Zhao Hanzhang was somewhat confused. “Those books… are copies, not the originals.”
“I know. You’d naturally keep Lord Zhao’s originals. I wouldn’t dare ask for your grandfather’s manuscripts. To receive hand-copied versions—I’m already honored beyond measure.” Liu Yi was moved to tears. “How many people in this world can obtain a hand-copied book with your ancestor’s annotations?”
Actually, quite a few.
Zhao Hanzhang had selected many books from her family’s collection and sent them to print shops for engraving and printing. Not only schools in various commanderies and counties, but even bookshops were well-stocked with them. Though the prices were somewhat high, many people still purchased them.
In Yuzhou, if not quite everyone who read had a copy, at least half did. Because of this, Zhao Changyu’s and the Zhao clan’s reputation had grown even deeper these past two years, resounding throughout the Yuzhou aristocratic circles.
However, due to inconvenient transportation and information bias, no one in Pingyang knew about this.
Because she wanted Liu Yi to study more Confucian classics and support Han governance, and because she was poor, she had chosen books as gifts.
Because scouts had discovered the other side was sending out more and more scouts, clearly becoming suspicious, she personally delivered the gift to warn and intimidate them.
She never imagined Liu Yi would personally come to return the courtesy. Did this count as lifting a rock only to drop it on her own foot?
She didn’t know these books held such value in Liu Yuan’s eyes that he would allow Liu Yi to come to her camp.
Could it be… that Liu Yuan suspected her camp was empty and deliberately sent Liu Yi to investigate?
Zhao Hanzhang’s probing gaze turned toward Liu Yi. After a moment, she shook her head inwardly. Impossible—the current Liu Yi lacked such scheming.
Then it must be the guards who came with him.
Zhao Hanzhang calmly scanned the area, then smiled at Liu Yi. “I told you I truly consider you a friend. Not just my grandfather’s hand-copied books—if you wanted to see the originals, I could show you those too.”
She joked, “But I couldn’t give them to you. Otherwise, the moment I hand them over, I’d be whipped by my family elders.”
Liu Yi asked curiously, “Inspector Zhao, are there still people in your family who dare to whip you?”
“There are. I have an uncle who’s quite fierce. If I dared give you my grandfather’s manuscripts, he really would whip me.”
Even Fu Tinghan couldn’t help but turn his head to glance at her. Zhao Ming’s reputation had been harmed.
It wasn’t good to keep talking on horseback. Zhao Hanzhang simply dismounted and invited everyone else to do the same, finding a nearby patch of grass to sit and chat.
Liu Yi hesitated, but still sat across from her and Fu Tinghan. “Inspector Zhao and Master Fu, what brings you here?”
Fu Tinghan looked at Zhao Hanzhang.
Zhao Hanzhang was silent for a moment before saying, “We were just wandering around. I didn’t expect such a coincidence to meet the Prince of Beihai.”
If it were Liu Cong opposite them, he definitely wouldn’t believe this. But it was Liu Yi, and he didn’t think twice before believing her. He said happily, “This is our fate.”
Those words—Fu Tinghan wasn’t jealous at all. Too innocent. He couldn’t work up any jealousy.
Zhao Hanzhang honestly refused to invite Liu Yi to the camp to avoid the Han court and officials generating misunderstandings again. Liu Yi understood and sat on the grass chatting with her.
During this time, he had accumulated many questions, but asking different people yielded different answers.
Especially regarding measures for Han governance, such as converting fields to pasture.
“Father also abhors this deeply but has to turn a blind eye. Otherwise, if he forcefully stops it with harsh methods, he’ll surely provoke resentment from the Five Divisions, which could lead to unrest. My uncle also opposes it, believing farming brings far more value than herding, but the Five Divisions won’t listen. The Grand Tutor and others think we Xiongnu are naturally skilled at herding and prefer eating cattle and sheep. If we don’t herd, we’d have to rely on Han Chinese and Di people for farming.”
“And the Han Chinese are cunning, while the Di…” Liu Yi suppressed his negative words about the Di people and said, “Over time, this land might no longer be theirs—who knows when the Han Chinese might trick them out of it. So they insist on herding as primary. Moreover, they also need space to practice horsemanship and archery.”
Liu Yi asked her, “If you were Inspector Zhao, how would you govern?”
Zhao Hanzhang said, “If it were me, I’d separate the Xiongnu and Han Chinese, letting them govern themselves.”
Liu Yi was stunned. “Self-governance?”
Zhao Hanzhang nodded. “For those skilled at herding, give them an area suitable for grazing where they can live and produce. For those skilled at farming, give them land suitable for cultivation where they can farm.”
Liu Yi pressed his lips together. “How can this be? This is Xiongnu territory.”
“I haven’t denied that.” At this moment, Zhao Hanzhang didn’t deny the Han state or Liu Yuan. “Whether Xiongnu, Han, Di, or Xianbei—if they live under Han governance, they’re all your subjects. As emperor, you’re simply designating areas for their governance.”
She sighed. “You took the wrong path from the very beginning, dividing your subjects into hierarchies—Xiongnu people can enslave other peoples at will without legal restraint. This created the current predicament where Han can neither advance nor retreat.”
Liu Yi was young, his eyes showing incomprehension and defiance. “Don’t you Han Chinese also divide people into hierarchies? The aristocratic families’ status far exceeds other classes.”
“That’s division by social class, but your Han state divides by ethnicity. Slaves can redeem themselves to become commoners. Commoners can study and enter officialdom to become aristocrats. Merchants and craftsmen all have opportunities. The state has laws—even emperors need justifiable reasons for what they want. Otherwise, they’ll be spurned by all like the current Jin house, bringing disaster to future generations.”
“Whereas ethnicity is innate—no one can choose their birth. In the Han state, Xiongnu people are naturally noble while Han, Xianbei, Di, and Jie are naturally lowly. Xiongnu can kill Han on the street without reason, can seize others’ fields at will, can turn free people into slaves.”
Liu Yi suddenly stood up, his face iron-blue. “Inspector Zhao, don’t forget—you Han people did the same! Otherwise, how did General Shi become a slave?”
Shi Le was walking down a road when he was seized by soldiers to pay for military provisions, turned from free man to slave, traded around various places.
Zhao Hanzhang’s face showed some sorrow. “Yes, and so Jin is tottering, already in its twilight years. Prince of Beihai, do you want to compare the newly established Han state with it?”
Liu Yi opened and closed his mouth, unable to speak for a long time.
Zhao Hanzhang patted his shoulder. “The Han state has only been established four years. There’s still time to correct this. Prince of Beihai, why not return and ask the Han Emperor?”
Liu Yi stared fixedly at her. “Inspector Zhao, are your words sincere toward me and toward Han?”
Zhao Hanzhang said, “The Prince of Beihai is intelligent, and the Han Emperor possesses great strategic vision. You can judge for yourselves whether my words benefit or harm Han.”
Liu Yi hesitated, then couldn’t help asking, “Aren’t you afraid these words will reach Jin court officials and arouse their suspicion?”
Zhao Hanzhang smiled and swept her gaze around the circle. “Everyone here is among your trusted followers or mine. My people naturally won’t spread this outside. As for your people—even if they stood before my Great Jin Emperor and swore it was true, do you think he’d believe them or believe me?”
Everyone knew she’d been on the front lines resisting the Xiongnu. When the time came, one phrase about “sowing discord” could push everything away cleanly. There was no recording here, no video evidence. Just because you say I said it means I said it?
—