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Echoes of My Heart Throughout the Court-Chapter 351: The Temporary Rehiring of the Retired Prime Minister
After all these chapters, In the Years When I Was a Father—the heartfelt story of Qi Sheng’s journey—has finally been completed today. Thank you for following along through every twist and emotion. Please support on Ko-fi, every bit helps with translation and maintaining this website. Stay tuned for more heartwarming stories ahead!
“Brother-in-law, this cannot be done!”
“Your Majesty, this cannot be done!”
“Brother-in-law, this task can only be entrusted to you!”
“Your Majesty, this minister is shallow in learning and talent, unfit for such a heavy responsibility!”
“Alright, brother-in-law, there’s no point in pushing this back and forth anymore.”
“……”
Former Prime Minister Dou glanced at the old emperor, stood up, patted the dust off his knees, and asked in a low voice, “Taxing the local gentry, wealthy households, and aristocrats isn’t something that can be implemented easily. Do you have a plan?”
Most people believed that the true reason for the downfall of a unified dynasty was land annexation. But in truth, the real killer was the inability to collect taxes.
By the end of every dynasty, local officials and influential gentry were entangled like roots, exploiting every possible method to evade taxes. When the court couldn’t collect revenue, it had no money. Without money, it couldn’t maintain its military. And without a military, it couldn’t handle the chaos that erupted from all directions.
Did the Son of Heaven possess divine favor? No — whoever had stronger soldiers and fiercer horses was the true ruler.
Divine will, the Mandate of Heaven — all of that was just rhetoric to placate the common folk. The old emperor had always known this in his heart: the reason he could be emperor, and remain emperor, was because he commanded more soldiers than anyone else.
“Shanbai, do you remember Emperor Wu of Liang?”
Former Prime Minister Dou paused briefly to think and then turned pale with shock. “Your Majesty! No — that absolutely won’t do. Our kingdom is not yet in as dire a situation as that of Emperor Wu. We’re still in the founding era. If we imitate him and purge entire noble families that refuse to pay taxes, it would be far too extreme. By the end of Emperor Wu’s reign, he barely managed to suppress the boiling public outrage.”
Empress Dou sat calmly to the side. As her husband and brother discussed, she quietly and clearly recalled the historical events tied to Emperor Wu of Liang.
That was a rare period in history — beginning with the founding Emperor of Liang, the fifth emperor in line was Emperor Wu.
Thanks to the accumulation from the previous emperors, Emperor Wu inherited a treasury brimming with wealth, which allowed him to usher in a golden age. However, he also inherited a massive problem: a proliferation of powerful clans and land monopolized by these elites.
At the time, these gentry had the audacity to mint their own currency. Meanwhile, the poor had to exchange their hard-earned crops for the money in these elites’ hands. If their harvest wasn’t enough, they could only sell their land. But the gentry — they had as much money as they wanted, out of thin air.
Thus, by just the fifth emperor, the Liang dynasty had entered a stage typically seen only at the end of dynasties: the rich owning endless fields, and the poor not having even a patch of ground to stand on.
Fortunately, Emperor Wu had a blade.
— He appointed ruthless officials and dealt with the gentry in the most direct and brutal manner. Confiscations. Clan exterminations. The confiscated lands were redistributed, effectively alleviating the land concentration crisis. Most dynasties in decline could no longer do such things — not because they lacked the will, but because they no longer commanded the military strength to enforce them.
And… the Tian Tong Emperor — he also had a blade.
As the founding emperor, his blade was the sharpest, hardest of them all.
“Your Majesty,” Empress Dou rarely interrupted, her expression grave. “Are you planning to employ ruthless officials?”
What answered her was her husband’s hesitant gaze and a face full of carefully chosen words.
The atmosphere in the private room grew increasingly strange.
Suddenly, a voice drifted in, cheerful and utterly out of place amidst the tension: [I know! The Jinyiwei!!!]
[They’re the emperor’s infamous attack dogs—whoever he wants bitten, they’ll bite; whatever crime he wants made up, they’ll fabricate!]
A few Jinyiwei agents, upon hearing this voice, nearly burst into tears.
That’s not true! We’re too busy falsifying information and pretending to be all-knowing—we don’t even have time to frame people!
But the Commander of the Jinyiwei couldn’t help the corners of his lips from curling upward.
He had always worried about the Jinyiwei’s positioning. If their sole purpose was to gather intelligence and serve as the emperor’s eyes and ears, that was certainly valuable—but it felt a bit… flimsy, power-wise.
However, “ruthless enforcers” were a different story.
Though most of them met tragic ends, while they lived, they were feared throughout the land. In their prime, not even the prime minister dared to provoke them lightly.
To bask in glory for twenty or thirty years, then die violently—compared to living a safe but insignificant life—he’d choose the former without hesitation.
Empress Dou was startled.
But the old emperor was already growing excited.
How had he missed this? Right under his nose, he already had a group of ready-made ruthless enforcers. All they needed was a little more power— For example, the Jinyiwei originally handled palace security, arrests, and prison matters. Now, what if they could bypass the Censorate and report judicial matters directly to the emperor? What if they could detain and interrogate suspects without interference from the Ministry of Justice, the Court of Judicial Review, or the Censorate?
With that, the perfect ruthless enforcement team was born.
As for checks and balances on the Jinyiwei—he had a rough idea: create another agency to monitor them.
But that could wait. First, he needed to transition the Jinyiwei.
“Empress, your guess is right. I do want to revive the practice of ruthless enforcers.” Under Empress Dou’s disapproving gaze, the old emperor spoke passionately: “Do you still remember the method of land classification and tax equalization during the Tianbo era of the previous dynasty?—We only learned later, after founding this new empire, that it was actually a fair system. It aimed to tax land based on fertility, dividing farmland into five grades. The wealthier the household and the richer their land, the more taxes they paid. Poor households with poorer land paid less.”
“But back then, we all thought it was a draconian policy.”
“This misunderstanding came from local officials who openly obeyed but covertly sabotaged the system. They categorized barren hills and forests as farmland for poor peasants and counted even swamps and creeks as rice paddies, all to increase the peasant tax burden. Meanwhile, the actual rich households with vast fertile lands were somehow recorded as owning less.”
“But with ruthless enforcers, such schemes would rarely happen.”
Why? Because ruthless enforcers didn’t follow procedure, didn’t need evidence—they could throw people in prison on the spot. If they suspected something was fishy about your policies, they wouldn’t bother with hearings—they’d strike like lightning, shocking the nation with arrests and executions.
Moreover, when the state treasury was running low, only ruthless enforcers could employ extreme methods to extract wealth.
—Of course, ruthless enforcers were only useful if the emperor still held military power. Without the gun, no amount of cruelty would help.
As he spoke, the old emperor recalled how corrupt and greedy officials had once bullied his family. His voice turned icy cold: “Besides, I’ve already set restrictions. The Jinyiwei may only target officials and scholars. Unless absolutely necessary, they are forbidden from arresting ordinary citizens.”
Empress Dou looked even more worried.
She had always known that her husband—the emperor of the Tian Tong dynasty—had clawed his way up from the bottom. Because of his past, he bore deep scars of hatred toward bureaucracy.
Even though he was now the most powerful official in the land, he still instinctively treated his ministers with suspicion and resentment.
“Your Majesty,” Empress Dou tried to persuade him, “do you remember the story behind the phrase ‘equivocal response’?”
—During Emperor Wu of Liang’s reign, ruthless enforcers were heavily used, eroding trust between ruler and subjects. Ministers, even those highly capable, didn’t dare offend him. As a result, they developed a habit: never giving direct answers.
If something could be done, they’d murmur, “It seems possible, but perhaps not entirely… let’s observe a bit longer.”
If something couldn’t be done, they still wouldn’t outright refuse. They’d mutter, “Doing it this way might work… or that way… or maybe not doing anything is okay. I’ll think it over.”
Thus, the idiom “equivocal response” (模棱兩可) was born.
But when ministers spoke in such vague and contradictory ways for too long, it harmed the country.
Of course, the old emperor knew that story. He also understood what Empress Dou was trying to say. But—
“I need a sharp blade. If that blade speaks in riddles, so be it.”
Former Prime Minister Dou asked cautiously, “Does Your Majesty think… I can be that blade?”
The old emperor shook his head. “Brother-in-law, though you can be ruthless, you’re already accomplished and famous. You cannot be this blade. Ruthless enforcers have always come from obscurity, their lives full of setbacks. They’re the kind who are willing to take shortcuts for the sake of ambition.”
“Then who…”
“I’ve already chosen one. But for his first move, I need you to cover for him.”
Former Prime Minister Dou wasn’t too pleased. “This old bag of bones still has a bit of oil left to squeeze, huh?”
—To “cover” really meant to take the initial blame, so that this new blade wouldn’t break before it could cut.
At this point, the old emperor was easy to get along with, letting Former Prime Minister Dou gripe all he wanted.
With a resigned sigh, Former Prime Minister Dou cupped his hands. “Then what title does Your Majesty intend to give me?”
The old emperor bared his teeth in a grin—like a beast baring its fangs at the well-fed gentry:
“Lantou.”
Former Prime Minister Dou blinked. “Eh?” He was just about to ask when a familiar voice rang out: [Huh? Isn’t that the old tax official in the Chu dynasty responsible for commercial taxes? The Zhou dynasty abolished the title and changed it—why is the old emperor reviving it now?]
Former Prime Minister Dou froze.
The melancholy and confusion in his heart suddenly faded.
—After so many months, once again, he heard Xu Yanmiao’s voice.
[Seven months and nine days.]
Dou Qing had kept count down to the day.
[Long time no see.]
Xu Yanmiao.
And—
Stop just watching the drama—hurry up and talk the emperor out of this!!!
You cannot let the revival of ruthless enforcers get started!!!
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