Chapter 1545: When Emperor Liu Sneezes, the Court Trembles Three Times

After returning from Mount Tai, Emperor Liu had become much more subdued—he had no choice but to be subdued, for the entire empire had been in turmoil for nearly a year over various affairs.

Of course, this was partly due to self-critical reflection on the Fengshan sacrifices, but also because he truly lacked the energy to stir things up, and it was no longer appropriate to do so.

A flood and plague disaster had spread widely, nearly draining the vitality of all of Henan and half of Hebei—all of this required time to slowly recuperate and recover.

Immediately after, grain production fell in the Central Plains, Huainan, and Jiangnan, causing famine within certain areas. Though it did not starve tens of thousands to death or produce vast waves of refugees, it still added no small amount of trouble to the court.

While Emperor Liu performed the Fengshan sacrifices at Mount Tai, the Great Han had fallen ill in some ways, but even a common cold needs careful nursing. Probably out of such considerations, Emperor Liu had no choice but to keep his involvement minimal and maintain tranquility.

Though he kept saying, kept insisting, that he practiced rule by non-interference—the Crown Prince helping to watch over the state, and chancellors like Zhao Pu handling court affairs—he could rest easy, dwelling peacefully in the dragon court and enjoying his blessings.

And in these years, especially in the years after the Second Northern Expedition, Emperor Liu had indeed lived up to that claim. It could be said with certainty that in the twenty-five years of Emperor Liu's reign, it was the most recent three years in which he was the most remiss and interfered least in court politics, delegating most of the authority over court affairs to the Hall of State Affairs.

Even regarding the Fengshan sacrifices, Emperor Liu appeared indifferent, not participating much—everything was arranged by Zhao Pu and the others below before the edict was issued. At most, after the great disaster in the Central Plains, he gave a slight indication of his stance in response to Zhao Pu's request for instructions on the preparations.

Were it not for the great disaster of the tenth year of Kaibao, Emperor Liu's presence might have been even lower—he would not have so actively issued edicts and spoken out to encourage officials and the people.

Of course, the reason for this situation lay, first, in the adjustment of national strategic policy after the Northern Expedition. Once the general direction was set, with Zhao Pu and his cohort managing things, there was no need for Emperor Liu to expend further energy or effort—he could turn his attention to areas that interested him.

Second, and most importantly, the reason lay in Emperor Liu himself. Both in body and mind, he was utterly exhausted, and with his goals gradually blurring and his former passion lost, it was inevitable that he would grow remiss.

Even though Empress Fu had reminded him over the years, and Emperor Liu had periodically warned himself, this change akin to "degeneration" still crept up on him silently.

For an emperor—especially one who had achieved such tremendous accomplishments, establishing merits rivaling those of the First Emperor of Qin and Emperor Wu of Han—it was simply too difficult to forever maintain an uplifting spirit and preserve an attitude of pressing forward.

For Emperor Liu, from the perspective of his imperial career, the storms and trials of the past twenty-five years had been rather long. Even looking across all the emperors of history, such a reign was not short—it ranked among the notable ones.

Over such a long span of time, even Emperor Liu could not help but sink into it, growing dull, growing conservative, growing numb, growing stubborn, growing degenerate.

Not to mention the past three years—even after the Kaibao era began, even after setting the goal of forging a golden age, Emperor Liu had already drifted far from the sage ruler he once was.

In fact, Emperor Liu had already been quite restrained. Under his management, the Great Han's imperial authority was as solid as iron, and he genuinely held the power of life and death over all under heaven, standing above everything. It could be said that if Emperor Liu wished to indulge himself, he could treat the entire Great Han Empire as his private garden, taking whatever he pleased.

However, Emperor Liu simply lacked refinement and taste—he had few interests, few opportunities for hedonistic dissipation. Moreover, his mind remained largely clear, and he understood restraint, which was why he had not completely plunged into the abyss of degeneracy.

By now, the only thing that could stir Emperor Liu's emotions was a single word: power. If two words: imperial power. For Emperor Liu, as long as imperial power remained secure, as long as the overall situation stayed in his grasp and he could suppress any situation at any time, then other people and matters mattered little to him.

But perhaps sensing his own change, perhaps weary of the tedium of staying behind the scenes, or perhaps dissatisfied with his own remissness, in the summer of the eleventh year of Kaibao, Emperor Liu became considerably more active.

This activism was not reflected in his personal life, but in renewed interest in court politics. It was different from the past few years, when he passively waited for chancellors and ministers of the departments to seek audience and report, or for the inner court to filter and organize important memorials before presenting them to him.

Emperor Liu began proactively inquiring into military and governmental affairs, issuing direct approvals. When problems arose, he directly summoned the relevant officials and clerks to question them. In a single day, Emperor Liu spent roughly three shichen reading memorials and handling state affairs—even specific trivial matters began to draw his attention.

This change caused no small stir at court. For ordinary bureaucrats devoted to practical matters and dutiful in their posts, there was not much reaction—some even rejoiced that His Majesty had become diligent again. After all, Chancellor Zhao Pu was not easy to serve, and though Emperor Liu was equally hard to please, at least he was the Emperor.

And the court had never lacked "shrewd" people, nor those who speculated on the imperial will—eyes fixed on Emperor Liu had never once looked away.

Within the court, shifts in sentiment began. Many could not help but speculate: was Emperor Liu's behavior a sign that he intended to reclaim the governing authority he had delegated? And further, did it mean Emperor Liu was dissatisfied with Zhao Pu? Was the power structure at the center of the court about to change?

After much deliberation, many reached the conclusion: this was entirely possible!

In the years of Zhao Pu's stewardship, the Great Han had achieved much—defeating Liao externally and driving them to Mobei, expanding the territory until it was nearly bursting at the seams. Internally, he had spearheaded a series of political and economic reforms, footing the bill for the Great Han's expansion and Emperor Liu's military achievements.

But equally, many problems had emerged—fiscal crises, border instability, great calamities and disasters. Most importantly, he had played the role of vanguard in suppressing the powerful and privileged, offending too many people in the process.

Since the great rains in the Central Plains last year, there had already been no small number of attacks against Zhao Pu. At that time, it was Emperor Liu's steadfast support that suppressed those dissenting voices.

But who could be certain that Emperor Liu was completely at ease with Zhao Pu, that his trust was without reservation? Anyone who knew Emperor Liu even slightly would not think so.

And so, rumors arose at court once more. This sort of thing seemed impossible to ban forever—when the slightest wind stirred above, storms might sweep the city below.

For Zhao Pu, it was indeed somewhat awkward, because even he himself was uncertain—what exactly did Emperor Liu mean? Was he wary of Zhao Pu's power? Or dissatisfied with Zhao Pu himself?

But what puzzled him was that, upon carefully reviewing his recent conduct, he had done nothing out of line—he had frequently gone to Emperor Liu to report on affairs and pay his respects. If there were dissatisfaction, then during the Fengshan sacrifices, Emperor Liu had personally selected him to present the offerings—what great honor that was.

If not recent events, then one would have to look further back, and then there would be far more and more complex matters to consider—truly mind-burning. But no matter how he thought, Zhao Pu could not find an answer. As for probing or questioning Emperor Liu directly, Zhao Pu did not dare.

And so, in the summer of the eleventh year of Kaibao, in the court of the Eastern Capital, Zhao Pu suddenly felt a sense of "power slipping from his hands." Quite a few officials in the departments below began bypassing him—and even the Crown Prince—to report directly to Emperor Liu.

There was nothing abnormal about this in itself—ministers of the departments also had the right to seek audience with the Emperor and report. It was merely different from the recent norm in which the court's center revolved around Zhao Pu. In the past, when ministers came to Emperor Liu, unless it was a special situation, his reply was generally to refer them to the Crown Prince or Zhao Pu.

Word from the court inevitably reached Emperor Liu's ears, and after learning of it, he was rather speechless. His sudden involvement in court politics was not aimed at Zhao Pu, nor was it to reclaim all the authority over handling affairs—after all, he no longer had the strength for that.

This change was merely an adjustment based on his own condition—how could he have imagined that those below, including Zhao Pu, would spin so many speculations from it?

Originally, Emperor Liu had not thought much of it, but after learning of those rumors, he began to ponder: did Zhao Pu command more support or more resentment at court? And if he truly were to reclaim the delegated governing authority, would those ministers hope for it or not?