Zhang Shi was already prepared and could depart at any time. Of course, his father Zhang Gui still didn’t know about this—he was still waiting in Western Liang for Zhang Shi to return.

He very much wanted to know about affairs in the capital and had been closely following developments in Dai Kingdom recently.

Like him, closely monitoring the capital and concerned about Dai Kingdom’s situation were Shi Le and Beigong Chun.

However, they had telegraph stations and received news much faster.

The afternoon of the second day after the new emperor’s enthronement, they received word that Tuoba Liuxiu had become the new Dai King, Dai Kingdom was placed under Youzhou jurisdiction, and though the Dai King would have military authority in future, he wouldn’t have actual local governance power.

All Dai Kingdom officials would require court appointment.

Even current tribal chieftains had to receive fresh court investiture, even if the personnel didn’t change.

Upon hearing this, Shi Le was triumphant and laughed heartily, telling Zhang Bin: “What’s meant to be mine is mine. Sir, you were right—no need to force it. Dai Kingdom was always destined to be mine!”

Zhang Bin also grinned broadly, correcting him: “It belongs to His Majesty. General, don’t let that slip in public.”

“I know, I know.” Shi Le waved dismissively. “Naturally I’d only say such things to you, sir.”

Shi Le’s eyes blazed as he clenched his fists: “Dai Kingdom has lush water and grass—perfect for raising cattle, sheep, and fine horses. With Dai Kingdom, plus the vast salt wells within Youzhou territory, and arable land besides, Youzhou’s rise is just a matter of time.”

Zhang Bin’s eyes flashed with worry, which he quickly suppressed before saying: “Has the general never considered going to more prosperous regions as a regional administrator in future? Such as Jizhou, Xuzhou, or even Yuzhou.”

Currently, the most prosperous and wealthy province in all the realm was universally acknowledged to be Yuzhou.

Shi Le looked doubtful. “Would the emperor let me become Yuzhou Governor?”

Zhang Bin smiled: “Why not? I observe His Majesty employs people without prejudice. In future, it’s not impossible. With the general’s ability, even entering court as a minister is possible.”

Shi Le fell silent. After a long while, he sighed and advised: “I know you care for me, sir, but don’t praise me so. I still have self-awareness.”

In the Han Kingdom—oh, that was Liu Yuan’s Xiongnu Kingdom—of course he’d be confident he could become king or minister. After all, everyone there was equally rough. Liu Yuan’s subordinates either had backgrounds like his or were bandits and brigands. He didn’t feel inferior to anyone.

But compared to Zhao Hanzhang’s people…

Just one Zu Ti made Shi Le feel inadequate.

In warfare, both Zu Ti and Beigong Chun commanded troops better than him. In scholarly matters, needless to say—any random person under Zhao Hanzhang far surpassed him.

Zhao Hanzhang herself was accomplished in both civil and military arts, both superior to him.

So Shi Le had always felt somewhat inferior—both proud and insecure simultaneously.

Seeing he still retained self-awareness, Zhang Bin immediately said: “The general isn’t inferior either. Why not start studying with me now? With the general’s ability, becoming a marquis and minister is just a matter of time.”

Shi Le’s scalp tingled. Under Zhang Bin’s earnest gaze, he reluctantly nodded.

Then a few days later, Shi Le received a telegraph. He had been enfeoffed as Marquis Xuanwu.

He immediately tossed aside the book in his hands, placed hands on hips, and laughed heartily, telling those around him: “Did you hear? This general is now a marquis too.”

So one could become a marquis without studying after all.

Zhang Bin, arriving just then and seeing the book tossed on the couch, was speechless for a long moment.

Shi Le met Zhang Bin’s gaze and explained: “Sir, I’ve been enfeoffed as marquis.”

Zhang Bin said: “General, I heard while still outside. They say Zu Ti was enfeoffed as Duke of Beiping Commandery, and General Beigong was enfeoffed as Duke Yingguo.”

Shi Le fell silent.

Zhang Bin advised: “Since the general constantly compares himself with those two, take them as your goal.”

Shi Le swallowed hard. He felt Zhang Bin was right, but…

He compromised: “I can listen to books for two hours daily.”

Zhang Bin considered this and nodded, but still counseled: “Though listening to books also teaches things, articles interpreted through others’ mouths inevitably carry their views. The general should still read more books so you can read the original texts yourself and form your own understanding. That has a special wonderful flavor.”

Shi Le countered: “Though I listen to books, I also have my own understanding. It’s also wonderful.”

Though Shi Le himself disliked studying, he was very strict with his son and children under his jurisdiction, forbidding them from not studying.

He had Zhang Bin tutor his son. Knowing Wei Jie was learned, he specifically went to request he teach the children.

Wei Jie looked at the small child brought before him and was speechless for a long while. After playing with him briefly, he asked: “Governor, can the young master speak yet?”

Shi Le frowned. “He’s two years old and can only say simple words. That’s exactly why I’m asking you to teach him, Shubao. You’re handsome—children like you and will listen to you. They’ll surely learn quickly.”

Wei Jie said: “Wait another three years. For children’s education, they should be at least five years old before beginning.”

Though Shi Le was dissatisfied, everyone persuaded him to relent.

Only two years old—the child was quite pitiful.

Then there were the children of Youzhou.

Youzhou wasn’t the province with the most widespread education, but it definitely had the highest childhood enrollment rate and the most balanced ratio of male to female students.

Shi Le himself found studying difficult but enjoyed listening to people read.

He understood the importance of learning, so he listened to books for an hour daily. Having suffered from lack of education, he was the strongest supporter of Zhao Hanzhang’s widespread school construction and promotion of enrollment.

His fierce reputation preceded him, and his policies were more forceful. He required all age-appropriate boys and girls to attend school. Any parents found obstructing their children’s education would be conscripted for military service.

Parents were terrified. So all children aged seven and above, regardless of gender, were sent to schools to study for at least three years.

No one dared disobey, fearing arrest and imprisonment by this great demon Shi Le.

Therefore, though Youzhou had a small population, its schools operated best. Zhao Hanzhang even allocated additional teachers for this reason.

She knew his methods were somewhat extreme but turned a blind eye and didn’t interfere.

In fact, she wanted to adopt similar measures herself. She consulted with Zhao Cheng, Chen Siniang, and others about legislating education: “All age-appropriate children—seven years and above, fourteen and below, who have never attended school—must all attend for three years, regardless of boys or girls. Those who violate this, their elders must serve three months’ labor until the children enter school.”

Zhao Ming frowned: “Fourteen years old—isn’t that age too high?”

Chen Siniang said: “This subject feels this age is just right, perhaps even a bit young. The education law should also state that all who wish to learn are permitted to enter schools to study for three years, without age or gender restrictions.”

Zhao Hanzhang lightly clapped her hands in approval: “Exactly as it should be.”

Zhao Cheng also nodded. Teaching without discrimination—this educational philosophy was one he also advocated.

Zhao Ming’s brow furrowed tightly. Chang Ning voiced his difficulty for him: “Your Majesty, money.”

Zhao Hanzhang said: “For education, no amount of money spent is wasted.”

Speaking of this, Zhao Hanzhang was quite moved: “Our teachers are all extremely great people.”

During the early period of compulsory education, the beneficiaries were the common people and the nation. The ones who sacrificed most were the frontline teachers.

Due to limited state finances, the salaries the state could give teachers weren’t much.

Thinking of the private property currently being tallied, Zhao Hanzhang gritted her teeth: “From this year forward, regarding my private property—whether workshops, shops, or farmland, excluding commercial caravans—twenty percent of annual profits from everything shall be used for compulsory education.”

Zhao Cheng and Chen Siniang were delighted and immediately said: “Your Majesty is wise and brilliant.”

Only Zhao Ming and Chang Ning looked grave. However, considering education’s importance, they still agreed.

Zhao Hanzhang smiled: “When the people are enlightened, the nation is enlightened, and the future is enlightened. This money—both the nation and I spend it without regret. Chang Ning, don’t be stingy regarding education.”

Chang Ning complied.

Since so much was being invested in education, there must be results, otherwise it would be too wasteful.

Chang Ning had no thoughts favoring men over women. In his view, regardless of gender, anyone who could work could create value, and value would benefit the nation.

Thus he was first to support this punitive education law and provided more specific methods: “If there’s a father, punish the father. Without a father, punish the grandfather. Next punish the mother. After that, punish brothers aged sixteen and above. Anyone obstructing girls’ education shall serve three months’ labor repairing rivers, waterworks, and roads, or perform hard labor in military camps. I believe there won’t be anyone left in the realm obstructing girls’ schooling.”

People rarely prevented boys from studying.

They all knew studying was beneficial, so no matter how difficult circumstances were, they’d let household boys attend school. Yet they’d use excuses like needing labor and lacking manpower to keep girls at home.

Fortunately, this was the Wei-Jin period. The mountains pressing on women weren’t as towering as in later generations. Moreover, with Zhao Hanzhang as emperor and many female officials at court, a trend of valuing women gradually emerged among the people.

This law passed most quickly and was immediately implemented. Soon it was published in newspapers and disseminated through commanderies and counties, making it known throughout the nation.

Even in remote villages, ward chiefs were summoned to county yamens, given stacks of promotional booklets to take back and spread the law.

Ward chiefs wielded considerable authority. They directly summoned adults from every household for specific meetings and study sessions.

When they learned that daughters aged seven to fourteen also had to be sent to schools, or else household adults would have to serve three months’ labor, some were dissatisfied but didn’t dare continue obstructing their daughters’ education.

They asked anxiously: “What if the household girls simply can’t learn or can’t absorb the lessons?”

“They still must be sent to school,” the ward chief said. “Otherwise the yamen will uniformly prosecute.”

Seeing their faces showed reluctance, the ward chief explained: “You all know the court issued no corvée this year. If villages want to organize people to dig irrigation ditches or repair roads themselves, they can. So county roads are quite damaged and waiting for people to fix them.”

“If you violate this, the county yamen would be delighted. Later when county inspectors come down to check, as soon as they discover age-appropriate children not attending school in households, you’ll have to go to the county for labor service. Calculate it yourselves—even starting service in the ninth month means working until the first month next year. If there’s another pause in between, it’ll fall right during farming season, ruining an entire year’s livelihood.”

Everyone shuddered and didn’t dare delay. After returning home to count heads, they pinched their noses and sent the children to county schools.

Schools suddenly saw student numbers roughly triple, with both girls and boys, though girls outnumbered boys several times over.

School teachers were worked to death. Publishing houses in various commanderies and counties also bustled with activity, driving a major boom throughout related industries like paper mills.

Schools naturally couldn’t construct new buildings overnight. So classes originally holding thirty students were crammed with sixty or seventy, squeezing to create space.

But children coming to study were all very quiet and obedient. Most currently had no books, no writing brushes, ink, paper, or inkstones. Teachers taught them how to make sand tables or find suitable stone slabs as character recognition tools.

They first taught the simplest Chinese characters and counting.

Zhao Hanzhang set three years of compulsory education because three years was enough time to recognize most common characters, know simple arithmetic, and understand some basic principles.

The current Hua Kingdom only had this capability. To further extend compulsory education duration, she still had much work to do.

National educational endeavors unfolded vigorously. Soon schools welcomed their first long holiday—autumn harvest break.

This was also the first long holiday Zhao Hanzhang issued after ascending the throne.

Autumn harvest break wasn’t fixed—it fell during each year’s busiest harvest period. Zhao Hanzhang would grant seven consecutive days off.

Not only the several universities under the Imperial Academy, but schools nationwide would have vacation, along with court officials and even local officials.

Zhao Hanzhang hoped every official with farming households would return home for autumn harvest. This way they’d know the year’s harvest situation firsthand and experience both harvest joy and agricultural hardship.

Zhao Hanzhang herself took up a sickle and went to the fields to harvest rice.

This season’s rice was planted later as supplemental crops, so it matured late. Even past the Double Ninth Festival now, after cutting the rice, winter wheat still needed sowing.

Zhao Hanzhang bent at the waist standing in the fields, wearing a large bamboo hat on her head, her hands and feet nimble as she harvested rice. Fu Tinghan, usually dexterous, moved much slower than her.

Zeng Yue and the Imperial Guards surrounded them in circles as they cut inward. Only about ten scattered guards remained on alert along the field ridges.

When Lady Wang arrived unsteadily with attendants, she encountered the smartly dressed Princess Hongnong and Fu Xuan.

She paused in surprise. “Princess?”

Princess Hongnong rarely appeared in public. Perhaps to reduce friction with Zhao Hanzhang and prevent outsiders from over-interpreting their relationship, aside from Prince An and the Prince of Langya’s family, she devoted herself to managing her own enterprises, hardly interacting with court officials and rarely entering the palace.

Lady Wang had lived in the palace for over a month and had only seen her once—at the palace banquet during Zhao Hanzhang’s enthronement.

Princess Hongnong curtsied: “Greetings to the Empress Dowager.”

Lady Wang hastily supported her, quickly asking: “Does the princess have business with Hanzhang? I’ll have someone summon her.”

“No,” Princess Hongnong quickly stopped her. “This palace heard His Majesty was harvesting here, so came to help.”

She had even brought her own sickle.

Fu Xuan stood to the side with a numb expression. They had been married many years, yet even during their most destitute years, she had never entered agricultural fields.

Though Princess Hongnong had never farmed, she understood farming’s importance to a nation and knew even better the demonstrative effect of an emperor setting an example.

Since even Lady Wang had come, she couldn’t not come.

Lady Wang, completely bewildered, brought her to find Zhao Hanzhang. She had only come to deliver food. She hadn’t planned to go down and harvest rice.

These past two days had been like this—her daughter and son-in-law worked in the fields while she sat under tree shade on mats eating, drinking, and appreciating autumn scenery, treating it like an autumn outing.

Though the palace was very large, living there long-term was still stifling. Lady Wang had already conceived the idea of moving out of the palace to live at home, so these days she seized every opportunity to leave the palace with Zhao Hanzhang.

She just wanted to leave the palace—she hadn’t wanted to go down and harvest rice!

She had never in her life held a sickle, though she’d held scissors and kitchen knives.

Secretly glancing at her in-law mother striding forward spiritedly, Lady Wang felt somewhat guilty.

If Fu Xuan knew her thoughts, he would definitely tell her: In-law mother, don’t panic—she’s exactly the same as you.