Chapter 27: Deceiving the Gentleman with Uprightness (Please Vote, Please Vote)
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“Great ability brings great responsibility! Brother Su, are you still Su Zizhan?”
Confronted by Su Shi’s accusation, Li Chang’an showed not the slightest shame.
“If I had not borrowed your name, who in this world would have been willing to read an article written by a wastrel? Would anyone have taken an interest in the question of land? Would anyone have thought fundamentally about what was wrong with our system? Would anyone have been willing to break with tradition and examine the world through new eyes?”
A whole barrage of questions left Su Zizhan somewhat dizzy.
I came here to settle accounts with you, you wretch! You borrowed my name yet again, and now even the Ministry of Revenue and His Majesty want to promote me into the Ministry, throwing my scholarly plans into disarray.
Was it not you, three years ago, who told me that a man of letters was not truly great? That to change humanity and become a star illuminating history, one had to devote oneself to philosophy?
“Think of something. Otherwise, I’ll make the truth public!”
Su Shi had already developed a rudimentary immunity to this sort of moral blackmail. After all, it was hardly the first time.
Three or four years earlier, it had been this very fellow’s torrent of praise that had muddled his wits and tricked him into becoming chief editor of *The Roll of Eminent Figures*.
People learned from experience. It was impossible to fall into the same pit twice.
Faced with the threat from Su the Immortal, Li Chang’an felt no pressure whatsoever.
He trusted Su Shi’s character. So long as the man still carried ordinary people in his heart, there was no possibility that he would refuse to be persuaded.
“Su Zizhan, you know this. Since the time of Duke Fan Wenzheng, you are the only person capable of shouldering the task of reviving the Chinese realm.
“Do you trust Wang Jiefu? He is a Jiangxi man who began cultivating his reputation at nineteen. Once he came to power and launched his reforms, he immediately appointed old associates from the south. Is a man like that fit for the task?
“Do you trust Sima Junshi? He is nothing but an old pedant, raised in the school of textual exegesis. Would you trust someone who seeks solutions in the corpse of a man dead for a thousand years?
“Now the noble clans and imperial relatives have grown powerful, occupying a third of the empire’s farmland and commerce. The northern provinces are swarming with local magnates, while the common people wander homeless.
“Can you point to a bunch of old men and expect them to understand this problem—to solve it?
“The New Policies are nothing but a robbery. In this world, the weakest are always robbed first. Once the peasants have been drained dry, they turn upon the merchants and magnates. When those too yield no more profit, they turn upon officialdom, suppressing corruption and fighting corruption! You know it yourself. History has written it plainly; you know exactly what they intend to do.
“But what use is any of it? At best, the realm will descend into chaos, beacon fires will rise everywhere, and the Chinese world will fall once more into the cycle of hell.
“Are you truly going to run away?
“Will you let everyone for thousands of years to come remember you with regret and fury, saying: ‘The one man who could have saved the world retreated’?”
Su Shi’s face flushed crimson, and his heart surged with emotion.
On the one hand, he knew that these praises were merely the extravagant compliments of a young friend. On the other, he also knew that the problems were real.
He had resolved to become the greatest philosopher in the history of Chinese civilization.
Yet if that goal had to be set aside temporarily for the sake of saving the Chinese realm, that was not impossible.
During the three years of mourning, he had surveyed half of Ba-Shu and traveled through more than a dozen prefectures and commanderies. The Great Song had indeed reached the point where change was unavoidable.
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Just as Li Chang’an had written in *A Study of Land*, the growth of farmland could not keep pace with the explosive increase in population and the greed of those who lived off taxation.
In the north, the yield from an acre had remained unchanged for a thousand years—barely a hundred and twenty or thirty pounds.
In the south, regions capable of two harvests a year could approach three hundred pounds, while places with three harvests could exceed four hundred.
But what of the population? So long as an area remained relatively peaceful and enjoyed several good harvests, its population would double within five years.
Those who lived off tax revenue were like a ravenous mythical beast. The Great Tang had possessed six hundred million acres of land, and the Great Song had inherited at least five hundred million. Yet the actual registers recorded only three hundred and seventy million.
Where had all the rest gone? They had become hidden estates belonging to bureaucrats, nobles, magnates, and ancient clans.
The entire burden sustaining the Great Song had fallen upon the common people cultivating those three hundred and seventy million exhausted acres.
Could he stand aside and watch? Could he remain a spotless sage, quietly teaching in the Imperial Academy?
No—unless he abandoned his pride.
And that pride was precisely the foundation upon which he stood in this world.
Li Chang’an pushed over a box. Inside were agricultural statistics from successive dynasties, copied from the Ministry of Revenue’s archival repository.
“As before, the two of us will perform our little duet. These are the sources for the article I’m writing. Read them carefully, so you don’t let the cat out of the bag…”
What on earth…!
Su Shi had never encountered anyone like Li Chang’an. Even after reading historical records from the Spring and Autumn period through the Five Dynasties, he had never seen such a bizarre specimen.
To call him foolish would be unfair: he could devise principles unknown, unexplained, and incomprehensible to those who came before him.
To call him clever would also be absurd: several times, he had unhesitatingly handed to others the kind of achievements that could win him everlasting fame and make him a sage or a god.
“But what if His Majesty truly wants me to become Grand Agricultural Commissioner?”
“You’re being foolish. With a whole crowd of old ministers around you, what can one man accomplish? Follow Wang Anshi’s example. If he could do it, so can you. Refuse several more times and build up your reputation. Once you truly can’t refuse any longer, our goal is to take the post of Prefect of Kaifeng!”
Su Shi rolled his eyes. The man had clearly lost his mind. To leap from a seventh-rank official to the third rank, one had to cross twelve grades.
“Don’t worry. Let the bullets fly for a while!”
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As “Su Shi” published yet another research paper, the entire scholarly world of Bianjing entered a new frenzy—this time over the study of the fundamental principles of governance.
Look at Scholar Su. He never reached for lofty abstractions or indulged in empty ornament. He always struck directly at the essential principles of governing the state.
If a nation founded upon agricultural taxation could not even understand how farming worked, would it not be the laughingstock of the world?
The movement ensnared not only the common people and the scholarly world, but also the magnates and nobles, senior ministers of the court, and even the imperial household.
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First, people finally learned that soils differed from place to place. From north to south, there were no fewer than fourteen distinct types.
The loess of the Guanzhong region, the brown earth of the Central Plain, and the red soil of the south were all, it turned out, inferior varieties—poor and low-yielding.
The finest black earth, astonishingly, lay within the territory of the Liao.
Second, people discovered that their understanding of the relationship between land and the state had been astonishingly shallow.
How much land could support how many people? How many people could bear how much taxation? What sort of tax-consuming class could those revenues sustain? All of these questions, it turned out, could be calculated.
Even the size of the territory an empire could effectively govern was closely tied to the productivity of its land.
Su Shi’s reputation rose another enormous step. The line of people seeking an audience at his gate now blocked two entire streets.
This left the eunuchs delivering imperial edicts and the Hanlin Academy scholars in misery. They had to force their way through the crowd, emerging with disheveled clothes and crooked caps.
Three imperial summons in a single day—a privilege previously enjoyed only by Emperor Taizong and Kou Zhun.
“All right, have Scholar Su come out and receive the decree!” the eunuch gasped to one of Su Shi’s disciples, suppressing the sweat covering his body.
“Honored sir, my master has said that he will not accept the summons. To take office at this moment would amount to manufacturing a reputation, contrary to his original intentions…”
“Enough nonsense. At least let us go through the motions so we can return and report our mission accomplished! Three refusals and three humble concessions—give me some indication of what he wants, and next time we’ll bring Scholar Su the post he desires.”
The speaker was Cai Min of the Secretariat, former Commissioner of the Three Financial Offices and son of Cai Xiang, the great calligrapher and former governor of Hangzhou.
He now served in the Secretariat as a proofreader, which in practice meant a clerk.
He had made the journey three times that day. A standard imperial edict of the Great Song required the seals of four departments, and in the heat he had nearly vomited from exhaustion.
But His Majesty was pressing him hard. Had the Grand Empress Dowager not intervened, the emperor would have sent Su Shi the post of Vice Councillor of State that very day.
Academician of the Dragon Diagram Pavilion, Vice Director of the Ministry of Revenue, and Acting Deputy Commissioner of the Agricultural Administration.
Before entering mourning, Su Shi had been a seventh-rank official. Now he had leapt directly to the fourth rank, sending shock waves through the entire bureaucracy.
And he was still not satisfied? Did he intend to become Vice Minister of Revenue and then immediately take charge as Commissioner of the Agricultural Administration?
A fourth-rank official at thirty-two—apart from meritorious nobles and imperial relatives, the only person in the whole realm to have set such a precedent was Zhao Pu, the founding prime minister.
A student came in to deliver the news, and Li Chang’an once again had the imperial edict refused.
Su Shi shot him an exasperated look.
“We agreed that if this performance fell apart, you would serve as my page for the rest of your life!”
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