Fang Ming disagreed. “If you put it that way, the most appropriate topic should be agricultural affairs, shouldn’t it? The Grand General’s emphasis on agriculture is even more obvious. On the second day of the second month, she personally went down to the fields to plow, ordered officials everywhere to encourage agriculture and sericulture, and reduced field taxes. This entire year’s focus has been on farming—that should be even more worthy of examination.”
“The state’s foundation is agriculture—this is known to everyone under heaven. Does it need to be examined?” Xi Lan said, “Examinations should test matters that perplex officials or are subjects of ongoing dispute, so that good strategies can be sought.”
Fang Ming countered, “Ridiculous. Examinations test the candidates’ talent and character. Only those with both talent and virtue are qualified to stand in the court and assist the ruler in governing the country.”
The two arguing didn’t know that at this very moment, Zhao Hanzhang, Ji Yuan, and Ming Yu were sitting in a private room on the second floor, looking down through the half-open window facing the main hall.
Zhao Hu came in shaking his folding fan. The servant boy following behind him bent over and placed the wine jar he’d been carrying onto the table. Zhao Hu snapped his fan shut with a “crack,” then sat down across from Zhao Hanzhang, tapping the wine jar. “This is my wine house’s newly brewed liquor. You give it a good name.”
As he spoke, he snapped the fan open again with another “crack” and began gently waving it before Zhao Hanzhang’s gaze.
Zhao Hanzhang’s eyes slowly moved from the wine jar to the fan he was waving. “Seventh Great-Uncle, it’s getting cold now. Using a fan at this time—be careful not to catch a chill.”
The paper industry’s development and technological progress had caused paper fans to appear ahead of schedule. Oh, right, before paper fans there had been folding fans made of silk cloth, which were summer favorites of upper-class literati and scholars, though the users were very distinguished, the craftsmanship was still quite crude.
That changed when the paper workshops sent Zhao Hanzhang and Fu Tinghan many samples of newly produced paper.
Each paper workshop would send Zhao Hanzhang and Fu Tinghan a sample whenever a new variety came out, because their usage methods for each new type of paper were always unexpected. So the workshops very much wanted to hear their opinions.
For instance, when the soft straw paper they’d made according to the formula came out, the craftsmen discovered it bled ink terribly, was difficult to write on, and the paper was soft and limp. They once thought they’d made it wrong.
So they repeatedly checked the formula and made several more batches, finding that the papers produced only had tiny differences but still couldn’t be written on. They anxiously apologized to Zhao Hanzhang.
Then they unlocked the usage method for this soft straw paper.
Zhao Hanzhang took the opportunity to encourage them to experiment with their own ratios and create papers for different purposes.
The workshops were enlightened and indeed began research and development. The craftsmen at each workshop had different ideas, and the new papers they developed each had their own characteristics. Among them was a very resilient paper.
At that time it was hot summer, and Fu Tinghan was doing handicrafts. There happened to be bamboo strips nearby, so he casually polished them and made her a bamboo fan.
She used it for quite some days. When Zhao Hu came to visit and saw it, he immediately had people make a pile of paper fans and hung them in his bookshop to sell.
Thus, paper fans quickly became fashionable in Luoyang. When Zhao Hanzhang next went out on the streets, she could see someone waving a paper fan every three steps.
This was the first time she knew what it felt like to lead a trend.
She glanced at the wine jar and asked, “If I name it, how much do you plan to sell it for per jar?”
Zhao Hu held up three fingers. “Three hundred wen.”
Seeing Zhao Hanzhang frown, he paused and asked hesitantly, “Then two hundred and sixty wen?”
Zhao Hanzhang said, “No, both are too cheap. Five hundred wen per jar—even more expensive would be better.”
At these words, not only Zhao Hu, but Ji Yuan and Ming Yu couldn’t help but look at her.
Zhao Hu scrutinized her expression, trying to discern whether she was speaking sarcastically or mocking him. “You’re… serious?”
Zhao Hanzhang replied, “Of course. With grain so scarce now, how can we brew wine in large quantities?”
Zhao Hu exhaled and began seriously considering. “Five hundred wen would work too.”
Zhao Hanzhang looked at the wine he’d poured out and smelled its aroma, then sighed. “The wine has a rich, mellow fragrance—clearly made with good grain, all premium quality. Let’s call this wine Qiongyu.”
Zhao Hu felt the name she’d chosen wasn’t very good and suggested, “Why don’t you think of another one? Think of a more meaningful name, like ‘Unifying the Realm’ or ‘Supreme Dominance’ or something.”
“…In Seventh Great-Uncle’s eyes, I can only come up with such names?” Zhao Hanzhang asked.
“No, it’s for ease of understanding, isn’t it? You said it yourself—even official documents should be written in plain language. Look at the names you gave those items at Treasure Pavilion—they’re not as good as what illiterate craftsmen came up with.”
Zhao Hanzhang protested, “That was plain and easy to understand. Your wine costs five hundred wen per jar—what common people can afford to drink it? Treasure Pavilion is called Treasure Pavilion, but most things inside are items common people can afford. Shouldn’t I choose plainer names?”
She didn’t want to hear Zhao Hu’s nonsense and waved her hand. “Just this one name. You tell me—do you want it or not?”
What ‘Unifying the Realm,’ ‘Supreme Dominance’?
Being too ostentatious would invite trouble. Didn’t he know that keeping a low profile was the way?
There hadn’t been any movement from the south yet. Openly putting up such a name—the Prince of Langya would think she was about to send troops against him.
But Zhao Hu had explosive confidence in her and felt she was too cautious. “If you ask me, you should strike while the iron’s hot. You defeated the Xiongnu last year—this year you should advance into Jiangnan and directly unify the realm. Wouldn’t that be good?”
Zhao Hanzhang said earnestly, “Seventh Great-Uncle, don’t always think about fighting and killing. Governing the realm should prioritize peace.”
Ji Yuan explained, “The army lacks provisions, and the people have just experienced warfare and locust plagues. They need to rest and recuperate, so this year should focus on recovery. Starting a war would cause many deaths.”
“Those are all excuses. When has war ever not caused deaths?” Zhao Hu sneered. “Will attacking Jiangnan later not cause deaths? Since you’re willing to use barbarians as officials, you should have driven all those captured Xiongnu soldiers and Shi Le’s surrendered army to fight in Jiangnan, with the Zhao family army supporting from the flanks. Even if people die, theirs would die first.”
Zhao Hanzhang’s face turned cold. “The Xiongnu and Jie tribes have already submitted and are also our Jin people. Seventh Great-Uncle, do not say such things again.”
Zhao Hanzhang felt her heart grow cold. After all these years, Zhao Hu still hadn’t changed his character of disregarding human life. He didn’t consider Xiongnu and Jie people as human, just as he didn’t consider common people as human.
Zhao Hanzhang suppressed her displeasure and said to him, “You should just focus on doing business. It’s better to discuss less about court matters.”
“Fine, you and Zitu are the same—you look down on me. You’re noble, you’re benevolent.” Zhao Hu stood up to leave with his servant boy. “But our ancestor had a saying: ‘Those not of our race must have different hearts.’ Do you think those barbarians will remain loyal to you forever?”
Zhao Hanzhang replied, “At least while I’m alive, they won’t dare rebel.”
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