Chapter 2064: Taizong Chronicles 6: A New Emperor, New Ministers

He did not stay long in the Hall of State Affairs. This visit was purely on a whim—to comfort the chancellors and express the Emperor's care for his ministers. As for the matters the chancellors had been discussing in the Hall of State Affairs during this period, Liu Yang had a fairly good idea of them.

Not to mention the many trusted aides Liu Yang had grown accustomed to using, even the dukes and chancellors who deliberated daily in the Hall of State Affairs, the heads of the various central ministries and departments, and the nobles with any seniority—were they not all eagerly running to Chuigong Hall, actively communicating and reporting to the new emperor?

Almost everyone knew that the empire was about to undergo a great upheaval, even a transformation unseen in decades. In the past twenty or thirty years, no matter how many cleansing-style political campaigns Emperor Shizu had launched internally under various pretexts, no matter how many people he had killed or how many disturbances he had provoked, the fundamental structure of the Great Han court had never undergone a radical change.

This was determined by Emperor Shizu. The Great Han's institutions, national conditions, and all its developments and changes were, on a macro level, all centered around Emperor Shizu's personal will.

And those things that had once been deeply entrenched would finally begin to shake with the new emperor's ascension—both because it was the trend of the times, a historical inevitability, and also because some of the things the old emperor had done in the past were not quite in line with popular sentiment.

Moreover, if change was to come, the first thing to change would be official positions. Though this started from the surface, it was also the simplest, most fundamental, most familiar, and most acceptable form of change.

For the ministers, personnel changes entailed a redistribution of power and shifts in interests. No one wanted to fall behind in this rare great transformation that came once in thirty years. Even if they could not advance further, they should at least preserve their current interests—though that was fundamentally impossible.

And Liu Yang, as the emperor, was also considering these matters. He could sit calmly by while his ministers fought for power and profit, observing from the center, mediating and arbitrating—but the precise balance to strike required careful deliberation on his part.

On the way back to Chuigong Hall, Liu Yang's mind was full of the personnel situation and power structure of the Hall of State Affairs. It could be said that in the more than half a year since Zhao Pu's death, the Hall of State Affairs had been in a state of dispersed equilibrium. After all, there was no one who could dominate the ministers the way Zhao Pu had, and from sovereign to subjects, no one would permit such a figure to emerge again. Even Zhao Pu's authority had been a product of circumstance—the Son of Heaven had been willing to delegate power.

Therefore, after Zhao Pu and before Emperor Shizu's death, the Hall of State Affairs—as the highest power center of the Great Han Empire—had in fact existed in an unprecedented state of balance.

Lü Duan had advanced through his position and seniority to become the foremost among the ministers, but he simply could not command the respect of all. His carelessness and muddle-headedness over small matters had almost become his trademark. As for Xin Zhongfu, he had once been regarded as Zhao Pu's vanguard.

As for Han Hui, his prestige and standing were insufficient to overawe the ministers; his nickname "Sack Chancellor" was even privately mocked by some. Yang Ye was acceptable as a general, but as a chancellor, as a bureaucrat, he still needed tempering. The Bureau of Military Affairs and the Ministry of War formed a relatively independent system, whose structural positioning and operational mechanisms both emphasized checks and balances.

Such a balance was, of course, favorable to the sovereign, and it was what Liu Yang wanted to maintain. However, remaining completely unchanged was clearly impossible—otherwise, how could the new spirit of the Yongxi era be manifested?

And with the return of Zhao Kuangyi and Li Fang, the situation in the Hall of State Affairs became even more complicated. These two would overshadow the other chancellors in every respect. If one also counted Zhang Qixian, whom Liu Yang planned to employ, the number would approach ten—rather bloated.

Even if it were a matter of choosing seven out of ten, deciding which three to exclude was no easy task and warranted careful consideration.

First, there was Liu Ai—as the representative of the imperial clan, he was guaranteed a seat. The Bureau of Military Affairs and the Ministry of War had held two fixed seats for decades, tied to the interests of the meritorious nobles and the military—those could not be touched. Li Fang and Zhao Kuangyi—one was the imperial tutor, the other an imperial relative. Although Liu Yang had placed a question mark on Zhao Kuangyi, excluding him entirely still felt somewhat inappropriate.

Han Hui had managed the Finance Commission for many years, shrewd and capable; dismissing him from the chancellorship would be a pity. Yang Ye was both a meritorious noble and the head of the court's supervisory system. In this regard, Liu Yang even wanted to strengthen his authority—he could not be moved either. Liu Yang had always believed that in imperial oversight, one must return to orthodox principles and righteous conduct, and not rely excessively on secret-police politics.

As for Zhang Qixian, he was the vanguard Liu Yang had selected after years of observing governance and people, chosen to reform and correct the accumulated ills of the Kaibao era. Comparing everyone, it turned out that Lü Duan and Xin Zhongfu—the two chancellors with the highest seniority in the central government—seemed the most suitable to be removed.

The personnel arrangements for the Hall of State Affairs involved only a handful of people when counted up, but for Liu Yang, it was an extremely vexing problem, touching upon the division of power at the empire's upper levels and the functioning of the court. It was also a problem that urgently needed resolution—the new year's first day was drawing ever closer, and time waited for no one.

And for Liu Yang, the reason handling this was so difficult, so fraught with hesitation and agonizing, was most critically because he did not possess the overwhelming power and prestige his father had wielded to suppress everything. He also could not bring himself to berate, demote, or even kill people at the slightest provocation—that did not suit his personal style or his philosophy of governance.

Therefore, he needed to achieve the adjustment of the court as smoothly as possible, with thorough consideration and minimized conflict. But how difficult it was to accomplish this! Indeed, the deeper he thought in this direction, the more Liu Yang felt his own deliberations were laughable, and he felt an impulse to continue Emperor Shizu's style—how simple and crude that would be!

However, that was merely a passing thought. From the insight Liu Yang had accumulated through years of holding power, Emperor Shizu's methods could only be employed by Emperor Shizu himself. If one who was not that man forcibly attempted them, the result would likely be a farce, ending in a mess of feathers and chaos.

At the same time, through careful reflection and summation of the developments and changes of the past half year, Liu Yang had also become aware of a very important issue. In the past, the dukes and ministers of the Great Han had mostly shown him, the Crown Prince, deference and respect. The reasons, besides his own demonstrated tolerance, composure, and approachability, included another very important factor—perhaps that Emperor Shizu was watching from above.

With the old man suppressing the realm, who would dare to "bully" the Crown Prince, defy imperial authority, and court death? Now that the great umbrella shielding him from wind and rain was gone, getting those wolf-like, tiger-like nobles to remain obedient, content, proper, and respectful—how could that be so easy?

With considerable doubt and anxiety, Liu Yang returned to Chuigong Hall, where Hanlin Academician Wang Dan was waiting. Upon inquiry, Wang Dan presented Liu Yang with a draft proclamation for the coronation ceremony. This matter equally deserved Liu Yang's attention—indeed, it was of paramount importance, as this would nearly mark the formal beginning of his imperial career. Wang Dan, a descendant of a renowned minister, was only in his thirties, a jinshi graduate with outstanding talent, and Liu Yang had high expectations for his prose.

However, after reading through the document he had written, Liu Yang furrowed his brow. Seeing the emperor lost in thought, Wang Dan's heart also tightened—clearly His Majesty was dissatisfied with his work, though he dared not speak up for the moment.

Only after Liu Yang set down the document did Wang Dan dare to ask: "Your servant's learning is limited, and I have failed to fully grasp Your Majesty's intentions. If there are errors, I humbly beg Your Majesty to correct them."

Seeing Wang Dan's anxiety and uncertainty, Liu Yang waved his hand at him, thought for a moment, and said in his usual gentle manner: "Minister Wang's talent is moving, your prose is brilliant, your organization is clear, and your understanding of my instructions is profound.

However, if there are shortcomings, in my view, there are only two points. The summary of the late emperor's lifetime achievements is too general, there seems to be an insinuation regarding Kaibao-era governance, and there is too much emphasis on my intent for reform.

Revise it again."

As he spoke, Liu Yang could not help but sigh, raising his hand to rub his face vigorously, looking exhausted.

"Yes!" Wang Dan acknowledged. Adjusting his writing to match the imperial will was something a minister like him excelled at.

However, he could not help but privately ponder the political intent behind the emperor's instructions. Clearly, after nearly half a year of "polishing," Liu Yang had decided to proceed steadily. The earlier urgency to correct the governance failures of Emperor Shizu's later years had cooled considerably under the impact of those old ministers and grand officials.

On the first day of the first month of the first year of Yongxi (993), Liu Yang held his coronation ceremony at Qianyuan Hall in Ziwei Palace. The grandeur of the occasion, the fervor of the atmosphere, and the number of attendees could be said to have set a precedent in history. In comparison, Emperor Shizu's coronation ceremony at Chongyuan Hall in the Eastern Capital back then was practically a makeshift production.

And compared to the ceremony's own solemnity and grandeur, the nobles of the Great Han were more concerned with where the court would head under the rule of the Yongxi Emperor, and what positions they would occupy in the new government.

After the repeated probing and jostling of the early period, most people had some expectation, but until the final answer was revealed, they could not rest easy. This point was resolved with the promulgation of the new emperor's edicts.

Thus, during the full half-hour reading of the edict, not a single noble in Qianyuan Hall had their mind on Wang Dan's splendid prose from beginning to end, let alone carefully pondering the governing philosophy and policy leanings the new emperor had hidden within the text. When the section on rewards for meritorious officials was mentioned, nearly everyone perked up.

Upon a new emperor's ascension, it was customary to bestow rewards and comfort upon the veteran ministers of the previous reign, to commend their service to the late emperor and their loyalty to the court—perhaps also carrying a hint of turning the page on past matters.

Next came the personnel changes everyone cared about. The results, naturally, brought joy to some and sorrow to others. Even though Liu Yang had wielded his scalpel with great care and adjusted cautiously, the new central structure had still undergone enormous changes compared to before.

Duke of Lu, Liu Ai, became Vice Director of the Secretariat; Lü Duan became Director of State Affairs; Zhao Kuangyi became Left Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs; Han Hui became Right Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs; Zhang Yong became Finance Commissioner; Yang Ye remained Left Chief Censor; Cao Bin was reappointed Commissioner of Military Affairs; Gao Qiong remained Minister of War.

It could be said that the most core superstructure of the Great Han Empire was now constituted by these people. Apart from Zhang Yong, who was somewhat unexpected, the others were in line with expectations. Of course, Zhang Yong was clearly qualified—after all, he was a meritorious official of the Kaibao era. The surprise was only because he had long served as a major regional official in the provinces.

The only one who seemed forlorn was Xin Zhongfu. Though he was compensated with the post of Administration Commissioner of Jiangnan Circuit, how could that compare to a central chancellor? As the only one of the old Hall of State Affairs veterans to be removed, he had suffered losses in both power and prestige this time.

Li Fang was granted the title of Grand Preceptor, and since he had voluntarily requested retirement, it saved Liu Yang some difficulty. As for Zhang Qixian, Liu Yang planned to wait for a more opportune moment—besides, he had barely warmed the seat of his post as Administration Commissioner of the Capital Circuit.

In addition, Ma Huaiyu was transferred to the Patrol Inspectorate to succeed Cao Bin. At the same time, Zhang Yongde of the Palace Command was transferred to serve as Chief Commander of Hedong—this was also one of the preconditions for Cao Bin's reappointment as Commissioner of Military Affairs.