Chapter 2045: The Final Journey 13

In the southern circuit of Jinghu, if one wished to behold the flourishing spectacle of the Kaibao era, Changsha Prefecture could satisfy every need. And the old Emperor, presumably exhausted by the days upon days of inspections and investigations, weary in both body and mind, had grown somewhat dazed by the time he reached Changsha Prefecture—so much so that he had even forgotten the original purpose of his southern tour. Continuing onward felt more like fulfilling an obsession formed in his mind, seeking clarity of thought and ease of heart.

Thus, while in the northern circuit of Jinghu, the old Emperor traveled by both boat and carriage, inspecting the three best-developed cities of the north—Jiangling, Ezhou, and Yuezhou—and conducting some political activities as well. By the time he reached Hunan, the old Emperor essentially remained in Changsha.

Moreover, apart from showing special interest and attention to Changsha's educational administration and the Xiang River School of Learning, he made no other major moves—unless one counted the replacement of Administration Commissioner Guo Xin.

The new Administration Commissioner for the Hunan circuit had also been decided: Minister of Works Guo Zhi would be transferred to the post. Guo Zhi was among the outstanding ministers of the Kaibao era—the top scholar of the second regular examination of the Kaibao period. Counting from his entry into officialdom through the palace examination, his twenty-six years of official life could be called richly experienced.

He had served as a censor, held a post in the Hanlin Academy, compiled books in the history bureau, presented matters in the Hall of State Affairs, and had known both meteoric rises and dismissals for misconduct. His résumé covered all three levels of local government—county, prefecture, and circuit—yet he had never formally served as the chief administrator of a circuit. This time, the old Emperor had made up for that omission…

Ordinarily, the transfer of a key post or a lucrative position could trigger a chain of personnel changes, let alone this matter involving Hunan, the Ministry of Works, and the Pacification Commission—two ministries and one circuit—all starting from their top officials.

It was easy to imagine that the coming period would see another round of jostling in personnel and administrative affairs from the central government down to the localities—the commotion might well be no less than what had followed the killings in Hubei.

For the old Emperor, Changsha should have been a place worth remembering, after all, he had reaped some pleasant surprises there, and the autumn and winter scenery had cleared his mind and brightened his eyes.

But apart from Changsha Prefecture itself, he had shown no greater concern for the entire southern circuit of Jinghu. He lacked the energy for it, and on a conscious level, he also felt a measure of "timidity"—afraid of encountering more discordant things that might shake his confidence in the flourishing Kaibao era.

Having reached his current station, the old Emperor was, on one hand, desperately struggling to pursue a "good beginning and good end," while on the other hand, his actual conduct showed a state of decline. His thoughts were changeable, and so were his actions.

And so, after staying in Changsha Prefecture for over half a month, the imperial entourage set out southward once more. If the earlier inspections had been cursory but at least somewhat attentive, then the subsequent journey could only be described as going through the motions.

Heading south from Changsha Prefecture, within the southern circuit of Jinghu, the imperial entourage made only a brief stop for rest at Hengzhou. Along the rest of the route, they entered no cities, summoned no officials, and saw no people—and this continued all the way into the eastern circuit of Guangnan.

However, one point had to be mentioned: from the moment he set foot in the southern circuit of Jinghu, every step the old Emperor took southward broke his own records for distance and latitude in a southern tour.

In mid-winter of the twenty-ninth year of Kaibao, four months had passed since the old Emperor departed from Taikang Palace on his southern tour. The north was already covered in swirling snow and vast whiteness, and while the southern lands were not so harsh, the weather had also turned cold.

But for the old Emperor, the new region and new climate brought him a particularly special experience. When the imperial entourage arrived at Guangzhou Prefecture, the capital of the eastern circuit of Guangnan, he could not help but exclaim to those around him: "No more traveling! We'll spend this winter in Guangzhou!"

It had to be said that this winter was the most comfortable the old Emperor had enjoyed in nearly twenty years. The climate of the south, especially Guangnan, was ultimately far warmer and more pleasant than the Central Plains and the north—especially noticeable in winter.

Of course, if his old cold legs would also stop acting up in Guangzhou, that would be even better. To this day, the greatest physical torment for the old Emperor remained the wind-damp ailment that flared up severely whenever the wind blew, rain fell, or the dead of winter arrived.

The capital of the eastern circuit of Guangnan was Guangzhou, and the seat of Guangzhou Prefecture was in Panyu. The layout of Panyu City was simple and unlike the layout of the vast majority of cities in the Great Han—eastern and western outer cities with a small inner city in between, while the central outer city was where the powerful and wealthy of the Guangdong circuit congregated.

As a place that had once served as the capital of the Southern Yue Kingdom, it naturally had palaces, and they were located within the inner city. After Pan Mei pacified the two Guang regions, the former Southern Yue royal palace became the old Emperor's detached palace. Over the thirty years since, the Guangzhou Prefecture government had spent a certain amount of money each year on its maintenance—though the old Emperor had never once stayed there.

Now, the Panyu detached palace was like a beautiful woman who had painstakingly maintained her appearance for thirty years, finally receiving the old Emperor's favor. The local authorities had clearly put effort into the repair and upkeep of the Panyu detached palace. The old Emperor did not know what the Southern Yue palace had looked like thirty years ago, but the exquisite opulence of the palace before him, with its distinctly local cultural and stylistic features, truly moved him to deep sighs.

Of course, the old Emperor was not simply impressed by the luxury and splendor of the Panyu detached palace. What truly moved him—or rather, shamed him—was this: this complex of palaces had been maintained for thirty years yet never put to actual use for thirty years. And to keep it looking so splendid, how much money and grain had the Guangdong circuit and Guangzhou Prefecture spent on it over those three decades?

It was often said that grand spectacles ruin a state, but whether it was the two capitals or the more recent Taikang Palace, those grand projects at least served a certain—even considerable—purpose. But this Panyu detached palace just sat there, displayed for all to see. Had the old Emperor not taken it into his head to make this southern tour, perhaps another thirty years might have passed without any emperor ever gracing it.

The waste of resources this represented was shocking upon even brief reflection. And given the old Emperor's habitually suspicious nature, he could not help but wonder: through these thirty years of construction on the Panyu detached palace, how much benefit had the bureaucrats and officials at every level of Guangzhou Prefecture and the circuit who handled this matter skimmed off the top, how much grease had they eaten?

That was a certainty—the old Emperor had long seen through the moral bottom line of bureaucrats. And the Panyu detached palace was practically a natural "treasure basin." In this far-flung corner of the world, what better pretext than maintaining a palace for His Majesty the Emperor to marshal and invest funds and grain with fewer scruples?

Therefore, the old Emperor stayed in the palace comfortably enough, but at the same time, he had already ordered the two commissions to conduct a secret investigation into the repair projects of the Panyu detached palace over the past thirty years. The old Emperor's porcelain was not so easy to touch—it could cost a man his head at the slightest misstep.

Even though he was in the warm south, eight braziers had been set up between the halls to ward off the cold. On a soft chair that was visibly smooth and comfortable, the old Emperor reclined in his usual languid posture, wearing a single layer of clothing, his two bare legs draped over a footrest, the sparse remaining hairs on them already turning white.

He could not be without gentle, beautiful palace maids attending him. At this moment in the hall, one woman held an incense burner, one held a tray, and another bent her graceful figure, gently applying a hot compress to the old Emperor's cold legs.

Once the palace maid had finished her work, the old imperial physician, who had been waiting off to the side preparing for a while, spread open a packet of silver needles. Hunching his aged back, he respectfully requested: "Your Majesty, this old servant will now apply the needles."

"Mm!" The old Emperor did not even lift his eyelids, responding in a low voice.

Acupuncture was a habit the old Emperor had developed over many years. Though his old cold legs had never been cured—indeed, it was hard to say how much improvement there had been—a habit was a habit. Whenever the weather changed, he needed his regular needles. And the imperial physicians who performed acupuncture for the old Emperor had changed several times over the years, all of them masters of acupuncture from the Imperial Medical Bureau.

The imperial physician was clearly very cautious. He held the needle steadily, aimed at the acupoint, and as he inserted it, he did not forget to ask about the "patient's" condition: "How does Your Majesty feel? Is the pain unbearable?"

At the question, the old Emperor still did not raise his head, but with a magnanimous air, he chuckled lightly and said: "Compared to the pain of the wind-damp ailment, the pain of a few needles is like scratching an itch through one's boot.

You may proceed as you wish, apply the needles boldly. Even if you cannot cure it, it matters not—so long as it brings some slight relief!"

The old Emperor was so reasonable that the old imperial physician's mood relaxed considerably. He was just about to express his gratitude to the old Emperor when he heard the old Emperor casually add: "If you manage to ruin my legs, it would only cost you your head."

At these words, the old imperial physician's face changed drastically, his wide-open eyes filled with terror. But besides doing his utmost, what recourse did he have?

In truth, even without the old Emperor's threat, if he truly crippled the Emperor's legs, it would certainly be a capital crime. Not to mention his own head—even whether his entire family's lives could be spared was questionable. It was just that hearing it spoken directly from the old Emperor's mouth carried a completely different deterrent effect and pressure.

It was clearly noticeable that in the subsequent needle application, the old imperial physician became even more cautious, and his movements even slower.

As for the old Emperor, his attention was never on the attendants in the hall. He lay there languidly, holding a memorial in his hands, perusing it with rapt attention, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as if he had discovered something amusing.

This was a secret memorial submitted by Zhang Bin of the Palace City Office, concerning some matters regarding the aftermath left behind in Jiangling. During the old Emperor's tour, information and intelligence from all sides were converging on him, including from the court at the Western Capital, Luoyang—the political situation at court, major state policies, and especially the Crown Prince's movements.

Regarding the handling of the aftermath affairs by the two imperial grandsons, there had already been many reports. The old Emperor was not particularly interested in the specific matters, and he did not even much care about the results.

What he was truly observing was clearly the performance of the two imperial grandsons in their work. And what the memorial in his hand reported particularly caught his attention. It said that the two imperial grandsons had clashed at Jiangling Prefecture, and Liu Wenhuan had even gone to Liu Wenji's doorstep and had a loud quarrel.

The specific reason was that Liu Wenji's investigation of criminal officials was meticulous and thorough, but in the handling of certain individuals, it overlapped with those whom Liu Wenhuan was tasked with rectifying and pacifying. For these people, Liu Wenji naturally followed the imperial will, meting out judgments by the book—confiscating property where confiscation was due, exiling where exile was due.

But Liu Wenhuan believed there was no need to kill them all with one blow. Given that he had already issued his own directives downward, Liu Wenji's actions smacked of undermining him. Even after Liu Wenhuan personally came to plead in person, Liu Wenji still stubbornly held to his own view—this thoroughly enraged Liu Wenhuan.

"You carry out your duties by imperial decree—but am I not also acting on imperial command? Is Grandfather's will yours alone, Liu Wenji, to interpret?" This was probably the first fierce collision between the two brothers. In the end, Liu Wenji showed not the slightest sign of yielding, maintaining an attitude of following the imperial will before everyone.

After the old Emperor finished reading the report, the smile at the corners of his mouth gradually receded until it vanished entirely. After a long while, he finally set down the memorial and beckoned to Hu De.

"What does His Majesty command?" Hu De's attention had been fixed on the old Emperor the whole time. Seeing the gesture, he hurried forward and bent his body.

The old Emperor pondered for a moment, then instructed: "Send someone with an edict for Wenhuan and Wenji to come to Guangzhou. As for their current affairs, hand them over to Zhang Zhibai and Huyan Zan!"

"Yes! This servant will immediately have someone deliver the edict!" Hu De replied, feeling an inexplicable sense of relief in his heart—so it was just this.

After giving the order, the old Emperor picked up the memorial again to study it. His eyes were on the pages, but his mind had long since flown far away.

Even the old Emperor himself found it hard to judge whether the collision between his two imperial grandsons at Jiangling would have any impact on the Great Han Empire.