Chapter 1448: Emperor Liu's Contradictory State of Mind

"Your Majesty!"

The one who entered the hall was an old minister with a solemn countenance, carrying an air of upright integrity — Li Fang. He was also a veteran of the court, the top scholar of the early Qianyou era's imperial examinations.

Earlier this year, Li Fang, serving as Administration Commissioner of the Jinghu South Circuit, was transferred to the Eastern Capital to replace Li Gu, whose failing health could no longer bear the heavy burdens of office, as Governor of Kaifeng. After Wang Pu went west to Luoyang to serve as chancellor, Li Fang, together with the succeeding garrison commander Lü Yin, jointly managed the affairs of the Eastern Capital.

Judging by the position changes at the end of the year, it looked more like a preparatory step — laying the groundwork for Li and Lü to enter the cabinet and become chief ministers. As for the former, after Zhang Yong was sent out to Chengdu Prefecture, Emperor Liu did not deliberate long before issuing an edict summoning Li Fang back to the capital.

In fact, after Zhao Pu took the lead in reclaiming governance authority over the three Henan circuits from the Eastern Capital's residual administration, the various institutions of the Eastern Capital underwent corresponding changes. After extensive streamlining and consolidation, having Lü Yin and Li Fang — both major regional officials — concentrated in the Eastern Capital seemed somewhat inappropriate.

However, between Li Fang and Lü Yin, Emperor Liu hesitated briefly over whom to bring to his side, ultimately choosing Li Fang. The reasoning for the weighing was simple: Lü Yin had previously served as a Chongzheng Academician and needed no retreading of old paths. In Emperor Liu's eyes, Lü Yin's future career was better suited for development toward the Hall of State Affairs.

At the same time, Li Fang, returning to the capital for office once more, could no longer be satisfied with merely being a cabinet academician — after all, his seniority was different now, having been appointed Grand Academician of the Cabinet and Chief Minister. Even if the affairs he handled at Emperor Liu's side were the same, the disparity in status was significant.

The current cabinet was increasingly gravitating toward becoming Emperor Liu's secretarial organ — all military and political matters of the court, from the top down, were transmitted through the cabinet. Moreover, within the present cabinet, aside from several academicians, there were mainly three grand academicians.

However, Duke of Yu, Wei Renpu, owing to his physical condition, had long ceased handling affairs, merely holding an empty title. Especially in recent years, he had grown increasingly frail and feeble — Emperor Liu rarely even summoned him to the palace to consult on major matters.

As for Zhao Kuangyin, he was after all a military official. It wasn't that he couldn't do secretarial work, but he needed to avoid suspicion — especially given that his younger brother served as Governor of Luoyang. He was also quite tactful, not actively participating beyond normal summons and deliberations. He spent more of his time drinking and hunting, essentially living a comfortable, leisurely retirement.

Thus, Li Fang, as Grand Academician of the Cabinet, was in effect the top figure. The cabinet was by nature a special institution — being closest to the emperor, most matters memorialized by the Chancellery below and the various ministries and offices had to pass through it. Therefore, although Emperor Liu had delegated governing power to the bureaucratic group led by Zhao Pu, no one dared to ignore the cabinet's existence.

In the past, the cabinet's actual management had been in the hands of a mere Zhang Yong, whose prestige and standing were weak. But with Li Fang replacing him, things were different — changing the man was like changing the blade, naturally bringing palpable pressure upon the central ministries and offices of the court.

In the eyes of those ministers long steeped in the exercise of power within the court, Emperor Liu's change of personnel this time seemed to carry deeper intent behind it — there was never a shortage of people who interpreted the emperor's words and deeds from every conceivable angle.

For instance, with Li Fang's transfer to head the cabinet and assist at the imperial side, some with nimble minds wondered: was the emperor of the opinion that the Hall of State Affairs held too much power and needed to be curtailed? Or did he hold some view regarding Zhao Pu's stewardship of governance? After all, in the eyes of many within the court, Zhao Pu's power and influence had reached the absolute pinnacle for a subject, completely overshadowing every chancellor in the more than twenty years since the founding.

And as for the weight of Emperor Liu's desire for power — anyone with even a modicum of insight understood it, especially the old ministers. Moreover, Zhao Pu's administration had been overly assertive, with extremely heavy suppression of subordinate ministries and offices — it was naturally impossible for all to submit willingly.

Therefore, within the court dominated by Zhao Pu, those who were frustrated in their ambitions, or who walked a different path from Zhao Pu, began to stir with schemes and engage in tentative probing actions.

At the very least, as far as Emperor Liu knew, within the half month of Li Fang's return to the capital, his long-idle residence immediately became thronged with visitors — all manner of people coming to offer congratulations and seek counsel, an unbroken stream, including no small number of senior ministers from the ministries.

There were also those whose thoughts ran deeper, with broader associations. That is — Li Fang was not only a minister who had once gone out from Emperor Liu's side, but had also served for many years as the Crown Prince's teacher. This relationship, it must be said, was even closer than that with Emperor Liu.

With Li Fang undergoing such an important change in position, those with discerning eyes naturally made associations toward the Crown Prince. And the Crown Prince, after Li Fang's return to the capital, was also among the very first to personally visit his residence, to renew the bond of teacher and student.

In some eyes, Emperor Liu's move was a further consolidation of the Crown Prince's position, enhancing his influence. And to the Crown Prince's partisans, such an action was no less than sweet rain descending from heaven.

The Crown Prince had already participated in court governance for a considerable time, and now held substantive authority to oversee the state in the emperor's stead. Even Zhao Pu in his administration dared not circumvent the Crown Prince's autonomy — the Crown Prince could intervene in most affairs of the court.

It could be said that the Crown Prince's position was very secure. However, Emperor Liu's previous grand enfeoffment of the imperial princes had indeed dealt a certain shock to Liu Yang.

With the various princes standing side by side, lingering long in the capital, even participating in court governance, heading ministries, and wielding real power — this gave the princes room to cultivate their own forces and attracted no small number of people to pledge their allegiance. This world would never lack opportunists.

This was most evident at the upper levels of the court. Within the court, various forces were filled with all manner of figures. Those who had climbed to a certain position, upon facing their ceiling, would always seek ways to break through, to advance — and the allusion of "rare goods worth hoarding" had been passed down through the ages.

Merely because of Li Fang's transfer, a great stir had been raised throughout the court. Emperor Liu, for his part, found nothing remarkable in this — such situations had long since become routine for him.

In the central pivot of the Great Han Empire, all struggles for power revolved around him. No matter how tangled the schemes below or how many moves were made, he always played the role of an arbiter.

As for those overflowing ambitions, Emperor Liu took them in stride. He could use raw power to control people's words and deeds, but in the end, he could not imprison their thoughts. Though he was emperor, he was ultimately not a god — there were too many things in this world beyond his control.

However, just as many had guessed, transferring Li Fang did indeed carry consideration for the Crown Prince. Because he had also noticed that the other imperial princes — those ambitions that ought not to exist but naturally would — were growing.

Originally it was just Prince of Qin, Liu Xu, quietly accumulating influence and cultivating partisans, and Emperor Liu had not intervened excessively. At least all of Liu Xu's behavior, in Emperor Liu's eyes, had not overstepped bounds.

But when Emperor Liu discovered that even the Seventh Prince, Liu Hui, was also imitating this, with people beginning to gather around him — especially his overly close associations with those southern ministers — it put Emperor Liu on alert.

Emperor Liu's thoughts were sometimes contradictory. On one hand, he clearly affirmed the Crown Prince's position, consolidating his power and prestige; on the other hand, he seemed to harbor some hopes for his other sons as well.

But when developments began to exceed his expectations and slip from his control, he would have to intervene. From the bottom of his heart, Emperor Liu did not wish to see any struggle for the succession — that would not benefit the stability of the state and would harm the dynasty. Yet such things were often unavoidable.

Emperor Liu also knew he could adopt more severe or even extreme measures to quash the other princes' ambitions, but a voice in his mind always reminded him to leave some leeway. And that very leeway could often bear unforeseeable fruit.

Even if history offered enough lessons to draw upon, if later generations could all absorb history's lessons and experiences, then the course of history would not be so cyclical and repetitive.

Emperor Liu was the same. From the perspective of an outsider, he could even unbridledly comment on or even mock those brilliant sovereigns who had fallen into chaos over succession struggles — but when it came to himself, he was often lost and conflicted.

Emperor Liu's expectations for Liu Yang were absolutely sincere — of that there could be no falsehood. But the emperor's instinct also told him he could not hold back everything without reservation. Between emperor and crown prince, contradictions were themselves prone to arise. That no problems had emerged over so many years was due to the Crown Prince conducting himself well, and the other brothers remaining relatively docile.

However, as the years passed, the princes grew, and the formation of their power and influence began to make Emperor Liu feel conflicted — not uneasy, but torn. On one hand, he hoped for orderly succession; on the other, he also hoped Liu Yang would have some pressure. At the same time, they were all his sons, and they ought to inherit something from him — even if the most precious throne had already been decided for the Crown Prince.

Emperor Liu's character was multifaceted, with all manner of faces, but in the end, he was not a machine that could maintain rationality forever. And the older he grew, the more he resembled a mere man when briefly extricating himself from the vortex of power.