Chapter 1460: Political Crisis

Having made the decision, on the spot, in front of Zhao Kuangyi and his nephew, Zhao Kuangyin personally took up the brush and wrote a memorial confessing his faults and pleading for punishment. When he set down the brush, holding this weightless memorial in his hands, Zhao Kuangyin felt it heavy indeed.

All his attitudes and actions had been for the sake of protecting his younger brother; who would have thought that only a few days later, he would have to personally make the decision to give up. For Zhao Kuangyin, this was unavoidably difficult.

But no matter how difficult, a decision had to be made eventually. Zhao Kuangyin could not gamble the Zhao family's future on being an easy target to strike.

"Someone, saddle a horse! I am going to the palace!" His gaze quickly turned cold and hard as Zhao Kuangyin called out.

Taking a black cloak hanging from the clothes rack and simply draping it over himself, Zhao Kuangyin said nothing, his steps carrying the wind as he walked out the door.

Only the uncle and nephew remained in the room. The sudden gust of cold wind made both of them shiver involuntarily. Zhao Dezhao looked at Zhao Kuangyi sitting upright there, hesitated for a moment, then asked in a low voice: "Third Uncle, is the matter really that serious?"

Seeing his doubt, Zhao Kuangyi sighed, rose, and reached out to pat Zhao Dezhao on the shoulder, saying: "You are still young. There are some things you cannot yet see clearly. You need to look more, listen more, learn more... and speak less!"

"I am heading back first!" With that, Zhao Kuangyi walked away slowly, leaving Zhao Dezhao behind with a face full of deep thought.

Before the gates of the ducal residence, Zhao Kuangyi appeared with steady steps. The cold winter wind lashed against his weary face, and his expression was not as composed as his stride, carrying a hint of heaviness.

The carriage slowly drew up and stopped on the long street before the gates. Compared to the ornate carriages popular among the nobility, Zhao Kuangyi's conveyance was not luxurious—it even seemed rather ordinary.

"My lord!" The driver halted the carriage, nimbly dismounted, came forward to greet him, and handed over a fur robe. Four guards clad in padded cotton jackets with long sabers at their waists stood silently nearby.

"Return to the residence!" Zhao Kuangyi tightened the fastenings and gave a quiet order.

Boarding the carriage, he paused briefly, then added: "Send word ahead—I will not be returning to the residence tonight. Go to the government office!"

"Yes!" They were all trusted retainers who knew Zhao Kuangyi's temperament well, so they dared not ask questions and simply obeyed.

The cold wind pierced to the bone, the night was hazy, and looking around, everything was shrouded in a layer of mysterious and icy mist. On the long street, there was utter silence, broken only by the desolate winter wind howling. One could only wonder whether, in the darkness and shadows, a pair of eyes was silently watching the Zhao residence's movements without emotion.

The gates of the ducal residence were still open, with the steward waiting respectfully there, prepared to watch Zhao Kuangyi depart. Several lanterns bearing the character "Zhao" hung from the eaves of the gate, swaying ceaselessly, making the character "Zhao" seem almost lifelike—yet that flickering sight made Zhao Kuangyi feel somewhat dazed.

"Let's go!" Restoring his stern expression, Zhao Kuangyi spoke again.

The carriage moved slowly along the long street until it disappeared at the end. Only then did the steward of the ducal residence order the gatekeeper to close the vermilion gates. Inside the carriage that could shelter from wind and rain, Zhao Kuangyi seemed unable to feel a trace of warmth. His whole person appeared to merge completely into it, his face cold enough to send chills down one's spine.

He still unavoidably pondered the gains and losses of this upheaval, yet the more he thought, the lower his spirits sank. Although Zhao Kuangyin was very responsible and had made clear he would shoulder this matter alone, Zhao Kuangyi could not be optimistic. On the contrary, he felt increasingly heavy, even finding it difficult to maintain a steady state of mind.

He could not help but think about the impact of this upheaval on the court, on the Zhao family, and on himself personally. The impact—one could even frankly say the negative impact—was absolutely unavoidable. Even if the brothers had already made their decision to go and pledge their loyalty to Emperor Liu, he did not feel this matter could be easily settled.

A Zhao Kuangmei, in ordinary times, might not amount to much, but after this upheaval, his life or death could almost represent Emperor Liu's attitude toward their Zhao family.

Even if they ultimately managed to weather this safely, it did not mean the matter could be smoothly brushed aside. Zhao Kuangyi had already realized that this time, his brother would likely lose a great deal of standing in Emperor Liu's eyes. Perhaps it would be like a thorn lodged in the Emperor's heart, and for a political family, this could almost be called fatal. Whenever Emperor Liu recalled this matter in the future, he would look upon their Zhao family with "different eyes."

Without a doubt, their Zhao family was facing a political crisis—a crisis of unprecedented severity. For him personally, it was the same.

Zhao Kuangyi was a man of immense political ambition. For over a decade, he had worked diligently and conscientiously, doing what ordinary men would not do, enduring what ordinary men could not endure. His rise to his current high position was not merely reliant on the Zhao family's resources.

In the past, he had been confident both in Emperor Liu's appreciation of him and in his own abilities. Yet at this moment, he only felt that his originally infinitely bright future had been cast over with a shadow, beginning to grow dim.

Originally, Zhao Kuangyi had been confident that within three to five years, he could ascend to the hall and become a chancellor. Even if not, he could at least be promoted to the central government, drawing closer to the Great Han's highest center of power.

But now, his originally smooth and broad road had gained some uncertainty, and the distance to realizing his political goals and ambitions might require enduring more twists and turns.

To put it severely, perhaps that gate to climbing the peak of power would be closed to him... Zhao Kuangyi was naturally a man of deep thoughts with far-reaching considerations, yet the more he considered, the more he fretted over gains and losses.

Amidst the court-wide upheaval and surging public opinion, if there was any institution in the court that could maintain stability, it would naturally be the Hall of State Affairs. The ministries and offices below were supervised and inspected by them, while they were directly responsible to Emperor Liu. The pressure they bore was naturally different—everyone above and below was watching, and they needed to maintain the bearing of the center of power.

In the spacious and imposing chancellor's hall, Zhao Pu sat upright behind the official desk, buried in reviewing official documents. Storms and upheavals continued both inside and outside the court, yet he remained as steady as Mount Tai, undisturbed by the waves.

Of course, from these memorials, one could feel the restlessness and unease currently pervading the court. The remonstrance memorials submitted were not only those presented directly to Chongzheng Hall, but also those sent to the Hall of State Affairs—and some were even transferred to him by Emperor Liu's order.

Zhao Pu had a rough understanding of what the bureaucrats below were thinking. They simply felt that he, as Chief Chancellor, should step forward and speak up, to quell this upheaval, end this crisis, and reassure the hearts of those inside and outside the court.

However, Zhao Pu was clearly very clever. He had no desire to be the bird that stuck its head out—especially to speak and advocate on behalf of the meritorious nobles. Between the two sides, there had always been a chasm, and the longer he held power, the wider and deeper that chasm grew.

Under Zhao Pu's governing policy, the meritorious noble class was always meant to be restricted and suppressed. Previously, due to various obstacles, there had been no opportunity, and he had been biding his time.

But this time, he seemed to have caught a whiff of that unusual scent from this sudden political crisis and saw an opportunity that was hard to come by. Under such circumstances, not directly kicking someone while they were down already counted as him being "generous."

Most importantly, Emperor Liu's attitude had not yet been made clear. Zhao Pu, who was deeply versed in the art of serving a sovereign, would hardly act rashly. He was both secretly scheming and waiting—waiting for the summons from Chuigong Hall.

Therefore, no matter how much noise raged outside, Zhao Pu remained steadily in the chancellor's hall, as if no disturbance could affect him at all.