Chapter Thirty-One: Traveling with You
At the opportune moment, citing the reason that "the capital is too hot, so I am moving to the Yanlan Mountain Palace to escape the heat," the emperor entrusted several regents with the temporary handling of daily affairs. In reality, he secretly left the capital with a small group of absolutely loyal guards and began a secret southern tour. The main purposes of this trip were twofold: first, to personally inspect the actual situation of the Yellow River floods and understand the suffering of the people; and second, to secretly investigate the truth behind the framing of Yunji.
Before leaving Beijing, he wrote a letter and sent it to Guo Huairou by carrier pigeon. The letter was brief, only briefly outlining his intention to make a southern tour and his concerns about Yunji's impeachment. He invited her to accompany him under the guise of "Jiancheng Jun" (a title for a court lady), hoping she would secretly assist in his investigation under the pretext of "relaxing." He knew that with Huairou's intelligence and concern for Yunji, she would surely understand the deeper meaning behind the letter. Moreover, as a woman, she would be less likely to attract attention and would have access to levels that were difficult to reach through official channels.
Upon receiving the letter, Huairou pondered for a moment and realized that this matter concerned Yunji's future and even his life. She bid farewell to her mother, saying only that she was going to Yongzhou to travel and relax at the invitation of a friend. Madam Guo knew that her daughter was always independent and did not object too much. She simply packed her things carefully and gently instructed her, "Be careful on your journey, and do whatever you wish." Her words carried the unique insight and tolerance of a mother.
So, like Ji Moli, Huairou carried a short knife for self-defense, prepared enough money, and together with her personal maid Caihe, quietly left the capital in an inconspicuous green-canopied carriage, embarking on their journey south.
The rainy season in the south is humid and muggy. On this day, the sky cleared up for once, and sunlight shone through the gaps in the clouds, dispelling the gloom of the past few days. The group from Huairou arrived as agreed in a bustling hub town on the banks of the canal and checked into an inn called "Yuelai".
After washing away the dust of her journey and changing into a clean, moon-white ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), Huairou felt as if the fatigue from days of travel had been washed away by the rare sunshine. A strange mix of excitement and nervousness filled her heart. Three years had passed since their parting at Guanghe Palace. What would it be like to see "Jianchengjun," the man she had discussed the past and present with in her letters, shared her innermost thoughts, and helped Yunji, appear before her again?
She put on a veiled hat with a thin gauze veil to cover her face and went up the stairs of the inn to the second floor. He was supposed to wait for her there, as agreed in the letter.
Stepping onto the second-floor corridor, following the sound, a familiar figure suddenly came into view beside a window seat. He was speaking quietly with a middle-aged man dressed as a businessman. The sunlight slanted across his profile, outlining a clear and upright figure. The composure and authority in his eyes could not be completely concealed, even though he was dressed in ordinary dark blue brocade robes. But at this moment, that authority seemed to be gilded with a golden warmth by the sunlight.
Huairou felt a surge of excitement. She wanted to see him, but couldn't bring herself to say it; she wanted to go, but didn't know her place. Was he really the one she had confided in and who had written her book? A feeling of anticipation welled up within her, all because of the extraordinary bearing and breathtaking beauty of the man before her. Ultimately, a sudden flustered feeling took over. In a daze, she lowered the veil from her hat, turned, and tried to leave to calm her emotions.
"Huairou, don't go."
A deep, familiar voice sounded from behind her, carrying an undeniable gentle strength that instantly stopped her in her tracks.
Before she could turn around, she only felt a slight movement of light and shadow before the man was already beside her. Through the thin veil, she could feel his focused gaze.
“You don’t know,” his voice held a faint, seemingly genuine reproach, but more so a warm feeling of relief, “I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”
The slight annoyance and shyness in Huairou's heart were instantly dispelled by his familiar tone, replaced by a warm current of joy. She gently lifted the thin veil in front of her hat, looked up at him, and a faint smile unconsciously appeared on her lips. She was just annoyed that there was no instrument to measure time in this era. Jiancheng—the emperor, who was disguised at the moment—looked at her slightly flushed cheeks and her overly bright eyes, a quick smile flashed in his eyes, but he didn't say much, only naturally stepping aside to lead the way: "It's alright. Let's go, we'll be setting off soon." His tone carried a long-lost, unpretentious casualness.
Two carriages, one after the other, departed the inn and merged into the official road heading south. Jiancheng and Huairou rode in the same carriage so they could talk. The guards, disguised as attendants and drivers, stood vigilantly by their side.
The carriage traveled along the official road, the scenery along the Yellow River flashing past the window. Although affected by the floods, some unaffected areas remained verdant with green hills and clear waters, rice paddies, and fishing boats returning at dusk—a scene reminiscent of the gentle water towns of southern China. Between counties and prefectures, they did not rush, but frequently stopped, turning their carriages onto country lanes to observe the lives of the people firsthand.
They would stop at passing markets, pretending to be ordinary travelers, wandering around, listening to the vendors' calls, chatting with farmers, resting at roadside teahouses, tasting the local, rustic yet fresh food, and even staying at simple rural inns. Huairou carefully observed everything along the way, from the growth of crops in the fields to the farming tools used by farmers, from the types and prices of goods circulating in the markets to the expressions on the faces of the people and the content of their conversations.
One day, they arrived at a place surrounded by mountains, where terraced fields, like emerald steps, spiraled from the foot of the mountains to their midsection. Huairou sat down to rest on a large rock warmed by the sun by the roadside. Gazing at the scene before her, she couldn't help but sigh, "Lord Jiancheng, along this journey, I've discovered that the conditions under which the people cultivate the land are far too rudimentary. Even a decent iron farm tool is rare; most are made of wood and stone. And look at these fields, each one so small and scattered. How much grain can they harvest in the autumn with such farming?" Her modern mind, accustomed to mechanized farms, was perplexed and filled with regret.
Jiancheng was patiently whittling a freshly cut bamboo tube with his small knife when he heard her voice. He looked up, following her gaze to the terraced fields, and smiled, “Huairou, you don’t know this. This place is surrounded by mountains, and flat land is scarce. The creation of these terraced fields is actually our ancestors’ way of making the most of the land by adapting to its natural advantages. Look at those ridges,” he pointed, “they not only divide the land into plots, but more importantly, they can retain the rainwater flowing down the mountainside, which is beneficial for irrigation and reduces soil erosion. It is the greatest way to cherish this gift of rain. The wisdom here is incomparable to the laborious leveling of large fields.”
Huairou was slightly taken aback. Upon closer inspection, she indeed saw that the ridges between the fields resembled contour lines, guiding and preserving the landscape in an orderly manner. She secretly admired this "royal uncle" who had grown up in the deep palace, for he had such a profound understanding of farming, and his words were always to the point.
Her defiant spirit resurfaced, and after a moment's thought, she changed her approach: "Even so, Lord Jiancheng, from what we've seen along the way, most people live in poverty. Families appear busy, yet they still struggle to get enough to eat and wear, making raising children especially difficult. If this continues, the population will decrease, labor will be insufficient, and the fields will become even more barren. Isn't this the reason why the court imposes excessive taxes and exploits us so much?"
Jiancheng continued whittling the bamboo tube, his expression remaining calm. He answered unhurriedly, “Huairou, your concern for the common people is commendable. But you are unaware that seven or eight tenths of the land in this world has historically been the fiefdoms or private property of various nobles, meritorious officials, and members of the imperial family. Most of what is produced in the fields first belongs to these landowners. When the court collects taxes, the bulk of the revenue is levied on these officials, noble families, gentry, and local tyrants who own vast amounts of land. They are the main contributors to the national taxes and imperial grain.”
He paused, examined the shaved bamboo tube in his hand, and continued, "People all say that taxes are heavy, but they overlook the source and distribution system of these taxes. The reason why officials and noble families own thousands of acres of fertile land and manors is because their ancestors risked their lives and made great contributions to this country, thus earning such rewards. Now, the soldiers on the frontier are fighting bloody battles to protect their homes and country, and most of the military pay and provisions they consume must come from the taxes of these nobles. This is precisely the principle by which the country maintains its balance."
Upon hearing this, Huairou was speechless. She realized that her previous thoughts had indeed been somewhat simplistic. In this era, private land ownership and aristocratic privileges were fundamental. Ultimately, there was a difference in "class" and a completely different "social system" between her and Jiancheng. It was already commendable that he could be so frank; if she continued to argue, she would be overstepping her bounds.
But the problem remained unsolved. Huairou paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then asked, "If that's the case, how much of the harvest will the peasants who work for the landlords ultimately receive?"
Jiancheng handed the bamboo tube to the guard beside him, gesturing for him to fetch some clear mountain spring water. Then he looked at Huairou with a deep gaze: "According to usual practice, the tenant farmers' income is probably less than three or four tenths of the harvest. Moreover, tenant farmers often owe debts to landlords, and the debts are passed down from father to son, making it difficult for generations to escape this predicament."
"That makes sense!" Huairou's eyes flashed, as if she had grasped the key point. "Landlords always find ways to evade the taxes they are supposed to pay. The land is inherited from their ancestors, and they enjoy the fruits of their labor without having to work, while farmers toil all year, and most of the harvest goes to them. Farmers themselves receive very little, and they also have to bear various miscellaneous taxes and corvée labor. How can they afford to raise children? So they have no choice but to borrow money from landlords at high interest rates to make a living. Over time, the descendants of farmers will become unable to cope after several generations, and then they will rebel and change dynasties..." Zhen Jiancheng listened thoughtfully.
As Huairou spoke, his thoughts became clearer, reflecting on his own experience as a "working class." In comparison, farmers might as well join the army; at least the army provided food and clothing, and offered a salary, a chance to risk their lives to support their families. Alternatively, they could study diligently, pass the imperial examinations, and once on the path of officialdom, receive a government salary, social status, and power, even the opportunity to be rewarded with land for merit. This stark contrast in lifestyles led many to consider becoming an official a source of pride; having finally obtained power, how could they not scheme and plot in the officialdom?
She sighed inwardly, realizing that in any era, the "proletariat" is easily forced into a narrow living space. "Whether you're a soldier or an official, you're essentially working for the 'state,' the biggest employer, which is better than working directly for the 'landlord.' No wonder everyone says the end of the universe is taking the civil service exam."
Jiancheng was already used to the bold and sometimes whimsical way of speaking of the young woman in his arms. He did not refute her, but listened patiently. Seeing that tiny beads of sweat appeared on her nose from excitement, he naturally took out a plain handkerchief from his sleeve, reached out, and gently and accurately wiped the sweat from her forehead. Then he handed her the bamboo tube that the guard had retrieved and that was now filled with sweet mountain spring water.
“Huairou, what you say makes sense.” He watched her sip the spring water and said slowly, “However, our dynasty is a system supported by numerous noble clans. Although the central government is centralized, when conquering the country, it relied on the private armies they gathered; when maintaining the country, it relied on the wealth and influence they accumulated. Even if the emperor wants to collect taxes from them or implement new policies, he must assess the situation, seize the opportunity, and exert great effort to negotiate. It is by no means as easy as taking something out of a bag.”
The words "conglomerate" and "power struggle"—highly modern terms—instantly popped into Huairou's mind, but she pursed her lips, remaining silent and simply nodding obediently in understanding. She had finally touched upon a deeper issue—the reason agriculture developed slowly and farmers faced such hardship in this era lay in their absolute disadvantage within the power struggles of the entire social structure. All economic foundations depended on land, and the distribution of land resources had been solidified from the early days of the dynasty, relying on an initial allocation based on "merit" and "force." To touch the core interests of the nobles—the "land" pie—would trigger enormous turmoil. To improve people's livelihoods without bloodshed, perhaps it was truly necessary to do what Yunji did in the Northern Frontier: without directly altering the existing land system, to find alternative paths, develop commerce, and explore new sources of wealth, thus gently promoting change.
The setting sun painted the clouds on the horizon into a magnificent tapestry, and the carriage traveled leisurely along the official road. In two more days, they would arrive at Yongzhou, the hardest-hit area of the recent flood. Jiancheng's stated purpose for this trip was to inspect the disaster situation and coordinate relief efforts; however, Huairou's covert mission was to use his position to investigate the source of the false accusation against Yunji and to uncover its true motives.
The carriage swayed and rocked, like a hypnotic rhythm. The days of travel, in-depth observation and brain-burning thinking left Huairou feeling mentally and physically exhausted. She unknowingly leaned on Jiancheng's shoulder and fell asleep.
The emperor stiffened almost imperceptibly the moment she leaned closer. He lowered his eyes, looking at the peaceful sleeping face of the woman in his arms, who seemed completely unguarded, even somewhat childlike. Her breathing was even, and her warm breath brushed against his neck.
The emperor did not disturb her. He simply adjusted her posture slightly to make her more comfortable, then gave a look to the captain of the guards who was driving the carriage and occasionally glancing back through the small window. The captain immediately understood and drove the carriage more steadily.
The carriage was quiet, save for the rumble of the wheels and the occasional calls of birds returning home from outside the window. He knew that without his imperial entourage, she had suffered during this time. A faint smile appeared on his face. No one knew the feelings he had for her, finally able to see her again after shedding his imperial robes.
The carriage continued forward, heading into the twilight-shrouded distance, and also into the unknown turmoil hidden behind the disaster and false accusations.
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