Chapter 1119: The Duke of Wei Passes Away

In early autumn, the sky was high and the clouds thin, the azure heavens clear as if washed. Before the Duke of Wei's mansion, a grand procession stood in formation—the Son of Heaven's imperial guard arrayed in solemn dignity. Clearly, Emperor Liu had come in person to visit Duke of Wei, Murong Yanzhao.

"Wasn't he fine just a few days ago? How could his illness have become so severe?" By the sickbed, Emperor Liu sat upright, gazing at Murong Yanzhao, who could barely rise from his illness, his tone heavy with gravity.

Murong Yanzhao was only fifty-four years old now, yet his appearance was withered, his frame gaunt as kindling. Judging by his face alone, one could be forgiven for thinking he was already seventy or eighty.

A face covered in wrinkles, a pallid complexion, sunken cheeks—Murong Yanzhao had entirely lost the bearing of his former years. Now he was merely an old man on the brink of death. No one who saw him would believe that the renowned Duke of Wei had come to such a feeble state.

This was already the third time in the past two years that Liu Chengyou had personally come to visit Murong Yanzhao—a testament to the depth of his favor. Yet facing the Emperor, whereas the previous two times he could still rise to greet him with his family's support, now he lacked even the strength of will.

"Your servant is now like withered wood and broken branches—beyond recovery!" Murong Yanzhao was quite resigned to his fate. The Emperor's arrival had restored some vitality to him, and his voice, as aged as his appearance, said: "These years of lying long upon the sickbed have been torment and suffering. This time, your servant feels his end drawing near. I can no longer serve Your Majesty with loyalty, nor render service to the court. I beg Your Majesty's forgiveness..."

As he spoke, the sickly pallor on Murong Yanzhao's face deepened, and even his coughs seemed feeble and weak. Seeing this, Liu Chengyou hastily said: "If you are ill, then treat it—why speak such inauspicious words!"

Most of the time, Emperor Liu was accustomed to false sentiment, yet in rare moments, with rare people, he spoke from the heart. His concern for Murong Yanzhao clearly belonged to the latter.

Sensing the Emperor's "sincerity," Murong Yanzhao once more revealed a pale smile and said: "Your Majesty, this time your servant fears he truly cannot hold on! Every man must die—that is nothing to fear! I had intended to dictate a final memorial to bid Your Majesty farewell, but now I am fortunate that Your Majesty has deigned to come in person..."

"Enough, you must not speak further—focus on recuperating!" For some reason, seeing Murong Yanzhao like this, his eyes grew hot, and his voice turned slightly choked.

"If I do not speak now, I fear I shall have no more chance." Murong Yanzhao said, a trace of reminiscence surfacing in his eyes: "In the first half of my life, though I had some small renown, it was confined to the countryside. Thirty-six years I passed in mediocrity before I was fortunate enough to be singled out by Your Majesty. The greatest fortune of my life, and what I dare not forget, remains the day Your Majesty summoned me from my humble dwelling.

Though I had some crude courage and strategy, I truly dared not call myself a peerless general. Yet I received Your Majesty's trust and confidence—you did not despise my lowliness, and repeatedly entrusted me with great matters. I was filled with awe and trepidation, moved to tears of gratitude.

For twenty years, though I achieved little of note, I was granted the supreme honor of being named a Qianyou meritorious minister. I am grateful to the depths of my being, yet I also feel Your Majesty has treated me too generously—I am ashamed to bear such honor..."

The more Murong Yanzhao spoke, the more agitated he became, yet his enunciation grew increasingly difficult. Liu Chengyou directly grasped his hand and said solemnly: "How could I not know your heart? No need to say more—I understand!"

Seeing this, Murong Yanzhao smiled and said at last: "Your Majesty, for my funeral affairs, I beg you to keep them simple. As for my descendants, employ them according to their abilities—do not grant them excessive favor on account of my small merits..."

Because of Murong Yanzhao's condition, the ruler and minister did not speak for long, nor say too much. Soon, Emperor Liu departed.

Walking out of the sickroom, Liu Chengyou's heart was heavy, and he even subconsciously rubbed his eyes. Murong Yanzhao had quite a few sons, but most were born after the founding of the dynasty. Aside from his eldest son Murong Deye, who had reached adulthood and served as Senior Administrator of Bo Prefecture, the others were all still young.

The one at home attending to his medicine and able to make decisions was the second son, Murong Defeng, who was only eighteen. Before leaving, Liu Chengyou patted Murong Defeng's shoulder and said softly: "Take good care of your father!"

"Yes!" Murong Defeng's voice was also choked with emotion. He naturally knew his father did not have long to live, for Murong Yanzhao had already made arrangements for his own funeral.

Leaving the Duke of Wei's mansion, Emperor Liu, who rarely showed joy or anger on his face, uncharacteristically revealed his grief. Seeing the Emperor in low spirits, those attending him all became even more cautious.

Old ministers withering away, old friends passing on—it is always sorrowful. For Liu Chengyou, the last time he had felt such unbearable emotion was when Duke of Yan, Wang Pu, had passed away.

But toward Wang Pu, Emperor Liu had felt mostly respect. Murong Yanzhao was different—he was a general who had come out of Hedong alongside Emperor Liu. Setting aside his outstanding contributions, the closeness of their relationship and the bond of feeling was beyond what ordinary men could compare.

When the Marquis of Anding, Zhang Yanwei, had taken his own life two years ago, Emperor Liu had still felt some melancholy—how much more so for Murong Yanzhao. Though Emperor Liu had always been capable of cold-hearted acts and seemed emotionally detached, that too depended on the person.

Since stepping down from the Ministry of War, Murong Yanzhao had been ill for several years, sometimes better, sometimes worse, with even a few brushes with death. But this time, Emperor Liu knew—he truly could not hold on. He would once again witness the passing of a meritorious minister, a hero of his generation.

Returning to the palace, Emperor Liu's mood grew even heavier, his sorrow beyond words. Upon returning to Wansui Hall, a serving palace eunuch brought a basin of clean water: "Your Majesty, please wash your hands!"

Seeing this, Liu Chengyou had no such inclination and said offhandedly: "My hands are not dirty!"

The eunuch replied: "Your Majesty has visited the sick—you should wash away the tainted aura you may have absorbed..."

At those words, Emperor Liu flew into a rage. With one hand he overturned the basin of water, then stared at the eunuch and directly ordered Yan Tuo: "Drag him out and give him twenty strokes!"

This frightened the eunuch out of his wits—he did not even know where the Emperor's anger came from—and he hastily kowtowed and begged for mercy. Yan Tuo, seeing this, very efficiently directed people to take him out and ordered the caning. His expression was tightly drawn, but in his heart he was pleased. Even among the eunuchs attending the Emperor there was competition, and the man being punished had been performing far too eagerly before Emperor Liu these past two years—how could he not incur Yan Tuo's jealousy?

Liu Chengyou sat behind the imperial desk, with no interest in reviewing the memorials upon it. Yan Tuo led people to pick up the overturned basin and clean up the spilled water, moving with the utmost care and caution. Outside, the boards struck with sharp cracks, and the screams were enough to serve as a warning to all.

Naturally, the palace attendants were astonished, for Emperor Liu had not been so irritable and wrathful in a long time.

It was not until Empress the elder Lady Fu arrived that the scene in Wansui Hall became clear to her at a glance. Maintaining her composure, she sat beside him, and seeing Emperor Liu's grieving demeanor, the elder Lady Fu reached out and gently massaged him, asking: "Is the Duke of Wei's condition very grave?"

"Mm." Emperor Liu would never take out his anger on the Empress, nor did he resist her gesture. He replied: "I fear he will not last much longer!"

"Alas!" Hearing this, the elder Lady Fu could not help but sigh and said: "Tomorrow, I shall go to the Misty Cloud Temple to pray for blessings for the Duke of Wei!"

"Birth, aging, illness, and death are the natural order—how can one pray them away?" Liu Chengyou said. But he looked up at the elder Lady Fu—after all, it was her sincere gesture—and after a moment's thought, added: "You are thoughtful!"

"I only hope Your Majesty will not grieve too deeply!" the elder Lady Fu consoled.

After thinking it over, Liu Chengyou asked: "For Liu Yang's marriage, what do you think of taking a young lady from the Murong family?"

To this, the elder Lady Fu naturally had no objection and expressed her agreement: "Your Majesty may decide as he sees fit!"

In truth, as the Crown Prince grew older, his marriage had become a matter of concern throughout the palace and the court alike, and the elder Lady Fu had raised it several times. After all, Duke of Qin Liu Xu had already been married for two years, and Lady Bai's belly was already swelling—in a few more months, Emperor Liu's eldest grandson would be born...

In fact, the choice of Crown Princess was rather difficult. Emperor Liu had previously been inclined to form a marriage alliance with the Murong family, but there had been a slight, insignificant hesitation. Now, if Murong Yanzhao were to pass away from illness, then taking a Murong daughter would face less obstruction from the Emperor—after all, seven-tenths of the Murong clan's prominence rested on Murong Yanzhao's influence.

Murong Yanzhao's condition deteriorated faster than Emperor Liu had imagined. He did not last even a few days—that very night, he passed away quietly. Clearly, a personal visit from the Son of Heaven was both an honor and something that could easily "backfire"—if one's fate was not strong enough, one could be "jinxed" to death...

Because he had been mentally prepared, Emperor Liu was much calmer after Murong Yanzhao's death, and for his posthumous affairs, he bestowed every honor and glory.

The court was suspended for three days. He posthumously conferred the titles of Director of the Secretariat and Commandery Prince of Linzi, and personally composed the spirit-path stele inscription for him—the first time he had done so without commissioning a ghostwriter, not minding at all that his mediocre literary talent would be exposed.

With Murong Yanzhao's passing, along with Duke of Bao, Wang Jing, who had died in the winter of the second year of Kaibao, the twenty-four Qianyou meritorious ministers began their decline.