Chapter 2063: Taizong Chronicles 5: Yongxi

Under the dim sky, rumbling sounds echoed across all parts of Mang Mountain. At first one might take them for winter thunder, but it soon became clear that was not the case—the sound was wrong, too dense and chaotic. This was the noise of large-scale explosives being detonated.

Deep in Mang Mountain, every mountain path, secluded valley, and route that led or might possibly lead to the High Mausoleum had been completely destroyed. The purpose was simple and clear: to protect the safety of Emperor Shizu's tomb. In this regard, Emperor Shizu had given explicit instructions during his lifetime, but his ministers had carried them out in all sorts of elaborate ways.

On the relevant mountain ridges, the court had used over three hundred thousand catties of gunpowder, distributed across various mountainsides, slopes, and gaps, ensuring that everything was transformed beyond recognition and the terrain was drastically altered.

Such an amount of gunpowder, under the current war-making model of the empire's armies, would have been more than enough to sustain a major war. Several gunpowder depots around Luoyang had been emptied.

Thus, after the concentrated detonation of the gunpowder, all that could be seen in the depths of Mang Mountain was the earth shaking and mountains quaking, birds startled and beasts fleeing, dust flying and black smoke filling the sky—as if heaven had unleashed thunder, or as if doomsday had arrived.

At the southern foot of Mang Mountain, a funeral camp had been established, where tens of thousands of consorts, imperial relatives, nobles, officials, soldiers, and palace attendants had gathered. They could only accompany the imperial coffin this far, then bow from afar as it entered the tomb.

At this moment, facing the "roar" coming from the depths of Mang Mountain, the reactions among the crowd in the camp were mostly astonishment or fear. There were even young noble children frightened into loud wailing that could not be soothed no matter what.

Gunpowder was no longer a mysterious thing in the Great Han, but people had only heard of its considerable application in warfare and in quarrying and mining. It was difficult to have an intuitive understanding of its power—and of course, nobles rarely had the opportunity to come into contact with it in daily life.

For the upper echelons of the Great Han's nobility, this was the first time they had so directly confronted an explosion of such scale. Many could not help but think of the "Great Eastern Capital Explosion" of years past, though that explosion had been largely overshadowed by the terrifying fire that followed.

Had this not been an extremely solemn and grand occasion, discussions would surely have broken out long ago. But even with restraint, it was hard to avoid the murmur of idle chatter, and some people kept standing on tiptoe and craning their necks, as if that would let them see through the thick smoke to Mang Mountain beyond.

The nobles of the Great Han did not concern themselves with the cost of several hundred thousand catties of gunpowder. They were simply immersed in the impact of such a grand spectacle, even sighing in admiration that mere mortals could create such things, produce such mighty force, and achieve such earth-shattering results.

Compared to his subjects' wonderment, Emperor Liu Yang's mood was not so pleasant. The reason was that the commotion had been too great, too extravagant and wasteful.

Even setting aside the cost of the gunpowder, the various expenditures invested in the funeral over the past few months had already exceeded three million strings of cash. Liu Yang simply could not imagine how a single funeral could cost so much money.

The loyal ministers and worthy officials of the Great Han had too many ideas and too many considerations, as if they wanted to heap every noble and beautiful quality upon Emperor Shizu. Yet, surveying the rights and wrongs of the months since the Emperor's passing, Liu Yang could not sense how many people truly cherished Emperor Shizu with wholehearted devotion. Too much of the mourning and veneration was, in essence, nothing but a political show.

Even after the roads were destroyed and traces eliminated, the matter was still not finished. The thousand or so palace attendants, guards, and craftsmen who had escorted the imperial coffin into the tomb still had to undergo a round of identity verification. After confirming nothing was missed, they would be dispersed and sent off to the various vassal states.

They could bring their families and property. Upon arriving at the vassal states, they would receive official positions, land, and even servants, becoming people of high standing there—on the condition that they could never return to the homeland for the rest of their lives.

They could also choose not to go, in which case there was another option: death. In fact, according to some people's thinking, all those who had escorted the funeral procession into the tomb should have been executed outright and buried with Emperor Shizu, for only thus could the location of the mausoleum truly be kept from being exposed.

But this suggestion, which received support from many, was firmly rejected by Liu Yang. His reasoning was simple: the palace attendants and guards were innocent, and such an act would offend heaven's harmony. It was absolutely not Shizu's intention, nor would it benefit Emperor Shizu's prestige and virtue. Thus, in the end, this arrangement was adopted.

As for those who insisted on the burial of the living with the dead, Liu Yang had a way to deal with them too: whoever insisted would take the lead in being buried alive, following Emperor Shizu to the underworld to serve him. In this way, consensus was quickly reached, and the new emperor's benevolence and virtue spread far and wide.

In addition, there was a requirement to seal off Mang Mountain for three years, prohibiting scholars and commoners from entering the mountains, and setting up checkpoints to blockade the area outside the High Mausoleum's perimeter. This clause was also the result of Liu Yang's efforts—originally, the mountain was to be sealed for ten years!

Liu Yang truly could not imagine how those gentlemen who spoke grandly of benevolence, righteousness, and virtuous governance could, when it came to devising ideas that harmed the state and troubled the people, appear so righteous and speak with such confident conviction.

It could be said that the entire funeral process made Liu Yang feel awkward and uncomfortable. There were many things he had to swallow and accept with gritted teeth. The hat called "filial piety" weighed far too heavily on his head—so heavily that bearing it was becoming a calamity for the common people.

And throughout the whole affair, the countless disputes surrounding funeral rites and protocols made Liu Yang unable to help but doubt the intentions behind every proposal and action of his ministers.

In the past, people often expressed worry or even dissatisfaction with Emperor Shizu's many machinations, putting on a show of concern for the state and the people. Now that Liu Yang sat in this position, he discovered that these ministers and bureaucrats could stir up trouble no less than Emperor Shizu could—and they could do it with grand rhetoric and plausible arguments.

So who was better at stirring things up? And who was being stirred up? Carrying such questions all the way, Emperor Liu Yang returned to Luoyang from Mang Mountain on the first day of the eleventh month.

Returning to the city, returning to the palace, arriving at Chuigong Hall—before he had even removed his mourning garments, he was informed that Academician Xu Shilian of the inner cabinet sought an audience. As a close minister of the Eastern Palace, he naturally received an audience without difficulty. And from Xu Shilian's mouth came another piece of bad news: Earl Ding'an, Li Jian, had passed away.

"How could this be? What was the cause of his death?" Liu Yang's brows furrowed slightly, a shadow of gloom spreading across his face.

Xu Shilian's voice was low and somber as he reported: "After yesterday's tomb-entering ceremony, Earl Ding'an fell ill at the field headquarters. Shortly after the hour of Zi, he passed away peacefully!"

"Why was no one sent to report this?" Liu Yang's anger was faintly rising.

Xu Shilian said: "Your Majesty, it is said that before Earl Ding'an passed, he instructed his family, saying he had already been deeply blessed by the late Emperor's grace. Death was death, and he should not disturb the court or receive further favors. For his funeral, only a single coffin and a single grave mound were needed, and it should be handled simply."

Hearing Xu Shilian say this, Liu Yang looked at him and said softly: "And how do you know all these things?"

Xu Shilian hurriedly explained: "Li Congli, the fifth son of Earl Ding'an, once served as Marshal of Fengzhou. When the Yulin rebellion broke out and bandits attacked, I became acquainted with him. After returning to court, our contact has never ceased."

Upon hearing this, Liu Yang fell silent. After a moment, he raised his head again and said with some melancholy: "Earl Ding'an's loyalty to the late Emperor is deeply moving, and his detachment and composure are equally admirable.

The passing of an old minister always evokes sighs and regret. Earl Ding'an was noble and pure, asking for no favors—but how can the court show nothing in return? Otherwise, how would the world judge us?"

After this reflection, Liu Yang asked: "What of Earl Ding'an's sons? Is there any who shows promise?"

Perceiving the Emperor's intent, Xu Shilian immediately said: "Earl Ding'an had five sons. The eldest, second, and fourth all died young. Only the third son, Congxin, and the fifth son, Congli, have grown to adulthood. The third son, Congxin, is honest and steady, having always managed household affairs at home, handling matters both internal and external properly. As for the fifth son, Congli—I have a personal friendship with him, so it would not be appropriate for me to judge."

Hearing this, Liu Yang pondered for a moment, then gave his instruction: "Let Li Congxin inherit the title of Earl Ding'an, reduced by one rank!" Then he asked: "What post does Li Congli currently hold?"

"Your Majesty, he is Judge of the Luoyang Prefecture!"

Liu Yang nodded, staring at Xu Shilian with a meaningful look: "For you, Xu Shilian, to be willing to befriend him wholeheartedly, he must not be an ordinary man—he must have talent. Promote Li Congli to Administrative Assistant of the Luoyang Prefecture!"

"Your Majesty is wise. I am deeply ashamed!" Xu Shilian bowed his head and said.

In fact, from the moment Xu Shilian mentioned Li Congli, it was tantamount to a recommendation. Liu Yang knew this perfectly well—he simply did not mind. As a close minister before the throne, enjoying certain invisible perks was only natural.

Of course, from this moment on, Xu Shilian and Li Congli were essentially bound together. If Li Congli ever got into trouble in the future, it would only be fitting for Xu Shilian to be implicated as well.

"Go and issue the edict!" Withdrawing his gaze, Liu Yang said to an old eunuch waiting in attendance in the hall.

"Yes!"

The old eunuch's name was Zheng Yuan. He appeared to be over fifty, with graying hair. He was the newly appointed Director of Palace Eunuchs, taking on the role that Wang Yue had once played at Liu Yang's side.

As for why this man was chosen, the reason was not complicated. Zheng Yuan had served Empress Xiaoxianren for over twenty years. After the Empress's passing, his status and treatment in the palace had inevitably declined, and he had previously been in charge of managing the His Majesty Hall.

When he received the new emperor's transfer order, Zheng Yuan wept with aged tears, kowtowing repeatedly before the envoy bearing the decree, expressing his gratitude and declaring that His Majesty had not forgotten the old servants.

——————

Within the imperial city, although various places still maintained the decorations of the mourning period, the entire court knew that the empire had essentially bid farewell to the Kaibao era, and history was about to turn a new page.

In the less than two months remaining of the thirtieth year of Kaibao, from the Emperor on down, the entire central court was busy with only one thing: the new emperor's coronation ceremony.

The importance of the coronation ceremony could not be overstated with any words too solemn. For Liu Yang, it was the formal declaration of the beginning of his rule over the empire, and the announcement to all subjects under heaven: you have welcomed a new emperor.

For the dukes and ministers, it was no less significant. Before the opening of a new era, there were too many entanglements of interest and struggles for power. It was a chaotic, volatile period full of uncertainty, and everyone had to make choices, wrangle, and fight for their own power and interests.

Compared to the new emperor's composure, the empire's nobles were far more tense. They had already probed and discovered that the new emperor was not so easy to get along with, and his benevolence was not something they could easily manipulate.

Every emperor brings his own ministers. For all the great officials, there hung above their heads a sword of Damocles—no one knew what position they would hold in the new court, and everyone wanted a good one.

Compared to the various struggles before the ceremony, the disputes that had occurred during the national mourning period could only be called appetizers. In this new situation, as Emperor, Liu Yang began to seize the initiative. This was the advantage conferred upon him by imperial power, and it would only grow greater. Riding this momentum, he would only become more and more composed.

The first matter in the great hall was the date of the ceremony. On this point, there was not much controversy—it was set for the first day of the first month of the coming year.

Guangzheng Hall—Liu Yang was all too familiar with this place. Over the past year, he had spent three hundred days governing in the Hall of State Affairs. However, since Emperor Shizu's coffin had returned to the capital, he had not set foot here again.

Thus, when he once again came to Guangzheng Hall, Liu Yang even felt a sense that things had changed while people remained the same. Almost habitually, he sat at the great desk where he had daily handled state affairs in the past. As he received the bows of the chancellors of the Hall of State Affairs, that strange feeling brought by the change of identity surfaced in his heart once more.

During this period, everyone had been very active and diligent. The rotation system had become a mere formality. All the chancellors arrived on time every day and stayed for the whole day. Even Minister of War Gao Qiong was like this, aside from the position of Commissioner of Military Affairs, which had been left vacant by Pan Mei's death from illness.

Even Gao Qiong knew full well that what was discussed in the Hall of State Affairs, at its largest, concerned matters of great importance to the empire's future, and at its smallest, concerned the interests of the various military and civil departments. If he did not get a hand in, who knew whether he might be schemed against by these kind-faced, black-hearted civil officials.

Liu Yang looked at Gao Qiong with an amused expression—that carefree, casual demeanor was itself an interesting sight within the Hall of State Affairs. Casting his gaze around the room, Liu Yang asked, "How have the ministers deliberated on the era name?"

Upon hearing the question, Duke Liu Ai of Lu immediately rose and replied respectfully, "Your Majesty, after careful selection by your ministers, three era names have been chosen: Duangong, Yongxi, and Zhilong. The final choice awaits Your Majesty's decision."

Liu Yang murmured the three era names to himself, a thoughtful look in his eyes, and asked softly, "Which one do the ministers favor?"

Liu Ai answered honestly, "Chancellor Zhao and others believe that since Your Majesty presides over the court with solemnity and governs with simplicity, Duangong would be most fitting!"

Hearing Liu Ai say this, before Liu Yang could react, Zhao Kuangyi was secretly startled. Meeting Liu Yang's scrutinizing gaze, he could only offer an awkward, accompanying smile.

Maintaining his enigmatic half-smile, Liu Yang pondered for a moment before speaking slowly and deliberately: "Duangong is too passive, Zhilong has yet to arrive—let it be Yongxi!"

At these words, Zhao Kuangyi and the other chancellors exchanged glances, seeming somewhat regretful, yet they all bowed with respectful obedience and proclaimed, "Your Majesty is wise!"

It's just an era name—surely it's not that important, right……