Chapter 4: Wang Anshi

Qian Weiming wrote back saying that there were two major institutions in Bianjing for large-scale pawn financing: one was the Daxiangguo Temple, and the other was the Blue-Hatted Huihui.

Thinking about having to deal with monks made Li Changan suffer from social anxiety once more. The humiliating memory of debating scriptures with others was still fresh in his mind, and with that long-faced Su Shi currently absent—having left for a three-year mourning period—he would have to face the heat all by himself.

Whenever he thought of that long-faced man, he wondered when he would finally return. With him gone, he himself was the only one with a long face, and he didn't even have a friend left to tease.

***

Zhang Guanghe trotted all the way into the city, caught a carriage heading west, and traveled for over two hours before arriving at Sweetwater Lane. No sooner had he crossed the threshold than he began to shout, "Great joy! Great joy! The Old Zhang family has great joy!"

He hadn't taken many steps when his father caught up to him and gave him a sharp slap on the back of the neck. "What are you shouting about? You've been gone for days without a word! You little beast, the master has always been kind to you, why don't you hurry up and go with me to report this!"

He dragged his son toward the room of the Old Master Zhang. Once inside, Guanghe flopped onto his knees. "Old Master, Guanghe has returned to bring you happy news!"

The old man, who had been dozing on a soft daybed, was so startled by the shout that he kicked his legs and sat up with a jolt. As the saying goes, a grandson is like a dog—once he’s fed, he runs away. The constant bickering between the grandfather and grandson meant this little brat truly didn't care about home. He had sent a couple of household servants to act as his attendants specifically to run errands and send messages, yet the boy only returned once every ten days or half a month.

"What joy could there be? Is the little brat finally willing to lower his head and admit he was wrong?"

Zhang Guanghe thought to himself, *Old Master, don't you know what you've raised? If you were to carve out your own heart, even Bi Gan would have to concede defeat.* You thought you could trap him with money, but you never knew how many questionable friends the young master had made over the years; he could borrow three thousand strings of cash on a whim, enough to rival the entire Zhang family fortune.

"Great-grandfather, it is great joy! Because the young master engaged in charity, he received a commendation from the Emperor and was bestowed the title of Chengyi Lang of the Eighth Rank. Our family now has an official!"

He figured that once the Old Master was happy, the previous arguments would be swept under the rug. From then on, the grandfather and grandson would be reunited, the family would work together to earn a fortune, and he wouldn't have to be caught in the middle anymore.

The Old Master squinted and pondered for a long time, his anger growing even more intense. *The little brat is trying to spite me! Look at how well I live without you, he thinks, now hurry up and surrender.* The old man was quite confident in his ability to read his grandson's intentions. With this thought, his hatred surged; he grabbed his walking stick, intending to take his frustration out on Zhang Guanghe.

Zhang Guanghe performed a somersault on the spot and scrambled away. He decided he would rather go ask for a reward from the eldest master and the great-aunt; this old master was too stingy, refusing to give money while wanting to beat him up. He was completely unreasonable, which was no wonder the young master had run away from home.

It is not only the small fry who face frustrations in this world; the big shots have their own troubles as well. Wang Anshi, the Prime Minister, was currently suffering from a massive headache.

He had embarked on the reforms with the conviction of sacrificing himself for the greater good. He had offended the powerful clans and betrayed the scholars of humble origins; his prospects were essentially a dead end. He could tolerate anyone who tried to make things difficult for him, but not the Emperor, Zhao Xu.

"You nineteen-year-old child, your beard hasn't even fully grown yet. If it weren't for me carrying the blame for 'reforming and hoarding wealth' for your Zhao family, the Great Song Dynasty would have folded long ago. Between debts and loans, there are over seventy million strings of cash in foreign liabilities; how else can I recover them if I don't play hardball?"

Who knew what muddled medicine the young Emperor had taken? First, he had tortured him with three difficult problems, and now he had trotted out some nonsense "Saint of Green Sprout Loans." Was he trying to challenge him? Was the Emperor suffering from a brain fog that had clogged up his intelligence?

After reviewing the feedback on the implementation of the "Green Sprout Law" from various regions, the Prime Minister’s inner fire burned even brighter. His subordinates were too incompetent; the bad debt rate had actually reached forty percent. If this continued, they might as well do nothing, as the lending alone would squander the entire foundation of the Great Song. *Leading a bunch of good-for-nothings, how can I restore the glory of the Great Song? My heart is heavy.*

Seeing the sorrow on his father's face, his son, who was helping to annotate the correspondence, looked up to offer advice. "Father, there is no need to get worked up. Things will naturally sort themselves out when the time comes. We have the performance appraisal system to keep them in check; if anyone loses money, we will make them suffer through a few more years of evaluation. I don't believe these people won't work hard."

Wang Pang was Wang Anshi's right-hand man and the second genius of the Wang family. Outsiders did not address him as a mere official's son, but usually called him "Little Prime Minister."

Wang Anshi, of course, had long had a plan, but things had changed. The Emperor had propped up a Li Changan, which clearly meant he was not satisfied with his own results. "Yuanze, you go yourself and see what kind of mischief this Li Changan is up to!"

Wang Pang agreed and picked up Li Changan's file to read. At first glance, he was instantly irritated. Wasn't this the playboy from the Western City who had competed with him in poetry a few years ago?

Four years ago, he had accompanied his father to the capital to report on their duties, when the Emperor Yingzong was still on the throne. At that time, the Sichuan genius Su Zizhan was also in the capital. He had intended to test the man's caliber, so during a banquet, he initiated a poetry contest as a drinking game. It was this Li Changan who had interrupted halfway through and recited, "She does not compete for the spring's beauty, but only reports its arrival; when the mountain flowers are in full bloom, she smiles among them," stealing the spotlight from everyone.

A playboy who, instead of cockfighting or dog racing, was now running a "Cooking School." Just how warped was this kid's taste? Was he unable to afford the seventy-two grand restaurants, or did he think the young ladies at Daxiangguo Temple weren't pretty enough?

As he read on, he suddenly had an unpleasant suspicion. Could it be that this person was sent by the powerful nobles and clans to intentionally embarrass his father? But it couldn't be just some wet-behind-the-ears kid; had the noble families of the Great Song really become this useless?

"Father, I will go and investigate to see exactly how long his tail is."

Wang Anshi had no heart for power struggles right now; he was already up to his neck in trouble. "If he is someone who doesn't know his place, find a fault and have him banished to a remote military prefecture!"

With a single sentence, he sentenced Li Changan to exile—this was the power of the second most important man in the Great Song. The first, of course, was the old, entrusted minister Wen Yanbo.

This man had also noticed Li Changan, not for anything else, but because his "turning stone into gold" scheme had caused his long-time carriage driver to resign. The old man was frail and relied entirely on his carriage for travel; without a good driver, his tailbone ached from the bumps of a single day. The hateful Li Changan had suggested that drivers should run "public carriages," driving around the city to pick up passengers every day. Was this appropriate? Was this proper? He was a dignified Privy Councilor and the Duke of Lu, with an annual income of tens of thousands of strings of cash—could he not afford a carriage driver?

A devious trickster, bullying him! It was true that if the "Horse King" didn't show his power, others wouldn't recognize that he had three eyes. The office of the Chancellor was not far from the Privy Council, and before the old man could figure out how to deal with Li Changan, the "Little Prime Minister" Wang Pang had already arrived.

***

Li Changan had waited at home for half a day before finally seeing his partner, Qian Weiming.

"We agreed to find a few smart people to be financial reporters. You didn't go home to have a baby, did you? The training process is a bit long, and I'm afraid we won't have time!"

Qian Weiming was so angry he nearly hit him. For the interview questions Li Changan had provided, he had scoured the Imperial Academy and the National University, but barely anyone could pass. Even those who did, upon hearing that they had to investigate product sales data in the markets, shook their heads in refusal. Everyone went to school to become officials; who would want to be a clerk for a lousy gazette?

"Say what you have to say. I really am planning to take leave from the Imperial Academy and go back to Qiantang to find some of my own family's descendants to help. Don't laugh—I am determined to be this editor-in-chief, and I'll show you the true foundation of a noble family!"