Chapter 1458: The Law Does Not Punish the Many

The Huazhou riverworks case that broke out in the winter of the ninth year of the reign — the incident erupted suddenly, its impact spread swiftly, and what began as a corruption case gradually evolved into a political purge by the court against graft and lawbreaking, shocking the court and the wider realm alike, with clamor rising everywhere.

Similar situations had occurred before in the past — one could even count out several examples. Whether it was the Huainan case back then, or the Zhao Li case, or the rectification campaigns within the court, which one of them had not implicated a great many people?

Yet none had been this swift, this deep, this alarming. Within half a month, more than a dozen new cases had been opened, involving over a hundred officials — not lacking high-ranking officials of the fourth and fifth grades, nor ministers occupying key posts. Like a string of linked landmines, they exploded one after another as the judicial authorities' investigation deepened.

Those implicated, besides the relevant officials, were the sons of meritorious nobles who ordinarily drifted between court and countryside, scavenging like gluttons in the gray zones.

This was perhaps also what distinguished it from any major case of the past — within half a month, over twenty people had been summoned for interrogation, and several had even been thrown directly into prison.

The man responsible for overseeing the investigation and interrogation of these cases was Minister of Justice Cui Zhoudou — a true old hand at criminal law in the court. From censor to surveillance commissioner all the way to Minister of Justice, he had steeped himself in the court's judicial system for over twenty years, his experience naturally rich, the major cases and weighty matters he had handled beyond counting, and not a few of those he had dealt with were powerful and privileged.

Moreover, this man was fierce in temperament — one could even describe him as preferring to break rather than bend. In the early Qianyou years, he had even dared to directly attack those lawless, wantonly reckless military provinces, submitting memorial after memorial — and one must know that the military governors of that period all wore the label of ferocious cruelty.

Whether in his choice of personnel, his investigative attitude, or his methods of disposal, there was clearly something unusual about it all — it was simply too cold and hard. So many sons of meritorious nobles — those who should be interrogated were interrogated, those who should be questioned were questioned, and imprisonment was applied without the slightest courtesy. Truly, not a shred of dignity was left them.

And what most shocked — even terrified — people was that the investigation seemed to have no end in sight. Expose one matter, and a case file was opened; surface one person, and that person was arrested.

Such unpredictability was clearly even more alarming and prone to inciting panic. One must understand — from a single Zhang Jin, over a hundred people had been implicated. Then behind those hundred people, how many more were connected, and how many more matters could be dragged out?

On this point, no one could say clearly, but no one was optimistic either. Therefore, sensing the people's panic and the political turmoil, of late quite a few ministers and remonstrating officials had submitted memorials to Emperor Liu, hoping that Emperor Liu would step forward, render a verdict on this case, and quell the storm as quickly as possible, lest popular sentiment waver. After all, for the court, stability was the most important thing — and with the political tide surging so fiercely, only Emperor Liu possessed the ability and prestige to draw a conclusion.

Among those who submitted memorials, their purposes were clearly complex. There were certainly the mature and prudent who worried about this expanding purge of officialdom, fearing it would cause political instability and shake the court's foundations.

But more of them, most likely, feared that if the investigation continued to deepen, it would implicate themselves. After all, given the current trend, no one could guarantee what the outcome would be — and whose family was completely clean, without a single handle to grab, without a single unworthy son?

And things often worked this way — when everyone felt threatened, felt afraid, they could not help but seek a way out, a way to extricate themselves. The best method was to extinguish the burning flame before it set oneself ablaze — even with Emperor Liu watching from above, they would dare to fight for it.

The first wave of climax — or perhaps turning point — in this storm had to be Zhao Kuangmei's voluntary surrender. Amid this increasingly chaotic upheaval, among the endless stream of cases, this matter could not help but draw attention, for the development and spread of events truly seemed to have no boundary, and had already begun to implicate the Great Han's topmost powerful nobles.

The Zhao family's reputation and standing in the Great Han were conspicuous. Among the Zhao brothers, Zhao Kuangyin was a meritorious minister and famed commander, Duke of Rong, and Grand Academician of the Inner Cabinet; Zhao Kuangyi was Earl of Guangyang and Governor of the Western Capital — equally exalted in rank and heavy in power.

And Zhao Kuangmei's surrender itself carried something of the bizarre. He turned himself in at the Luoyang prefectural office, then was personally escorted by Zhao Kuangyi to the Ministry of Justice — and all this in a situation where he himself had not yet been implicated, voluntarily confessing and detonating the thunderbolt.

Behind such initiative lay an appearance of utter selflessness and upholding of the national law — but the flavor of the Zhao brothers backing him from behind was rather strong. In response to this, even Cui Zhoudou displayed a certain caution, not making a hasty decision, but only after obtaining Emperor Liu's edict did he accept the prisoner, open the case file, and commence the investigation.

The Zhao family's move was both eye-catching and thought-provoking. In a situation where nearly everyone felt endangered, many could not help but ponder what the intent behind Zhao Kuangmei's surrender was. As the Great Han's most upper-echelon powerful noble family, every move and gesture carried political calculation — and for many, it bore the significance of a weathervane.

And within the court, including among the meritorious noble clique, there was naturally no shortage of clever people. Merely half a day later, people began to follow suit, voluntarily leading their families' offending sons or related personnel to the Ministry of Justice to surrender, generously handing them over for the court to dispose of, while putting on a display of righteous indignation.

In fact, during these days, it was not only Zhao Kuangmei who was anxious and fearful — quite a few sons of meritorious nobles, likewise under fear, had confessed to their elders and begged for help, which also triggered a campaign of self-inspection and self-correction among the nobles and bureaucrats within their own clans.

Soon, the trend of following suit began to spread. Some people might find it hard to see through the surface to the essence, but that did not stop them from imitating. Privately opening silver mines, illegally felling forbidden timber — these two crimes were by no means light. But since the Zhao family had voluntarily pushed forward Zhao Kuangmei, many held the simple notion that the Zhao brothers could not truly be pushing their own flesh and blood into the abyss, into hell.

Many who felt their own offenses were lighter than that appeared even more composed, with less burden on their minds. Thus, within three days, those who surrendered themselves at the Ministry of Justice reached over a hundred families — from meritorious nobles and imperial relatives to bureaucrats and ministers. These people seemed to have found a breakthrough direction for escaping their predicament, or perhaps an outlet for their emotions, and they all crammed in, charging forward.

The nobles' self-surrenders and the courtiers' self-corrections quickly drove this political storm to its climax, making it more intense, more turbulent, more unpredictable. The entire court, from top to bottom, seemed to have gone mad, suffused with a restless, anxious air, as if brewing a tempest. The upper and middle echelons were actively enthusiastic, while the lower echelons, under such a display, became bewildered and stunned.

Such a tide naturally brought enormous pressure upon the court's governance — and those under the greatest pressure were clearly the group of investigating officials headed by Cui Zhoudou.

Originally, as the investigation actively expanded, it had already encountered some bottlenecks, faced some difficulties, and the intangible yet ever-present pressures.

Now, there was no need to trouble oneself investigating at all — people came voluntarily to surrender themselves, group after group, wave after wave. Setting aside everything else, even just taking all these people into custody and distinguishing and investigating each matter one by one would require more manpower than they had.

Moreover, among the officials and clerks of the three judicial agencies responsible for the investigation, how could every one of them be clean? Who could say there wasn't someone with an unwashed spot beneath their seat? When it came to knowingly breaking the law, who could be more practiced than these law-enforcement personnel within the judicial system itself?

In fact, at this point, it had become somewhat difficult to continue investigating. The resistance came not only from the implicated persons, officials, and the family forces behind them — even within the investigating officials' own ranks, they no longer wished to continue.

Thus, a collective action — never colluded upon, yet unanimously and tacitly agreed upon by nobles and bureaucrats alike — took place openly and unabashedly.

The nobles and bureaucrats within the court, amid this treacherous and surging situation, in silence, sent a single voice to Emperor Liu, expressing a single will.

And some who were slower to catch on could not help but grow optimistic about the direction of events. There was a saying: the law does not punish the many. If all the nobles and officials within the court were implicated, could they all be dealt with?

Would the court stop functioning? Would the state cease to be governed?

If it came to such a situation, even Emperor Liu, for all his toughness, would have no choice but to compromise.