Chapter 77
Chapter 77
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 77
Chapter Title: Letter to the Joseon People (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Of course, Kim Unhaeng wasn't underestimating the intelligence of the Joseon people to the point of thinking he'd actually trick them into buying acorns as chestnuts, just as Yi Ik had joked.
The essence was spot on, but the approach was practically the opposite.
Kim Unhaeng needed to "strictly distinguish" not just chestnuts and acorns, but all sorts of autumn produce—grains, fish, and mountain goods.
Into as many categories as possible, if he could.
The Chuseok market boom naturally hit not only the courier service but also the Fair Trade Supervisory Office under his control. More precisely, this was the origin point.
The operational structure of the Fair Trade Supervisory Office, manipulated through my puppet Hong Daeyong of the Ministry of Taxation, was far from complicated.
Since Joseon wasn't some end-of-century apocalyptic free-for-all like England, the fee percentages for each item category that the Fair Trade Offices could collect were meticulously set by law.
So, things like slapping a one-nyang fee on three-pun'nya cheap fish were impossible. Even Yeongjo, who couldn't tolerate the failure of the uniform tax law, (for now) kept a close eye on discipline.
Therefore, the way for the Fair Trade Offices to maximize revenue was through quantitative expansion—namely, comprehensively monitoring every single transaction without gaps.
Up north, there's a succinct term for this: "trade oversight map."
To create this trade oversight map required plenty of political operatives—no, underlings. But too many, and the overhead would exceed the profits, so it naturally balanced at a certain level.
Yet, present-day Joseon wasn't a one-party dictatorship like that place up north. Factions abounded in the court and everywhere else.
So, situations like this cropped up often.
"Look here. Aren't those folks from the Noryangjin Vegetable Fair Trade Office's chief clerk? Why are they arbitrarily collecting money from the pumpkin seller?"
"Aren't those from Fruit Fair Trade Office's Kim the Inspector? What nonsense is this? If pumpkins aren't vegetables, what are they? Fish?"
"Have you ever seen such an ignorant wretch! Let me teach you the principles of categorization. The outside is round and smooth, the inside sweet and moist—how could this not be a fruit?"
"Hey! You think just because we're in the market, I can't read? Look at the character for fruit [果]. It's a field [田] for eating and living atop a tree [木]. Clearly, only things that grow on trees are fruits!"
This scholarly debate, reminiscent of the Rites Controversy, ended in a similarly infamous way.
"Lads, that ignoramus won't listen to reason no matter what. Beat him!"
"If we go back empty-handed, we can't face the chief clerk. Give those blue-blind fools who can't tell shepherd's purse from dandelion a proper thrashing!"
The market violence and conflicts that Yeongjo had cited as an excuse for creating the Fair Trade Supervisory Office seemed to be intensifying instead, but I, the king, and all the leeches feeding off those offices pretended not to notice.
Besides, such incidents weren't entirely bad.
Hong Daeyong came to me for help with a look that said, "Do I really have to stoop to squabbling over pumpkins as a proper scholar?"
And I gave him a brilliant solution.
"What are you worried about, brother? Just create another Pumpkin Fair Trade Office."
"Pardon?"
I stood, hands clasped behind my back, and walked past Hong Daeyong.
Morning sunlight filtered through the latticed windows of the office.
"One side says pumpkins aren't fruit, the other says they're not vegetables. In such cases, avoiding bias toward either is the path of the golden mean, is it not? And the impartiality that our sovereign tirelessly teaches."
I couldn't see Hong Daeyong's expression—I was deliberately not looking as I spoke.
But whatever he thought, Yeongjo would accept it.
If I reported it as "the best way to curb market riffraff and spread virtue," he'd have no choice but to approve, feigning reluctance.
Under the premise of not over-splitting and devaluing things, more Fair Trade Office positions were always better.
In simplistic terms, this meant reducing the burden on the fruit and vegetable offices (minus the pumpkins) by 1 each, while setting the new pumpkin office's burden at around 3.
Mass standardization of minor varieties was outdated industrial-era modernization. Through multi-variety small-batch production, "modernization" would yield even greater total gains.
To achieve that, refined "standards" were needed to further subdivide the rough categories of fish, fruits, vegetables, etc., that had been lumped together under current impressions.
Setting standards arbitrarily via me or the Ministry of Military Affairs would invite nitpicking from those scheming isolationist factionaries, so expert consultations were necessary here.
Whether those consultations were objectively correct didn't matter.
The true job of any advisory committee was to compile the client's desired outcomes with academic authority.
The client's intent held axiomatic value, be they professor, lawyer, or doctor—no exceptions.
If the financier brought a deer and called it a horse, it was a horse.
Elaborating that it just had a slightly elongated horny wart on its head was the mark of a true professional.
Why could the Qin annihilate the six states? As Zhao Gao demonstrated, their ministers were so professionally shrewd.
An Jeongbok could turn Seongho Yi Ik into such a pro.
An Jeongbok believed that Kim Unhaeng's shout at Sunam Academy—"the path to unfolding your vision for statecraft"—was now being realized through the three uniform tax service articles.
In reality, An Jeongbok's opinions were only reflected in minor operational details to bolster my own logic. His ultimate land redistribution proposal had been quietly cut by me in the middle.
But I didn't tell An Jeongbok the truth.
"I was truly deeply moved by your plan to change the world, teacher. I earnestly recommended it to His Majesty. But alas, it was deemed too harsh on landowners and disrespectful to the scholarly class, so it wasn't approved."
An Jeongbok was disappointed but convinced. He'd anticipated backlash. Even practical scholars knew it was a long shot.
Even so, Kim Unhaeng had shown him "hope."
Through Kim Unhaeng, the long-ignored Southerners faction might one day manage the realm.
From then on, An Jeongbok became a true member of the Gangnam Magnates.
Gangnam Magnates and Seongho Hall weren't far apart.
Thus, An Jeongbok and Yi Ik could exchange letters frequently in a short time, thanks to Chunsik Couriers.
Yi Ik started with responses like "Chestnuts taste better than acorns," but gradually fell into An Jeongbok's cunning traps.
An Jeongbok had already grafted Kim Unhaeng's techniques onto himself.
On one hand, he kept sending gifts to burden Yi Ik (it was odd that Kim Unhaeng, whom Yi Ik didn't know personally, so readily funneled in wealth, but he didn't pry); on the other, he stimulated the scholarly zeal of Seongho Yi Ik that he knew from his old disciple days.
Yi Ik, who prided himself on mastery of all arts, fell into the intellectual's trap.
Like a warrior finding life's meaning in training who rejoices at a worthy foe, a scholar battling worldly truths can't back down from a challenge.
His disciple Yun Donggyu, watching from the side, sensed something off and tried to intervene.
"Acorns are acorns, chestnuts are chestnuts—even a child can tell them apart at a glance. Why fixate on such things now?"
"No, no. I've thought it over, and that's not it. Let me ask you this: Are all pine trees the same?"
"Well, there are red pines, crooked ones, straight ones. And pines resemble nut pines too."
Yi Ik pounced as if he'd anticipated that answer.
"Red pine. How red must the bark be to qualify? If there's just a hint of red, is it a red pine? For a crooked pine, does it have to be perfectly straight by plumb line with no inch of deviation, or is everything else bent?"
"Th-that's..."
"The Compendium of Materia Medica counts the splits in those needle-like leaves. Two splits make it a pine; three make it a nut pine separately; five make it a nut-pine pine. That's the wisdom of the ancients. Colors and straightness vary by a hundred people, a hundred opinions—but who would see three and call it two or four?"
Around them lay scattered sheets of botanical references available in Joseon.
Yi Ik said with an intrigued expression.
"Measurements must be consistent no matter who wields the ruler, and distinctions among plants must hold regardless of the observer—or they're useless. Sunam has awakened me."
Yun Donggyu suddenly recalled his wisdom as Seongho Yi Ik's current top disciple.
"Even so, it's suspicious. Perhaps what you first said was right, teacher. Maybe Kim Chunsik ordered Sunam to do this for the Fair Trade Supervisory Office? After all, collecting market taxes requires fine distinctions."
But that would invalidate all of Yi Ik's research so far. So Yi Ik ignored his disciple's warning.
"Did you quarrel with Sunam? Even if Kim Chunsik commissioned it, he's no thug's lackey. Ha ha. Lately, my studies have stagnated—this trivial pursuit refreshes the mind. Now that I've had my revelation, bring a bundle of paper; I must commit it to writing."
Yun Donggyu left the room with a faint sense of crisis.
It was an instinct humanity had held since our tree-dwelling days.
But Homo sapiens had strayed too far from the wild for that sense to reach certainty. Over the last three million years, we'd gained knowledge at the cost of much else.
Meanwhile, Yi Ik was taking humanity's first step back toward nature—conquering it on human terms.
Kim Unhaeng opened Yi Ik's research commission report with great pleasure.
Yi Ik's own preface caught his eye.
Commonly, the terms people use for things fade, confuse, or lump together over time, losing precision. In recent times, the Illustrated Compendium of the Three Realms emerged in China, and just recently, the Japanese imitated it with the Japanese-Chinese Illustrated Compendium of the Three Realms. Even works by so-called scholars suffer the same flaws. Folk call the ice fish, dubbed white fish [白魚], by that name—but it's written as mullet [魦], which in our land means goby, and its original sense is merely "slender fish."
It's not wrong by appearance, but such arbitrary naming leaves later generations unclear. So what to do? Principles anyone can see: Oxen have cloven hooves, emulating earth's yin. Horses have solid hooves, emulating heaven's yang. Insects lack legs or have six or dozens; some have wings, some not; shells hard or soft. Plants can be distinguished by flowering season, petal count and shape varying by seed; annuals versus perennials. Verify in detail, and even one who's never left home can recognize at first sight. ... This follows human kinship laws—near and far. For example, oxen and horses both hoofed and graze, so near; but distant from fierce carnivorous tigers without hooves. I dare speculate: Deep study of all things under heaven reveals their degrees of kinship. The Family Rituals applies not just to people but all creation, proving heaven's wisdom. ...
Thus, with aid from my disciple and friend Sunam, I humbly attempt to order the world's things briefly, despite my limited experience.>
I'd asked him to distinguish chestnut trees from acorn oaks, and he brought a full taxonomy treatise.
And what's this "kinship law"? Evolution? No way, evolution theory? What a pointless endeavor.
Of course, it did cover the chestnut and acorn details I needed.
Through detailed criteria like flower shape and color, fruit size and form, bark and leaf shapes, it classified not just chestnuts but various oaks like hornbeam oaks and scrub oaks that bear acorns.
Time was short, so it was rough standards and examples, but sufficient for "practical learning."
An Jeongbok wanted to expand it massively into the Joseon Illustrated Compendium of the Three Realms, Joseon's Britannica—I told him to go ahead.
I had no interest in the sciences. My "literary exam" work was separate.
I humbly retitled Yi Ik's Miscellany on Chestnuts and Oaks to Treatise on Dialectics of All Things Under Heaven. This Seongho nobleman had no clue about branding.
Since I'd paid the research fee, it was mine. My call.
So I added another preface.
With bold promo copy declaring "Here begins the measurement of names and things (nominals, objects, metrics, mathematics—roughly, the sciences)," it even prominently featured my name, which Yi Ik had annoyingly omitted.
Attaching this as reference, I submitted the finalized standards to Yeongjo.
With rigorous proof, he couldn't reject more Fair Trade Office sales without looking like a fool.
This was proper division of labor between literary and science tracks.
Yet, Uniform Tax Commissioner Hong Gyehui (finally showing up) looked unexpectedly displeased.
"I hesitate to say it, but even if Seongho's words are right, many won't like it regardless."
Sigh. The factional strife I'd learned about in textbooks was no joke. Southerners, huh?
But smashing such outdated nonsense was a modern man's duty.
For Hong Gyehui, eager to quit the tiresome uniform tax office, the practical utility of these clauses paled against the glares from hardline Noron colleagues to come.
From that angle, I whispered a scheme to Hong Gyehui.
"I have a plan for that. A man of your stature must be acquainted with the Chief State Councillor (Kim Jaero), right?"
"Well, yes."
I outlined the scheme, and color returned to Hong Gyehui's face.
Even by Joseon court standards, practical learning wasn't hostile—it just wasn't mainstream.
Yi Ik's cited Illustrated Compendium of the Three Realms or Yu Hyangwon's Outline of Ban Island were occasionally discussed in court. Just rarely.
The rarity stemmed from lack of need.
Take firearms: Once necessity proved, Joseon adopted new tech faster than most nations.
Many countries introducing guns faced fiercer backlash than Joseon.
The arts-and-physics (physics) elite, ruling since the Stone Age, wouldn't tolerate the rise of sciences.
Muscle-bound warrior classes fiercely guarded their rice bowls. Japan did; the Mamluks nearly toppled their dynasty over it.
Joseon, by contrast, needed only the swift monarch's decision. He knew such slow weapons were useless for him but vital for commoners.
Thus, King Yi Geum gladly accepted Kim Unhaeng's memorial.
"All offices shall emulate the Uniform Tax Office and Ministry of Military Affairs in their duties. Even grand institutions falter without detailed, clear articles and execution below. Harmonizing yin-yang is ministers' prime task, but without the star-like aides striving to assist, it's unattainable."
The ministers didn't object much. Joseon was rational.
But as rational Joseon officials, they felt the need to block Southerners' court entry in advance.
Market wealth? (Scholarly indifference.) But if the king used this to massively recall Southerners and spite the Noron again, trouble.
Operations were for Kim Unhaeng's rank. Ministers must handle grander harmony—politics.
Chief State Councillor Kim Jaero offered a deal.
"Examinations (here, civil service) are wisdom to prevent fame-noble idlers from office, like Goryeo's ten-rank system unchanged for six decades. We can't suddenly scrap shadow rosters honoring meritorious descendants, but hidden talents shouldn't be appointed on one or two words."
The Noron tolerated the king filling Uniform Tax warehouses (and his pockets) with merchant antics, even skyrocketing Seoul prices.
But the king mustn't destroy organizational order with arbitrary special appointments under "hidden sage" pretexts.
His resolve could manifest by expanding the regular route: exams.
And "regular" always meant "majority"—the Noron.
Yi Geum accepted the deal. Outside his son, he was mostly rational.
Thus, he promised extra exams by next spring at latest—piling more posts on Noron.
And Kim Unhaeng imposed harsher exam prep schedules on the Gangnam Magnates' Southerners.
No matter how much exams were a majority-party feast, to maintain honor as the path to office, minimal legitimacy was required.
In other words, for every one corrupt admittee, three legitimate ones must pass. Same for modern exam or hiring scandals.
So even Southerners had ways.
The king's letter to the Joseon people accelerated knowledge growth in unexpected directions.
Author's Note
1. The Illustrated Compendium of the Three Realms was published in early 18th-century China; the Japanese-Chinese version about 10 years before the story's timeline in Japan. The white fish anecdote in Yi Ik's preface comes from the later Comprehensive Manual of Uiryeong Governances, but contemporary practical scholars could have known it. "Measurement of names and things" appears in the preface to Comprehensive Collection of Five Provinces' Documents, meaning as described.
2. Around the late 15th century, when the Mamluk dynasty imported black slave soldiers for cheap, efficient gun units, existing Mamluks rebelled and slaughtered the new troops. The dynasty survived, but the king's fate goes without saying. Ultimately, the medieval superpower Mamluks, undone by their own army's strength blocking reform, fell militarily behind Europe.