The New Year’s gifts were soon delivered to the residence of the Chu family.
Chu Sui’s treatment was not bad. Although she had been brought to Jianzhou, the court did not assign her to dig canals – unlike a number of individuals from the prominent southern families who remained stationed by the Liubo Canal even now.
However, this was not an act of special leniency from the Sovereign due to her background. Previously, Chu Sui had been under house arrest in Hengping County. Though she lacked neither clothing nor food, she was confined indoors without the freedom to move about. Such an existence might have been tolerable for a couple of days, but after enduring more than a year of it, her body had grown noticeably frail – hardly meeting the standards for canal-digging labor.
A messenger sent from the palace revealed certain information to Chu Sui: after the New Year, the court would grant her a position at the Imperial Academy.
Several generations ago, the Imperial Academy had already begun to gradually lose its standing and influence. Yet Chu Sui had been dispatched all the way from the eastern lands by her uncle – even if only out of regard for her elder family members, the Emperor would not leave her idle. Reflecting on the Sovereign’s actions in Gu Province and elsewhere, a sudden realization dawned upon her.
After learning in advance of her future appointment, Chu Sui also made inquiries and discovered that during the New Year period, Wen Jishan, the Chancellor of the Imperial Academy, was still spending his days working overtime within its halls. She therefore paid him a special visit.
The moment he saw the name on the visiting card, Wen Jishan nearly wept with joy. Slipping his shoes on hastily – even putting them on backwards in his eagerness – he greeted the visitor with cupped hands. “I have been awaiting your arrival!”
In truth, Wen Yanran had not required this clansman, the Chancellor, to work overtime during the holiday. However, Wen Jishan himself was fully aware of his own capabilities. Though his scholarly knowledge was considerable, he still fell short when compared to the very finest minds of the age. He could adequately serve as an official charged with maintaining the status quo, but when it came to implementing reforms, he was entirely out of his depth. With the Emperor now delegating such a substantial set of new tasks, he feared that without thorough preparation beforehand, mistakes would inevitably occur.
Wen Jishan did not even dare to submit a request for retirement to the court. To abandon his post just as the leadership had assigned him new tasks – if seen by others, they would not interpret it as him recognizing his own inadequacy and making way for a successor. Rather, they would perceive him as exceedingly audacious, daring to show defiance to the emperor through resignation.
Imagining the Emperor’s possible reaction, Wen Jishan concluded that his best course was to work diligently. Even if he couldn’t achieve great merit, he might at least earn some recognition for his efforts.
Thus, upon learning that Chu Sui had also been assigned to the Imperial Academy, Wen Jishan, in his capacity as Chancellor, nearly shed tears of relief – indeed, he was not alone in recognizing his limitations; the Emperor was equally clear-sighted about his abilities.
Although the Sovereign had not spoken explicitly, Wen Jishan understood perfectly that matters should be left to the Junior Minister Chu to decide. Once she had accumulated sufficient experience, he could then appropriately step aside and yield his position to this worthier candidate.
The reason Wen Yanran was now regarded by many ministers as exceptionally thoughtful and thorough was, in part, genuinely due to her careful deliberation when confronting important issues. The other part, however, must be attributed to the officials’ ceaseless over-interpretation…
Wen Jishan mused that while he himself was incapable of compiling the new teaching materials, there were ultimately those in the world who could accomplish this task. If truly no one could manage it, the Emperor would probably not bother to blame the Imperial Academy anyway.
Chu Sui’s assignment to the Imperial Academy naturally meant she would serve as a Erudite. According to the established rules of the Great Zhou, there were fixed quotas for Erudite positions, yet currently the ranks were incomplete, and had remained unfilled for quite some time – yet another testament to the depletion of talent throughout the realm.
Knowledge remained essentially monopolized by the aristocratic clans, and after so many years, the upper echelons had gradually decayed, lacking any progressive drive. The classics that officials should study were fixed by tradition; even the Sovereign, if wishing to add or delete from these texts, would inevitably have to confront the powerful clans head-on. When Wen Yanran had previously added only the discipline of mathematics, there had already been some unease within Jianping. However, since this subject was after all one of the Six Arts befitting a gentleman, and because the Emperor’s personal prestige was exceptionally high, and the elders of the Lu clan in Jianzhou had specifically come out of retirement to support the matter, it was ultimately implemented without incident.
Wen Yanran had, at that time, added the mathematics discipline purely to reduce her own workload, and used this opportunity to promote the new numerical notation. Nevertheless, if someone truly wished to accuse her of disregarding the classics and acting perversely on account of this matter, she would not actually mind all that much…
Chu Sui was warmly welcomed into the Imperial Academy by the Chancellor. After some discussion, she put forward her own perspective. “Upon careful reflection, it seems Her Majesty wishes to take this opportunity to re-examine the classical canon.”
From the village schools, to the prefectural government academies, and then to the Imperial Academy – the progression was clearly layered and interconnected. Coupled with the compilation of new teaching materials, the current emperor’s intentions were practically crying out to be recognized.
Wen Jishan felt cold sweat gathering in his palms – to re-examine the classical canon essentially meant entering into direct conflict with the powerful clans, particularly the established scholarly families specializing in classical studies. If mishandled, it could very well lead to utter ruin.
Chu Sui said, “Chancellor Wen, my knowledge is meager and my understanding shallow, and I am largely unfamiliar with affairs here in the capital. Perhaps during this New Year period, you and I should first pay a visit to Erudite Lu Zhongmao?”
Wen Jishan readily agreed to this proposal. They arranged a suitable date and went together to the Lu residence to call upon her.
As a fellow official of the Imperial Academy, Lu Zhongmao naturally would not turn away two colleagues. The three of them entered a private chamber within the Lu estate to discuss the matter of the teaching materials in confidence.
Lu Zhongmao affirmed Chu Sui’s view. “As I see it, Her Majesty now wishes to leverage the momentum of recent victories to reform the old and establish the new.” She added, “Moreover, the matter of compiling teaching materials may not be as difficult as you both imagine.”
Wen Jishan’s problem was insufficient capability, while Chu Sui, though possessing considerable talent, had been under house arrest in Hengping County for so long that she was somewhat disconnected from current developments.
Chu Sui asked, “Is there truly no opposition at court?” Even she herself, in her heart of hearts, could not claim to be entirely free of preconceived notions.
Lu Zhongmao replied, “The Imperial Academy has been in steady decline for years. By starting here, Her Majesty is unlikely to encounter strong resistance. Furthermore, Her Majesty is skilled in positioning pieces well in advance – always able to anticipate events and lay strategic groundwork long beforehand.”
Chu Sui cupped her hands respectfully. “Pray, enlighten me further.”
Lu Zhongmao smiled and said, “In truth, I myself only recently came to understand this. Back then, when Her Majesty specifically gathered a group of people at Shangxing Pass, the purpose was to select capable officials from among the court.”
In times of turmoil, loyal ministers reveal themselves. As news of unfavorable developments in the western campaign reached Shangxing Pass, a number of officials led by Li Zengyu began seizing the opportunity to stir up trouble. Not only did their efforts fail, but they actually diminished the prestige of their families in the process.
“…Take the Li clan of Jianzhou, for example. Had they still been present at court, they would naturally oppose this matter. But given their current reputation, if they truly tried to oppose the Sovereign, they probably wouldn’t even qualify for a position as a village school Erudite.”
If a family possessed considerable prestige but simply wished to avoid official service, they might still cultivate a reputation as recluses. The Li clan, however, had seen their standing plummet to rock bottom, leaving them utterly powerless to resist the Sovereign. For them, taking up positions in village schools had instead become a potential opportunity for advancement.
Upon hearing these words, Chu Sui’s expression shifted dramatically.
She concurred with Lu Zhongmao’s assessment, recognizing the Emperor’s remarkable ability to anticipate the enemy’s moves. Long before any signs had emerged, Her Majesty had already, through an unrelated matter, thoroughly exhausted her future opponents, leaving aristocratic clans like the Li of Jianzhou with no path but to offer their support. Only when everything had fallen naturally into place did the Emperor begin executing her plans.
No wonder the Emperor had at that time commanded Cui Xinjing to compose a written condemnation of Li Zengyu and his associates’ transgressions right there in the courtroom, and had the essay circulated throughout all the commanderies.
Wen Jishan also came to understand why the Sovereign had assigned this task to an ordinary minister like himself – the Emperor truly comprehended the difficulty of this undertaking, and had therefore systematically weakened all potential opponents well in advance.
Even as Chu Sui and the others were overcome with profound admiration for the Emperor, Wen Yanran was occupied with preparations for the New Year’s sacrificial rites.
The Great Zhou imperial ancestral rites were held within the Tianfu Palace. Due to the proximity of the two palaces, Wen Yanran often wandered over there on ordinary days. This occasion, however, was different – she had to don the full ceremonial robes of the emperor, wear the imperial seal, depart by carriage through the main gate of Taiqi Palace, travel in a grand circuit through the city, and finally enter through Tianfu Palace’s main gate before proceeding to the main hall to offer incense and perform obeisance. The sole saving grace was that such physically demanding work typically required little mental exertion – every step of the ritual followed a predetermined procedure. As Wen Yanran burned the sacrificial address, she reflected that such occasions demanded not so much the participant’s piety as their acting ability.
While offering incense to her ancestors, she amused herself by observing the portraits of successive Great Zhou emperors. Unfortunately, all were depicted in seated positions, preventing Wen Yanran from estimating her future height based on their physiques.
Following the ancestral rites, the Sovereign would return to Taiqi Palace and distribute vegetable dumplings to the ministers in Qianyuan Hall, symbolizing the remembrance of the ancestors’ hardships in founding the dynasty.
To ensure the banquet’s theme was thoroughly understood, these dumplings were made from unhusked wheat kernels, beans, and a meager amount of pickled vegetables.
Even after a full day of ceremonial activities, with most ministers thoroughly famished, they all ate with exceptional elegance – the texture and coarseness of the food ensured they could not dispatch it quickly in any case…
For Wen Yanran, such ancestral rites were merely ceremonial formalities. In the past, some emperors, seeking to subdue their ministers’ arrogance, would deliberately make them stand longer outside the hall, letting them shiver in the cold wind. She, however, had no interest in such petty maneuvers. After consuming her vegetable dumplings, she simply dismissed the ministers to return home directly.
Upon returning to Western Yong Palace, Wen Yanran casually inquired, “During today’s rites, I noticed that Chancellor Wen appeared rather haggard.”
Chi Yi replied, “Chancellor Wen is currently engaged in studying the compilation of teaching materials together with Erudite Lu and Erudite Chu.” As Left Vice Commissioner of the City Bureau, she always maintained a firm grasp on developments within the city.
Wen Yanran raised an eyebrow slightly.
She hadn’t realized that Wen Jishan was such a diligent individual – so devoted to official business that he continued working even through the New Year period.
Wen Yanran intended to pursue a path that would benefit future generations while incurring resentment in the present – hoping through the establishment of educational institutions to somewhat diminish her favorability among the aristocratic clans. She thus instructed, “Have Chancellor Wen submit a preliminary draft first, so I may see how their work is progressing.”
Upon receiving this command, Wen Jishan, together with Chu Sui and Lu Zhongmao, nervously composed their memorial. Their current plan was to divide the teaching materials into four categories: classics, legal statutes, agricultural texts, and miscellaneous studies.
After reviewing their submission, Wen Yanran summoned Wen Jishan to the palace and directed him to revise the materials to be as simple as possible.
Wen Jishan: “…”
Though not entirely comprehending the Sovereign’s intentions, the superior seemed to have discerned his own dullness and provided guidance on the subsequent work arrangements with remarkable clarity – first, miscellaneous studies were to be renamed as “principles studies.” As for the other three categories: for the classics, there was no need to study every volume in its entirety; only select passages containing profound truths needed to be extracted for teaching. Regarding legal statutes, these too should be taught as simply as possible, while agricultural texts must be adapted to local conditions.
According to the established conventions of Great Zhou’s book compilation, learned scholars would eagerly incorporate all knowledge they could into a single volume. Yet the Sovereign was instructing them to cut and condense repeatedly.
Upon learning of this, Lu Zhongmao pondered for some time, then said, “I believe I now roughly understand Her Majesty’s intentions.”
