Chapter 175: Succession Before the Coffin

In Wansui Hall, white funeral banners and plain curtains filled the space, with the coffin and spirit tablet set in the center. Liu Zhiyuan's remains had been cleaned, bathed in fragrant water, dressed in fresh garments, and after anti-decay measures were taken, directly encoffined. At the founding of the state, ritual institutions were incomplete, and moreover, Liu Zhiyuan had issued an edict before his death: funeral matters were to be handled simply, not wasting treasury funds, not disturbing the common people. But even with the imperial edict, an emperor's funeral could hardly be truly simple.

There was no concealment of the death, and there was no dispute over the succession. Liu Chengyou had served as Crown Prince overseeing state affairs for so long that the court situation remained generally stable.

However, news of the emperor's passing still spread out of the palace at tremendous speed and swept through the entire city. As for this, officials in the capital, regardless of their feelings, all squeezed out a few tears and wailed a few times loud enough for neighbors to hear, while putting away festive ornaments in their homes and ordering mourning garments to be prepared.

In comparison, the common folk of the Eastern Capital reacted far more coldly. Although Liu Zhiyuan was the founding sovereign, he was not the kind of wise ruler renowned for "benevolence and love for the people," making it hard for anyone to feel much grief for him. Moreover, the emperor's death and the succession of the throne were problems for the court's civil and military officials to worry about.

Among ordinary people, aside from certain idle gossips with nothing better to do, how many would actually care about the emperor's life or death? Of course, it was impossible to be completely indifferent either. Since the Three Dynasties, whenever a new sovereign took the throne, it was always a time of frequent upheaval—never once had there been a smooth transition.

Life these days was hard, but at least they had been stable through this winter. Now spring was about to arrive, and the emperor was gone. They didn't care who became emperor, but how the change of sovereign would affect their livelihoods was something they couldn't help but worry about.

Inside Wansui Hall, it was very cold, with white mist forming. Beside the coffin were placed many blocks of ice—a necessary measure for preservation. White candles stood in rows all around. Liu Chengyou, dressed in mourning clothes, had been kneeling before the coffin for an entire night. His body was utterly exhausted, but his spirit was highly agitated, unable to relax at all. It wasn't that he felt much joy—rather, he felt immense pressure, tension, even confusion, and he himself didn't know what he was confused about.

"Erlang, go rest for a while." A voice tinged with sorrow sounded softly by Liu Chengyou's ear.

Liu Chengyou shook his head: "It's fine."

The proper posture had to be maintained, and maintained thoroughly. Of course, Liu Zhiyuan had been beyond reproach toward Liu Chengyou, and although Liu Chengyou's temperament was cold, he was not heartless—he was willing.

Lady Li crouched before Liu Chengyou, reached out and gently stroked his weary face, still speaking softly: "During the day, there are great matters requiring your effort. Your mother knows you are filial and respectful, but at this moment, the greatest filial piety toward your father is to succeed the throne smoothly, take charge of state affairs, reassure the people, and stabilize the realm!"

Lady Li was truly a strong and wise woman, understanding the greater picture and knowing her place.

Under Lady Li's persuasion, Liu Chengyou finally rose and moved about. Exiting the hall, a gust of cool wind struck him. He rubbed his face vigorously, slightly relieving his fatigue. Leaning on the stone railing, he gazed at the dim morning light, the dense palace buildings immersed in an atmosphere of grief.

"Your Majesty." Li Chongju, sword at his side, approached Liu Chengyou, having already changed his form of address.

"I have not yet ascended the throne—such an address is inappropriate!" Liu Chengyou said.

Li Chongju immediately reverted: "Your Highness."

"How goes the situation?" Liu Chengyou asked.

Only then did Li Chongju reply: "The Eastern Capital is under full martial law, all gates sealed. Patrol Inspector Song is stationed at the Patrol Inspection Office, and all patrol officers and constables of the Kaifeng prefectural office have been dispatched in full to ensure no unrest breaks out."

At this most critical juncture, Liu Chengyou could not simply remain idle before the coffin. In this chaotic world, he could not passively wait out of fear of criticism and gossip—instead, he had to act actively, move decisively, and completely seize control of the situation.

After Liu Zhiyuan's passing, Liu Chengyou had issued several orders: martial law throughout the city, martial law throughout the army. Li Jian, commander of Xuanwu Gate, was made Commissioner of Palace Gates; Xiang Xun, Commander of the imperial army, was made Commissioner of the Palace City; his maternal cousin was made Commissioner of Palace Parks; and his eldest maternal uncle, Li Hongjian, led the Konghe Army to patrol and guard the imperial city. The palace gates were sealed tight—entry permitted, exit forbidden. Ministers entrusted with the late emperor's affairs, such as Yang Bin, were all confined within the palace, eliminating all destabilizing factors.

"How is the imperial army?" Liu Chengyou asked. The other measures were all necessary, but the imperial army was the most important—if the hundred-thousand-plus troops were stabilized, the situation would be settled.

"All Army Commanders have received orders to return to camp and restrain their soldiers. Commander-in-Chief Shi, Commander-in-Chief Liu, and Commissioner Guo have been continuously inspecting the various armies and camps to reassure the troops!" Li Chongju reported, then added: "Commander-in-Chief Shi has not left our sight. The Xiaodi and Wujie armies are being held steady by the Emperor's Maternal Uncle (Li Hongxin) and Commander Sun and other generals!"

"Mm..." Liu Chengyou acknowledged. Though his brow did not relax, his expression appeared increasingly calm: "What about the ministers?"

"They are at the Waiting Hall. Chancellor Yang has made no unusual moves."

"There must be some complaints!" Liu Chengyou said flatly. Taking a deep breath, he spoke in a low voice: "If we can just get through this period and the overall situation is settled, all will be well!"

Gazing eastward, a faint glimmer of light had appeared at the horizon—dawn was approaching. He went to the eastern wing of Wansui Hall to snatch the last moments for a brief rest.

"Commander Liu, why do you keep following me?" At the Guangrui Army encampment, Shi Hongzhao, having lost his patience, finally exploded, glaring coldly at Liu Xin.

As the top two commanders of the Imperial Guard Command, the two men had been ordered to reassure the troops. But ever since leaving the palace gates, Liu Xin had been like a shadow, hanging around Shi Hongzhao, inseparable, impossible to shake off.

Upon hearing this, Liu Xin poked a finger into the white headband wrapped around his head, scratched, and answered nonchalantly: "Nothing much, just felt like following you."

This attitude immediately infuriated Shi Hongzhao, who demanded: "Are you trying to spy on me?"

"So what if I am?" Liu Xin yawned, glancing at Shi Hongzhao with equal impatience: "As for why—don't you know in your own heart?"

Liu Xin had always been arrogant and overbearing. It seemed that with Liu Zhiyuan's death, the reins on him had been loosened, making him even more reckless, saying whatever he pleased directly. In terms of scheming depth, he was probably even less capable than Shi Hongzhao.

Sure enough, at these words, Shi Hongzhao's face turned dark and gloomy as he stared coldly at Liu Xin: "What do you mean by that?"

Seeing his reaction, Liu Xin had no interest in bickering with him and said directly: "Anyway, today I'm sticking with you no matter what!"

Subconsciously, Shi Hongzhao clenched his fist, producing a few cracking sounds. This only invigorated Liu Xin: "What, Commander-in-Chief Shi wants to have a go with me?"

Taking a deep breath, Shi Hongzhao turned and walked off in another direction.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to the latrine. Are you going to follow me there too?"

"I'll come along! I don't mind the stench of your shit..."

Liu Xin might not be good at other things, but playing the rogue and scoundrel, he was thoroughly adept. He stubbornly pestered Shi Hongzhao until dawn, when word came from the palace.

In the Waiting Hall, over a hundred court officials and meritorious nobles had entered the palace. With so many people, there was inevitably a murmur of voices, and some complaints about the restriction on their freedom. Yang Bin sat to one side, his expression gloomy and numb, as if still not having recovered from the shock of Liu Zhiyuan's death.

Dawn had arrived. The senior generals of the imperial army, having reassured their soldiers, also entered the palace one after another. Watching the timing, it was Yang Bin who rose and addressed the assembled civil and military officials: "Gentlemen, let us go to Wansui Hall!"

Everyone's spirits perked up—the main show was about to begin.

In Wansui Hall, the hundred officials gathered, the mournful atmosphere tinged with solemn gravity. Liu Chengyou knelt at the front, head bowed. Behind him, the sound of "sobbing" was still unavoidable.

Liu Chengyou's appearance at this moment was rather poor—haggard features, weary expression, even somewhat disheveled clothing. However, at a time like this, the more disheveled the better. Too neat would be wrong—after all, it was a performance, and details mattered.

After letting the ministers "grieve" for a while, Lady Li rose and walked slowly to Yang Bin, pulling a yellow-covered scroll from her sleeve. She fixed her eyes on him: "Minister Yang, the late emperor's testamentary edict—you shall read it."

Yang Bin's face twitched. He glanced at Liu Chengyou, who sat as steady as Mount Tai, eyes straight ahead. His eyelids twitched rapidly several times. Yang Bin took a deep breath and received the edict with both hands: "Yes!"

He then rose and stood below and to the side of the coffin. Yang Bin raised the edict high and announced in a loud voice: "The testamentary edict of the Great Traveler Emperor is here—all ministers, hear the proclamation!"

Everyone's gaze was drawn to him—except Liu Chengyou, who remained immersed in boundless grief.

"Crown Prince Chengyou, gifted with exceptional talent, virtuous and wise, beloved of the people, destined for the throne. He may succeed to the imperial throne before the coffin. Mourning periods and observances shall follow the old regulations!"

Almost word by word, Yang Bin read through the testamentary edict, then rolled it up and prostrated himself directly toward Liu Chengyou: "Your servant pays respects to Your Majesty!"

No matter how complicated his thoughts, under these circumstances, Yang Bin had no choice but to bend his knee to Liu Chengyou.

"Paying respects to Your Majesty!" Following suit, the assembled civil and military officials prostrated themselves around Liu Chengyou.

Though the voices paying homage to the new emperor were not perfectly uniform nor particularly loud, from this moment on, the Emperor of the Great Han—Liu Chengyou—was officially on the throne.