Chapter 1617: King of Andong?

By the time Liu Xu took his leave of Emperor Liu and departed the palace for his residence, the night had grown deep. Thick darkness shrouded the city of Kaifeng, with faint wisps of mist visible in the air, and a chill that seemed to pierce straight to the heart.

The spring night was quiet and serene, but the lights of ten thousand households, scattered like stars, adorned the Eastern Capital. Especially in the wards near the imperial city and the Heavenly Avenue, where noble families with vermilion gates clustered together, most lamps burned until midnight, and some stayed lit through the night. "The Great Han, the city that never sleeps" — that was the most direct description of the Eastern Capital.

However, Liu Xu had no interest whatsoever in taking in the night scenery of the Eastern Capital. No matter how beautiful the view, it could not ease his restless, anxious mood. On the way back to his residence, seated upright in his carriage, scenes from Chongzheng Hall moments ago kept flashing through his mind as he replayed his conversation with Emperor Liu.

It had been a heart-to-heart talk between father and son for the first time in many years. Yet even sitting face to face, Liu Xu felt as though a mountain stood between him and Emperor Liu, a mountain shrouded in mist that made him impossible to fathom.

What made Liu Xu most anxious was Emperor Liu's meaningful attitude and his meaningful questions. Throughout the entire conversation, Emperor Liu had not said much about the situation in Andong or Liu Xu's conduct there, and the report Liu Xu had prepared in advance — on Andong's circumstances, internal and external problems, and future development — never made it out of his mouth.

For Liu Xu, he too faced an extremely weighty matter, a choice of vital importance to his future life, and even to his entire bloodline.

Though the words were not spoken plainly, Liu Xu could vaguely discern Emperor Liu's intent. To be the Prince of Qin, or to be the Prince of Andong?

Was this the choice Emperor Liu had placed before him? For most people, this would be an easy choice to make.

Prince of Qin — this was one of the most weighty princely titles in the Great Han, a super-grade imperial prince title that could only be conferred upon direct members of the imperial clan. Prince of Andong — neither fish nor fowl, barely qualifying as a Commandery Prince. The gap between the two was plain to see.

But Liu Xu was no ordinary man after all. What he could see was not merely the difference in status between the two princely titles; he also saw the political significance behind them.

Prince of Andong — perhaps it could also be called King of Andong. If he were re-enfeoffed, then he could become a "sovereign," truly holding all military and civil authority over the Andong region, without having to endure the censure and criticism of all these past years.

Emperor Liu had not said it explicitly, but Liu Xu understood the meaning. However, that was precisely the problem — after all these years of painstaking effort and relentless pursuit, was it all for the sake of a mere King of Andong?

The idea of enfeoffing a king had probably still not been settled in Emperor Liu's mind even now, which was why he had not spoken plainly to Liu Xu. But Liu Xu also deeply realized that if things were as he suspected, once he accepted this arrangement, then for the rest of his life — and even for his eldest son's line — there would be no possibility whatsoever of ever reaching for the supreme throne of the Great Han.

Of course, even without this matter, his chances of succession were extremely slim. But no matter how slim, there was still a faint glimmer of possibility. What if some accident occurred? What if some upheaval happened in the court?

Liu Xu had harbored this faint glimmer of hope before — a supposition, one might even say a delusion — but he was willing to strive for it and had enough patience to wait.

However, if Emperor Liu truly enfeoffed him as King of Andong, then there was no doubt that his chances of contending for the succession would be completely severed on legal grounds.

In the past, Liu Xu had been so diligent and conscientious in Andong — what was his purpose? To build his reputation, gather his strength, and await the right moment. Though the court's stability was formidable and Crown Prince Liu Yang's position was so secure as to be despair-inducing, Liu Xu's prestige, strength, and influence had all grown markedly.

But a mere Andong — even with full military and civil authority in hand — compared to the imperial throne of the Great Han, was still the difference between the light of a firefly and the radiance of the bright moon.

As Prince of Andong, even counting all the barbarian tribes within his borders, the population might not reach one million. The place was remote, bitter, and cold. Compared to sitting at court governing the state and commanding the hundreds of millions of subjects of the Great Han, the vast disparity made it truly difficult for Liu Xu to accept with equanimity.

Liu Xu even could not help wondering — had he done something wrong again, arousing Emperor Liu's suspicion, prompting such a notion to exile him to the frontier forever?

But such speculation was quickly dismissed by his own reasoning. Judging from Emperor Liu's attitude during the conversation, that was clearly not the reason, nor was it because of his bold and aggressive policies or his arbitrary, self-directed methods in Andong.

Since the Dengwen Drum case, Liu Xu had made no more "little moves." He had even faced Emperor Liu with complete candor, holding nothing back. Liu Xu knew that his ambitions for the succession could not be hidden from Emperor Liu's eyes. Since they could not be hidden, he might as well not hide them at all, displaying them openly and honestly before Emperor Liu.

Liu Xu's hard work in Andong was also meant to show Emperor Liu his capacity and talent, hoping to gain recognition and earn trust.

But tonight's conversation had dashed nearly all his hopes and aspirations. His efforts and achievements ultimately had a ceiling, and if that ceiling was King of Andong, it was truly heartbreaking.

Perhaps he was overthinking, but as he saw it, Emperor Liu was telling him: no matter how you struggle, you have no chance of inheriting the throne; no matter how hard you try, you cannot compete with Liu Yang.

Though this was the reality, at least in the past Emperor Liu had never "shown his cards" to him like this. And indeed, in the past, Emperor Liu had trusted and valued Liu Xu greatly, and his cultivation of him had been unreserved.

At this thought, Liu Xu could not help but feel a deep, quiet sorrow.

Of course, Liu Xu also understood Emperor Liu well enough to know that even making such a decision would have been very difficult for him. What inner journey Emperor Liu had undergone before conceiving the idea of enfeoffment, Liu Xu could not know, nor could he afford to dwell on it. At this moment, he was filled only with confusion and uncertainty.

And even the enfeoffment itself was a result Liu Xu found hard to accept. He was a Prince. If he were truly to be enfeoffed with a territory, the place he should be stationed should be within the Passes — Qinlong. What was Andong? Calling it a poor and remote backwater would already be flattering it...

Rely on Andong to contend for the realm? No one with a clear head would entertain such a fanciful notion.

However, Liu Xu was well aware on this point as well — enfeoffment in Qinlong was impossible. Not to mention within the Passes or Qinlong, even Hexi was out of the question. That too was a core interest of the Great Han Empire, a place vital to the security of the entire northwestern frontier. The highly centralized Great Han court had to maintain strong control and influence over it.

Liu Xu had served in the court for many years; this much understanding of Emperor Liu and the court, he did possess.

His heart was tangled with conflict, his mind a mess of confusion. Liu Xu knew that he had now come to the greatest crossroads of his life. Behind that crossroads lay two paths: one dim and chaotic, filled with unpredictable risks; the other clear in its future, but limited in its prospects.

Liu Xu did not directly state his thoughts to Emperor Liu. When Emperor Liu asked whether he would rather be Prince of Qin or King of Andong, he only answered vaguely: "Whether Prince of Qin or King of Andong, I am still Father's son, and still a subject of the Great Han..."

Emperor Liu had not forcefully decided the matter, but instead asked his opinion and gave him room to choose. Yet from Liu Xu's perspective, that room was hardly sufficient.

Liu Xu also wondered — if he refused, how would Emperor Liu arrange for him then? On this, he too felt somewhat lost.

Though it was deep in the night, the Prince of Qin's residence had not yet settled down. The servants who had accompanied him back to the capital were still busy organizing and settling in. Since there was no telling how long this stay in the capital would last, the residence naturally required careful and thorough cleaning.

But Liu Xu paid no attention to any of this. Upon returning to the residence, he avoided everyone and shut himself directly in his study, alone. He refused to see even his maternal uncle, cousins, and brothers-in-law who had come eagerly to pay their respects, and even his consort, Lady Bai, dared not disturb him.

Liu Xu indeed needed to think carefully about how to walk the road ahead.