Chapter 1499: Killing an Imperial Relative

This upheaval in the Great Han court finally settled down smoothly under Emperor Liu's "raised high and set down lightly," passing through to a stable conclusion. Of course, the so-called light setting-down was probably only what Emperor Liu himself believed.

This investigation targeting the inner court and the Directorate for Palace Affairs swept through nearly every bureau and office in the palace, involving three hundred and seventy-seven people, with over two hundred held accountable and punished, and ninety-three executed by the blade.

The Emperor's majesty and virtue, the palace's stern severity, were once again cast in the blood of these eunuchs and officials—heads rolling, blood dripping, eerily beautiful and terrifying.

Among those investigated, most were eunuch officials of a certain rank, and as a result, a large number of positions in the Han palace were vacated, giving others an opportunity for advancement.

After danger comes opportunity—one batch of people meets misfortune and death, another batch's fortunes turn. That is perhaps the truest portrayal.

The highest-ranking person brought down was, without question, the Director of the Palace Affairs Directorate, Li Shaoying. He was a true imperial relative—Emperor Liu's cousin, the eldest son of Yulin County Duke Li Hongxin.

This was also the greatest "achievement" Zhang Dejun had accomplished this time. According to his investigation, Li Shaoying, during his tenure as Director of the Palace Affairs Directorate, had embezzled and enriched himself, with illicit funds reaching a million strings of cash—an enormous sum involved, extremely grave circumstances, and exceptionally vile influence.

Of course, when Emperor Liu learned of the situation, he only said coldly: "So this is family. When they commit crimes, they're even more shocking and unrestrained than outsiders."

In all the years past, among the many corruption cases handled, those involving sums reaching a million strings were extremely rare. Under Han law, an official who embezzled five hundred strings or more could be directly sentenced to death.

Li Shaoying's case was enough to have him beheaded two thousand times over. What made it especially serious was that this was undermining the imperial house from within, stealing Emperor Liu's family wealth. Such domestic thieves who betrayed the Emperor's trust could sometimes provoke even greater fury.

For Li Shaoying, the enraged Emperor Liu showed not a trace of leniency—imprisonment, execution, recovery of illicit funds, confiscation of family property, and exile of family members.

This matter clearly threw another explosive charge into the already unsettled court, shaking everyone senseless, and it also made many people recall that officialdom earthquake from last winter.

Since ancient times, the palace has always been a place where rumors easily spread. When Emperor Liu was cleaning house, it couldn't be hidden—though of course, he had no intention of covering up his own shortcomings or deliberately obscuring matters. And the ministers, though they pretended not to hear or ask, who among them was not quietly watching?

The inner court and the outer court were never completely isolated from each other. When storms brewed within the palace, who knew how many people outside the palace walls were anxious and fearful, terrified of being implicated and caught up in the fallout.

Fortunately, Emperor Liu's target was only within the palace itself. Compared to the reflections on governance and the disciplining of aristocratic officials triggered by the Huazhou case, the Li Shaoying case brought no small shock to the ministers of both the inner and outer courts.

This was a true imperial relative, and toward his own kin, Emperor Liu showed not the slightest intention of leniency or favoritism. If that was the case, how could everyone else not weigh their own standing?

Because of the Li Shaoying case, the state maternal uncle Li Hongxin, who had been recuperating in Taiyuan, dragged his aged body and rode posthaste to Luoyang, only to plead for his son's life.

Unfortunately, it was all useless. No matter how he begged and pleaded, reasoned and appealed to emotion, Emperor Liu remained unmoved—he even interrogated and rebuked Li Hongxin over Li Shaoying's crimes. In desperation, Li Hongxin went to beg at Kunning Hall, but Empress Fu also kept silent on the matter, merely doing her best to comfort the state uncle.

When Emperor Liu had no mind to show leniency, no one's pleas would work. All of Li Hongxin's running around and begging was nothing but futile struggle. Having failed in his appeals, as he left the palace, Li Hongxin could only sigh: "If Empress Xiaomingren were still alive, how could it have come to this?"

In fact, that was indeed true. Had Empress Dowager Li still been alive, Emperor Liu might indeed have hesitated a bit more—at the very least, sparing Li Shaoying's life would not have been out of the question.

But the Li family members simply weighed too little in Emperor Liu's estimation. And up to now, among the dozens of members across three generations of the Li clan, the only ones Emperor Liu valued were Li Hongwei and Li Shaoyou.

After Empress Dowager Lady Li passing, Emperor Liu no longer had a binding restraint over his head. Even Empress Fu—whom Emperor Liu respected—could only offer occasional remonstrance; whether he listened or not still depended on Emperor Liu's mood.

But regardless, Li Shaoying was fixed on this year's autumn execution list, to be punished according to the law. And when the time came, perhaps among those watching the execution would be a batch of imperial relatives.

Li Hongxin was also kept in the capital. Emperor Liu's original plan was to have him present at the execution as well, but when he later heard that Li Hongxin had fallen ill, he dropped the idea and abandoned that thought.

What gave Emperor Liu some slight satisfaction was that, unlike the Li family members who had submitted pleas one after another, the Duke of Shou, Li Shaoyou—the one closest to him and most trusted by him—had not submitted a single memorial from beginning to end. And Li Shaoying was his own elder brother.

The final verdict in the Li Shaoying case had far-reaching influence. The most direct point was that it made the court officials even more awed and fearful of Emperor Liu. Too ruthless—even toward a cousin, he showed no mercy whatsoever. Even more crucial was that from start to finish, Emperor Liu had appeared utterly resolute, with not a single sign of wavering.

This matter truly shook quite a few court officials. Though many were tight-lipped about it, whenever it came up in private, an involuntary chill rose from their hearts.

Of course, for the old ministers who had truly seen the world, this counted for little. Rare things are strange to those who haven't seen them. Li Shaoying was indeed an imperial relative, but in the end, his surname was Li.

Think back more than twenty years, think about how Emperor Liu had dealt with his two imperial uncles back then. Liu Xin was confined until death, and had it not been for Xu Prince Liu Chengyun's plea, his descendants might well have been struck from the imperial clan registry.

Liu Chong also came to no good end—he died of depression, and his descendants were confined for nearly twenty years, with deaths and illnesses among them, before they were finally released and reappeared on the Great Han's political stage.

With those two precedents, what was a mere Li Shaoying? For some old ministers, this matter only proved that Emperor Liu's bottom line was still clear—he was still the same Emperor Liu, and when the time came to show no mercy, he truly would not soften in the slightest.

Though the upheaval in the palace had subsided, the aftershocks still needed time to settle, and the anecdotes arising from it gradually spread, reaching the common folk where they became many severely distorted tales and stories.

Of course, what the common people most delighted in discussing was Emperor Liu's act of releasing the palace women. Through packaging and propaganda, many people came to treat this as a hallmark of a wise and sage ruler.

After the Empress's careful consideration, it was finally decided that the palace would retain one thousand nine hundred and twenty people to staff the bureaus and offices, filling the palace to maintain daily operations.

That was far more than the seven hundred Emperor Liu had mentioned. Even so, compared to the original number, nearly sixty percent of the staff had been cut.

The more than three thousand eunuchs and palace maids were also arranged for under the Empress's leadership, released in batches. Of the over one thousand seven hundred palace maids, only a little more than three hundred received compensation and documentation and were able to return home.

Of the rest, aside from a small portion assigned to serve in the various princes' households, the remainder were arranged for the guards and the officers and soldiers of the imperial army. To put it bluntly, this was Emperor Liu distributing women, and the effect was remarkable—military morale soared, and enthusiasm ran high.

Of course, it could be certain that not everyone could enjoy this benefit. One should know that the guards stationed in the capital year-round and the troops of the Three Bureaus of the imperial army totaled over fifty thousand men. Among so many, those who were single and living alone numbered no less than eight thousand, if not ten thousand—too many monks for too little porridge, nowhere near enough to go around.

Therefore, practicing egalitarianism was unrealistic. On the other hand, while winning over the military's hearts was indeed one of Emperor Liu's goals, what he needed to win over were those officers who held a certain degree of influence in the army.

To be fair, ordinary soldiers were not qualified. There were cheaper and more effective ways to win them over. But from the officers' perspective, the number was greatly reduced. Moreover, most of those holding military positions in the Great Han army were already married—the higher the position, the more so. The court also needed them to have family ties so that they would serve loyally and devotedly.

Therefore, when the Ministry of War submitted the final list, it was discovered that the problem was not a shortage of palace maids, but a shortage of eligible officers and soldiers. So a new round of screening began, this time expanded to the entire garrison force of the capital region.

All in all, this was a favor bestowed upon grassroots commanding officers.

Aside from the palace maids, the arrangements for the eunuchs also required considerable thought. Compared to the maids, they were even harder to place—after all, they were men without roots, and once out of the palace, they would face contempt and disdainful looks.

The number expelled from the palace also reached over a thousand. In the end, it was only through Emperor Liu's personal decision that a final plan was reached. Aside from assigning a portion to the Eastern Palace and the various princely households, the rest were each given money and grain, granted honorary rank, and those who could return home did so, while those with no home to return to were arranged for placement in the villages and townships.

Emperor Liu believed that once in the localities—especially in those villages and townships where imperial authority struggled to reach—these eunuchs would be among the people most reverent and loyal to him and to imperial power.