Chapter 1811: The Farewell Feast

After entering the sixth month, the weather truly began to turn hot, and it plunged straight into scorching summer. The occasional breeze could not blow away the sultry heat in the air. At the docks and between the warehouses, there were plenty of bare-chested men; the tea houses and ice-drink stalls in the city were thronged with customers without end; guard dogs by the roadside panted with tongues hanging out. The entire city of Luoyang was enveloped in a fiery atmosphere, yet within the imperial city, in the halls of state, there remained only killing solemnity and oppression.

The gates of the Zichen Hall stood wide open. A batch of officials, split into two columns, filed in one after another. There were quite a few of them—at least over a hundred. Everyone wore a grave expression and moved with cautious, measured steps. Under the Great Han's current political climate, smiles seemed to have vanished from the faces of the court officials.

Inside the Zichen Hall, ice chambers provided cooling, but for the officials who had just walked in from the blazing sun, it seemed almost too cold. They lined up one by one according to rank, standing properly and silently, not daring to make any move. Quite a few faces showed obvious signs of unease.

Among these officials, there were no imperial clansmen or honored nobles, nor any high-ranking ministers or important courtiers. They were all mid- and low-ranking officials, selected from the three offices of the Imperial City, the Palace Guard, and the Judicial Offices. Many of them had never even seen Emperor Liu; even those who had, most had never spoken with him.

Now, however, they had been summoned to the Zichen Hall to be received personally by Emperor Liu. Though they did not know the reason, most were both expectant and nervous—and, inevitably, there was a trace of fear.

Kou Zhun, one of the censors of the Guannei Circuit, was among them. He stood with head bowed and hands folded, in a posture of utmost respect. His young face bore few expressions, but from his eyes, one could discern a hint of gravity.

Over the past several months, under the political tide of anti-corruption and anti-graft campaigns at the center, everyone had been buffeted by the impact. Kou Zhun could be said to have personally experienced the peril of it all. After all, within the Censorate alone, he had witnessed with his own eyes so many senior colleagues and fellow officials being seized and prosecuted—some stripped of office, some exiled, some beheaded. For Kou Zhun, who had just entered officialdom, this was indeed a rare insight and experience. In ordinary times, where would one find such "opportunity"?

Of course, Kou Zhun also bore some pressure. Over the past few months, he had constantly faced strange looks from his colleagues at court. The news had already spread: it was because this newly minted top-ranked scholar had dared to speak up and spout off before Emperor Liu, provoking His Majesty's wrath and setting off this political storm that had alarmed bureaucrats across the realm. Even the chancellors in the Hall of State Affairs and the heads of the various ministries could not help but regard Kou Zhun with a different eye.

However, it is under heavy pressure that one's true character shows. Though Kou Zhun had his share of fear, he ultimately held firm. He had long since formed his own set of values: for the state, for the public good, for the sovereign, for the people—there was nothing that could not be said!

Yet, after that day's audience, the political storm Emperor Liu had stirred up—its scale, its breadth of impact, the severity of the situation—still exceeded Kou Zhun's expectations. His original intention had merely been to remind Emperor Liu to strengthen the management of officialdom and to suppress the power of local magnates. He had never imagined that Emperor Liu's actions would be so fierce, his methods so ruthless—a complete posture of overturning the table and smashing the rice bowl.

Of course, Kou Zhun did not dare think too highly of himself. Had Emperor Liu not already harbored such intentions, how could he have made such a momentous decision in such a short time and swiftly pushed it into execution? In the end, Kou Zhun had merely, by chance and circumstance, become an insignificant trigger. The subsequent development of events had no real deep connection to Kou Zhun at all.

Silently staying in the ranks, he speculated in his heart about the reason Emperor Liu had summoned these lower-ranking officials. Whatever it was, judging by the setup, it was absolutely out of the ordinary.

Just as he was lost in thought, he suddenly heard a loud call: "His Majesty has arrived!"

Almost by instinct, everyone in the hall subconsciously bent at the waist, their postures and expressions as if replicated, all perfectly uniform. Under the sidelong glances of the assembled ministers, Emperor Liu slowly stepped across the threshold of the hall. His pace was slow, each step planted firmly. Three people accompanied him: Yan Tuo, Wang Ji'en, and Wang Xuanzhen. Perhaps it was an illusion, but Emperor Liu seemed to have aged somewhat more. The gray in his hair had not increased, but the air of decline about him had deepened.

Slowly he ascended the imperial dais, turned, and took his seat. The assembled ministers bowed in unison. Emperor Liu swept his gaze across them. His failing eyes were somewhat clouded. He looked for a good while before speaking in a deep voice: "Rise!"

"Thank you, Your Majesty!"

Emperor Liu's arrival made the atmosphere in the Zichen Hall even more tense. The crowd of minor officials and petty clerks trembled with fear, utterly constrained. After a brief pause to gather himself, Emperor Liu gave an order: "Serve the wine!"

Yan Tuo acknowledged with a sound, then waved his hand outward. Soon, two rows of palace maids entered bearing trays, each tray holding several cups filled to the brim with wine. Though the assembled officials were puzzled, their hands moved nimbly—one cup each, taken into hand.

Emperor Liu rose, also taking a cup, and stood at the edge of the vermilion dais. His left hand rested on the carved railing as he looked down upon the ministers and said: "Consider this wine my farewell toast to you all!"

Though Emperor Liu was aged, at this moment his voice was full and powerful, extremely imposing. The moment his words fell, a crisp shattering sound rang out in the hall, drawing everyone's gaze. Within the ranks, a figure collapsed awkwardly to the ground, kowtowing without cease, stammering in terror: "Your Majesty, forgive me! Your Majesty, forgive me!"

It was this man—overcome by nervousness, his hand had trembled and failed to hold the cup, knocking it over, spilling wine all over the floor. Seeing this, Emperor Liu narrowed his eyes slightly, sizing up the man, then slowly walked down. Each step made a sound, and every sound seemed to step on the hearts of the assembled ministers.

Only when Emperor Liu reached him did the man stop kowtowing, and said fearfully: "Your servant has lost composure. Your servant's crime is great. Your Majesty, spare my life!"

Emperor Liu lowered his head and studied the man for a while. A minor sixth-rank official, from some office unknown, around thirty-something years of age. But the loss of composure he displayed truly lacked the bearing a Great Han official ought to have.

Glancing at the overturned wine cup, Emperor Liu said flatly: "You don't suppose these are poisoned wine, do you?"

"No, no!" The man shuddered, hastily explaining: "Your Majesty's divine might fills me with awe. In my daze, I lost composure and spilled the cup."

But his words trailed off. His face turned exceptionally pale, and the trembling of his body grew more pronounced. Those standing near him all noticed his abnormality, because the pungent smell of urine was rather unmistakable.

He had wet himself.

However, no one showed contempt or disgust—nor even much pity or sympathy. They merely watched carefully for Emperor Liu's expression and reaction. At this man's deplorable display, Emperor Liu was clearly somewhat taken aback. He even hesitated for a moment before pointing at the man and asking Wang Ji'en: "Who is this? What office and rank does he hold?"

Wang Ji'en's face was extremely stern. He shot the man a hateful glare and reported: "Reporting to His Majesty, this is Zhu Bo, Assistant Director of the Court of Judicial Review."

"These are the elite officers and strong soldiers you selected for me? With such a performance, can he be entrusted with heavy responsibility, bear heavy duty?" Emperor Liu asked.

Facing Emperor Liu's somewhat harsh rebuke, before Wang Ji'en could answer, the kneeling Zhu Bo had already collapsed to the ground. His face turned from white to red, and he could not catch his breath, as if about to suffocate.

Wang Ji'en, suppressing the disgust in his heart, steeled himself and explained to Emperor Liu: "Your Majesty, I checked the official records and saw that this man's résumé was solid, skilled in criminal justice, and so I selected him for this assignment. I simply did not expect him to be so deplorable. Perhaps, having been recently promoted and facing Your Majesty for the first time, he lost his composure and committed a breach of decorum in the hall. It is my failure to judge people correctly. I beg Your Majesty to punish me!"

Hearing this, the furrow in Emperor Liu's brow relaxed somewhat. He looked down at Zhu Bo once more and muttered: "Am I a starving tiger that eats people?"

No one answered the question, but the expressions of many said it all. In the end, Emperor Liu did not make an example of this decorum-breaking assistant director. Instead, he instructed Yan Tuo: "Take this Assistant Director Zhu down to change into a new robe!"

"Your Majesty, this man is audacious and absurd, having breached decorum before the throne. How should he be dealt with?" Yan Tuo asked in a low voice.

Emperor Liu shook his head: "The breach of decorum is real, but audacity is not necessarily so. I have no mind to quibble with him over it!"

After this small interlude, the atmosphere in the hall eased somewhat. It seemed that Emperor Liu's killing intent today was not strong; otherwise, for such a display of wetting himself before the throne, even killing him would have drawn no sympathy.

Soon, Emperor Liu continued with the main business. Addressing the hundred-plus officials below the dais, he said: "You are all capable officials carefully selected from the Imperial City, the Palace Guard, and the three judicial offices—seasoned experts well-versed in criminal law. I have gathered you here today because I have a heavy responsibility to entrust to you.

From today onward, you will serve as envoys of the court, traveling to the various circuits, prefectures, and commanderies across the realm to investigate official governance and examine the people's livelihood on my behalf. You have only one task: to drag out those corrupt officials who deceive the sovereign, and those local tyrants and evil gentry who harm the people, and bring them all to justice one by one.

The Great Han has too many parasites. If we do not clean them out, the rivers and mountains will not be stable, and the common folk will not find peace! Your responsibility is heavier than Mount Tai. For the state, for the people—this is a righteous undertaking, and you must not decline it!

Not long ago, for the sake of clarifying the court's official governance and punishing lawless behavior, I lost a princess. But I have not the slightest regret! Through your actions, I will tell the world: for the long-term stability of the state, for the peaceful livelihood of the people, any imperial relative or noble, any honored minister or high official—if they break the law, there will be no tolerance whatsoever!

I share an undying enmity with those parasites that suck the blood and marrow from the body of the Great Han!"

After a farewell feast unlike any other, an even larger movement to rectify official governance was just beginning. Compared to it, the events that had taken place in the Western Capital over the past few months could only be considered small-scale skirmishes.