Chapter 66: I Thought for Ten Days and Ten Nights

"I've thought for ten days and ten nights, and I still can't fathom why Your Majesty would want to start a war with the Xiongnu."

Behind the desk in the Liewei Commandery office sat a face clouded with worry. Ten days had passed since Wang Mang had brazenly declared war on the Xiongnu, and Zhang Zhan still found the matter unreal.

Now everyone knew: the two failed expeditions against the Gouding had left the southern interior in chaos, with three commanderies in open revolt; Li Chong, Protector-General of the Western Regions, had been besieged in Kucha for three years, hoping for the court's relief; and the Western Sea and Jincheng regions, stirred by restive Qiang tribes, were as precarious as a stack of eggs.

On top of that, domestic rebellions were flaring up one after another, and "bandits" east of the Pass were rising in frequent uprisings. In this season of troubles, the Xiongnu had actually been the quietest party of all.

Yet Wang Mang seemed to think he didn't have enough enemies. Once the edict was issued, the whole court and country were stunned.

"Grand Governor, your subordinate feels the same. I fear another sixty years of thought would still yield no understanding. Perhaps it is the mind of a sage Son of Heaven, beyond the fathoming of us ordinary folk."

Diwu Lun was baffled too, and could only console himself: Wang Mang's actions must never be measured by common sense.

This was the greatest insight he had gained in over a year since arriving in this era. Wang Mang, who held Heaven's mandate in his mouth yet loved to act on whim, always moved beyond all expectation. Every few days, from the Shoucheng Chamber in Chang'an, he would release a few black swans, throwing the realm into turmoil.

Looking across past and present, only the Great Leader of a certain nation could claim a measure of Wang Mang's flair.

Wang Mang was certainly not just talking for sport, but war requires money, grain, chariots, and horses. As the art of war rightly states: For any military operation, with a thousand swift chariots, a thousand heavy supply wagons, a hundred thousand armored troops, and provisions carried a thousand li — the expenses at home and abroad, the costs of envoys and guests, the materials of glue and lacquer, the upkeep of chariots and armor, will amount to a thousand pieces of gold a day. Only then can a host of a hundred thousand be raised.

Wang Mang's claim of fielding a million troops was, of course, sheer nonsense, but war was inevitable. The state treasury was empty — so where would the money come from?

This could hardly stump Wang Mang. In just a few days, three edicts came swishing down to the commandery, like three axe-blows splitting Zhang Zhan's skull and leaving him dizzy.

"The Son of Heaven orders that all officials from the highest ministers down to the yellow-sash wearers in the commanderies and counties shall maintain warhorses, the number varying according to rank."

Zhang Zhan spoke with a complicated expression: "That is to say, I, as Grand Governor, am of the two-thousand-bushel rank, and must provide twenty horses."

Diwu Lun glanced at the yellow sash at his waist. "As for your subordinate, my rank is equivalent to three hundred bushels, calculated at three hundred — I must provide three horses."

What kind of twisted genius came up with this idea?

In Wang Mang's view, yellow-sash officials were at minimum commandery-level section heads, drawing so much salary from the court that they could surely afford to keep three or five horses. Now they would simply suffer the inconvenience of walking to work, while their horses were contributed to the state. Each commandery could levy at least a hundred horses — the warhorse problem, solved in one stroke.

But on what grounds?

Take Diwu Lun's own case. In the past, his family couldn't even produce two horses of matching color, and had been mocked for it at banquets. After setting up their business, things had improved a little, and they had added three or four new horses to the household. Were they now to hand them all over?

Horses were very expensive in this age, with prices ranging from ten thousand to over a million cash. Even calculating by the cheapest draft horses and nags, three horses meant thirty thousand cash — equivalent to more than half a year's salary for Diwu Lun, and that was assuming the salary was paid in full, which was nearly impossible.

Wang Mang was, in effect, demanding that every official in the realm donate a full year's income to support a war that was never necessary in the first place.

Zhang Zhan could not suppress his sighs. He had always been incorruptible. Twenty horses would force the Grand Governor, with tears in his eyes, to dismiss all his private retainers and subordinate clerks and empty his family coffers.

Just then, a group of officials arrived outside and knelt before the hall.

"Lord Zhang!"

Diwu Lun and Zhang Zhan went out to look. It was the assembled section heads of the commandery office: the Merit Evaluator, the Five Offices Clerk, the Bandit Section Head, the Judgments Section Head, the Left and Right Military Section Heads, and other officials — all wearing yellow sashes and full official robes.

Only the Literature Section Head, a certain Luo, had removed his cap and robes. Kneeling on the ground, he held his small seal and sash in both hands, his face full of sorrow, and said: "Your subordinate's household is poor, and I must also feed my wife and children, barely scraping by on an insufficient salary. Now I am required to donate three horses — I truly cannot raise them. I have no choice but to resign my post. I beg the commandery lord to permit it!"

After so long in the commandery, Diwu Lun had long since seen through each colleague's character and recorded it in his little notebook. This newly arrived Literature Section Head Luo was one of the rare few who earned a checkmark on his list.

He was indeed one of those exceedingly rare incorruptible officials, always in plain clothes and cloth bedding, eating simple fare from earthenware, strictly adhering to the Confucian code. He had never imagined the court would pull something like this.

Several other section heads also harbored intentions to resign. Most were men of integrity whom Zhang Zhan had personally recruited, coming from humble backgrounds.

By contrast, the Merit Evaluator and the Treasury Section Head, whose hands were never clean in ordinary times, took this with perfect equanimity. They were already well-versed in the ways of trading power for money, having even evaded last year's anti-corruption drive. This time it was just three horses, wasn't it? With a little unscrupulous maneuvering, they could recoup the cost in no time.

An absurd scene unfolded: the horse levy drove honest officials to resign, while the corrupt schemed to shift the calamity onto the common people and even profit from it. Wang Mang's stroke of anti-integrity, pro-corruption policy was truly a masterclass in shooting oneself in the foot.

Zhang Zhan was deeply moved. With tears in his eyes, he said it was all because he, the Grand Governor, had failed in his duties. But this good-natured man was helpless and could only grant their requests.

No sooner had the resigning section heads departed than the Grand Governor's office gate was blocked again, clamorous with noise, as people shouted to see Zhang Zixiao and demand an explanation.

Zhang Zhan felt his head ache. He went out again with Diwu Lun to look, and found a sea of vermilion and purple — not common folk, but the commandery's powerful local magnates, bristling with indignation...

The man at their head was none other than Fan Zhu, the county magnate whom they had once encountered at Changping Lodge.

This descendant of Fan Kuai today truly displayed something of the spirit of the Feast at Hongmen. He glared at Zhang Zhan with wide, furious eyes, his hair standing on end, the corners of his eyes nearly splitting, and bellowed:

"Grand Governor Zhang! We have heard that the commandery actually intends to levy a tax of three thousand six hundred cash for every slave, on all from the highest ministers down to local magnates — on every household that owns slaves. This is something unheard of since ancient times. Is there still any law left in this realm?"

The most populous areas of Liewei Commandery were the two districts of Changling and Yangling. In Han times, large numbers of descendants of the founding meritorious officials had been settled there. Though their family fortunes had declined, every one of them was a local power: Changling had eleven leading families, headed by the Xiao clan of Marquis of Xiaoxiang and the Fan clan; Yangling had twelve families, including the Zhang clan, descendants of Zhang Liang, Marquis of Liu.

The wealth and land of these remnants and scions of the former dynasty accounted for more than half of the entire commandery.

And now, Wang Mang's second axe-blow had fallen, squarely and unerringly, upon their heads.

It was extremely common for local magnates, wealthy farmers, and propertied households to keep slaves. Diwu Lun's own family had seven or eight. As household slaves, they rose early to sweep, washed and scrubbed, and performed all manner of menial tasks. Field slaves had to till the land for their masters. Whether a slave's life was good or bad depended entirely on what kind of master they met.

Other magnates owned far more slaves — dozens or even a hundred was commonplace. A family like that of Wang Yuan, Marquis of Qiongcheng, had as many as several hundred.

Diwu Lun estimated that the current number of slaves nationwide accounted for at least one-tenth of the total population!

Seeing Fan Zhu's agitation, on the verge of grabbing Zhang Zhan to demand an explanation, Diwu Lun hurriedly tried to placate them: "Lord Fan, this is indeed the law..."

"Every word of it is an edict issued by the imperial court, absolutely not a fabrication of the commandery office. If Lord Fan does not believe it, you are free to send someone to the Reception Office in Chang'an to inquire."

No wonder the Marquis of Xiaoxiang's family had not come — they must have learned the inside story and knew there was no reversing it. Fan Zhu was stunned, and could only protest: "How is it that there has never been such a decree in the past? For as long as I can remember, slaves have always been the property of each household, not counted in the household registry, not subject to tax."

"The former dynasty is the former dynasty; the present dynasty is the present dynasty." Zhang Zhan was, after all, a court-appointed official. He put on a stern face and rebuked them: "Moreover, in the time of Han Emperor Ai, a slave-limitation edict was also issued: two hundred slaves for feudal princes and kings, one hundred for marquises and princesses, thirty for Inner Marquises and common officials and people. The present dynasty also has its decree on royal fields and private dependents. Yet the slaves held by magnates have not decreased but increased, angering His Majesty, and thus we have today's matter."

Zhang Zhan still believed in Wang Mang, and was doing his best to justify this for him.

Fan Zhu muttered: "Then what are we to do? My household has over a hundred slaves. Am I truly to pay several hundred thousand in tax money?"

The so-called "over a hundred" was already a reduced figure after concealment, yet Fan Zhu still wailed in distress. The court was taking a knife to the flesh of the magnates, and who knew if this would become a permanent measure? If it were levied year after year, wouldn't it be the death of them?

Fan Zhu silently calculated the accounts in his mind: "Two young slaves are worth thirty thousand cash; one adult male or female slave is worth twenty thousand cash. Adult slaves do more work and are indeed worth paying for, but young slaves are not. Better to..."

These magnates were all ruthless characters. Among the impoverished peasantry, to save the annual poll tax of a few dozen cash per child, some would even resort to drowning their infants — let alone for a sum this large.

It was likely that from the next month onward, the old, weak, sick, and disabled slaves of the magnates' households would mostly "die of illness," or be driven out mercilessly into the winter cold. For those unable to fend for themselves, not being a slave was a life even more miserable than being one.

Diwu Lun quickly added: "The edict also says that if one is unwilling to pay the money, the slaves may be handed over to the authorities to become government slaves!"

"Is this not outright plunder!" Fan Zhu erupted in fury once more, now understanding the court's true aim. But this time, it was their turn to be the meat on the chopping block, their protests futile.

Besides private slaves, the realm also had many government slaves, mainly assigned to the Mint and the Privy Treasurer to perform heavy manual labor, and also temporarily conscripted for building city walls and garrison duty.

In the time of Han Emperor Yuan, the government slaves of the Privy Treasurer and the Chief Commandant of Waters and Parks numbered over a hundred thousand, while the government slaves tending horses in the northwestern commanderies numbered thirty thousand. Under Wang Mang, more than a hundred thousand commoners convicted of private coinage were degraded to government slaves. It was precisely these people who, in silence, created the vast wealth of the imperial estates, imperial fields, and Privy Treasurer workshops.

This was Wang Mang's shrewd calculation: by collecting a slave-holding tax, he would obtain vast sums of money and silk, and the war expenses would be covered.

If the magnates were unwilling to pay for their slaves, they would hand them over to the state — and thus the horse-tending slaves and the civilian laborers to transport grain to the front lines during the war would all be ready at hand.

Raising the supplies and funds for a large-scale war entirely through crowdfunding — there's really no one else like him.

"It seems we have no other choice."

However arrogant the Fan Zhu and other powerful families might be, they dared not oppose the court right in the capital region. They dispersed and returned home grudgingly, but in their hearts, these leftover loyalists of the old dynasty could not help missing the former dynasty.

They who had once been indifferent to the fall of the House of Han now all held back tears and said to themselves: "The Great Han was still better. From Emperor Gao down to Emperor Xiaocheng, they treated our ancestors like family and never once levied a tax on slaves!"

……

"You promised that once we bought new horses, you'd let me ride one. Now it's all gone."

As they left the commandery seat once more, Diwu Fu stared at the two old oxen pulling the cart ahead and grumbled endlessly. Diwu Lun had made him hand over the family's three horses to the commandery clerks; watching the horses he had raised himself being given away with clasped hands, he was full of resentment.

Diwu Lun leaned back on the ox cart and laughed. "When we're not in a hurry, I actually prefer the ox cart. It pulls steady and doesn't jolt like a horse-drawn carriage."

He had already changed out of his official robes and was traveling in ordinary clothes. Though the realm was stirring with unrest, Diwu Lun was, for once, relaxed and at leisure. From now on, he would no longer have to rush about on official business at his superiors' command.

The ox cart had just entered the territory of Linqu Township when someone, no one knew who, spotted them and spread the word. By the time they neared Diwu Village, large numbers of farmers had surged out from several hamlets and blocked the way in front of Diwu Lun's cart, their sun-darkened faces full of grief, fury, and despair.

"Clan Head, please, Clan Head, you must stand up for us!"

Although Diwu Lun had merged the seven clans into one lineage after last year's year-end sacrifice, the common folk of each clan did not yet hold him in such high regard. It was mostly when trouble arose that they diligently called him "Clan Head."

Diwu Lun motioned for the big fellow leading the group to step forward. He was a man of the Diyi clan, clearly a fine hand at farming, named Diyi Jiming — probably born at cockcrow.

Jiming had great strength and a voice to match. "Clan Head, this morning a commandery clerk came and told the village headman that the Emperor has issued an edict to levy a tax on all officials and commoners across the realm — one part in thirty of assessed wealth! That's like every household having to pay the poll tax all over again. Is it true?"

Diwu Lun sighed and answered, "It is indeed true!"

This was the third axe blow Wang Mang had struck. The first two had targeted officials and powerful families; this one was aimed at everyone present. Regardless of rank or status, all would have to obediently hand over grain equivalent to one-thirtieth of their household property to contribute to the war effort.

Once Diwu Lun confirmed the news, the commoners erupted in an uproar. Some cursed and swore; others sat down on the spot and wept bitterly.

"We already sold our grain cheap just to pay the poll tax and the child tax. We have barely any rations left, and now they want to add another levy — isn't this just taking our lives?"

"This winter my children will go hungry."

"How are we supposed to survive the lean months when the old grain is gone and the new hasn't come in?"

Aside from the people of Diwu Village, who had borrowed relief money to pay their taxes and still had grain left, the poor in every other hamlet were struggling right at the subsistence line. This sudden new tax made their already impoverished families even worse off.

Jiming, however, was unruffled. The idea to block Diwu Lun's cart had been his, so he had naturally thought of a solution. He stepped forward again and said loudly, "But the Clan Head is the Revenue Clerk — he's the one in charge of tax collection and wealth assessment!"

"So that's how it is!" Hope flared again among the farmers.

Jiming waved a hand. "The Clan Head only needs to make a small change in the registers, mark our household wealth a little lower, and we can save a great deal of grain! Isn't that right!"

"Yes! Clan Head, please save us!"

It was hardly that simple. Diwu Lun shook his head, stood up on the ox cart, and clasped his hands toward them. "Fellow elders and villagers, I am no longer in charge of tax and wealth assessment!"

"What?"

Diwu Lun spread his arms, revealing his empty waist.

"I have already returned my seal and ribbon and resigned from the post of Revenue Clerk to the Grand Governor!"

……

PS: Please send recommendation tickets.

A tax was levied on all officials and commoners throughout the realm, one part in thirty of assessed wealth; silk and cloth were all to be transported to Chang'an. From the Excellencies and ministers down to the yellow-ribboned officials of the commanderies and counties, all were ordered to maintain army horses, the number varying according to rank; the officials were all exempted so that they might provide them to the people. — "The Book of Han: Biography of Wang Mang"