Upon arriving in Tai Province, Wen Yanran reviewed local records and selected several typical cases to deal with publicly. She deliberately leaked the news in advance, instructing Chi Yi and Zhang Luo to keep a close watch, with Ren Feihong – who was well-acquainted with the situation in the western regions – providing assistance. She also ordered the imperial guards to cooperate accordingly. As expected, upon learning of this, some prominent local clans resorted to bribing influential officials with substantial sums of money while secretly stirring up unrest, attempting to rally support for an uprising. Others planned to flee with their wealth.
Chi Yi and Zhang Luo observed the situation with cold detachment. Once the timing was right, they led the imperial guards to round up all the suspects in one sweep. As influential eunuchs whose names were often mentioned in public discourse, although they had not held power for long, they already displayed the decisive and ruthless demeanor they would later become known for. Without distinguishing between Central Plains and Western people, they executed all those who had rebelled. Afterward, they constructed a mound of enemy corpses outside the city gate as a deterrent.
Witnessing this scene, the ministers trembled with fear, naturally surmising that it was the Emperor’s own intention. With Tai Province already under submission, the Sovereign sought to convey a clear message to its people: whether they were Central Plains natives or Western tribes, as long as they abided by the law, they were considered subjects of the Great Zhou. However, if they defied the law, the authorities would show no mercy in dealing with them.
While using military might to intimidate Tai Province, the Emperor did not neglect to offer conciliatory gestures. Over the following days, she summoned numerous local clan leaders of various ethnicities for audiences. Wen Yanran recalled comments mentioning that the Emperor’s status carried a rather mystical influence, producing a particularly powerful effect in face-to-face interactions. As long as the central authority retained a certain degree of prestige, she naturally possessed a “persuasion max” aura. Sometimes, when the player aimed to implement certain policies that initially faced opposition from ministers, triggering the “private audience” option could easily sway their attitudes.
Wen Yanran gathered many local elders and influential figures in the Inspector’s residence and, in their presence, reiterated the policy of integrating Central Plains and Western people, which had been refined by Cui Xinjing. This included centralizing the power to appoint officials. At the same time, regardless of their lineage, local people from the Western regions could gain entry to the Imperial Academy based on their abilities. Additionally, trade routes would be opened, and assistance would be provided for local residents to change their household registration and relocate inland.
These policies carried both advantages and disadvantages. Wen Yanran had initially planned to employ a mix of intimidation and inducement to prevent any overt opposition from these individuals. However, the entire discussion proceeded without any difficulties. Essentially, every time she introduced a topic, they would kowtow repeatedly, expressing their unwavering commitment to follow Her Majesty’s sacred decree. Throughout the process, they showed no intention of bargaining or negotiating.
Among them was a person named Du Ying. Chi Yi and others had investigated her past behavior, and it was said that she frequently voiced grievances, showed disdain for Jianping, and in her younger, more impulsive days, had even publicly proclaimed a desire to “devour the flesh of Emperor Li.” Yet today, given the opportunity to meet the Emperor in person, she could hardly sit still. Only by kneeling and prostrating on the ground did she feel slightly at ease.
However, she was not the one whose attitude had changed the most. A member of the Li clan’s collateral branch was now prostrate on the ground, wailing loudly while repeatedly kowtowing, to the point that bloodstains appeared on his forehead. “Your Majesty, I have had the honor of personally hearing Your Majesty’s teachings today. Even if I were to die now, I would have no regrets!”
Seated at the head of the hall, Wen Yanran, having read the comments beforehand, was somewhat mentally prepared. Throughout the audience, she maintained the dignified demeanor of an emperor – professional aura, truly awe-inspiring. The insights from the comments were indeed substantial and practical.
As for Cai Qu and the others beside her, their expressions momentarily grew somewhat distant. These palace attendants had often been accused by court officials of flattering the ruler, but only now did they realize that in the art of flattery, there are always greater masters, and one mountain is always higher than another. Compared to the unrestrained expressiveness of the Western Tribes, the emotional expressions in Jianping remained far too reserved.
After the local elders were escorted out, Cai Qu presented the letters from Jianping. Wen Yanran had not initially intended to deal with them immediately, but upon noticing the seal on the letters, she took the one on top and opened it directly – the Censor-in-Chief had enclosed a private letter within the official memorial, its content as straightforward and decisive as her usual style of conduct. He Tingyun expressed that, holding such a high position, she felt deeply unworthy and thus requested to be reassigned to Tai Province.
The palace attendants observed as the Emperor’s gaze lingered on the letter for a long while before she smiled faintly and remarked, “Truly worthy of Minister He.”
Wen Yanran recalled that He Tingyun was also nicknamed “Suspended He.” She now understood that the nicknames and summaries in the comments were distilled by players based on the entirety of the work’s plot. Thus, He Tingyun was likely someone who worked diligently in the early stages but became idle and unambitious later on – perfectly aligning with her own plan to consolidate power first before embracing incompetence as a ruler. Coupled with the genuine shortage of personnel in the western regions, she naturally approved the transfer request.
He Tingyun was now the Censor-in-Chief, and in terms of official rank alone, she could be considered at the pinnacle of courtly power. However, she had attained such a high position solely because she had stabbed the former Seventh Prince to death before his spirit tablet. While her abilities were undoubtedly commendable, He Tingyun was also keenly aware that her rapid rise had left her foundation unstable, and she had long contemplated seeking an assignment outside the capital. Coinciding with the Emperor’s pacification of the Western Tribes and the recent establishment of new policies, there was a pressing need for a capable and strong-willed official to oversee and implement them on the ground. Having served as Censor-in-Chief for a time, she was well-suited to awe and subdue the local regions.
Wen Yanran granted He Tingyun’s request to come and appointed her as the Inspector of Tai Province, additionally bestowing upon her the honorary title of Court Architect for Imperial Entertainment. This signified that He Tingyun remained, as before, a trusted confidant of the Emperor, and the transfer was solely due to the shortage of personnel in the western regions, rather than a deliberate demotion.
In addition to appointing a new inspector, Wen Yanran also began dealing with the four clans that had previously plotted rebellion. In the Great Zhou, rebellion was theoretically a capital offense, but in practice, there were varying standards of punishment.
This was also related to the current laxity of laws and the instability across the land. Wen Yanran’s predecessors in governance had achieved little positive effect. The number of various criminals in local areas was excessive, and impoverished commoners, unable to secure enough food, gradually turned to banditry. Sometimes, the people of an entire village or region were either powerful local magnates or outright rebels, leaving the officials in charge at a loss for how to handle the situation. Coupled with the precious value placed on population in this era, the only recourse was often to issue pardons. When the Shi clan of Jianping served outside the capital, they once wrote a letter admonishing the Emperor, stating that the weariness of the realm lay not only in the localities but also within the court itself. Emperor Li was displeased; although he did not exile the Shi clan to the borderlands, he suppressed them in various ways. It was not until the outspoken commandery administrator who had submitted the frank admonition hanged himself that the matter was considered closed.
Turning to the case of the Western Tribes, the lands and properties of the four clans -the Wang, Li, Lao, and Fuhe – were, of course, confiscated. Among the main leaders involved in the rebellion, Fuhe Fang and Li Huaidao had already perished. The direct heir of the Lao clan was dead, and its chieftain lay ill on her sickbed. Wang You was even more decisive. After meeting with the Emperor, she instructed her subordinates henceforth to obey the commands of Jianping and then ordered her trusted aide to behead her – in accordance with Great Zhou custom, when high-ranking officials committed grave crimes, the court would not immediately arrest and punish them but would first give some hints. If the offender chose to take their own life, their families would not be pursued.
Wang You knew that the crime of rebellion was difficult to pardon entirely. Facing the inevitable, she only hoped that Jianping, considering her willingness to cooperate, would show some leniency.
Seeing that the four clans, represented by the Wang clan, had suffered devastating losses, the central authorities indeed refrained from delivering a fatal blow. After all, unlike the Ji clan, which had once led the imperial guards and stormed the palace to cause chaos, these clans had been manipulated by the Emperor from beginning to end. Afterward, the less significant collateral branches of the clans were sentenced to penal servitude. As for the direct lineages, although officially sentenced to death, they could have their sentences reduced or commuted by paying fines in wealth. Wen Yanran personally paid the redemption money for several of the Wang clan’s younger members and allocated them a place in the outskirts of Jianping to build huts and observe mourning. After the mourning period, they would directly enter the Imperial Academy.
Additionally, the clan soldiers and retainers of the four clans – those still capable of fighting – had mostly been captured by Jianping. The remainder were disarmed and confined, awaiting disposition.
Wang Youyin approached and said, “General Zhong outside requests Your Majesty’s instruction on how to handle the surrendered western soldiers.”
Wen Yanran did not give an immediate reply. After a moment’s thought, she said, “While I am still here, we should first conduct a thorough survey of the local farmland.” Then she added, “As for those surrendered soldiers, why not relocate them all to the southern regions for resettlement?”
Upon hearing this, Wang Youyin was momentarily taken aback. The matter was truly unexpected, and for a moment, she failed to react. After a brief delay, she bowed and acknowledged the order.
As a person of considerable insight, Wang Youyin understood the Emperor’s reasoning – the forces in the western regions were deeply entangled. If the people were left in place, there was a fear that the situation might rekindle like dying embers. It would be better to relocate them from their original settlements, disperse them for resettlement, and then gradually address the issues.
The Great Zhou had previously arranged for the relocation of border peoples on multiple occasions, but never on such a scale – moving so many people at once. Moreover, Tai Province was located in the far west of the Great Zhou, while the southern regions were extremely distant. The various costs incurred during the journey, as well as the organization and arrangements, posed significant challenges. If someone else had proposed this, Wang Youyin would certainly have been skeptical. However, since the Emperor’s accession to the throne, many matters had unfolded in unexpected ways. If the Emperor were determined to proceed, they would have no choice but to follow orders.
Wen Yanran stayed peacefully in the Inspector’s residence. Approximately five days later, the preliminary results of the land survey in the Western territories were placed on her desk.
Wang Youyin and Cui Xinjing stood in attendance, learning the outcome of the survey at once: in the Western region alone, the amount of farmland was over fifteen million acres.
Upon hearing this figure, Wang Youyin’s heart skipped a beat for a moment.
Tai Province had many mountains and forests, and its territory was vast – the area of a single commandery could match half a prefecture in the Central Plains. Previously, the reported farmland amounted to five million acres, which was already considered abundant. Now, five million had directly become fifteen million. As long as this region paid taxes as usual, the treasury would be greatly enriched.
Simultaneously, Wang Youyin realized one thing: why the Emperor had previously leaked the news about relocating the surrendered soldiers to the southern regions – the locals certainly did not wish to leave their homeland and travel so far. Moreover, after this conflict, they understood that the Emperor was a person unmoved by either soft or hard tactics, a character difficult to sway. Thus, they devised a compromise: reporting the farmland figures of Tai Province as usual. This way, the central authorities would recognize that the Western region required sufficient population to cultivate the land. Even if relocation were to occur, it would not involve moving so many able-bodied adults all at once.
Countless thoughts raced through Wang Youyin’s mind, yet her expression remained utterly unchanged. She stood respectfully at the side with her hands lowered, just as she heard the Emperor say with a light laugh, “In that case, there is no need to relocate everyone. Let us simply select a portion among them.”
Cui Xinjing, standing opposite, showed a slight flicker in her eyes and bowed slightly, clearly understanding the Emperor’s intent as well.
Wen Yanran spoke slowly, “The Western Tribes have only recently been pacified, so governance policies here should differ from those in the Central Plains. From now on, we must appoint more officials for military-agricultural colonies in this region. All unclaimed farmland uncovered in the survey shall be confiscated and made state property. Local commandery administrators are to register households and organize the populace, allocating land according to the number of able-bodied adults in each household. If a household loses its adult members, the land shall be reclaimed by the state one year after their passing.” She added, “Taxation here shall also be levied based on the amount of farmland owned.”
Her words essentially replaced the long-standing poll tax of the Great Zhou with a land tax. However, given the precondition of allocating land according to the number of able-bodied adults, neither Wang Youyin nor Cui Xinjing immediately grasped the full implications. Instead, they assumed this was merely the Emperor’s policy to divide the power of the Western Tribes.
While Wen Yanran might have her biases, she was aware of phrases like “apportioning poll tax into land tax” and “returning melting loss fees to the public treasury.” She believed that as long as she took bold enough steps, she would inevitably stumble into pitfalls. At present, the loyalist forces in the Great Zhou remained formidable. If she appeared too blatantly incompetent, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t be sidelined at the first opportunity. The best course of action, therefore, was to engage in actions that seemed beneficial to the Great Zhou on the surface but carried profoundly negative consequences in reality.
Wen Yanran understood that reforms must align with the existing social relations and productive forces of the time. Thus, she believed that regardless of the potential benefits of “apportioning poll tax into land tax,” she would inevitably fail to achieve any significant results at this stage.
Just then, the long-dormant game system flickered once more, displaying a small update indicator. Approximately two hours later, after the update was complete, the game interface revealed a new section titled [Regional Output] beneath [War Sandbox].
Inside [Regional Output], there was only a single entry:
[Tai Province:
Total State-Owned Farmland (acres): 1,357;
Current Yield: 0 (not yet harvested);]
Wen Yanran had a lingering sense that the updated system seemed somewhat dimmer in appearance compared to before. However, considering that Guide to Becoming a Tyrant was never a game with any particular artistic advantages to begin with, she paid it no further mind.
