"Many people do not understand. What reforms? What revolution? Was it not fine before? Everyone lived well enough, in harmony. Now you go reforming, revoking — isn't it all just for the Emperor's ambition? Offending the noble houses, offending the sects — isn't it all just to make Yankang's territory larger? And now disaster after disaster befalls us, and it's all your fault, all because of the reforms. That is utter nonsense!"
In Bazhou Prefecture, Emperor Yanfeng walked the streets with a host of civil and military officials, watching the long lines of people queuing at government relief porridge stations. The Emperor approached one such station, where a magistrate ladling porridge was about to drop to his knees. The Emperor waved him off. "It is bitter cold — forget the formalities. How much does one person receive?"
"Your Majesty, each adult receives one bowl of rice porridge, two steamed buns, and a ladle of dried vegetables."
The Emperor nodded and dismissed him, then took the ladle himself and began serving the refugees. Behind him stood rows upon rows of court officials. As he ladled porridge, the Emperor continued, "The ones who lived well before were never the common folk! Minister of Agriculture — tell them how many people a single acre of good farmland could feed before the State Preceptor's reforms."
The Minister of Agriculture hurried to answer. "Before the reforms, one acre of good farmland yielded three hundred and thirty jin of coarse grain per year. But at that time, all the farmland was in the hands of noble houses, temples, and monasteries — the farmers owned no land at all. A single farming household of seven or eight souls might work eighty acres of land, growing grain, fruit trees, vegetables, and medicinal herbs. They toiled for an entire year through two planting seasons, yet had no surplus grain, barely enough to fill their stomachs. They might eat meat once or twice a month. When natural disasters or war struck, they starved to death. In those days, many elderly people would throw themselves into rivers or climb into the mountains during famine years, simply so as not to burden their families. Meanwhile, the noble houses, temples, and monasteries hoarded mountains of grain and wealth."
The Emperor spoke. "Eighty acres of land, feeding a family of seven or eight — toiling year in and year out — and where did all that grain go? Now tell them how many people one acre of farmland can feed after the reforms."
The Minister of Agriculture continued. "When Your Majesty commanded the State Preceptor to reform, all land under heaven was reclaimed by the public. Noble houses, temples, and monasteries were forbidden to hold land. Each able-bodied man was allotted eighty acres, of which twenty were good farmland. In recent years, the population has grown several times over, and our territory has expanded considerably, so the rules have been adjusted — forty acres per man, ten of which are good farmland. The State Preceptor had the warriors and cultivators work the fields, ensuring harvests regardless of drought or flood — when it is dry, they bring rain; when it floods, they drain the water. And so for one hundred and sixty years, there has been no famine. Today, each acre yields eight hundred and twenty jin, and the grain tax is only two shi. Farmers can eat meat without it feeling like a luxury."
"Three hundred and thirty jin. Eight hundred and twenty jin."
The Emperor placed two steamed buns into a starving man's bowl, then added a ladle of dried vegetables. He sighed. "What is a Buddha? This is a Buddha — a living Buddha, a true Buddha, the Buddha of all the people! It is not enough to don the title of the Tathagata or the Dao Master and offer some feel-good words that merely soothe the soul! Minister, let me ask you again — since the State Preceptor's reforms have been so beneficial, and grain has increased so much, why is there still famine when disaster strikes?"
The Minister of Agriculture's face darkened with difficulty. "Well..."
"Speak!"
"Besides the population increase, there is also the matter of meat production and warfare. Raising livestock requires grain. The army feeds exotic beasts, trains soldiers, wages war — all of it demands provisions. But most of all, farmland has been changing hands. Some of it has been bought back by the great noble houses and the sects, temples, and monasteries, and they have become landlords once again."
The Minister continued. "The grain has flowed back into their hands. The last sect rebellion happened precisely because they had both money and grain, which gave them such audacity. And this famine should never have become so severe, but after the wars, the treasury was emptied, and these great noble houses, sects, temples, and monasteries refused to release their grain reserves. The last sect rebellion caused damage so far-reaching..."
The Emperor turned and cast a glance over his assembled officials. "The noble houses, sects, temples, and monasteries — they once sat high above us all, in heaven itself, feasting on delicacies every day, speaking of romance and poetry, discussing Dao arts and supernatural powers, debating immortality — all while the farmers fed them. And did any of them lift a finger to help those farmers? When the farmers refused to submit, they simply sent down disasters and tribulations! Does this snow calamity seem strange to you? It is not strange at all! Back when the sects ruled the nation, disasters like this happened all the time! But it was not the heavens sending disaster — it was the sects themselves, inflicting calamity upon the people to force them into submission, to keep them from ever rebelling!"
"When the State Preceptor reformed and forced the sects to work for the farmers and the merchants, they were unhappy. They did not want to work. The State Preceptor reformed further, opening elementary schools and great academies and the Imperial Academy, passing on the sects' knowledge to the common people so they could do the work themselves — and the sects were even more furious. They wanted to rebel! They wanted to kill! And yet they forget that their own ancestors, going back eight generations, were all farmers — not a single one of them was anything special!"
"And you officials had better listen well and remember clearly. This time I am cutting off their heads. Next time, if any of you act as they did, I will cut off yours! The officials I want are not these high-and-mighty sect masters, not some exalted 'Immortal' or 'Buddha.' The officials I want are people who can get their hands dirty and do real work! Scholars, farmers, artisans, merchants — the scholars must be willing to serve the farmers, the artisans, and the merchants! There are still some scholars in court who think themselves above the rest of you. Damn it all — Chronicle Official, forgive me a vulgar word. — damn it all, they strut about every day looking down their noses! I'd sooner lop off their heads!"
The civil and military officials lowered their heads, none daring to speak.
Two Chronicle Officials exchanged glances, both looking troubled. The elder of the two whispered, "Your Majesty, the Son of Heaven should choose his words with care."
The Emperor replied, "I do not often use such language. But when one is angry enough, one curses. Chronicle Official, bear with me."
Just then, the queue had reached a great monk who stood holding a golden alms bowl, smiling. "Your Majesty speaks well, truly. But when disaster comes, how to stop the disaster and spare the people — that is the right path."
The Emperor glanced at the monk, ladled him a bowl of porridge and two steamed buns, and added a spoonful of vegetables. "I do not merely speak well — I do even better. Eat slowly, great monk. Do not disturb the common folk."
The monk agreed and carried his golden alms bowl away.
"The Tathagata!" Those behind the Emperor saw the great monk and felt their hearts tremble.
After the monk departed, an old Daoist priest came forward — slovenly dressed, hair unkempt, carrying a bowl. He smiled. "Has Your Majesty eaten?"
The Emperor's face turned grave. He ladled the priest a bowl of porridge and shook his head. "Not yet."
"Your Majesty should eat. One needs to be full before one sets out on a journey."
The Emperor nodded. He picked up two steamed buns and carried a bowl of porridge, then turned to his officials. "You should all eat as well. Something is about to happen."
The ministers looked at the monk and the Daoist like soldiers facing a great enemy. They watched as the two — one holding a golden alms bowl, the other a plain bowl — crouched by the roadside against the wall, drinking porridge and eating steamed buns with dried vegetables, as if it were the finest feast.
The officials stepped forward and each claimed their share of food, crouching by the roadside in turn. The Emperor crouched among them, eating in silence.
When they had finished, the Emperor went to the well pump to wash his bowl, with the officials lining up behind him. The Tathagata and the Dao Master also came forward to wash their bowls. "It has been a long time since we have eaten mortal food," they remarked. "There is a certain charm to it."
"I and these ministers have been eating it for months now."
The Emperor spoke earnestly. "You two should eat like this more often. Do not let yourselves live so high and so far above the world."
"Height and distance serve to free one from worldly concerns," the old Daoist Master replied with a smile. "You are the Emperor of the mortal realm, governing mortal men. But cultivation of the Dao and the Buddha demands that one withdraw from the dust and turmoil of the world. Once entangled, it is exceedingly difficult to extricate oneself."
The Emperor smiled and asked, "Dao Master — can you become a true god?"
The Dao Master shook his head.
The Emperor then asked the Tathagata, "Tathagata — can you become a true Buddha?"
The Tathagata shook his head. "The Divine Bridge is broken. Who can become a true god or Buddha?"
"Then what is the point of all your talk? Withdrawing from the world, making yourselves sound so formidable — Chronicle Official, I have used coarse language again. Never mind, I know. You may withdraw — you are no longer needed here."
The Emperor set off toward the city gates, followed by his ministers. He stopped and turned back with a smile. "Although we are following court rules rather than the rules of the martial world, there is no need for such a large crowd. Those at the Divine Bridge realm — stay. The rest, withdraw."
Many officials stopped in their tracks. The Emperor was accompanied by seven: Grand Commandant Yuan Kong, Minister of Works Xiu Leqing, Grand Commandant Wei Pingbo, Grand General of Celestial Strategy Qin Baoyue, Prince of Mount Tai Ling Xuhua, General of Agile Cavalry Quan Dingwu, and Minister Su Yunzhi — eight in all, counting the Emperor.
The Tathagata and the Dao Master paid them no mind and continued walking.
Emperor Yanfeng led his followers onward. They passed through the city gates and still did not stop. When they reached the fields beyond the city, the Emperor halted and gazed upon the crops, asking an old farmer, "Will there be a good harvest?"
"Yes!" the old farmer called out in a strong voice.
The Emperor smiled and turned back to his ministers. "There will be a good harvest!"
The Dao Master spoke. "Your Majesty, this year — yes. Next year — perhaps not. This old Daoist has brought with him a scroll of scripture, recording the stories of the Great Ruins. It is called the Scripture of the Kalpa of the Founding Emperor. Your Majesty, read it at your leisure as we walk. If, after reading it, you still insist on carrying out your reforms — then the sun and moon shall have new skies."
The Tathagata sighed. "How compassionate of you, Dao Master."
The Dao Master shook his head. "He does not know the dangers here. Once he does, he will think as we do." With that, he placed the Scripture of the Kalpa of the Founding Emperor into Emperor Yanfeng's hands.
"Your Majesty, beware of a trap!" Minister Su Yunzhi warned.
The Emperor smiled. "It is nothing."
He took the scripture from the Dao Master's hands and began reading it carefully, page by page.
They continued walking at an unhurried pace. The Emperor turned page after page, reading the Scripture of the Kalpa of the Founding Emperor from beginning to end. The Dao Master and the Tathagata never hurried him, simply walking on in silence.
After they had walked some ten or so li, the Emperor finished reading. He steadied himself, raised his head to gaze at the sky, and said nothing.
The old Dao Master spoke. "Your Majesty, who holds the common people in his heart — you must know what must be done?"
The Emperor stood lost in thought. Then suddenly, he spoke. "When I was young, the State of Yankang did not hold such vast territory, and the Emperor was not held in such reverence. The sects and noble houses still lorded over everyone. Once, I accompanied an envoy abroad — we visited a place called the Yuanqi Kingdom, what is now Yuan Prefecture. There was a thunder calamity there at the time. The sky was blanketed in dark clouds, covering the entire Yuanqi Kingdom, and lightning crackled down ceaselessly, striking dead countless cattle and livestock and countless common folk."
"The Emperor of the Yuanqi Kingdom knelt in the midst of the thunder calamity with his court officials, praying for mercy and confessing his sins. The people of the kingdom knelt upon the ground as well, begging the heavens to quell their wrath. In that thunder calamity, the Emperor himself was struck dead. It was only later that I learned their 'heavens' were not divine spirits at all — it was the Thunder Hidden Sect. A sect, that is. Presumably the tribute they received that year had been meager, so the Thunder Hidden Sect sent down a tribulation. The artifact that caused the thunder was the Thunder Hidden Sect's treasure — the Nine Heavens Thunder Attribution Cover. The Emperor claimed the blame upon himself, and so the Thunder Hidden Sect struck him dead and installed a new emperor. That was when I began to think..."
He looked at the Dao Master and the Tathagata, and spoke each word with weight. "I would overthrow you. And now — I have done it. It is simply that I and the State Preceptor have not done enough, which is why this snow calamity has come. So what if you are gods? I will overthrow the gods themselves!"
The Dao Master could not help but interject. "Does Your Majesty not care about the common people? Would you turn Yankang into another Great Ruins? When you and the State Preceptor carried out your reforms, when you and the State Preceptor defeated those sects and unified such vast territory — this old Daoist never once stopped you, did I? But if you push your reforms further, it is the wrath of the heavens themselves, and the common people will suffer!"
The old Tathagata added, "Your Majesty, please reconsider."
The Emperor replied, "You have your convictions. I have mine."
The old Tathagata sighed and turned to the Dao Master. "Old friend, let us change the Emperor."
The Dao Master produced a dao sword and nodded. "Very well. We have said all we can, but Your Majesty is bent on his course. We have no choice but to change the Emperor."
The Emperor looked around and saw that old Daoist priests, old monks, and impoverished scholars were approaching from every direction, closing in around them — far more numerous than his own party of eight.
The Grand General of Celestial Strategy and the others' faces went pale.
The Emperor was startled, then laughed. "Tathagata, Dao Master — I thought you would follow the rules of the martial world. I did not expect you to come with the rules of the court."
The Tathagata shook his head. "We are compelled by circumstances. Your Majesty, please forgive us. Dao Master, and all you fellow Daoists — let us send His Majesty on his way."