Chapter 1590: Second Half of the Thirteenth Year of Kaibao

The death of the Pure Consort was considered a major event within the Bian Palace, determined by Emperor Liu's attitude. For this reason, Emperor Liu even held a funeral ceremony that could be called grand, and granted her the honor of being buried alongside him.

Emperor Liu's mausoleum, after two years of construction, had been completed and sealed. The site was chosen by the Imperial Observatory, located deep in Mang Mountain where few people tread, and was secretly built through a joint effort of the Court of the Imperial Treasury and the Ministry of Works. Even the name had been decided—it was called Gao Mausoleum.

In building his own mausoleum, Emperor Liu did not go to extravagant lengths, but neither was he overly stingy—it was still a massive construction project. However, he did not draw on state finances or manpower; all expenses came from his own private coffers. In this way, no one complained, and no one dared to complain. Emperor Liu gave only one directive regarding the mausoleum: concealed, secure, permanent, and sturdy.

If life could not have a proper beginning and end, then death could continue what came before. Letting the Pure Consort accompany him in the tomb was, in a way, a form of solace.

Emperor Liu was somewhat grieved by the Pure Consort's death, but this grief did not last long before he recovered. By comparison, Liu Hui and Liu Xuan, the brother and sister, were affected far more deeply—after all, from now on they could be considered "orphaned and alone."

To express his remembrance of the Pure Consort, Emperor Liu not only showed favor to the Zhou clan, represented by Zhou Fang, but also extended even more care to Liu Hui and his sister.

To Liu Hui, Emperor Liu bestowed the title of Vice Minister of Rites, formally freeing him from the bitter ordeal of military training and allowing him to begin participating in court affairs. In daily life, whatever food or clothing could be thought of, he also ordered gifts to be sent to the Duke of Wu's residence.

As for the Fifth Princess, Liu Xuan, Emperor Liu would from time to time summon her to his side to show his concern, and he personally discussed with Empress Fu the matter of her marriage once she came of age. He was determined to find her a worthy match, and agreed to listen to her own opinions—such treatment had previously been enjoyed only by the Eldest Princess, Liu Jia.

Of course, many could see that Emperor Liu's care was merely a transference of his guilt toward the Pure Consort onto these two siblings. And this residual favor and blessing could not last forever, but even so, this grace made those inside the palace envious and those outside the palace gossip.

In fact, this meticulous care for Liu Hui and his sister truly did not last long. After the winter month of the thirteenth year of Kaibao, there was no more follow-up. Emperor Liu returned to his previous state—days passed as usual, wine was drunk as usual, everything was as before, as if nothing much had changed. And the Pure Consort gradually faded from memory, beginning with Emperor Liu's own letting go.

In the second half of the thirteenth year of Kaibao, the most important matter at court was the formal push for military system reform. Using the imperial army of the Eastern Capital as a pilot, nearly five thousand officers and soldiers were retired or discharged, accumulating experience and identifying problems for a larger-scale reform.

By comparison, the situation at court tended toward calm, mainly because the contradiction between Zhao and Lu had been temporarily alleviated.

The internal court struggle triggered by the Yangzhou case was quelled under Emperor Liu's intervention, drawing a temporary full stop with Lu Duoxun's retreat.

Emperor Liu's forceful warning was quite effective. Lu Duoxun became much more subdued—at least in the second half of the thirteenth year of Kaibao, Emperor Liu no longer heard of Lu Duoxun glaring at Zhao Pu, blowing his beard, or pounding the table.

As Emperor Liu had said, Zhao Pu was, after all, the Chief Chancellor of the court, and the necessary respect should be shown. Lu Duoxun had clearly taken this to heart—and of course, he dared not do otherwise.

When Lu Duoxun quieted down, the central government—at least within the Hall of State Affairs—became much more harmonious. Judging by the results, Lu Duoxun was indeed one of the causes of court strife.

And the investigation into Yang Kefa, the Administration Commissioner of the Huaidong Circuit, which was led by Lu Duoxun, also fizzled out. After Hou Zhi and a batch of the principal offenders in the Yangzhou case were beheaded in autumn, it stopped completely. Of course, this was also a manifestation of Lu Duoxun's compromise—he would not dare to do something so utterly unpopular as to defy the will of heaven and all under heaven, and most importantly, he could not go against Emperor Liu's will.

In this struggle between Zhao and Lu, on the surface, Lu Duoxun had become dejected, and Zhao Pu should have been pleased—but he simply could not be pleased.

If anyone said Zhao Pu had no intention of using the Yangzhou case to deal with Lu Duoxun, Emperor Liu would not believe it—perhaps Zhao Pu himself did not believe it either. Since he had become chancellor, the chief ministers who partnered with him had changed batch after batch. Even Song Qi, Wang Qiwu, and Li Ye had never made Zhao Pu feel such disgust. Lu Duoxun was a man of arrogant and proud temperament, with too rigid a style, repeatedly putting Zhao Pu in an embarrassing position.

Moreover, his ambition was too obvious, his hostility too thick. He felt that Zhao Pu was squeezing his prospects and wanted nothing more than to take his place. Everything could be tolerated, but when it came to the core power of the Hall of State Affairs, not a single inch could be conceded. All the previous forbearance was merely accumulation for a day of eruption.

The Yangzhou case was, without a doubt, an opportunity—a handle that could be completely grasped, a flaw that could be attacked endlessly. Taking down a mere Prefect of Yangzhou like Hou Zhi was clearly not Zhao Pu's original intention. His goal was to push Lu Duoxun out of the court entirely, and even bringing charges against him was not out of the question.

However, while they fought in the Hall of State Affairs, Emperor Liu watched from Chongzheng Hall. When the referee stepped onto the field, that was a force majeure factor.

Judging from the results, after the Yangzhou case, Lu Duoxun's prestige plummeted, and the court was full of gossip and slander. But Zhao Pu truly could not be happy. Although Lu Duoxun had been punished—demoted and fined—these were all trivial matters.

What was even more excessive was that Emperor Liu placed the Censorate under Lu Duoxun's supervision. While his reputation suffered, his actual power was instead strengthened. How could Zhao Pu accept this?

But no matter how dissatisfied he was in his heart, he could not show it. He still had to praise Emperor Liu's wisdom and accept it with a smile. Of course, what made Zhao Pu most wary was Emperor Liu's attitude. Supporting Lu Duoxun in this way—who could say that one day Emperor Liu might truly let Lu Duoxun replace him? Simply put, it was nothing more than a matter of Emperor Liu's word.

With Zhao Pu's shrewdness, how could he not see that Emperor Liu was using Lu Duoxun to check and balance him? Recalling him to the central government was precisely to have him play the opposing role against Zhao Pu.

This was not surprising, but what Zhao Pu found hard to accept was—why did it have to be Lu Duoxun of all people? Song Qi and Wang Qiwu were so much better; they were gentlemen. Lu Duoxun was a petty man, and petty men were the hardest to guard against.

Although Lu Duoxun had taken a fall this time, been taught a lesson, and become somewhat dejected, as long as such a person still had a breath in him, who could say when he might jump out and bite back in revenge.

There was no such thing as guarding against a thief for a thousand days. And after this incident, Lu Duoxun would clearly become even harder to deal with—this was what depressed Zhao Pu the most.

With Zhao Pu in such a state of mind, beneath the calm surface of the court, undercurrents were still quietly gathering, waiting only for the next eruption. This was inherently a cyclical matter—as long as Lu Duoxun remained in the central government, it was unavoidable.

Of course, it would be the same with someone else. After all, there was only one position of Chief Chancellor, and the power of the chancellorship was limited. Many ministers shared it, yet one took the lion's share, and everyone else would want to take a bit more—this was human nature, and also politics. Only, with a different person, perhaps they would not be as aggressive as Lu Duoxun, aggressive to the point of being completely undisguised.

Lu Duoxun, having stepped back, had only temporarily extinguished his intention to confront Zhao Pu head-on, but he did not stop working. After obtaining the authority to oversee the Censorate, he immediately made his mark with three fires upon taking office.

The first fire was to reorganize the Censorate from top to bottom, dismissing a batch of people he considered "idle and useless." Of course, many knew this was retaliation, because some among them had submitted memorials criticizing Lu Duoxun.

The second fire was, in accordance with Emperor Liu's will, using the Yangzhou case as a lesson, to launch another wave of official discipline campaigns both inside and outside the court, vigorously cracking down on corruption and abuse of the law.

Lu Duoxun was by no means relaxed. At the same time, through his work in the supervisory departments, he continued to expand and enhance his influence. However, he had offended quite a few people—but of course, he was not afraid of offending people, for he had sworn an oath to Emperor Liu that he would rather be a lone minister, and he dared not merely pay lip service.

. wap.