Chapter 1961: The Prince of Andong Passes Away

No matter how many hints and omens there had been before, Liu Wenyuan was still taken aback when Liu Xu spoke so directly about his own lifespan. His mind shook violently, and with a sorrowful expression he knelt and said, "Father, please do not speak such inauspicious words. You have Heaven's protection—surely you will recover as before?"

"Such words only fool the mediocre and the foolish—and they come from your mouth!" Liu Xu looked at Liu Wenyuan kneeling before the couch, seeming somewhat surprised, then said softly, "Life and death have their constants; when fate's number is reached, why force it? There are countless blessed people in this world—why would Heaven favor me alone?"

"I do not believe in fate!" Hearing Liu Xu say this, Liu Wenyuan's eyes turned red, and he choked out, "Even if life and death are determined by fate, one should exhaust every effort to fight for a thread of hope. Besides—is Father's current condition not caused by human factors?"

Clearly, Liu Wenyuan held a different view of Liu Xu's situation, one not limited to Liu Xu's body and life—an understanding tinged with indignation and anger.

Liu Xu clearly sensed it, and even at this moment understood his thoughts. But after a brief silence, Liu Xu's eyes widened as he stared hard at Liu Wenyuan, his voice even trembling slightly: "What are you trying to say!"

Perhaps because he had been suppressing it for too long, indignation surged across Liu Wenyuan's face, giving the feeling that he could not rest until he spoke. He clasped his fists heavily and said, "Forgive me for speaking bluntly, Father—if you were within the capital region rather than beyond the northeastern passes, at the heights of the court rather than in a governor's office, how could you suffer as you do today?

Half of Father's illness stems from Andong's bitter cold, and half from the prince's mansion's endless paperwork. Even as a member of the imperial clan, guarding the frontier and governing affairs is of course righteous duty—but having been enfeoffed with your own kingdom, and with over a decade of toil disregarded, the court cedes Shuaibin Prefecture to the east and the Na River to the west, guarding against you and balancing your power. Father can tolerate it, but I find it chilling..."

"Cough, cough..." When Liu Wenyuan spoke these words, Liu Xu could not help but cough violently—once started, he could not stop, until he spat out a mouthful of bloody phlegm.

Vivid red blood soaked the cotton quilt cover, a shocking sight. Liu Xu looked utterly disheveled, bloodstains on the corners of his mouth and across his chest. Seeing this, Liu Wenyuan finally snapped back to attention, crawled forward on his knees to support his father, and turned his head to bellow outward, "Physician! Call the physician!"

Physicians naturally attended Liu Xu at all times; hearing Liu Wenyuan's shout, a flurry of commotion immediately came from outside the room. Liu Xu, after struggling to calm himself, gripped Liu Wenyuan's hand tightly and gasped, "No need!"

"Father!" Seeing his father in this frail state, Liu Wenyuan's tears finally could not be held back and streamed down. Though he had a thousand words to say, they all clogged in his heart, ultimately turning into a single mournful cry.

Liu Wenyuan's feelings for Liu Xu ran deep. From childhood he had regarded him as his life's mentor and guiding light; in terms of respect, he far surpassed his regard for Emperor Liu. Especially the longer he stayed in Andong and the more he saw of Liu Xu's words and deeds, the stronger that feeling grew.

Gazing at Liu Xu, whose breath was faint, Liu Wenyuan believed it was he himself who had angered his father into this state. Filled with regret, he knocked his head hard against the ground—thump, thump, thump—and soon a bloody mark appeared on his forehead, but he did not stop, as if only this could ease the guilt he could not release from his heart.

Seeing this, Liu Xu could not help but grow angry. He abruptly turned over, coughing up a bit more blood, and scolded, "If you cannot even cherish yourself, how can you make others believe you will cherish your parents, brothers and sisters, and your subjects and people!"

Hearing this, Liu Wenyuan finally stopped, kowtowing and saying, "I beg Father to calm his anger. I have been deluded and unfilial, speaking reckless words. I ask for nothing else—only that Father takes good care of his health. Once you recover, I will accept whatever punishment you see fit, without a word of complaint!"

Lying sideways at the edge of the couch, Liu Xu silently watched Liu Wenyuan, a complex look flashing through his eyes. He seemed to want to speak but held back. After a long while, he turned over and lay down, saying languidly, "Go on, go on—I am weary..."

Liu Wenyuan raised his head, saw Liu Xu's utterly exhausted appearance, and likewise opened his mouth as if to speak, but in the end only bowed again and said, "I shall take my leave now. I beg Father to take care of himself!"

"Mm..." Liu Xu only gave a faint reply.

Liu Wenyuan rose, straightened Liu Xu's quilt for him, bowed once more, and slowly withdrew from the room. Only when he heard the sound of the door closing did Liu Xu open his eyes, silently gazing in the direction his eldest son had gone. His eyes were filled with the vicissitudes of life and weariness—and a trace of worry as well.

Liu Xu knew Liu Wenyuan harbored resentment in his heart, but he had not expected it to run so deep—deep enough that it even gave Liu Xu a pang of unease. Looking back suddenly, Liu Xu realized he had nothing more to say to Liu Wenyuan.

No matter what Liu Wenyuan did in the future, or where Andong would head under his leadership, Liu Xu had no other choice. In his current state—gravely ill and nearing the end—he could hardly replace the Crown Prince.

In matters of succession, Liu Xu had even fewer options than Emperor Liu. Whatever else could be said, Emperor Liu had several backups, whereas Liu Xu, though he had five sons, had invested the most in Liu Wenyuan—his entire life's effort had been poured into him...

The night had grown deep. Outside, cold wind blew and snow drifted; inside, it was warm as spring. Though Liu Xu lay on the couch, his heart seemed to be left outside in the cold, chilled to the bone.

Queen Bai Ying, accompanied by her maids, silently helped Liu Xu change his bedding and tend to him. Only after everything was done and the maids were dismissed did Bai Ying finally lose control, sitting at the edge of the couch and weeping softly.

Hearing the muffled sobbing, Liu Xu turned his head and saw the woman shedding tears. Though his own heart was not without desolation, he forced a smile on his face and said gently, "Don't cry!"

"My King!" Bai Ying turned her head, looking at him through tear-filled eyes, calling out in a trembling voice.

"The Grand Historian said it well: all men must die, some heavier than Mount Tai, some lighter than a goose feather. If I die on a sickbed, it may seem lonely, but thinking that it was from toiling for Andong, I can barely claim a measure of 'heaviness.'"

"My King, how can you bear it!" Queen Bai could no longer hold back and burst into loud sobs.

Liu Xu reached out with effort to grasp Queen Bai's hand, and sighed, "Of course I cannot bear it! It's only a pity that Heaven grants no more years—what can be done? I do not regret that my achievements remain unfinished or my great enterprise incomplete. My only regret is toward you—these twenty-odd years, I have done you wrong..."

Bai Ying was Liu Xu's first wife. She had married him in her maiden years and given birth to Liu Wenyuan at eighteen. Liu Xu naturally had more women than just her, but in depth of feeling and in respect, Queen Bai ranked first.

And in all those twenty-odd years, Liu Xu had never spoken such tender words to her. Clutching Liu Xu's hand tightly, Bai Ying wept, "With those words from my King, this concubine would die content!"

"You must not die!" Hearing her say this, Liu Xu immediately said, "Not only must you not die, you must take good care of yourself and keep an eye on that boy Wenyuan for me..."

"Wenyuan?" Bai Ying was momentarily puzzled, not understanding his meaning.

"I will explain this to you slowly, but right now my strength is failing and I can hardly speak!" A pale smile still hung at the corner of Liu Xu's mouth as he looked at Bai Ying with gentle eyes and said, "All these years, all I've heard are reports of government affairs and official business—rarely have I heard you women's chatter. Now that I have time, I want to hear you talk more."

On the eighth day of the twelfth month, Andong Prince Liu Xu did not even have the chance to drink his last bowl of laba porridge.

In the inner hall of the prince's mansion, in the small room, before the sickbed, the prince's household staff and Andong's senior civil and military officials all knelt in silence. Most wore expressions of grief; those whose grief did not show wore faces grave and heavy.

On the couch, Liu Xu was making the final speech of his life: "... In this life of mine, I pride myself on thirty-five years of clear-eyed wakefulness in this world, thirty-one years of striving and pressing forward. By the age of forty I achieved no small success, and my name is recorded in history—for this life, I am content!"

"My King!"

"..."

By the time Liu Xu reached this point, sobbing filled the room before the couch, tears flowing freely. Hearing this, Liu Xu raised his hand slightly and waved it, saying slowly, "I have already given instructions for all matters after my death, both internal and external. Simply follow my final wishes."

No one answered. Only the sound of weeping remained.

"Everyone else, leave. The Crown Prince stays..." Gasping for breath, Liu Xu said.

The crowd withdrew reluctantly. Liu Wenyuan, who remained, knelt with red-rimmed eyes and entreated, "I humbly await your instruction!"

"I have nothing left to teach you!" Seeing this, Liu Xu shook his head slightly, but then reached out his withered hand to touch Liu Wenyuan's head, and said with a grave expression, "I only hope you will forever remember that you are a descendant of the Liu clan and a subject of the Great Han!"

Hearing this, Liu Wenyuan met Liu Xu's gaze with sincere eyes and answered solemnly, "I—for all my life, I will never dare forget!"

Beyond this, Liu Xu had no further instructions to give. He had Liu Wenyuan help him up, and with effort sat at the edge of the couch. His eyes gradually grew hazy as he slowly looked left and right, then pointed with a trembling finger at the wall to the side, saying, "Bring it to me!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Liu Wenyuan hurried over, took down a large map of the Great Han hanging on the wall, and spread it open before Liu Xu. The map's scale was very large, but the workmanship was exquisite. Liu Xu raised his hand to stroke Andong, then slid his finger along—and when his fingertip reached the capital region, he could no longer support himself and crashed down...

In the twenty-seventh year of Kaibao (989), on the eighth day of the twelfth month, Liu Xu, Prince of Qin of the Great Han and Prince of Andong, passed away in Suihua (Harbin).