Chapter 555: To See a Thousand Li Further

In the third year of Wude (AD 27), Diwu Lun spent New Year's Day in Luoyang.

The New Year's Day of the second year, Diwu Lun had been hurrying out of Longyou, rushing to Heji to personally micromanage the final battle against the Red Eyebrows.

The New Year's Day of the first year, he had gone to Hebei to organize the campaign against Ji Province.

Only this year could he finally stay at home and enjoy a comfortable New Year. With this in mind, Dou Rong, who had just been promoted to Chancellor of the Right, was full of energy and eager to make a good showing.

It was said that as early as the Laba Festival, Dou Rong had come to Diwu Lun with a plan written across several scrolls and proposed, "The scholars and commoners of Luoyang rejoice that it has become the Central Capital, and all wish to celebrate. The Son of Heaven takes the four seas as his home — without magnificence, his majesty cannot be fully displayed. Why not hold a grand court audience at the Southern Palace for all officials, officers, and people?"

In Dou Rong's plan, the grand assembly at the Southern Palace would gather several thousand people, with the assembled officials shouting "Long live!" in unison, followed by a great banquet to entertain everyone, while also letting the people of Luoyang enter the palace to perform the hundred entertainments of fish and dragon dances.

"Then have the Eastern Yi perform the Spear Dance, the Southwestern Yi perform the Feather Dance, the Di and Qiang perform the Halberd Dance, and the Northern Yi perform the Shield Dance, to demonstrate our dynasty's might over all quarters!"

But Diwu Lun refused: "The clash of arms has not yet ceased across the realm; east, west, south, and north are all unsettled. Generals and soldiers are still out resisting the enemy, and the common people have barely survived the great chaos by luck. How could I bear to spend a thousand pieces of gold just to make New Year's Day lively? Issue an edict: during the New Year period, aside from the regular court audience, no grand ceremonies shall be held in the palace. Officers, officials, and commoners may enjoy themselves at home without restriction."

This was the greatest difference between Diwu Lun's simplicity and Wang Mang's approach. Wang Mang wished everyone under heaven to be a "sage" like himself, transforming customs overnight to bring back the Confucian ideals of men and women walking on separate sides of the road and no one picking up lost articles. Diwu Lun was strict only with himself and largely refrained from rashly interfering in how common people lived.

How could Dou Rong not understand this? But as Chancellor of the Right, he had to make a show of it. Once this matter was made known, it would perfectly highlight His Majesty the Emperor's love for the people, while the Chancellor of the Right was bound to take some criticism — and the more criticism, the safer Dou Rong would be.

On New Year's Eve, the day before the festival, before the assembled officials entered the palace for their audience, Diwu Lun took his son, Diwu Ming — strictly speaking, Crown Prince "Wu Ming" — up onto the walls of Luoyang's Southern Palace.

The Crown Prince was nearly five years old. Living within the palace precincts, he had been spared the famine, virulent disease, and the ravages of heat and cold that children his age outside suffered. He was growing up healthy, with red lips and white teeth, and those single-eyelid eyes of his could not be said to closely resemble Diwu Lun's — they were identical.

And Diwu Lun's education of his son had already begun, now that the boy was beginning to understand things.

Diwu Lun could not articulate any profound educational philosophy, nor did he hold great hopes that his son would succeed him or even surpass him. After all, the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment; a more Buddha-like detachment might yet bring pleasant surprises. As a father, Diwu Lun could only ensure he fulfilled the most basic duty: being present.

In previous years he had rushed about everywhere, and even when staying in Chang'an, he spent entire days facing mountains of memorials and an endless stream of visitors, with little time to care for his wife and children. Now that the north was largely pacified and suitable civil and military officials had been placed in every post, Diwu Lun could ease his mind a little.

Thus, when he came to Luoyang, Diwu Lun brought the Empress and the Crown Prince. A child of four or five is driven by the urge to play. Diwu Lun would set aside a little time each day to spend with him, and after meals he would even lead the boy by the hand for a stroll atop the Southern Palace walls, catching the last winter snow in their hands.

The Crown Prince also quite enjoyed playing on the city walls. When Diwu Lun lifted him up, his view could reach much farther. But on this New Year's Eve outing, the wards and lanes of Luoyang were as orderly as those of Chang'an, each like a little world unto itself. Yet between them and the Southern Palace, there was none of Chang'an's strict security; houses even stood right at the foot of the palace wall, with cooking smoke rising here and there. Suddenly a series of crackling pops rang out, and the child, far from being frightened, grew excited.

"The people of Luoyang are setting off firecrackers."

These firecrackers were true bamboo. It was a Luoyang custom to first burn bamboo tubes in front of the hall steps to ward off the mountain specter and evil spirits. The noise was far less than in later ages, but when it rose and fell across the entire city, it still startled the birds into fleeing far away.

Among those who had ascended the wall with Diwu Lun was the court poet Du Du, who held deep prejudices against Luoyang. He was likely a lover of quiet, and he frowned amid the crackling of the firecrackers, then petitioned Diwu Lun: "Your Majesty, I have heard that firecrackers originated from the sovereign's courtyard torches. Feudal lords, grandees, and ordinary officers and people should not misuse them."

Huan Tan, the Imperial Household Grandee who had come up with them, immediately retorted: "How come I have heard that setting off firecrackers is merely a folk custom to drive away the mountain specter monster?"

He looked at the little Crown Prince beside the Emperor, even crouched down, and smilingly began to tell a story: "I read of this in the Classic of Spirits and Oddities written by Dongfang Shuo."

"It says that on Mount Mang by Luoyang there is a kind of monster, just over a foot tall, with a single leg, and by nature unafraid of people. If one offends it, it causes chills and fever, making one fall ill. This strange creature is called the mountain specter, also known as the Little One-Leg or Youchao. But if you burn a bamboo tube in the fire, making popping and crackling sounds, the mountain specter will flee in fear."

Du Du prided himself on his wide learning and retentive memory, yet he had never even seen this book. Unable to challenge whether Huan Tan was making it up, he could only retort: "Does not Grandee Huan not believe in ghosts?"

Huan Tan rolled his eyes. "The mountain specter is not a ghost; it is a monster."

Du Du could only find another excuse: "Even so, the houses of Luoyang are old and dilapidated, mostly built during the Warring States and Former Han. Now the weather is dry and everything parched; setting off firecrackers may cause fires. Would it not be better to issue an order banning them?"

Hearing this, Diwu Lun stopped their argument and said first: "Regardless of the origin of firecrackers, what the common people delight in and enjoy is the greatest propriety. As for local customs, so long as they do no grievous harm, the authorities must not rashly ban them. As for the fire hazard…"

Diwu Lun continued: "Was the Luoyang Police Office not newly established? Let us see whether they can handle fire prevention properly."

This was a new system Diwu Lun was implementing in Luoyang. He had discovered that, apart from Chang'an, which had the Bearer of the Gilded Mace, the Governor of the Capital, and other offices maintaining large numbers of troops to manage the capital's public order, other major cities were lacking in this regard.

In large cities like Luoyang, populations easily reached one or two hundred thousand, yet the constables and ward overseers could only manage the tip of the iceberg, and were thoroughly corrupt. It was laughable to say: those on the public payroll did nothing, while the knights-errant of the underworld instead took on part of the "public order" function. In matters like disputes and fires, the various great and small knights-errant "shared the people's burdens" — while conveniently collecting protection fees. It had a touch of the surreal, like the gang members in some later-era South American country helping the government fight an epidemic.

Since the decision had been made to implement the Five Capitals system, the public order institutions in each city had to keep pace with the times. The constables and ward officers had decayed to the point of colluding and wallowing in filth with the underworld; the accumulated rot was too deep to reverse. Even if they were all dismissed and new ones recruited, it would be hard for new life to spring from this system.

Diwu Lun therefore decided to use Luoyang as a pilot and establish a new institution called the "Police Office," taking over some of the functions that had belonged to the constables and ward officers.

"Whenever the court issues a policy or promulgates an order, they can carry it out in every ward; whenever a commoner breaks a law or violates a prohibition, they can track them down. Where there are local failings or customs have deteriorated, the police officers can point out the abuses, remedy and rectify them, thus assisting where the local authorities fall short. Broadly speaking, those who patrol the city are called constables on the beat. Their duty is, in essence, to protect the common people. Protecting the common people consists of four things: first, extinguishing fires; second, sanitation; third, inspecting for violations; fourth, criminals."

In an era of timber-built cities, fire was often the greatest threat to a place's prosperity, and it could not be ignored. Diwu Lun personally guided the Commandant Diwu Biao and others step by step, formulating the Police Office regulations. Apart from the main office, a guard post was set up at each of the four key thoroughfares of Luoyang's east, west, south, and north districts. Some demobilized soldiers from Henan and Luoyang were also transferred to serve as police officers. Their efficiency in catching thieves was indeed higher than the local constables, and it was only a matter of time before they gradually replaced them. Within a mere month or so, Luoyang grew increasingly tranquil, and petty criminals no longer ran rampant.

Presumably, organizing firefighting in the wards and lanes should also be within their capability.

Seeing the Emperor's attitude, Du Du dared not speak further. And Diwu Lun did not wish to have his mood spoiled. He had come up onto the Southern Palace walls today also to test an object.

The officials of the Privy Treasurer presented an item that had been crafted and polished for nearly half a year by imperial order. It was a long tube, with a crystal-clear lens at each end. This was a treasure. The craftsman-official carefully wiped it again and again with a clean silk cloth, striving to leave not the slightest smudge — although Diwu Lun had ordered the Privy Treasurer to produce transparent glassware, it was a technology that had only just begun. The craftsmen had racked their brains and tested many processes, yet still could not achieve full transparency.

Diwu Lun was particularly eager for glass, because in the past two years he had discovered an embarrassing fact: he had actually become somewhat…

Nearsighted!

"Most likely from reviewing too many memorials by candlelight," Diwu Lun secretly regretted. But the brightest candles of this age were still inferior to any random electric lamp of later times. His government affairs were so busy they could not even be described as 996. Common folk crawled into bed to make babies as soon as it grew dark, but the Emperor still had to finish his work; otherwise, it would pile up day and night and could ruin major affairs.

So Diwu Lun only wished to quickly produce transparent glass and further create eyeglasses, to salvage his increasingly urgent eyesight.

Yet no one knew when transparent glass would mature. Although the court had plenty of tribute transparent crystal that could be polished smooth, teaching craftsmen to match the diopter was also a great challenge. So he could only wait patiently for now. Before that, another object had been born first.

"Junshi."

Diwu Lun singled out the most "materialist" fellow in the court and beckoned Huan Tan over, handing him the object. "Test this for me."

Huan Tan looked at the little device in his hand. Its casing was cast of brass, cold to the touch, and at each end was set a thin, transparent crystal lens, ground to be concave and convex.

He could not make sense of it and raised it, intending to put the larger end to his eye, but Diwu Lun laughingly corrected him.

Once he finally put his eye to the smaller end and looked toward the other side of the wall, a gigantic five-colored banner suddenly loomed before him, startling Huan Tan into quickly lowering it.

And once his eye left the telescope, that phantom-like vision instantly vanished. The banner he had aimed at was still distant and small, and before him were the smiling Diwu Lun and, at his side, the Crown Prince looking up full of curiosity.

"Your Majesty, this is…" Huan Tan sensed the weight of the object in his hands and was quite astonished.

Diwu Lun, however, said: "The ancients spoke of 'the eye reaching a thousand li.' Though this object cannot see a thousand li away, it can somewhat clearly make out things several hundred paces, even over a thousand paces distant. Thus I have named it the 'Thousand-Li Lens.' This is the crucial military tool to be sent to Cen Peng!"