Chapter 1788: A Repulsive Countenance

Winter gave way to spring; ice and snow melted, the chill gradually receded, and the Great Han once again welcomed the season of renewal. For Emperor Liu, the past twenty-second year of Kaibao had been a year of mixed joy and sorrow—the suppression of the Yulin Rebellion and the two-thousand-li expansion into Kara-Khanid territory were minor joys, but the passing of Empress Fu was a great grief.

Inside Chuigong Hall, before a floor-standing glass mirror, Emperor Liu stood with his arms spread, his entire figure reflected in the mirror, while two palace maids carefully dressed and adorned him.

He was indeed getting old—his arms could no longer stretch fully straight, holding them in the air for any length of time left them aching and tired, and his back could no longer remain as straight as it once was. He had no choice but to yield to the years and stoop.

"Time is a butcher's knife!" Emperor Liu studied his aged, even somewhat sinister and ugly reflection in the mirror, and mocked himself: "When I was young, I considered myself rather handsome. Now look at me—how repulsive I've become. No wonder even my old acquaintances have gradually drifted away from me. Could it be that this face of mine has become too loathsome to bear?"

Emperor Liu muttered to himself here, frightening the attending palace attendants half to death; the maid adjusting his robe trembled uncontrollably. Yan Tuo was considered eloquent, but even he did not know how to respond to this. Emperor Liu's current appearance was indeed hard to compliment, so naturally he could not speak the truth—yet if he were to flatter against all facts, Yan Tuo had experienced that before as well, and feared being rebuked for deceiving the sovereign.

Serving a ruler is like dwelling with a tiger—speaking the truth was unacceptable, and speaking nonsense Emperor Liu did not care to hear either. Since Empress Fu's passing, Emperor Liu had grown increasingly moody and unpredictable, frequently "having episodes," so that even Yan Tuo, who had served him for over twenty years, found him difficult to read.

Happening to think of something, Yan Tuo hurriedly changed the subject: "Your Majesty, just now Hanlin Academician-in-Waiting Huang Jucai delivered a portrait of Your Majesty. Would Your Majesty care to examine it?"

"Hm?" Emperor Liu seemed to snap back to his senses and ordered: "Bring it, let me see!"

"Yes!"

Huang Jucai was a renowned master painter of the court. Together with his father Huang Quan, he had originally been a court painter of the Meng Shu. After Chuanshu was pacified, he was escorted to the Eastern Capital along with Meng Chang, and afterward father and son both entered the palace to serve as painters for the Han court. Over the past twenty-odd years, a great number of excellent works had flowed from his brush; the courtly scenes and major events of the Great Han's Kaibao era could all be found recorded in their paintings.

A month ago, Emperor Liu had been struck by a whim and had Huang Jucai paint his portrait. Now, at last, there was a result. Soon, Yan Tuo summoned two palace eunuchs to unroll the scroll before Emperor Liu, and his portrait came into view.

In the painting, Emperor Liu wore a purple crown atop his head, resplendent robes, and a face of heroic authority and dignity, his entire person seeming to radiate a sacred light. Painting also prizes spirit and resonance; this painting before him had ample charm—ample impressionism, that was.

Perhaps his eyesight was failing; Emperor Liu gave it a cursory glance, not looking carefully enough, then leaned in for two closer looks, turned to compare with his reflection in the mirror, and furrowed his brow: "Yan Tuo, tell me—is this painted as me?"

"Yes!" Yan Tuo blurted out, then observed Emperor Liu's expression and added: "It's just that Your Majesty is a sacred being. Academician Huang's technique is certainly exquisite, but in the end it is but mortal brushwork—how could it fully capture Your Majesty's august bearing? It can only glimpse a hundredth of your divine spirit."

"Heh heh!" Emperor Liu was amused by Yan Tuo's words, waved his hand, and remarked with feeling: "I've come to realize—the older I get, the less these painters know how to paint me, and the less their portraits resemble me."

The four characters "spare the worthy's sensibilities" surfaced in Yan Tuo's mind, but he dared not speak them aloud.

Emperor Liu paid no heed to that and instructed: "I recall that Huang Jucai's greatest strength is in flowers, birds, bamboo, and rocks. Was it asking too much of him to paint a human figure? What a pity that Gu Hongzhong died a few years too early—otherwise, that wonderful brush of his would surely have produced something extraordinary."

After this sigh of regret, Emperor Liu instructed Yan Tuo: "Send word to Huang Jucai—tell him I am not satisfied with this painting; he has not painted me faithfully. However, I will give him another chance to repaint it. If he tries to fob me off with such work again, I will have him punished for the crime of deceiving the sovereign!"

"Yes!" Yan Tuo immediately acknowledged.

Inwardly he silently mourned for Huang Jucai—this was no easy task. This was not painting a portrait at all; it was plainly painting the emperor's mind. And in this period, Emperor Liu's mind was unfathomably difficult to divine—the very thought was frightening. But better the friend die than the monk; as long as the fire did not burn him, that was fine. Besides, the Huang father and son had served in the palace all these years, enjoying much favor and honor. Having partaken of that grace, they must bear the risk of thunder.

"Then how shall this painting be disposed of?" Yan Tuo asked further.

"Keep it! When the new one is done, compare the two and see which looks more like me!" Emperor Liu said flatly.

"Yes!" Yan Tuo acknowledged the order, gestured to the eunuchs, and hurriedly had it rolled up and put away.

After viewing the painting, Emperor Liu returned to the mirror and gazed at his reflection for a long while, his old eyes gradually growing misty. The self across from him had a head of grizzled hair, a face full of wrinkles, and even two conspicuous age spots; that air of decrepitude and decline radiated from within outward. Emperor Liu had never felt it so keenly—there was even a kind of heartfelt dread and chill. The Emperor Liu of today was not like before; the more he aged, the less willing he was to admit it.

"In the past, I did not much believe in tales of hair turning white overnight or weeping oneself to death—but when it happens to oneself, one has no choice but to believe!" Emperor Liu's tone carried a trace of sorrow: "The great rises and falls of life, the great griefs and joys—they are truly not good things."

"Please, Your Majesty, take care of your sacred person!" Seeing Emperor Liu's mood turning again, Yan Tuo instinctively offered consolation.

"My health is perfectly fine! I don't need you people reminding me at every turn!" Emperor Liu suddenly whipped his head around and snapped in anger.

Under that gaze, Yan Tuo was greatly alarmed, shrinking back and stammering, not daring to speak further. At this moment, a palace maid fetched the ceremonial crown and carefully helped Emperor Liu put it on, completing his attire.

The twelve strands of tassels swayed slightly before his eyes; each hanging bead seemed to reflect a world, a mood. Seeing his face obscured in the mirror, Emperor Liu suddenly said: "These tassels seem to serve the purpose of hiding one's ugliness!"

No one dared to respond to that. This morning, Emperor Liu seemed fixated on his own appearance, bringing it up repeatedly, as if it had become a sore spot.

With age came more words. After walking a few steps, Emperor Liu pointed at the crown on his head and remarked: "This crown seems heavier and heavier—just like this ever-vaster realm, which leaves me feeling overwhelmed!"

Having indulged in this bout of moaning, Emperor Liu finally returned to normal. He waved his hand and ordered: "Come, let's hold court!"

"His Majesty's procession departs!" Yan Tuo, hearing this, finally breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly sang out the announcement to lead the way.

But after no more than two steps, Emperor Liu halted again, turned to look at the floor-standing mirror, and a thought suddenly welled up in his mind. He said in a cold voice: "Smash this mirror for me—it reflects me too clearly!"

"Yes!"