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Chapter 1173: This Era Has Never Been Gentle
🕑 Added 2024-12-08 05:59:19 +0000 UTCJia Xu and Li You both stopped in their tracks, staring at Chen Xi, puzzled as to why he seemed so certain.
"Don’t worry, I had already made preparations in this regard when I first established Tai Shan. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have implemented those welfare systems," Chen Xi said with a smile. He wasn’t going to reveal the specifics of his preparations—it wasn’t yet the right time.
Probably no one truly understood the immense profits hidden in sugar, tea, and porcelain. Similarly, no one had given much thought to how many cattle and horses the northern pastures could support. These simple things were often overlooked.
But Chen Xi had seen the immense power of these industries throughout history. Each one generated profits calculated not in copper coins but in silver… and a lot of it.
As for how much those silver profits would convert to copper coins, Chen Xi wasn’t sure. But one thing was clear—the revenue would far surpass the total tax income of the Han Dynasty by a wide margin.
Chen Xi didn’t want to say this aloud. He had already begun to realize that his grip on this era wasn’t as effortless as it once had been. Although many believed that Chen Xi shone like the moon, casting its light over the era and dimming the brilliance of others, Chen Xi himself increasingly felt that he was struggling to keep control.
To be clear, it wasn’t that he couldn’t defeat or kill his opponents. The question was more about how much it would cost to do so.
What Chen Xi meant by "losing control" was that he could no longer make everyone follow the script he had set out. Sun Ce was still manageable, but Cao Cao was always scheming for something bigger, to the point that it was wearing on Chen Xi’s patience. And then Lü Bu had recently ascended to immortality, removing yet another piece from the board.
The situation in the Central Plains had been manipulated into a deadlock by Liu Bei and Yuan Shao. Lü Bu had no choice but to head to Bingzhou, where he would either die or inherit his past debts. Chen Gong wasn’t a fool and would undoubtedly exploit any moral high ground, and once Lü Bu started fighting the northern barbarians, there was no returning to the Central Plains.
Humans are like this—before stepping into Bingzhou, Lü Bu might have remained ruthless. But once he saw the desolation and suffering there, there was no way he could stay indifferent.
There is something called guilt, and something else called responsibility. As long as Lü Bu didn’t return to Bingzhou, it didn’t matter. But once he did, he couldn’t leave without offering a resolution. That’s human nature.
This is also why Chen Xi, knowing that Tian Yu was in the north, hadn’t summoned him back. While Gongsun Zan may have perished in history, one thing was certain—he never went easy on the northern barbarians.
Similarly, Li Jue and Guo Si were scoundrels, but when given a chance for redemption, they wouldn’t let it slip away. It’s human nature.
This was the confidence with which Chen Xi could manipulate and guide the civil and military officials of his time. Everyone had their own desires and goals, and Chen Xi used these to steer them down a singular path.
Liu Bei needed to restore the Han Dynasty, to surpass his ancestors, and to achieve that, he needed the strength of his ministers. Cao Cao, in a weaker position, had to play the game by Liu Bei’s rules. Sun Ce wanted to prove himself and honor Yuan Shu’s trust, so he couldn’t break the rules that Yuan Shu had set.
Li You wanted to open doors of opportunity for the common people and bring prosperity to the Central Plains. Jia Xu sought comfort and stability. Liu Ye wanted to elevate Liu Bei’s status. Fa Zheng sought to prove his worth, and Guo Jia wanted to demonstrate that commoners could also achieve greatness.
These goals seemed unrelated, but Chen Xi had carefully traced the threads that connected them, using this knowledge to unite these seemingly opposing intellectuals under a common strategy.
It wasn’t because these people were exceptionally virtuous, nor because they were extraordinarily wise. Rather, it was because the path Chen Xi had laid out allowed them to achieve their own goals more effectively.
Yuan Shao and Yuan Shu both wanted to fulfill the Yuan family’s ambition of conquering all under heaven. However, Yuan Shao, being born of a concubine, was more compassionate toward the common people, while Yuan Shu, as the legitimate son of a noble family, saw this goal as inevitable and set his sights even further.
Regardless of whether their methods were correct, no rational person would consider themselves the embodiment of evil—unless they were insane. Aside from misjudging reality, none of these confident individuals believed they were doing anything wrong.
Yuan Shu, for example, didn’t think there was anything wrong with restoring the aristocracy’s old ways. He never acted for the benefit of the people but rather to clear away the "rubbish." In his worldview, the common people didn’t even factor into the equation.
This is the difference in values between eras. In this era, perhaps only a handful of people were truly fighting for the common folk—Chen Xi was one of them, Liu Bei was another, and maybe Zhang Zhongjing too. As for the rest, Chen Xi couldn’t say for sure.
Li You fought for the commoners, but commoners didn’t equate to the general populace. Chen Xi had realized this long ago. Even when Li You advocated for widespread education, he was merely relieved that some commoners could now read books.
Li You knew very well that most peasants couldn’t afford to raise a scholar, even if they wanted to, which is why Chen Xi had initially chosen a system of partial free education, with meals provided.
Li Jue reopened the Zhengguo Canal and the Liufu Canal not for the people but for himself. The fact that the people benefited was just a side effect.
Lü Bu fought the northern barbarians out of a mix of guilt and shame. How much of it was for the common people? Who knows? But it didn’t matter—as long as the people benefited.
The officials across the land mainly fought for their own interests, and Chen Xi had no solution to change that. But as long as the people benefited, the underlying motivation didn’t matter.
The late Han period wasn’t a time where people acted for the sake of the common folk. Chen Xi had realized this early on. Asking the powerful to treat the people kindly wasn’t going to work—moral values alone wouldn’t be enough.
The ancient saying, "Punishments don’t reach the nobility, and etiquette doesn’t reach the commoners," could be interpreted to mean that the commoners didn’t deserve the same respect, or that they weren’t held to the same standards of propriety. Either way, it indicated that the commoners weren’t seen as the same species.
When even sages taught this way, expecting the aristocracy to treat the common folk as equals was unrealistic. Chen Xi didn’t harbor such hopes.
But that didn’t matter. He had his own ways.
If the noble families were unwilling to do what was right, Chen Xi would coerce them into it. The so-called "gentle warmth" of the Han’s waning years was something Chen Xi had forced upon them with overwhelming strength. Giving the commoners a bit of relief was better than facing disaster themselves, and besides, Chen Xi would compensate them.
Even when Cao Cao admitted his fault for the massacre of Xuzhou, it was because circumstances forced him to. If Cao Cao had been the Duke of Wei, ruling over ten provinces, would he have ever apologized?
Internally, Chen Xi relied on ideals to unite his allies and resolve internal conflicts. Externally, he relied on their collective strength to draft new rules and force everyone to play by them. But that was as far as he could go—it was difficult to manage the details any more precisely than that.
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