◎ Debating Policy ◎

Dusk was the busiest hour along Bian River Street.

Vendors preparing for the night market and shopkeepers along the river hung their lanterns early. Guard boats patrolled the water, and wherever they passed, candlelight gradually flickered on, painting a scene of lively prosperity.

Since her marriage, Ye Liuchun rarely went out to eat with Bai Shating; the two of them were far too well known along Bian River Street, and constantly had to deal with old acquaintances, which grew exhausting. Today, having finally managed to avoid anyone familiar, they had reserved a private room on the third floor of Fanlou.

The room was named “Painting Eyebrows’ Joy.”

Ye Liuchun glanced up, fanned herself with her round fan, and turned back with a wry smile. “Actually… you don’t need to try so hard to please me.”

Bai Shating feigned confusion. “This humble one doesn’t understand what my lady means—please, after you.”

Ye Liuchun stepped inside, pushed open the flower-latticed window, and sat by it, smiling faintly. “Thirteenth Young Master has so many female admirers along this street—shall we call one or two to join us today?”

Bai Shating hurried over and took her fan from her, meaning to explain himself, but the words that came out took an unexpected turn. “I… intend to resign my post.”

Ye Liuchun’s hand stiffened.

After a pause, she spoke. “Ascending to the chancellorship has always been the dream of every man under heaven. You spent years in the capital, worked yourself to exhaustion through the examinations to earn your post—you’re trusted by the Emperor himself, and count the chief ministers among your friends. Why give it up?”

Before Bai Shating could answer, she went on at once. “Your tarnished reputation in official circles comes from nothing but your old dissolute poetry and taking me as your wife…”

“Marrying you, though, is the most important thing I’ve ever done,” Bai Shating cut in, speaking earnestly. “In my reckless youth, how could I have known the worth of true feeling… Never mind, I won’t wax sentimental. I simply feel I’m not suited for office—it has nothing to do with anyone else.”

He sat down beside her. “My temperament is too free-spirited. I enjoy company, but I can’t bring myself to flatter or fawn, nor can I devote myself selflessly to the people the way Zhou and Su can. My trip to the Southlands taught me a great deal—if a man truly wants to serve his country, holding office isn’t the only path… Why not come west or south with me, find a place to open an academy, live like drifting clouds and wild cranes? Wouldn’t that suit us better? Besides, the court is tense these days—His Majesty’s promoting me beyond my rank has already stirred up trouble, and even implicated Xiaobai. If I resign and travel far away, it’ll give them all a chance to breathe easier.”

Ye Liuchun was silent for a moment, then suddenly laughed. “So Physician Bo must have gone drinking with you yesterday and said something that struck a chord. You’ve never been one to think of such things on your own before.”

Bai Shating fanned her with the round fan. “I know you’ve always wanted to visit the great mountains and rivers. I want you to be happy too.”

Ye Liuchun turned her head away, a faint smile lingering on her lips, about to speak—but her expression suddenly froze. Bai Shating followed her gaze and saw that a large crowd of people had gathered, seemingly out of nowhere, on the bridge spanning the middle of the Bian River.

Someone stood on the high railing of the Twelve Bridges, a booklet in one hand, a short knife in the other, swaying slightly. The onlookers below let out gasps of alarm.

“Hey now, we’re living in peaceful times—don’t do anything rash…”

“Whatever’s wrong, come down and tell us. We can help you think it through.”

“…”

The man, by his dress, appeared to be a merchant—coarse cloth robes, a haggard face. He crouched on the bridge post, wailing loudly, and shook open the booklet in his hand.

“Everyone gathered here… I’ve made my living in this capital all my life. I had an aging mother and a wife at home, and lived a peaceful life…”

His voice suddenly turned shrill. “Who could have known some official in this court would push through some ‘new policy,’ some new law—tricking my wife into using it to demand a divorce from me! When the divorce failed, she murdered my own mother!”

A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd.

The man went on. “I brought that vicious woman before the court with a written complaint, and yet the magistrate, citing this new law, refused to sentence her to death! Heaven and earth, where is justice left in this world…”

Ye Liuchun looked away and glanced at Bai Shating.

Bai Shating muttered to himself. “This is bad…”

When Shen Luo entered, Su Chaoci rose from his seat in the main hall to greet him. “Huai’an, you’ve come at just the right time.”

He returned the bow, then noticed a familiar face seated across the room. Before he could ask, Su Chaoci gestured and made the introduction. “This is Qu Xiangwen of the Ministry of Revenue, Young Master Qu.”

Qu Xiangwen bowed. “Master Shen, an honor.”

Shen Luo gave a light snort, seeming to recall who he was. “Aren’t you the in-law of Grand Chancellor Zhou?”

“With respect, Master Shen, that’s not quite accurate,” Qu Xiangwen replied, neither servile nor defiant. “I studied at Chunshan Academy and ranked twelfth in the first tier on the palace examination list. I’ve served two years in the Ministry of Revenue with the Chancellor posted elsewhere; our personal ties are not close. To me, my brother-in-law and the Chancellor are, in truth, hardly the same person.”

Shen Luo’s expression eased somewhat. He sat and drank the tea beside him. “You’re certainly clear-headed about it—unlike that Zhou Tan, who couldn’t wait to promote his own wife’s family the moment he returned to the capital, simply…”

He didn’t finish, because he’d only just noticed someone else seated behind Su Chaoci, watching him with a faint smile.

Shen Luo nearly spat out his tea. “Elder Luo…”

“Xiangwen, sit. Chaoci, sit as well,” Luo Jinglun waved a hand dismissively. “Huai’an, you’ve been quite the presence at the Censorate lately—speaking bluntly before the throne. This old man admires you greatly…”

“Speaking frankly to the sovereign is simply the Censorate’s duty,” Shen Luo said, bowing. “Elder Luo flatters me.”

“I came to visit Chaoci today, and didn’t expect to run into the two of you here—how fortunate. As it happens, I wanted to hear your thoughts as well.” Luo Jinglun nodded, smiling. “I remember, Huai’an, after your palace examination, we met at the Qionglin banquet. You spoke so passionately then, full of grand ambitions, saying you wanted to enact new policy, to restore proper order to the court, and said…”

“Elder Luo remembers well,” Shen Luo said hastily. “I was young and reckless then, speaking carelessly. It needn’t be taken seriously.”

“That’s not quite right—isn’t the very reason we’ve all gathered here today to discuss the new policy once more?”

Luo Jinglun glanced at Su Chaoci, but instead of responding, Su Chaoci simply set down his teacup gently and said, “Wait a moment, Elder Luo. I’ve invited one more person today.”

Just as Shen Luo opened his mouth to ask who, Zhou Tan walked in through the door, hands clasped behind his back.

Qu Xiangwen rose at once and bowed properly. “Master Zhou.”

Shen Luo was inwardly startled, but knew propriety could not be abandoned, and rose as well, though his tone carried a subtle edge. “Master Zhou, what brings you here today?”

The falling-out between Zhou and Su was common knowledge throughout the court; no one had expected Zhou Tan would personally come to Su Chaoci’s door.

Zhou Tan gestured for them to sit, first greeting Luo Jinglun at the head of the room, then casually taking a chair. The moment he sat down, a servant respectfully closed the door.

Only then did Shen Luo notice that Su Chaoci had set out exactly five chairs in the hall—clearly prepared in advance.

Luo Jinglun smiled. “Xiaobai has come too.”

Zhou Tan said flatly, “Elder Luo, I trust you’re well.”

His gaze swept across the room, and he continued, “His Majesty and I are pushing forward the new law at a critical juncture. I too wanted to hear what everyone here thinks, to keep myself alert… And it seems I arrived at just the right moment—I happened to hear Elder Luo mention that Huai’an once harbored such lofty ambitions for serving the nation. Surely now is exactly the opportunity to put them into practice.”

Luo Jinglun added, “Xiaobai may not know this, but when you were in Ruozhou, abolishing the Tanghua Decree and enacting new laws, reforming the tax system, nurturing the people, changing the military system—Huai’an followed it all with great interest. At a banquet once, he spoke to me about it enthusiastically.”

Zhou Tan looked somewhat surprised. “Oh?”

Shen Luo felt his face grow hot with a hint of embarrassment. “Elder Luo has quite the memory.”

He cleared his throat and adopted a formal, serious tone. “Master Zhou, though your personal conduct leaves something to be desired—favoring your own relations in court appointments, currying favor with flattering words—those regulations you drafted two years ago in Ruozhou were, admittedly, extraordinary.”

Su Chaoci laughed too. “I hadn’t realized Huai’an took such an interest in this precedent… but as I recall, when the new law was recently promulgated, you were at the forefront of opposing it. The two things don’t quite add up—I confess I’m rather confused.”

Shen Luo, uncharacteristically, fell silent.

After a moment he rose and bowed to Zhou Tan. Zhou Tan stood and returned the bow, then heard him speak seriously. “May I ask the Chancellor—when drafting the new law, had you truly weighed its consequences?”

Zhou Tan’s brow shifted slightly. “That’s a dull question, Huai’an. Of course there was careful deliberation in drafting a new law. Since I’ve come today, I’d also like to ask you something in turn—you led the opposition against it. Do you truly believe the law shouldn’t be changed at all?”

“Of course it should be changed.” Shen Luo answered without hesitation.

“Changed how, and where?”

“Corrupt practices at every level, reform of official conduct, land and tax law, outdated military systems—sweep away the lingering vices of the old dynasty and redraft the laws of Great Yin to suit the times.”

“Well said,” Zhou Tan said, clapping lightly. “Now that the new law has just been established, everything follows exactly what you’ve described—the Council of State holding the middle ground to quell the resentment of the old nobility, while His Majesty and I press forward the reform with strict enforcement and oversight. Given all this, why did you submit a memorial opposing it?”

“The Chancellor placed first in all three examinations, the foremost disciple under Chancellor Gu’s tutelage, capable of drafting such laws with the talent of a generation, and willing to enforce them with iron resolve—admirable, truly remarkable. And yet I must ask what the Chancellor was truly thinking—I don’t believe for a moment you’re unaware of this—how can such a law possibly be pushed through with such haste?”

Everyone in the hall listened with great interest. Shen Luo caught his breath, his tone growing sharper still. “Huai’an knows well enough that as a newly appointed Chancellor, you naturally wish to make your mark. Though every reformer throughout history has met a tragic end, they’re remembered in the annals nonetheless. But could it be that in your eagerness to carve your name into history, you’ve disregarded the current state of the court and the situation in all directions? Xishao has only just been pacified, and remains unstable; the Southland is not yet settled, the great clans remain unconvinced; His Majesty is young, and factions run rampant throughout court. Given all this, to compound it further with such a strict law…”

He grew more agitated as he spoke. “I truly don’t understand, Chancellor—you’re still so young. Can you not wait out these critical few years? Wait until factional strife subsides, until the borders are secured, until His Majesty’s authority has grown and the realm’s hearts are truly won over?”

Zhou Tan looked down at him, eyes lowered, and to his surprise didn’t refute him directly, only offering a mild mockery. “Wait? How long should we wait? Ten years? Twenty? When will the Xishao finally stop daring to invade, when will factional strife finally settle on its own, without decisive action—just waiting? Can Great Yin afford to wait? Can you and I afford to wait? Indecision, endless hesitation—when would that ever come to an end… It seems you and I simply walk different paths, Huai’an. Very well—submit as many memorials as you like, even rally the entire Censorate against me…”

He gave a soft laugh. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Does the Chancellor still think my righteous indignation today is merely personal dissatisfaction with you? Fine, fine…”

Shen Luo, thoroughly provoked, stormed off in a fury, flinging his sleeves, forgetting even to bow to Luo Jinglun on his way out.

Luo Jinglun glanced at Zhou Tan, his tone teasing. “Xiaobai clearly knows Huai’an’s temperament well. Why provoke him so deliberately?”

Zhou Tan sipped his tea, utterly composed. “I don’t know what Elder Luo means.”

Luo Jinglun narrowed his eyes and rose as well. “I’m getting old—sitting too long makes me want to get up and stretch my old bones. No need to see me out, Chaoci—”

He took a couple of steps, then suddenly paused. “Xiaobai, your teacher was an old friend of mine. For his sake, this old man offers you one word of caution—the path you walk is like standing at the edge of a cliff on a snowy night, or facing into the wind toward a flame. Stubbornness isn’t always a virtue.”

Zhou Tan didn’t even lift his eyes, saying calmly, “Safe travels, Elder Luo.”

Only Qu Xiangwen remained in the hall. He rose and bowed, hesitating a long moment before finally speaking. “Since the Chancellor is here, this humble official happens to have a question as well.”

Zhou Tan replied evenly, without any particular warmth. “Go on, then.”

Qu Xiangwen said softly, “I was born too late to witness the eloquence you and the late Chancellor once displayed debating policy before the court. Having seen it today, it truly lives up to its reputation… Listening to everyone’s discussion, a thought suddenly occurred to me. Governing a state, enacting reform—it’s much like a physician prescribing medicine for an illness, treating the symptom to achieve a cure. If the illness is severe, gradual treatment won’t suffice; one must resort to fierce medicine, wagering everything against fate itself. This much is entirely reasonable. Only…”

“A nation does not belong to any single person, nor solely to the court, nor is it the Emperor’s private possession. Under heaven, every single life belongs to itself. One man’s life is his own to wager—but the lives of all under heaven…”

He paused, then continued firmly. “—cannot be gambled upon fierce medicine! The Remonstrance Officer just mentioned reformers throughout history. What comes to my mind is Wang Mang’s usurpation—rushing reform through so hastily that it swept away golden rules and jade laws overnight. Wang Mang’s laws weren’t inherently bad—it simply wasn’t the right time!”

He finished in one breath, caught his breath again, and bowed deeply. “I hope the Chancellor will consider this carefully.”

The hall fell silent. Qu Xiangwen sighed and took his leave as well. He hadn’t gone more than a few steps when he heard Zhou Tan speak behind him. “Go visit your sister sometime soon.”

Qu Xiangwen turned back, and this time did not bow. “Summer’s heat is rising—take care of your health, Brother-in-law.”

Only after his figure had vanished behind the screen wall of the Su residence did Zhou Tan walk over to stand beside Su Chaoci, the two of them standing side by side at the threshold.

Su Chaoci said, “Shen Luo is, in truth, an upright official.”

Zhou Tan agreed. “His judgment is a little lacking still—earlier, when he warned His Majesty against taking in the Luo woman, he nearly left the imperial family without any dignified way out. He’ll need a few more years of seasoning. But… if the whole court were filled with men like Master Shen, that wouldn’t be a bad thing at all.”

Su Chaoci sighed. “Master Shen speaks his mind without reservation. Your young brother-in-law, though… what he said just now was quite artfully put—essentially telling you that you lack compassion. Remarkable, really—to have both a compassionate heart and sharp adaptability. Given time, he’ll become a true pillar of the state.”

Zhou Tan looked up at the drifting clouds on the horizon and stretched lazily. “Indeed. Seeing men like them, I can’t help but feel that Great Yin’s future in this court holds real promise…”

Before Su Chaoci could respond, a servant came rushing in from the front gate. “My lord, it’s terrible—over by the Bian River—”

Zhou Tan raised a hand to silence him, then said to Su Chaoci with a yawn, “In a few days, shall I host you for a banquet at Linfeng Pavilion?”

Su Chaoci hesitated. “Given the awkwardness between us right now, how could I possibly attend so openly?”

“No matter. Once I’m no longer Chancellor in a few days, I’ll be free to invite Master Su to my humble home for a chat.” Zhou Tan spoke as though entirely at ease, turning to walk out, ignoring Su Chaoci’s look of shock. “I’ll be expecting you.”