IDWBE -Chapter 368 The Salt Tax

Lin Yi had never taken action against these people, partly because his reach was not long enough, and partly because he had to consider maintaining local stability.

According to his father’s “brilliant” tax system, the Ministry of Revenue handled all imperial expenditures, while the Inner Treasury was responsible for paying the military officers—supposedly to win their loyalty.

As detestable as these tax eunuchs were, they were still the ones ensuring that garrison troops, guards, and banner soldiers across the provinces received their salaries on time. Even Pang Geng, the Commander-in-Chief of Jinling City, who had already surrendered to him, was still being paid by the Inner Transport Treasury of Wuzhou and Yong’an.

Lin Yi feared that if he suddenly executed all these tax supervisors, there would be no one left to manage the accounts. Financial chaos would ensue, and if local officials and soldiers failed to receive their pay, wouldn’t they rebel?

Rebellion didn’t frighten him. He simply hated the trouble.

Moreover, the Great Liang Empire had decayed to such an extent that patching it up on its old foundations was futile.

What he needed was to reconstruct an integrated financial system—one that connected departments with departments, the military with civil administration, and local governments with the central authority.

This was a complex systemic undertaking, not something that could be accomplished overnight.

So unless disaster was imminent, he was in no rush.

As long as no one starved, that was good enough.

“Salt tax revenues account for half the empire’s income. Any gain or loss directly affects national finance,” Gan Mao said cautiously. “This old minister suggests abolishing the kaizhong system to strengthen the state treasury.”

“Abolish the kaizhong system?”

Lin Yi didn’t know much about it. For years he had been little more than a salted fish—indifferent to everything except money.

Unlike in the internet age, where even without actively searching one would be bombarded with policy news and updates, here one could easily remain ignorant.

“The zhongyan system—soldiers guard the frontier, civilians supply provisions, with salt serving as the pivot. Hence the term kaizhong,” Gan Mao explained patiently when he saw the prince’s confusion. “At the founding of the dynasty, frontier troops lacked grain. The Taizu Emperor implemented a policy allowing merchants to exchange transported grain for salt certificates. As long as they delivered grain to the border, they could receive salt licenses. The profits were enormous, and merchants flocked to it. It has been in effect for over two hundred years. Now corruption abounds, and salt tax revenues have declined year by year. Last year they were less than two million taels!”

“I see,” Lin Yi said with a smile. “So it’s essentially a supplier system. The frontier isn’t short of grain anymore, so canceling it won’t hurt. Go find He Jixiang, Gong Xiang, and Qi Yong. Discuss it together. And those salt officials should be reassigned. The capable ones should be promoted. As for the corrupt—confiscate their property to fund the army.”

He immediately thought of Prince Jin’s maternal relative, Han Wenhu. The Salt Transport Commissioner was wealthy indeed.

“Your Highness…” Gan Mao could hardly believe it.

Just like that?

No discussion at court?

Did this mean the prince trusted him? Or was the prince simply decisive and wise?

Truly, he had only mentioned it casually to avoid being accused of occupying his post without contributing. He had never expected the prince to agree.

And to agree so readily!

After all, the profits from salt were immense, entangled with countless interests. Emperors throughout history had not dared to touch it lightly, lest they shake the foundations of the state.

At that moment, Gan Mao felt somewhat at a loss. If word spread that he had proposed abolishing the kaizhong system, would he be reviled by all under heaven?

He felt that in the future he would have to bring more guards when going out. Otherwise, he might truly be beaten to death in the streets.

Cutting off someone’s source of wealth was like killing their parents.

“Don’t just stand there. Go quickly,” Lin Yi urged impatiently. “Taking money out of other people’s pockets and putting it into our own—that’s the proper business.”

“Your Highness speaks truly,” Gan Mao replied with a wry smile.

He hurriedly withdrew.

As soon as he descended the city wall, he saw Wei Yishan standing in the barbican, golden pearl and red plume atop his helmet. Beside him was Liu Kan, Commander of the Banner Guard.

“Lord Gan,” Liu Kan greeted him politely with cupped hands.

“So it is General Liu,” Gan Mao returned the courtesy, glancing at Wei Yishan behind him. “This general looks unfamiliar.”

“This is General Wei Yishan, newly appointed Commander of the Capital Camp,” Liu Kan said with a smile. “General Wei, this is Minister Gan of the Ministry of Revenue. We’ll be relying on him for provisions in the future.”

Wei Yishan cupped his hands. “Lord Gan.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Gan Mao replied modestly.

After a few pleasantries, he boarded his sedan chair and departed.

Once he was gone, Liu Kan turned to Wei Yishan. “These old fellows aren’t good people. But we lack manpower, so we have to keep them for now. Be cautious—don’t let them take advantage of you.”

Wei Yishan snorted. “Rest assured. The prince once said: with a broadsword in hand, the world is mine. All schemes and tricks crumble before absolute force. Let those old scholars scheme as they will. I refuse to believe they can escape our grasp.”

“They’re masters of sowing discord. I’m only afraid they’ll shift the blame onto you. The current situation is complex—any small mistake would be more than we could bear,” Liu Kan said with a smile. “Better to be careful.”

“Thank you,” Wei Yishan replied, hand resting on his sword hilt. “But the prince is no fool. He won’t easily trust their petty tricks. Those who plot against others may well be the ones who suffer in the end.”

Liu Kan nodded. “True enough.”

They had both graduated with excellent results from Baiyun City No. 1 Middle School. In primary school, they had little contact with the prince, but in middle school he had often taught them personally.

His lessons were clear, humorous, and deeply insightful. Much of what they understood today came from him.

He was their mentor—how could a teacher not trust his own students?

“Third Great-Uncle, you’ve come too?”

As they spoke, a loud shout came from outside the city gate. Turning around, they saw Deng Ke, the manager of the carpentry workshop, entering from outside the city.

Behind him stretched a long convoy. After giving a few instructions for them to continue ahead, he scurried over to Wei Yishan, bowing and scraping, then straightened and saluted Liu Kan respectfully.

“Cough, cough…” Wei Yishan said helplessly. “With so many people around, must you shout like that? It’s embarrassing.”

An old man past fifty calling him “Third Great-Uncle”—he felt he had no face left.

“Third Great-Uncle, if I don’t call you that, what should I call you?” Deng Ke said, aggrieved. “You are my Third Great-Uncle!”

“You two relatives take your time chatting. I have duties to attend to,” Liu Kan said with a laugh. “Farewell.”

Wei Yishan sighed at Deng Ke. “Just call me by my name. It’s better not to use ‘Great-Uncle.’”

Though he was young, his mother, Madam Deng, and Deng Ke’s grandfather had been full siblings. That alone elevated his generational rank.

Among the Deng clan, those of his mother’s generation were mostly deceased. Many in the Deng family now had to call him “Uncle” or even “Great-Uncle,” regardless of age.

In the past, they avoided him to spare themselves embarrassment.

Now, however, they constantly hovered around him—impossible to drive away.