After inspecting military affairs and defensive construction at Hulao Pass, Han Qian returned to Luoyang with Wang Jun.

Late September had already entered the late autumn season. Grass and leaves were gradually turning yellow, and when a gust of wind swept through, fallen leaves from the gardens were carried aloft, spinning in the air.

Han Qian sat in Lingyun Pavilion at Shangyang Garden, holding his seal as the ruler of Great Liang. He stamped it onto memorials one after another—”thwap, thwap, thwap”—with great satisfaction. Xi Ren couldn’t help but complain:

“These memorials all discuss important matters. They were deliberated thoroughly by the officials who worked day and night without rest, yet you don’t even look at them and just stamp them directly. Aren’t you afraid this will dishearten those who see it?”

“Since Feng Liao, Guo Rong, Gu Qian, and the others have already discussed these matters thoroughly, and they’re all urgent business that must be delegated immediately, wouldn’t I be delaying things if I read through each one carefully?” Han Qian said.

Hearing such an irresponsible statement from Han Qian, Xi Ren pursed her lips. Feng Liao, Guo Rong, and Gu Qian, who sat below, could only smile helplessly.

Qin Wen, serving as Remonstrance Grand Master, stood beside Han Qian and dutifully fulfilled his responsibilities, focusing his attention on quickly reviewing each memorial to ensure there were no previously undiscovered oversights.

However, no matter how sharp Qin Wen’s eyes or how concentrated his attention, he still couldn’t match Han Qian’s direct stamping speed. Over several days, more than a hundred accumulated memorials were all processed in the time it took to drink half a cup of tea, after which they were directly handed to the Right Secretariat for execution.

Even Qin Wen felt that Han Qian was being too irresponsible as ruler.

“Is there anything else?” Han Qian pushed the thick stack of stamped memorials forward on the desk. Seeing that Feng Liao, Gu Qian, and Guo Rong showed no intention of standing up to take these memorials out for execution, he asked.

“The Minister has been in Luoyang for half a month. At yesterday’s banquet, his health appeared quite recovered. He should step forward to serve Great Liang. Does Your Majesty have any thoughts on this?” After hesitating briefly, Gu Qian directly asked on behalf of Feng Liao and Guo Rong.

After Han Daochang arrived in Luoyang, he had taken charge of the Treasury Bureau and Great Liang’s First Savings Bank, but had not been given the title of Participating Administrator, meaning he had no ministerial position. He temporarily had no qualification to attend Privy Council meetings. Everyone felt this was acceptable, since aside from being Han Qian’s legitimate uncle, Han Daochang’s other credentials were still relatively shallow, and his abilities were not particularly distinguished.

However, besides his status as an imperial clan minister, Han Daoming had held prominent positions in the Chu court including Governor of Chizhou, Vice Minister of Finance, Acting Minister of Finance in Yueyang, Minister of Finance, and Participating Administrator. In terms of credentials and capability, neither Feng Liao, Gu Qian, nor Guo Rong could match him.

Previously, to facilitate peace negotiations with the Chu court in Jinling, Han Daoming had been given the title of Minister of the Court of State Ceremonial, but this position, which wasn’t particularly important in the central government, was theoretically reserved for Feng Yi. It no longer suited Han Daoming’s current status and position.

However, since returning from inspecting the army at Hulao Pass, Han Qian had hosted several banquets for his officials without mentioning Han Daoming’s official appointment in Luoyang, nor had he summoned Han Daoming privately.

Han Daoming could still maintain his composure for now, but the three—Gu Qian, Feng Liao, and Guo Rong—couldn’t fathom Han Qian’s intentions. They worried that if this matter dragged on, it would cause subtle changes in people’s hearts, so they decided to bring it directly to Han Qian for frank discussion.

Additionally, nearly all the Han clan members had moved to Luoyang. The Office of Clan Affairs or Court of the Imperial Clan should reasonably be established, but Han Qian had made no mention of it at all.

Hearing Gu Qian raise this issue, Han Qian sat cross-legged behind his desk, hand supporting his chin.

This was actually a major problem he currently faced and needed to resolve.

Although throughout millennia, the role played by the imperial clan wasn’t always positive—indeed, often the contradictions and conflicts within the imperial clan frequently dragged empires into the quagmire of war—nevertheless, whenever one wished to consolidate imperial power, the imperial clan was forever a force that could not be ignored.

Even if Han Qian wanted to weaken the hereditary succession system, the traditions and inertial forces formed over thousands of years meant that whether it was Feng Liao and Guo Rong, or Tian Cheng, Gao Shao, Zhao Wuji, and Lin Haizheng, these people now followed him and dutifully served him, but their inner goals were largely to hope that wealth and honor could be passed down to their descendants.

The purpose of rewarding merit with noble titles lay precisely in this.

Great Liang now and in the future could not avoid having a massive meritorious nobility group emerge that would inevitably obtain special status within Great Liang.

It was impossible that Han Qian could simply raise his arm and call out, and all these Great Liang nobles would become enlightened enough to transform into public servants dedicated to serving the people’s interests for their entire lives. Han Qian also feared taking steps too large and hurting himself.

Throughout history, and even for dynasties that had not yet arrived or would never arrive, rulers did not wish for the meritorious nobility group, especially the military nobility group, to become an existence threatening central politics and causing new turmoil. To avoid this, they either repeatedly purged and suppressed the nobility group after founding the nation, or they appeased people’s hearts with more generous economic privileges.

Emotionally, Han Qian naturally didn’t want to follow the old path of “when the cunning rabbit dies, the hunting dog is cooked,” but if he granted the nobility group and imperial clan descendants overly generous economic privileges, as years accumulated, a massive economic privilege group would inevitably form, devouring and encroaching upon local and central finances. Eventually this would cause central financial operations to fail, comprehensively shifting the increasingly massive national affairs and defense expenditures onto increasingly harsh exploitation of the common people at the bottom.

Once they encountered relatively serious internal or external troubles, the entire social system would directly face a new round of collapse crisis.

It wasn’t that Han Qian hadn’t considered how to resolve these problems—it was just that previously the timing wasn’t mature enough, and the moment hadn’t arrived, so he hadn’t mentioned it. But now that his uncle’s appointment had been raised, seeing the stance of Feng Liao, Gu Qian and the others, they would inevitably discuss arrangements for the Han clan members. These problems could no longer be delayed.

Otherwise, it would inevitably produce some extremely subtle negative impacts on people’s hearts.

“Military affairs are busy, and my energy is also limited, making it difficult to attend to state governance. I trust you ministers greatly, but casually stamping numerous memorials still inevitably draws criticism,” Han Qian said methodically. “I’m thinking—should we separate the review and rejection functions of the Left Secretariat and establish a new bureau to handle them? At that time, as long as the new bureau and the Left and Right Secretariats reach consensus on memorials from prefectures, counties, and various bureaus, I will in principle no longer reject them and will directly approve them. What do you think?”

“Is Your Majesty planning to implement the Three Departments and Six Ministries system of the previous dynasty?” Gu Qian asked.

In the early years of the previous dynasty, the Three Departments and Six Ministries system had the Secretariat-Chancellery responsible for policy-making, the Department of State Affairs responsible for review, and the Imperial Secretariat with its Six Ministries responsible for the specific execution of various matters. When Zhu Wen founded the new dynasty, both to centralize power and to improve deliberation efficiency, he merged the Department of State Affairs and Imperial Secretariat.

When Han Qian assumed the position of ruler, busy with defense affairs, Gu Qian, Feng Liao and others mainly handled matters of merging the two armies. They merged the Imperial Secretariat and Six Ministries into the Right Secretariat, changed the Secretariat-Chancellery to the Left Secretariat, and together with the Military Staff Bureau and Censorate Bureau, these supported Great Liang’s new central framework.

Hearing Han Qian’s words, Gu Qian thought Han Qian wanted to split apart the policy-making and review powers of the Left Secretariat, ultimately imitating the previous dynasty to form a Three Departments and Six Ministries structure of mutual checks and balances. This would also create an entirely new central institution for Han Daoming to head.

He and Feng Liao and Guo Rong exchanged glances, not finding anything unacceptable about this.

“Something like that,” Han Qian said, “but there are also slight differences…”

“What are the differences? Please instruct us, Your Majesty,” Gu Qian said.

“In the previous dynasty’s Three Departments, all held executive positions. Whether through hereditary succession, recruitment, or civil examinations, all were selected and appointed by the Ministry of Personnel. Officials needed to be streamlined and capable. The Left and Right Secretariats inherit the powers of the Secretariat-Chancellery and Imperial Secretariat, so their official system can mainly follow precedent. However, the core responsibility of the new bureau is to deliberate on state affairs, which requires collective wisdom. More personnel should be appointed, and aside from the presiding ministers, those participating in deliberations should no longer be distinguished by hierarchical levels. I believe that for the new bureau, the Personnel Bureau should no longer appoint executive officials. Instead, imperial clan ministers, meritorious officials who have rendered outstanding service to Great Liang, and local worthies recommended by their regions should directly participate. What do you think?” Han Qian said.

What Han Qian proposed was the embryonic form of an upper house system, or in other words, a noble council. Gu Qian, Feng Liao, and Guo Rong were all somewhat stunned. They naturally knew that the new system Han Qian spoke of had earth-shaking differences from the Three Departments and Six Ministries system they were familiar with, but for the moment they couldn’t see through how profound the impact of this matter on state governance would be.

At this time, they also couldn’t say what was good or bad about it.

Han Qian wouldn’t demand that Feng Liao, Gu Qian, and Guo Rong give him an answer right now either. He was only setting boundaries for them to begin discussing, and would convene everyone to discuss and decide after some time had passed.

Gu Qian, Guo Rong, Feng Liao, and Qin Wen and others left Lingyun Pavilion carrying a pile of memorials.

“What are you trying to do?” Xi Ren, seeing how Gu Qian, Feng Liao and the others all left with confused expressions on their faces, couldn’t help but ask Han Qian.

“You massage my shoulders for me, and I’ll tell you…” Han Qian sat cross-legged, saying with a smile.

Xi Ren knelt behind him, but unexpectedly Han Qian shamelessly lay back.

Han Qian pillowed his head on a soft, warm place and couldn’t resist reaching up to touch, but unexpectedly was pinched by Xi Ren. He raised his head to look at her face radiating the alluring glow of a mature woman, and said:

“…After great chaos there must be great order, yet for thousands of years the prosperous eras inaugurated by great order have been fleeting. Even the Zhenguan and Kaiyuan prosperous eras of the previous dynasty together lasted only about one hundred thirty years. However, from the An Lushan Rebellion onward, the previous dynasty declined continuously until the realm collapsed. For over one hundred fifty years, this world has been like a bronze furnace tormenting the people. Not to mention the history from the end of Han to the Sui dynasty—the so-called two Han periods cannot be said to have been anything but strong, yet the years when the people could live and work in peace were extremely limited. Therefore, many heroic lords often sigh that winning the realm on horseback is easy, but governing the realm after dismounting is difficult. My uncle hasn’t even been in Luoyang for a full month, yet people’s hearts have already become somewhat subtle. Gu Qian couldn’t wait to raise this matter, though it’s not from selfish motives. It’s just a pity that throughout millennia, numerous great scholars have advocated countless practical studies for governing the world, yet not one method can effectively resolve the various problems bred by the imperial clan and meritorious nobility. Setting others aside, after Xi Chang and Ting’er’s father arrived in Luoyang, having them participate in deliberating state affairs is somewhat beyond their capabilities, yet they won’t be willing to submit to others either. Never mind that right now soldiers and civilians alike suffer hardship and everyone must overcome difficulties together—even if the nation becomes peaceful and prosperous in the future, I don’t hope to simply enfeoff them as dukes or marquises, then reward them with fine fields, beautiful mansions, concubines, servants and slaves to let them thoroughly enjoy their remaining years. Those surnamed Han, merely because they’re surnamed Han—now everyone in Luoyang helps speak for them, wishing that anyone surnamed Han should be enfeoffed as marquis. But if we really do it that way, one day Great Liang will produce a massive group like the aristocratic clans that presses down on the common people at the bottom until they can’t breathe, until finally they must revolt and overthrow the world seeking reform. Yet they followed me in conquering the realm, and don’t want to gain nothing in the end. Those who are devoted to the people and willing to remain poor and honest are always the minority. And in the future there’s also no one who can guarantee that my descendants will all be brilliant and martial, diligent in state governance, and not indulge in pleasure? Not to mention distant matters—just say if something happens to me, who can guarantee that Wenxin and Wencong won’t engage in fratricidal conflict, or guarantee that Great Liang won’t produce another Xu Mingzhen? These problems are extremely troublesome. If I were in Tangyi, they wouldn’t be so urgent, but since I’ve assumed the position of ruler of Great Liang, the imperial clan descendants of the Zhu family and those enfeoffed dukes and marquises, as well as generals and officials unsuited to the new governmental system, must all be properly settled now. These have all become pressing problems that must be resolved immediately…”