Chapter 39: Investigation (Climbing the Rankings)

Everyone knows the bitterness of publishing low-quality academic papers, but few understand the sheer agony required to write a truly serious one. Seven hundred years before the birth of the first work on political economy, "The Wealth of Nations," humanity had yet to establish a framework for analyzing socio-economic phenomena. Business, trade, making a living, and family enterprise—these were the extent of the ancients' understanding of the economy. Therefore, the first pioneers to tread upon the field of political economy were destined to suffer profound intellectual turmoil.

Kong Tuo was a native of Jincheng in Hedong, hailing from the most prominent branch of the Kong family. His clan had been scholars for generations, specializing in the "Spring and Autumn Annals" and the "Analects," while also studying official histories; in Jinyang, they were considered the pinnacle of the scholarly elite. Since arriving in Bianjing last year to await the autumn imperial examinations, he had felt that the world was becoming increasingly surreal.

This was the capital, a gathering place for thousands of elites, yet he felt no sense of solemnity, majesty, or the revered tradition of rites. The people of Bianjing were too "bizarre"—not just in their attire and customs, but in their very thoughts. Here, there was no talk of "subduing the self and returning to ritual," no strict adherence to the Three Bonds and Five Constants, and no veneration for the paragons of the ages. Everyone was scrambling, fighting for a chance to become a sage.

He felt the people of Bianjing had gone mad. Could it be that if the world produced one Fan Wenzheng, there must also be a Wang Anshi, and perhaps a Su Zizhan to follow? If everyone wanted to be a sage, who would be left to be an ordinary person, the footnote to a sage's greatness? After conversing with the disciples of Zhang Zai, he finally understood the philosophy of the Central Plains: when it comes to daily life, why listen to so many grand principles? No wonder every scholar longed to be a sage; if you weren't, nobody would pay you any mind.

Fortunately, relying on the prestige of the Kong family, he had made many friends at the Imperial Academy. In short, he had successfully infiltrated the ranks as a researcher for the Weekly Journal. This "New Learning" seemed like a good thing—after all, in a group of three, there must be a teacher to be found.

He changed into summer attire, a short-sleeved, trouser-and-jacket set designed by the locals of Bianjing. The weather was stifling, so he also carried an umbrella. He had intended to bring his servant, but since his companion was alone, he felt it would be inappropriate to show favoritism. The two met up and headed toward the Office of Monopoly under the Court of Imperial Treasury. Carrying an official letter issued by Editor-in-Chief Qian, he wasn't sure if it would be effective, fearing they might be kicked out for lacking formal official status.

The Court of Imperial Treasury was located on the street of the same name, a stretch seven hundred paces long, lined with various exchange shops. Before entering, he regretted his attire, having prioritized comfort over decorum and worrying he might be reprimanded for being improperly dressed. Upon presenting the letter for verification, they were led into an office to meet a recording clerk. Fortunately, this man was also dressed in the "bizarre" style, though he had draped a light green gauze robe over his shoulders to maintain a semblance of dignity.

"Is this an arrangement by the Censorate or Minister Sima?"

His companion, the lead writer, nodded and took the opportunity to identify his lineage: he was a descendant of Li Chongjin and the younger brother of Li Maoran.

The clerk seemed quite startled and hurriedly rose from his seat to treat them with great respect. Li Chongjin? Was he not a high official of the previous dynasty? Why did public servants not avoid mentioning such names, and why show such deference? Kong Tuo was baffled, but that did not stop him from enjoying the convenience.

The Office of Monopoly was under the Court of Imperial Treasury, which in turn was under the Three Departments, with the Ministry of Revenue as the ultimate superior. The records accumulated since the Northern Wei dynasty were vast enough to fill an ox-cart—let alone reading them, simply finding specific documents could take half a day. The two men had to run through the archives, and their excess weight now became a heavy burden.

"Found... found it! The records from the reign of Emperor Wu of Han are here, and the copies are quite clear. Alright, you handle the copying, I'll do the running."

After less than an hour, the two collapsed in exhaustion. It was unbearable; the heat was stifling, as if they were trapped inside a steamer. Sweat poured from every pore, making them look like snowmen melting in spring. "Did you bring money? Let's cough it up!" Kong Tuo gave up. He decided to pay the local handymen to do the legwork; he simply couldn't move anymore.

Their lives were hard, but others were faring no better. This was their first time conducting social science research, and everyone was suffering from a headache. This was not the digital age, nor were there specialized statistical institutions. To obtain accurate data, one had to verify everything item by item.

The Monopoly Office was manageable, but those researching tea production areas and tax changes had to visit every large tea merchant one by one. They were the ones who knew best whether the tea was good and whether the taxes were heavy. A single leaf: the tea plantation was taxed; the picked and processed leaves were taxed when they left the farm; another tax was paid upon entering the Monopoly Office; if it bypassed the Transport Commission and was shipped privately, it faced various road and checkpoint taxes; when it reached the large wholesalers for distribution, another tax was levied; and when it reached the retail tea shops, yet another. Though it was just a handful of leaves, it supported over a million people, from top to bottom.

From south to north, from Guangnan West Circuit to Fujian Circuit, from Liangzhe Circuit to Chengdu Prefecture Circuit, there were over five thousand registered tea plantations supplying forty-seven famous origins. Each place had different varieties, processing methods, markets, and local tax rates. Trying to calculate the total annual tax revenue of the tea industry was as difficult as ascending to heaven. The two responsible for this data were on the verge of a breakdown; such granular detail would require a dictionary just to compile into a book.

What to do? Quit? That would make them a laughingstock, and they would never rise in the capital's circles again.

Perhaps they should go ask the President; after all, he spoke with such confidence at the group meetings—he must have a way. Returning to the newspaper office, dejected, they saw six out of ten members had already returned, all seeking special guidance. Their proud heads finally bowed; fame was not easily won. They had thought an article was just a few thousand words, written in a flourish. Who would have thought that economic writing was so arduous? It was better to honestly serve as subordinates to the Editor-in-Chief and the President.

Qian Weiming wore a mysterious smile, feeling ecstatic inside. Little ones, you finally realize your own limitations, don't you? Don't think just anyone can write an article. All of you, stay humble and stay in line. Following the training Li Changan had given him back in the day, he began to instruct them point by point. Research requires a framework. It’s not just about knowing where the data is, but knowing how to cross-verify and how to distinguish truth from falsehood. If there is nothing ready-made in this world, then you must create it yourself. Table-based management, multi-channel collection, industry-expert consultation, and scientific synthesis.

On the first day of research, the class was in session!

Li Changan and Guangxiao went to the Kaifeng Prefectural Office to congratulate Su Shi on his new post. Su Shi's official rank was not high, but his authority was immense—he was effectively the acting mayor of the capital. The Kaifeng Prefectural Office occupied a space slightly smaller than the Six Ministries, covering about thirty acres, with a staff of 2,452 officials and clerks. Su Shi, that fellow, had brought along 120 unpaid assistants.

Perhaps the Kaifeng office had seen big shots parachuted in, but they had never seen a young man bring a team to seize power. Fortunately, he hadn't started yet, only dividing them into groups to organize data. When Li Changan arrived, Su Shi laughed heartily; the plan was succeeding, and the two were about to stir up a storm.

"Come, let me show you something."

He was led by Su Shi to the storage room, where all sorts of torture implements were kept, nearly frightening him into running away. Was there something wrong with Su Shi?

"Look, I told you there were no guillotines! That was all hearsay!"

Damn, I thought you were going to use me to establish your authority! You scared the life out of me.

"In all seriousness, I came today to congratulate you, and secondly, I want the household registration ledgers of the Kaifeng Prefecture to see exactly how many 'gods and spirits' are lurking in this city of Bianjing."