Zhou Zhiruo was still pondering when Zhao Min's eyes lit up. "Not bad, that's a good idea. But there are still two problems. First, such a tax policy would greatly harm the interests of the gentry. How would you carry it out when the time came?"
Song Qingshu said grimly, "What do you think we keep fifty thousand elite troops for? Besides, with the momentum of our great victory, those gentry wouldn't dare resist."
Zhao Min nodded, agreeing that his plan was feasible. "Then there's the second problem. Doing this would inevitably offend the entire gentry class. What if they fled to other countries? There are many states now; they don't necessarily have to remain under your rule."
Song Qingshu smiled faintly. "Don't worry. The gentry class has its innate weaknesses as well. Their power and roots are here. If they moved to another country, they would inevitably lose a great deal of wealth, and all the connections they had built up would vanish. Those losses might not be any less than the taxes they'd have to pay. Besides, if they moved elsewhere, they would certainly harm the interests of the great clans there, and those people would definitely make things difficult for them. So unless we intend to wipe them out completely, they will never relocate."
Back when the Western Jin fell into chaos during the Flight to the South during the Yongjia Era, aside from those families especially close to Sima Yue and Sima Rui, the truly top-tier noble clans—the Qinghe Cui Clan, the Fanyang Lu Clan, and so on—never moved south at all. Even the families that did move south engaged in fierce struggles for power with the local Jiangnan gentry.
Drawing lessons from history, Song Qingshu was so certain.
"Even if they did, the ancestral graves