Chapter 1756: Talent Too Great to Be Controlled

"You may go. I'm tired and need to sleep." Having spoken so much, Emperor Liu was also weary, with no further interest in conversation. He waved Liu Yang off and slowly made his way back to Chongzheng Hall.

Liu Yang remained behind, bowing respectfully. But when he raised his eyes and gazed at Emperor Liu's noticeably stooped back, a trace of doubt appeared on his face. Just now, when Emperor Liu had mentioned Andong, he had clearly hesitated before speaking—what exactly had he wanted to say? Liu Yang pondered silently, but whatever it was, it was obviously related to Liu Xu.

As he returned to the hall, Emperor Liu likewise wore a melancholy expression, brows knitted together in visible vexation. He had originally wanted to ask—to carve out the Andong region as an independent territory, bestow it upon Liu Xu, and establish the State of Andong. This notion had been circling in his mind for a long time, and he had wanted to sound out Liu Yang's thoughts on it.

But the words had caught in his throat, and he had forcibly held them back, because he himself harbored doubts about the matter. Andong was indeed remote and bitterly cold, but under the foundational policy of developing the northeast, as an important component of the entire northeastern frontier defense, carving it out independently would inevitably create a rift between it and the imperial court.

Moreover, this still belonged to the continental landmass, and Emperor Liu's desire for unification ran just as deep. If he were to set such a precedent merely for the convenience of governing Andong and to lighten the court's burden, even Emperor Liu himself could not grasp where the benefits and harms would lie.

The notion of enfeoffment had always lingered in Emperor Liu's mind, but whether to carve up these border corners of the continent, he remained hesitant. As for Andong today, under Emperor Liu's delegation of authority, Liu Xu had wielded his power boldly, managing it well, and it already showed signs of becoming a state within a state.

However, the court's influence over the region remained enormous. Andong, constrained by its inherent deficiencies, was equally enormously dependent on the court. Coupled with the rotating garrison soldiers and generals stationed there, backed by Liaodong as support, the court's control remained quite strong.

Although this inevitably increased the court's burden, a basic balance had been achieved. Whether to break this balance, what impact it would have if broken, what consequences would follow—Emperor Liu likewise could not be certain.

Of course, more importantly, Emperor Liu had to consider Liu Yang's feelings. On one hand, he wanted to give Liu Xu a base of his own; on the other hand, he worried that such a move would bring further estrangement between the brothers, between the court and Andong.

Emperor Liu was naturally confident—if he wanted to do something, no one could stop him, and even Liu Yang would have to bow and obey. But he could be certain that no small number of ministers would oppose it, especially those supporters of the Crown Prince.

After all, to this day, the one who posed a threat to Liu Yang's position as Crown Prince was still Liu Xu. Not only because of his status as the Emperor's eldest son and Prince of Qin, but also because of the ability and sense of responsibility he had displayed over the years—holding fast in Andong for ten years in the capacity of a Prince, blazing trails through hardship, enduring wind and rain without regret. There was no doubt that this had brought Liu Xu tremendous prestige.

Looking through the annals of history, those of such exalted status who could accomplish this were few and far between—indeed, one could scarcely find a comparable example. Even Liu Yang had to acknowledge Liu Xu's contributions to the Great Han and to the northeast, let alone ordinary people.

But the more this was so, the more it displayed talent and ability, and the more easily it invited jealousy and apprehension. Liu Yang was generous by nature, with sufficient magnanimity to tolerate it, but those supporters of the Crown Prince could not help but worry and fret on their master's behalf. Some sought to remind the Crown Prince through remonstrance, while others, from other angles and through various means, tried to restrict and suppress Andong. Such situations were difficult to avoid.

Take this instance of Liu Xu recruiting refugees from the northwest to Andong—even though it had received Liu Yang's permission and personnel had been arranged to handle it, there was no shortage of obstruction and foot-dragging in the actual execution.

Since ancient times, those outstanding talents of the imperial house have inevitably had the label of "talent too great to be controlled" slapped upon them. Outstanding ability is, sometimes, itself a crime.

Liu Yang's generosity and magnanimity were renowned throughout the court and the realm, but when fundamental interests came into conflict, it was hard to guarantee that his mindset would not change. Otherwise, back when the case of the petition drum occurred, after detecting those traces and clues, he would not have pursued the matter so relentlessly, seeking to investigate the hidden circumstances behind it.

Back then, Emperor Liu had placed Liu Xu in Andong, nearly equivalent to banishment, yet under such crude conditions in Andong, he had still built a career for himself—this showed Liu Xu's extraordinary nature.

And from the moment Liu Xu left the capital, everything seemed to have been settled. Emperor Liu's attitude was once again laid plainly on the table—any threat to Liu Yang's position as Crown Prince, he would eliminate first.

By all rights, with Liu Xu gone to distant Andong, and the two elder princes Liu Xi and Liu Fang also sent out to hold command in their own regions, the remaining princes posed almost no threat to Liu Yang. His position was secure, the possibility of direct conflict between brothers was greatly reduced, and their relationship ought to have been maintainable in good order.

However, things were never so absolute. At least in recent years, Liu Yang had unavoidably received certain pieces of news. If it were only Liu Xu's maneuvers in Andong, his measures to cultivate his own power base—those still fell within Liu Yang's acceptable range, and he could even laugh them off.

But some rumors were hard for him to take with equanimity. There were such rumors—many people felt sorry for Liu Xu, especially those sons of nobles and gentry who had gone to Andong to seek their fortunes, as well as common merchants and traders.

They believed that the greatest flaw of His Highness the Prince of Qin lay in his birth. Had he also been born of the legitimate wife, had the late Emperor established Consort Geng as Empress in the early years, had the succession to the throne been based on virtue rather than legitimacy—then the Prince of Qin's chances would have been much greater.

Although facts were facts, with no such hypothetical premises, when Liu Yang heard these rumors, what flavor they left in his mouth, what thoughts they stirred in his heart—these were hard for outsiders to know.

At the very least, his state of mind could not remain entirely peaceful. Human nature was always complex; using the throne to test human nature—who could remain unruffled by that?

Liu Yang was not a man given to easy suspicion, but faced with such voices, he could hardly avoid harboring doubts. And the very fact that such rumors could appear in the Eastern Capital was abnormal in itself—without someone pushing from behind, it would be impossible for such sentiments to arise spontaneously from ministers and commoners alone.

For this reason, Liu Yang had even specially dispatched people to investigate, with the target pointed directly at Andong. Needless to say, if such rumors could appear in the Eastern Capital, then what must the public sentiment be like in Andong, where the Prince of Qin had long been operating? For Liu Yang, the outlook was hardly optimistic.

Similar to Liu Yang's own vexation, Liu Yang was clearly also harboring concerns in his heart, though he did not show them. Returning to the Hall of State Affairs, everything was as usual—he handled practical matters as always, discussing the affairs Emperor Liu had delegated with ministers such as Song Qi and Zhao Kuangyi, and arranging for each matter to be assigned to someone.

It was not until evening, after returning to the Eastern Palace, that Liu Yang specially ordered someone to summon his maternal uncle Fu Zhaoyuan, who currently served as Deputy Chief Commander of the Jingji Circuit.

At Hongde Hall, Fu Zhaoyuan came to pay his respects and bowed: "May I ask what instructions Your Highness has for your servant?"

Fu Zhaoyuan was the second son of Fu Yanqing. Though his generation was senior to Liu Yang's, they were contemporaries in age, having associated frequently since childhood with a deep relationship—after all, that bond of kinship was very solid.

Looking at Fu Zhaoyuan, Liu Yang did not stand on ceremony and spoke directly: "His Majesty intends to recall Commandery Duke Ma Huaiyu of Fufeng back to the Eastern Capital. Someone needs to take over in Andong to preside over the rotation of imperial army garrison duties. I have my eye on you—I wonder if you would be willing to make a trip to Andong."

Hearing this, Fu Zhaoyuan was momentarily stunned, but quickly recovered. He raised his eyes to look at Liu Yang, saw his solemn expression, and his own thoughts churned within him.

Likewise without much hesitation, he clasped his hands and replied: "Your servant is willing to go!"