Chapter 2125: Kangzong Arc 11: The Era of Co-Rule

As for whether Emperor Liu Wenpeng could change, it was inevitable—after all, he had finally taken personal control of the government, and at last he could do some of the things he wanted to do.

However, before that, Liu Wenpeng needed to find someone to take over the position of Director of State Affairs, and this gave Liu Wenpeng quite a headache.

Given Liu Wenpeng's temperament, he initially thought about simply abolishing the position of Director of State Affairs, because he found that the power of the "Chief Chancellor" of the Great Han Empire had too much of a restraining effect on him as Emperor.

Of course, this kind of thought was merely a thought—just thinking about it was enough. Liu Wenpeng truly did not dare to take such a major action as abolishing the chancellorship. This involved the issue of "ancestral institutions," and to a certain extent, it was far more serious than suppressing or sidelining the chancellors.

When one chancellor fell, someone would always take his place, and everyone would still thank the Emperor for giving them the opportunity. But if he directly smashed the rice bowl, then he could hardly blame the ministers for invoking the laws of the ancestors to fight back.

By the time of the fourth emperor, matters of the Great Han Empire were clearly no longer decided by the Emperor alone. That Liu Wenpeng could take personal control of the government only proved that he held the initiative in grasping imperial power—but compared to Taizong, he was still worlds apart, let alone compared to Shizu.

Even setting that aside, the empire's chancellorship system had been passed down from Shizu from the very beginning, and the Director of State Affairs' position as the leadership core within that system had been thoroughly established as early as when Zhao Pu became chancellor for the second time—and Shizu's will was likewise embodied throughout.

Even Taizong did not dare to lightly alter what Shizu had established, so how could a mere Liu Wenpeng? Don't forget that although Taizong carried out many reforms during his fourteen years on the throne, which resulted in many obvious changes in the empire's appearance between the Kaibao era and the Yongxi era—

But in fact, what Taizong truly did was only to correct and perfect Shizu's policies and institutions. He changed quite a few things, but he strengthened even more. Ten thousand changes, yet never departing from the core—the most fundamental things of the empire were still Shizu's system. What Taizong truly did was to carry on the legacy and open up the future.

And things that had been continued for decades were not something that Liu Wenpeng, a young emperor who had been on the throne for barely four years, could easily change.

To be fair, for Emperor Liu Wenpeng, driving out chancellors like Liu Ai, Zhang Qixian, and Lü Mengzheng, or even expelling every single Yongxi auxiliary minister from the central government, was not too difficult a task.

What was truly difficult was truly and thoroughly mastering this empire, mastering this mature system of social governance, and smoothing over those invisible conflicts and power struggles. If he could accomplish these things, then and only then would Liu Wenpeng be qualified to touch fundamental things like institutions and rules.

Within the entire imperial system constructed by Emperor Shizu, the Emperor theoretically could possess unlimited power—but that power, precisely, did not include the right to modify the "ancestral institutions."

That Emperor Taizong could slightly touch upon them was supported by his thirty-plus years as Crown Prince and the formidable strength and enormous prestige accumulated through many years of governing. Even so, he was cautious, as if treading on thin ice, and even openly had to raise high and loudly proclaim the banner and slogan of "Imperial Han ancestral law."

If Taizong was like this, then Liu Wenpeng was even less worth mentioning. Without the authority of Shizu and Taizong, yet wanting to exercise their great power, problems were bound to arise. If he dared to change the ancestral law—especially those aspects involving the fundamental interests of the powerful and privileged—then it was foreseeable that a great wave of people would raise the established laws of the ancestors high and fight the Emperor over it.

Once such a situation formed, the forces Liu Wenpeng could draw upon would be few. Those meritorious nobles and important ministers who had previously stood on his side might all become his opponents. Even those "Emperor's Party" members who had risen through favoritism would not necessarily be free of doubt—after all, such people were far more keen and clever than ordinary men at reading the winds and knowing which way to turn.

Having just taken hold of great power, Liu Wenpeng was naturally riding high and insufferably arrogant. However, he might not have been able to see the hidden intricacies and key points, but the people around him were not all stupid. For instance, the three-dynasty old servant, Director of the Palace Liu Gui, and the newly promoted Vice Director of the Secretariat and chancellor Wang Qimruo—when the Emperor revealed his intention to abolish the chancellorship, both changed expression in alarm and strenuously dissuaded him, laying out the consequences.

Especially Wang Qimruo—although deep down he strongly supported abolishing the "Chief Chancellor" authority of the Director of State Affairs, since as a newly promoted chancellor his seniority was thin and he could barely stand firm in the Hall of State Affairs, which would have benefited him—still, as someone who planned for the long term, Wang Qimruo clearly did not dare to give the Emperor advice that would incur public wrath.

And besides Liu Gui and Wang Qimruo, even Commissioner of the Palace City Wang Yue and Commissioner of the Wude Office Lin Te all offered Liu Wenpeng words of dissuasion or warning.

Seeing that the trusted intimates and "meritorious officials" around him all held relatively consistent views, the young Emperor Liu Wenpeng could not help but begin to have second thoughts. Of course, if Liu Wenpeng's willfulness flared up, these people could not talk him out of it either.

What truly stopped Liu Wenpeng from "taking off" were the two great mountains of Shizu and Taizong. The power of ancestral laws in the current age was hard for those who did not understand their logic to comprehend. Those articles and regulations imbued with Shizu's will were a constraint on everyone, including the Emperor.

This was also the most effective restriction that the empire's various ruling classes held over the Emperor. From top to bottom, how could they not raise high this great banner and defend it with all their might?

And Liu Wenpeng, after all, had caught the tail end of Shizu's later years. Though brief, he had truly and closely witnessed how majestic—or rather, terrifying—Shizu was in the twilight of his reign, and he had grown up from childhood in the "shadow" of Taizong.

Perhaps toward heaven, earth, teachers, and elders, Liu Wenpeng did not hold such reverence—but toward the two preceding emperors alone, he always harbored a heart of awe.

Since he could not change the institutions, in the end he still had to follow the rules. Even a single Censor-in-Chief could stir the entire court into motion and set every faction fighting—let alone the position of Director of State Affairs, the empire's Chief Chancellor.

Within the court, the struggle was even more bloody, with basically every major faction entering the fray. Many people Liu Wenpeng barely even remembered were recommended before him—for instance, Hedong Fiscal Commissioner Chai Zonghui, the youngest son of Duke of Ying, Guo Rong; Guannei Circuit Administration Commissioner Gao Chu-rang, the third son of Duke of Anguo, Gao Huaide; Southwest Patrol Inspector Zhao Yu, the second son of the late Duke of Shaan, Zhao Yanjin—all of them without exception descendants of founding meritorious officials and honored nobles.

It was worth noting that a trend had already emerged in the inheritance of the Great Han Empire's nobles and honored ministers. Among the second-generation inheritors, there were still a number of outstanding talents who could hold important posts in the court, enjoy real power, and continue to consolidate and extend the achievements and influence founded by their fathers.

Figures of this kind could be said to be found in abundance over the past few decades, and many of them indeed became the pillars of the empire—including Zhao Kuangyi and numerous other chancellors and ministers, generals and frontier commanders. But by the third generation, the situation gradually began to change. Those who inherited the titles basically held only nominal posts in the court without real power, while those who represented their families in official service, continuing to maintain and elevate authority and influence, were the other sons who had no inheritance rights.

This trend had already shown itself in the late Kaibao period under Shizu, and by the Taizong era it had become quite common. It was not impossible that the two preceding emperors had a hand in promoting this—while preserving the hereditary blessings of the noble descendants, they also created a certain division within each major clan.

This measure greatly guaranteed the fundamental interests of the various noble families, and also enabled the nobles to always occupy a relatively heavy share of interest in the empire's political ecology. Even with the various policies of management, restraint, and restriction under both Shizu and Taizong, their influence on the empire in fact did not decrease but increased.

By Liu Wenpeng's Pingkang era, the nobles not only maintained an almost absolute say within the military system, but also advanced aggressively in the civil official system, seizing numerous key positions. Faced with these "candidates" for Director of State Affairs suddenly popping up one after another, Liu Wenpeng found himself momentarily at a loss.

As for within the court, over the position of Director of State Affairs, everyone was employing their own methods. The situation was so complex that even the Hall of State Affairs could not organize a court deliberation to select a candidate—because Fiscal Commissioner Li Hang, Minister of Personnel Liu Jichang, and Minister of War Xiang Deming were all strong contenders for the position, and each was nominated by the political faction they represented.

Even the Imperial Son-in-law and Chief Commander Yang Yanzhao was put forward by some people, but Yang Yanzhao very decisively refused, and even actively suppressed the voices of those "enthusiasts."

And numerous previous cases had proven that when faced with such complex and tangled situations, Liu Wenpeng lacked both the ability to control and the ability to handle them.

Thus, the exasperated Liu Wenpeng made a decision full of his personal character—one that upon closer thought was not surprising at all. On the twenty-sixth day of the ninth month of autumn in the fourth year of Pingkang, he issued an edict appointing Grand Academician of the Inner Cabinet, Wang Dan, as Director of State Affairs, to take charge of state affairs.

In fact, of the candidates nominated by the ministers inside and outside the court, from Liu Wenpeng's perspective, he would not accept a single one. First to be excluded were the two military-political systems of the Bureau of Military Affairs and the Ministry of War—in peaceful times, it was impossible for the heads of those two offices to become "Chief Chancellor."

Next was Li Hang. He was both a three-dynasty old minister and an auxiliary minister appointed by Taizong's deathbed edict. Liu Wenpeng had finally managed to outlast the two mountains of Liu Ai and Zhang Qixian—how could he create trouble for himself again? The fact that he hadn't driven Li Hang out of the court along with them was already him exercising restraint.

And Minister of Personnel Liu Jichang was the same story—after all, he was the son of the late Duke of Xu, Liu Chengyun, of the imperial clan. By seniority, Liu Wenpeng had to call him Imperial Uncle. He had spent so much effort and breath to drive Liu Ai off to the southern sea fief—how could he possibly lift Liu Jichang up again?

As for the considerations regarding the others, they were even simpler—he wasn't familiar with them.

After thinking it over and over, only Wang Dan was suitable. First, he was a three-dynasty old minister, just past fifty, with sufficient age, seniority, ability, and reputation. Second, he could also be considered a descendant of the honored nobles—after all, his father Wang You had been one of the "Twenty-Four Ministers of Kaibao." Even if that list was somewhat inflated, it was still the most elite group of talents in the vast empire over thirty years.

Third, and most importantly, when Emperor Taizong had established the Crown Prince back then, he had actually found three teachers for Liu Wenpeng. Grand Tutor of the Crown Prince, Prince of Zhao Liu Fang, was advanced in years and had been compelled to voluntarily go to Mang Mountain to build a hut and guard the imperial tombs; Junior Preceptor of the Crown Prince Wang Yucheng had already passed away, and Liu Wenpeng still bore the reputation of being heartless and unjust toward his teacher; the remaining one was Guest of the Crown Prince, Wang Dan.

With so many suitable points, it was no wonder Liu Wenpeng chose Wang Dan. And the reason for promoting him to Director of State Affairs was ready-made—the Veritable Records of Taizong, which he had supervised, had finally been completed. This was a great project and also a great merit.

Besides Wang Dan, Liu Wenpeng also transferred Huguang Patrol Inspector Murong Dechen up to the central government to serve as Left Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs and be made chancellor. This move naturally won the favor of Empress Dowager Murong, and the mother-son relationship returned to its former harmony. In fact, ever since Liu Wenpeng had driven Prince of Lu, Liu Ai, out of the central government, the two of them had already begun to reconcile.

By the winter of the fourth year of Pingkang, the Great Han Empire's new core leadership team had taken shape: Director of State Affairs Wang Dan, Fiscal Commissioner Li Hang, Minister of Personnel Liu Jichang, Censor-in-Chief Xiang Minzhong, Commissioner of Military Affairs Li Jilong, Minister of War Xiang Deming, Left Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs Murong Dechen, Right Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs Kou Zhun, Minister of Justice Xu Shilian, and the newly promoted Vice Director of the Secretariat Wang Qimruo.

Compared to the early years of Pingkang, the landscape could be said to have undergone earth-shaking changes—at least, those figures who could barely overawe the ministers and lead the overall situation (Prince of Zhao Liu Fang, Prince of Lu Liu Ai, Director of State Affairs Zhang Qixian) no longer existed.

The imperial center had also initially formed a collective leadership with Emperor Liu Wenpeng at its core, and the Great Han Empire began to enter an era of co-governance—and this so-called "era of co-governance" was personally inaugurated by Emperor Liu Wenpeng himself.

The young Emperor Liu Wenpeng, newly in control of great power, put on a surprisingly diligent performance—personally attending to affairs, personally managing state governance, organizing meetings, receiving ministers, personally reviewing memorials, handling matters of military and national importance, and thoroughly experiencing the glory and toil of directing the realm and managing a myriad of affairs.

During this process, some matters Liu Wenpeng handled quite well. When Minister of Rites Chen Zhi and Pacification Commissioner Wen Zhongshu passed away, he issued edicts of condolence; when Deputy Chief Commander of the Yulin Circuit Chen Xing allowed his troops to plunder Han and barbarian subjects under his jurisdiction, he had him executed to uphold national law; and for the famine-stricken prefectures and counties in Guannei, he issued edicts for disaster relief, showing compassion for the suffering, and exempting taxes.

To be fair, over this period of time, Liu Wenpeng's performance was passable—he had shed much of his impetuosity and willfulness. Though it might not have been enough to win over the hearts of all his ministers, at least it made many people view him in a better light.

The Emperor had grown older, taken personal control of the government, and matured in his conduct—so the many behaviors before his personal rule that had not sat well with people now seemed understandable and worthy of forgiveness. Toward the Emperor, those above and below always gave more leniency.

It could be said that from the autumn and winter of the fourth year of Pingkang to the summer of the fifth year, this period of over half a year was the most stable period for the upper echelons of the Great Han Empire since entering the Pingkang era.

However, that period of time was all too brief—so brief that people almost thought it was an illusion. The reason, of course, lay with Emperor Liu Wenpeng himself: he grew negligent in governance.

Liu Wenpeng ultimately discovered that the days after working hard to drive away his imperial uncles, topple the auxiliary ministers, and seize great power were, for him, actually worse than before.

Being a wise ruler was not easy, and being a diligent wise ruler was even more exhausting. Liu Wenpeng's "career as a wise ruler" in fact lasted less than half a year before he grew weary of the overwhelming, endless flood of court affairs.

And compared to facing those "trivial trifles" all day, Liu Wenpeng much preferred horseback riding, hunting, playing chess, and even singing and dancing. Even idling away with the harem consorts was far, far, far more interesting than staying in Chuigong Hall, facing those stale old pedants, watching them argue over state affairs, listening to them nag repeatedly, and handling one mundane matter after another that could never all be finished.

Thus, gradually Liu Wenpeng relaxed his efforts. He often showed signs of boredom and fatigue during court meetings or ruler-minister audiences. Later, he simply "returned" state affairs to the Hall of State Affairs, letting Wang Dan and the others handle them as they saw fit. Only matters that could not reach a resolution, as well as those of vital importance involving the military or important appointments, sacrifices, and military campaigns, required his approval.

At other times, the chancellors could make joint decisions. Of course, Liu Wenpeng would also occasionally check in to show his presence. But even this, as time passed, he gradually gave up.

Because he discovered that the many chancellors had no intention of "dealing with" him, and that they were full of contradictions among themselves, fighting merrily—often requiring him to act as arbiter—and posed no threat to his throne. At the same time, with the Palace City and Wude offices in place, he could grasp the situation at court at any time. His position as Emperor was as stable as Mount Tai.

And having shed the heavy burden of state affairs, Liu Wenpeng finally had time to do what he truly enjoyed—such as hunting four times a year, playing "human chess" with national chess masters like Jia Xuan, playing war games in the palace, holding various "party till dawn" soirées, and wandering the streets of the Western Capital in search of novelty.