Chapter 42: The Return of the King (Top Twelve)

June 15th was a fine day.

After being lashed by two consecutive torrential rainstorms, the sun finally reined in its temper, abandoning any attempt to turn the populace into dried human jerky.

Early in the morning, people stepped out of their homes to greet a brand-new day.

Officials went to work as usual, while students wished they could melt into their beds to savor a few more moments of rare coolness. Laborers felt a flicker of relief that they would not have to toil under the blistering heat.

Urged on by the school proctor, Imperial Academy student Chen Zhihe hurriedly swallowed his steamed bun and trotted into the classroom.

Today was the day Lü Dalin, direct disciple of the great Guanzhong Neo-Confucian master Zhang Zai, was scheduled to lecture. The classroom was already packed with people eager to hear the profound insights of the Guan School.

"Brother Xiuyuan, have you eaten? I still have a bun here."

"Eat what? It's about to start."

"Why are you cutting it so close? I heard Councilor Wang is presiding over the imperial examination topics this year to recruit talent for the New Policies. This Lü Dalin has always advocated for returning to antiquity, which completely aligns with Councilor Wang's reform agenda. If you miss this, you might fall outside the top three ranks."

The two whispered to each other while those nearby were equally restless. The buzzing noise in the classroom made the paper windows vibrate.

The proctor presiding over the lecture waited and waited, but Lü Dalin still failed to appear. With no other option, he had to turn back and invite him personally.

When he reached the study lounge for Imperial Academy officials, he found Lü Dalin engrossed in reading a single sheet of an official gazette.

"Ahem... Well... Yushu? It's time, shall we—"

Lü Dalin did not look up, seeming completely absorbed in the article, which left the proctor bewildered.

How could a master's disciple be so captivated by petty gossip? The famous Four Sentences of Hengqu were still ringing in his ears—with such meager composure, how could one establish a heart for the universe?

Stepping closer and walking around behind Lü Dalin, the proctor noticed the printing of the gazette looked familiar; it seemed Su Zizhan had used the exact same format for his previous publications.

"Tea and the Empire"—what kind of title was that? A bit too straightforward.

Reading on, the first point claimed that tea was one of the six fine steeds pulling the national carriage.

The operation of a state takes taxation as its primary foundation.

The imperial court enforced a state monopoly system where salt, spices, tea, niter, and the like fell under controlled commodities.

Tea contributed one million two hundred thousand guan in taxes to the state annually and provided employment for over three million people.

Calculated against the tax revenues of the first year of Xining under the Song Dynasty, the tea tax was practically negligible: one million guan compared to forty-six million guan was merely a drop in the ocean.

However, the article quickly pointed out that the calculation of the Song Dynasty's tea tax was flawed.

A single leaf of tea, from cultivation to final consumption, was subject to taxation at least seven times throughout the entire process, with monopoly duties being only one of them.

According to the author's calculations, the ultimate scale of the Song Dynasty's tea tax should be around ten million guan, except that the rest was collected and utilized by local prefectures and commanderies.

Fuel, rice, oil, salt, sauce, vinegar, and tea—as the basic lifestyle of the Song people, tea was one of the driving forces propelling the empire forward.

Next, the article listed the amounts and taxation difficulties of other tax categories.

Through comparative analysis, it concluded that among all monopoly commodities, the tea tax possessed the greatest potential.

As long as the state-managed exchange system was restarted, the total tea tax could be raised to at least six million guan.

Since tea taxation was so vital, what beneficial work had the empire done for the development of the tea industry?

Protection of tea strains—none. Improvement of tea seedlings—none. Construction and maintenance of tea farms and gardens—none. Innovation and promotion of tea-processing techniques—none. ...

In conclusion, the imperial court had only ever taken, without ever giving the tea industry the attention it deserved.

Another pile of data and arguments followed, dazzling the reader's eyes.

Then, the article compared the longitudinal perspective of history with the latitudinal perspective of northern and southern economies, using per capita output as a metric to derive a conclusion:

"The tea industry is the foundational pillar of the founding of the Song Dynasty!"

Detailed data was listed to analyze the economic composition of the southern states from the end of the Han dynasty through the Sui and Tang dynasties down to the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period, providing thorough proof.

Tea was indeed an indispensable force supporting the operation of an empire.

Furthermore, tea cultivation did not occupy fertile land, nor did it require strong laborers or advanced technology; it was simply a treasure bestowed upon China by the heavens.

Compared to grain, metals, salt, and silk fabrics, tea was not an absolute necessity, making it all the more likely to become an industry capable of influencing a nation's rise and fall.

According to the article's statistics, in the Song Dynasty's annual foreign trade in recent years, maritime trade accounted for seven hundred thousand catties of tea; trade with the Liao Dynasty, Western Xia, Tubo, and Dali totaled two million catties; and trade with nearby nations such as Japan, Goryeo, and Ryukyu amounted to three hundred thousand catties.

In other words, the imperial court used women and a small number of able-bodied youths in exchange for precious foreign goods for the Song Dynasty.

These included medicinal materials, paper, livestock, cattle and sheep skins, horns, precious gems, and other items urgently needed by the imperial court.

The vitality of the Song Dynasty was built precisely upon waste-to-treasure industries such as tea and porcelain.

Therefore, the Song Dynasty should encourage and protect the tea industry, and court officials should value and pay attention to its development. If tea flourishes, the Song Dynasty flourishes.

While the article's viewpoints were sharp, its argumentative style was even sharper.

In Confucian education, to prove a point, one had to start from the classics, seeking annotations and foundational principles from the wisdom of ancient sages. Take Zhang Zai, for instance; all his learning would invariably extend back to the *Book of Changes*, establishing a politically correct foundation for his views.

Yet this article did not mention a single sentence of the Four Books and Five Classics from beginning to end, used no *Book of Changes*, and contained no famous quotes or maxims from celebrated scholars or high ministers.

Even the specific cases in the text were deliberately stripped of their policy backgrounds.

Fresh, purely fresh, unquestionably fresh.

If it were an essay for the imperial examinations, this would undoubtedly be a rejected piece. Yet in reality, what the author wrote was solid, rigorous, and flawless.

Lü Dalin was shaken to his core, feeling as if his mind's orifices had suddenly opened, giving him the illusion of receiving supreme enlightenment.

"To establish a heart for the universe; to secure life and fortune for the people; to continue the lost teachings of past sages; to create eternal peace for all under heaven."

His teacher's words had actually been realized by an outsider. Wasn't this method of scholarship the absolute best application of learning to practical statecraft, centering on the public affairs of the world?

No, he had to go see his teacher immediately. After decades of studying the Guan School, he had finally found a practicable path.

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In Bianjing City, gasps of admiration echoed in more than one place: "Splendid! Marvelous!"

To think someone could explain the ins and outs of an industry in such a straightforward manner, and write about the relationship between a commodity and the nation's destiny.

Who on earth were Li Changqing and Qian Weiming? Were they officials of the Three Offices, or students of the Imperial Academy?

Zhao Xu, Sima Guang, Ouyang Xiu, Wen Yanbo, Wang Anshi, and a host of others who steered the destiny of the state were shocked once again.

Scholars of the past studied either human character and morality or the relationship between heaven and man; there had virtually never been this kind of "practical learning."

The previous piece was Su Shi's *A Study on Land*, and the one before that was Qian Weiming's *Dynasties and Agriculture*.

Was this a new school of learning?

For thousands of years, someone had finally begun to study practical learning, starting to examine the profound propositions of national development in a way ordinary people could understand.

A prime minister of such caliber could rival Guan Zhong and Le Yi.

Zhao Xu could not help thinking with smug pride that he must be truly fortunate to have encountered a new era. This Li Changqing was indeed worthy of his moniker as Immortal Li.

With talents capable of serving as prime ministers emerging one after another, wasn't this an auspicious omen? Wasn't it proof that he, Zhao Xu, had won the approval of the heavens?

Soon, Li Changqing's name climbed to the top of Bianjing's trending topics once more.

That prodigal son had returned. Li Changqing was Immortal Li, President Li, Chairman Li.

The king had returned!