Section 15

The official attire of the Lin Han lesser court had a distinct retro flair. It is said that back when this work uniform was being designed, Li Guangdi and the others truly racked their brains. Originally, according to Lin Feng's wishes, the civil and military officials of the Han army should consider "reviving the great enterprise of the Han as their bounden duty." Under this guiding spirit, the official garments of the Lin Han Empire ought to lean toward the styles of the Western and Eastern Han dynasties. However, this vision was quickly shattered by reality, for when the tailors actually produced garments featuring towering caps and expansive sashes, the civil and military officials, along with many prominent Confucian scholars, were instantly stunned. Although quite a few of them constantly spoke of ancient sage teachings, restoring antiquity, and revering propriety, these were merely words. The so-called "rule of the Three Dynasties" was more like a social concept; slogans were slogans, which did not mean everyone genuinely intended to carry them out. Thus, the moment the samples were displayed, everyone found them awkward no matter how they looked. Consequently, numerous officials submitted memorials asking His Highness the Prince of Han to "ponder prudently and adapt to the changing times—meaning to fit the era's shifts rather than anything related to a thief—and consider human sentiments," and to change into a more suitable work uniform to display the majesty of Han officials.

To be honest, Lin Feng certainly did not think traditional Han clothing was ugly. In fact, he felt that those wide-sleeved, long-robed garments possessed a truly magnificent and luxurious air. No matter what, they carried a more aristocratic flavor than things like swallowtail coats. Unfortunately, beautiful as they were, wearing them out on the street or to work might prove somewhat impractical.

Under this mindset, the civil officials, who had long yearged for the Han military uniform, leaped forward, clamoring to "expel barbarian ways and transform customs, leading the generation." They reeled off endless streams of grand reasoning, the ultimate conclusion being that the civil officials of Han should wear the exact same dazzling work uniform as the military officers.

This matter later became rather interesting. Originally, in Lin Feng's mind, changing a set of clothes should not have been a big deal. Of course, this was merely his personal view; in reality, the Chinese attached tremendous importance to clothing. As the saying goes, "clothing, food, housing, and transportation"—garments and headwear ranked absolute first. Therefore, whatever decision the Han court made regarding costume reform was bound to have a profound impact on the tens of millions of subjects under its rule. This could actually be seen during the previous fake Qing dynasty: once a single decree was issued, tens of millions of people nationwide instantly shaved their heads, left queues, and uniformly donned long gowns, riding jackets, and melon-skin caps. Every morning during the Forbidden City's court assembly, hundreds of officials stood there looking precisely like a grand gathering of zombies.

The new civil service uniform of the Han was a newly created style. Compared to the previous dynasty, it had a strong sense of connecting the past and the future. Influenced by military uniforms, the previously very wide official robes were gathered into a tighter cut, with a row of buttons extending from the shoulders down to the ribs, making the wearer look far more spirited. The hats followed the model of the former Ming dynasty, using black gauze as the defining marker, while jade ornaments were worn on belts, differentiated strictly by rank. The square embroidered patches that symbolized traditional Chinese characteristics were selectively retained: civil officials wore flying birds on the right side of their chests, while military generals had running beasts painted there. The hierarchical distinction here was naturally very strict. If a civil official climbed to the level of Li Guangdi, the bird on his patch would be a crane; if a military general attained the rank of senior general, he could adorn his uniform with a qilin. This honor of rank could even extend to living parents and wives, encompassing posthumous honors, noble titles, and imperial edicts. In this era, such things were regarded as bringing glory to one's ancestors, and if a monarch utilized them properly, they could unfailingly make people willing to march generously to their deaths.

Now, this attire was widely popular throughout the Lin Han territory, deeply loved and favored by gentry and commoners alike. In truth, in terms of style, these clothes did not differ greatly from traditional Han garments; the sole distinction was the creation of the metal button concept, alongside shortened waists and hems that made getting things done much more efficient. To insist that they were exceptionally "aesthetically pleasing and elegant" would be sheer nonsense. Human aesthetic concepts vary wildly: Mongols considered wearing fur robes beautiful, Manchus liked wearing cheongsams and high-potted flower-pot shoes, and even within the Central Plains, aesthetic differences among provinces were far from small. The reason this attire had become popular was simply because the Lin Han Empire's military might was formidable, and the ordinary people of China were habitually awed by power, feared authority, and loved to follow the crowd blindly in imitation.

The only thing that made Lin Feng feel somewhat displeased was that, out of the inertia of the feudal hierarchical system, less than two months after the new Han costume was introduced, the bureaucratic officials of the Han court's Ministry of Rites moved with astonishing efficiency to rapidly concoct a series of restrictions on what ordinary commoners could wear. They detailed various limitations, explicitly stating that "aside from officials and those with academic degrees or official honors," commoners were barred from using certain materials, were restricted in the number of buttons they could have, and were forbidden from decorating their hats with certain ornaments, clearly proclaiming the privileges of officials in this domain.

Gu Yanwu's embroidered patch featured a peacock. At present, he served within the Lin Han court as the Libationer of the Imperial Academy, the Censor of Rites, and an Expositor-in-Waiting of the Han Prince's Mansion, holding an official rank of junior third品. While it might sound somewhat unremarkable, purely in terms of official rank, he was absolute-ly a high-ranking official of considerable stature in Beijing. In the new administrative reforms, the original primeval residence of the Chancellor was abolished and replaced by the Cabinet. Senior Grand Secretary Li Guangdi held immense power and authority, managing civilian livelihood and state finances, yet his rank was merely senior second grade. Censor-in-Chief Chen Menglei investigated the realm and acted as the guiding pillar of the cosmos, but his rank was also only junior second grade. Thus, the fact that Gu Yanwu was able to be appointed to a high post of the third rank at the very dawn of the new dynasty could certainly be considered "profound imperial favor" by any measure.

However, rank was rank, and regarding this point, none of the Han civil and military officials dared to find fault. Old Master Gu was renowned throughout the world and universally revered. When it came to scholarship and seniority, ninety-five percent of high officials had to drop to their knees and kowtow upon meeting him, addressing themselves as "your junior." The Prince of Han had pleaded with him earnestly to stay in Beijing; ostensibly, he was treated as a guest of honor, but according to traditional custom, a more fitting title would be "Imperial Preceptor." With such a formidable figure, who would dare to show dissension? Even formidable personages like Premier Li and Marshal Zhou—referring to the Minister of War in seventeenth-century social convention, serving here as the alternative title for the Han army's Chief of General Staff—could choose to ignore him or give him a cold look whenever they pleased, yet who would dare to actually do anything to him?!

Nevertheless, while Gu Yanwu's rank was indeed high, this did not mean he wielded practical power. In fact, among the top power-holders near the top of the Lin Han hierarchy right now was a Military Intelligence Commissioner whose rank was merely junior fourth grade and whose military rank was only that of a colonel, yet the Prince of Han followed his every word and favored him immensely. His prestige at court rivaled that of major heavyweights like Li Guangdi and Chen Menglei, which demonstrated that political power and official rank do not always align.