Chapter 75: The First Year of Dihuang

"At the banquet, I made inquiries with Ziyang's younger brother Gongsun Hui. In the time of Former Han Emperor Ai, Gongsun Shu inherited his father's post as Commandant of Henan and became a Palace Gentleman, later filling the vacancy as Chief of Qingshui County."

"Qingshui County lies in Longyou, where Hua and Rong peoples mingle. The sons of the six commanderies' good families there brim with martial vigor and have always been hard to regulate. Yet Gongsun Shu, young as he was, kept the county's Rong clans and good-family sons thoroughly in line — he didn't even need the household aides his father sent to assist him."

"Later, because of his outstanding ability, the Governor of Tianshui further appointed him to oversee five counties concurrently. Within a year, he had achieved remarkable results: the governance of those five troublesome counties was put in order, and bandits and thieves ceased to appear. The people of the commandery could hardly believe it, saying only that Gongsun Ziyang must have had help from ghosts and spirits."

This was the record of Gongsun Shu that Diwu Lun had gathered — a second-generation official, a master of county administration: those were the labels attached to him. Then, in Wang Mang's reign, Gongsun Shu's seniority and achievements earned him the post of Daojiang Governor, and his reputation for exceptional ability grew further.

"Only now, having come to the land of Shu, do I realize that this reputation is well deserved."

Diwu Lun told Huan Tan of his observations along the way: "Three punitive expeditions against Gouding, and the barbarians all rose in revolt; campaigns and corvée labor have thrown Yizhou into chaos. A few days ago, when we passed through Jiudu Commandery (Guanghan), all we saw was a scene of desolation. In the village wards, five out of ten houses stood empty. Admittedly, the property taxes and conscription levies played a part, but there is also the blame of a chief administrator who was negligent and incompetent."

"And when we asked where the people of Jiudu Commandery had fled to escape famine, we learned they had gone west to Daojiang Commandery. Everyone said that only by seeking refuge with Governor Gongsun could they find a way to live."

Although Daojiang Commandery enjoyed the benefit of Dujiangyan, apart from a small area around Chengdu, most of the commandery was nothing but river gorges and mountains, its prosperity roughly on par with Jiudu. Why, then, had it become a haven for refugees?

Diwu Lun had shared this puzzlement, but now he understood: "Coming to Pi County, I found that the countryside and fields had not been abandoned. The common people, urged on by officials and clerks, were still reclaiming wasteland and planting beans. In some places they had even sown winter wheat — a crop rarely seen in the south. Without official promotion, it could never have spread."

Under the burden of heavy corvée and property taxes, Gongsun Shu had managed to lead the people of Daojiang Commandery in increasing production and expanding cultivation. The land here already yielded two harvests a year; add winter wheat and that made three, securing the bottom line of food and clothing. He could even take in some refugees from neighboring commanderies. Social order was well maintained, and the surrounding barbarians had not risen in arms — proof that Governor Gongsun handled both internal and external affairs ably.

Diwu Lun said: "Trustworthy, sincere, and steadfast in action; incorruptible, fair, and just; able to govern those below and serve those above — such is a man fit for a province or commandery. Those are the very criteria of evaluation set by you, Grand Master Junshan. How can one fixate on Gongsun Shu's love of pomp, quibble over trifles, and deem him hypocritical, thereby overlooking his ability and talent?"

Huan Tan laughed. "It seems that when Boyu served as a Palace Gentleman, he did not study the adjudication of cases very well. The way of the Spring and Autumn Annals is to judge the heart when determining guilt — yet you insist on doing the exact opposite."

Diwu Lun retorted: "For those with evil intent, one need not wait for the deed to be done; for the chief malefactor, the punishment is especially severe; for those whose root purpose is upright, their offense is judged lightly. The principle is just so… But suppose there is a man named Zhang San. In his heart he cherishes Yao and Shun, and on his lips he invokes Zhongni, yet because his ability is limited and his methods clumsy, his governance rivals the misrule of King Li and King You, and the result is that the territory under him falls into utter chaos."

"And suppose another man is named Li Si. His heart is wholly set on pursuing private gain; he is hypocritical and base. Yet it is precisely this man who brings peace and tranquility to his region, keeping it undisturbed in a world of chaos."

"I venture to ask, Grand Master Nian: Zhang San and Li Si — who is guilty?"

Huan Tan thought for a moment, then said: "The former is guilty; the latter has merit."

Diwu Lun clapped his hands. "Exactly. Guan Zhong and Chen Ping were not men of lofty character, yet they became worthy ministers of their age. Judge the deeds, not the heart — that is what this means."

In this degenerate age of the Xin Dynasty, when morality had collapsed and the state was on the verge of ruin, quibbling over whether a man was hypocritical or not was utterly meaningless. Put another way, the quality of an individual's private virtue simply did not matter. That was why Huan Tan did not rate Gongsun Shu highly, while Diwu Lun believed his actions were worthy of praise. Had their positions been swapped, the Huan clan would certainly have done worse than Gongsun.

But admiration aside, Diwu Lun felt a certain wariness toward Gongsun Shu. Although their current stations were as far apart as heaven and earth, he had a vague premonition: this Governor Gongsun, a man of extraordinary ability, might not prove to be his friend in days to come!

Huan Tan, seeming to have been won over by Diwu Lun, no longer pressed his argument, but said with another laugh: "Cherishing Yao and Shun in his heart, invoking Zhongni on his lips, yet practicing the misrule of King Li and King You — does that describe Zhang San, or Wang San?"

"Young fellow, your ideas are very dangerous!"

……

Diwu Lun did not stint in his praise of Gongsun Shu, and Gongsun Shu, for his part, was lamenting Diwu Lun's departure.

When Yang Xiong's body was brought home for burial, Gongsun Shu, upon hearing the news, made an immediate decision and traveled from his administrative seat within a single day to be present.

"In the years since I entered Shu, I have repeatedly summoned worthy men to serve as bureau clerks in the commandery office. But many of them, their hearts still loyal to the Former Han and loathing the Xin, refused my appointments time and again. It was like offering a thousand pieces of gold for a thousand-li horse, yet failing to obtain one in three years."

"Yang Xiong is like the bones of a dead horse. I bought its skull for five hundred gold — to make a show of it for the people of Shu."

If a dead horse can be bought for five hundred gold, how much more a living one?

And Yang Xiong's three disciples were not bad either: Hou Ba was simple and honest, Wang Long had literary flair, and Diwu Lun, young as he was, had already made his name resound throughout the Six Colonels' districts. In Gongsun Shu's eyes, they were the very best candidates to recruit as subordinates.

"What a pity. A fine young gentleman of high talent and renown, a fellow native of the Six Colonels' districts — he could have entered my service and put his abilities to full use. Why must he insist on joining the army and rushing toward hardship?"

Gongsun Shu shook his head and instructed his younger brother Gongsun Hui to make plans to spread word of his own deeds in honoring the worthy.

As a Governor sent from outside to establish himself in Shu, while drawing local powerful families to his side, he also tried continuously to attract renowned gentlemen from various regions to rally to him, so as to enhance his own prestige. To protect the territory and bring peace to the people of Shu in this final age, one had to strike out proactively — otherwise, one could only sit and wait for death.

Gongsun Shu looked forward eagerly: in the coming year, perhaps some eminent gentleman or high talent of Shu would hear of this affair, change his attitude toward him, and come gladly to offer his allegiance.

"It's snowing."

Just as he was pondering, Gongsun Hui, who had stepped outside the house, cried out. Gongsun Shu went into the courtyard to look, and sure enough, snowflakes were drifting down thick and fast from overhead. Being the land of Shu, it was not the dry cold of the north when it snowed, but a bone-chilling damp cold that made one shiver uncontrollably.

"Shu is a hot place; snow should not come this early. The climate is abnormal — the people's livelihood is likely to grow even harder."

Gongsun Shu shivered, not from the cold, and then recalled that in a few more days, according to the court's long-promulgated calendar of the three-six-year cycle, the era name would be changed to "Dihuang."

The Emperor Wang Mang's original intention was to set the realm's mind at ease, but anyone with clear eyes could see that this world was only going to grow more chaotic.

Gongsun Shu, in governing his commandery, had felt this deeply. To the south, the Yi people of Jisui Commandery (Yuesui Commandery) had murdered officials and risen in revolt. To the east, refugees from Jiudu Commandery were fleeing famine. To the west and north, the Di and Qiang, migrating because of the climate, were stirring restlessly, seeking to enter the mild, moist plains.

Daojiang was like a small boat amid terrifying billows and raging waves. Even though Gongsun Shu's skill at the helm was superb, keeping it steady was no easy matter.

"How many more years can my Daojiang Commandery preserve its peace and security, here in Yizhou, by sheer luck?"

Gongsun Shu's mood was at once anxious, and glad.

……

Every journey has its end. The four who had shared hardships and joys along this road parted ways at last.

As the eldest disciple, Hou Ba decided to remain at Yang Xiong's tomb, observe the three-year mourning period, and devote himself wholly to his studies.

Wang Long, for his part, had arranged with Huan Tan to tour Chengdu and the mountains and rivers of Shu that Yang Xiong had once traversed.

Diwu Lun, however, had to return to Chang'an before the first month. He bade the others a hasty farewell and headed north, only pausing to urge Hou Ba: "After the master's mourning period is over, I hope you, my senior brother, will come find me in Liewei Commandery. Do not linger too long here in Shu!"

Hou Ba agreed readily enough, but in truth, he was somewhat tempted by the terms of appointment Gongsun Shu had offered, and he was thoroughly satisfied with Shu's comfortable climate. They could talk again after three years — wasn't that still a long way off?

By the tail end of the sixth year of Tianfeng, Diwu Lun had already returned to Nanzheng, the capital of Xincheng Commandery (Hanzhong Commandery).

There was still ample time. Diwu Lun reflected that on the way here, to ensure the safety of Yang Xiong's coffin, their party had taken the Baoxie Road, the most established and reliable route. But the roads crossing the Qinling Mountains from Hanzhong into Guanzhong were not limited to that one. Since he was here anyway, there was no need to retrace his steps; he might as well try another.

For instance, the Chencang Road — the one Han Xin used to "openly repair the gallery roads while secretly crossing Chencang."

But when he sought a guide in Nanzheng, he was met with merciless ridicule.

"The old Chencang Road?"

"Sir, you must be joking! There was a great earthquake in Han times; it's been blocked for many years and was abandoned long ago!"

Diwu Lun was stunned. Upon careful inquiry, he learned that the earthquake had occurred roughly during the reign of Empress Lü in the early Han. It had directly altered the mountains and rivers, splitting the watercourse in two, and a perfectly good old road was largely ruined. Along the route, some sections were blocked, others collapsed; with the productive capacity of this ancient age, it was nearly impossible to clear and repair. The Chencang Road had thus been abandoned.

What to do, then? Diwu Lun steeled himself and simply took a long detour, opting for the "Gallery Road" — that is, the Ziwu Valley, which led from eastern Hanzhong straight to the south of Chang'an.

As it happened, this Ziwu Road, ever since Liu Bang had set it ablaze, had not been restored to its original state until Wang Mang took power and mobilized civilian labor.

On the road, Diwu Lun heard two explanations. One was that the Ziwu Road was rebuilt to celebrate the marriage of Wang Mang's daughter as Empress to Emperor Ping of Han, symbolizing the auspicious blessing of descendants.

But that did not seem entirely convincing. Diwu Lun found the second explanation more credible: Zi means north; Wu means south. The road connected north and south in a corresponding line, hence it was called Ziwu.

He could not help thinking to himself: "First he rounded out the four sea commanderies in the east, south, west, and north, and now he links Zi and Wu to thread through north and south. Add in the frenzied renaming of places everywhere — does it not feel as if he is using the whole realm as a blueprint, sketching out some kind of national-territory refining grand array?"

Once he entered the Ziwu Road, Diwu Lun discovered that although the Xin Dynasty had repaired this route, it was still exceedingly difficult to travel.

The scenery was clearly split in two: the southern stretch was a jumble of jagged rocks piercing the sky, gorgeous and steeply beautiful, with karst hills everywhere and vegetation full of southern charm — even in winter, pines and cypresses remained lush and green. The northern stretch, by contrast, turned into towering, precipitous mountains, rugged and imposing, the trees mostly withered deciduous forest, a scene of bleak desolation as far as the eye could see.

The barren ridge path twisted and coiled around the peaks in countless bends; within a hundred paces, it would circle the crags in endless turns, and sometimes after winding for two whole days, one discovered they had only gone from the foot of the mountain to its slope.

The hardest part was where the plank road hung suspended in midair. Looking up, one saw peaks so high the six dragons would turn back at the sun; looking down, one beheld rushing rivers that crashed and swirled in reverse. A hundred zhang above the ground, men and horses had to advance on wooden plank roads, which creaked and groaned under the weight, even swaying when a gust of wind blew. Some mules or horses ahead had slipped through a broken section and plunged down, leaving only a burst of startled cries and the dull thud of heavy bodies hitting the ground.

Several times, Diwu Lun had to press himself against the cliff face as he walked, one hand clutching his chest in terror.

To make matters worse, it began to snow, making the plank road even more treacherous. He even began to regret why he had come to the Ziwu Road to court trouble.

Then, with deep feeling, he thought: "This Ziwu Road is just like the path I must walk in the future."

With Yang Xiong's death as the dividing line, Diwu Lun had taken a step that would decide his life, and there was no turning back. This journey into Shu might be his last moment of ease and leisure. After this, it would be like walking a narrow ladder-path across the heavens — as if treading on thin ice, as if peering into an abyss!

To turn back was a dead end; he could only grit his teeth and press on! With this thought, Diwu Lun steadied his steps, inching forward bit by bit until he left that perilous plank road behind. The moment his feet touched solid ground, he turned to look back — snowflakes danced across the mountains, and only then did he realize that the finest views truly lay atop the most dangerous peaks!

When he reached the next post station, he saw the Precinct Chief and the station attendant hanging up peachwood charms. Upon asking, he learned that during the days he had been circling in the mountain gullies, time had turned another page.

The new year had arrived!

"So fast," Diwu Lun said, both glad and worried.

"The first year of Dihuang (AD 20) is here! How many more years do I have to prepare?"

The Liu clan of Chongling in Nanyang never observed the new year of the Xin calendar.

But Liu Xiu had to remember this day with absolute certainty: the day the Great Han perished!

For eleven years now, his elder brother Liu Yan had required Liu Xiu to do one thing on this day.

As in previous years, Liu Xiu donned his crimson robe and tall cap, knocked on his brother's door, and walked straight up to Liu Yan, who was sharpening a sword in the room. He bowed low and said in a hushed voice: "Liu Bosheng, have you forgotten the enmity of Wang Mang usurping the Han?"

"Yes — Yan dares not forget!"

Liu Yan was emulating King Fuchai of Wu, who never forgot his father's vengeance, and he demanded that Liu Xiu never forget either!

"The first year of Dihuang?"

Liu Yan scrutinized the cold, gleaming sword in his hands. Like a prophecy, and like a vow, he ground his teeth and said: "This will be the last reign title of the false Xin dynasty of that upstart Mang!"

PS: There's a double monthly ticket event at the end of the month — decide for yourselves when to cast your votes.