Chapter 1978: The Situation Looks Grim

Yaoguang Pavilion was one of the main buildings in Liuguang Garden, and also the primary venue where Liu Hui held banquets and entertained guests on ordinary days.

Inside the pavilion, the sweet aroma of mellow wine permeated the air. Beautiful dancing girls, barely covered by their garments, cast flirtatious glances from the stage, while most of the scholars and literati present wore drunken expressions, thoroughly enjoying themselves. At the main table, one of Liu Hui's favorite concubines reclined sideways, her clothes in disarray, her eyes brimming with amorous allure.

On an ordinary day, the scene would have been one of wild revelry—another grand feast where none would leave sober. But this time, the atmosphere was clearly off. The boisterous clamor had dissolved into hushed, speculative murmurs, and quite a few of Liu Hui's "comrades" exchanged uneasy glances.

The reason was that someone had come from the palace—and not just anyone, but Yan Tuo, the senior eunuch of the inner court. Through the beaded curtain, the faintly visible figures engaged in conversation in the adjoining hall had nearly everyone present on tenterhooks.

Before long, Yan Tuo emerged first, wearing his usual reserved expression. He swept a brief glance over the scene in the pavilion, betrayed nothing, and made to leave. Liu Hui followed closely behind, waving his hand and calling out with some urgency: "Please, Senior Eunuch Yan, stay a moment!"

Hearing this, Yan Tuo hesitated for a moment, then stopped after all. After all, this was the Emperor's son—how long could a rift between father and son truly last? Perhaps once His Majesty's anger passed, all would be well again. Such things had happened before. Therefore, toward Liu Hui, Yan Tuo decided to extend a bit more respect and leeway.

By now, even a servant like Yan Tuo, who had attended the old Emperor personally for decades, could not help but act according to what he guessed Emperor Liu's intentions to be—and even, without realizing it, pass off his own conjectures as the Emperor's thoughts.

Turning back to look at the somewhat bewildered Liu Hui, Yan Tuo clasped his hands in a salute and said flatly: "Your Highness, this servant still needs to return to the palace to report and receive further orders!"

"I would not dare detain you, Senior Eunuch!" Liu Hui, heedless of the many onlookers present, hurriedly asked: "May I ask what exactly I, Liu Hui, have done to offend His Majesty? Please do not hesitate to enlighten me!"

The drunkenness was still heavy on Liu Hui's face, but the sudden blow had instinctively kept him sober. Meeting those pleading eyes, Yan Tuo sighed, leaned in close, and lowered his voice: "Your Highness, why wade into that muddy water?"

Liu Hui started, finding it hard to believe: "Could it be that memorial of remonstrance?"

"I have said all I can. Your Highness, please stay—this servant takes his leave!" Yan Tuo refused to say more, bowed, and hurried away.

At this, Liu Hui's face paled two shades—clearly, that was it. Yet he could not understand: a single memorial of remonstrance, how could it come to this? Was the Emperor not allowing anyone to speak their mind? Jiang Mu could do it, but he—the esteemed Duke of Wu, a chancellor of the Hall of State Affairs—was not qualified? Was that not absurd?

"How could this be? How could this be?" Liu Hui muttered to himself.

In fact, that Jiang Mu was also one of Liu Hui's honored guests—and a high-quality resource at that, for his official rank was not low. He was a censor with real power in the Censorate. When Li Dan had been transferred to the Censorate back then, Jiang Mu had played a part in the process.

From this, one could see just how many tangled threads lay behind Liu Hui's memorial advocating the abolition of the Palace City Office. Just before Yan Tuo's arrival, Liu Hui had been discussing the matter with his guests. The thick-skinned ones had already begun to boast, praising Liu Hui's memorial as a magnificent piece of writing, a loyal remonstrance—one who dared to plan for the realm and would surely be admired by all under heaven, and so on and so forth.

Now, Emperor Liu had slapped down hard, leaving Liu Hui dazed and reeling, at a complete loss. His "clever" mind was now struggling to keep up, unable to figure it out. But Liu Hui also realized the gravity of the situation—just from the attitude of that old eunuch Yan Tuo, one could tell he was completely unwilling to get too close, not even accepting gifts.

"Memorial? Muddy water? Where did things go wrong?" Liu Hui's head ached from thinking, and he could not help but raise his hand and pound his skull hard.

"Your Highness! Don't!" His action startled the many people present, and cries of alarm and restraint erupted.

Liu Hui could barely stand steady now. He was helped to a seat, gasping for breath, his handsome face looking utterly terrible at this moment. Even the least perceptive person could tell that something major had happened, and one by one, they sent Liu Hui concerned "inquiries."

But there was one "eccentric" who, reeking of alcohol, sat down beside Liu Hui and asked without a care for his own life: "Your Highness, the singing and dancing have stopped for quite a while now. Everyone is waiting—should we continue?"

These words thoroughly provoked Liu Hui, like opening a valve of restraint. He grabbed a wine vessel from beside him and hurled it viciously at the man's head. "Dong!"—a dull yet exceptionally clear sound, like a heavy hammer striking the heart.

Everyone was stunned. How could the Duke of Wu—so graceful, so cultivated, a man whose presence felt like a spring breeze—lose his composure so completely and commit an act of "violence" in public? It was only upon hearing the miserable shrieks and seeing that Liu Hui showed no sign of stopping that they snapped back to their senses. Those nearby pulled and dissuaded, and only then was Liu Hui prevented from beating the man to death on the spot.

After a flurry of frantic activity, Liu Hui managed to calm himself somewhat. Through drunken eyes, he looked at the crowd of "worthy talents and famed scholars" gathered around him, and waved his hand weakly: "All of you, withdraw!"

"Your Highness—"

"Get out!"

Seeing Liu Hui perpetually on the verge of eruption, no one dared say another word and filed out one by one. But as they looked at Liu Hui's face, dark and grim as water, and then at the guest who was bleeding profusely and had already passed out cold, most felt a pang of dread in their hearts. At the same time, their curiosity about Yan Tuo's vague purpose for coming grew even stronger.

Each with their own thoughts, the crowd dispersed. Even the unfortunate fellow who had been knocked unconscious was carried off by two servants for treatment—judging by his injuries, whether he could be saved was anyone's guess. Once the crowd had gone, the pavilion immediately fell quiet and desolate. Yet amid the messy banquet tables, one person remained, propping himself against the table, drinking alone.

This was an old man of about fifty or sixty, showing heavy signs of age—dark circles under his eyes, a puffy face, and a prominent protruding belly. He wore a dazed, drunken expression, utterly lost in his cups. It would be hard for outsiders to imagine that this greasy, dispirited figure was none other than Li Yu, the "Hidden Marquis," who had written countless beautiful and moving poems and lyrics.

In the blink of an eye, nearly thirty years had passed since he had surrendered and entered the court. Through the vicissitudes of those years, Li Yu's title had changed several times, from Duke of Peng to his current Marquis of Peace—a third-rank title. A title like "Ci Emperor" (Lyric Emperor) was not appropriate to use in the present age, so people were more accustomed to calling Li Yu "Ci Marquis" or "Hidden Marquis," the latter being more widespread, because Li Yu had once styled himself Master Zhongyin, hence the name.

Liu Hui naturally noticed Li Yu, who had stayed behind. Looking at his somewhat comical drunken state, he could not help but say coldly: "Why does the Hidden Marquis linger?"

Liu Hui had often felt envy and jealousy toward Li Yu's literary talent, but on the whole, he deeply admired him. There was a sense of mutual appreciation between the two—one could call them friends across generations. Although Li Yu was not a core figure in Liu Hui's circle, whenever there was a banquet, Liu Hui would always send someone to invite him, and Li Yu rarely refused.

Upon hearing the question, Li Yu tapped his wine cup with his finger and said to Liu Hui: "Such fine wine—would it not be a pity not to drink it all?"

Liu Hui was briefly taken aback, then waved his hand and smiled: "If the Hidden Marquis likes it, you may take a few jars back to your residence!"

"Many thanks, Your Highness!" Li Yu did not decline, clasping his hands in salute.

Then he slowly rose, took two unopened jars of Guanglu wine from the hands of two eunuchs, hugged one under each arm, and staggered out. However, just as he was about to step through the door, Li Yu paused, turned back, and said to Liu Hui: "Forgive me for speaking out of turn—with all these guests and honored friends filling the hall, how many can truly share your heart?"

Having said this, without waiting for Liu Hui's reaction, he went on his way. After Li Yu had entered the court, with the erosion of time, the grief and resentment of his fallen kingdom had largely dissipated—this was evident from his poetry of the past decade. The heart-wrenching, melancholy sentiments of old were no longer prominent. Instead, he had gone with the flow and written quite a few pieces extolling the prosperous age.

There was no helping it. Nowadays, of those who still paid attention to his identity as the former sovereign of Jiangnan, most were only casting strange and suspicious glances. It must be said that as a fairly renowned surrendered sovereign, Li Yu's ability to live peacefully in the capital of the Great Han for all these years owed much to Liu Hui's protection. For this, Li Yu remained grateful to Liu Hui.

Liu Hui was lost in thought over Li Yu's reminder, but that was all it amounted to. All his attention at this moment was fixed on Emperor Liu's decree of demotion. Even with this brief moment of reflection, he still could not figure out what exactly had gone wrong. What was the problem with his memorial? Had not Wang Ji'en and the Palace City Office been harming the court for years—were they not already condemned by all?

After a spell of bewilderment and a few moments of despair, Liu Hui finally snapped back to his senses, freeing himself from his state of helplessness. Struggling to his feet, he somewhat anxiously ordered his servants to wash and dress him and prepare his carriage. He needed to enter the palace to beg forgiveness—and, most importantly, to ask for clarification. Even if he was to die, he wanted to die knowing why.

Getting an audience with Emperor Liu was still possible, after all—Emperor Liu had not placed Liu Hui under house arrest. Moreover, when he appeared before the throne, Emperor Liu discerned his purpose before he even spoke. Barely giving him any time to explain or state his case, Emperor Liu dismissed him with a single sentence: "If you cannot even realize where the problem lies, then I have nothing more to say to you. Go back and await the decree!"

As the chief administrator of Luoyang, Governor Lü was a very diligent official, but recently he had been especially industrious, eating and sleeping at the government office, as if he did not want to bring the court's disputes home with him.

At nightfall, Lü Mengzheng had just finished approving another matter of prefectural administration and was about to enjoy his already-cold dinner when a servant reported that Zhang Xun, the Minister of Justice, had come to call. Lü Mengzheng immediately grew suspicious. The two were naturally connected in the matter of "toppling Wang," but for Zhang Xun to visit in person at such a critical and sensitive moment was somewhat reckless—it would easily give others ammunition for gossip.

But no matter how many doubts churned in his heart, the courtesies of receiving a guest could not be omitted. He ordered the servant to show the visitor in, and Lü Mengzheng even went personally to the door to wait, welcoming Zhang Xun inside, offering tea, and exchanging pleasantries.

"Brother, what brings you here at night?" Lü Mengzheng asked calmly, but the meaning in his eyes was unmistakable.

Zhang Xun, however, wore a grave expression and said directly: "I can no longer afford to worry about such things!"

"Why?" Seeing his expression, Lü Mengzheng did not dare take it lightly and immediately asked.

"Have you heard the news from the palace?"

"I have spent the entire day handling routine affairs and have not paid attention to inner-court news. What change has occurred?" Lü Mengzheng hesitated slightly, then shook his head.

"You are certainly composed!" Zhang Xun remarked with a jab, then said: "His Majesty has issued a decree, stripping the Duke of Wu of his chancellorship!"

"Is that so? For what reason?"

Zhang Xun said solemnly: "Word has it that the Duke of Wu also submitted a memorial to His Majesty, suggesting that His Majesty abolish the Palace City Office—"

Hearing this, Lü Mengzheng's brows immediately knitted together, and he muttered: "This does not bode well!"

"How do you assess that man Jiang Mu?" Zhang Xun added in a low, measured tone.

At the mention of this, a shadow of gloom appeared between Lü Mengzheng's brows, and a hint of anger flickered in his eyes. He said bluntly: "A foolish, ignorant man who fishes for fame and reputation!"

In truth, Lü Mengzheng and the others certainly also hoped that Emperor Liu would abolish the Palace City Office, that secret-police institution. But how to achieve that goal required careful consideration of methods and means, adapting to the changing circumstances.

Jiang Mu's memorial that day had thoroughly disrupted the rhythm of Lü and Zhang's plans. With Wang Ji'en not yet arrested and charged, recklessly expanding the scope of attack to the entire Palace City Office—what kind of madness would drive someone to do such a thing?

This would easily introduce too many uncertain factors into the matter. The Jiang Mu affair was still brewing when the Duke of Wu jumped out and delivered a big "surprise." And the old Emperor's fierce reaction this time could not help but cause deep concern.

If Wang Ji'en was not toppled, the Palace City Office not even scratched, and instead they got themselves caught up in this inexplicable turn of events—that would be a loss outweighing any gain. Just as Wang Ji'en knew that the key to the problem lay with Emperor Liu, Lü and Zhang were equally clear that to take down Wang Ji'en, they needed to win the old Emperor's approval.

Previously, things had been developing smoothly, with the goal within reach. But now, no one could say for certain anymore!

"Jiang Mu is dead!" While Lü Mengzheng was pondering the impact this turn of events might have, Zhang Xun quietly let slip this piece of news.

The "shocking revelations" Zhang Xun brought this time came one after another, and Lü Mengzheng could hardly conceal his astonishment: "What happened?"

"The man died right in the main hall of my Ministry of Justice!" A rare ripple finally appeared in Zhang Xun's aged eyes—a look of dread—as he described in a low voice: "Just half an hour ago, four guards escorted Jiang Mu to the Ministry of Justice and, in full view of the ministry officials and clerks, beat him to death on the spot!"

"This—on what charge?!" Lü Mengzheng could not help but rise to his feet.

Zhang Xun said with a hint of mockery: "When the sovereign wills a minister's death, the minister must die. What need is there for a charge? What matters is that His Majesty deliberately arranged for the man to be brought to the main hall of my Ministry of Justice for execution. You should understand what that means!"

Hearing this, Lü Mengzheng strove to calm himself. After a moment's thought, he raised his head and took a deep look at Zhang Xun, who was feigning composure, and said to himself: from the moment Zhang Xun came to the Kaifeng Prefecture, at least in this storm, the two of them were thoroughly bound together.

"Brother, what counsel have you come to offer on this visit?" Suppressing the faint unease in his heart, Lü Mengzheng asked gravely.

Seeing his reaction, Zhang Xun stared straight at Lü Mengzheng and asked solemnly: "Things have come to this pass, and the road ahead is uncertain. I must ask—has Shenggong's resolve to 'topple Wang' wavered at all?"

Meeting Zhang Xun's gaze, Lü Mengzheng thought only briefly before declaring with a stern countenance: "To rid the state of a traitor, my resolve shall never waver!"

Having obtained Lü Mengzheng's stance, Zhang Xun did not linger long. After briefly discussing the next course of action, he took his leave in haste.

That night, the Western Capital was destined to know no peace. Liu Hui dismissed from the chancellorship, Jiang Mu slain—two men, one affair, all signifying that the old emperor had made his move. And judging by the old emperor's attitude in handling the matter, the prospects for "toppling Wang" seemed far from bright.

The next day, the Minister of Justice, together with Zhang Xun and more than twenty court officials, submitted another memorial requesting that the Emperor punish Wang Ji'en for his crimes—though they prudently refrained from mentioning the Palace City Office.

Unlike before, they had now formed a united front, submitting a joint memorial, appearing as if launching a general assault, vowing not to rest until their goal was achieved.

Likewise, Emperor Liu's response was even more direct: Zhang, Lü, and the more than twenty who had signed the joint memorial were all thrown into prison. The old emperor's patience seemed to have been worn completely thin. He had begun to prepare to solve the problem with simple, crude means, baring his fangs and sharp claws, ready to devour.

And as Zhang, Lü, and the other ministers were imprisoned, the Luoyang court fell into utter silence—everyone was stunned. The old emperor's excessive measures were truly hard to commend. Was a household slave and hunting dog worth such protection?

With the emperor behaving thus, how could they, worthy and loyal ministers, still offer upright counsel? With the path of remonstrance blocked, the atmosphere was bound to deteriorate, and the state was bound to suffer much turmoil! The officials sighed long and hard, while also keeping a close watch on how events would unfold next. At the same time, looking at it from another angle, even if they could not bring down Wang Ji'en and the Palace City Office this time, they had still dealt a heavy blow to their arrogant arrogance.

On the other hand, if Zhang, Lü, and the other ministers were to be punished, would that not create more than twenty vacancies—including such lofty and weighty offices as Governor of Luoyang and Minister of Justice? In the current Great Han court, such an opportunity was truly too rare to come by.