Chapter 403: Changing the Surname

Yesterday's white carp was quite good — no strong muddy taste. It must have been an oddity from some powerful family's private pond or garden, perhaps even kept as an ornamental fish, hastily scooped out to play the part of an auspicious omen.

And on Diwu Lun's journey from Meng Crossing to the outer city, all he saw along the way were village hamlets reduced to mounds of rubble. In the fields that should have been harvested for autumn, a few wilted crops drooped listlessly. The farmers in the fields mostly had a famished, sallow look, and they feared the passing army as if it were a tiger.

Luoyang was in worse shape than Chang'an had been the year before. The people of Chang'an had gotten lucky — Diwu Lun and Liu Bosheng's forces were probably the best-disciplined of all the warlord armies. To empty the Imperial Granary, Diwu Lun had distributed months of grain to the capital's commoners, and had even let them loose in Wang Mang's palaces for a zero-cost shopping spree.

Liu Bosheng's men were a motley mix of dragons and fish, far less disciplined, but at least they still had a bottom line: they would rather sell off the palaces and gardens of the Former Han than openly plunder civilian households.

By comparison, Luoyang had fallen into bad hands. Colonel-Director of the Retainers Dou Rong had arrived half a month earlier and reported the local situation in brief to Diwu Lun.

"After the Xin dynasty's collapse, this place first became a battlefield for the remnants of the Xin army and the Greenwood Army. The various kings Liu Xuan sent to the Heluo region were mostly Greenwood Mountain bandit chieftains. When they plundered, they showed no mercy — from wealthy households to middling families to commoners, all suffered."

Yes, Luoyang was in utter chaos during that period — even the old Confucian scholars who had come specially to pledge allegiance to the Han met violent deaths...

What was worse, the Greenwood mountain lords were constantly rotated. In just one short year, Luoyang saw three different feudal lords sent to garrison it. Each had his own faction and army. The departing one would invariably give Luoyang a savage looting, and the new arrival would also need a taste of the spoils.

Diwu Lun shook his head as he listened. "With conduct like that, no wonder Luoyang's sky is three chi higher than Henei's."

Dou Rong did not catch the metaphor. Diwu Lun simply said, "Every time a feudal lord comes, he scrapes one chi of topsoil away. After three times, hasn't the sky become three chi higher for no reason?"

"Your Majesty's analogy is apt." Dou Rong continued, "Generals like Wang Kuang were mountain forest bandits; they didn't even know how to collect taxes. The last one, the King of Zheng, Liu Ci, did know — he levied the one-in-ten tax according to Han regulations."

"A one-in-ten tax, that low?" Diwu Lun was astonished. The tax was the rent. Even he collected forty percent. How could this King of Zheng be so conscientious?

But the truly spectacular part came next. Dou Rong shook his head. "The one-in-ten tax was not much, but to scrape together grain to hold Hongnong, this Liu Ci — though it was only the second year of Gengshi — had already collected the land tax in grain and fodder, along with all manner of harsh levies and miscellaneous taxes, up to the twentieth year of Gengshi!"

Diwu Lun was stunned. You could even play it that way? In Wang Mang's time, if the state treasury ran short, they would impose a "wealth tax" — that is, a property tax on everyone under heaven. That was already brazen and harsh enough. Who would have thought Greenwood could outdo them!

It was a good thing he had dealt the Xin dynasty its final blow. Otherwise, if it had perished at the hands of such opponents, old Wang Mang would not be able to close his eyes in death.

After he finished laughing, Diwu Lun felt pity for the people of Luoyang. Once he entered Luoyang's outer city, he discovered it was vastly different from Chang'an. Chang'an was thick with political atmosphere; the city's main body was its various palaces. But Luoyang was mostly markets, wards, and residential hamlets. Though the city was more cramped, the population it actually held far exceeded Chang'an's.

Yet as the royal carriage traveled through the streets of Luoyang, one could not feel the prosperity of the past thousand years — only desolation and ruin.

"I recall that Luoyang, in the Xin dynasty's time, had a full hundred thousand households!"

Luoyang had already surpassed Linzi and Chang'an, arguably the most populous city, approaching the half-million mark. And now?

Dou Rong had only made a rough calculation and simply said, "Now, I fear there are fewer than thirty thousand households."

A sharp drop of sixty or seventy percent! In just two short years of war, two to three hundred thousand people had vanished from the city. Though those who directly lost their lives were a minority, more people found that in chaotic times, they could not survive in the city and fled one after another. Half managed to cross the river and run to Henei; the rest scattered into the surrounding mountain regions. Some were also carried off by Greenwood.

This meant that, for Luoyang city alone, the population needing relief was not as large as imagined. Diwu Lun decided to give them a way to live.

"Since the Zhou dynasty, the people of Luoyang have excelled at trade. Since the Han, first there was Sang Hongyang, and later a great merchant like Shi Shi, who built his fortune on the transport industry, with hundreds of carts turning their hubs. Various commanderies and kingdoms even built 'Luoyang Streets.' Then there were the great merchants Zhang Changshu and Xue Zi, with wealth in the tens of thousands."

Yet these great merchant clans had all been wiped out in one sweep by Greenwood. This was also why Greenwood's rule rapidly collapsed everywhere: the Red Eyebrows at least knew to unite the lower classes; Liang Han understood how to co-opt the great clans. But Greenwood? Everywhere they went, except for Nanyang, they offended the upper and lower classes at the same time.

"It will take years for Luoyang's commerce to recover. For now, we'll stick with the old method of work-relief."

With their experience from Chang'an, the officials of the State of Wei were already adept at such matters. Diwu Lun ordered Feng Qin of Henei to begin shipping grain boats south. After recruiting good laborers, the army would lead them to the passes around Luoyang — many places needed repair and reinforcement.

"They say that wherever an army camps, thorns and brambles grow. But I hope that wherever the Wei army goes, it will not be so."

Diwu Lun could not guarantee that his army would not commit the slightest offense, but at least for now, no collective atrocities like massacring cities had occurred. And with so many men in the army needing food, clothing, and supplies, that in itself was a huge business.

The officers and soldiers were provided with room and board, with only a little extra cloth issued. How they spent it was their own affair.

"Though I regard Luoyang only as an outer screen for Henei, I still hope it can recover a bit of its vitality."

Diwu Lun's "traveling palace" was ready-made, located south of Luoyang city. There was a complex of palatial-style buildings there — the ancestral temple, altars of soil and grain, and suburban sacrificial sites that Wang Mang had ordered the Grand Minister of Works Wang Yi and others to construct.

Confucian scholars had always harbored a certain complex about Luoyang as the center of the world, feeling that Chang'an leaned toward hegemony, while Luoyang was the proper place to implement kingly rule. So Wang Mang, emulating the Zhou dynasty, made Luoyang the eastern capital of the Xin. To prove that Heaven also approved, he even concocted an auspicious omen — the "Dark Dragon Stone Script" — saying something about "establishing the imperial virtue, making the capital at Luoyang"...

In short, the framework of Luoyang's palaces was built by Wang Mang. Now it was a bargain for Diwu Lun, who could not help but say to Wang Jujun once more: "Thank you!"

Diwu Lun had to stay in Luoyang for a few days to receive the local powerful families and scholars, absorb a batch into the system, and set up the administrative teams for the Governor of Henan and the Magistrate of Luoyang.

Colonel-Director of the Retainers Dou Rong, however, requested leave from Diwu Lun: "I wish to go east first, to oversee the repair of Hulao Pass for Your Majesty, and also..."

He bowed with clasped hands. "I also wish to use public duty for private ends — to go to Chenggao to pay respects at the grave of an old friend."

Diwu Lun knew whom Dou Rong was going to mourn. "Colonel-Director of the Retainers, go ahead. I will stay in Luoyang a few days, then proceed to Yanshi County."

"On this journey east, I too received instructions from my royal grandfather to pay respects to someone!"

Hulao and Chenggao can actually be regarded as one place, quite close in distance — essentially the relationship between a pass and a city.

The former got its name from King Mu of Zhou caging a tiger at this pass; the latter takes its meaning from the high mountain ridges overlooking the Yellow River.

Hulao Pass faces the great river to the north, where the swift current rushes and sweeps past at the foot of the mountain, dozens of zhang below the pass.

The foothills of Mount Song stretch across to the south. Even the official road must climb ridges and cut through ravines. Looking closely from a height, the exits to the west branch into many forks, while to the east, the way opens smoothly onto the tablelands on both banks of the Fan River. The cliffs on both sides tower high, and the narrow passage between the ridges stretches east to west. The terrain closely resembles Hangu Pass and Tong Pass — all places where one man can hold the pass against ten thousand.

Chenggao city is also built atop a mountain ridge, with sheer banks and steep slopes all around. The bare ridge alone is over forty zhang high, and the city wall seems more like its parapet. The most famous military achievement here was stopping the advance of the Hegemon-King of Western Chu, preserving the balance between Chu and Han.

Dou Rong entered the city along the rough, uneven road. After a series of wars and changes of ownership, the city walls were severely damaged. The person he had come to mourn here was, naturally, the God of War of Kunyang, the Grand Minister of Works of the Xin dynasty, Wang Yi.

"Colonel-Director of the Retainers, I have made inquiries. Wang Yi died in these granary ruins — they say he burned himself to death."

Dou Rong looked at the blackened ruins, burned over a year ago. He simply laid out a small table of dishes, along with a pot of wine, and sighed with sorrow. "Lord Wang, Dou Rong has come to see you."

Wang Yi was not only the husband of Dou Rong's younger sister, but also Dou Rong's patron and superior. Over a decade ago, Dou Rong had followed him on campaigns against rebels, and together they had participated in the founding of the Xin.

After that, Dou Rong's official career had benefited greatly from his support.

It was only a pity that at Kunyang, the Grand Minister of Works had misunderstood him and actually imprisoned Dou Rong. Yet even that could not change the outcome of the great defeat at Kunyang. Three hundred thousand men were reduced to ashes. Dou Rong escaped west and defected to Diwu Lun. Wang Yi, in dire straits, retreated here. With the capital already fallen, he held Luoyang and Chenggao for several more months. But even with the natural defenses of mountains and rivers, he could not withstand the collapse of men's hearts and the desertion of allies and kin.

And the last thing Wang Yi did was to set the stored grain in Chenggao ablaze. His remains were reduced to ashes along with it. Dou Rong could not even build a grave mound for him.

"Now, in just one short year, the situation has changed beyond my recognition. The Greenwood that once trapped Lord Wang to his death has split apart and is nearly destroyed."

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Such is the way of chaotic times: various powers hurriedly take the stage, and for their own reasons, are defeated and exit. Dou Rong could only hope that Diwu Lun would have the last laugh.

Dou Rong sat before the ruins. With each word he spoke, he poured a little wine onto the ground, then drank half a cup himself. His tolerance for alcohol was modest, and he ended up drunk alone. These past few years, he had truly seen his fill of the rise and fall of empires.

In the end, he said with a trace of sorrow, "When Lian Dan died in battle at Chengchang, the Xin still stood. Wang Mang could still grant him the posthumous title 'Duke of Resolve.'"

"But the Grand Minister of Works cannot even enjoy a posthumous title or a feudal lord's burial."

Dou Rong tilted the wine pot, only to find it empty. He simply carried the pot into the ruins, scooped up soil mixed with charcoal ash, and stuffed it into the vessel, taking it as though Wang Yi's ashes were within.

"From now on, Rong will carry the Grand Minister of Works with him."

"You and I are both defeated generals under Liu Xiu. But Rong has the chance to see the King of Wei, one day, utterly destroy the various Han and defeat the King of Wu!"

……

At the same time, Diwu Lun also arrived at Yanshi County, between Luoyang and Chenggao. Guided by a local, he found an abandoned, deserted burial mound.

The desolate mound stood against the mountain, hard to spot without a careful search. The autumn wind set the yellowed grass swaying gently. A shepherd boy's song drifted through the dusk, like the elegy "Dew on the Shallot" of old.

But today, this grave welcomed a moment of glory: the King of Wei came in person, with over a thousand officials and soldiers in his retinue.

The desolate mound was not small in scale, but it had been badly damaged. Several obvious robber tunnels were visible, and the grave goods within were likely long gone.

The prominent Luoyang families and local magnates all trembled with fear, dreading that in a single fit of rage, the King of Wei would hold everyone within several dozen li accountable!

But it was nothing. Diwu Lun did not grow angry. He simply ordered the tunnels sealed and a detachment of troops left behind to guard the site.

After all, who could blame this grave for sending up green smoke and producing such a promising descendant?

This was Tian Heng's tomb. Back then, Tian Heng had taken his own life just as he was about to reach Luoyang. Emperor Gao of Han, respecting his character, dispatched two thousand soldiers to bury him here with the rites of a feudal lord. The retainers who had accompanied Tian Heng also committed suicide in his wake and were buried to his left and right. The five hundred warriors who killed themselves on the eastern island never had the chance to be interred here.

This was a request from the ailing Diwu Ba, who had asked Diwu Lun to pay respects to their ancestor. It was also the perfect occasion to formally bestow a posthumous title upon Tian Heng: "King Wu Zhuang of Qi."

Diba Jiao, the Minister of the Imperial Clan who had just arrived from Guanzhong, read the eulogy that the King's grandfather had commissioned him to write, lines like: "The lofty integrity of King Tian, whose guests admired his righteousness and followed Heng into death — was this not the utmost courage?"

Diwu Lun's expression was solemn, but in his heart, he was whispering to Tian Heng: "Though I occupy your descendant's body, I also built a temple for you beside the Han Gao Temple in Chang'an, making you neighbors with Liu Bang. I've done my utmost."

After the eulogy was read, the musicians struck up "Dew on the Shallot" and "Wormwood Lane." When the strains of "Dew on the shallot, how easily it dries" faded and the mood was just right, Diba Jiao promptly knelt before Diwu Lun and offered a suggestion befitting his duty as Minister of the Imperial Clan.

"Great King, after the death of King Wu Zhuang of Qi, his clan was divided into eight by the Han Emperor and relocated to Guanzhong. Based on the order of relocation, they were given the surnames Diwu, Diba, and so on — a gesture meant to humiliate and divide."

"Now, Great King, you have raised a righteous army, destroyed the Xin, swept through Guanzhong, and rolled across the Sili region. The common people turn their hearts to you, and all quarters look up to your virtue."

"The house of Han brought calamity upon the realm, until the Central Plains were drenched in blood and littered with corpses. You, Great King, comfort the people and punish the guilty. The ancients said: 'If the name is not correct, the words will not flow smoothly.' It is no longer fitting to use a character the Liu clan meant as a slur as your surname. You should restore the old surname!"

Restore the old surname — this was a suggestion Diba Jiao had made right after Diwu Lun took the title of King, and by the way, he wanted the various clan branches, from Diba to Diyi, to restore theirs as well.

This was indeed something Diwu Lun had been considering all along. Now, with the occasion of paying homage at Tian Heng's tomb, the conditions were ripe.

However, he had no intention of taking the surname Tian — being called Tian Lun. And as for "Wang Lun," which Wang Mang had nearly bestowed upon him, that was even less worth mentioning.

Diwu Lun then said: "The ancients said: 'Do not attempt what cannot be done; do not seek what cannot be obtained; do not dwell where one cannot stay; do not walk a path that cannot be retraced.'"

"The ancient state of Qi has already perished. The Tian clan of old has already divided; it can never be restored. Have you not seen that the Tian of Qi originated from the state of Chen, yet King Xuan of Qi and others never restored the surname Chen?"

Diwu Lun had no intention of retracing any steps, nor would he give his clan or court officials such an opportunity. The path must grow ever wider, not narrow into a small circle for the family's private amusement. As for following Wang Mang's example and randomly seeking relatives among the Yao, Chen, Tian, and other surnames descended from Emperor Shun — that was even less advisable.

People must look forward!

Diwu Lun had long since decided: his given name would not change, but his surname would be the one from his previous life!

It was like his own state — an ancient body housing a soul from a later age. It would also serve to remind himself, as he grew ever more accustomed to this era and lost himself in a certain role: do not forget who you are, where you came from, and where you are going.

Before Tian Heng's tomb, Diwu Lun swept his gaze over the crowd and proclaimed:

"I wish to change my surname to..."

"Wu!"

……

PS: For ease of reading, the text will still use "Diwu Lun," and the other characters will not change either.