Zhong Zhiwei was concerned about the situation in the border regions, but since the Wuliu tribe had just been subdued, there was unlikely to be any trouble for the time being. Wen Yanran ultimately decided to let her remain in the position of Minister of War for six months before considering a transfer.
“Thank you, Your Majesty, for your understanding.”
Zhong Zhiwei added, “Having spent many years in the western regions, I once commissioned the compilation of a book documenting local customs, the livelihood of the people, and the habits of the soldiers. Now that I have come to the capital, I wish to present this book to Your Majesty.”
A flicker of emotion passed through Wen Yanran’s eyes, and she seemed about to say something. However, upon reflecting that the fate of the Great Zhou was approaching its end, she restrained herself and merely offered a faint smile.
Zhong Zhiwei earnestly advised, “When Your Majesty appointed the commanders of the various camps, many decisions were made out of necessity due to urgent circumstances. To prevent the branches from overshadowing the trunk, in the future, all military officers assigned to the provinces must first serve a full term in the Department of State Affairs for proper training.”
Given the constraints of the era, this was an unavoidable measure to strengthen the connection between the provinces and the central government.
Wen Yanran nodded. “What you say is very true.”
Although Zhong Zhiwei would not be leaving immediately upon her return this time, Wen Yanran still felt a sense of reluctant parting. She simply left the court affairs to her ministers, took a few days off, and went out in plain clothes with her attendants.
The city of Jianping naturally had its designated market quarters, but management was strict, with restricted entry and exit. However, during the late emperor’s reign, laws and regulations had fallen into disrepair both within and outside the court, and Jianping’s control over the market quarters had also loosened. It was only after the new emperor ascended the throne that a sense of order was gradually restored.
When Wen Yanran went out today, she had deliberately tied her hair into a horsetail style reminiscent of the borderfolk. On the advice of her inner court attendants, she also wore a hooded cloak. After all, there were many noble families in the capital, and should she encounter an off-duty censor familiar with the Emperor’s appearance, having something to conceal her identity would allow her to shift the blame onto the two princes.
As a tyrant who encouraged free speech as a means of feeling her way forward, Wen Yanran was well aware of the Censorate’s relentless power to submit admonitory memorials. She inwardly criticized the attendants for suggesting she pass the buck, yet calmly accepted their arrangements.
“Actually, purely in terms of commerce, Jianping may not necessarily be better than key regional hubs.”
This was the administrative heart of the Great Zhou, requiring a high degree of stability. Unnecessary people could not be allowed to wander about freely, so as to reduce the risk of nobles encountering assassins – this was not mere paranoia. Just from what Wen Yanran knew, there were many players in the side plots who had met their end after being assassinated by wandering knights.
The era of restaurants had not yet arrived, but there were places selling water within the market quarters. Some clever proprietors even had wooden chairs set out for customers to rest and sip tea, and a few also sold alcohol and light refreshments.
The market wards were bustling with people. Many young scions showed off their prized chickens and dogs to one another. Though galloping horses were forbidden in this area, they still had their servants lead the horses along behind them.
The Emperor, traveling incognito, did not encounter anyone seeking trouble – unlike in many works of fiction. The clothes she wore today were made of cotton. Although Jianzhou was prosperous and cotton could be found even in ordinary households, the stitching on Wen Yanran’s garments was dense, and the fabric itself was exquisitely fine – far beyond what common people could possess. One glance was enough to recognize her as someone of noble status.
It was nearly noon. Wen Yanran and her party had just settled into a clean tea house when someone approached to sell them private gazettes – these were privately printed by wealthy households, similar in nature to the imperial court gazettes.
The man grinned and said, “The gazette is ten wen a copy. Young master, since you rarely go out, why not buy a copy and have a look?”
These vendors were seasoned in the market quarters. Their eyes were sharp – anyone who frequented the area, even young men from top-tier noble families like Song Nanlou, they could recognize by face. But they had never seen Wen Yanran before, so they simply took her for a junior from some well-disciplined prominent family.
Wen Yanran remarked, “Private gazettes seem to be selling quite well these days.”
There was more than one vendor hawking private gazettes in the market. Another spotted the customers and squeezed over, giving Wen Yanran and her group a half-bow. “Young master, don’t let Hou Qi fool you. If you buy from me, it’s only five coins a copy.”
Wen Yanran glanced at Zhang Luo, who smiled and said, “Private gazettes now go for just three or four coins a copy.” Then, pointing at the two vendors, he added, “These two are probably partners, trying to swindle you together.”
Hou Qi and his companion showed no embarrassment at having their sales tactic exposed by Zhang Luo’s remark. They simply bowed and said, “How embarrassing, how embarrassing. So the young master has a knowledgeable expert by your side.” They then placed a copy of the private gazette on the table, grinned, and said, “In that case, please accept this one as a complimentary apology.” Only then did they withdraw.
Zhong Zhiwei looked around, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. “The market quarters today are already vastly different from when I left.”
Since they were out in public and concealing their identities, Zhong Zhiwei and the others no longer referred to themselves as subordinates when speaking.
Wen Yanran smiled. “If you had stayed away any longer, you might not even recognize the roads back home.” Then she asked, “What does the gazette say?”
The owner of the tea house came personally to pour tea before withdrawing. They observed discreetly, feeling that this group all carried the bearing of nobility – especially the one in the center, who possessed an air of dignity that made it hard to look directly at them.
Since it was unseemly for the Emperor to handle items purchased outside, one of the imperial guards picked up the private gazette and first handed it to Chi Yi. After Chi Yi had examined it, she reported, “The capital region is growing increasingly prosperous. Merchants and vendors often gather there to trade goods.”
Upon hearing this, Wen Yanran smiled.
Zhang Luo, familiar with the sovereign’s temperament, gave a dry cough and added a few explanatory remarks. “Now that the realm is at peace and trade routes have been restored, merchant caravans frequently travel through the various prefectures – some are official, some private.” He added, “Even the inner court eunuchs have some involvement.”
Matters such as merchant caravans attaching themselves to the City Bureau and inner attendants taking a cut of the profits – though these were things Zhang Luo and his associates had done privately – since the topic had happened to come up today, how could they dare deceive their sovereign? They naturally spoke the truth.
Ordinary families lacked the means to engage in the trade of bulk goods. To open up trade routes from the Central Plains to the border regions, the cooperation of powerful and wealthy clans was essential. Since others could get involved, it was not unreasonable for inner court attendants to do the same. In the minds of Zhang Luo and his associates, there was only one thing they had to remember: they were the Emperor’s mastiffs and must never harbor any disloyalty toward their master.
Upon hearing this, Wen Yanran gave a slow, measured “Mm.”
Chi Yi continued to report the contents of the gazette, “The price of salt in Jianzhou has fallen, and grain prices have also dropped. This year, both wheat and millet are selling for 120 coins per bushel. After the autumn harvest, prices will likely go even lower.”
Zhong Zhiwei remarked with feeling, “The harvests have been good in recent years. Back five or six years ago, even coarse wheat was considered a bargain at 150 coins per bushel. In years of poor harvest, it wasn’t unheard of to see 200 coins per bushel.” She had joined the imperial guard early on and received official rations, yet even during those years, there had been times when she could not get enough to eat.
Although the Great Zhou had granaries established across various regions, and in times of famine the court was supposed to open these granaries to stabilize prices, the late emperor had spent money like water. He had been fond of constructing palaces and, far from showing any consideration for the hardships faced by the common people, had instead sent his trusted confidants to participate in these endeavors, reaping substantial profits. When those below saw the emperor himself acting in such a manner, they became even more unscrupulous in their exploitation.
Upon hearing this, Wen Yanran’s heart stirred slightly.
Although too many disasters would interfere with her plan to rule as a tyrannical sovereign, perhaps having everything go smoothly with favorable weather and bountiful harvests wasn’t necessarily a good thing either?
In the tea house, Wen Yanran and her party were not the only ones reading the private gazette. There were also many young men dressed as scholars. Just then, a few remarks spoken in raised voices drifted over with the wind. “Low grain prices hurt farmers. The drop in grain prices in Jianzhou – perhaps this year’s bountiful harvest isn’t entirely a good thing.”
Chi Yi explained in a low voice, “These are students from the Imperial Academy.”
Having served in the imperial palace for many years, she noticed that behind the hood, the Emperor seemed momentarily contemplative – though the trace of concern vanished after a moment.
The Imperial Academy students were fond of discussing court affairs. Besides talking about the prices of various goods, they did not forget to condemn the power held by inner court attendants.
“Most ministers in the court enter office through talent and virtue. Only imperial relatives and inner court attendants gain positions by virtue of their proximity to the Emperor.”
This time it was Zhong Zhiwei’s turn to clear her throat, trying to smooth things over. “Would you like some water?”
Listening up to this point, she felt that the Emperor’s composure was remarkably well cultivated – she had not shown the slightest anger over any of this.
Wen Yanran smiled. “I’m fine. It’s a hot day – give some to Ah-Yi and the others to cool their tempers.”
It had been quite worthwhile to go out today. Although there were inevitably critical voices directed at her in the court, they were largely overshadowed by praises of her virtue and accomplishments. Had she not come out among the people, she would never have known that there was such resentment toward her in the common populace.
The young scholars sighed again. “Nowadays, not only do inner court attendants wield power, but military officers are also growing increasingly formidable.”
Zhong Zhiwei: “…”
She silently poured herself a cup of water.
“Not only that. Lately, a game called ‘The Landlord’ has been circulating in the palace. It’s said to have been created by the Imperial Household Department to please the Emperor…”
After a brief pause, the speaking scholar let out a long sigh, his voice filled with profound worry that the Emperor was indulging in frivolous pursuits at the expense of governance.
Chi Yi shook her head. “Other news spreads slowly, but that game gets around quickly.”
The reason “The Landlord” had become so well-known at the Imperial Academy was clearly inseparable from the young scholars’ diligent study of its gameplay.
Wen Yanran said with a slight smile, “They are all young students. When they gather together, what else would they discuss if not court affairs?” Then, with a serious expression, she added, “As the saying goes, ‘Straight words offend the ear but benefit conduct’ – this is precisely what it means.”
Upon hearing the Emperor’s words, Zhang Luo and Chi Yi both lowered their heads, each feeling a sense of dawning realization.
The Emperor was a sage ruler, yet the Imperial Academy was often filled with critical remarks. The reason for this was now quite clear: the students tended to reach a consensus in their views, seldom encountering the kind of straight words that offended the ear.
Most court officials came from prominent aristocratic families, who naturally formed factions. Their thoughts easily influenced public opinion – the behavior of the Imperial Academy students was just one example. As close attendants of the Emperor, those in the City Bureau needed to devise ways to break the aristocracy’s grip on public discourse.
If Wen Yanran could hear the thoughts of those around her, she would realize that as cunning attendants, Chi Yi and Zhang Luo did possess a certain talent when it came to countering the aristocracy…
In that moment, the two had already begun to formulate a plan. The current emperor was different from the late emperor – she valued both authority and virtue and certainly would not wish for those beneath her to rely solely on power to intimidate others into silence. Therefore, they could subsequently establish debate sessions at the Imperial Academy. The school would set the topics and select two groups of students – one to argue in favor and one to argue against – to debate against each other, with rewards given to the victors. In this way, they would effectively split everyone into two opposing camps from the very source, preventing the students from habitually echoing the views of others.
Chi Yi also recalled that the Emperor had specifically emphasized the principle of “seeking truth from facts” to Wang Qishi. Therefore, before the debates, the Imperial Academy students could be sent to walk through the fields to observe firsthand, using data to support their arguments.
The attendants did not dare let the Emperor eat any food from outside. After resting for a while and attending to Wen Yanran as she washed her hands, they continued their leisurely stroll through the market quarters.
Wen Yanran rarely went out among the people. In her eyes, the Jianzhou market quarters appeared at most somewhat novel, but certainly nothing surprising – far from the bustling scenes of ancient prosperity she had envisioned.
The eunuchs, attuned to the Emperor’s temperament, felt that the Emperor was indeed worthy of being Emperor – her self-imposed standards seemed utterly boundless. In the late emperor’s time, had the markets and streets reached such levels of prosperity, Emperor Li would have undoubtedly been immensely pleased and would have prepared to renovate the imperial palaces once again to celebrate his accomplished governance.
After the failure of the [Data Deployment] measure, the game interface had remained silent for a long time, maintaining only minimal functionality. Wen Yanran had no idea that her ability to leisurely stroll through the markets and sip tea in peace was the result of the system having suppressed countless notifications – “[Culture] +1,” “Regional Prosperity Increased,” and the like.
