Over the past few days, Han Yao had come to visit Luoyun several times in succession, making absolutely certain, again and again, that she was staying indoors of her own volition — and not because her brother had confined and forbidden her from leaving the palace.

From Han Yao’s reaction alone, one could gauge just how fiercely the rumors outside were raging. Even Han Yao, who knew the full truth of the matter, had found her heart unsettled.

Those women who were so eager to bear children for the Crown Prince must all be fervently hoping she would hurry up and die.

Some, apparently too impatient to simply wait, had taken it upon themselves to come and see whether she was dead yet.

On this particular day, the Princess Consort of Prince Rui arrived, accompanied by several other ladies, requesting an audience with the Crown Princess.

It turned out that at the palace banquet on the evening of the Mid-Autumn Festival, moon cakes were to be made — and inside each cake, small slips of paper bearing verses composed by talented men and women from the various noble households were to be tucked in, for amusement. This task would ordinarily have been overseen by the Empress, but unfortunately the Zong Empress had recently withdrawn into a Buddhist prayer hall.

The Princess Consort of Prince Rui had long been the presiding head of several poetry societies among the great families of the capital, and so she arrived bearing a collection of transcribed verses, accompanied by the ladies of her circle, requesting that the Crown Princess make the selections for which poems would go into the cakes.

Of course, this was all merely a pretext. What Fang Jinrou truly wanted was to come and see for herself just what sort of state Su Luoyun was actually in.

Luoyun could quite easily have made an excuse to put them off — but she also felt that it was time to give the rumor-mongers something to quiet their tongues. So after looking over their calling cards, she agreed readily and received them in the sitting room of the Eastern Palace.

In the past, every time Luoyun had encountered Fang Jinrou, it had been she who was obliged to bow in greeting.

This was also the first time the two women had met privately since Luoyun had become Crown Princess.

Only now it was Fang Jinrou who was compelled to sink to her knees before Su Luoyun and offer her formal salutation. As she knelt, Fang Jinrou’s expression was far from composed — her face was suffused with the desolate anguish of someone watching a kingdom crumble.

Luoyun remained gracious and poised as ever, bidding the Princess Consort of Prince Rui to rise, instructing her attendants to offer seating, and asking with a pleasant smile whether the Young Lord of Prince Rui was keeping well.

Fang Jinrou had fully expected to find a wan, sickly-looking woman — someone browbeaten and weary from being kept under a kind of house arrest.

Instead, Su Luoyun looked entirely at ease, and if anything, appeared even lovelier and more radiant than she had been back in Maoling County.

Fang Jinrou was convinced that Su Luoyun had opened by asking after her son quite deliberately.

Ever since that day when Fang Jinrou had deliberately failed to catch her swaddled infant before he fell into the garden pond, the Duke and Duchess of Lu had been so frightened of another incident that they had kept her well away from the child entirely.

The infant himself seemed to have some awareness of the situation — sensing that his own mother bore him no warmth. Combined with the fact that he was raised day-to-day by a wet nurse, he had never become attached to Fang Jinrou in the slightest, and would burst into loud wailing cries every time he caught sight of her.

The Duke of Lu had weighed the matter carefully, fearing that some accident might befall the young heir while under his roof, and had ultimately gone to the Emperor Above to explain the situation — requesting that the child be adopted into the name of a Han imperial kinsman and placed in his care.

The Emperor Above had understood immediately upon hearing it. This was a widowed daughter-in-law who resented having a burden to carry, and was looking to shed it. Since Fang Jinrou had no intention of honoring her widowhood after Prince Rui’s death and planned to remarry, the Duke of Lu, thinking as a father for his daughter’s sake, had decided that one fewer encumbrance could only be for the better. So the Emperor Above had merely waved a hand and let them do as they wished.

Luoyun had actually known nothing of this, and had asked only out of casual courtesy — she could not have known she had struck directly at Fang Jinrou’s most vulnerable point.

Convinced that Su Luoyun was mocking her, Fang Jinrou nonetheless kept her spine straight and her gaze lowered, saying: “My father took pity on the young heir for having no father, and has reported to the Emperor Above that the child has been adopted into the household of the Imperial Uncle, Prince Yunxiao. He has long since been removed from my care. Is the Crown Princess asking because you fault me for having failed in my duties as a mother?”

Luoyun observed that the Princess Consort of Prince Rui’s characteristic sharpness had not diminished in the slightest, and gave a faint smile. “I genuinely did not know of this. Since it was arranged by the Emperor Above, it is naturally what is best for the young heir. This is the Princess Consort’s family matter — who else has any standing to pass judgment? So long as your own conscience is at ease, that is all that matters.”

Out of respect for the Emperor Above, figures such as the widow of Prince Rui were to be treated as honored deities — maintained with reverence to demonstrate the Emperor’s attentive care for the line of the Emperor Above. But while deities were all well and good when kept in their shrines to receive the offerings of incense and fruit, if they chose to descend from the heavens and cause trouble among mortals, Luoyun had absolutely no intention of indulging them.

Recalling that in recent times, no matter what banquet Han Linfeng attended, he invariably seemed to cross paths with this particular Princess Consort — and now hearing that the Princess Consort had sent away her infant son while her husband’s body was barely cold — Luoyun understood perfectly what the Princess Consort of Prince Rui was scheming at. She had no intention of entertaining her any further than necessary.

Luoyun glanced through the verses the women had presented, selected a handful that spoke of family reunion and festive celebration, and then said: “I have not been feeling well of late and am growing rather tired. If there is nothing further, please feel free to take your leave.”

But Fang Jinrou had come today precisely because she had certain things she wished to say to Su Luoyun. So when the other ladies, reading the situation, rose and made their courteous farewells, Fang Jinrou alone remained behind, indicating that she had a few more words for the Crown Princess.

Luoyun slowly took a sip of tea and regarded Fang Jinrou, who had abruptly sunk to her knees. “Princess Consort, speak civilly — why have you suddenly knelt?”

The Princess Consort of Prince Rui knelt with her back perfectly straight, wearing the expression of someone who had resolved to stake everything on a single throw. “I know full well that I greatly offended you in the past. However, you are magnanimous by nature — since you could receive the Duchess of Junguogong with a pleasant face, I am certain you can forgive my own earlier lack of judgment.”

Luoyun regarded her quietly and said nothing.

Fang Jinrou pressed on: “You have not appeared in public for so many days now — you must surely have come to appreciate just how difficult it is to hold the position of Crown Princess. The Crown Prince is supporting His Majesty, who has only just ascended the throne — and that requires the full backing of the great noble families. Yet this father and son had no meaningful ties with the major families before any of this came to pass, and are urgently in need of marriage alliances. His Majesty’s situation is somewhat better — the inner palace has been filled with women from the noble families. But the Crown Prince’s household does not so much as have a single concubine. He labors tirelessly for the state — how can he lack people to attend to his daily comfort? If the Crown Princess would be willing to forgive me, I am prepared to enter the household in the capacity of a serving concubine and attend to both of you. I would also see to it that my father, as the head of the Fang family, lends the Crown Prince his wholehearted support. I ask only that the Crown Princess consider the greater good and think of the Crown Prince’s interests. I will be filled with gratitude, and will do everything in my power to uphold your standing as Crown Princess — so that no latecomer may ever surpass you.”

Surely this woman of merchant stock could not imagine that Han Linfeng would go on as he had in Liangzhou — with not a single concubine in the household? By coming forward to offer herself so proactively, she was, in her own estimation, doing Su Luoyun a service — helping her secure the Crown Prince’s unwavering favor.

As long as this merchant’s daughter was capable of calculation, she ought to understand that she currently stood alone and without backing — and that with the support of the Fang family, her days within the Eastern Palace would be considerably smoother.

Luoyun had always known that Fang Jinrou was unrestrained in her conduct, but she had not expected her to be so utterly brazen — capable of actually speaking the words “serving concubine and maidservant” aloud.

Still, she understood the second Fang daughter’s little scheme perfectly well. Fang Jinrou was the legitimate daughter of the Fang family — and even though she had been married once before, the man she had married was a proper imperial prince. A twice-wed noblewoman of her standing was not like a village widow stooping to a lesser match upon remarriage.

In dynasties past, emperors taking widowed noblewomen into the palace as consorts had been commonplace.

Whatever words Fang Jinrou might speak about becoming a concubine, if Han Linfeng were to actually do such a thing, it would constitute an insult to the departed Ninth Prince — the equivalent of throwing the Emperor Above’s face to the ground and treading on it. It would leave behind a permanent stain of contempt for others to point at.

So when Luoyun heard what Fang Jinrou had to say, she smiled again, and said mildly: “It is rather touching that the Princess Consort of Prince Rui, not even a year into mourning her husband’s violent death, should be exerting herself so strenuously on behalf of the current Crown Prince’s future.”

When a husband has died, even as a matter of appearances alone, a wife ought to observe at least a year’s mourning before any talk of remarriage. Under most circumstances, any other woman would have burned with shame and humiliation at the Crown Princess’s pointed words.

But Fang Jinrou had never been like most people. Hearing this, she kept her chin raised and said coldly: “The person is gone. If the Ninth Prince in the afterlife were to know that I had come under the care and protection of the Crown Prince, he would smile contentedly even in his grave.”

Luoyun reached for another calming sip of tea, otherwise she might well have expected to see the Ninth Prince’s coffin lid rattling.

After that sip, Luoyun decided there was little point in continuing this conversation with a madwoman, and said simply: “You are the widow of Prince Rui. Even if there truly were some prior history between you and the Crown Prince, he would not take you in. If you have no other business, I will ask you to leave.”

“If you were willing to help me, he would naturally take me!” Fang Jinrou countered, refusing to yield a single inch.

Luoyun was almost moved to laughter by the sheer audacity of it. “And how exactly would I help?”

Fang Jinrou replied with perfect composure: “As long as the Crown Princess is willing to agree to let me come to the Eastern Palace regularly, I will have my own way of managing things.”

She had not even finished her sentence before Su Luoyun’s cup of tea had been flung directly into her face. The Crown Princess’s expression turned abruptly cold. “I have shown you forbearance out of respect for your status as Prince Rui’s widow — I have held my tongue once too many times and given you face — and yet you do not know when to stop pushing. Did you mistake my patience for weakness? And just what methods do you have in mind? A chance encounter in the garden, a meaningful exchange of glances? Or perhaps stripping off your outer robe and walking into the Crown Prince’s study? Do not speak to me about the Crown Prince pining after you — if he had ever harbored any such feelings, he would have married you all those years ago, not me.”

Fang Jinrou had never in her life had tea thrown in her face — let alone by a woman whose birth and family standing were beneath her own.

The second Fang daughter’s eyes blazed wide with fury. “You dare treat me this way simply because you are the Crown Princess?”

Luoyun decided she had said quite enough to this madwoman for one day. Seeing that this second Fang daughter was still living inside her own delusion, she resolved to lay every card on the table once and for all. “That is precisely right. My husband threw himself into the jaws of death on the battlefield so that I could stand upright and speak plainly on the strength of his authority. Did you perhaps imagine that it is you who ought to be the Crown Princess, and that I should be watching your face for cues on how to conduct myself?”

Fang Jinrou wiped her dripping face and said furiously: “Even His Majesty grants me every courtesy and consideration. You do not fear that I will go and report this to His Majesty?”

Su Luoyun said in a cold, clear voice: “What His Majesty honors is the widow of the Ninth Prince — the daughter-in-law of the Emperor Above. Not a shameless woman who shipped off her own child while her husband’s body was not yet cold, and then schemed to become another man’s concubine. Fang Jinrou — wake yourself up. The capital you knew has long since changed beyond recognition.”

She was going to use her imperial father-in-law to threaten her? The sheer preposterousness of it was almost laughable.

What manner of sins had the Duke and Duchess of Lu committed, to have raised a daughter so thoroughly consumed by selfishness?

At this point, Su Luoyun turned her head toward the decorative screen standing nearby and asked: “Has everything I have said with the widowed Princess Consort been recorded?”

From behind the screen came the voice of an elderly man: “In reply to the Crown Princess — every word has been set down in the record.”

Fang Jinrou started, looking over with sudden suspicion. “Why is there a man behind that screen?”

At that moment, two palace maids stepped forward and moved the screen aside. Behind it, seated at a small writing table, were two court historians — officials whose designated duty was to record the daily conduct and conversations of the Emperor and the imperial princes.

Their daily task was precisely this: to document the words and actions of the sovereign and his sons, to be eventually incorporated into the imperial chronicle and preserved for generations to come.

Though Han Linfeng had not yet ascended the throne, as Crown Prince he too fell within the scope of these historians’ records — to serve as supplementary documentation once the Crown Prince became Emperor in the future.

It had never occurred to Fang Jinrou that Su Luoyun had arranged to have these historians seated behind the screen well in advance, and that every word she had spoken had been faithfully committed to the official record.

“Why did you do this? It was nothing more than a private conversation between myself and you — and yet you deliberately had irrelevant parties write it all down. What is it you are trying to do?” Fang Jinrou demanded, her voice rising with urgency.

Su Luoyun replied: “Did you not say you intended to go and lodge a complaint with His Majesty, telling him I had shown you disrespect? I thought to myself that if someone had made a thorough and faithful record of every word the Princess Consort spoke, it would save you a great deal of trouble — you would not need to exhaust yourself recounting it all over again before His Majesty.”

At this, Fang Jinrou’s complexion became even more ghastly. She knew too well how improper her earlier words had been — and moreover, how unmistakably they had carried the undercurrent of coercion.

At the root of it, she had simply looked down on Su Luoyun — had assumed that a woman of merchant and common birth, suddenly thrust into the Eastern Palace, must be feeling entirely unmoored and desperate, scrambling to curry favor with the noble families and shore up her position. She had believed that coming forward so proactively, offering to help secure the Crown Prince’s favor, was doing the woman a kindness that Su Luoyun ought to have known to be grateful for.

But she could never have anticipated this. Su Luoyun had outmaneuvered her so completely. The words she had spoken just now were fine enough in private — but how could they ever be brought before the court, or pass under the Emperor’s own eyes?

In an instant Fang Jinrou understood that Su Luoyun had seized an absolute hold over her. She could only clench her teeth and sink to her knees in supplication. “I beg the Crown Princess to be magnanimous and not trouble yourself over matters with me. Every word I said just now was wrong. I will never speak of such things again.”

Su Luoyun did not waste another word. She simply rose and swept from the room.

The written record, she naturally had no intention of presenting to His Majesty. At the moment, the Emperor needed to maintain a careful balance with the great families — there was nothing he could have acted on even if she had.

But she would send it, exactly as it was, to the Duke of Lu’s residence, and let him see for himself just what kind of face his daughter was losing for the family out in the world. As for how to educate his daughter — that was the Duke and Duchess of Lu’s affair.

When the Duke of Lu read it, and discovered that Fang Jinrou had gone of her own accord to the Eastern Palace to pick a fight with the Crown Princess herself, he was so furious he very nearly lost three of his seven souls on the spot.

By all accounts, on that day the Duke of Lu had brought out the family rod and subjected his daughter to a thorough thrashing.

But seeing how urgently Fang Jinrou had come charging in to make trouble, Su Luoyun also understood that it was time she appeared in public again. Otherwise the rumors would only multiply and run wild without restraint.

And so it was that on the evening of the Mid-Autumn Palace Banquet, the Crown Princess — who had been absent from public view for so long — finally made her appearance before the assembled court.

For a banquet of such grandeur, even Luoyun, who cared little for elaborate finery, had no choice but to dress with care and deliberation.

She did not, however, select anything too vivid or ornate. She chose instead a long gown in a pale, moonlit white that gave off a soft, cool luminescence beneath the glow of the palace lanterns, layered over an outer robe of celadon-blue Shu brocade. Her hair was swept into a formal arrangement crowned with an elaborate hairpiece. The effect was one of dignified, unhurried elegance — the skin of her exposed neck and cheeks glowing as clear and bright as moonlight.

When the tall and commanding Crown Prince, dressed in a long robe of smoke-gray silk, walked in beneath the light of the palace lanterns hand in hand with the Crown Princess, they made a pair so perfectly matched that it seemed as though Heaven itself had shaped them for each other, as though a divine artisan had crafted this couple with the utmost care.

The officials and their wives throughout the banquet hall looked over one after another, struck speechless with admiration, their hearts silently conceding: if one were to set aside the matter of her birth — on the strength of appearance alone, this Crown Princess was a beauty without equal.

Fang Jinrou had also come to the palace for the banquet, seated beside her mother.

She had been fairly inclined to believe the rumors circulating in the capital about the Crown Princess falling ill. But after her visit to the Eastern Palace that day — watching Su Luoyun looking vivid and full of energy, and possessed of the presence of mind to set a trap for her — Fang Jinrou had come away with a seed of doubt, unable quite to fathom Han Linfeng’s intentions.

Han Linfeng’s ambitions reached high, and he was absolutely not the sort of man to be led about by a beautiful face. He had acquiesced to the imperial decree back then and married a blind woman who was no match for his station. Even if those early days of marriage had been full of warmth and tenderness, surely by now he ought to have grown weary of her.

What was more, as Crown Prince, how could a wife with her origins in selling fragrant goods possibly be a fitting match? And so if Su Luoyun were to quietly “die of illness” at some point, it ought to be a development that suited everyone. Why, then, was Han Linfeng still keeping her around?

Then again, if Han Linfeng was holding back out of sentiment for his first wife and could not yet bring himself to dismiss her — that was of no great consequence.

In the Great Wei, there had never been any particular custom forbidding women from remarrying. A woman of her noble house, even one who had been married before and borne a child, could still make an excellent match. If Han Linfeng took issue with the fact that she was no longer a maiden, she could bring herself to accept a lesser position — entering the Eastern Palace as a secondary consort. Even if Han Linfeng resented the obstacles her family had once placed in their way, he could not afford to ignore the weight of the Fang family’s influence.

Whenever a new emperor ascended the throne, he inevitably needed to draw several of the great families to his side before his footing was secure. Without that support, the former sovereign known as the Sage Virtue Emperor — who had lost his throne — stood as a ready cautionary example.

Moreover, Su Luoyun had still not shown any signs of pregnancy after all this time. Even if she did not conveniently “die of illness,” it would be difficult to block the entry of a secondary consort into the palace. So as Fang Jinrou saw it, the obstacles standing between herself and Han Linfeng were actually somewhat fewer now than they had been when the two of them were both unmarried.

At the very least, her own parents, as well as his father the Emperor and his mother the Empress, would surely welcome such a development.

She simply needed to find an opportunity to have a proper conversation with Han Linfeng — to unravel the misunderstanding from all those years ago. And so from the moment the palace banquet commenced, Fang Jinrou’s gaze followed Han Linfeng’s every movement, never shifting away.

Since the Princess Consort of Prince Rui was the widowed consort of the departed Ninth Prince, the Emperor — wishing to demonstrate his filial respect toward the Emperor Above — treated both the Ninth Prince’s widow and the Fang family with considerable generosity.

At this Mid-Autumn family banquet among the imperial clan, Fang Jinrou had been given a seat relatively close to the front. And so her unabashedly fixed stare at Han Linfeng was perfectly visible to everyone around her. Naturally, all eyes inevitably drifted toward the Crown Princess seated beside the Emperor and Empress.

With those openly brazen eyes of hers on full display, the Crown Princess — unless she had suddenly gone blind — could not have failed to notice.

This caused the Duke of Lu to seethe with fresh resentment in his heart, furious at his wife for not heeding his words and allowing their daughter to drag them both out here to make a spectacle.

The Crown Prince himself, however, did not appear to have so much as glanced in Fang Jinrou’s direction even once. His entire attention was occupied in selecting dishes for the Crown Princess.

The Crown Princess, for her part, did not seem to have much of an appetite. Noticing that the Crown Prince was attending to her plate with excessive enthusiasm, she quietly turned a reproachful gaze at him.

Han Linfeng registered the look without any sign of displeasure, simply leaned his head closer and murmured something in Su Luoyun’s ear — the words drawing a small, unbidden smile to her lips, her face brightening like a peach blossom in bloom, her teeth a flash of white.

A ripple of uncertainty moved through the hall. Observing the two of them together like this, it did not in the least look as though the Crown Prince was deliberately neglecting the Crown Princess.

But then — had Han Linfeng’s years of reckless dissolution in the capital not deceived the entire world?

It was evident that this deeply calculating man was exceptionally skilled at playing whatever role the moment required. If he wished to perform the part of a devoted husband before an audience, to avoid unfavorable gossip, that would surely be no great challenge for him.

At that very moment, the Emperor rose to his feet and lifted his cup, declaring in a resonant voice: “On this auspicious occasion of the Mid-Autumn Festival, as We gaze upon the moon and make merry together with Our honored ministers, We have also a joyful matter to share with all assembled. A happy tidings has come from the Eastern Palace of the Crown Prince — the Crown Princess is with child, the pregnancy stable and the signs auspicious. Let this be proclaimed to all under Heaven!”

Su Luoyun’s pregnancy had been progressing steadily of late. Being slender, she was not yet showing — but the time for it to become evident was not far off. As Crown Princess, once such joyful news existed, it had to be made public at an appropriate moment — otherwise if a child suddenly appeared without any prior announcement, it would invite all manner of suspicious speculation about the child’s origins.

When the news of the Crown Princess’s pregnancy was announced, however, Fang Jinrou’s face turned the color of iron. She very nearly crushed the porcelain cup in her hand.

Those noble daughters who had been privately speculating that the Crown Princess might conveniently suffer a sudden death found their expressions turning decidedly strange — if the Crown Prince truly harbored no feelings for this Crown Princess, and had his heart set on removing her, how could he possibly have allowed her to conceive, and then made the news public before the entire court?

And moreover, watching the Crown Prince and his common-born Crown Princess exchange words and smiles, the picture was entirely that of an affectionate and devoted couple — there was not the faintest trace of disdain on the Crown Prince’s part toward her at all.

Upon hearing His Majesty’s announcement, the assembled ministers naturally offered their congratulations with great warmth.

After the banquet, however, certain individuals privately approached the Emperor, suggesting that since the Crown Princess was with child, the Crown Prince was surely lacking for attendants — and they would be happy to offer their daughters to enter the Eastern Palace and wait upon the Crown Prince.

The Emperor deflected this inconvenient proposition directly to his son: “This son of mine has always had ideas of his own. His household matters are not something We care to involve Ourselves in. If you have such generous intentions, you may as well go ask him directly.”

Han Yi was no fool. He could see perfectly well just how thoroughly his son had indulged his daughter-in-law. Why should he needlessly stir up trouble between a husband and wife?

Moreover, what sort of women were these who were being offered? In terms of character or intelligence, none of them came anywhere close to his daughter-in-law. Would his exacting son, with his impossibly high standards, even give them a second glance?

With the Crown Princess currently carrying a child, he had absolutely no wish to appease these worthless noble families at the cost of unsettling his son’s household, and thereby endangering the safe delivery of his own firstborn grandchild.

As it turned out, there were indeed people bold enough to actually go and raise the matter with Han Linfeng, saying that since the Crown Princess was with child, there was likely no one to properly attend to the Crown Prince — and they wished to present him with some agreeable companions.

Han Linfeng gave them not the slightest shred of face. He fixed his gaze on the person who had come to ask, drew out his words slowly, and said: “Do I look like a creature so consumed by carnal appetite that he cannot eat or sleep without a woman beside him every night?”

Well… the Han Linfeng of his former dissolute days in the capital had, in point of fact, been precisely that sort of person.

But of course no one dared to say so to his face. They could only keep their smiles fixed in place and continue offering the most elaborate flattery about the Crown Prince’s upright character, his tireless devotion to the welfare of the people, and his great concern for the welfare of the realm.

Han Linfeng then added: “Since that is the case, I will ask you to return home. The treasury is currently depleted, and the worry of it leaves me sleepless day and night. Even His Majesty has remarked that there are already far too many consorts in the inner palace — a needless drain on expenditures — so why would it be appropriate to add yet more people to the palace? What you are offering is not a thoughtful companion. You are proposing to increase the Eastern Palace’s operating costs. Incidentally — how much did your household submit in land taxes this year? Are there any discrepancies in the accounts?”

After a few such encounters, no one troubled the Crown Prince on that matter again.

For very quickly, Han Linfeng had kept these old ministers so preoccupied that they had not a moment’s energy left to think about placing anyone in his household.

The fertile farmlands of the Great Wei had been steadily encroached upon and absorbed by the great families for generations. Yet the land taxes they submitted bore no relation whatsoever to the size of the holdings registered in their names — and certain families of meritorious distinction had even obtained full exemptions from land taxes altogether.

These same great families invariably found one pretext or another to keep expanding their landholdings without limit. And so the common farmers, who labored hard and paid their taxes faithfully, saw the farmland registered in their own names grow ever smaller and fewer — while the great families, having expanded their estates considerably, contributed not a single additional coin to the imperial treasury.

This was the fundamental source of the Great Wei’s persistent inability to sustain its finances.

The late Sage Virtue Emperor had also identified this flaw, and had wished to implement a land equalization policy to curb the unchecked expansion of the great families. But the effort had barely begun before war broke out at the frontier — and having been abandoned by the great families, he had allowed his own imperial uncle to stage a successful usurpation.

Now, after consulting with his father the Emperor at length, Han Linfeng was prepared to take another run at this formidable obstacle.

But with the Sage Virtue Emperor’s precedent fresh in mind, the matter had to be handled with extreme caution and deliberation.

And so for these past several days, Han Linfeng had been convening behind closed doors with Li Guitian and other ministers, engaged in intensive discussions on the reform of the land tax system.

When the Emperor finally announced the new land equalization policy, the measures — though considerably more moderate than those of the Sage Virtue Emperor’s era — still sent a tremor through the entire court.

The Emperor announced that commoners who owned no land or very little land would be permitted to cultivate unclaimed wasteland, and to register it under their name at the local prefecture and county offices in exchange for an official land deed. However, prosperous farming households that already held ten or more acres of good farmland would, if they sought to bring additional wasteland under their own name, be required to pay a land tax substantially higher than before. Furthermore, from this point forward — regardless of whether one was a noble family or a commoner, and regardless of whether land was newly acquired through cultivation or through purchase — any newly registered land would be subject to taxation, and no meritorious service could be cited as grounds for exemption from the land levy.