Chapter 1521: A Grand and Spectacular Affair

There is no doubt that the Fengshan tour was the grandest and most spectacular of all Emperor Liu's imperial progresses—whether in terms of the scale of personnel, the standard of travel, or the consumption of resources, it surpassed everything in his imperial career.

Taking only the entourage into account, the number of palace attendants, nobles, officials, soldiers, and clerks exceeded seventy thousand, and of these seventy-odd thousand, apart from the guards and servants, the vast majority were the elite of the Great Han, encompassing nearly the entire upper ruling class.

It could be said that if anything untoward happened to this procession, the Great Han Empire would inevitably suffer grievous harm, for the Emperor and Empress, the Crown Prince, the various princes, the imperial clan, and nearly all the nobles and court ministers were among those accompanying the journey.

These people were the true cornerstones of the Great Han Empire; if anything went wrong, then for the entire empire, even if it were not a collapse of mountains and earth, it would still plunge into a state of precarious instability. Therefore, the level of security for this journey was raised to an unprecedented degree.

Among the accompanying multitude were also at least half of the regional military and civil dignitaries. Apart from the few military and civil chiefs of special regions such as the southwest, northwest, and northeast who could not get away, the rest of the circuit-level and even prefecture-level officials all proactively submitted memorials requesting to participate, intending to share in the grand occasion.

Of course, those who obtained approval were very few indeed. Nevertheless, even so, officials from all regions racked their brains and strained every nerve trying to squeeze their way in.

Take the grand court assembly at Chongyuan Hall at the start of the year for example—the number of regional dignitaries who chose to come personally to the capital to report on their duties and offer congratulations was more than double that of previous years. And these people had all received word early on; after arriving in Kaifeng, they lingered and refused to leave, impossible to drive away, simply waiting for the imperial carriage to set forth so they could follow along with the procession.

And for the Great Han Empire, it was also rare to have, as on this occasion, all the ministers from within and without gathered together—this in itself was a rare grand gathering, never seen before, and likely difficult to reproduce in the future.

In view of this, the Hall of State Affairs even issued a special directive requiring all circuit and prefecture governments to strengthen control over public security, and all regional garrisons to heighten alertness in their watch duties, ensuring that military and civil operations throughout the realm functioned normally during the Fengshan period, and above all that agricultural affairs were not delayed.

As for the various borders of the Great Han, especially the northern regions, they entered a state of combat readiness, with border control further tightened, done with great fanfare and solemnity. After all, from west to east, quite a few frontier generals had come to the capital, inevitably leaving some gaps in border affairs, and this strong posture and these measures served to intimidate the disloyal and the petty.

Although the court had already made foresighted arrangements for regional military and civil affairs, it was unavoidable that the Fengshan sacrifices still had some negative impact on the localities.

Even so, this could not stop the enthusiasm of officials from all regions—especially those who were qualified—in this matter. Originally, this might have been just a political show by Emperor Liu, but imperceptibly, it had already become a carnival for the civil and military ministers of the Great Han court.

For many officials, especially local ones, participating in the Fengshan sacrifices and witnessing the grand ceremony had already become a rare piece of political capital, a manifestation of status.

Even the order of standing positions for everyone during the Fengshan ceremony itself provoked a bout of competition, bringing considerable pressure and trouble to Zhao Pu, who was specifically in charge, for achieving a balance among them was truly no easy task.

Watching the affair grow bigger and bigger, the matter becoming more and more complicated, and even its nature beginning to change, Emperor Liu could not help but feel some misgivings in his heart, thinking that it was all a bit too ostentatious and showy.

However, his slight hesitation was only minimally reflected in his actions—apart from issuing a mild and ineffectual proclamation, he made no further moves.

Everything was left to Zhao Pu and the others to manage. In fact, the Fengshan ceremony had been prepared for so long, front and back, that a few minor setbacks in the process could no longer affect it.

The edict had long been promulgated; no matter what problems arose or what repercussions followed, they had to grit their teeth and carry on. As for the problems that were exposed, lessons could only be drawn afterward—what needed rectifying would be rectified, what needed changing would be changed.

Setting out from Kaifeng on the fifteenth, they traveled east along the Guangji River, reaching Yanzhou only on the twenty-fifth, covering no more than thirty li per day. It was not until the twenty-eighth that the field headquarters arrived at Daiyue Town.

As Commander-in-Chief of the field headquarters, Emperor Liu this time named Prince Yong, Liu Chenghsun, to take full responsibility for travel arrangements and security, and he specially found him two deputies: Yang Ye and Pan Mei.

According to Liu Chenghsun's original plan, the imperial tour east was to take the water route—traveling east along the Guangji River, passing through Liangshan Lake and turning onto the Wen River, one could reach Daiyue Town directly.

However, Emperor Liu rejected this, not because he disliked traveling by boat, nor because he was unaware of the convenience and comfort of the water route.

Rather, according to Liu Chenghsun's report, if they took the water route, to ensure the smooth passage of these seventy thousand people and all the baggage, the boats themselves were a minor problem—the key issue was that every stretch of the journey would require conscripting tens of thousands of civilian laborers to serve as trackers for towing.

And traveling that entire way, although it was less than four hundred li of waterway, although they could still pay in money and grain, the drain on civilian manpower was unavoidable.

Especially during the critical spring plowing season—and more importantly, it made Emperor Liu think of Emperor Yang of the Sui Dynasty... Although it was somewhat saying one thing and doing another, somewhat hypocritical and vainglorious, Emperor Liu still decided to conserve civilian labor as much as possible, not to disturb the normal order of the common people, and especially not to delay agricultural work.

Even though Emperor Liu knew full well in his heart that it was impossible to have no impact at all, as long as it could make him feel slightly better and release some of his anxiety, that was enough.

And switching to the land route meant a hard journey, consuming much time, and the actual expenditure would far exceed that of water transport. More carts, horses, and livestock would be needed, and the feeding of people and animals along the way was no small sum—but compared to conscripting tens of thousands of commoners from along the route specifically to tow the Son of Heaven's boats, it sounded better.

People are often burdened by reputation, and as an emperor, even more so.

Of course, looking on the optimistic side, this traveling party of over seventy thousand people, with all its consumption along the way, could also slightly stimulate the local economy. In all of Emperor Liu's previous tours, there had been dedicated public funds for daily expenses, and local tribute offerings were strictly prohibited.

And seventy thousand people was not the final number of participants in this Fengshan ceremony. As the imperial carriage traveled east, a great many officials and commoners spontaneously rushed toward Mount Tai.

Among the officials, those from the Central Plains circuits and prefectures were especially prominent; as for the gentry and common folk, they were stirred into action by the news. Perhaps they did not directly participate, but that did not stop them from experiencing up close this first great event since the founding of the Great Han more than twenty years ago.

Of course, the lowly common people, busy making a living, had no such leisure; those who were truly enthusiastic were the scholars, landowners, and merchants from all corners of the realm.

At the same time, another group was invited: the envoys of the various states and the representatives of the various peoples and powers within and beyond the Great Han. Clearly, the Fengshan sacrifices were not just a grand event of the Great Han, not just Emperor Liu and his court playing behind closed doors—they also required the joint participation of neighboring states. Even envoys from the Khitan in Mobei received invitations.

By the first day of the third month, the various people gathered in Yanzhou already exceeded one hundred thousand, and Mount Tai had not seen such bustle in over two hundred years.

Amid the clamor and commotion, under the eager anticipation of the multitude, Emperor Liu's Fengshan ceremony proceeded in an orderly fashion according to the original plan, building toward its climax.

Only, when the moment was at hand, Emperor Liu instead felt some regret...