Chapter 29: Lone Tyrant and Public Enemy

Chapter 29: The Tyrant and the Thief

It was the second autumn of the Era of Unified Governance.

Qin Yuan sighed. Not long ago, Wei Ting had issued two decrees. The first changed the name of the state to "Zhong" (The Collective), and the second declared the previous year—the year the Hun Dynasty fell—to be the first year of the Era of Unified Governance.

Whether it was the name "Zhong" or the era "Unified Governance," both conveyed a single message: the world belonged to the gentry, not to any single individual. Even if Wei Ting possessed an army of 320,000 men, and even if his achievements were peerless, he still had to answer to the gentry. Without the approval of the gentry, no decree could be issued, nor could even the smallest expenditure be authorized. It was essentially an expansion of the power civil officials previously held to veto imperial edicts.

Wei Ting would surely not tolerate this, and the expansion of his military was proof enough. Only last year, his forces had numbered a mere 150,000.

"He’s here!"

A roar like crashing waves and howling winds erupted. Qin Yuan was currently outside Tong City, the gateway to the capital, waiting with the crowds to welcome Song Yufu, the leader appointed by the southern gentry.

Song Yufu had not always been called "Song Yufu." In his younger years, he had been a rebel. Once, when his plans were leaked and he was fleeing to the riverbank, nearly cornered by government troops, an old fisherman emerged from the reeds in a small boat and saved his life. Grateful for this second chance at existence, he changed his name to Song Yufu—"Song, the Fisherman."

As these thoughts turned in Qin Yuan's mind, Song Yufu stepped down from his carriage. He looked better than Qin Yuan had imagined. His brow possessed a vibrancy rarely seen in scholars, and his gait was steady, indicating he was well-versed in martial arts. He moved through the crowd, exchanging greetings with the local gentry who stepped forward to pay their respects.

What Song Yufu said was quite intriguing: that the gentry of the world were all one family, and they must stand together against a common enemy. They must never let another tyrant and thief appear. Considering this was Wei Ting’s stronghold, one could only say that Song Yufu was remarkably courageous.

Song Yufu’s words spread like wildfire among the gentry, and the cheering grew even louder. One wondered what Wei Ting would think if he saw this scene.

Soon, the radiant Song Yufu arrived before the nobody, Qin Yuan.

"Leader Song, I am a chronicler from the Office of the Left Historian. According to protocol, I must record your words and deeds for the official annals. Might you have a moment to spare?" Qin Yuan asked with a bow.

Song Yufu had initially taken Qin Yuan for an ordinary member of the gentry, but upon hearing this, his expression turned solemn. "The chronicler may wait at the Hall of Assembly; I shall be there shortly."

The Hall of Assembly was a place reserved for receiving officials. It occupied three hectares and contained 376 rooms—a luxury indeed in a capital where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold.

"I take my leave, then." Qin Yuan turned and left without hesitation. Riding his donkey, he reached the Hall of Assembly on East Prince Street in no time.

Finding Song Yufu’s quarters, Qin Yuan waited by the entrance.

"Hmm?" Qin Yuan’s ears twitched. Recently, he had been consciously training his hearing, preparing for the future cultivation of "Heaven-Sent Ears." While spiritual sense was powerful, it was active and easily detected; by contrast, the passive, radar-like nature of the Heaven-Sent Ears was better suited for someone who preferred to keep a low profile.

"Three hidden to the east, five to the west, four to the north. Are they monitoring Song Yufu, or are they up to something else?"

Qin Yuan suddenly felt the urge to leave. He wanted no part in the conflict between the gentry and Wei Ting. Yet, leaving now seemed impossible; arriving and departing without doing anything would surely invite suspicion from those watching.

*Fine, I’ll ask my questions and then leave.*

After waiting for about an hour, Song Yufu arrived, still wearing that same breezy, pleasant smile. "Chronicler, please, come in."

Qin Yuan followed him inside. The room was spacious, and its furnishings were on par with the finest inns—after all, it was meant for the masters, and they could not be expected to suffer any discomfort.

"This is Tieguanyin I brought from the south. Please, have a taste." Song Yufu poured the tea himself. His technique was clumsy; clearly, he was not a connoisseur. That made sense—a fugitive who spent his life inciting rebellions, living from one day to the next, could hardly have the leisure to study the art of tea.

Qin Yuan rose and accepted the cup with both hands. He took a sip, but it tasted no different to him than any other tea. Perhaps that was because, in his eyes, tea existed only to quench one's thirst.

"Leader Song, may we begin?" Qin Yuan just wanted to get out of there. The longer he lingered, the greater the chance of being dragged into unnecessary trouble.

"Yes." Song Yufu sat up straight, his demeanor shifting to one of gravity. It was clear he took this task seriously.

"I heard the name 'Song Yufu' comes from the time an old fisherman saved your life?" When dealing with such subjects, one usually needed to warm up before the main topic to avoid appearing too abrupt.

"That is true." Song Yufu’s expression darkened. "Not long ago, I returned home to repay that old man, but he had already passed away."

Seeing this, Qin Yuan did not press further. It was the bare minimum of respect. After a while, Song Yufu smiled again. "My apologies. Please, continue, Chronicler."

"Just now in Tong City, you mentioned guarding against the tyrant and the thief. How do you intend to do that?" Qin Yuan moved to the main topic. The question was bold, but he had no choice; that was his job. If he only recorded trivialities, his position would be worthless. Compared to those below, the people at the very top were the ones who truly wanted to see the truth.

"It is quite simple: all power shall belong to the Gentry Assembly," Song Yufu replied without hesitation. It was clear this answer had long been firmly set in his mind.

"Everything?" Qin Yuan asked as he scribbled down the notes.

"Everything." The answer was firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

*What a massive appetite,* Qin Yuan thought to himself. Before long, Wei Ting would surely flip the table. This Song Yufu might well end up dying in the capital. He needed to keep his distance, lest he be splattered with the man's blood.

"If power belongs to the gentry, who will stop the gentry from becoming tyrants themselves?" Qin Yuan dared to ask this because he knew that Song Yufu was not actually on the same side as the powerful, wealthy gentry who controlled the Assembly. To put it simply, Song Yufu and his ilk were the ones planting the trees, while the ones controlling the Assembly were the ones waiting to pick the fruit.

"A system of recommendation."

Qin Yuan was familiar with this term; it was merely another name for the old civil service selection system. In plain terms, it handed the power of selecting officials to local authorities.

"My system of recommendation is different from the past. Any scholar with at least twelve acres of low-grade farmland or assets worth twenty-four taels of silver may participate in the recommendations. I call them 'Electors'."

In this way, the power base would shift to small landowners, rich peasants, wealthier middle-class farmers, and small merchants. (In recent decades, it was not uncommon for Hun Dynasty scholars to engage openly in business; there had even been a top scholar who went into trade a few years prior.)

After jotting this down, Qin Yuan frowned. "I fear there will be quite a few gentry members who oppose this." If he were a member of the gentry, he would certainly never agree to it. Why should he, with his wealth and influence, be kept in check by a bunch of small landowners and merchants?

Song Yufu smiled, his chin lifted slightly. "The more the gentry oppose it, the more it proves that we are doing the right thing."

Remembering something, he withdrew his smile, his eyes filled with a trace of sorrow. "Chronicler, have you ever met Lin Yidong?"