22. The Two Zhangs Aid Xiangyang and Break the Siege

Take the shipping lanes from Guangdong to Siam, for example, which specialize in transporting bulky, low-value goods like tung oil. The profit margins are already razor-thin. When the imperial court levied a tax of one-twentieth, merchants were willing to brave the winds and waves; but now that the tax has been hiked to over fifty percent, who would still be willing to set sail?

Maritime trade is truly not as wildly profitable as many imagine. Regardless of the bustling crowds of ships at Quanzhou Port, the gross profit from importing rice from the Indochina Peninsula is less than fifty percent. Once taxed, it immediately becomes a losing venture. It is more accurate to say that it is not maritime trade itself that is lucrative, but rather *monopolistic* maritime trade.

Of course, if you transport a ship full of cloves, nutmeg, fennel, and frankincense from Southeast Asia to Lisbon, you will make five or six times the profit. But what if you bring a ship full of coconut oil from Southeast Asia to the Red Sea? Your gross profit will also be under fifty percent, and the slightest mishap will result in a loss. People treat maritime trade as some kind of panacea, but that is simply not the case. For the vast majority, maritime trade is just risking one’s life for meager earnings; getting rich overnight is impossible. Any business that can make one wealthy overnight is absolutely not for ordinary people.

At this moment, the Southern Song Dynasty’s collection of land taxes is effectively in a state of collapse. In particular, the eighteen million people in Sichuan have been slaughtered by the Mongols, erasing one-third of the tax base in just a decade. The Shipping Trade Office’s commercial taxes are nothing more than an empty shell, a case of draining the pond to catch the fish. It might hold for this year or the next, but it is doomed to fail; it is only a matter of time.

As for the taxes on state-monopolized goods like salt, tea, liquor, and iron, these can only be collected if there is consumption. With the tax base having been reduced by eighteen million lives, it is no wonder the system is collapsing. When the population crashes, it is like a stone hitting a dog; the dog is the one that panics. In a sense, Jia Sidao’s forced implementation of the "Measurement Law," "Public Field Law," and "Land Boundary Law" stems from these realistic needs. The Great Song is truly out of money. Nearly every tax base is showing signs of instability or total collapse, and the population is steadily dwindling. Under these circumstances, there is no way to cover the massive military and central administrative expenditures without resorting to extortion and exploitation.

Wen Tianxiang’s academic brilliance goes without saying; he is top-tier. As a drafting official in the central government, he has a clear grasp of major national affairs and speaks with great eloquence. Yet, he was surprised to find that Zhang Xun also possessed a profound understanding of these matters, knowing even more about various public expenditures and local demands than he did.

"Er-lang, your family background is truly remarkable; you are quite adept at administrative affairs," Wen Tianxiang remarked, feeling as though Zhang Xun had spent decades working in the Secretariat in Hangzhou.

"It is merely that my elder brother often discusses these things," Zhang Xun replied, using his brother as a shield—after all, Zhang Cheng had spent the previous four years at home observing mourning rites.

"Brother Erxian is a man of great talent, but he focuses on literature and lacks practical experience in the field," Wen Tianxiang noted, shaking his head. He knew Zhang Cheng well—a man who wrote excellent prose, possessed logical thinking, and carried himself with a refined air. But Zhang Cheng was not familiar with the nitty-gritty of bureaucratic paperwork; being a young master, he had always left such tasks to subordinates, never needing to handle them himself.

"Ah, I see..." Zhang Xun thought, *My good sir, you are taking this too seriously.* He had hoped to brush the matter off, but Wen Tianxiang was clearly taking him at his word.

"Haha, it is not my place to inquire about your family affairs; I was merely curious," Wen Tianxiang conceded. Since Zhang Xun did not want to disclose the source of his knowledge, there was no need to press further.

"My meager knowledge is hardly worth discussing."

"On the contrary." Wen Tianxiang noticed something different about Zhang Xun. Comparing him to Xie La, whom he had seen earlier, he felt that Xie La was a fierce warrior, fit to be sent to Xiangyang to clash with the armored cavalry of the barbarians—much like the heavy-armored axemen of the Song army, who would don fifty pounds of lamellar armor and wield mountain-cleaving axes to crush both man and horse. But in Zhang Xun, he saw the makings of a great commander. Beyond his family’s scholarly tradition, Zhang Xun possessed the physical strength to subdue tigers and capture dragons. While perhaps not as formidable as Xie La, he was more than capable.

A thousand soldiers are easy to find, but a single general is hard to come by.

After their long discussion, Zhang Xun had gained insight into the chaotic state of the court, while Wen Tianxiang marveled at the two talented brothers of the Zhang family. Both had gained something. Outside, Xie La, who had already consumed sixty steamed buns and two chickens, was finally sipping porridge to finish his meal. The entire household, including Zhang’s mother, was watching this unprecedented "eating broadcast," paying no mind to the conversation between Zhang Xun and Wen Tianxiang.

Just as they were enjoying the scene, the steward rushed in, calling for the Second Young Master. Zhang Xun apologized to Wen Tianxiang, as they were finishing their sweet soup and the meal was coming to an end.

The steward brought news: Marshal Li had ordered reinforcements for Xiangyang, and Commanders Zhang Gui and Zhang Shun, leading three thousand troops, had successfully broken through the siege and entered the city—a great victory.

What! Even Wen Tianxiang, who was sipping sweet soup in the back, was stunned. Li Tingzhi was indeed a renowned general; one battle, and the heavy siege of Xiangyang was broken. A monumental achievement.

"Tell me more, quickly, tell me the details!" Zhang Xun urged the steward to enter the room. Unfortunately, the steward explained that Li Tingzhi had only sent out a public announcement to the capital. The fast boat had already passed through Changzhou and was heading toward Wuxi. He did not have the specific details; they would likely have to send a letter to the Secretariat Advisor on the front lines to find out more.

Zhang Xun and Wen Tianxiang sighed in unison. If the relief of Xiangyang could hold, the Great Song might linger for another twenty or thirty years, and Zhang Xun would not have to become a traitorous official who would go down in infamy. Being able to protect his home and live comfortably—that would be perfect.

Wen Tianxiang, concerned with the political and military situation, was anxious for specific news. Especially as this was a rare victory amidst a sea of reports of defeat, the lack of clarity felt like ten thousand ants crawling over his heart.

Seeing Wen Tianxiang’s urgency, Zhang Xun immediately ordered someone to go into the city to find a copy of the victory report. Since the fast boat had passed through the city, the news was meant to be publicized, and surely someone had transcribed it for distribution.

The markets outside the city in Jiangdong operated day and night, long ignoring the curfew. Sending someone now, there would be plenty of people at the gates.

After waiting for nearly an hour, the servant sent to the city returned. He complained that the peddlers selling copies of the report were asking for one or two hundred coins—they had truly gone mad with greed.

It was a common occurrence; if people wanted to read it, someone would surely transcribe and sell it. They were selling the advantage of time; by tomorrow morning, the price would likely drop to ten or twenty coins.

Zhang Xun unfolded the report. It was true: Commanders Zhang Gui and Zhang Shun had fought day and night for over one hundred and twenty miles, hacking their way through the heavy encirclement from the Han River to reach Xiangyang and enter the city.