Chapter 1641: The Grand Court Assembly

The twentieth year of Kaibao, summer, the eighth day of the sixth month.

The first light of dawn had just begun to show, the sky still hazy. Before Chongyuan Hall, the nobles and aristocrats of the Eastern Capital, along with the assembled civil and military officials, were slowly ascending the hall's terrace via the covered walkways, removing their shoes before entering.

Everything proceeded in perfect order, the atmosphere solemn and dignified. Those permitted to attend the Grand Court Assembly were all officials of the fifth rank or above, or remonstrating ministers such as censors, Reminders, and Rectifiers. For most of the upper echelons of power, even rising this early was a rarity in the course of a year.

The court assembly system remained one of the most solemn institutions of the court, but after all these years, it had in truth become little more than a formality. By now, no official truly believed that any substantive matter could be resolved through a court assembly.

Yet whenever an assembly was convened, something major was afoot—this too was the consensus of nearly everyone at court. So then, what was the matter today? This question inevitably arose in every heart.

Many could not help but cast their gazes toward the senior ministers seated at the front, hoping to glean something from their reactions—though of course it was a futile effort. Every one of them was a wily old fox, deeply calculating and unfathomable.

Inside Chongyuan Hall, several rows of palace lanterns illuminated the chamber brilliantly. Palace eunuchs stood with hands folded, serving respectfully along both sides, while the assembled officials took their seats in order of rank. After all, this was not the Qianyuan Hall of the Western Capital, and with such a full complement of attendees, the never-expanded Chongyuan Hall seemed somewhat "crowded."

With people seated so close together, relationships seemed drawn nearer as well, making conversation easier. Some restrained murmurs naturally arose within the hall. Before the Emperor arrived, there was still room for discussion and quiet maneuvering.

"This assembly has come abruptly—quite out of the ordinary!" Several remonstrating officials seated near the rear of the hall, seeing the scale of the gathering, could not help but whisper among themselves.

"Indeed! It is neither a festival nor some grand ceremony, and His Majesty has not held a grand assembly for two months. One wonders what this could be about?"

"Could it be the matter of Hexi?"

"I don't think so. Though the Hexi case has shaken the court and the realm, given His Majesty's style of handling affairs, action has already been taken both in the halls of power and in the northwest. The relevant departments have long since dispatched capable officials to investigate. Under such circumstances, why bring it up at a grand assembly..."

"Well said. We only received the notice yesterday evening—it does seem rather hasty!"

"Even Duke Rong, who has long retired from court affairs, has come out!" One person gazed toward Zhao Kuangyin's position in the front ranks, his eyes carrying a hint of probing curiosity.

"Something major must be afoot!"

Such was always the way at court—at the slightest stirring, rumors and gossip inevitably flew. But for most, it went no further than that. While those below speculated endlessly, how could the ministers who held great power not have their own guesses?

And they, with sharper ears, better information, and keener instincts—even so, at this moment, it was as if a layer of mist hung before their eyes, impossible to penetrate.

In the past, whenever a grand assembly approached, preparations were made well in advance, the relevant agenda items organized, even the procedures fixed. But this time, it was clearly different.

As the murmuring grew, the noise inevitably became clamorous, swelling louder and louder. On this Chongyuan Hall where the elite had gathered, the atmosphere momentarily resembled that of the teahouses and taverns within the Eastern Capital.

Seeing this, Zhao Pu, who had been seated in the foremost seat of the ministers with his eyes closed in repose, opened them. He swept his gaze around the hall, then gave two heavy coughs. The coughs were short and forceful, carrying remarkable penetrating power, as if imbued with a special energy. In an instant, the atmosphere of the hall shifted. Gradually, the murmuring ceased. Everyone held their breath, daring not to speak further, quietly awaiting Emperor Liu's arrival.

This wait lasted roughly two quarters of an hour, inevitably stirring some surprise and unease. It was not that these ministers lacked patience, but that strange sensation lingered in their hearts. On such formal, solemn occasions, Emperor Liu almost never kept the full assembly of courtiers waiting so long in idle suspense.

Only when Yan Tuo sang out in his high, piercing voice, "His Majesty arrives!" did everyone straighten their postures, rise, and bow in welcome. At that moment, all their petty thoughts seemed to cease.

Emperor Liu arrived together with the Crown Prince, Liu Yang. Clad in a simple dragon robe, he made his grand entrance beneath the gazes of all—some reverent, some fearful. His expression was calm as ever, betraying not the slightest irregularity, yet still none dared to look at him directly.

The Crown Prince followed half a step behind, his gait steady, though his demeanor seemed to carry a hint more gravity than usual.

Ascending the vermilion dais, taking his seat, and receiving the obeisance of the assembled officials, Emperor Liu swept his gaze across the hall once, letting it linger briefly on Zhao Pu and Lu Duoxun, then waved his hand grandly, bidding them to rise.

This court assembly unfolded in an unremarkable manner. Some matters were indeed discussed—such as elevating the status of law-enforcement officials and establishing ranks and grades for constables throughout the realm.

This was a matter of following the natural course of things. The Great Han had long maintained a system separating officials from functionaries, with a vast gulf between the two. There were tens of thousands of officials and functionaries across the realm, but those who held formal appointments from the court were a minority—and that proportion was steadily shrinking.

Taking a single county as an example: those with true official status were only the County Magistrate, the County Defender, and the Registrar. All others were unranked miscellaneous functionaries. Yet the ones who actually did the work were precisely these functionaries, and they constituted the largest and most fundamental group within the Great Han's administrative system.

The question of elevating the status and treatment of functionaries had been debated at court for many years, but no conclusion had ever been reached. There were many who supported it, but even more who opposed it.

Most people viewed the matter from the standpoint of class, firmly opposing the merging of officials and functionaries, seeking to preserve the dignity and standing of the official class. Others considered the fiscal implications—such an elevation would be comprehensive in scope, and if passed, the court would face another enormous expenditure each year in supporting functionaries.

This resolution to elevate the status of constables was, in a sense, formally opening a crack in the door—the result of multiple converging factors. After all, constables and yamen runners belonged to the state's coercive apparatus, the primary force for maintaining public order and combating crime, and they deserved to be taken seriously.

In the past, many military officers, upon retirement, had been placed into the local public-security system. This had created a situation where men who held officer ranks in the army found themselves reduced to unranked roles upon transferring to local posts—even though their responsibilities and actual authority were by no means small. This disparity left many feeling unsettled, and their complaints had grown numerous enough to reach the ears of the throne.

On the other hand, in light of the deteriorating public-security conditions across the realm revealed by the Hexi case, the court had already decided to conduct a comprehensive rectification of law enforcement nationwide. To make constables exert themselves wholeheartedly, this was a sweetener offered in advance, to boost their motivation.

Clearly, this was yet another adjustment to the Great Han's official-functionary system. It could be anticipated that further refinements would follow in the future. As for the results and the impact, those remained to be seen.

Such was always the nature of the grand assembly—it was not a place for deliberation. Compared to discussing affairs of state, it was more like a declaration ceremony, a matter of going through the motions. All the courtiers had long grown accustomed to this. Nearly everyone knew that when matters of national importance required discussion, they were handled in the Hall of State Affairs, in Chongzheng Hall.

And this grand assembly was clearly not merely about announcing a decision. After the matter of elevating the constables' rank was settled, Chongzheng Hall quickly fell silent, the atmosphere turning grave, gradually oppressive.

Emperor Liu sat high upon the throne, calmly surveying the assembled ministers. After a long moment, he finally spoke in a leisurely tone: "It has been long since we held a grand assembly, long since I have seen so many of my ministers. Some of you have not seen me in quite some time. With such a rare opportunity, is there no one who has words to speak, no one with matters to memorialize?"

At these words, many exchanged glances of bewilderment. Even the remonstrating officials in the rear showed hesitation on their faces—this posture did not seem like one inviting remonstrance or memorials.

"Your servant, Investigating Censor Wang Yucheng, has a matter to memorialize!" At this moment, the "thick-headed" one stepped forward, drawing the eyes of the entire hall.

But upon seeing it was Wang Yucheng, many put away their looks of surprise. After the "Children's Rhyme Case" of years past, nearly everyone had come to know this young remonstrating official who was bold as could be, daring to speak frankly before the throne.

Though there were many remonstrating officials at court, and not a few who acted as Wang Yucheng did, few of them came to good ends. The key, in the end, was Emperor Liu's mood and his judgment. Emperor Liu always possessed a pair of "discerning eyes"—some men he deemed loyal ministers offering honest counsel, while others he judged as using bluntness to curry favor.

After the "Children's Rhyme Case" back then, Wang Yucheng had been sidelined for over half a year, living in idle retirement while studying scholarship and composing poetry and rhapsodies. But half a year later, Emperor Liu thought of the man again, and with a single edict, restored him to his post—and even promoted him.

Now, seeing Wang Yucheng leap up once more, most people felt a measure of curiosity. On such an occasion, what would this "iron-headed lad" have to say this time?