Chapter 351: Peach Blossoms Blooming Together in the Spring

To make it convenient for all circles in Chang'an to come and invite him into the capital, Diwu Lun, under the pretext of "inspecting the spring," made a special point of taking a wide detour around the Jingzhao region.

His first stop along the way was Shanglin Park. Deng Ye, the Greenwood chieftain who had surrendered after Liu Bosheng fell in battle, was stationed at Xuanqu Palace. Nearby were the ready-made barracks of the former Northern Army. Hearing that the King of Wei had arrived, he immediately rushed over to report to Diwu Lun.

"Thanks to Your Majesty's brilliance and the soldiers' dedication, your subject has spent over a month completely clearing out all bandits and powerful clan remnants within three hundred li of Shanglin!"

The surrendered Greenwood troops under Deng Ye's command would certainly be useless if pulled to Youfufeng to fight a hard battle, but they were quite adept at security warfare — Deng Ye had been a bandit in Xi County in the past and had even robbed Diwu Lun's family convoy. Sending a bandit chief to suppress bandits was something only Diwu Lun could have thought of.

After Diwu Lun repelled the Longyou forces, Deng Ye became even more convinced that Diwu Lun's State of Wei was the most powerful, and treated him with the utmost deference.

Diwu Lun said with a genial smile, "General Deng, have you grown accustomed to living in Xuanqu Palace? How does it compare to the Gouyi Palace that Liu Bosheng bestowed upon you?"

"Quite accustomed. The soldiers chant Your Majesty's benevolence day and night," Deng Ye replied dutifully. But Diwu Lun was different from Liu Bosheng: the palaces were not divided up and granted away as spoils of war. Ownership remained with the State of Wei's government, though the troops stationed to suppress bandits in Shanglin could move in — after all, the palace maids had long since fled, and anything of value had already been looted.

In these chaotic times, there was a shortage of everything but bandits: Xin Dynasty deserters, Greenwood remnants, and powerful clan militias were all holed up in Shanglin Park scraping out a living. Those who could be incorporated were incorporated, their units broken up and distributed among the various generals and colonels, or pulled elsewhere to open military farms. Those Weinan powerful clans who stubbornly resisted were pinned down and struck hard. Only by sweeping Shanglin Park clean could Diwu Lun's earlier plan — conceived when he witnessed the burning of Changyang Palace — to "return forests to farmland" be realized.

Shortly after, Diwu Lun arrived at Kunming Pond, the largest lake in Shanglin, stretching over forty li in breadth.

The Minister Steward Song Hong and the Grain Administration Colonel Ren Guang were both at Kunchi Palace, using it as a temporary office, and reported the situation to Diwu Lun.

"During Your Majesty's western campaign, your subjects led men across the entirety of Shanglin Park. Although the terrain has many forests and marshes, there is also plenty of flatland, especially near the eastern, southern, and western fringes. This was originally Guanzhong farmland from the late Qin and early Han, abandoned due to the enclosure edict that established the park. Moving people here would be far easier than clearing true wilderness."

Diwu Lun nodded. "How much land can be obtained?"

Ren Guang said, "Shanglin stretches over three hundred li, with seven rivers — the Wei, Feng, Lao, Jue, Hao, Chan, and Ba — flowing through it. There are many ready-made canals and ditches. If we repair them and recruit ten to twenty thousand households to come here, we can open five thousand qing of land in the first year, and another five thousand the next."

Diwu Lun nodded. The households he planned to settle in Shanglin were partly refugees displaced by war, and partly Chang'an's surplus population — in these chaotic times, trade routes were severed and merchants had vanished. The East and West Markets of Chang'an could no longer support so many non-agricultural residents. Any city-dweller who knew how to farm and was willing could come here to open military farms.

This was no free gift; it was essentially becoming a tenant farmer for the state, helping the government work military farms. At most, the land rent was a bit lower than what powerful clans charged — only about forty percent...

Up to this point, Diwu Lun had been quite optimistic. But after reviewing the "income and expenditure" report that Song Hong and Ren Guang had jointly compiled — that is, this year's revenues and budget — his heart sank.

"At the turn of spring and summer this year, when the old grain is gone and the new has yet to ripen, there will surely be a great famine across the entire realm! Guanzhong will not escape it."

This was the prediction Ren Guang made after tallying the State of Wei's existing granary reserves and roughly estimating the population under the King of Wei's rule after swallowing all of Guanzhong.

This was inevitable. Laozi said: Where armies march, thorns and brambles grow. After great wars, there are sure to be years of famine. The war against Wang Mang had been fought for many years. Many commanderies in the east were already utterly devastated. The man-made calamities were horrific enough, not to mention the recurrent natural disasters brought by the capricious Yellow River.

In these final years of the Xin Dynasty, military provisions were almost entirely sustained by Weibei in Guanzhong. Last year, Wang Mang dispatched hundreds of thousands east on campaign. During the critical spring plowing season, able-bodied laborers were taken from the fields, and farming was dealt a severe blow. By autumn, the harvest was already sharply reduced, and just then the Greenwood forces under Liu Bosheng entered the pass and the Long troops entered Youfufeng — both commanderies fell into chaos, and even the autumn harvest was missed.

"Weinan's harvest was less than a quarter of previous years, and Youfufeng's granary stores are less than half of last year's."

It was only because Weibei, under Diwu Lun's control, had managed to preserve the summer planting and autumn harvest and could spare some rations that, for now, Guanzhong had not descended into cannibalism like Guandong!

After reviewing the income and expenditure, Diwu Lun was instantly filled with a solemn dread, more serious than when he faced Liu Bosheng or the Longyou forces in decisive battle.

Both Song Hong and Ren Guang were among the Nine Ministers who supported Diwu Lun's land equalization policy. Although Song Hong came from a gentry family, he was quite compassionate toward the people, while Ren Guang, a former small landlord and village bailiff, was also relatively down-to-earth.

And so Diwu Lun spoke with deep sincerity to the two officials who controlled the purse strings and the grain sacks: "The state, the state — the state and the family are indeed very alike. In Han times, the Emperor and Empress Dowager were often regarded as father and mother of all under heaven, and the common people were called 'children of the state.' A father can decide life and death for his children."

"But in my view, it should be the other way around. The common people are the fathers and mothers who clothe and feed the kings, marquises, generals, and ministers!"

These words, spoken with resounding force, filled Song Hong with awe and veneration, while Ren Guang fell into deep thought.

Diwu Lun continued, "If the fathers and mothers all starve to death, then the kings, marquises, generals, and ministers, however high and mighty they sit, will lose their foundation and begin to totter. If families who lived perfectly well under Wang Mang's rule end up under my governance so starved that they exchange and eat their own children, how could I have the face to righteously proclaim that I am 'comforting the people and punishing the tyrant'?"

"The commanderies and counties still in the hands of Western Han, Greenwood, and Northern Han — those I cannot control."

"But in the commanderies under this king's rule, the tragedy of people eating one another must absolutely not occur!"

Diwu Lun had set himself another goal that seemed simple but was in reality exceedingly difficult. But in his view, this was the basic bottom line of a regime. In spring, there was no rush to fight wars; the most urgent task was to safeguard the people's livelihood. Whether to organize the building of palaces and enclose land for hunting deer, or to repair waterworks and open wasteland to store grain — it all came down to a single thought in the ruler's mind.

So, let later generations curse him for drinking poison to quench thirst, or for seeking quick success and instant profit — he had to fight nature for a path to survival!

Diwu Lun issued the order: "During the spring plowing, ten thousand qing of land must be opened! Ten thousand refugee households and ten thousand households from the wards of Chang'an are to be settled here. Establish 'Shanglin County,' and ensure that each household has one to two able-bodied men and can farm fifty mu of land."

"Because of the war, the people of Weinan and Youfufeng have been displaced and scattered, missing the planting of winter wheat. In summer, they will likely reap nothing."

Winter wheat was a crop heavily promoted during the time of Emperor Wu of Han. Its advantage lay not in high yield or fragrant flour, but in its different growing season from ordinary crops, allowing it to relieve famine. Though wheat rice bloated the stomach, it was better than starving.

Adding it all up, the massive shortfall in the five staple grains could not be filled; they would have to rely on coarse grains and wild greens to make up the difference.

"Find ways to sow more alfalfa on the uncultivated wasteland within Shanglin; it can also stave off hunger," Diwu Lun instructed Ren Guang earnestly. This crop from the Western Regions was something he had planted when opening wasteland in New Qinzhong — it was a good thing that both enriched the soil and could be eaten.

This was taking precautions, but things had indeed not yet reached the point where everyone had to dig for wild greens. Diwu Lun then pointed at Kunming Pond and said, "I have heard that Kunming Pond has long since ceased to be a place for training naval warfare and has instead become a fish pond?"

"Exactly," Song Hong said. "During the time of Emperor Zhao of Han, the Superintendent of Waterways and Parks, Zhao Chongguo, released fish fry here. In the years that followed, the fish produced in Kunming Pond not only sufficed for the sacrifices at the various imperial mausoleum temples but also yielded a surplus that was sent to the East and West Markets of Chang'an for sale."

This was a good thing. Diwu Lun nodded. In these chaotic times, although many starving commoners came to scoop up fish and shrimp to eat, the small boats on the pond were busy, and every cast of the net brought in a bountiful harvest.

Ren Guang interjected, "The elders and Erudites in Chang'an, such as Guo You, have sent servants to Kunming Pond to beg for fish... This autumn and winter, trade in Chang'an has been completely cut off. Not a single head of livestock has been driven in."

He laughed. "Those meat-eaters who once could not eat a meal without meat now beg only for a mouthful of fish..."

The old fellows like the Imperial Academy Erudite Guo You, acting as the "elders" delegated by the people of Chang'an, had come to kneel and beg Diwu Lun to return the capital to Chang'an, and had already been rebuffed twice — once in Wugong, once in Zhouzhi. No one knew when the third attempt would come.

Diwu Lun, however, had not the slightest sympathy for the hardships of their journeys. He merely said, "The fish from Kunming Pond shall not supply the mausoleum temple sacrifices, nor need they be sent to the East and West Markets. The daily catch is to be distributed to the troops stationed around Chang'an for their consumption!"

"As for the potbellied meat-eaters in the city, let them go a little hungrier and flatter first. If they want to eat meat in the future, or the fruit from Shanglin, they can exchange grain or cloth for it. Slaves will do as well."

Diwu Lun hoped to drive down grain prices as much as possible. He had heard that in the East and West Markets, selling a child as a slave in exchange for an equal weight of grain had already begun. To prevent anyone from hoarding grain, waiting for the famine, and then selling it off at exorbitant prices, Diwu Lun was already considering, once the relief gruel stations were stopped, issuing "grain coupons" in Chang'an and implementing rationed supply.

Having arranged all this, Diwu Lun left Kunming Pond and, with his guard unit, continued to "inspect the spring" around Chang'an. His next stops included White Poplar Belvedere, Yichun Park, and other places.

In the past, these places had carved and painted roof beams, jade-adorned rafter-ends, and carriageways and covered walkways stretching in unbroken continuity. High hills were leveled, and upon them halls were built; terraces and towers rose layer upon layer, stacked and overlapping — all prepared for the excursions and banquets of the Han Son of Heaven.

But now, ghosts wept at night by Kunming Pond, and owls roosted on the Zhaotai Terrace — a desolate wasteland in the aftermath of war.

"How many of the palaces and parks are still habitable?" Diwu Lun asked from his carriage.

The Minister Steward Song Hong thought that the King of Wei, who had just moments ago righteously proclaimed himself a "child of the people," was now turning his mind to pleasure.

He was a rigid gentleman, the sort who would frown even if his lord listened to the music of Zheng and Wei or turned back to look at the paintings of women on a screen. With a stern face, he said, "Originally there were thirty-six parks, twelve palaces, and twenty-five belvederes — seventy-three in total. Wang Mang demolished over ten of the palace buildings, taking their timber and tiles to construct the Nine Temples. When the Greenwood bandits invaded, the war damaged over twenty more. Half remain."

Liu Bosheng and Wei Ao had distributed these palaces and parks to their armies and powerful clans, but Diwu Lun had other plans.

"The various parks, once used to raise tigers, leopards, and white deer, will now be used to raise cattle, horses, and livestock for military use. The houses around the belvederes, originally the quarters of palace maids and slaves, will first be allocated to the civilian households coming to open military farms."

"As for the remaining palace chambers, they shall be converted into workshops!"

Diwu Lun laughed. "I have it all planned out. Among the craftsmen under the Minister Steward's jurisdiction: the weavers shall live in Cocoon Belvedere; the woodworkers, cartwrights, and wheelwrights shall live in White Poplar Belvedere, Zhe-tree Belvedere, and Twisted-Tree Belvedere; the fruit-wine brewers shall live in Putao Palace; the tanners shall live in Tiger Pen Belvedere. This way, they will be close to their raw materials and have roads connecting to Chang'an."

"Only thus will it be worthy of the hardships they endured following me north and south, and their toil in making armor, smelting iron, forging weapons, and sewing robes for our army during the war. What does the Minister Steward think?"

Song Hong was stunned speechless. Diwu Lun took his silence as agreement, lifted the carriage curtain, and continued to look outside. Although there was a post-war desolation, signs of new life were not absent in Shanglin: on the charred remnants of White Poplar Belvedere, pale yellow tender buds were poking out their heads; beneath the lingering early-spring snow in Yichun Park, a lush green carpet of color would soon bloom and restore vitality. In another month or so, the peach blossoms would burst into flower too.

Yes, merely killing and striking down the thirty-three powerful clans of Weibei after autumn, only destroying — that was not enough. With survival and security resolved, the next step was development and construction. He, Diwu Lun, loved the chrysanthemums of the ninth day of the ninth month in autumn, but he also delighted in the peach blossoms of the second and third months of spring!

As for Song Hong, after seeing Diwu Lun off at the edge of Shanglin Park, he was in a daze — joyful, yet feeling somehow unreal. When he returned to Kunchi Palace, he spoke only to Ren Guang of Diwu Lun's decisions.

"Scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants — the four peoples of the realm. Now add soldiers, and it becomes five peoples."

"The King is cold toward the scholar-gentry, harsh toward merchants and traders, yet treats artisans, farmers, and soldiers with considerable generosity."

Song Hong had never seen such a peculiar sovereign — certain lines of thought resembled Wang Mang's, but on closer reflection, there were also enormous differences.

Had an ordinary scholar-official been present, he would surely have denounced Diwu Lun. Ren Guang, however, laughed and said, "The Privy Treasurer misunderstands. The King is not cold toward scholars — it is simply that those who submit to Wei prosper, and those who oppose Wei perish, nothing more. As for treating artisans, commoners, and soldiers well, is that not a good thing?"

"I once heard a saying: the tile-maker digs up all the earth before his door to fire tiles, yet not a single tile rests upon his own roof."

"Those wealthy and noble houses, princes and imperial in-laws — their ten fingers never touch so much as a speck of mud, yet they dwell in lofty towers and great mansions covered all over with tiles."

As expected of Ren Guang, he began vigorously burnishing Diwu Lun's spur-of-the-moment policy, investing it with profound meaning: "But now, the farmer can return to the Shanglin Park to open up the land, and the artisan can walk into the resplendent detached palace that his own hands built."

"And the soldier can eat the fish of Kunming Pool as he guards home and country."

"Toil is always rewarded — that is what sets the King of Wei apart from Wang Mang, Liu Bosheng, and Wei Ao!"

……

Meanwhile, among the Five Tombs north of the Wei River, at Maoling, the old slippery survivor of the former dynasty, Zhang Song, was leaning on his pigeon-staff and idly basking in the sun when a most unusual guest arrived.

"Guo Jun, it has been half a year. What leisure brings you to visit this old wreck today?"

Guo You, his neighbor from Shangguan Ward, had come — leading a crowd of the very old fellows who had mocked Zhang Song when he followed Diwu Lun north across the Wei. Their faces full of bitterness, they prostrated themselves before Zhang Song.

Was Chang'an not warm enough? Had life in Shangguan Ward grown uncomfortable?

"Bosong, we beg Bosong to resolve our confusion."

Guo You was utterly disheveled. "We are the elders elected by the two hundred thousand people of Chang'an. We knelt and beseeched the King of Wei to enter Chang'an and restore the capital to the imperial seat. Yet the King has already refused twice. The day before yesterday, at Duling, we sought audience with the King of Wei for the third time."

"By custom, after three refusals and three deferrals, he ought to have consented on the third time. Yet the King of Wei still refused — he would not even see us. His carriage drove straight east, to Lantian!"

The old fellows were at their wits' end and could only wail, "Could the King mean to emulate Great Yu, passing Chang'an thrice without entering?"

Zhang Song, however, remained silent, merely listening quietly as they described the frustrations of their three audiences. When they finished, he burst out laughing, then suddenly swung his hand and dealt Guo You a stinging slap across the face!

"Zhang Bosong, what is the meaning of this?" Guo You was shocked, furious, and humiliated — but Zhang Song only smiled without answering, pointed at the slap-mark on Guo You's plump face, and said to the others, "Wrong. It is not three."

"It is five!"