Chapter 2079: Taizong Chronicles 21: His Heart Is Hard to Fathom

"Others beg for power and office, and I don't grant it lightly—so why, out of nowhere, are you thinking of resigning?" Suppressing the doubt in his heart, Liu Yang stared at Liu Ai and said.

Liu Ai still wore that honest, unassuming look, bowing slightly as he replied respectfully: "I report to Your Majesty—on the post of Director of the Secretariat, I truly find my abilities unequal to the task. I wish to voluntarily step down and yield to the worthy; let the court select another capable man!"

"You entered the Hall of State Affairs back in the late Emperor's time—it's been over two years now. Why only now do you come to tell me your abilities are unequal?" Liu Yang clearly could not accept this reasoning and rebuked him on the spot:

"The Hall of State Affairs has ministers like Lü Duan managing matters, and Chuigong Hall has me keeping watch. You only need to bring your eyes and ears—read memorials, listen to court deliberations, sign and issue documents. Is that so hard for you?"

Sensing Liu Yang's displeasure, Liu Ai immediately lowered his head and said in a muffled voice: "Your Majesty and the chancellors deliberate on military and state affairs, discuss matters of national policy and people's livelihood—truly beyond what my virtue and ability can bear. If Your Majesty only needs a seal and a stamp, why use your younger brother..."

"You mean to say you resent that I haven't given you real power?" Liu Yang's eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke.

"This minister misspoke! I had no such intention—Your Majesty, forgive me!" Liu Ai's body tensed as he hurriedly explained.

Drawing a deep breath, under Liu Yang's somewhat stern gaze, he spoke in a low voice: "Your Majesty, it is not that I belittle myself, but that I truly know myself. My talent is shallow, my virtue lacking; merely relying on birth to hold high office—how can I command the respect of others?

Virtue not matching position does no good for the state, and holding a post without doing one's duty is not what I wish. I earnestly beg Your Majesty to see clearly!"

Logically speaking, the Director of the Secretariat governs the making of policy decisions, so the authority of the office should be considerable. However, within the central power structure of the empire, the actual scope of the office was not as simple as the law stipulated—the will of the emperor played a decisive role in it.

Combined with the political reality of the Great Han over the past decades, one can understand the nature of Liu Ai's position as Director of the Secretariat. The chancellor's power, nominally divided among the three departments, had in fact long been carved up among the chancellors' hall in Guangzheng Hall, shared by all the chancellors, while the emperor held the final power of decision.

It would be going too far to say Liu Ai held only a nominal title—after all, he still had a vote, and as a Prince, he carried some influence; the chancellors always had to show him face. But if one asked how much real power he had, it seemed to fall rather short.

Yet regardless, compared to the era of Emperor Shizu, when one was given only a title and made to occupy a seat in the Hall of State Affairs, Liu Yang's arrangement was still an improvement. As for the past half year, most imperial decisions, from the perspective of institutions and procedure, nominally originated with Liu Ai as Director of the Secretariat.

Of course, there was another very important reason for this state of affairs—as Liu Ai himself said, his personal talent and virtue were limited, and his prestige insufficient.

To give an example: back when Prince of Jin Liu Xi sat in the Hall of State Affairs, what authority he wielded—the Great Han's tax reform was carried out under his direct execution. As for Liu Ai, after more than two years, he still hadn't managed to cultivate much influence at court; his trusted followers numbered only a paltry few.

However, every loss has its gain—at least under such circumstances, the emperor's suspicion of him was much reduced. After all, the rise and fall of a chancellor's power could rarely truly threaten the imperial authority, because the Great Han's political structure itself possessed strong checks and constraints on chancellor power. By comparison, the combination of a powerful Prince and chancellor posed a far greater threat to the throne.

Clearly, Liu Ai had long been known for his "honesty and unassuming nature," and appeared mediocre and passive in the Hall of State Affairs—but Liu Yang was quite satisfied with him.

If he now wanted to step down, how could Liu Yang possibly agree? It would directly disrupt his personnel arrangements at the center. This was a weighty seat in the Hall of State Affairs—pull one hair and the whole body moves.

Therefore, even though Liu Ai made his request with earnest sincerity, Liu Yang flatly refused, even rebuking him: "Liu Ai! You remember this—this position of yours was established by the late Emperor. I dare not defy it, and you dare speak lightly of giving it up?

The Hall of State Affairs is the nerve center of national power, bearing on the altars of state and the livelihood of the people. It is not a teahouse or tavern where you may come and go as you please!"

Under normal circumstances, when the emperor brought out Emperor Shizu to pressure someone, Liu Ai should not have dared to persist.

But unexpectedly, Liu Ai frowned in deep thought for a moment, then stubbornly insisted: "The late Emperor advocated appointing people by merit, and chancellors were selected and promoted, necessarily rising from prefectural posts. Yet in my thirty-seven years, not to mention prefectural duties, I have rarely even left the capital region. My talent is lacking, my experience insufficient—how can I bear such a heavy responsibility!"

"Moreover!" At this point, Liu Ai suddenly paused, raised his head to glance at Liu Yang, then continued: "Fourth Brother's literary talent and martial prowess far surpass mine. If Fourth Brother remains idle, what face do I have to presumptuously occupy a high position?"

Hearing this, the anger that had been stirred in Liu Yang's heart suddenly dissipated considerably, replaced by suspicion and jealousy—after all, this involved the Prince of Zhao.

It was already early August now, and the court at Luoyang remained bustling, but the voices of the feudal princes had grown much fewer. Most princes with fiefs had returned to their domains—even Liu Wenhai had set out with his retinue, going to campaign in the Burma region with the assistance of the Prince of Jin's subordinates and officials, to conquer his fief. At this point in time, the flames of war had already risen on the Indochinese Peninsula.

Of course, some had stayed—for instance, the Prince of Zhao, Liu Fang. He too had requested leave before the Emperor, but Liu Yang had persuaded him to remain.

As for the Prince of Qi, Liu Yun, despite his deep attachment to his homeland, to his mother, the Dowager Consort Zhe, and to every aspect of the Great Han, he still departed before the beginning of autumn, bidding farewell to his mother, the Emperor, and his brothers, and set off back to North Gold Province with sorrow and reluctance.

The Prince of Qi, Liu Yun, had always been an easygoing man, but unlike before, this time at his send-off he wept bitterly. His stern father had passed, his loving mother was aging; this journey of ten thousand li—a living parting might well be a parting by death. Even if there was a chance to return, who knew what year or month that would be.

But Liu Yun was also a clever man—he had reasons he had to leave. Not only to follow the late Emperor's last wishes, but because the court, and even the capital region, could no longer accommodate another Prince.

Liu Fang, Liu Yun, and Liu Ai—these three brothers, all born of the Dowager Consort Zhe, were full siblings. Three Princes, with the eighth brother Liu Ai even seated in the chancellors' hall as Director of the Secretariat—if all three lingered together in the capital, it would be far too conspicuous. Therefore, Liu Yun decisively chose to go to his fief on his own initiative.

Liu Ai needed no mention—his fief had not yet been determined. As for Liu Fang, although Liu Yang had kept him in the capital, he had given no clear explanation, only granting him the honorary title of Grand Academician of the Grand Secretariat, to serve as an advisor for consultation.

To be fair, this was of course an injustice to Liu Fang. He was the Prince of Zhao with countless achievements! What he needed was not a title radiating the glow of honor, nor even high office or heavy power. What Liu Fang lacked was respect from the new Emperor—and precisely that was in question with Liu Yang. After all, some respect must be shown through actual power and tangible benefits.

Toward Liu Fang, Liu Yang had in fact been observing, pondering, and testing him all along, his feelings toward him especially complex—admiring his martial brilliance, yet wary of his great achievements and high prestige. Of course, Liu Yang was not so petty as to lack even that much tolerance; it was just that as an emperor, he instinctively harbored doubts in his heart.

At the same time, Liu Yang was carefully pondering the intent behind Emperor Shizu's final edict summoning Liu Fang back to the capital—this was what puzzled him most. Until he had thought this matter through clearly, Liu Yang would not make a decision lightly.

Of course, it wasn't as if he had no direction at all. After this long period of deliberation, Liu Yang had some guesses: perhaps Emperor Shizu had wanted the Prince of Zhao, Liu Fang, to return to the capital to assist him.

In the ruling system of the Great Han Empire, the Emperor was undoubtedly the anchor that steadied the seas, but he also needed meritorious ministers and nobles as pillars, and temple ministers and grand officials as rafters. On top of that, there were the imperial princes of the royal house as supplementary supports to hold up the heavens and guard the throne.

During Liu Yang's reign, for the imperial clan to play its due role at court, relying solely on the aging Prince of Xu was clearly insufficient; Liu Ai lacked the ability. Counting them all up, only the princes carefully cultivated by Emperor Shizu remained.

Based on some of his late-life arrangements, the initial choice may have been the Prince of Jin, Liu Xi. But heaven did not grant men's wishes—Liu Xi fell ill among the Tibetans and unfortunately passed away in Chengdu. Amid the grief, a replacement had to be found, and among the imperial clan, the only candidate was Liu Fang.

Within the imperial clan, the role of pillar to hold up the heavens and guard the throne—that was the position Emperor Shizu had assigned to the Prince of Zhao, Liu Fang. On the other hand, to guard against one-sided wishful thinking, Shizu had also enfeoffed Liu Fang with the Northern Court Kingdom—the intent being that if Liu Yang felt he had no need for such a figure as Liu Fang to bear that responsibility, he could simply send him back to his fief.

The consideration may have been somewhat complicated, even somewhat one-sided, but it was the answer Liu Yang had arrived at through long reflection, and also the outcome he leaned toward.

Based on this conclusion, it was now Liu Yang's turn to make a choice—and this decision did not seem so easy to make. On one hand, there was his instinctive wariness of Liu Fang; on the other, he inwardly acknowledged that the court and the imperial house needed such a figure.

At least during the turmoil of the "Fief Debate" earlier in the year, Liu Fang had assisted in handling matters quite well. That the storm had ultimately been calmed smoothly owed much to Liu Fang—on this point, no one else could have achieved the effect Liu Fang's intervention produced.

It was easy to imagine that in the future, in many matters that gave Liu Yang difficulty, Liu Fang could still play some special and important role—which was also what Liu Yang hoped for in his heart.

Perhaps Liu Yang himself hadn't noticed that since his ascension, in many matters beyond his accustomed scope, he had shown a certain hesitation. This might be because he had not yet fully adapted to the change in his identity, with much of the conservatism and caution from his Crown Prince days still lingering in his thinking.

His worries were too many and too heavy. Thinking thrice before acting was naturally commendable, but excess was as bad as deficiency—hesitating on everything was likewise not a good habit. If he could not rouse himself in time, Liu Yang would only struggle more and more in his governance decisions.

Setting aside the distant matters, at least for now, at least regarding the Prince of Zhao, Liu Fang, Liu Yang had not yet reached a firm decision.

However, in recent days, some rumors had appeared in the capital targeting the Prince of Zhao, Liu Fang. Quite a few people believed the court was treating him unfairly. To be honest, the Prince of Zhao's prestige in the capital was indeed very high—stories about him had long circulated among the streets and alleys, and he was a frequent subject in the mouths of storytellers in teahouses and taverns.

And amid the gossip, it was inevitable that the Prince of Lu, Liu Ai, would be brought out for comparison with the Prince of Zhao, Liu Fang. These two, though born of the same mother, were utterly outmatched in every aspect—Liu Fang crushed Liu Ai in all comparisons.

How could a Prince of Lu with no achievements and no virtue hold authority above the Prince of Zhao? And for a younger brother to overshadow his elder—did that not violate the principles of fraternal duty?

Such rumors were deeply wounding, practically roasting the brothers Liu Fang and Liu Ai over a fire. The source of the rumors was still unknown, but the very emergence of such public sentiment itself signified a dissatisfaction with the current court, and Liu Yang took it very seriously.

Therefore, when Liu Ai directly invoked his fourth brother Liu Fang, Liu Yang fell silent for a moment. After thinking for a while, he asked directly: "Are you troubled by those rumors?"

"Many voices, many claims—gossip is a fearful thing!" Liu Ai replied, as if that were indeed the reason.

Liu Yang grew annoyed: "Much ado about nothing! Something utterly baseless can throw you off balance? You are a dignified Prince and chancellor—how can you be pressured by such petty slander?"

"Your servant is but a common man!" Liu Ai drew a deep breath and clasped his hands: "In both talent and virtue, Fourth Brother far surpasses me. For the state and for the people, he is better suited to assist in governance.

I do not consider myself one who seeks fame by false pretenses, but the tide of popular sentiment is something I cannot swim against. Better to retreat bravely before the current turns—I earnestly beg Your Majesty to grant my wish!" With that, Liu Ai gathered his robes and sleeves, performed a grand bow, and directly knelt in supplication.

Seeing his manner and hearing his words, Liu Yang's brows nearly twisted into knots, but he calmed his emotions. After a long moment, he finally asked in a leisurely tone: "Eighth Brother, you wouldn't happen to be here to plead Fourth Brother's case, would you?"

Hearing this, Liu Ai's expression shifted slightly, and he immediately said: "Your servant is only stating the facts!"

Carefully scrutinizing Liu Ai for a while, Liu Yang resumed a composed expression, looked at him, and said with weighty sincerity: "A few rumors can throw a dignified Prince and Director of the Secretariat into such disarray. If I granted your request, wouldn't that be playing right into their hands?

If we were to change chancellors because of those clamorous rumors, then where would the court's authority stand? Wouldn't that be telling those with ulterior motives that spreading a few rumors could influence the court's appointments, even redirect the course of governance?

Wouldn't that fan the flames of rumor? Wouldn't the realm be flooded with hearsay and gossip on every side? How could the state ever know peace?"

"Therefore, no matter what, I absolutely cannot grant your request to resign!"

Hearing his imperial brother say this, Liu Ai seemed somewhat shaken, unable to help straightening up, a look of difficulty spreading across his face.

Seeing this, Liu Yang spoke again: "If you feel tired, you may return to your princely residence to cultivate your mind and nature. I grant you three days of leave."

Upon hearing this, Liu Ai's face took on a bitter expression, and he called out in great distress: "Your Majesty, your servant—"

Liu Yang had no intention of listening to him, and continued: "As for Fourth Brother, I have my own arrangements, no need for you to worry! You may withdraw now!"

Liu Ai opened his mouth again, but seeing his imperial brother's unrefusable demeanor, he could only bow and take his leave.

"Wait!"

Before he had walked two steps, Liu Ai was called back. He turned around and bowed: "Your Majesty has further instructions?"

Looking at Liu Ai, Liu Yang's eyes rolled twice, and he said softly: "Since you feel you are merely occupying a post without doing anything, I cannot remain indifferent either, lest your mind remain unsettled!

All the Chancellors in the Hall of State Affairs have situations of overseeing and acting on behalf of various ministries. Lord Yang is burdened with heavy affairs at the Censorate. From now on, you may assist in overseeing supervisory matters—help Lord Yang share some of the load!"

Hearing this, a slight ripple appeared in Liu Ai's eyes. Over the past six months, Liu Yang had indeed provided strong support to Yang Ye and the Censorate—not only elevating Yang Ye's status in the Hall of State Affairs, but also carrying out efficiency reforms within the supervisory system. To strengthen the Censorate's authority, he had even placed restrictions on the Palace City and Military Virtue Commissions, especially in ordinary judicial and supervisory matters, no longer permitting those two commissions to interfere as casually and roughly as they had in the past.

Under such circumstances, the censors of the Censorate naturally had an easier time of it. They could hold their heads high both inside and outside the court, and their voice was greatly strengthened. As the Left Chief Censor, Yang Ye's status also rose with the tide.

It could be said that the Censorate nowadays was a fine place to go for bureaucrats seeking advancement—even as a transitional post, it was true gilding.

Liu Yang's offer of the authority to co-supervise the Censorate was certainly made with full sincerity. However, after a brief hesitation, Liu Ai still chose to decline, responding: "Your Majesty's regard and care move me to tears of gratitude. But the solemnity of supervision requires an iron-faced upright minister. I have measured my virtue and weighed my ability—my conduct is slow and hesitant, hardly fit for the task!"

"Today, you have been belittling yourself before me all along, describing yourself as utterly useless! Could it be that both the late Emperor's judgment and mine were wrong, that we both failed to recognize talent?" Calmly scrutinizing Liu Ai, Liu Yang slowly spoke these words.

"Your servant would not dare!" Liu Ai hastily indicated: "Your servant obeys the command!"

However, Liu Yang changed his tune: "Since you feel unequal to the weight of the Censorate, I will not force you! That being so—the autumn examinations are but a few days from opening. You shall serve as Co-Examiner alongside Master Li.

You need not grade papers or select candidates—only guard the examination hall, enforce the examination regulations, eliminate fraud, ensure the examinations are fair, just, and conducted in an orderly manner, and do your utmost with full diligence and responsibility, selecting a batch of talented men for me!

This should not be too difficult for you, nor exceed the scope of your abilities, should it?"

With Liu Yang having spoken thus, how could Liu Ai dare raise any objection? He immediately responded: "Your servant accepts the edict and will exert every effort!"

It was now early August of the first year of Yongxi. Unlike previous years, the people of Luoyang, besides preparing to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival, were once again witnessing a new batch of scholars leaping over the dragon gate. The flourishing, flower-bedecked city of Luoyang was especially lively.

This year was already a major examination year by regular schedule, but because the spring examinations had been delayed by a series of events—the passing of Emperor Shizu, the new emperor's ascension, and so forth—Liu Yang had issued a special edict at the start of the year postponing the examinations to autumn, giving the relevant officials and all the scholars of the realm an extra half year of preparation time.

As the first imperial examination after his ascension, and in the first year of his reign, Emperor Liu Yang could not be too careful. He appointed Grand Tutor and Grand Secretariat Academician Li Fang as Chief Examiner, and Jia Huangzhong, the former Vice Minister of Personnel who had just been promoted to Minister of Rites in early autumn, as Examination Supervisor.

Now with Liu Ai sent to oversee as well, the scholars of this session could count themselves fortunate—those who managed to stand out would surely be distinguished from other years. This too was a stroke of fortune. For scholars across the realm, some political credentials sometimes came down to timing; if one happened to be in the right place, one naturally acquired a special quality that could prove crucial at critical junctures in one's official career.

Liu Ai had thus been dispatched away, but at the same time, Liu Yang's mood had been ruined. He was already out of sorts over the drought in Jiannan and Dongchuan, and now Liu Ai had to pull this stunt—what sort of mischief was he up to!

Unable to settle his mood, and with no interest in reading memorials, Liu Yang simply rose and went out for a stroll, ordering someone to summon Wang Yue, Commissioner of the Palace City.

In the high autumn of the eighth month, the wind was clear and the air crisp. After the lingering summer heat had passed, the climate became even more pleasant. Beneath the blue sky and white clouds, Liu Yang strolled along the palace paths, his mood finally improving somewhat, the grim expression on his face giving way to a measure of ease and contentment—until Wang Yue arrived.

"Have you traced the source of the rumors about the Prince of Zhao in the capital?" Liu Yang asked with a dark face.

Wang Yue seemed somewhat hesitant. Rumors were the hardest thing to investigate, and the capital was by nature a breeding ground for gossip. Too many influential rumors and children's ditties in the past had ended with investigations petering out, their origins never determined.

Noticing the Emperor's displeased expression, Wang Yue ultimately did not dare answer directly, but instead said: "Your servant will dispatch more men and intensify the investigation—I will surely drag out the petty villains behind this!

Additionally, might it be advisable to take measures to prohibit such discussion?"

"No need!" Liu Yang rejected it outright.

A small matter—if it were made into a city-wide uproar, that would hardly be fitting. Although the rumors contained veiled insinuations, they were not worth making a great fuss over. Doing so would only make him, the Emperor, look guilty and intolerant.

After pondering for a moment, Liu Yang asked again: "You have informants in the Prince of Lu's household, do you not?"

Hearing this, Wang Yue's expression shifted slightly. The Prince of Lu was currently at the height of imperial favor, and he could not help but say nervously: "Reporting to His Majesty, our office merely follows standard procedure—there is absolutely no intention of offending the Prince of Lu. His Majesty must see clearly!"

Hearing this, Liu Yang waved his hand, fell silent for a while, as if the words were hard to utter, but eventually spoke: "Keep a closer watch on the Prince of Lu's household as well!"

Wang Yue was startled, unable to resist glancing up at the Emperor. But seeing the indifferent look on his face, he did not dare ask further and immediately responded: "Yes!"

It could be said that at least at this moment, Liu Yang's suspicion was no longer directed solely at the Prince of Zhao—he had also begun to harbor doubts about Liu Ai, the Prince of Lu. Today's request to resign gave him a certain uneasy feeling; Liu Ai seemed suspect of putting on an act.

Liu Yang could not help but wonder: was Liu Ai's request truly a sincere resignation, an attempt to yield his position to Liu Fang? Or had he sensed the "threat" Liu Fang posed to his standing, and was retreating in order to advance?

Or even—through such means and maneuvers, provoking his own suspicion, thereby squeezing Liu Fang out of the capital.

If it were the latter, then what kind of scheming heart lay hidden beneath the Prince of Lu's honest and unassuming exterior? Even Liu Yang, thinking on it, felt a chill run down his spine.

The human heart was always hard to fathom. News of the Prince of Lu's request to resign spread through Luoyang's upper circles as if on wings, and naturally reached the ears of Liu Fang, the Prince of Zhao.

Hard to say what Liu Fang felt upon hearing it, but before long, while public opinion was still fermenting further, the Prince of Zhao took the initiative to submit a memorial with two purposes: first, to confess his faults; second, to request resignation.

The former made clear his intentions to Emperor Liu Yang—that he had nothing to do with the rumors in the capital, and absolutely no intention of manipulating public sentiment to pressure for promotion or authority; the latter, through concrete action, expressed his willingness to leave the capital for his fief, so as not to put the Emperor in a difficult position.

Perhaps it was the Prince of Zhao's open conduct and candid attitude that moved Liu Yang, who ultimately issued an edict of retention, not allowing him to return to the Northern Court.

And since he was keeping the man, he had to give an explanation. Two days before the autumn examinations began, Emperor Liu Yang issued an edict increasing Liu Fang's salary and expanding his fief (granting him two or three small towns in the northwestern part of Gaochang Circuit bordering the Northern Court), while praising him with resplendent words. Most crucially, he appointed him as Grand Secretariat Academician and Assistant Chief Minister.