Chapter 16: The Arduous Reform

The Jin army had retreated, but Zhao Huan knew well that the crisis of the Song Dynasty was far from over. According to the flow of history, Wanyan Zongwang and Wanyan Zonghan would soon unite their forces and launch another assault. It was that very year when he and his so-called father were captured, leading to the most tragic disaster in the history of the Celestial Empire—the Jingkang Catastrophe.

Such a fate was something Zhao Huan would never allow to befall himself. Sitting upon the dragon throne in the imperial study, he gazed at the core ministers gathered before him, pondering how best to resolve the crisis now threatening the Song Dynasty.

“Li Gang, compile a list and handsomely reward all the generals who distinguished themselves during the defense of the city. For the soldiers who died in battle, ensure their families receive full compensation. You must personally supervise this matter. If there is any negligence, I shall hold you solely accountable,” Zhao Huan said to Li Gang. His voice was not loud, yet it carried a commanding presence—majestic and authoritative without anger. Though he had only ascended the throne a day ago, Zhao Huan already bore the aura of a true emperor.

Li Gang hurriedly accepted the command.

As a ruler, one must be just in rewards and punishments. Only then would the generals and officials serve the nation with conviction. Zhao Huan understood this deeply. Now that victory was won, it was time to fulfill his promises.

The Song Empire was indeed rich, but years of his predecessor’s extravagance and greed had drained the people’s resources, leaving them destitute. Thus, Zhao Huan’s foremost task was to reform the administration. Corruption during the Song era was rampant beyond measure. Vigorous economic development was essential to rescue the faltering dynasty from ruin.

“I have just ascended the throne, and war has ravaged the land. The people suffer. After much consideration, I have decided to grant a general amnesty across the realm, exempting all subjects from taxes for the next three years. All palace expenditures shall be reduced to the simplest necessities, and I call upon every citizen of Song to practice diligence and frugality!” Zhao Huan declared to his ministers.

His words shocked them profoundly. Throughout history, the empire had always been built on agriculture; emphasizing agriculture and suppressing commerce was the foundation of every dynasty’s policy, and the treasury relied primarily on farmers’ taxes. Yet Zhao Huan now proposed abolishing taxes for three years—where would the state’s funds come from?

“Your Majesty, I believe this is unwise. Our treasury is already depleted. If we exempt taxes for three years, how will the court cover its expenses?” the new Minister of Revenue, Zhu Shengfei, advised cautiously.

Zhao Huan nodded, replying, “I have considered your concerns as well. Here are some preliminary thoughts I have drafted. Please circulate them among yourselves. If you have questions, let us discuss them together. If there are no major objections, let us work out a practical plan.”

As he spoke, Zhao Huan handed a stack of paper to Zhu Shengfei.

Zhu Shengfei glanced at the document and frowned deeply—not because it was obscure, but because there were many characters he simply did not recognize.

“What is the matter? Is there a problem?” Zhao Huan noticed Zhu Shengfei’s discomfort.

“Your Majesty, forgive me. I am dull-witted and cannot comprehend some of what you have written. I beg your guidance,” Zhu Shengfei replied, kneeling.

Zhao Huan slapped his forehead, suddenly realizing that he had written freely for his own satisfaction, forgetting that people of the Song era still used traditional script.

He took the papers back and explained, “I have decided to encourage the development of industry and commerce. Taxation offices will be established in every region, directly under the Ministry of Revenue, responsible for collecting taxes in each prefecture. In the future, the focus of taxation will shift from agriculture to industry and commerce…”

For half an hour, Zhao Huan spoke rapidly, like a machine gun, while the ministers stared, dumbfounded, as if listening to celestial words. They were utterly astonished, unable to believe their emperor could propose such an unorthodox system.

“Absolutely not!” Li Gang was the first to object. “Your Majesty, this must not be! Agriculture is the very foundation of our Song Dynasty. To shift focus abruptly to commerce and industry is to shake the very roots of the nation. I urge Your Majesty to reconsider.”

“Your Majesty, I second the objection. Every dynasty has prioritized agriculture. Now, as our state teeters on the brink, this is no time to create further complications,” said Zong Ze, stepping forward as well.

“Your Majesty, in my humble opinion, commercial transactions are extremely difficult to regulate. If we rashly change the system, we may find ourselves unable to collect any taxes at all,” Zhu Shengfei added, his concern more practical. Taxes on commerce and industry lacked precise metrics, making collection problematic.

The other ministers also voiced their opinions, but Zhao Huan heard them clearly: they were all opposed.

Zhao Huan had not expected such overwhelming resistance. As a modern man, he forgot that it had taken his own homeland decades to root out feudal thinking. These ministers, shackled from youth by rigid doctrine, could not easily be persuaded—even by their emperor.

With a helpless shake of his head, Zhao Huan realized that reform must proceed step by step; haste would only bring disaster. He relented, “Very well, let us set this matter aside for future discussion.” After a pause, he declared, “I have decided to establish an Ordnance Department, equal in rank to the Six Ministries, responsible for the research and production of weaponry. A proclamation will be issued throughout the land: anyone with skill is welcome to apply, and those whose inventions are adopted shall be richly rewarded!”

A collective gasp followed his words. This young emperor was truly formidable—he actually intended to create a seventh ministry! The ministers exchanged bewildered glances, realizing this was clearly Zhao Huan’s own innovation.

“Your Majesty, this is inadvisable. The Three Departments and Six Ministries have been the foundation of governance for generations. To suddenly establish a seventh ministry is improper,” said Li Ruoshui, the Minister of Rites. An old man of rigid loyalty and deep respect for tradition, he believed such a move broke with established custom.

Zhao Huan could not help but laugh. “Tell me, then—is what has always been done necessarily right? If that were so, why did the great Tang dynasty fall?”