Chapter 1990: Setback

When Liu Wenyuan was granted another audience with the old emperor, it was in his formal capacity as the Prince of Andong. This was hardly a cause for celebration, for it had been his by right all along.

It was not merely regret and loss, but also a sense of guilt—for he had lost his father's title... and with it came a profound feeling of powerlessness. He had only just begun to exert himself, before his efforts could even take shape, the outcome had already been decided.

Liu Wenyuan had always been a "success story"—this seemed destined from the moment of his birth: eldest grandson of the emperor, legitimate son of the Prince of Qin, and the crown of the Prince of Andong had been thrust upon his head unbidden. From childhood to adulthood, everything had gone smoothly, and he had rarely encountered difficulties or setbacks.

Likewise, just like his father, he had been a failure from birth. For the same reason—his growth had a ceiling, one even lower than his father's. Barring some unforeseen turn of events, he would never have the chance to behold the scenery at the very pinnacle of the mortal world.

And yet, even at this very moment, Liu Wenyuan only had a vague inkling of this—he had not truly grasped it.

This trip to the capital had been a genuine lesson for Liu Wenyuan. Petty cleverness could never amount to greatness. The scheming mind hidden beneath Emperor Liu's kindly, benevolent visage was not something he could presume to fathom or exploit.

Having recently assumed his position, he had gotten his first taste of the weight of princely authority. Though his seniority and prestige were far from reaching the level where his word carried absolute weight in Andong as Liu Xu's did, a prince was still a prince. In Andong, Liu Wenyuan had gained a new understanding of the phrase "standing tall between heaven and earth"—and it was intoxicating.

Like Liu Xu, and even earlier than him, Liu Wenyuan harbored the same question, or rather aspiration: if governing Andong felt like this, what would it be like to rule over all the myriad realms of the Great Han?

This question, at present, could likely only be answered by the old emperor. But no matter how confident Liu Wenyuan was, he dared not pose such a question directly.

He had only just acquired the addiction of kingship, yet this trip to the Western Capital, before it had even concluded, had already brought him frustration. Liu Wenyuan had believed himself not to be limited by the narrow confines of the Andong state, but when he stepped into the power center of the Great Han Empire on behalf of Andong, when that faint sense of exclusion assailed him, he realized that this imperial capital of the Great Han was truly not a place where he, in his current state, could thrive like a fish in water—far from it, he was nowhere near able to navigate it with ease.

Perhaps owing to this added wariness, at his next audience with the emperor, Liu Wenyuan dared not let his arrogance show. He appeared restrained and cautious—at least on the surface.

Compared to his initial arrival in the capital, this audience was more formal in tone. It was no longer grandfather and grandson, but emperor and subject. Liu Wenyuan formally expressed his gratitude to Emperor Liu in his capacity as the Prince of Andong, while also presenting his governing philosophy and the policies he intended to implement in Andong.

Liu Wenyuan had maintained a conservative posture, trying his best not to reveal his flamboyant style. However, more than twenty years of conduct could not be corrected in a mere few days.

Thus, even though Liu Wenyuan focused his report on consolidating and continuing Liu Xu's existing policies, his grand visions still inevitably leaked through in his expression.

Indeed—grand visions, so grand they exceeded what Andong could bear. An ideal that would require continued support from the court. Or rather, an ambition!

"Young people are young people, full of drive!" Liu Wenyuan's deference seemed to belong to a different person entirely. Emperor Liu studied him and said blandly: "But to develop Andong to a level on par with the Liaodong Circuit—that is no small difficulty!"

Setting aside everything else, Liu Wenyuan had explicitly proposed a long-term goal: to lead the people of Andong in catching up with and surpassing Liaodong's development. To this goal of Liu Wenyuan's, Emperor Liu had only a four-character assessment: young and hot-blooded.

At the same time, he also felt Liu Wenyuan was being somewhat fanciful. Liaodong and Andong, though close neighbors, had enormous gaps between them when comparing conditions across all aspects.

To name just one point: after Emperor Liu had made the strategic national policy of developing the Northeast, the court's policies had tilted considerably toward the Northeast. Over the past two decades, vast amounts of political, economic, and military resources had been poured into the vast northeastern region. If three-tenths of that went to Andong, then seven-tenths went to Liaodong.

And this was only the official side. Among the common people, whether merchants or civilians, at least eight out of ten of those seeking to venture into the Northeast were headed for Liaodong. After all, whether in natural conditions or developmental maturity, Liaodong far surpassed Andong. How long had it truly been since Andong had undergone major development? Even in terms of agricultural, pastoral, fishing, and hunting resources, Liaodong was equally abundant.

In those past years, a wave of "braving the pass to the Northeast" had formed in the Two Rivers and Yanbei regions—driven by Andong's recruitment, Liaodong's allure, and the court's support. The central and local authorities joined forces to build a "New Northeast" together. As for what was set forth in the strategic decisions, the Great Han under Emperor Liu's rule had indeed worked hard to produce some results.

And of those who chose to "brave the pass to the Northeast," most stopped at Liaodong. After all, the further north one went, the higher the latitude, the harsher the climate, the more complex the ethnic composition, and the heavier the pressure along the borders.

Many at court only saw that Andong, during the nearly two decades of Liu Xu's governance, had been continuously sucking the blood of the court and draining the resources of the interior's prefectures and circuits. But the strategic support Liaodong received from the court was clearly even greater.

But there was nothing to be done about it—who could blame them, when Andong was governed by Liu Xu, the Great Han's Prince of Qin, the eldest son of Emperor Liu? It was destined that certain occasions would be met with double standards, and destined that some people would selectively turn a blind eye, setting aside the facts when it came to certain issues.

Against this backdrop, under these real conditions, a young man suddenly appeared before Emperor Liu, sat down to discuss statecraft with him, and confidently declared that he would surpass Liaodong.

This was no longer confidence or even arrogance. Calling him young and hot-blooded was already an extremely euphemistic way of putting it.

Liu Wenyuan naturally detected the doubt in the old emperor's words, but he was not flustered in the least. He merely replied calmly: "Your subject knows full well that this goal is enormous and exceedingly difficult to achieve. But your subject has already resolved to do his utmost, to summon all his spirit, and to follow his late father's will in developing Andong."

Liu Wenyuan could not resist invoking Liu Xu to "deal with" the old emperor, but this tactic no longer seemed to work well. The old emperor said blandly: "Declaring this resolve to me will do you little good!"

Liu Wenyuan looked somewhat embarrassed, but meeting the old emperor's gaze, after a moment's hesitation, he still clasped his hands and said: "Your subject understands that the strength of Andong alone is far from sufficient. Therefore, your subject humbly requests that the court see fit to provide a portion of support."

This was perhaps the true purpose of Liu Wenyuan's visit to the capital. As a vassal state, asking the court for substantial benefits was almost a matter of course. Though Liu Wenyuan had only just settled into his proper identity, this instinct seemed already fully developed.

Hearing this, a slight smile tugged at the corner of Emperor Liu's mouth as he said: "By rights, you have newly inherited your position, and you are my eldest grandson. Whether from the perspective of the court or of an elder, I ought to make some gesture."

"But where Andong's policies are concerned, long before the enfeoffment, I had already settled the parameters with your father. The agreement made then, the court will honor. Everything shall follow established precedent, and Andong should know to be content!"

"Your Majesty—"

This response from Emperor Liu was clearly not what Liu Wenyuan had anticipated. Given how generous the old emperor had been toward Andong, how could he possibly be this tight-fisted?

Yet the moment he opened his mouth, he caught the old emperor's cold, stern gaze—as if it were saying: You dare to bargain with me?

Liu Wenyuan's heart sank slightly. He fell silent, pondered for a moment, then clasped his hands and bowed: "The greatest constraint on Andong's development remains its population."

Perhaps fearing that Emperor Liu would refuse outright, Liu Wenyuan spoke with a touch of urgency, rapidly laying out his thoughts: "Migration from the Central Plains' prefectures and circuits has already become difficult. Your subject intends to recruit men and women from countries such as Goryeo and Japan to work in Andong, to supplement the shortfall in labor. I hope—"

But the old emperor's reaction once again exceeded his expectations—his gaze even carried intense pressure: "Absolutely not!"

Liu Wenyuan left the palace filled with disappointment. When his carriage crossed the Tianjin Bridge spanning the Luo River, he called for the driver to halt. Standing on the carriage shaft, he turned to gaze back at the towering palace complex. The pallor of defeat on his young face had already faded considerably.

There was still unwillingness in his eyes, but his gaze had grown even more resolute.

Meanwhile, in Chuigong Hall, after the audience with Liu Wenyuan had concluded, Emperor Liu had Zhang Bin compile and present the intelligence gathered through the secret channels concerning the Andong state.

Holding those achievements that Liu Xu had spent half his life building, and weighing them against Liu Wenyuan's performance, the old emperor sank into deep contemplation.