Chapter 321: When Autumn Comes, the Eighth Day of the Ninth Month

Zhang Zhan had indeed been seen through by Diwu Lun — he truly had come to plead leniency for Fan Zhu and the others.

He said: "When Yuan Si, a disciple of Confucius, served as steward and received nine hundred measures of grain, he wished to decline. Confucius said, do not refuse — if you find it too much, then share it with your neighbors and village fellows!"

"When Your Majesty raised your troops, the heroes of the Five Tombs rose up in response — all this I witnessed with my own eyes. Though now one or two among them have erred, why must they all be rounded up and executed together?"

Everyone understood what today's affair was really about. When there is a will to condemn, pretexts are never lacking. Diwu Lun's men had done their work too crudely — even an honest man like Zhang Zhan could hardly bear to watch. Standing from the perspective of a fellow villager, he felt that Diwu Lun, having just defeated Liu Bosheng, was now "burning the bridge after crossing the river." To sweep away over thirty powerful families of the Five Tombs in one stroke was going too far.

But when Liu Bang faced the people of Feng Yi, his own hometown, who had betrayed him, he had not shown them a kindly face either.

Studious as he was, Diwu Lun, though he did not delve deeply into the Five Classics, could now hold his own in discussions with scholars quoting the Confucian canon. He shook his head and said: "On the subject of village fellows, there is another passage in the Analects that puts it well."

"Zigong asked, 'If there were one man whom all the village fellows loved, what of him?' The Master said, 'That is not enough.'"

Diwu Lun pointed at Zhang Zhan: "You, Sir Zhang, are precisely the man whom all the village fellows love."

Zhang Zhan was a good-natured man, amiable with everyone, lacking any hard-edged methods. The village magnates, of course, were fond of such a soft persimmon — good for nothing but moral exhortations.

Zhang Zhan caught the sarcasm in Diwu Lun's words but did not take offense. He merely said: "But Zigong then asked, 'If there were one man whom all the village fellows hated, what of him?' The Master said, 'That is not enough.'"

"Seen in this light, does Your Majesty intend to become the man whom all the village fellows hate?"

Diwu Lun smiled without answering. Taking advantage of the fact that the sky had not yet fully darkened, he pointed beyond Changping Lodge and said: "Over there is the old course of the Jing River. Sir Zixiao, you should still remember the floods of those years, yes?"

This was the very place Diwu Lun had once gazed upon from afar all those years ago. The diverted bed of the Jing River lay like a twisted, ugly scar, cleaving the world in two. Seven years had passed, and nothing had changed. On this side of the riverbed were still the fertile fields and fine mansions of the powerful families; on the other side, the devastation remained, only the wild grass had grown much taller.

"That year, Guanzhong was struck by torrential rains. The waters around the capital region rose over ten feet. The Jing River burst its banks, and several counties north of the commandery were flooded."

"Over there was once a stretch of rich farmland and hamlets, but it was swallowed by the diverted Jing River. When the great flood struck, dozens of villages and thousands of qing of land were destroyed in a single day."

"The powerful families, however, suffered no damage, because they had built earthen embankments along the river in advance. The floodwaters could not enter their lands, so they swept instead through the poor hamlets and commoners' homes that had no dikes to protect them. Tens of thousands of people were left homeless and destitute."

Zhang Yu and Zhu Di had become orphans in that very disaster. No wonder Zhang Yu had been so zealous this time in framing the powerful families.

Zhang Zhan fell silent. Of course he remembered. At the time, he had just arrived in the commandery. His predecessor had left behind a deficit, and the commandery granary held less than five thousand shi of surplus grain. He could only go door to door, pleading with the magnates, persuading them each to contribute some provisions. In the end, only the household of the Marquis of Qiongcheng gave a thousand shi. The rest gave at most a hundred-odd shi, and some refused to part with even a single hair.

Such a pittance of grain was, of course, a mere drop in the bucket. A huge gap yawned in the relief effort. Just as the starving people were stripping bark from the trees and preparing to flee as refugees, the various powerful families seemed to have a sudden awakening of conscience. One after another, they sent men bearing grain to move among the stricken poor, expressing their willingness to lend grain to them.

It was, of course, usurious lending — borrow one, repay two, or even three.

And so the common folk, having lost their homes and fields and now burdened with debt, could only sign contracts with the various powerful families and become their tenant farmers and retainers.

They were not, of course, slaves. This sidestepped Wang Mang's edict on royal fields and private dependents — no buying or selling had occurred, yet the population was annexed in a roundabout way.

Zhang Zhan could only watch helplessly as all this unfolded. And afterward, the disaster victims and the commandery governor alike still had to thank these powerful families for their "righteous deeds"!

"You, Sir Zixiao, regarded them as village fellows. But at that time, did they give any thought to the bond you and the disaster victims shared as fellow commandery men?"

In a single stroke, Diwu Lun punctured the hollowness of the "village-fellow sentiment" Zhang Zhan had been invoking.

"After Wang Mang's fall, when you, Sir Zhang, resigned your post and returned home, they were even less restrained and grew utterly ungovernable."

Diwu Lun sneered and began to enumerate the fine deeds these fallen magnates had been up to over the past few months.

"They did indeed answer my call to arms. But after that, they sat on the fence and watched. When I attacked Chang'an, they watched. When I struck at Tian Kuang and held off Liu Bosheng, they watched. And what were they doing all the while? Annexing land and expanding their slave holdings!"

The annexationist desires of the powerful families, suppressed for fifteen years under the Xin Dynasty, erupted after Wang Mang fled. Seeing how the magnates south of the Wei River casually seized entire counties and townships as private property, the men north of the Wei grew envious and eagerly picked up the old methods they had set aside over a decade ago.

"Fan Zhu of Changling, a mere village magnate, presumed upon being among the first to answer my call and considered himself a founding loyalist. Not only did he seize commoners' fields, but when noble titles were being conferred, he had the shamelessness to cite the Xiao clan, who had occupied the Shanglin Park to the south, as a precedent, and demanded mountain and marshland for his own cultivation. In these few months, Fan Zhu has taken in a total of three hundred and eighty-one slaves and, through forced purchase, intimidation, and enticement, acquired one hundred and eighty-one qing of land."

"As for the other families, those who relied on their power to plunder greedily and seize men's fields and homes are beyond counting. Their servants and retainers preyed upon the common people and monopolized the mountains, forests, lakes, and marshes, reducing the folk of their villages to poverty and destitution."

Even Diwu Lun's own clansmen were kept under strict control, and the sons and brothers of his meritorious officers were too busy campaigning east and west to engage in such affairs. Yet the powerful families north of the Wei dared to be this brazen. If this was the result after three months, what would they do given three years? Thirty years?

"The mansions of the powerful stretch for hundreds of bays, their fertile fields fill the countryside. If they are not checked, I fear we will soon see them with slaves by the thousand and dependents by the tens of thousands!"

This was not Diwu Lun fabricating charges. Of course people had come to report these deeds, but Diwu Lun had bided his time, pretending not to see. He had endured until now — with Liu Bosheng just dead and no strong external enemies — and then picked up his blade to sweep them all away in one stroke!

Diwu Lun declared without shame: "If they wanted titles and rewards, they could have petitioned me openly. But to tyrannize the villages like this, and to flirt with Liu Bosheng on top of it — how could I tolerate them?"

"Therefore, these men are the unworthy among the village folk."

"The Master said, 'Better that the worthy among the village folk love him, and the unworthy hate him.'"

Diwu Lun laughed: "It is enough that the worthy among the village folk, men like you, Sir Zhang, understand me. As for the likes of Xiao Yan and Fan Zhu — let them curse me all they want!"

When even silent resentment and inward rebellion were punished this harshly, who would dare curse Diwu Lun in public?

The matter having been laid out to this extent, Zhang Zhan could hardly plead further. Diwu Lun pressed on: "Back then, the reason you, Sir Zhang, were unable to realize your plans in Liewu — establishing institutions and rites, setting up instructive ordinances, and transforming the people through governance and education — was entirely because of their obstruction."

"Now that I have swept them clean, Sir Zhang, you may freely carry out your moral instruction and civilizing influence!"

Men like Wang Yuan, Diwu Lun could handle with a mix of coercion and intimidation. But with Zhang Zhan, he could only rely on coaxing.

In any case, the old man's abilities were limited — he could not even outmaneuver the petty clerks under him, and his edicts never made it past the gates of his office. Let him amuse himself as he pleased.

Only then did Zhang Zhan shift his attention. After hesitating a moment, he voiced the thought that had been on his mind: "I wish to promote, in every township of the Five Tombs, the charitable schools that Your Majesty established back then."

…

After coaxing Zhang Zhan away, the next person to approach was Jing Dan. He had just returned from fighting south of the Wei River when Diwu Lun dragged him into this performance. Though he had cooperated actively, he still harbored doubts in his heart.

"Your Majesty," Jing Dan said, "now that over thirty families have been thrown into prison, may I ask how they will be dealt with?"

The State of Wei was still in its infancy, continuing to use the laws of Han and Xin, but many provisions had already been abolished. In adjudicating cases now, Diwu Lun's personal likes and dislikes were the decisive factor.

Diwu Lun had decided their fates long before the arrests: "Those who deserve death will naturally be killed. As for those whose crimes do not warrant death — the salt fields of Hedong and the coal mines of Shang Commandery have no shortage of places in need of hard labor."

Jing Dan said: "What I ask about is not the life or death of these thirty-odd men, but the clans behind them, and their fields, homes, and other properties."

"Strike only the main lineage, not the branch lineages."

So said Diwu Lun. The thirty-plus powerful families north of the Wei could muster a population of several thousand, and with their dependents, even more. If the net were cast wide, there would be no end to it. So they would target only the main lineage — sever the head and be done.

"Then, following the old laws of Qin and the early Han, we shall break up each clan. Any household with more than two adult males living together shall be convicted, and they will be forcibly divided. Great clans shall be split into middle households, middle households into small ones. Their residences I do not want — let them divide those among themselves."

"As for the fields of the main lineages… the old rule applies: they shall be confiscated as public land and distributed to the soldiers who rendered meritorious service in this campaign."

"And the tenant farmers attached to those lands?" Jing Dan asked. "Shall we maintain the status quo, reducing rents and interest?"

This was what Diwu Lun had done in Wu'an in Wei Commandery, but Jing Dan knew the original roots of these policies.

Jing Dan carefully recalled the scene seven years ago, when he and Diwu Lun had visited Changping Lodge as guests. The two of them had also ascended the high terrace then and witnessed the wretchedness of the gleaners outside. Turning back to behold the luxury of the Marquis of Qiongcheng's mansion, with its pavilions and towers rising within the courtyard walls, they had lamented the absurdity of a world where the rich owned fields stretching from ridge to ridge while the poor lacked even a pinpoint of land to stand on, where dogs and swine ate men's food without anyone thinking to check it.

"At the time, I sighed: if every family were willing, like Your Majesty's own household, to share grain and reduce interest, to take benevolence in the village as their ideal, and to treat the common people kindly, why worry that this commandery could not be governed? Why worry that the realm could not be at peace?"

"And Your Majesty replied…"

Diwu Lun laughed heartily and picked up the thread: "I said, if they are unwilling, then help them become willing!"

"Exactly." Jing Dan leaned in and said in a low voice, "The King's word is worth a thousand in gold — this is a disguised form of land equalization!"

Land equalization was no new term. Dong Zhongshu had proposed it over a hundred years ago. Later, annexation across the realm had reached a point where it could no longer be ignored — every plot of land and every person swallowed up by a powerful family meant one less share of revenue for the state's coffers. How could they not be anxious?

During the reign of Emperor Ai of Han, a group of Confucian scholar-officials pushed through a "Land Limitation Edict," but it was repealed under opposition from court and country and never implemented. By Wang Mang's time, he directly revived the well-field system to curb annexation and the buying and selling of people — and it ended in failure.

Even Wang Mang knew where the realm's ills lay, so Jing Dan and the others naturally understood as well. In the past, their words carried little weight and they dared not even think of it — but now they dared! In his view, Diwu Lun was using the pretext of striking down opponents, but his true intent was still that vast ocean of land they held.

This was the first man to point out Diwu Lun's purpose. Had it been anyone else, Diwu Lun would likely have denied it flatly, but Jing Dan was different — he had taken the initiative to revolutionize himself, offering up the Jing clan's great tracts of land. Diwu Lun was pleased he still remembered this. "Sun Qing understands the matter clearly."

Jing Dan held Diwu Lun in reverence. Seven years, and the King of Wei had never forgotten his original resolve.

Yet he had to warn Diwu Lun. "But, my King."

"Shi Dan and He Wu's Land Limitation Edict — the whole realm opposed it."

"Wang Mang's Royal Land Decree drew even more spittle and curses. In Wei Ao's proclamation of war, he bitterly denounced the new Mang for making all land royal land, forbidding its sale or purchase — and won a roar of applause from the powerful families."

"If my King does this, you may deceive them for a time, but you cannot keep the heroes of the realm blind for long. Once or twice may be tolerated, but if from now on you always uproot powerful families and divide their lands like this, it will surely rouse terror among the great clans."

Having defeated Liu Bosheng, Diwu Lun was now quite confident and dismissed it. "The heads of over thirty clans north of the Wei have already been seized. The rest I will pacify myself — they won't stir any great waves. As for south of the Wei? We'll just fight!"

"Your servant speaks not only of Guanzhong, but of the whole realm!"

Jing Dan said, "My King, once you take this step, the road to unifying the realm in the days ahead will surely grow a few degrees harder."

A few degrees? It could well be threefold, fivefold the resistance!

But if he did not do this, what real difference would there be between Diwu Lun's regime and all these many "Han" states? Would it be marked only by a different dynastic name?

Diwu Lun fell silent for a long moment, then said, "The Red Eyebrows and the Greenwood rose up because of Wang Mang's misrule, but at root, it was the accumulated ills of the Han, left to fester too long, with too many people sunk in misery. Revolts have been breaking out ceaselessly since the time of Emperor Yuan of Han, and at last we have this avalanche. The State of Wei is newly founded and must lay a firm foundation. If I let wicked magnates swallow up land unchecked, not only will it obstruct government decrees from reaching the counties and villages, reduce land-rent revenues, and leave gaps in our troop rolls — sooner or later, it will breed great calamity!"

"These burdens were left over from the Han. The three reigns of Yuan, Cheng, and Ai failed to resolve them, and they only grew sharper. Wang Mang could do no more than skim the froth off a boiling pot — in the end, it was no use."

"The ills left behind by the Han dynasty — I will cure them."

"The borers Wang Mang failed to root out — I will kill!"

Only by squeezing out the abscess can a new regime lay a firm foundation and stride forward!

"Your servant is in awe!" Jing Dan was won over, but the worry in his heart remained. He fully supported Diwu Lun in doing these things, yet still felt it was somewhat too hasty. But at this stage, Diwu Lun's mind was made up — he could only try, in the execution, to see if it might be softened somewhat.

Diwu Lun clapped him on the shoulder to hearten him. "Sun Qing, rouse your spirits — this too is a great battle!"

Indeed, for Diwu Lun and for the newborn regime, the battle to come meant more than the Battle of the Wei River just fought — it even surpassed the uprising at Hongmen and the expulsion of Wang Mang, the campaign that had won Diwu Lun the righteous cause of "punishing the tyrant."

"The true battle to found the state!"

Jing Dan bowed with clasped hands and departed. Stung by this, the magnates north of the Wei might stir again, and the confiscated lands had to be clarified and parceled out one by one — he still had a mountain of work to do.

Diwu Lun watched him go, and his smile slowly faded.

He needed no one to remind him. Diwu Lun knew full well that his meritorious founding followers — or their sons and grandsons — no matter how they stood now, would sooner or later turn from dragon-slayers who had joined him in a "Tang-Wu revolution" into vicious dragons themselves, becoming the new great houses.

And once the soldiers under his command received their land, within a few generations they too would divide into landlords and tenant farmers — some soaring upward, others crashing into the dust. Land would always flow from the small independent cultivator's hands and concentrate into the great estates. It could not be stopped.

Because human desire is innate and cannot be suppressed, and every dynasty, every state, every civilization cycles through its rise and fall in this same pattern. Ancient or modern, East or West, there is scarcely an exception — even the mightiest, like a lighthouse, are no more than this.

But even if a man is fated to die, he must still strive to live. A family, a state — it is the same. Until the very last moment, they struggle with all their might. How can one, at the moment of birth, simply lie flat in a coffin?

A cycle of fifteen years and a cycle of three hundred years are vastly different. Do you want to be a Xin Dynasty, or do you seek to restore the glory of Han and Tang?

Going forward, Diwu Lun even wanted to try to reshape the relations of production, to develop the productive forces, to strive for four hundred, five hundred years.

"After all, I'm a transmigrator, aren't I? What the fake transmigrator Wang Mang couldn't pull off — that's for me to finish!" he said to himself, his gaze settling on a row of chrysanthemums in the Changping Lodge garden. All things withered; they alone still bloomed with abandon, their color a blaze of gold in the setting sun.

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Though a few days late, the ninth month had not yet passed. Diwu Lun let out a breath, clasped his hands behind his back, and softly finished the poem he had left incomplete seven years ago.

"Wait till autumn comes, the eighth of the ninth moon — my flowers bloom, and all the hundred flowers are slain!"

"A fragrance soaring skyward will pierce Chang'an, the whole city clad in golden armor!"

The great houses had been slain; Chang'an he had already entered; he had seized Wang Mang's private treasury and distributed gold to the soldiers. That could count as keeping his word and doing what he said, couldn't it?

Yet Diwu Lun still carried a regret in his heart. Because when he first entered Chang'an, he had found the exam questions somewhat difficult and handed in his paper early, letting Liu Bosheng take over. The result: the other man's approach to the problems was all wrong — he treated advanced math like a PE test and smoothly earned himself a big goose egg.

Now Diwu Lun had run back to his hometown to cram for two more months. Would he still take the exam?

"Of course I'll take it!"

But learning from the first lesson, the second time he entered the capital for the exam, he had to pick the most opportune moment.

Diwu Lun stretched out a hand to feel the autumn breeze. No, it was not yet cold enough.

"It must be in the twelfth month, in the bitterest cold, amid the weeping pleas of the people of Chang'an, amid cries of 'If the King of Wei does not come, we cannot go on living!' — only then will I go, bringing grain and the firewood they desperately need, delivering warmth and full bellies to the common folk of the capital!"

The sky was about to go fully dark. Diwu Lun gazed into the distance; there were still figures moving in the harvested fields.

They had come too late for gleaning, but these women and children, scattered sparsely along the field ridges, still tried to find wild mallow and other greens that could be pressed into green dumplings to stave off hunger — the ridges beyond had already been scoured clean; this stretch was the land of a great house, so perhaps there were still some left behind?

The women were too scantily clad to cover themselves; the children were disheveled and grimy. They kept lifting their heads, on guard against the powerful family's burly slaves throwing their weight around to drive them off.

But all the children saw was a man on the high terrace of the tightly guarded Changping Lodge, waving to them in the sunset glow.

It was Diwu Lun beckoning, telling them to come over — today they need not eat wild greens; there was meat stew for them.

Yet when the mothers lifted their weary faces and saw this, and saw the back gate of Changping Lodge swing open, they were at once seized with terror. Dragging their children, they fled with all their might toward the village.

"Run! Hurry!"

"That nobleman is waving his hands to drive us away! If we don't leave, he'll set the vicious dogs on us!"

PS: A bit late. Tomorrow's update at 13:00.