Chapter 1106: The Turmoil at Court

Afraid of the cold in winter and the heat in summer, Emperor Liu had grown increasingly sensitive to temperature over the past two years, and every scorching summer or bitter winter was an ordeal for him. And so, another midsummer had arrived, and Emperor Liu practically fled the palace, retreating to the Qionglin Garden to escape the heat. Though ice was stored within the palace, using too much of it left him feeling unwell—bad for his health.

To be honest, the Qionglin Garden was not the ideal place for escaping the summer heat, but the scenery was beautiful, and the Jinming Lake brought a certain cooling sensation. Add to that the palace maids fanning him, and it was enough to satisfy Emperor Liu's needs.

When those above have a preference, those below will carry it to excess. Likewise, when those above have an aversion, there is no shortage of people below eager to offer suggestions and solutions. Emperor Liu's fear of cold and heat was no longer any secret.

Not long ago, Gao Xi, the Right Remonstrance Grand Master, submitted a memorial to Emperor Liu, saying that His Majesty toiled for the state, sought blessings for the people, and had done so unceasingly for over a decade, achieving today's unification of the realm, the prosperity of the empire, and the peace and well-being of the common folk. Yet he suffered constantly from the bitterness of cold and heat—as a minister, he could no longer bear to watch. Therefore, Gao Xi suggested that Emperor Liu gather the finest architects, conscript skilled craftsmen, and build a detached palace that was warm in winter and cool in summer, to be used for both seasons. Thus freed from the suffering of cold and heat, His Majesty could better govern the realm...

At this memorial, Emperor Liu let out a chuckle. Truly a case of "frank remonstrance and bold admonition"—thoughtful to the smallest detail, considering the worries of the sovereign and sharing his burdens. Emperor Liu genuinely felt that it was no easy feat for him, as emperor, to resist so many temptations. Looking across the realm, anything at all was within arm's reach; the entire empire could be freely traversed by him; everyone under heaven could devote themselves solely to serving him—and from time to time, someone would still pop up to remind him, to tempt him...

Self-discipline was perhaps Emperor Liu's most important quality. And Gao Xi's memorial made him think of one man—Meng Chang, still eking out his existence in a gilded cage in the Eastern Capital.

Back in the day, Meng Chang had also feared heat and dreaded cold. And so, he had expended enormous wealth and manpower, building in the most extravagant fashion a Crystal Palace on the Moha Lake, for his own enjoyment and that of Lady Huarui.

And what was the result? The state was destroyed, he surrendered, the Crystal Palace was plundered bare, all its rare and precious decorations were dismantled and shipped to the Eastern Capital, and the famed beauty Lady Huarui became a plaything on Emperor Liu's bed...

It had to be said that Gao Xi was simply unlucky. In the past, there had also been those who memorialized the Emperor to build traveling palaces, construct villas, or expand the imperial city, and though Liu Chengyou had refused them all, he had made no other indication.

This time, however, the association Emperor Liu drew with Meng Chang, that lost-country sovereign, made the consequences rather severe. Because Liu Chengyou felt that this was the work of a sycophant seeking favor—quite possibly a treacherous minister—and so he instructed Zhang Dejun of the Palace City Office to investigate this Remonstrance Grand Master.

No matter how much effort Emperor Liu had put into official governance, how strictly he held his ministers to standards, or how he championed clean administration, the reality was that the officials of the Great Han were afraid of investigation.

No investigation, no trouble; investigate, and trouble was sure to be found. Even more so when the Emperor himself had taken a personal interest—under such circumstances, even where there was nothing, something could be dug up. And Zhang Dejun was deeply versed in this principle. He didn't even need to deliberately fabricate charges; Gao Xi's own seat was far from clean. The bribery offenses uncovered traced all the way back to the fifth year of Qianyou...

With witnesses and physical evidence complete, the case was clear, and the punishment was swiftly handed down: stripped of office, property confiscated, exile. This was already the result of Emperor Liu showing mercy—at the very least, he had not been flayed, stuffed with straw, and hung as a lamp.

Perhaps Gao Xi would never understand, even unto death, that he had merely imitated others in submitting a flattering memorial to the Emperor, only to invite such unforeseen disaster. The reason, when told, was rather astonishing—Emperor Liu had simply associated him with something unpleasant.

Still, had Gao Xi conducted himself with integrity, he most likely would not have met such an end. And compared with his other colleagues, one could only sigh at his poor fortune.

Through this affair, Emperor Liu also gained another reflection. Even though he had constantly restrained himself with his words and deeds, curbed his desires, and admonished his ministers, there always seemed to be people who, one after another, rushed forward to flatter him, please him, and seduce him...

He was like a sturdy dike, yet there were always those who, like the tide, persistently sought to erode him, to breach him, and then rush forth into the free and open plains beyond, bringing calamity to the realm.

Emperor Liu's persecution complex seemed to be growing ever more severe.

During the time Emperor Liu was escaping the heat at the Qionglin Garden, the court of the Great Han was also roiled by endless disturbances and surging public opinion, the cause of which lay in the Hexi campaign.

By late April, with the successive recovery of the two prefectures of Ganzhou and Suzhou, the Hexi campaign had basically come to an end, and battle reports and various news from Hexi had been arriving in the Eastern Capital one after another.

Under normal circumstances, with tidings of victory spreading east, the imperial army triumphant, and Hexi recovered—such achievements would have the entire court overjoyed, congratulating the Emperor. And the court would then proceed with the rehabilitation of the newly incorporated Hexi prefectures and deliberate on rewards and honors for the meritorious officers and men.

This time was the same, except that in the process of implementing these matters, some discordant voices abruptly emerged in the court. Overall, this recovery of Hexi, counting from the dispatch of troops to the recovery of all the cities and the surrender of the Uyghurs, took just over a month in total—swift indeed.

However, many courtiers raised objections, and the crux lay in the process of the western advance. For instance, Guo Rong's massing of troops, gathering his forces without advancing, wasting provisions and money, and delaying the farming season—some raised doubts: since the Uyghurs could be crushed so swiftly, how was one to explain the earlier conduct?

There was also his overly close dealings with the local magnates of the Six Valleys and the various Qiang chieftains, arousing suspicion of buying popular support; the many old comrades in his army who looked only to him for direction, with all the great generals bowing to his commands; and his deployment of troops—underestimating the enemy and advancing rashly, actually placing his soldiers in mortal danger, resulting in grievous casualties...

Many of the discussions and memorials had clearly changed in tone—no longer like praise, but more like censure, and seemingly targeting Duke of Ying Guo Rong specifically. Even more condemned was the matter of Wang Yansheng and Guo Jin killing prisoners, as well as the subsequent looting and slaughter in Shandan City. When these were brought up, a host of ministers could stand on their moral high ground and heap accusations upon the brutality of the generals.

Under such public sentiment, the joyous occasion of expanding the realm's territory was cast under a shadow. The merits of the western-advancing soldiers who had endured bloody battle were greatly dimmed amid such criticism.

This kind of public opinion was abnormal, and some of the views were laughable, yet they were genuinely occurring in the court of the Eastern Capital. Objectively speaking, it was somewhat unfair to the soldiers who had fought in bloody battle. Though Wei Renpu also disliked slaughter—especially the killing of prisoners, an act that harmed the harmony of heaven—he still displayed the responsibility of a Chief Chancellor, defending the generals and harmonizing public opinion.

Commissioner of Military Affairs Li Chuyun, on the other hand, expressed great indignation, despising and condemning those officials who talked glibly without feeling the pain themselves. And Zhao Kuangyin, Duke of Rong, who came from a military background, offered no opinion at all—just a spectator, quietly watching the show from the VIP seats.

Behind this wave of public opinion, someone was certainly pulling the strings, and the person doing so held a very high position—the Emperor's maternal uncle, Minister of Justice Li Ye. Clearly, even after more than a decade, Uncle Li's love of stirring up trouble had not changed. His goal was also simple: to establish his authority.

Speaking of Uncle Li, he was a man of great ambition and a heavy drive for achievement. But even after more than ten years of tempering in the provinces, with considerable political achievements and improved abilities, when the Emperor recalled him to the central government to hold high office, there were still many who looked down on him, feeling that he owed his current position to his connection with the Empress Dowager.

Therefore, upon returning to court, full of vigor and ambition, planning to display his extraordinary talents, assist the sage sovereign, and achieve great deeds anew, Li Ye clearly sensed others' contempt for him.

For the proud and arrogant Li Ye, this was a hard thing to bear. In his position as Minister of Justice, he had performed well, but to truly spread his wings, he needed sufficient authority.

Last year, the case of Hu Meng, Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, had seen him turn his hand to cloud and rain, casting that man down from his lofty official position into the dust. This time, the western campaign had revealed an opening he could exploit, and he had decisively seized upon it.

Even Duke of Ying Guo Rong—the Chai clan—Li Ye dared to target, dared to attack. One could imagine that whether he ultimately succeeded or failed, who would dare look down on Uncle Li again?

Emperor Liu saw clearly the changes brewing in the court, like observing fire from across the river. Compared with the Qianyou era, though the Kaibao era had only just begun, every aspect had grown far more complicated.

Many problems that had not existed during the Qianyou years would, with the passage of time, be exposed one by one. Just as the common people of the realm needed time to adjust and adapt during the transition from division to unification, Emperor Liu's rule, moving from Qianyou into Kaibao, would also face new challenges.

And now, a sign was emerging: factional strife! This time, it was a conflict between meritorious officials and the imperial in-laws. Strictly speaking, given the tangled relationship between the Chai and Guo families, Guo Rong also counted as an imperial in-law.