Chapter 1484: The Perfect Chancellor

Emperor Liu condescended to visit the mansion in person, calling on old ministers and former friends—how many times over more than twenty years, it would be hard to count. Yet such gestures were often accompanied by a certain "mystique," especially for those ministers who were ill or gravely sick.

A list could be drawn up: Gao Xingzhou, Zhao Hui, Feng Dao, Murong Yanzhao, Wang Pu, Li Chuyun, and others, including the most recent case of Guo Rong—all of them passed away one after another after Emperor Liu came to visit them.

This theorem had been summed up through more than twenty years of sample accumulation, and it was still holding true to this day. And of those who could remain safe and sound after Emperor Liu came calling, counting them all, there was only Guo Wei. Of course, that old fox had begged leave on grounds of illness back then—whether that illness was genuine remained in doubt to this day, but Emperor Liu simply took it as real.

This time, Emperor Liu passed by the Duke of Yu's mansion. No matter what the household thought, whether they worried about such mystical matters, it had nothing to do with Emperor Liu—he himself was perfectly at ease, and the entire ducal household ought to be grateful for the emperor's favor.

Back when he was still in Kaifeng, Emperor Liu had been a frequent guest at the Wei residence. Beyond the palace halls, he had repeatedly come calling to discuss grand military and political strategies and deliberate on state affairs and everyday governance.

But since the westward move, the number of visits had dropped markedly—countable on a few fingers. The relationship between sovereign and minister had clearly grown much thinner.

In this, both men had changed. Wei Renpu had deliberately kept a low profile to avoid disaster; the emperor's personal favor and trust were not what he sought. Emperor Liu, for his part, had gradually grown more indifferent. Even now, Emperor Liu still believed himself to be a man who cherished old ties, but in truth, only he himself thought so.

At the Duke of Yu's mansion, Wei Renpu was not lying sick in bed for a "bedside conversation" with Emperor Liu, but rather received and entertained him with perfect composure.

It was in the rear garden of the ducal mansion, by the shore of the green lake, within a pavilion, bathed in the rich spring light of late spring—drinking wine, eating meat, and chatting. Perhaps the private relationship was no longer as intimate as before; Wei Renpu's speech was also noticeably more cautious, carrying more burden, but the sovereign-minister relationship was still quite natural.

The visit was made with inquiring after his health as the purpose, but not the main one. Emperor Liu more wanted to exchange views once more with this former trusted confidant.

Judging by the tenor of the conversation, the atmosphere was quite good—looking back on the past, recalling old times. Starting from the twelfth year of Tianfu (947), Wei Renpu had followed Emperor Liu and served under his command. Counting it now, a full twenty-five years had passed.

Twenty-five years of seasons were enough to bring about earth-shaking changes—so much wind and rain, so many ups and downs, so many twists and turns. Reflecting on it seriously, one could hardly avoid a great deal of emotion.

Wei Renpu was visibly aged, and Emperor Liu likewise—even more so, his mindset was even more in its twilight years, for he carried more worries, and his suspicious nature kept his body and mind from ever being at ease.

In the early political scene of the Great Han, Wei Renpu was a figure one could not avoid. This could be seen from the fact that Emperor Liu had originally listed him as the foremost among the twenty-four meritorious civil officials.

Reviewing the chancellors and chief ministers of the past, each had his own characteristics and distinct styles, but Emperor Liu's evaluation of Wei Renpu was the highest—calling him the minister with the most chancellor-like bearing in the Great Han, praising him for having the style of Song Jing.

During the period when Wei Renpu held power and managed state affairs, the political climate and human relations of the Great Han were the most smooth and peaceful in over twenty years, worthy of being called a time of political harmony and popular contentment. Whether toward officials or toward the people, that period was the finest, and Wei Renpu, with his outstanding political talent, seasoned handling of affairs, and lofty moral standards, fully shouldered the duties of a chancellor in harmonizing with his fellow ministers and coordinating the balance of yin and yang.

Moreover, compared with Yang Bin, Wang Zhang, Feng Dao, Li Tao, Fan Zhi, and even the currently powerful Zhao Pu and Wang Qiwu, Wei Renpu attracted the least controversy and criticism. Inside and outside the court, no one did not praise his self-restraint and bearing. At that time, he was nearly the perfect chancellor.

Of course, as a minister—and one who had once held the reins of state as chancellor—being too perfect was not necessarily a good thing. At least, when the distinction emerged that the assembled ministers feared the emperor but respected the Chief Chancellor, Emperor Liu could not help feeling a bit of jealousy in his heart.

There was a great difference between fear and respect, and in the suspicious heart of Emperor Liu, it could even be magnified. After entering the Kaibao era, when Wei Renpu relinquished power and left office, gradually disappearing from the Great Han's arena of power, this may well have been one of the reasons.

To this day, Emperor Liu still maintained a certain respect for Wei Renpu, still appreciated his conduct and integrity. He was indeed a gentleman chancellor.

But as a leader, one would clearly not like a subordinate who was too perfect. By comparison, the current Zhao Pu enjoyed more of Emperor Liu's trust. Besides his more capable and decisive governing abilities, it was also because Zhao Pu had flaws—and considerable ones at that—making him someone who could be brought out and sacrificed at any time. Wei Renpu was not like that; on him, the radiance of human virtue and morality was too dazzling.

And through this exchange with Wei Renpu, Emperor Liu also discovered that he was now very much at peace—unmoved by favor or disgrace, transcendent and detached, nothing weighing on his mind. He neither pursued fame nor sought profit, with a feeling of having returned to simplicity. He merely lived in leisure at his residence, content and self-satisfied, to the point that Emperor Liu could not bear to disturb him.

Emperor Liu also made some jokes with Wei Renpu, saying with envy that in his current state, he would be better suited to retreat to the mountains and countryside, become a reclusive hermit, and return to nature.

If given the opportunity, Wei Renpu would not necessarily be unwilling—but seeing Emperor Liu's attitude, he would not easily let him go, so he displayed a magnanimity of accepting things as they came.

This visit could be said to be a final summation and conclusion of the more than twenty years of sovereign-minister friendship between Emperor Liu and Wei Renpu. When he left, Emperor Liu's face carried a smile, his expression also held emotion, and he specifically left one instruction—that the Duke of Yu should peacefully enjoy his remaining years, and no one was to disturb him.

Perhaps it really was the mystique. Not long after Emperor Liu passed by the Wei residence, he lost pillars of the state again—and this time, two at once. Of course, on this occasion, misfortune did not befall Wei Renpu. Those who passed away were the Duke of Ru, Li Gu, who had long been frail and ill, and the Prince of Xiangyang, An Shenqi.

The two passed away in succession, both having been resting and enjoying their blessings in the Eastern Capital. When the news arrived, the court and the country were shaken. At this, even though his heart had long since grown numb, Emperor Liu displayed a certain sadness and mourning, and specially issued an edict suspending court for seven days to express his grief.

Of course, this was merely a formality—Emperor Liu rarely attended court in his daily routine anyway. At the same time, the various ministries and bureaus of the court all wore white mourning attire while on duty, to show remembrance for the departed meritorious ministers.

And with the passing of Li Gu and An Shenqi, more than half of the twenty-four meritorious officials of Qianyou, drawn up in the early Kaibao era, had withered away. Not yet a full ten years, and only ten remained alive: Wei Renpu, Xue Juzheng, Li Shaoyou, Fu Yanqing, Zhao Kuangzan, Guo Wei, Xiang Xun, Gao Huaide, Zhao Kuangyin, and Wu Xingde.

It had to be said that upon the meritorious ministers of the Great Han seemed to linger some inexplicable misfortune, causing them to wither away rapidly. Even though most of them died of illness, with almost none passing away peacefully in old age, it was precisely for this reason that it seemed unusual, that it seemed uncanny.

Perhaps in later ages, regarding the fates and endings of the twenty-four meritorious officials of Qianyou, posterity would generate endless speculation and conjecture. This point, too, seemed worthy of exploration.

Of course, Emperor Liu had a clear conscience...