diwu Lun bowed to Song Hong with clasped hands. "I have come today to ask Sir Song to save the people of Chang'an!"

Song Hong merely lowered his head and said, "Chang'an has the Grand General Who Pacifies the People to save it. How could the task fall to a guilty man like me?"

Diwu Lun sighed. "Sir Song, from the day I raised the banner of righteousness at Hongmen and Wang Mang ordered Chang'an under martial law, the grain shops of the Eastern and Western Markets have been cut off from supply for ten days now!"

"How many days can a person last without food?"

Song Hong finally raised his head.

Diwu Lun said, "The prohibition has been lifted, but the Guanzhong region is now in the chaos of war, and grain cannot be transported in. The price of rice is nearing ten thousand cash per dan! Those with grain stored at home are still all right, but those without are already starving, on the verge of desperate recklessness."

Song Hong sneered. "When all this is traced to its root, is it not the General who has brought the calamity of war to Guanzhong?"

Diwu Lun shook his head. "In the ten-odd years since the Xin was established, grain has risen from several hundred cash per dan to a thousand cash per dan — that is not my doing. Guandong is already in chaos. Does Sir Song believe that even without me, the flames of war would never have reached Guanzhong?"

Song Hong fell silent. The reason grain in Guanzhong was so expensive was that supply could not meet demand.

Diwu Lun drew from his sleeve the bamboo-strip booklets he carried with him and showed them to Song Hong. "I have consulted the household registers and found that the last census was still in the Shijianguo era. Chang'an then had eighty thousand eight hundred households, with a population of two hundred forty-six thousand two hundred."

Adding the floating population and the Northern and Southern Army troops stationed there, the total was around three hundred thousand-odd. That might not seem like much by later standards, but in this era, it meant using low productivity to supply three hundred thousand artisans, merchants, officials, scholars, and soldiers who did not farm. Was the tax grain collected from one commandery enough? Even ten commanderies would not suffice!

It was the same in every dynasty and every age: the prosperity of the capital city was sustained by the ceaseless transfusion of resources from the surrounding commanderies and counties.

Although Guanzhong had enjoyed the reputation of "Heaven's Storehouse" since ancient times, by the time of Emperor Wu of Han, the population had exploded, and the grain produced locally could no longer meet demand. They had to consider shipping a batch of grain from Guandong via water routes to supply the capital, Chang'an. Thus the Wei River channel was dredged, and at Huayin County, the eastern end of the water route, the "Capital Granary" was established, its function being to transship supplies.

Boatload after boatload of transshipped grain then continued westward to Chang'an and was stored in the "Grand Granary" near the palace complex. Wang Mang also established the Five Price-Equalization Officers to stabilize grain prices.

After hearing this, Song Hong said, "The Grand Granary is not under the jurisdiction of the Gonggong Office. The General has found the wrong man."

"Correct — it is under the jurisdiction of the Nayan (Grand Minister of Agriculture)."

"Our army has already taken over the Grand Granary. At present, there are still several hundred thousand dan of grain there."

Diwu Lun recalled that when the soldiers opened the doors of the Grand Granary and entered, they were truly stunned. Outside, the common people were eating the fodder of dogs and swine, and countless refugees had starved to death — yet inside the palace, grain was piled high as mountains. This infuriated the soldiers, most of whom came from refugee and tenant-farmer backgrounds, and they hanged yet another batch of Grand Granary grain officials.

But those Grand Granary officials were indeed wronged. The capital's grain reserves were primarily for supplying the imperial palace and the army — Diwu Lun's southern expedition army of tens of thousands, for instance. The livelihood of the common people had to come second.

Diwu Lun smiled. "Our army still has tens of thousands of dan of grain at Xinfeng, enough for our own use. Therefore, I intend to release two hundred thousand dan of grain from the Grand Granary so that the people of Chang'an need not starve. My Anji Yuan, Ren Boqing, can manage the army provisions for forty thousand men well enough, but if we add the troops outside the city and the refugee families, the total around Chang'an is four hundred thousand people..."

He looked at Song Hong. "That requires the assistance of a senior official familiar with the wards and lanes of Chang'an and experienced in managing funds and grain."

Song Hong now understood what Diwu Lun had come for today.

"The General flatters me." Song Hong no longer addressed Diwu Lun as a rebel at every turn, as he had in the previous days. He merely declined politely: "I have already overseen the inner treasury for the new emperor for ten years. Now I am unburdened and at ease, and do not intend to sell grain for anyone."

"Sell grain?"

Diwu Lun laughed heartily. "Sir Song misunderstands. It is not selling — it is distributing grain! I would call it... relief grain!"

Song Hong truly had not expected this. He had assumed Diwu Lun meant to use the opportunity to amass wealth; who would have thought he said he intended to do good deeds?

In fact, Wang Mang had done something similar. Last year, when several hundred thousand refugees entered the passes, Wang Mang thereupon appointed relief officers to feed them. The enterprise was overseen by the Palace Attendant of the Inner Yellow Gate, Wang Ye — the very man Diwu Lun had beheaded as a blood sacrifice to the banners. As a result, the envoys colluded with Chang'an officials, skimming off layer after layer, so that the food that reached the starving people was pitifully little. In the end, they had to boil grass and tree bark into paste.

"And Wang Ye carried a bowl of meat broth to show Wang Mang, telling him, 'The people's food is just like this.'"

Diwu Lun recounted this muddle-headed affair of Wang Mang's, comparable to "Why don't they eat meat?" Then he said to Song Hong, "Now I am the one doing this, but the men handling it will still be the officials from Wang Mang's time. They cannot suddenly turn from foul to pure."

"Although I could have our soldiers hold blades to the petty officials' necks to coerce them, we still need an upright man to take charge. Sir Song has always loved the people and is thoroughly versed in funds and grain. The Gonggong Office was, after all, the cleanest bureau in the Xin. You are worthy of this task. Surely Sir Song does not wish to see the tragedy of four or five out of every ten starving people dying of hunger play out once again?"

The ongoing tragedy of corpses strewn by the roadside over the past year or so was indeed not Song Hong's wish.

With the conversation having reached this point, Song Hong neither agreed nor refused. Only a look of perplexity remained in his eyes. Diwu Lun's generosity surprised him somewhat. He merely studied this young ambitious man, wondering what exactly he was scheming...

Buying the hearts of the people? But to spend several hundred thousand dan of grain in one breath — that was indeed a very steep price.

Diwu Lun met Song Hong's gaze directly. "Sir Song, my purpose truly is nothing more than to bring peace to the people!"

When Diwu Lun walked out of the Song residence, the aloof Song Hong did not see him off, but his homely wife came to the gate and bowed to him. Diwu Lun turned and bowed with clasped hands in return. After boarding his carriage, he had Ren Guang, who had accompanied him, ride in the same vehicle.

"My lord, did Song Hong agree?" Ren Guang was naturally very concerned about this matter. It was a heavy responsibility Diwu Lun had entrusted to him.

"Song Hong is a stubborn gentleman," Diwu Lun said. "If I directly summoned him to serve under me, the hurdle in his heart has not yet faded — he would absolutely refuse."

Therefore, he could not be lured with profit and emolument; he had to be softened with benevolence and righteousness. Using "bringing peace to the people" as the reason, Song Hong was still willing, however grudgingly, to come out and do something. And with this kind of thing, once there was a first time, there would be a second.

Diwu Lun truly needed Song Hong to come out of retirement far too much. If his old core team from Wei Commandery were here, Diwu Lun would have many alternative candidates. Geng Chun, for instance — his old profession was managing grain, and his heart was black, blacker even than Diwu Lun's.

With Feng Qin and others assisting, it would be enough to handle this matter.

But after entering Chang'an, the manpower around Diwu Lun was stretched to the limit; one man had to serve as several. Take Ren Guang: on one hand, he had to sort through the mountain of documents piled up in the various government offices, and on the other, Diwu Lun had assigned him the task of distributing grain. He was unfamiliar with Chang'an, and without Song Hong's help, this task truly could not be accomplished.

What, you ask where the Xin Dynasty's Nayan (Grand Minister of Agriculture) is? Trapped in Wancheng — it is none other than Yan You, who has the nominal relationship of teacher and student with Diwu Lun.

As for the deputy head of the Nayan Office, he fled with Wang Mang and died amid the chaos of the troops. The next several down the hierarchy were precisely the accomplices who, together with Wang Ye, created the infamous scene of "Why don't they eat meat broth?" Many were executed as people's despoilers. As for those who remain — could they be used with confidence?

Besides, Song Hong once served as Governor of Bing Province and will be of great use in the future. Diwu Lun thought to himself, if he could trade two hundred thousand dan of grain for Song Hong's trust, or even his allegiance, that would be a hugely profitable deal.

What was more, if this matter were handled well, it could also earn an excellent impression among the people of Chang'an.

But Ren Guang cautiously brought up: "General, though our army has now driven out Wang Mang, the territory we control is merely the three commanderies of Liewei and Jingwei north of the Wei River, and Guangwei south of it. Many counties have merely raised our banner in name, but are actually controlled by powerful local clans. Collecting taxes will likely prove difficult."

"The grain stored in the Great Granary, if we ration it, can at least last until the autumn harvest. Why must we move grain and distribute it on such a large scale?"

In his view, it would be better not to distribute grain at all, and simply let the common folk tighten their belts. Once Diwu Lun's army captured a few more commanderies after autumn, grain supplies could be restored. If the military offensives did not go smoothly, this autumn and winter would likely be hard to endure. However grateful the people of Chang'an were to Diwu Lun while eating his grain for free, they would later forget it completely and wish they could devour his flesh.

"It doesn't matter."

Diwu Lun glanced at Ren Guang. "Wan Xiu and Peng Chong have already set out eastward, one after the other, to seize the Huayin Capital Granary. There should still be a fair amount of grain stored there."

That was not necessarily certain, but Diwu Lun's true plan was not something he wished to explain to Ren Guang just yet.

The several hundred thousand people of the capital meant several hundred thousand mouths to feed, and they were primarily artisans, merchants, soldiers, and officials — very few farmed their own land to be self-sufficient. Each month they needed to consume five to six hundred thousand dan of grain.

In times of peace, their need for food and clothing was the driving force behind commercial circulation, with carts and boats carrying grain from across the realm rushing here.

But now, in times of chaos, commerce was severed and regions were fragmented. The bellies of the capital's people had become a vast, unfillable pit, and an enormous burden for any regime. Although Diwu Lun had driven off a pack of imperial relatives and executed many old vermin who preyed on the people, confiscating their property and grain, it was merely a drop in the bucket.

With continuous conscription and eastern campaigns, Wang Mang had already driven Guanzhong's agriculture and grain supply to the brink of collapse. Worst of all, the currency system had collapsed too.

Old Wang had simply dusted off his backside and fled, leaving this mess to Diwu Lun — no matter who entered Chang'an, the burden would fall upon their shoulders. The grain problem was very much like the major essay question on the imperial examination for entering the capital, carrying enormous weight in the score.

Diwu Lun wanted a high score, and his answering strategy was simple and brutal: distribute grain!

Let the people in and around Chang'an live through a month or two of such warmth and plenty that they would never forget it for the rest of their lives! So comfortable that everyone in the capital would chant the praises of General Diwu! Wishing he would never leave the land of Qin.

But the outcome was also inevitable: eating next year's grain this year — sooner or later, it would all be gone.

"Then let us sit and eat until the mountain is empty," Diwu Lun said in his heart. Hidden behind this matter was a dark, one might even say cruel, decision, which made him feel that calling himself "Pacifier of the People" was somewhat ironic.

Diwu Lun had just returned to the military camp when the Seventh Biao came to pay his respects.

He first reported on the situation in Liewei Commandery — basically the entire commandery had responded to Diwu Lun and took his orders as final. After finishing his report, however, he lingered awkwardly and did not leave. Diwu Lun therefore raised his head: "Is there something else?"

Brother Biao had rendered no small merit north of the Wei River, capturing two counties. In the days since entering the capital, he had been fairly well-behaved, not clamoring to sleep with the Emperor's consorts or divide up the valuables. Yet the reason he was so indifferent to these things was that in the Seventh Biao's heart, a great matter had been brewing all along!

The Seventh Biao had wanted to speak of it for a long time. These past few days he had waited and waited, yet surprisingly no one had brought up that matter. He grew anxious, and also secretly delighted that he might be the first to claim the honor.

Today, he finally gritted his teeth and fell to his knees with a thud: "Clan Master, now that Wang Mang has been driven away and the palace halls stand empty, the realm is without a master. And the Clan Master has the great merit of punishing the tyrant and pacifying the people…"

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The Seventh Biao bowed again, touching his head to the ground: "If the Clan Master does not become Emperor, who is qualified!"

……

PS: New Year's Eve catch-up update 1/2.

Tomorrow's update will be at 13:00.