After determining the direction of the work, the next step was to study the specific measures to be taken.
Influenced by her work experience before transmigrating, Wen Yanran actually preferred to oversee the details of each plan herself. However, as her attendants often advised her to balance work and rest, she gradually delegated more tasks to her ministers.
Since this was a matter concerning education, Wen Yanran entrusted the task to the Chancellor of the Imperial Academy and ordered various ministries to collaborate in handling it.
Having spent his entire career idling by, the Chancellor of the Imperial Academy never expected the Emperor to entrust him with such an important responsibility. For a while, he was both anxious and cautious. Although the ministries were busy with their own affairs, this matter had been personally commanded by the Emperor, so they had to do their utmost to fulfill it. Of course, given the customs of the time, there was room for discussion. However, since discussion was optional, it naturally also meant it could be omitted. After weighing the options, they chose to follow their hearts without much hesitation.
In the ministry offices, a few low-ranking on-duty officials rubbed their sore backs. One of them sighed, “During the reign of the late emperor, I once hoped that the Emperor would be more diligent in handling state affairs…”
Out of respect for the imperial family, the official left the rest unsaid, but everyone else understood what he meant – the Tianfu Palace had such an accurate way of selecting people, so perhaps destiny truly existed. And if destiny might indeed exist, it was best not to pray too earnestly in daily life, lest the heavens grant one’s wishes in an overly literal and overwhelming manner.
After completing their tasks, they carefully reviewed the wording of their reports. Once they had confirmed there were no errors, they made an official fair copy, prepared it for submission, and waited for it to be presented to the Emperor.
It wasn’t that these individuals were being overly cautious – it was simply that the new emperor’s habits differed significantly from those of previous rulers. Of course, the frame of reference here wasn’t Emperor Li himself, as all the veteran officials in the ministry offices were well aware that His Majesty rarely bothered to personally review memorials.
The court officials didn’t realize that, as a transmigrator, Wen Yanran had brought over her original work habits. Nowadays, more and more people had come to understand that the new emperor had unique requirements for memorials and documents. Officials were expected to write memorials in concise and clear language, complete with punctuation. Any data cited in the documents had to include clear sources, and the entire chain of custody – every person and department the document passed through – had to be recorded and clearly marked for future verification. Were it not for the fact that everyone knew the Emperor had lived in obscurity within the Tongtai before ascending the throne, one might almost think she was some long-seasoned, meticulous old clerk.
Wen Yanran had no intention of concealing her working preferences. As the Emperor’s authority grew increasingly formidable, many officials, though they felt the Emperor’s approach lacked the grace of a refined scholar, had no choice but to adapt themselves to meet the ruler’s expectations.
When these minor details spread beyond the court, they sparked quite a bit of discussion in the northern regions. Led by Zhang Bingshan, the advisors drew two conclusions from this: first, it was truly the Emperor herself handling governmental affairs in Jianping, as neither Yuan Yanshi, Song Wenshu, nor Wen Jingmei were particularly fond of such plain and direct writing; and second, the Emperor truly was as rumored – not particularly well-educated.
Zhang Bingshan had earned Wen Hong’s trust not because he was consistently wrong on critical issues, but because he often managed to arrive at verifiably correct answers on trivial, inconsequential matters.
With the examination plan roughly settled, Wen Yanran summoned her ministers to inquire whether, in addition to official schools, it would be possible to establish community schools in each township and county to teach reading and writing during agricultural off-seasons.
If official schools catered to scholars and intellectuals, then community schools would be for the common people – those without family background, wealth, or even the means to live easily.
Song Wenshu remarked, “Your Majesty’s compassion for all the people is a blessing for the nation. However, this matter may prove difficult. For ordinary people, reading one book may not be as practical as having one meal. Even if Your Majesty intends to promote education, I fear they may be unwilling to comply.”
In truth, Song Wenshu had other concerns as well. Having served in local posts during his youth, he knew that for rural commoners, even during agricultural off-seasons, time could still be spent on handicrafts or other tasks – there was rarely true idle time. If such a policy were enforced, lower-level officials might simply round up people to meet inspection quotas. Over time, this could turn into another form of conscripted labor in practice.
Song Wenshu’s considerations were actually quite thorough. However, during the exchange between ruler and minister, if a subordinate’s wording was too reserved, it tended to give the superior too much room for interpretation.
Following the surface logic of her loyal minister’s reasoning, Wen Yanran thought that if simply learning to read lacked appeal, then a little extra incentive could be added.
“Community schools will provide one meal a day, and on regular days, focus can be placed on teaching agricultural texts and practical skills.”
If there was no inherent desire for literacy, then offering something concrete might help.
“Outstanding performers can be recommended for admission to official schools.”
Entering an official school opened up the possibility of becoming an official or clerk. Once that step was truly within reach, even ordinary people, driven by practical interests, would likely be willing to send their children to continue their studies.
Wen Yanran said, “For households with able-bodied individuals aged fifteen to eighteen, if they attend community schools to study, they may be exempt from labor service for that year.”
Song Wenshu suggested, “A three-year period might be too long. Perhaps we could start with one year?”
Wen Yanran had no strong objection to this. “Then let it be as Minister Song proposes.” She then continued, “For now, let’s start with pilot sites in Jianzhou and allow them to refine the details through experience.” True understanding comes from practice – no matter how thoroughly they debated in court, there would always be aspects that remained incomplete.
“As for selecting teachers…” Wen Yanran smiled slightly, “Jianzhou also has plenty of individuals with time on their hands.”
Former Vice Minister of Personnel Li Zengyu was a member of the Jianzhou Li clan. Officials represented by him, publicly criticized by Cui Xinjing in his writings, felt too ashamed to remain in the court and resigned one after another to return home. With their reputations tarnished, not only were they unable to continue serving in office, but they also feared their families might be implicated. According to the typical temperament of scholar-officials of that era, the next step for many would likely be to succumb to depression and pass away. However, at this time, a rumor began circulating in the court that the Emperor intended to summon them to teach in local schools, tempering their dispositions through such service.
In addition to the Jianzhou Li clan, there were also the Yuan, Song, and Lu clans, among others, who enjoyed the emperor’s favor. These aristocratic families had numerous members – it was impossible for everyone to hold official positions. Those clan members who lived in idleness, though facing difficulties in pursuing official careers, would have no problem teaching basic literacy to others.
Upon hearing this, the Li family and others were momentarily alarmed and deeply suspicious, wondering whether the Emperor intended to further humiliate them by sending them to rural areas.
It was then that a clan member voiced a different opinion. “I do not think so.”
“May I ask for your esteemed insight?”
The person bowed slightly before responding, “Esteemed insight is hardly fitting. However, if the Emperor truly intended to take action against us, why would she need to create a pretext?”
Given Wen Yanran’s authority in Jianzhou, there was no one she couldn’t deal with directly. To suggest that handling the Li clan required such indirect means would be overestimating their family’s standing.
“…”
Sometimes, silence means being at a loss for words while still unwilling to admit it immediately.
The person who spoke earlier continued, “Given our family’s current situation, even if it truly were exile to a remote borderland, we would have no choice but to accept it – let alone this assignment, which at least carries the title of teaching.” He then sighed, “Look at the southern regions. Families like the Cui, Chu, and Chen – all prominent clans – now have members digging canals in the Liubo Canal. Even the Song family is being required to send people. In the Emperor’s eyes, what status do we really hold to be able to offer excuses and refuse?”
Upon hearing this, the other clan members could only sigh in resignation.
They had originally hoped the court’s plan would progress slowly, allowing them sufficient time to adjust. Little did they expect the Emperor, with her pragmatic approach, would avoid large-scale implementation and instead choose to pilot the program in Jianzhou, with a relatively detailed plan in place. Whether for community schools or official schools, the daily expenses and supplies would be funded by official lands. Under the Great Zhou system, the imperial family held private estates across various regions, with Jianzhou having a particularly high number. Earlier, the Ministry of Revenue had raised a concern – while Jianzhou had ample official lands to support such an initiative, other regions with fewer official lands might face financial pressure if the same model were implemented.
The Emperor swiftly provided a response: by the time the program was to be expanded, local official lands would not be lacking. Once the imperial army crushed the rebels, their lands would naturally be confiscated by the state.
The Sovereign’s actions were tightly interwoven. Minister of Revenue Lu Yuanguang was no longer surprised by this – the new emperor, unlike the previous one, considered foresight a basic skill.
With the funding issue resolved, oversight naturally followed suit. Recently, the Censor-in-Chief, Song Wenshu, had been making unusually frequent visits to the Westen Yong Palace.
This was not originally a matter of critical military or state importance, so he didn’t need to be so diligent. However, the Emperor had recently made it clear that strict supervision was essential to prevent local collusion.
Wen Yanran smiled and said, “If even that doesn’t work, I will personally go to oversee the localities and see exactly how they deceive their superiors and conceal the truth.”
If it were anyone else speaking, Song Wenshu would likely have dismissed it as an outburst of frustration. However, he had no doubt that the current emperor was fully capable of doing something so unconventional!
Song Wenshu immediately bowed deeply, his tone resolute. “I will spare no effort.”
If the Emperor truly had to personally oversee the supervision, then as the Censor-in-Chief, he might as well consider himself resigned to his duty. Influenced by the customs of the time, Song Wenshu was not afraid of death – but dying at such a time, as a former high-ranking minister of the previous dynasty, would likely mean being buried alongside the late emperor!
Chi Yi, who had been standing nearby, suddenly remarked, “Since the community schools are funded by the Emperor’s personal resources, perhaps the Imperial Household could also be involved in this matter.”
The Imperial Household she referred to was not the Director of the Imperial Household, but the institution responsible for managing the Emperor’s private assets.
Since the school expenses came from official lands – which were essentially funded by the Emperor herself – it made sense for the City Bureau to oversee the financial aspects, and by extension, monitor how the schools were being run.
Song Wenshu also found this approach feasible.
After all, community schools and official schools were not considered major court affairs, and the Censorate’s manpower was limited. While it might manage within Jianzhou alone, expanding the scope too broadly would likely make it impossible to cover everything comprehensively.
Wen Yanran nodded in agreement, instructing both sides to collaborate in handling the matter, with the Censorate taking the lead for the time being.
As Song Wenshu took his leave, he happened to see several palace attendants carrying wooden boxes filled with memorials toward the Westen Yong Palace. The sight of such diligent governance deeply moved the three-dynasty veteran official, and he couldn’t help but pause to gaze at the scene, a profoundly gratified expression on his face.
The wooden boxes contained reports from the front lines.
Wen Yanran, who had just been about to send someone to inquire about the situation, smiled faintly. “What a coincidence.”
The imperial army was achieving successive victories, and the court needed to promptly manage the cities that had been recaptured. From the front lines, Tao Jia and Shi Zhuhe had submitted memorials, while Ren Feihong had also sent a private letter providing detailed reports on the situation.
Lujia City was located in Lankang Commandery within Gu Province. Thanks to the swift arrival of government forces, Gu Province’s Inspector, Xin De, managed to escape with his life. He was currently assisting with logistical matters. Although he bore responsibility for losing territory, the court was in need of capable personnel, and officials familiar with local conditions were indispensable for support. Thus, for the time being, he had not been arrested and sent to the capital for judgment.
As Wen Yanran reviewed the memorial, she also cross-referenced the data displayed on the [War Sandbox]:
[Total Troops: 106,000
Cavalry: 34,000
Ranged Troops: 16,000
Infantry: 16,000
Engineer Troops: 3,000
Militia: 47,000
Provisions (Days of Supply): 15±3 (days)
Army Morale: 7510 (Professional Bonus)]
There was some overlap among different troop types, so the sum of individual categories did not match the actual total. Since Lujia City had already been captured, the government troops were able to obtain some supplies there, which explained why they carried relatively few provisions with them. The “±” figure represented the variable range in days of supply.
The court dispatched an army of 100,000 troops while claiming a force of 300,000. On the rebel side, however, there were genuinely over 300,000 men, though the majority were ordinary civilians – a fact that did not stop them from boasting of having a million-strong army.
In addition to reporting on the recovery of lost territories, Tao Jia submitted a request: given the vast expanse of the eastern region and the numerous rebel strongholds, he proposed dividing the forces to expedite the war effort. He suggested that, apart from his own central army, Chen Ming and Shi Zhuhe each lead a separate division. In truth, Tao Jing was also quite capable, but as Tao Jia’s son, he could not – under Zhou regulations – lead an independent army on his own.
Though Wen Yanran privately considered Shi Zhuhe a mediocre commander merely included to make up numbers, she felt that with Ren Feihong providing counsel alongside him, there wasn’t too much to worry about. Thus, she approved Tao Jia’s request.
Apart from the proposal to divide the army, Tao Jia also submitted a joint petition with other senior military officers, recommending those who had performed outstandingly in battle for recognition and reward.
Seeing the effusive praise in the memorial, Wen Yanran grew somewhat wary – Tao Jia was a loyal and honest veteran minister, and she genuinely worried that if he were to diligently recommend loyal and capable generals, she would need to handle the situation appropriately. Recalling the names she had seen in the comments section, she began carefully cross-referencing the list.
