Chapter 1609: Contradiction

Say what you will, the reason the Crown Princess's intention to adopt Liu Wenji caused such an uproar, aside from the ongoing strife within the Eastern Palace, lay most critically in Xiao's identity.

The earlier attempt to adopt Liu Wenhuan, though sensational, had not stirred such a clamor. Xiao Siwen had defected to the Han for nearly a decade now. Through years of diligent service and Xiao Yanyan's favored status, the Xiao clan had essentially integrated into the Great Han and been accepted by high society.

But acceptance was acceptance; that intangible exclusion always remained. Though their Han surname was Xiao, the mark of "Khitan" on them could never be erased.

Under Emperor Liu's governance, the Great Han was by and large tolerant and open. To sustain so vast an empire, it needed to politically absorb heroes of all peoples for its own use.

But politics was politics. Beneath the veneer of compatibility and harmony, at the root, it was still extremely exclusive. Even toward domestic non-Han peoples, vigilance was acute, as could be seen from the policies toward barbarian subjects implemented over the years.

On the other hand, the peerage inheritance system personally constructed by Emperor Liu, after nearly twenty years of development, had been deeply etched into the bones of the Great Han's upper class.

And what did the inheritance of Great Han peerages value most? Bloodline! Primogeniture by the eldest legitimate son was the clearest, most direct description of it.

In the past, ministers did not care that there were a Consort Yelu and a Consort Xiang in the Han palace, nor that there was a Consort Xiao in the Eastern Palace. But when their sensitive spots were touched, the backlash was enormous.

The purpose of Crown Princess Murong's desire to adopt Liu Wenji, from her petty feminine mentality, was to cope with the impact and pressure brought by the Zhao mother and son, to have a support for the future. A son is honored by his mother, and vice versa.

But the act itself carried immense political significance — a point perhaps even she herself did not grasp. But though she did not understand it, the ministers of the Great Han court saw it with perfect clarity.

If she succeeded, Liu Wenji could immediately complete his identity transformation, becoming the most legitimate in status among the imperial grandsons — legally speaking, the second in line to the throne.

But half Khitan blood flowed in his veins, and that was something many found hard to accept. It had nothing to do with whether the Xiao clan was low-key or loyal; it was itself an insurmountable chasm, a psychological barrier many could not cross.

Thus, when the news spread, the court buzzed with discussion and unanimous opposition. The Zhao family's opposition was predictable — it was also the first time Zhao Kuangyin, who had been "playing dead" for so many years, took a clear, unambiguous stance on a matter.

Zhao Kuangyi, who had recently returned to court, always had many ideas and high political ambitions. Even knowing he might overstep, he felt compelled to submit a memorial advising against the matter.

As for the other ministers, no collusion with the Zhao family was needed — many submitted memorials of their own accord, one after another, righteous and indignant, sincere in their words, hoping to draw Emperor Liu's attention.

Two groups were the most vehement: one was the pure-stream remonstrance officials, the other the meritorious aristocracy. They insisted on upholding the orthodox line and preserving tradition.

It had been who knows how many years since the court, high and low, nobles and ministers, had been so united in opposing a single matter with one voice. Such a situation was rare indeed.

There were also some opportunists, not positioning themselves between Murong and Zhao, but rather "reading" Emperor Liu's intentions.

The Xiao family came from the Khitan. Emperor Liu's attitude toward the Khitan over all these years was no secret — he wished nothing less than to exterminate the entire people. Under such circumstances, how could he possibly permit this, permit the possibility of the Great Han's realm falling into "foreign" hands?

But clearly, most people ultimately did not understand Emperor Liu. His breadth of mind — narrow when it needed to be narrow, magnanimous when it needed to be magnanimous.

Though he was a thoroughgoing nationalist, that was directed outward. Xiao Yanyan, who married the Crown Prince, and the son she bore, naturally belonged to the "inner" circle — within the Great Han, and within the imperial house.

Even setting aside the question of succession, he would not hold special prejudice, and could at least treat them normally. As for the child Liu Wenji, Emperor Liu had no objections — it was plain to see the boy was clever and well-behaved, cut from the same mold as Liu Yang in his childhood.

On the matter of bloodline, Emperor Liu was not so narrow-minded either. Regardless of where the maternal clan came from, the child was still imperial blood, Liu Yang's own son, his imperial grandson.

Take their Liu family, take himself — perhaps a thousand years hence, people would still attack, slander, and defame him over his "Shatuo" identity.

Of course, for the present, the difference was considerable. "Shatuo" had gradually been forgotten by history. In the Great Han, whether in completed or in-progress historical records, the word "Shatuo" no longer appeared. In the eyes of both Emperor Liu himself and his ministers, the Liu family represented the orthodox succession of Chinese civilization.

But the Khitan were clearly different. Not to mention the past Han-Liao rivalry, the thirty-plus years of conflict and entanglement between the Great Han and the Khitan — even now, there remained a Khitan regime in Mobei stubbornly holding on, refusing to acknowledge imperial authority.

Regarding this matter, Emperor Liu naturally could not remain indifferent; doubts and considerations arose in his mind as well. He could understand the ministers' reactions and feelings, but when all spoke with one voice and public sentiment converged, did his old habit of suspicion and jealousy flare up again?

What was this supposed to be? Pressuring the throne, or rebellion? What had been merely a domestic matter of the Eastern Palace, an internal affair of the imperial house, had been blown up into such severity, stirring up a storm and nearly exposing the imperial family's internal discord to the whole world.

Emperor Liu's character had always been thus. He believed in schemes and trusted in struggle. When the entire court held the same opinion like this, far from heeding it, he would instead suspect and doubt — whether someone harbored ulterior motives and ill intentions, whether someone was stirring up trouble behind the scenes.

The ministers' reaction was intense, and the backlash at Emperor Liu's end was equally strong. What he had not cared much about suddenly became a matter of importance to him. Facing the surging tide of opinion, Emperor Liu, who had not intended to speak, commented flatly during a "visit" to the Hall of State Affairs, in front of the assembled chancellors: "The Eastern Palace's domestic affairs — why all this clamor?"

And so the heated debate was quelled, but the difficult problem was tossed to Crown Prince Liu Yang. When he again sought guidance from Emperor Liu, the latter was firm in his decision — let Liu Yang decide for himself.

In Emperor Liu's words: could he appoint the Crown Prince and also settle the matter of the imperial grandson? In the end, it was Liu Yang's own affair. This, in turn, made Liu Yang hesitate.

In recent years, he had indeed been somewhat annoyed by the discord between his two consorts, but toward his two sons, he was basically even-handed. As for the ministers' petition, Emperor Liu could forcefully ignore it, but Liu Yang lacked that kind of authority and was not hard enough — he harbored considerable misgivings. Thus, to this day, he still hesitated, unable to put a period to this storm.

And like Liu Yang, two other parties harbored similarly conflicted feelings. The first was naturally the Xiao family. Even Xiao Yanyan herself, facing this matter, was flattered yet terrified, treading on thin ice, daring not make any move at all — only becoming even more low-key. This was not something she, her son, or the Xiao clan could decide.

The second was the Murong family. The Murongs' prominence to this day came first from their contributions to the Great Han, from the legacy of Murong Yanzhao, and second from Crown Princess Murong Yue.

For the Murong family, the stability of Murong Yue's position was extremely important — but unfortunately, that position was growing increasingly unstable. Her belly had not been cooperative; when she finally conceived, she was given a daughter.

Thus, Consort Murong's adoption of an imperial grandson was understandable and supportable. But the problem lay precisely in why it had to be Liu Wenji, the son of the Xiao woman.

Of course, by now this was nearly the only solution to the problem — who could blame the Crown Prince for having only these two sons? Setting aside Liu Wenhuan, there was only Liu Wenji left...