Chapter 363: A Lonely Rebellion

Xuan Bing, the Deputy Imperial Counselor, only received word when the King of Wei had already entered the government office. He hurriedly swallowed his food, rinsed his mouth, and rushed out to receive him.

"I had no idea Your Highness would come in person."

Diwu Lun, however, smiled and waived the formalities. "A hundred tasks await. I know the Deputy Counselor is busy — no need for excessive ceremony."

The head of the Censorate was originally the Imperial Counselor, but in the last years of the Former Han, the Imperial Counselor was renamed Grand Minister of Works, and the Censorate came under the charge of the Deputy Imperial Counselor instead.

Diwu Lun restored the office's name, but its authority remained unchanged — because Jing Dan, the Imperial Counselor, was being worked like two men by the King of Wei, handling military affairs with one hand and civil administration with the other, already impossibly busy. Where would he find time to oversee inspections? The weighty responsibility was therefore entrusted to Xuan Bing, a man of Yunyang in Pingyi Commandery.

Xuan Bing, courtesy name Jugong, had not only served as an Imperial Censor under the Han, governing with integrity and forcefully remonstrating with Emperor Ai of Han several times — when Wang Mang took power, he resigned from office and lived in seclusion, and in the later period was even arrested by the Master of Fates of the Five Majesties on trumped-up charges.

His son Xuan Biao went further and became one of the Boar-Rush Braves, following Diwu Lun to New Qinzhong — he was among the earliest of the old followers. After Diwu Lun became Governor, he intervened to help, securing Xuan Bing's release. But Xuan Bing dared not stay long in Guanzhong either, so he went to Shang Commandery. Advanced in years, he fell ill before the year's end and only made the journey south after spring began.

Being a fellow townsman and the father of an old follower, and with Diwu Lun having shown him the grace of rescue, Xuan Bing was politically reliable — the most suitable candidate to head the Censorate.

Stepping into the Censorate, Diwu Lun saw that the censors' meals were all the standard Weiyang Palace fare of two dishes and a soup — meat at every meal could not be guaranteed, but there was certainly always a fish.

Xuan Bing alone brought his own earthenware and ate only vegetables. It was also said that he often went days without returning to his home in Shangguan Quarter, simply sleeping right in the office.

Diwu Lun then walked further inside and saw nothing but simple cotton clothes and cotton bedding, no different from a minor clerk.

The King of Wei sighed with emotion. "The two Gongs of Chu in the former dynasty lived plainly, yet even they could not compare to you, Xuan Jugong of Yunyang."

Gong Sheng had been a high official of the former dynasty and had also overseen inspections. When Wang Mang usurped the Han and summoned him to court, Gong Sheng starved himself to death. Diwu Lun's comparison carried profound implications.

Xuan Bing replied modestly, "Your servant grew accustomed to it in those years of seclusion, tilling the fields with my own hands…"

But Diwu Lun's face turned stern. "The Censorate's business is of grave importance. What if you, Jugong, fall ill?" He promptly ordered that cloth, silk, curtains, and other daily necessities be sent over, so that even if Xuan Bing stayed in the office, he might do so more comfortably.

After the others withdrew, Diwu Lun took a seat and looked at Xuan Bing. "The matter you, Jugong, memorialized about — I have already examined it. I came to the Censorate today to discuss it with you."

It turned out that a few days earlier, seeing that the laws and ordinances of the State of Wei had not been clarified after entering Chang'an, and that the corrupt practices of the late Han and the Xin under Wang Mang were gradually resurfacing, Xuan Bing had proposed a crackdown.

Diwu Lun nodded. "What does the Deputy Counselor intend to do?"

He remembered very clearly that Wang Mang's era had also carried out an exceedingly "strict" anti-corruption campaign. Officials guilty of embezzlement and bribery had four-fifths of their family property confiscated to aid border emergencies. Petty clerks were mobilized and encouraged to report their superiors, and slaves to report their masters, in the hope that harsh laws and severe punishments would eradicate corruption.

Yet the result… corruption only grew more intense. After a round of crackdowns, plenty of tigers and flies did indeed fall from power, but it did nothing to save the Xin Dynasty's fate — and it thoroughly enraged the entire official class.

Even someone like Xuan Bing, who took integrity as his personal duty, could not comprehend Wang Mang's actions. "As the saying goes, when conduct fails to achieve its aim, seek the cause within oneself. The Xin, on the pretext that the realm was not yet stable, gave no salaries to anyone, from dukes and marquises above down to minor clerks below. Later, salaries were tied to local disasters and portents — increased in years of plenty, reduced in lean years, and eliminated in years of calamity… As it turned out, every year was a year of calamity. With the officials thus unable to keep warm or fed, they naturally took desperate risks, colluded for illicit gain, and redoubled their extortion of the common people. How could they not become corrupt?"

"Wang Mang wished to become a sage himself, and also sought to make every grain-ration clerk take the sage as his standard — naturally, it was impossible."

Xuan Bing recommended to Diwu Lun the method he favored more. "Emperor Xuan of Han's approach to fighting corruption was still the more appropriate one."

"In the third year of Shenjue, Emperor Xuan of Han issued an edict: When officials are not upright and fair, the way of governance declines. Yet minor clerks all labor diligently while their salaries are meager — to expect them not to prey upon the common people is difficult indeed! He therefore ordered that officials ranked at one hundred shi and below receive a fifteen-percent salary increase."

Originally, Western Han official salaries, from the central government down to the grassroots, were divided into over twenty grades. The lower the post, the thinner the salary. Emperor Xuan of Han had grown up among the common people and had seen no small number of scenes where the people were exploited and extorted by officials.

Yet this emperor did not vent his righteous fury by making an example of the minor clerks. Instead, he raised the wages of grassroots civil servants by half, hoping they might live a little more comfortably, without having to rack their brains to squeeze the common people just to survive.

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Xuan Bing praised this highly, but Diwu Lun thought that the effect of high salaries to foster integrity was, in truth, far too hit-or-miss. Still, it was at least better than Wang Mang's way — Emperor Xuan of Han had, at minimum, earned a good name for it.

But Diwu Lun did not say this openly. He merely smiled and said, "Very good. I have already ordered that salary grades be weighed and fixed, the evil policies of Wang Mang's time abolished, and salaries restored to Han-era levels starting from the third month."

Diwu Lun knew that a major reason Wang Mang had abolished salaries was that in the early years of the Xin Dynasty, it had wholesale inherited the accumulated rot of the Former Han — redundant officials were an extreme problem, and the treasury was insufficient to pay wages.

Compared to Old Wang, Diwu Lun had it much easier. Nearly all of Guanzhong had been smashed apart and reorganized.

In the city of Chang'an today, aside from the Three Excellencies, the Nine Ministers, and the essential clerks for the one hundred sixty wards, there had been no massive expansion in recruitment. Civil servants of the former dynasty were not guaranteed to keep their posts either. After the chaos of war had washed away vast numbers of personnel, the total number of clerks was less than one-fifth of what it had been under the Xin Dynasty.

With the State of Wei traveling light, Diwu Lun had the confidence to pay those in office their full salaries in grain — and he did not have to consider the copper cash that had already been largely scrapped or the problem of inflation.

As the conversation went further, Xuan Bing was constrained by his perspective as an old Confucian scholar and could no longer offer Diwu Lun any further insights. After the King of Wei left the Censorate, he could only sigh quietly to himself:

"This is already the most incorruptible official to be found in the realm, yet apart from moral edification, he too has no effective method whatsoever."

As for the naive notion that "harsh laws in chaotic times will naturally cure corruption"… Diwu Lun could only refrain from saying outright that the "tiger" within his own government was none other than the younger brother of the dignified Commandant of Justice, Peng Chong — Peng Chun, the Labor and Evaluation Officer of Right Fufeng!

This whelp had been found out by the Embroidered Uniform Envoys: when receiving the assets of anti-Wei powerful families in Right Fufeng, he had lined his own pockets and reaped huge benefits. His elder brother Peng Chong still knew nothing of it, but he could not escape responsibility.

Furthermore, the Commandant of the Capital, Diqi Biao, had taken several women home as concubines — and they were very likely gifts from the qingxia of the city, hoping that Brother Biao would shield them.

Diyi Guan, presuming on his status as a clan kinsman, had gotten Yunyang County to transfer some of the land of rebellious powerful families into his own name. Diliu Du had also been egged on to get involved. Both men were living in the Northern Palace, keeping Diwu Ba company.

There was also the Market Director, Disi Xian, showing favoritism to old acquaintances, letting them occupy the best spots in the East and West Markets. And the subordinates of Marquis of Shangyan, Zheng Tong, had gotten drunk in Lantian and beaten a commoner severely. Zheng Tong had slipped money to the local officials to make a big case small and a small case nothing — but the Lantian Deputy Magistrate had not dared to accept it and had directly ruled them innocent…

Case after case, incident after incident — all had occurred within the span of a single month. Men are not sages; Diwu Lun's clansmen, generals, and officials each had their own flaws — lust, greed, covering for their own. After the regime was established, these failings were exposed, magnified, and even exploited by others.

But what shocked Diwu Lun the most?

"Of these matters, the Censorate, charged with inspecting the hundred officials, has not reported a single one. It was only when Zhang Yu of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and others dispatched men to tour the regions that they were heard of and uncovered…"

Diwu Lun's sudden visit today to speak with Xuan Bing was precisely to test him — did Xuan Jugong truly not know, or was he only pretending not to know!

If even Xuan Bing, whom he trusted, turned out to be a two-faced man, then Diwu Lun would have to face a real tiger's den.

Fortunately, after this round of probing, Xuan Bing genuinely had not known. It was the censors of the Censorate who looked flustered — most likely they had acted on their own authority, deceiving their superiors and concealing the truth from those below.

What they had reported were all corruption cases involving people with no backing — at any rate, handling a dozen or so cases a month, no one could say the Censorate was not doing its job.

Diwu Lun did not explode on the spot. A new regime could not conjure a corps of incorruptible officials out of thin air. To keep Chang'an running, the various government offices were mostly staffed by holdovers from the former dynasty, or even the dynasty before that — only they were familiar with how the institutions operated.

But it was also among these very people that too much filth was hidden. They were the flies within the regime. Even though Diwu Lun had swept through the house piled high with the countless refuse of the Han and the Xin, they still nested here.

After returning to the Chamber of Proclamation, Diwu Lun dismissed everyone else, spread out a sheet of paper, picked up his brush, and began to ponder the whole matter.

"No fight against corruption — the state perishes."

On the paper, he wrote down five questions:

"Who investigates? How to investigate? If uncovered, do we strike or not? Who does the striking? How to strike?"

For the first two questions, Diwu Lun already had a design. Besides the Censorate inspecting the hundred officials, he had currently also established the "Chancellor's Rectifier" — an institution that had operated in parallel with the Censorate under the Han, whose original duty was to assist the Chancellor in impeaching unlawful conduct. Huang Chang served as Rectifier, and the personnel were all brand-new. It seemed he would have to rely on them, while simultaneously keeping the Censorate itself under watch, and when the time was right, purge its ranks.

Beyond that, there was the "Embroidered Uniform Guard," built on the foundation of the Han and Xin Embroidered Uniform Envoys, with Zhang Yu serving as "Embroidered Uniform Commandant" and a group of young Embroidered Uniform Gentlemen under him.

"The Censorate and the Rectifier operate in the open; the Embroidered Uniform Guard in the shadows. I am still short one Colonel-Director of Retainers to tour the regions."

Yet after running through everyone in his mind, he could find no suitable candidate for the post for the time being — they were either unfit or already shouldering other heavy responsibilities.

This was what Diwu Lun found most frustrating. Certain men were plainly riddled with flaws — greedy for wealth, lustful, and ill-tempered — yet you could not afford not to use them. Because the realm was not yet settled, and beyond morality and ability, the King of Wei also had to weigh the question of loyalty.

This then touched on the question of "to strike or not to strike."

"If I were a judge, faced with such men, naturally it would be a matter of black and white, my eyes tolerating no grain of sand."

"But I am an emperor, the lord of a realm — that makes it different again."

Diwu Lun rose and pondered: "Under the newly enacted crimes of kidnapping, embezzlement, accepting bribes, and land seizure, several of the Nine Ministers, scores of thousand-bushel officials, and most of the officers and clerks in the army would all have to be dealt with."

But sweeping them all away in one breath might feel satisfying — and then what? Do we still fight the war at the front? Do we still carry on construction in the rear? Once they're purged, will morale rise? Will administrative efficiency improve?

You can't grab eyebrows and beard together and slice with one stroke — what you cut away may not be hair, but flesh and blood.

Diwu Lun now understood why anti-corruption campaigns mostly happen in times of good order or peace, and are so rare in times of chaos.

Because in chaotic times, you have plenty of great villains and great evil-doers who openly seize with spear and blade; the powerful officials who carve out territory are practically local lords, enjoying the full tribute of a region — they have no need to be corrupt. Bandits who rampage through the countryside kill and plunder with no one to punish them.

Compared to them, those who secretly use their office to fish for perks are, by contrast, petty villains and petty evil-doers — practically honest men.

So among the problems uncovered this time by the Director of Rectification and the Embroidered Uniform Guard, which people should be publicly punished to kill the chicken and warn the monkeys, and which should be kept secret while other means are found to rap them on the knuckles — all of this Diwu Lun had to sift through and consider one by one.

But Diwu Lun was clear that the true root of why "anti-corruption" was so difficult to handle still lay in the fourth problem.

"Who will do the fighting?"

Rely on his own brother-in-law, the Commandant of Justice Peng Chong, who was still oblivious even when his own kin got into trouble?

Rely on that lot in the Censorate — those former dynasty censors sunk in lethargy, who covered up major matters and reported only trifles?

Rely on the county magistrates and bureau clerks out in the provinces, who stood in awe of the new nobility, the imperial clan, and the generals?

Or should the King of Wei roll up his own sleeves and step into the arena himself?

Dismissing all these people was easy — but who would be used to replace them?

Without a brand-new corps of officials, anti-corruption? One could only end up like Wang Mang, fighting a lonely void. Striking tigers? Nothing more than giving oneself a placebo.

What's more, fighting corruption in the ancient world… Diwu Lun was a realist; he had never held much hope. But neither could he ignore it entirely. A thousand-li dyke collapses from an ant nest. You can't exterminate every termite — you can only discover one nest and destroy it, one at a time, to delay the day the dyke gives way.

For now, the only course was to use the momentum of a thunderbolt to take down one exemplar first — say, the Commandant of Justice Peng Chong's younger brother — to frighten the rest. Then set standards, draw red lines, and make all the officials feel the heat.

Don't be afraid of problems emerging in the regime — the sooner they are exposed, the better! That it's hard to get a grip now does not mean it will always be so.

A truly all-out, high-profile anti-corruption drive would have to wait until after the powerful enemies were crushed and a new corps of officials had been built up.

Diwu Lun said to himself: "Therefore, the civil service examination on the first day of the third month, and the selection of officials through the five subjects — these absolutely must go forward!"