Chapter 2117: Kangzong Chronicles 4: The Carefree Emperor

As for the resolutions reached by the various chief ministers, setting aside other matters, the selection of garrison troops and the dispatch of the navy—matters involving military mobilization—naturally required a round of discussion within the Bureau of Military Affairs as well.

This matter was presided over by Guo Liangping, the "First Deputy Commissioner of Military Affairs," whose scope of authority included overall management of naval affairs. In fact, regarding the affairs of Shuaibin Prefecture, or rather the Andong State behind it, the consensus reached within the Bureau of Military Affairs was also to adopt a hardline stance, for one simple reason: the authority of the central government must not be infringed upon.

The influence a person can exert often begins with the position he occupies, and Guo Liangping was a typical example. When he led a large army in the South Seas, conquering cities and seizing territory, he once made the court deeply worried, fearing that he might become too powerful to control. Judging from Guo Liangping's past "achievements," he was not someone who could put people at ease.

However, once Guo Liangping was recalled to the capital and assumed the post of Deputy Commissioner of Military Affairs, the situation immediately changed, and the central government's influence over the South Seas rapidly strengthened. It cannot be denied that aside from the inherent authority of the central court, Guo Liangping's role as Deputy Commissioner of Military Affairs played a very significant part.

When he was in the South Seas, Guo Liangping only hoped the central government would loosen its restraints and give him more power and more support. But after returning to the capital, his considerations shifted more toward how to enhance the court's control and influence over that region which had cost him countless efforts and half a lifetime of military service.

The enfeoffment of the various states was a major national policy established by Shizu, and by now it had developed into the policy foundation for the empire's continued external expansion. The various states enjoyed a very high degree of autonomy in managing many state affairs, but from the perspective of the imperial center, it was also necessary to maintain a certain initiative—it was impossible to let go completely.

At the very least, as a banner figure of the "expansionist faction," Guo Liangping had to keep the court in a state of "openness to the outside." The most basic consideration was that if the empire abandoned external affairs and turned inward, then the people of his faction would suffer severe losses in both power and interests.

No matter how much controversy he bore, it cannot be denied that decades later, in the Pingkang era, Guo Liangping was a major power in the court and the leader of the "expansionist faction."

To protect vested interests and maintain the faction's influence, it was naturally necessary to ensure the stability of the policy foundation. Specifically regarding the enfeoffed states at home and abroad, the central government had to maintain initiative and deterrence. Restless situations like that of Andong State had to be struck down.

The attitude was consistent, but in execution, Guo Liangping still held back somewhat. Just as the chancellors in the Hall of State Affairs did not much care for Guo Liangping, finding him unruly and hard to control, Guo Liangping, who had endured decades of attacks and criticism, had likewise accumulated a great deal of resentment.

Thus, when Kou Zhun came as a representative to discuss the coordinated execution of the plan with Guo Liangping, Guo Liangping displayed his unruliness to the fullest—all sorts of conditions, all sorts of excuses, all sorts of prevarication—angering Kou Zhun so much that he broke down and cursed.

The plan was proposed by Kou Zhun, and after great difficulty a resolution had been reached, yet it was now being obstructed at the Bureau of Military Affairs, or rather by Guo Liangping. This was a major issue concerning Kou Zhun's say in the Hall of State Affairs.

As for the problems Guo Liangping raised about the troublesome adjustments to garrison and naval training plans, anyone with eyes could see these were merely excuses.

Kou Zhun was a man of great scheming and a tough style, but running into a military merit aristocrat like Guo Liangping, who had charged through seas of fire and rolled through cauldrons of oil, he could only end up eating dust. And the angrier he got, the more delighted Guo Liangping became.

At such a time, Kou Zhun displayed his flexible side. Seeing that handling things through official channels would not work, after carefully gauging Guo Liangping's psychology, he swallowed his disgust at the man's arrogance, humbled himself, and finally, at the cost of personally washing Guo Liangping's horse, unblocked the Bureau of Military Affairs' obstruction to the "Plan to Deter Andong."

Guo Liangping was naturally smug for a time. Kou Zhun was also a figure of considerable controversy in the court—though his seniority was low, he was after all among the ranks of chief ministers. Being able to make Chancellor Kou, known for his toughness, yield, naturally greatly boosted Commissioner Guo's prestige.

Of course, Guo Liangping was not targeting only Kou Zhun—he couldn't get along with any of those Yongxi-era civil chancellors. The main purpose of this move was to suppress those chief ministers. Behind Guo Liangping's actions was also exposed the mentality of a portion of the Great Han's meritorious nobility: why should those civil officials who had rendered no great service to the state hold power?

People with such mentality were by no means few, and the power they held was absolutely formidable. Under such circumstances, one had to acknowledge the role of the Prince of Lu. If not for Liu Ai, the royal prince of three reigns, relying solely on those chancellors like Zhang Qixian might not have been enough to hold the situation together—at least not in the way the court was currently being managed.

Clearly, as the co-regency arrangement continued, the political situation of the Great Han was becoming increasingly complex. Many people were slowly growing restless—Guo Liangping was merely the most visible wielder of real power.

However, struggles were struggles, frictions were frictions, but public affairs could not be neglected—this was also the bottom line of this group of powerful aristocrats. Therefore, regarding Shuaibin Prefecture, Guo Liangping was still very responsible, directly transferring two battalions of troops from the East Sea Navy to serve as garrison soldiers stationed in Shuaibin Prefecture.

At the same time, Guo Zhen, Chief Commander of the Mizhou Fleet, led a fleet on a northern "training voyage." The fleet comprised more than thirty vessels of various sizes, with over six thousand officers and men, including three new-style gunboats. Guo Zhen, aged thirty-six at the time, was—as one could tell from his surname—Guo Liangping's nephew.

As for the matter between Guo Liangping and Kou Zhun, there was a sequel. The story spread, reaching the entire capital at an astonishing speed, and the fermented public opinion in Luoyang could roughly be summed up in one sentence: Old Commissioner Guo flaunted his power and swaggered about; Chancellor Kou, a worthy minister, endured humiliation for the sake of the state.

With public opinion trending this way, one can imagine how Guo Liangping felt. His original smugness was swept away completely, and this time it was his turn to break down. It was said that at the time, Guo Liangping could not help but smash his favorite purple clay teapot.

At the same time, this incident made Guo Liangping realize how insidious and black-hearted those literati were. The pens they wielded might not be as sharp as swords, but when it came to killing, they truly could slay the spirit. From that time on, Guo Liangping and Kou Zhun loathed the sight of each other even more. Every time he saw Kou Zhun's reserved fake smile, he wanted to punch him a couple of times—that bastard was no good.

At the Prince of Lu's residence, Zeng Hui, the newly appointed Prefect about to head north to take up his post in Shuaibin Prefecture, came to pay his respects. Liu Ai received him in the southern hall.

Zeng Hui had passed the imperial examination as a jinshi in the autumn of the first year of Yongxi. Over the past sixteen years, he had served as a censor, held the post of secretary, and served as an Administrative Assistant. Previously, he had already risen to the rank of Secretariat Drafter—he was an old official who had been steeped in the empire's power center.

This time, being selected for Shuaibin Prefecture was in fact a demotion in rank, but what was valued was his experienced and capable talent. Moreover, on top of the title of Prefect of Shuaibin, an additional title of Pacification Commissioner of Haidong was added, allowing him to legitimately command and handle the military affairs of Shuaibin Prefecture. It could be said that with the support of the court, Zeng Hui would become the top leader holding both military and civil authority over Shuaibin Prefecture and the entire Haidong region.

Since the time of Shizu, the Great Han Empire had implemented "separation of military and civil affairs." However, after more than sixty years, the separation of military and civil affairs had gradually become a "political principle," and principles were often the easiest things to break when circumstances required flexibility. At least at present, in the empire's remote regions, cases of one person holding both military and civil authority were already too numerous to count.

In the hall, Liu Ai showed neither his usual modesty nor deliberate feigned foolishness. He simply and sternly told Zeng Hui directly: "I will speak plainly. Sending you to Shuaibin Prefecture was still my proposal. I refuse to accept it—I misjudged one Liu Wei, but I cannot believe I would misjudge another person, a Zeng Hui."

"The matter of Shuaibin Prefecture lies not within the prefecture itself, but in Andong State—there is no need to avoid saying this! Your going to Shuaibin Prefecture is precisely to clean up that mess, to set things right, to restore order at the source, to promote the king's civilizing influence, to redeem my honor, and to uphold the court's dignity!"

"If you have any doubts or difficulties, speak them now—I will resolve them for you first."

This was probably the most straightforward and decisive Liu Ai had been since assuming governance. There was almost no beating around the bush or circumlocution, which instead made Zeng Hui feel heavy-hearted and dare not be negligent.

"Your servant bows in gratitude for Your Highness's trust. To serve the state with loyalty, why should your servant begrudge a single journey!" Meeting Liu Ai's gaze, after a moment's deliberation, Zeng Hui said solemnly: "Before departing, your servant has only one request!"

"Speak!"

"Your servant wishes to see the guilty official Liu Wei." Zeng Hui said.

Liu Ai was momentarily taken aback upon hearing this, but seeing Zeng Hui's calm and composed old face, his expression showed sudden understanding. He waved his hand and said: "Granted!"

"His Majesty has returned victorious to the capital!"

Before Shangyang Palace, amid a burst of cheers, surrounded like stars around the moon, Emperor Liu Wenpeng, clad in military attire, urged his imperial horse and charged into the palace, followed by a train of eunuchs and riders.

All the way to the front of Guanfeng Hall, Liu Wenpeng leaped from his horse and landed steadily, tossed aside his horsewhip, and wore a hint of smug smile at the corners of his mouth. However, when he looked up and saw the Prince of Lu, Liu Ai, standing with hands folded at his sides on the palace terrace, his smile vanished without a trace. "Your servant pays respects to Your Majesty!" Liu Ai performed the ritual.

Liu Ai did not descend the steps to receive him with a bow, and Liu Wenpeng did not seem to mind. He slowly walked up the steps until he stood before him, then smiled again: "How does Uncle have leisure to come to Shangyang Palace?"

"I heard Your Majesty went hunting—may I ask what the harvest was like?" Liu Ai wore a stiff expression.

"Returned victorious, laden with bounty!" Liu Wenpeng pointed behind him and waved his hand: "Someone, show the Prince of Lu all the game!"

"Yes!" Soon, a group of guards responded and set to work, laying out the hunted pheasants, rabbits, deer, boars, and other wild game before the hall.

Liu Wenpeng said: "Today I encountered no fierce beasts, only these common things. Uncle, pick some to take back."

Upon hearing this, Liu Ai clasped his hands and said: "How dare your servant share in Your Majesty's spoils!"

"Uncle's words are too distant!" Liu Wenpeng looked at Liu Ai and said: "Uncle has toiled over state affairs on my behalf, diligent and hardworking, with great merit and labor. I have never given you any reward. Returning some game to you—I only hope Uncle will not find it too paltry!"

"Your Majesty's words are too heavy!" Liu Ai replied: "Thunder and rain, dew and frost, all are the sovereign's grace. How would your servant dare to disdain it? Since Your Majesty has seen fit to bestow this, your servant will shamelessly accept!"

"That is as it should be!" Liu Wenpeng smiled at Liu Ai, then asked his purpose: "Uncle, what brings you here?"

Liu Ai studied Liu Wenpeng for a moment, then after a brief pause, said: "Your servant has heard that Your Majesty has been hunting for ten consecutive days!"

Sensing the seriousness in Liu Ai's tone, Liu Wenpeng remained unconcerned: "That is so! I have nothing to do, so I hunt to pass the time and amuse myself."

"How can the Son of Heaven have nothing to do!" Liu Ai said: "Does Your Majesty know that for ten days of Your Majesty's hunting, there have been ten days of discussion in the court!"

"Oh? Discussing what?" Liu Wenpeng raised an eyebrow, showing great interest: "Surely they are not saying I am neglecting state affairs and indulging in pleasure!"

Saying this, Liu Wenpeng quickly added: "I should think not! The great affairs of state are all handled by Uncle and the various chancellors. For me to be a carefree Son of Heaven—surely no one would be so unreasonable as to censure me!"

Hearing Liu Wenpeng's words, sharp and barbed by turns, Liu Ai's expression could not help but darken. He opened his mouth, but facing Liu Wenpeng's cold, clear gaze, the admonitions he had prepared in his mind became difficult to voice.

"Your servant knows that Your Majesty harbors resentment—that Your Majesty bears ill will toward us for monopolizing the court." After a long moment, Liu Ai said this.

"Uncle's words are too heavy!" Before he could finish, Liu Wenpeng raised his hand to interrupt him, still with a casual air: "With Uncle and the various chief ministers toiling on my behalf, I am happy to be at leisure—cockfighting, dog racing, riding and hunting, is that not comfortable?

As for resentment, that is simply absurd. In this world, who could bear the resentment of the Son of Heaven?"

At this point, Liu Wenpeng's tone dropped low, even carrying a hint of menace. Liu Ai's heart also gave a start, and his expression unconsciously turned somewhat troubled.

Taking a deep breath, Liu Ai met Liu Wenpeng's gaze and spoke slowly in a candid tone: "We received the late emperor's edict to assist in governance, and we have always been diligent and devoted, exhausting ourselves to repay the state's grace, only fearing we might fail the late emperor's trust.

We only hope that Your Majesty will study diligently and focus on learning governance. In time, we can rest assured and return the government to the court, and retire to our homes in old age!"

Hearing Liu Ai say this, a flicker of doubt passed through Liu Wenpeng's eyes, then he said calmly, "My imperial uncle's loyalty is plain to see—how could I fail to appreciate it? This talk of retiring is premature. My uncle is only fifty; he can still serve the Great Han for at least another ten years."

With that, Liu Wenpeng yawned and said, "I'm a bit tired and need to rest. If my uncle has nothing else, you may take your leave. Oh, and remember to take a few of the hunted game with you."

Liu Ai withdrew with a heavy heart, his expression very grave, his mood naturally somber. The intrigues of the court he could weather as steadily as a mountain, treading as if on flat ground. But the Emperor's sharp-edged display gave him a feeling like thorns in his back, and inwardly he could not help but waver.

Where the problem lay, Liu Ai naturally knew, but some problems, even when one knows the answer, are in fact unsolvable. Power—especially the power at the center of an empire—its magic, the changes it brings to a person, the possibilities it creates, are nearly limitless.

For a moment, Liu Ai even wished that Liu Wenpeng truly was addicted to pleasure and obsessed with hunting. Yet Liu Ai could not deceive himself—not to mention the past half year and more, during which Liu Wenpeng had repeatedly shown his edge and frequently expressed dissent on matters of state, even that exchange just now made it clear that the Emperor's dissatisfaction was almost nakedly exposed.

Setting aside Prince Lu Liu Ai's anxious worries, over on Emperor Liu Wenpeng's side, his originally cheerful mood had also soured.

The palace eunuch at his side tried to console him, voicing criticism of Prince Lu's faults, which instead provoked Liu Wenpeng's fury, and he viciously lashed that "playmate" several times with his whip.

Still, being a young man after all, Liu Wenpeng's heart was not so narrow—his anger came quickly and went just as quickly.

That night, before the Guansheng Hall of Shangyang Palace, he held a grand barbecue feast with a crowd of attendants, guards, and palace women—drinking wine to their hearts' content, gnawing meat in big mouthfuls, singing and dancing, not stopping until midnight.

Liu Wenpeng was a filial son. Even amid his own revelry, he did not forget to order that a pot of venison he had personally cooked be sent hot to Kunning Hall for the Empress Dowager to taste.

As it turned out, Empress Dowager Murong did not appreciate the gesture—she even knocked the pot of meat over in front of the palace eunuch, making no effort whatsoever to hide her anger.

The Empress Dowager's anger stemmed mainly from two points: first, her displeasure at being forbidden from participating in governance; second, her disappointment in the Emperor—after all this time, he had accomplished nothing, had no thought of driving out the auxiliary ministers and seizing control of the court, and still had the mind for games and hunting, indulging in pleasure without restraint, not even showing the slightest willingness to vent her grievances for her as his mother.

Under such circumstances, how could Empress Dowager Murong remain calm and composed? Given her temperament, overturning the pot was already a restrained act.

On Liu Wenpeng's side, upon learning of the Empress Dowager's reaction, he paid it no mind, still putting on a carefree, heedless air, his joy undiminished—only, fine wine and cooked meat could not fill the emptiness and indignation in his heart.