Many were aware that the Emperor had been summoning officials from the Ministry of Revenue frequently as of late.
Wen Yanran was preparing for the upcoming conflict in the east. At the very least, the taxes from that region could hardly be relied upon for the next year or two. The war in Tai Province had concluded swiftly and cleanly, so the losses were not too severe. The concealed lands and households uncovered after the conflict could serve as a slight supplement. However, the population in the east far exceeded that of Dan and Tai. If war truly broke out, the losses would undoubtedly be immense.
Even someone like her, who was not well-versed in military affairs, understood that supplies must precede the movement of troops. Logistics were both extremely complicated and critically important. The east was already sharpening its knives, ready to rise at any moment. Wen Yanran could not let the soldiers at the frontlines fight on empty stomachs. Lu Yuanguang, who had already worked overtime until she fell ill twice due to the Western Tribes affair, now had to throw herself into new tasks. Though young and full of energy, she had noticeably lost weight since the start of the Tai Province conflict. Her loose official robes now hung on her frame, giving an almost fragile appearance.
Deeply aware of the shortage of capable personnel at her disposal, Wen Yanran decided to adopt the same approach used to recruit talent skilled in water conservancy – this time to select individuals proficient in arithmetic.
After thorough inquiry, she discovered that texts such as The Nine Chapters on the Mathematical Art did not exist in this time and place. Although Jianping retained a considerable amount of arithmetic-related materials, they lacked a standardized framework.
“Ah-Luo, take an imperial physician to Minister Lu’s residence to check on her. Let her rest properly at home these two days. Once she recovers, I still have use for her.”
Ever since Lu Yuanguang rose from Vice Minister to Minister, her previous position had remained vacant. To better assign roles to her subordinates, Wen Yanran decided to set up a simple internal examination for the Ministry of Revenue. She personally drafted a test paper, including questions on land measurement, grain conversion, tax allocation, along with a few geometry problems and linear equations with two unknowns, intending to assess their skills.
Upon hearing of this, the ever-loyal Censor-in-Chief Song grew deeply concerned for the Emperor – after all, mastery lies in specialization. It is rare enough for a person to excel in a single skill, yet the new Emperor was already an exceptionally talented individual. While statecraft was something she had been immersed in since childhood, and military strategy came to her as a natural gift, mathematics required dedicated study to truly grasp. The Emperor had only attended classes for a few days, and Yuan Yanshi and others had mostly lectured her on classics and the principles of governance. Even if the Emperor had some knowledge of mathematics, how could she compare to the seasoned clerks of the ministry? Moreover, with Minister Lu on sick leave at home, what if the Emperor inadvertently revealed her shortcomings?
Wen Yanran, with her engineering background, remained unaware of Censor-in-Chief Song’s internal concerns. After setting the examination papers, she scheduled the exam, appointed Chi Yi as the invigilator, and even took some time to personally grade the papers.
Censor-in-Chief Song made a special effort to inquire about the situation in the Ministry of Revenue. A subordinate reported back that after the exam, the officials of the ministry looked rather disheartened. When pressed further, they either hid their faces in their sleeves or gazed skyward with sighs.
Upon receiving this news, Censor-in-Chief Song conveniently overlooked the fact that the Emperor’s mastery of classics and etiquette fell far below the average level of court officials. Instead, he became even more convinced that the Great Zhou Emperor was indeed divinely chosen – a sovereign of such profound and unfathomable knowledge.
Western Yong Palace.
Wen Yanran looked over the examination papers, taking a deep, silent breath.
The Great Zhou had not seen many long-lived emperors. The posthumous title of the emperor two reigns before her was even “Dao” (Lamentable). Wen Yanran had originally thought this was due to the underdeveloped medical standards of the time. Now, it occurred to her that perhaps when her predecessors worked diligently, they were often infuriated by the subpar performance of their subordinates.
The method of selecting officials in the Great Zhou was far from scientific. Although the imperial examination system existed, the entire process was largely nominal. Each time the exams were held, not many candidates showed up. For most scholars, the primary path to advancement was through recommendation. As a result, the professional skills of many officials fell short of the demands of their duties.
Before setting the examination, Wen Yanran had merely intended to gauge the general competence level of the Ministry of Revenue staff. She had not expected that officials from the central government would submit such error-riddled papers.
Her initial expectation was that the average correct answer rate among the Ministry of Revenue officials would be above 70%. However, after grading the papers, she found the rate was only around 40%.
Among them was one who essentially submitted a blank paper – a scholar from the Song clan. Wen Yanran ordered the City Bureau to verify his background. The reason this person served in the Ministry of Revenue was not due to any unspeakable behind-the-scenes dealings; the entire selection process from entry to assignment fully complied with court standards. The individual in question was proficient in classics and etiquette, possessed adequate moral character, and even consulted senior clerks when encountering difficult tasks. The reason for his low score on the exam… was simply sheer incompetence.
The Emperor closed the report and gently tapped it on the table. A faint smile still lingered at the corner of her lips, but her eyes held no warmth. “‘To know others is wisdom; to know oneself is insight.’ Since this person understands when to seek guidance, he may be considered to possess ‘insight.'”
The Emperor did not explicitly reprimand anyone, yet Chi Yi and Zhang Luo sensed an unspoken sharpness in her words. Hearing this, the palace attendants lowered their heads and stood solemnly, not daring to utter a sound.
Leaning back against the soft cushion, Wen Yanran issued an order. “Summon the Chancellor of the Imperial Academy to the palace.”
The current Chancellor of the Imperial Academy was Wen Jishan, a member of the imperial clan. He had previously been summoned to the palace to lecture the Emperor on matters of etiquette. Though his own knowledge was respectable, he was not considered a first-rate talent. It was only due to his status as a relative of the imperial family that he held his position securely.
Wen Yanran offered him a seat and spoke directly, “I have observed that most officials in the court today are well-versed in classics but lack proficiency in mathematics. When those in office are unfamiliar with practical details, they are easily deceived by their subordinates. Therefore, from now on, a mathematics discipline shall be added to the Imperial Academy, with regular examinations.” She continued, “The old numerical characters are inconvenient for study. After reviewing historical texts, I have compiled a new set of numerical symbols. I must trouble the Chancellor to select personnel to teach these to the Imperial Academy students.”
As a player whose ultimate goal was to be a tyrannical ruler, Wen Yanran had originally hesitated to promote Arabic numerals and common mathematical symbols, fearing the risk of being seen as an enlightened sovereign. However, compared to that, working overtime was clearly more agonizing…
The Jianzhou Lu family’s expertise in mathematics was widely known. Feeling that his own arithmetic skills were not outstanding enough, the Chancellor of the Imperial Academy immediately visited the Lu residence, hoping to invite talented members of their clan to serve as mathematics professors at the academy. Lu Yuanguang, who was originally recuperating from illness, got up after reading the explanations of the symbols, draped her outer robe over her shoulders, and took the papers to consult her grandaunt, Lu Zhongmao.
Lu Zhongmao had been renowned for her talent and learning since her youth, but her timing was unfortunate – the years most suited for pursuing an official career spanned the reigns of Emperor Dao and Emperor Li, so she ultimately decided to study behind closed doors, occasionally teaching students in her spare time.
Despite her advanced age, Lu Zhongmao remained neatly dressed and well-groomed. Tall and slender, she still carried an air of what was once described as “the grace of a pine, the poise of a crane” in her youth. Her graying hair was meticulously tied up. After carefully examining the papers her grandniece handed her for a long time, she sighed, “These symbols… I had thought they were created by reclusive masters of profound learning, but who in the world possesses such skill?”
Lu Yuanguang said, “Perhaps they were privately offered by the Cui clan?”
Lu Zhongmao shook her head. “The Cui clan has many talented individuals, but most focus on political strategy and planning. Take Cui Xinbai, for instance – if she could concentrate solely on studying mathematics without distractions, she might be capable of such a feat.”
Lu Yuanguang understood: since her grandaunt added so many conditions, it meant that with the Cui clan’s current abilities, they were not yet capable of summarizing such symbols.
Lu Zhongmao continued, “What did Her Majesty say?”
Lu Yuanguang replied softly, “The Emperor mentioned that these were found in historical texts.”
Lu Zhongmao’s gaze shifted slightly. Without continuing the previous topic, she smiled instead and said, “Today, Chancellor Wen made a special visit, inviting members of the Lu clan to serve as professors at the Imperial Academy. He acted on the Emperor’s orders, so we naturally shouldn’t let him return empty-handed.”
Lu Yuanguang asked, “Whom do you plan to send to the Imperial Academy, Grandaunt?”
Lu Zhongmao straightened her robes and replied, “I have been idle for too long. Though I am already an old relic, I am not yet so senile as to be unable to read. Why not go to the Imperial Academy and do my part for Her Majesty?”
Although she was somewhat skeptical of the Emperor’s words, if those symbols truly had been found in historical texts, how could she resist seeking an opportunity to examine the palace’s collection of books? Though the position of Imperial Academy professor was not highly ranked, it allowed frequent access to all kinds of classical texts.
To be fair, Wen Yanran wasn’t exactly lying. She had merely omitted the titles of the texts in her description. After all, she couldn’t very well tell her ministers that the texts mentioning these numerical symbols were called Elementary School Mathematics Textbook (First Grade, Volume 1), especially given the vastly different era and circumstances…
At this moment, Wen Yanran found herself missing the earlier days when she was traveling. Though the living conditions had been rougher then, at least she hadn’t been burdened with so many tedious administrative tasks. She could only hope that the staff at the Imperial Academy would put more effort into teaching. Once a batch of competent logistics personnel had been trained, she could finally free herself up to personally visit the front lines.
Just as Wen Yanran shifted her focus from grain and fodder issues to the curriculum of the Imperial Academy, Shi Zhuhe and the others at the front remained quite successful, having never sent back a request for reinforcements.
The troops they had brought were already limited in number, and they had supplemented their supplies with the grain reserves from the Feng family’s fortifications. Even after absorbing surrendered soldiers from Lujia City, they faced no significant survival pressure.
After the night raid, Shi Zhuhe had already grasped the surface-level reasoning behind the attack from Lujia City. The “mountain bandits” had detected Gan Wei’s actions and believed the government troops were planning to move against them, so they struck first to catch the soldiers off guard.
In the previously agreed-upon script, Gan Wei was supposed to plead with Shi Zhuhe afterward, claiming that his whereabouts had been exposed because he had tipped off the government troops. As a result, the safety of the Gan clan in Lujia City would inevitably be threatened by the Ge clan. Even if Shi Zhuhe didn’t impulsively rush his troops over to wipe out the mountain bandits in a fit of passion, as a scion of a noble family with a certain moral standing, he wouldn’t simply stand by and watch the Gan clan meet their demise.
Shi Zhuhe was indeed a scion of a noble family with a certain moral standing. However, the character he was currently portraying clearly differed significantly from his actual personality.
Thoroughly deceived by the enemy’s acting skills, Gan Wei felt it was increasingly difficult to execute the subsequent scheme. In his eyes, Shi Zhuhe’s moral depravity was truly rare in this world. Someone who could shamelessly claim credit for his subordinates’ achievements naturally wouldn’t care about the fate of the Gan clan. Yet, Gan Wei himself couldn’t storm off in anger, as leaving would mean losing track of Shi Zhuhe and his group’s latest movements.
During the day, under the guise of taking a stroll to clear his mind, Gan Wei wandered around the military camp, seizing opportunities to observe the surrendered soldiers. However, constrained by his current persona, he dared not make any major moves. Shi Zhuhe and the others did not restrict Gan Wei’s movements – Shi Zhuhe governed the camp with a relaxed exterior but tight internal control. While it appeared he imposed few strict constraints on the soldiers, in reality, nothing escaped his notice. Naturally, Gan Wei remained unaware that Chen Ming and Ren Feihong were coming and going right under his nose, meeting with Shi Zhuhe to discuss matters.
Chen Ming’s personality was less pronounced than Ren Feihong’s, but she excelled in steadiness. She carefully informed her colleagues of the information she had gathered. “The details from the surrendered soldiers align closely with what we already know. Outside Lujia City, there are forts belonging to the Ge, Gong, and Gan clans. As prominent local families, these forts must have accumulated substantial private militias. With the presence of those ‘mountain bandits’ nearby, capturing this city requires strategy rather than brute force.”
Ren Feihong smiled and said, “Haven’t we already planned to rely on strategy?” She then glanced at Shi Zhuhe, adding, “Based on Commander Shi’s performance that day, it’s clear the opportune moment has arrived.”
At this point, any outsider unaware of the inside story would likely dismiss these young people as mere braggarts. Even with fewer troops, Lujia City still had tens of thousands of soldiers, while Shi Zhuhe had only around two thousand men fit for battle.
