Chapter 278: Starting a New Furnace

Since Diwu Lun had ordered that the large "jars and pots" not be brought along, the hundred craftsmen slated for relocation shouldered their rulers, saws, knives, and axes, led their donkeys, pulled their carts, and dragged along their children. They had no choice but to leave. Although several centuries had passed, the craftsmen still lived under the same system as in the Western Zhou — "artisans and merchants fed by the state" — their persons not fully free, dependent on the court, passing down their respective trades from generation to generation, making their living by them.

When the Xin Dynasty replaced the Han, the Lesser Treasury was renamed the Gonggong Office, and they simply changed masters; now, naturally, they belonged to the next victor. Still, a craftsman's skill resides in his own hands, so he'll never lack a meal wherever he goes. Fortunately, there were also the official slaves and soldiers who had decided to leave with Diwu Lun to help.

But the head of the Gonggong Office, Song Hong, was most reluctant to leave Chang'an and felt he had been deceived by Diwu Lun and Ren Guang.

"Earlier, Diwu Boyu asked me to come forward and oversee the grain distribution, saying over and over that it was for the sake of the entire city's people. Why now does he abandon them and leave?"

This made Song Hong deeply distressed. In just a single month, Diwu Lun's soldiers — one could not claim they had been utterly blameless toward Chang'an, but at the very least they had not engaged in wanton slaughter or harassment. And what of the city's next master? What would he do?

And then there was Ren Boqing. During their work together in recent days, he had humbly sought Song Hong's advice, addressing him at every turn as "Lord Song." So it turned out it was all to thoroughly probe the inner workings of the Gonggong Office and the Three Offices of Shanglin, and in the end, pack everything up and carry it off!

Yet Song Hong could not force Diwu Lun to stay in Chang'an and defend it. Victory and defeat in war cannot be taken for granted. If this place became a battlefield, that would instead bring an even greater calamity of war upon several hundred thousand people. Choosing to withdraw had instead become the best way to "preserve" this place.

And so Song Hong simply sulked inside the Gonggong Office, refusing to leave no matter what. Even when Ren Guang came to his door in person and repeatedly apologized, he remained unmoved.

"Let Diwu Boyu come himself!"

Ren Guang smiled. "His Excellency personally escorted the Empress Dowager and Lady Song out of the city early this morning. They have already set off for Weibei."

"What!?" Song Hong sprang to his feet in shock, pointed his finger at Ren Guang, did so several times, too furious to speak, yet utterly helpless. He could only immediately rush off in pursuit.

A gentleman may be ensnared by his own rectitude. Diwu Lun had by now figured one thing out: apart from his incorruptibility, this Director of Works Song was exceptionally devoted to his family, and treated his "wife of the humble days" especially well. With his wife and children already gone, how could he possibly stay behind?

The great relocation stretched on in a vast, mighty procession, the column numbering in the tens of thousands. The vanguard was already stepping onto the pontoon bridge across the Wei River while the rear guard was still at Chang'an's north gate.

But for the majority of Chang'an's residents, they looked upon this evacuation with cold, detached eyes.

"I told you so — Diwu Lun wouldn't last a month before slinking out of the city in disgrace."

The leftover loyalists of the dynasty before last had not all been massacred along with Gongsun Lu and the others. They lurked in every corner of the wards and lanes, some even holding rather significant official posts. When Diwu Lun's army was in the city, they had cooperated out of fear of the blades, but now they were dusting off their caps and congratulating one another.

These people could not wait for Diwu Lun to get out as soon as possible, to vacate Chang'an for its true master: a Son of Heaven of the Han house — though whether that meant the Green Han or the Western Han, they themselves probably had no clear idea.

From every ward and lane, people craned their necks to watch the army's withdrawal, buzzing with discussion. Diwu Lun had also expressed that he could not bear to abandon the common people, so he had sent men to proclaim throughout the city: "The bandit hordes from east of the passes will soon arrive. A lone city cannot hold out for long. Any of the people willing to follow may cross the river together and go to Weibei."

Diwu Lun did wish to lead the people across the river, but those who followed were few.

That was only natural. Many in the city had toiled for generations to finally secure homes and property, to gain a foothold among the eight avenues and nine crossroads. The grain General Diwu distributed for free was tasty enough, but the quantity was small — not even half a year's salary for many — and he never said that those who followed could keep eating for free!

Why should they abandon home and livelihood, and rush toward an unknown future, all for a single empty promise from him?

As for the bandits from beyond the passes, everyone wanted to wait and see. Chang'an had never seen great upheaval since its founding. Even the extermination of the Lü clan had not harmed the common people. More recently, Wang Mang's peaceful evolution against the Han — it was as if the sky had changed after waking from a nap — had also given the people of Chang'an a false impression.

"Isn't it just a change of dynasty?"

Wang Mang had been like that, and Diwu Lun was like that — neither brought harm down to the lower levels. Perhaps the next general to arrive in Chang'an would be even better than them — a righteous army, utterly blameless!

Yet an old man with graying hair who lived in Shangguan Ward moved against the current. Silently, he brought his servants and went out the door, insisting on following Diwu Lun's column.

"Zhang Songbo." His neighbor, a potbellied nobleman, was quite astonished. "Diwu Lun nearly arrested and executed you over that matter with Chen Chong. Now that he's leaving, shouldn't you be celebrating? Why on earth would you follow him?"

This Zhang Songbo, over seventy years of age, was named Zhang Song. He was the grandson of Zhang Chang, the "Five-Day Governor of the Capital" from the time of Emperor Xuan of Han.

Zhang Song was a close friend of Diwu Lun's enemy Chen Chong, and also a literary rival of Diwu Lun's teacher Yang Xiong. The sort of essays that Yang Xiong scorned to write and refused to write, Zhang Song would pick up his brush and dash off with ease.

He cited the Odes, the Documents, the Rites, the Changes, the Spring and Autumn Annals, the discourses of Confucius, and the deeds of many past worthies from King Wen and King Wu of Zhou down to Emperor Gao of Han, fervently and wildly lauding Wang Mang, so that after reading, one could not help but reach one conclusion: Wang Mang was truly the greatest sage of all time, unsurpassed by anyone.

For this he was enfeoffed as Marquis of Shude. The people of Chang'an made up a song to mock him: "If you seek a title, go through Zhang Songbo. Fighting hard in battle is no match for a cleverly crafted memorial."

But Zhang Song's flattering essays dwindled as Wang Mang's regime decayed day by day. To outsiders, he claimed he had drunk too much wine and developed a trembling hand. When Diwu Lun entered Chang'an, opportunists denounced Zhang Song, saying that as Chen Chong's close friend and an accomplice of Wang Mang, he should be condemned as a public enemy. But Diwu Lun, though he sought revenge, had no intention of exterminating ten degrees of kinship or widening the scope of attack, so he let him off.

Yet now, hearing that Diwu Lun was withdrawing, Zhang Song was actually abandoning the thousand-gold mansion passed down for three generations from his grandfather Zhang Chang, giving up all his family property and estate south of the Wei, and preparing to follow with a light carriage and a small retinue. For a time, this became a curious marvel in the ward.

His neighbors all laughed at him: "Zhang Songbo, you really must have drunk too much — you've gone senile."

Zhang Song did not defend himself. Sitting on his donkey cart, he turned his head and chuckled darkly: "When the old man at the frontier lost his horse, all his neighbors commiserated — only the old man himself was pleased. Gentlemen, with this we part. Whether this old fellow's departure from Chang'an is a blessing or a curse — the autumn will tell!"

The people of Chang'an could not bear to leave, and in truth, the officers and soldiers under Diwu Lun's command could not bear to part with the great city's splendor either. As the column left the city, heads turned back again and again, and many secretly grumbled without end.

Were the women of the city not pleasing enough to the eye? Did the fine tiled eaves not shelter them well enough from wind and rain? Or had the officials and people of Chang'an not been deferential enough to these common soldiers, not stuffed enough bribes and perks into their hands? Such a fine place — staying in the city made one's very bones feel soft and utterly comfortable. Why leave!

Even among the army's core, the eight hundred officers and men who had followed from Wei, quite a few thought the same, though the Grand General had done ideological work at a general meeting, telling everyone: "Do not fixate on the gain or loss of a single city or a single pool."

But this was no ordinary city — this was Chang'an, the imperial capital!

Little did they realize that the very reason they were so reluctant to leave Chang'an was precisely the reason Diwu Lun insisted on departing!

As a "feudal army," corruption and degeneration were inevitable, but it was in Chang'an that this newly assembled force rotted the fastest.

Two centuries of accumulated ills from the Han and over a decade of grotesque anomalies from the Xin had deposited layers of the bizarre and grotesque in this great city — not something that could be resolved simply by exiling or executing Wang Mang and a handful of "public enemies."

Those accumulated ills and that rot had already spread to every ward, lane, and alley of the city. To change it, one would have to bring in a powerful corps of bureaucrats and impose harsh laws. Otherwise, with the capital's waters so deep and murky, an army without firm conviction or organization thrown into them would have its very bones swallowed up.

A new regime, not yet established, wholly inheriting the maladministration of the previous dynasty and the one before that, losing all vitality — how could that work? Wang Mang had already proven that simply changing the signboard of Han governance and using those old-dynasty bureaucrats to carry out reforms was a path to self-destruction.

The filth and inauspiciousness of Chang'an — Diwu Lun as he was now frankly could not shoulder it. Better instead to...

"Start a new furnace!"

No construction without destruction. He had given the people of Chang'an only one choice. To leave or not to leave — that was their own affair. Even within Diwu Lun's own army, not a few soldiers who had received their gold cakes had deserted and chosen to remain in this great city.

"In these chaotic times, every person must make their own choice."

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Clinging to wishful thinking, staying in Chang'an, waiting eagerly for a savior to appear, for peace to descend.

Or relying on oneself. The Wei River may be wide, but it is only a few hundred paces across. If later on they could not endure, they could perfectly well vote with their feet.

The column advanced slowly. They had reached the Wei River. The three Wei bridges — west, central, and east — had been burned down when the Northern Army defended against Diwu Ba and the others' uprising, so pontoon bridges had to be rigged up on the spot.

Willing or not, the old capital had been left behind. And where was the base from which Diwu Lun intended to launch his new enterprise?

Someone guessed: "Could it be the General's hometown, Changling County?"

But Diwu Lun did not choose his old home. His regime, after all, had no desire to engage in clan politics but rather to embrace all talents, so he picked another place.

"Yueyang! (Wutun Town, Yanliang District, Xi'an)"

Over the past few days, Jing Dan's task had been to prepare for the arrival of Diwu Lun and the tens of thousands of people.

Choosing Yueyang as the wartime "capital" was a decision Diwu Lun had made after deep deliberation and on-the-ground inspection.

"There are only a few places north of the Wei that can serve as a capital." As a local, Jing Dan was thoroughly familiar with the geography. He said to Wan Xiu, "One is Xianyang; the other is Yueyang."

The Guanzhong regime that made Yueyang its capital dates back much earlier — during the reign of Duke Xian of Qin, in order to advance into Hexi, the capital was moved there from Yong, and Yueyang Palace was built; it was only over thirty years later that the capital shifted to Xianyang.

And after Liu Bang counterattacked the Three Qin from Ba, Shu, and Hanzhong, because Xianyang had already been burned by Xiang Yu and Chang'an had yet to be established, he too made Yueyang his capital for several years.

Their reason for choosing Yueyang is obvious: Yueyang is arguably the core of Weibei, not far from either east or west, situated on a loess plateau on the plain — easy to defend and hard to attack. After the Han dynasty's extensive canal construction, Yueyang lies backed by the Bai Canal, ensuring grain supplies. It is now late in the sixth month, autumn harvest is near, and the millet ears have already begun to droop.

The local powerful clans were not very strong either — just two families, far from comparable to the great houses of the Five Tombs. One of those families was the Jing clan. After Jing Dan received Diwu Lun's seal and cord, he "returned home in brocade robes" and became the family head — another lively scene of former arrogance turning to fawning deference.

But this family head's elbow bent outward: the very first thing he did was to offer up over three hundred qing of the clan's main lineage estate to Diwu Lun as public fields!

The Jing clansmen complained endlessly — when others become high officials, they carve flesh from the outside to fatten their own house; how could Jing Dan do the reverse? Jing Dan only smiled and said nothing. What could those clansmen, whose sight could not reach beyond their whiskers, possibly understand?

Since Yueyang was the old capital of three states — Qin, Sai, and Han — its city walls were larger than those of other counties, and its palaces were ready-made. East of the city stood a small walled compound called "Wannian Palace," the mausoleum town of Liu Bang's aged father, the Retired Emperor Liu Gong. After the change of dynasties, the tomb-keepers had all scattered, and it was nearly empty. Whether by Diwu Lun's design or not, Wang Zhengjun, the last Empress Dowager of Han, was settled there — one at the beginning, one at the end; a fitting start and finish.

The Qin-era Yueyang Palace, meanwhile, lay in the north of the city. It had served as a traveling palace during the Han dynasty and was still usable, but Diwu Lun left the palace halls empty and instead had the books from the Tianlu, Shiqu, and Qilin pavilions delivered there. He ordered Wang Long and Liangqiu Ci to sort and classify them; every type of bamboo slip was numbered and transported in sequence, until the traveling palace was packed to the brim.

As for Diwu Lun himself, he brought his assembled subordinates and took up residence in the former Grand Governor of Shivei's mansion, once occupied by Tian Kuang. At the end of the sixth month, when Liu Gong and Feng Yan arrived in Weibei travel-worn from Longyou, it was here that they had their audience with Diwu Lun.

Feng Yan asked Liu Gong and the others to wait outside and went in first to report, recounting every detail of the mission to Diwu Lun. He also analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of the Guan-Long region and conveyed the intelligence that Longyou lacked the energy to march east through Long Pass for the time being — and of course, no small amount of self-praise from this master of horizontal and vertical alliances was omitted.

This took the better part of a double-hour, leaving Liu Gong waiting in an outer side chamber in considerable anxiety. Weibei at the end of the sixth month was stiflingly hot; even indoors, drinking a cooling broth, his robes were still soaked through.

Liu Gong could hardly help his impatience. He and Feng Yan had been led straight to Yueyang before learning that Diwu Lun had already completed his relocation enterprise. Diwu Lun claimed he was "cleaning up Chang'an to await the true Son of Heaven's arrival," but Liu Gong could not shake the feeling that something was not quite right.

After a long wait, Feng Yan finally emerged and ushered Liu Gong inside.

Liu Gong rallied his spirits, and upon entering, produced the edict and declared: "Liu Gong, Director of the Imperial Clan, on behalf of the Yuanshu Emperor, commands the Han Chancellor, Grand Preceptor, and Marquis of Wei to bow and receive the decree!"

Diwu Lun rose and bowed to Liu Gong, but his face was a mask of bewilderment. "The three men you speak of, Senior Brother Erudite — they are not here."

What? Feng Yan had been inside speaking privately for so long, and he had not made this matter clear?

Liu Gong could only smile and say: "Boyu jests. Chancellor and Grand Preceptor are the offices the Yuanshu Son of Heaven bestows upon you. To hold the Three Excellencies and the Upper Excellency in one person — truly unheard of since antiquity."

"And this Marquis of Wei is a title of nobility — even more extraordinary. The Yuanshu Emperor enfeoffs you with the entire Liewei Commandery, ten counties, one hundred fifty thousand households! To reward Boyu for punishing the tyrant, expelling Wang Mang, defending Chang'an, and aiding the House of Han — you must exert yourself!"

"What virtue, what ability does Lun possess…"

Diwu Lun at once began to decline. Liu Gong assumed his old habit had flared up again and prepared to follow custom by offering further encouragement on the Yuanshu Emperor's behalf. But Diwu Biao, standing in attendance to the side, erupted in anger and confronted Liu Gong before everyone: "Liu Erudite! The Grand General was already a duke under the Xin dynasty. Now he has driven out Wang Mang and slain the people's brigands — he has rendered great service to all under Heaven. How is it that your emperor grudgingly gives him a mere marquis, a rank lower than before!"

Liu Gong hurriedly explained: "In setting things right, the Xin dynasty's five-rank nobility has been abolished. We now use the Han-era titles once more; a full marquis is the highest enfeoffment there is…"

Diwu Biao blew at his whiskers and glared. "And above marquis — is there not still king?"

Liu Gong said helplessly: "The White Horse Covenant binds us: those not of the Liu surname may not be made kings…"

Diwu Biao grew angrier still. "So what you mean is, this kingship — you can hold it, any random Liu can hold it, but our lord, no matter how great his achievements, cannot?"

Was this crude military man not simply making a scene? Liu Gong could only look toward the smiling Diwu Lun — you be the judge.

Diwu Lun felt Liu Gong's gaze upon him and raised a hand. "Do not make things difficult for Senior Brother Erudite."

"He is merely carrying out orders."

Liu Gong breathed a sigh of relief. Diwu Lun understood propriety and consideration after all…

But he never anticipated Diwu Lun's next words.

Diwu Lun swept his gaze over everyone present — Jing Dan, Wan Xiu, Ren Guang, Diba Jiao, and the rest — and smiled helplessly.

"It cannot be helped."

"Since the Yuanshu Emperor will not raise my rank — I shall honor myself!"

…

PS: Got home a bit late; tomorrow's update will be at 13:00.