The Child Emperor

Prince Donghai carefully read through Vice Minister of Revenue Liu Zeqin’s memorial from beginning to end, but couldn’t discern any hidden meaning. “Your Majesty suspects he colluded with Luoyang’s wealthy merchants and gave them too many benefits?”

“I don’t know, I just feel…” Han Ruzi couldn’t articulate that feeling. He had Prince Donghai and the others withdraw first, as he wanted to meet with the Vice Minister of Revenue privately.

Liu Zeqin had been ordered to preside over the daily court sessions and was indeed dutiful and responsible, always at beck and call. He held a stack of documents in his hands – detailed records of the court sessions that could make the absent Emperor feel as if he were present.

Han Ruzi casually flipped through a few pages without reading carefully. “Vice Minister Liu, We have a question for you, and We hope you can speak frankly.”

“Please ask, Your Majesty. This subject would never dare to conceal anything.”

Liu Zeqin stood respectfully before the Emperor.

Han Ruzi pondered for a moment. “I have already read the memorial. Is there anything you need Us to do?”

Liu Zeqin looked up at the Emperor with surprise, then immediately lowered his head. “My consideration was inadequate and surely had omissions. Please allow a delay for two to four hours while I go to revise it. But… if Your Majesty may give me some guidance…”

Liu Zeqin thought the Emperor was dissatisfied with his memorial.

Han Ruzi shook his head. “Vice Minister Liu has misunderstood. There’s nothing wrong with the memorial. I feel that some matters might not be appropriate to write in a memorial, so you can speak to me directly.” Liu Zeqin was even more surprised. “There is nothing. The grain distribution by Luoyang officials and private parties is a great deed that benefits both the country and the people. Everything is contained in the memorial. This subject dares not conceal even half a detail.”

Liu Zeqin was that type of true court official. When Han Ruzi looked at him, it was like looking through a wall – he could only hear his voice but not see the person. There was no eye contact; both were speaking to thin air.

“Very good then.” Han Ruzi smiled to show his satisfaction, but in his heart he understood that his questioning approach was wrong and could only yield nothing.

He then summoned the College of National Scions Scholar Qu Zixi.

Qu Zixi also served as Censor of Henan Prefecture and was very conscientious. He had already made a trip outside the city and happened to want to see the Emperor to report on the situation.

“It’s truly remarkable. Luoyang officials and merchants have always been known for their cunning and slickness. I thought they would deceive both superiors and subordinates again this time, but it turns out I wronged them. I saw outside the city that the grain distribution was orderly. Grain sheds stretched for over three miles, all with dedicated supervisors. Refugees first registered their native places, received grain with vouchers, and when fifty or more gathered together, they selected a squad leader and were given sufficient grain and official certificates allowing them to return to their home regions.”

Qu Zixi was very satisfied with the performance of Luoyang officials and citizens. “Your Majesty’s personal presence has indeed doubled the effectiveness.”

Having read Liu Zeqin’s memorial, Qu Zixi saw no problems with it. “These compensations are modest. Luoyang merchants have truly impressed us this time. I must apologize for my previous words. At that time, I thought Luoyang was a place of greed and cunning, giving Your Majesty preconceived notions.”

“Scholar Qu, please stay in Luoyang for a few more days to see this through to completion.”

“It’s my duty.”

Han Ruzi didn’t get help from Qu Zixi either, but he still wouldn’t give up, always feeling that things weren’t so simple.

He discussed with Prince Donghai again. “Think more about the imperial arts you’ve learned.”

“What kind of imperial arts are those? They’re just some trivial tricks for guessing people’s hearts.” Prince Donghai denied it again, but still picked up the memorial and read it once more. After a long while, he said, “There is one method that can be used to find flaws.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Precedent.”

“Precedent?” Han Ruzi didn’t much like precedents. Often, precedents were the wall between him and his ministers.

“Yes, I forget who told me this, but when you really can’t find flaws in a minister’s proposal, ask about precedent. There must have been a reason for doing things that way originally. See if that reason still exists and how much remains – perhaps you can find some clues.”

Han Ruzi had a sudden enlightenment. “Exactly. At the very least, we need to understand why heavy taxes were originally imposed on eastern merchants and their entry to the Capital was restricted. Who should we ask? Liu Zeqin would certainly deflect by saying he doesn’t know.”

“I don’t know about that. Your Majesty should have remained in the Capital with the entire court at your side. When you have questions, you ask the Chancellor, and even if the Chancellor doesn’t know, he must recommend someone who does – that’s his responsibility. Now Your Majesty is in Luoyang with few people around, especially without the Chancellor. Who should you ask?”

Han Ruzi had advisors by his side—ten scholars who were at his beck and call. However, their strength lay in citing classics and precedents. They could quickly draft edicts to reward the meritorious officers and soldiers of the Southern and Northern Armies, as well as reprimands for Yang Feng. Their words were forceful and every sentence drew upon classical allusions, enough to make recipients of rewards feel deeply grateful and wrongdoers feel thoroughly ashamed. But when it came to the matter of Luoyang merchants, none of them remembered the original regulations.

“It probably wasn’t anything major, otherwise it would certainly be recorded in the national histories,” one scholar speculated.

After the ten advisors withdrew, Prince Donghai offered another suggestion: “Scholars won’t do. Your Majesty should find those veteran clerks who are familiar with documents.”

Han Ruzi actually recalled someone and summoned Liu Jie, the Palace Secretary, asking: “Who places the copies of memorials from the Capital on the desk each day?”

“I do,” Liu Jie replied.

“Who gives them to you?”

“Officials from the Imperial Secretariat.” The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the novelfire(.)net

“Is it the same procedure as in the Capital?”

“Yes, the Imperial Secretariat organizes the documents, then someone from the palace transfers them to the Emperor—usually the Chief Overseer, though Your Majesty may designate someone else.”

“You have been doing this job well. Summon the Imperial Secretariat officials who came along.”

The person arrived quickly: “Your humble servant Zhao Ruosu, Secretary of the Imperial Secretariat, pays respects to Your Majesty.” This was a man in his thirties with a somewhat prematurely aged appearance—clearly someone who had long worked with documents.

Secretaries of the Imperial Secretariat were not qualified to attend court sessions, so Han Ruzi had only a vague impression of Zhao Ruosu. He was always mixed in among a large group of attendants, close to the Emperor yet separated by numerous barriers. Without an imperial summons, he would never have the chance to speak directly with the Emperor.

Han Ruzi hesitated slightly. This person didn’t seem like someone who would speak boldly and offer frank advice, and he knew nothing about him. After thinking it over, he still asked: “You are a Secretary of the Imperial Secretariat, so you have access to old documents, don’t you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“How far back do they go?”

“Every ten years, the Imperial Secretariat and the Palace Library jointly copy duplicates of documents from previous years. Your humble servant was fortunate to participate once and saw all documents since the Founding Emperor established the dynasty.”

Han Ruzi was startled, and Prince Donghai was also incredulous: “All of them? Stacked together they’d be taller than a mountain—you could read through all that?”

“Your humble servant is skilled at identifying erroneous characters and was responsible for initial proofreading. I had to look over all the documents being recopied.”

“That’s not reading—at most it’s scanning. You probably didn’t even know what the documents said at the time, did you?”

“I didn’t know most of it, but I remember some.”

Prince Donghai sneered, still unconvinced.

Han Ruzi didn’t want to argue over trivial matters and asked directly: “When were the heavy taxes on eastern merchants and restrictions on their entry established? Do you have any recollection?”

“Yes, both of these were rules established in the first year of the Founding Emperor’s reign.”

Han Ruzi and Prince Donghai exchanged glances, neither having expected this unremarkable secretary of the Imperial Secretariat to actually remember documents from over a hundred years ago.

“Why did the Founding Emperor set such high taxes?” Han Ruzi asked.

Zhao Ruosu thought for a moment, then replied: “A memorial from that time stated that the eastern people were wealthy and their hearts still turned toward Zhao and Qi, so heavy taxes must be imposed to cut off their resources for rebellion.”

At the beginning of the Founding Emperor’s reign, the forces of the Zhao and Qi kingdoms had not been completely eliminated, and their territories were much larger than the current Zhao and Qi regions, so the Founding Emperor deliberately suppressed the east.

“The Great Chu has endured for many years, and the people have long forgotten the former kingdoms of Zhao and Qi. Why haven’t the heavy taxes been reduced?”

“Your humble servant doesn’t know. Among the documents I’ve seen, this matter was never mentioned.”

Prince Donghai reacted quickly this time, laughing: “What’s so hard to explain about that? The eastern merchants can afford it—haven’t they grown richer and richer over the years? As for the Capital, it’s grown accustomed to this income. A sudden reduction would actually be uncomfortable, so it’s been maintained all along. The public reason given is that this was a rule established by the Founding Emperor and cannot be changed.”

“Can the Founding Emperor’s rules truly not be changed?” Han Ruzi felt the heavy taxes could be reduced somewhat.

Prince Donghai pursed his lips without answering. Zhao Ruosu said: “No one has ever said they cannot be, but the Ministry of Rites might raise objections.”

“The Ministry of Rites?” Han Ruzi didn’t understand what this had to do with the Ministry of Rites.

“Every year in the twelfth month, the Ministry of Rites conducts ancestral sacrifices at the Ancestral Temple. One of the ceremonies involves reporting Your Majesty’s actions throughout the year. The Ministry of Rites might say that changing old regulations would anger the Founding Emperor’s spirit in heaven.”

Han Ruzi was so surprised he couldn’t speak. After thinking it over carefully, this indeed seemed like something the Ministry of Rites would do.

“What about the restrictions on the number of border crossings? What’s the reason for that?”

“The reason at the time was simple. Former officials from the Zhao and Qi kingdoms still hadn’t given up hope and had attempted to assassinate the Founding Emperor and important generals. Merchants entering the pass brought many people and much cargo, making it easy for assassins to hide among them.”

“According to the Ministry of Rites’ thinking, this old regulation also cannot be changed?”

Zhao Ruosu thought for a while longer. “Not necessarily. Taxation is a major matter—the Founding Emperor issued an imperial edict at the time, which can be verified. The restriction on border crossing frequency was a suggestion made by the pass commander, which the Founding Emperor approved, but he didn’t specifically issue an edict for it. Therefore, in the Ministry of Rites’ view, this might not count as changing the Founding Emperor’s old regulations.”

“Thank you, Secretary Zhao, for clarifying this matter. We now understand. You may withdraw.”

Zhao Ruosu left the tent.

“He’s a talented man,” Han Ruzi said.

“Heh, he just has a good memory. You can find plenty of such people in the various ministries,” Prince Donghai said dismissively. “Liu Zeqin has quite some nerve! He definitely knew that reducing taxes wasn’t feasible, yet he deliberately included it in his memorial. When the Ministry of Rites rejects it, Your Majesty will be furious, and he’ll prostrate himself begging forgiveness. In this back and forth, the matter of border crossings will be forgotten.”

“What the Luoyang merchants really want is just to increase the number of border crossings? They won’t rebel—they just want to do more business, right?”

“Liu Zeqin’s cleverness backfired. Originally it was a simple matter, but he insisted on being deceptive. Your Majesty must be on guard.”

Han Ruzi pondered in silence. The expedition would begin early tomorrow morning, leaving only one night, and aside from some speculation, he had no other evidence. He truly didn’t know what to do.

Liu Jie entered the tent to announce that Wang Jianhuo requested an audience.

Ugly Wang had also made a trip around the outskirts of Luoyang city. What he saw and heard was the same as Qu Zixi, but his conclusions were different. “In this commoner’s opinion, many of the vagrants outside the city are imposters, while the real refugees cannot get relief. This commoner is willing to become an official—I would offend a thousand people to save more lives.”

If you are reading this on an aggregator site, do consider visiting https://tuzhitranslations.wordpress.com/ to support this translation project by leaving a comment.

← CH 293