Chapter 2128: Kangzong Chronicles 14: A Minister Also Chooses His Lord; Between Brothers

In the high autumn of the eighth month, on the Qiantang River, under the gaze of ten thousand onlookers, a white line flashed into view—that was the surging tidehead, accompanied by a thunderous roar, coming from far to near, galloping onward. The tidal peak rose in an instant, forming a water wall over a zhang high, flecked with white foam, carrying overwhelming momentum as it swept horizontally against the embankment.

The greatest tide under heaven, a natural wonder, displayed itself fully before the spectators in that moment—inspiring both awe and reverence.

The startling waves crashed against the shore, spray bursting forth. The tens of thousands of tide-watchers on the riverbank scattered in defeat like routed soldiers. "One wave breaks ten thousand troops"—this was exactly that sight.

Over the decades, watching the Qiantang tide had become a craze. Not only in Hangzhou itself, but throughout the entire southeast—the Su, Zhe, Min, and Gan regions—and even idle rich scions and literary men from farther prefectures came upon hearing of it. Many foreign sea merchants traveling through the southeast would also come to see it whenever they had leisure.

Around the Mid-Autumn Festival, Hangzhou was especially lively, and the Qiantang tide had become the most important city card of this premier commercial hub of the southeast. At least in the current Great Han Empire, it was far more famous than West Lake.

And this year was especially lively, the most special aspect being that the Emperor was on a southern tour, with his imperial carriage arriving here. Emperor Liu Wenpeng's journey this time was the first true long-distance travel since he ascended the throne. In the end, in the "north-south dispute," he chose to go south—a tendency brought about by the tour ten years prior.

Back then, because of the "upheaval" at the Prince Ruyang's manor, he had been urgently recalled to the capital, established as Crown Prince, and then "locked" in the capital region and its surroundings for ten years.

Starting in late summer, departing from Luoyang, judging solely from the field headquarters' situation, Liu Wenpeng's tour could be considered "lightly equipped." Apart from two thousand Inner Palace silver-armored guards accompanying him, there were only a group of palace eunuchs, palace attendants, a few palace maids, and just over twenty court officials. Among the chancellors, only Vice Director of the Secretariat Wang Qinruo was present. The entire field headquarters numbered fewer than three thousand.

Though the scale was not large, with mules, horses, and carts, mobility was high, convenient for the Emperor to travel at his leisure. Apart from the capital region, the Emperor was like a dragon freed from the shallows, freely inspecting his domain, enjoying himself to the fullest. While satisfying his private desires, he also stirred up a trail of dust and filth.

And the greatest difference from his grandfather and father was that he did not, as was customary, issue edicts to the localities forbidding welcome offerings and tributes—he did not even put up a symbolic show of it. Therefore, one can imagine what a chaotic scene unfolded along Liu Wenpeng's tour route. To welcome the imperial carriage, officials everywhere naturally began to "exert themselves" again.

From government offices to the common folk, it could be called "a dance of demons." Wherever the imperial carriage stopped, the local preparations at least had some portion devoted to serving the Emperor. As for places the Emperor deigned not to visit, the things the local governments prepared naturally benefited the officials themselves. Taken from the people, if not usable for the sovereign, then basically used by the ruling class—this was the true picture.

And those who went too far were some unscrupulous officials of the Huaixi Circuit. Because the Emperor's tour route had nothing to do with Huaixi, yet still a considerable number of prefectures and counties "actively prepared" to welcome the imperial carriage.

What if His Majesty the Emperor had a sudden thought and changed his route? This was a golden opportunity to display Huaixi's appearance and the loyalty of its officials and people! And the situation of "officials and gentry fully repaid, commoners split thirty-seventy" had become the most common phenomenon in the welcome preparations of many Huaixi prefectures and counties.

Compared to ten years ago, this time Liu Wenpeng was far more unrestrained. After all, last time there was his imperial uncle Liu Fang watching over him, and many things could not be enjoyed to the fullest.

Traveling south all the way, joyful all the way, on the tenth day of the eighth month, the imperial carriage arrived in Hangzhou, receiving an extremely enthusiastic welcome from the officials and people of Liangzhe. Of course, compared to the heartfelt reverence and worship of officials and people when Shizu and Taizong visited Hangzhou in their day, in the autumn of the sixth year of Pingkang, amidst the warm and intimate atmosphere of ten thousand people following and spectators packed like walls, the emotions rippling through were somewhat lacking in authenticity.

Behind it all was the maneuvering of the Liangzhe Circuit Administration Commissioner Chen Yaozuo and the officials of the Liangzhe Circuit's prefectures and offices. To welcome the carriage, to make the Emperor feel at home, Chen Yaozuo and other magnates racked their brains and exhausted their wits, presenting before the Emperor the most dazzling and beautiful things of the Liangzhe Circuit.

Whether in the capital region of Henan, or in Jianghuai, all the way to Hangzhou, what Liu Wenpeng witnessed was the prosperous, thriving, peaceful scene under his own rule. For this, he even developed a feeling of self-satisfaction.

On the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, at the Liangzhe Circuit office (originally the Wuyue king's palace, remodeled after demotion), a grand "Mid-Autumn Moon-Viewing Celebration" was held. The magnates of Liangzhe presented the Emperor with local delicacies, fine brews, beautiful scenery, lovely ladies, song, dance, and music—everything in full.

That night, Hangzhou city blazed with lights, fireworks sparkled brilliantly, scenes of song and dance flourished, and sounds of laughter and joy continued until late into the night.

And as for the arrangements of the Liangzhe Circuit office, Emperor Liu Wenpeng was extremely satisfied, lavishly praising Administration Commissioner Chen Yaozuo as a loyal minister.

Chen Yaozuo came from a family of officials. His father, Chen Shenghua, had been the former Administration Commissioner of the Jiangnan Circuit. This family, which had risen from the southwest to the center of the empire's political stage, was already a famous political clan of the current Great Han.

Chen Yaozuo was already the chief official of Liangzhe, a circuit of gathered wealth and abundant fish and rice. His elder brother, Chen Yaosou, served at the center as Minister of Works. His younger brother, Chen Yaozhi, was the top scholar (zhuangyuan) of the Yongxi era and now held the post of drafter of edicts.

The Chen family—father and three sons—each was an outstanding figure. Even setting aside the old father who had passed away several years ago, these three brothers alone were enough to prop up a small patch of sky on the Great Han's political map.

And Chen Yaozuo's fawning on the Emperor was clearly not the conduct of a pure minister with a loyal heart—it carried a certain flavor of flattery and sycophancy. But there was no help for it. He represented not only himself, but also the Chen clan and the political forces attached to them.

For the Chen family, whose foundation was not deep and which was far from being bound to the fate of the state, the Emperor—especially a willful Emperor—was someone they absolutely could not afford to offend. Otherwise, with a single edict, two generations and decades of struggle and management could go down the drain.

Of course, to have climbed all the way to the position of Administration Commissioner of the Liangzhe Circuit, besides the political resources bequeathed by his father, he himself possessed sufficient capability.

After all, the ruling class of the current Great Han Empire, though it had this or that flaw, was at least at the upper levels filled with people as fierce as wolves and tigers. Without deep background, thick connections, and solid ability, it was absolutely impossible to reach the position of a circuit's chief official. After all, the higher one climbs, the narrower the space—this was an unshakable truth.

At the same time, precisely because he had climbed to such a position, standing at sufficient height and appreciating a different view, Chen Yaozuo could feel the squeezing from the old-established magnate forces, as well as the countless rising officials who wanted to pull them down and take their place.

At the very least, the three Chen brothers, each holding key positions, were simply too conspicuous. And in such a situation, their options were few. They could not pledge themselves to any one faction of magnate power—that would inevitably invite attack from all sides. The only and reliable way out lay with the Emperor.

Unfortunately, the current Emperor was not so reliable either. Therefore, after confirming the news that the Emperor would tour Hangzhou, Chen Yaozuo went through a complex mental struggle before finally deciding to do his best to cater to the Emperor's preferences and needs, making him feel at home. As for anything more—that was entirely unnecessary.

Clearly, in the eyes of magnates at Chen Yaozuo's level, the current Son of Heaven was not someone to be approached closely! During his tenure in Liangzhe, besides fully promoting agriculture and sericulture, developing the economy and education, his greatest contribution was a comprehensive upgrade and reconstruction of the Qiantang seawall.

The foundation of the current Qiantang seawall was laid a century ago by the Wuyue king Qian Liu, whose outstanding contribution was the sea-defense stone embankment. Over the past hundred years, successive governments had made many repairs to the riverbank embankment in response to the Qiantang tidal bore, but these were patchwork fixes, not a systematic solution.

Chen Yaozuo came from a family with deep learning, and he had considerable attainments in water conservancy. The newly renovated Qiantang seawall was his most brilliant achievement in hydraulic engineering, and in the construction, he had innovatively proposed a method called "sinking brushwood to solidify the earth."

As for Chen Yaozuo's reports and the benefits of the Qiantang embankment construction for the people of Zhe, Liu Wenpeng could hardly muster any interest. But the Qiantang tide, famous throughout the southeast, he was extremely eager to see—especially with the eighteenth of the eighth month approaching, the best time for tide-watching. Hence came this imperial outing to view the tide.

On Phoenix Mountain, the rustling autumn wind rolled with the dampness of the sea, blowing Liu Wenpeng's face into a grimace. And the great tide, wave after wave, with its overwhelming, heaven-startling force, left him momentarily speechless.

At least, after witnessing firsthand the power of nature, Liu Wenpeng abandoned any notion of personally taking a boat out to sea. The rolling of the waves was so terrifying—if encountered at sea, it would be far too dangerous. When it came to things and risks beyond his control, Liu Wenpeng displayed exceptional caution, and any curiosity-seeking impulse could be dispelled.

And compared to the sea tide, magnificent yet concealing deadly danger, there was another person who also made Liu Wenpeng maintain a cautious attitude—namely the Prince of Linzi, Liu Wenji, who stood respectfully at his side at this moment, wrapped in a thick padded jacket, his face bearing a sickly look.

"Second Brother, they say the waters and soil of Jiangnan nourish people. You've been in the southeast for so many years—how is it your illness has only grown worse instead of better?" Liu Wenpeng said with a hint of puzzlement.

Upon the question, not a ripple of emotion showed in Liu Wenji's eyes. He coughed heavily, covering his mouth and nose with a silk handkerchief, and said weakly: "Illnesses may manifest externally, but some arise internally. Your subject belongs to the latter category—it has nothing to do with the environment."

As he spoke, he put away the handkerchief, raised his eyes to look at the still-surging Qiantang tide in the distance, his face pale, and remarked in a low, somber tone: "Your subject's years grow long, and my chronic ailment deepens. I wonder how many more times I may behold such majestic rivers and seas."

Hearing Liu Wenji say this, Liu Wenpeng showed immediate surprise, carefully examining him twice. Whether in complexion, speech, or bearing, he did not seem to be in good condition.

His eyes rolling slightly, Liu Wenpeng said: "Second Brother, what kind of discouraging words are these? Once you nurse your health back, this tide-viewing splendor will be yours to enjoy at will.

To treat an illness, one must prescribe the right medicine. In my view, Second Brother has likely been misled by mediocre physicians. Very well, I shall send you an imperial physician to take a look."

Able to feel Liu Wenpeng's gaze, Liu Wenji's face still showed little expression. He coughed twice more before saying: "Thank you for Your Majesty's grace! The imperial physicians of the palace are all masters of their craft. If one could diagnose your subject, nothing could be better!"

Seeing that Liu Wenji did not refuse, Liu Wenpeng withdrew his gaze, tilted his head slightly upward, and stood facing the wind. Seeming to recall something, he said leisurely: "Earlier, some in the court proposed letting Second Brother proceed to your fief. It seems this matter will have to be delayed for a while!"

Liu Wenji's heart finally trembled. Had it not been for his extremely strong self-control, he might have clenched his fists. But his face remained as calm as an ancient well as he steadily replied: "It is all this worthless body of mine's fault. Your subject has already thought it through—if it can be cured, then I shall go to sea and take up my fief; if it is difficult to cure, I shall be buried in the southeast. I beg Your Majesty to grant this. As for the fief, let later generations manage it."

"Later generations..." Liu Wenpeng murmured involuntarily, a feeling of heartache spreading through him. He thought of his prematurely deceased Crown Prince.

His attention shifting, Liu Wenpeng asked: "How many imperial nephews and nieces do I have now?"

Liu Wenji said softly: "To answer Your Majesty, those of age number four sons and two daughters."

Upon hearing this, a sudden thought arose in Liu Wenpeng's mind. He turned his head to look at Liu Wenji, but seeing that Second Brother still wore that "misfortune written on his brow" look, he ultimately did not speak.

He was still young; there was no need to rush to take that inferior course.

As if forgetting that Liu Wenji's illness meant he could not be exposed to wind for long, Liu Wenpeng insisted on staying on Phoenix Mountain for over an hour—and ended up catching a cold himself. The southern wind, though not as harsh as the north's, would surely retaliate if one dared to underestimate it!

That very night, the imperial physician Zhu Hong, upon imperial order, went to diagnose the Prince of Linzi, Liu Wenji. Whatever process he went through, in any case, when Zhu Hong reported back to Liu Wenpeng, the answer he received was much the same as what had been probed before.

Moreover, Zhu Hong secretly revealed to the Emperor that the Prince of Linzi's illness had penetrated to the bone marrow, was difficult to cure at the root, and extremely prone to relapse. If carefully nurtured and spared excessive exertion, he might extend his life by a few years; otherwise, his condition was hard to predict.

Hearing such an answer, Liu Wenpeng repeatedly confirmed with Zhu Hong, even asking about details. After receiving affirmative answers, his expression became quite interesting.

The very next day, Liu Wenpeng issued an edict, promoting the Prince of Linzi, Liu Wenji, to Prince of Jing, appointing him as the Governor of Huguang, to patrol on behalf of the Son of Heaven, traveling to the two Hu regions to inspect official governance and pacify the people and the barbarians.

For Liu Wenpeng, regardless of Liu Wenji's illness, at the very least Second Brother could no longer remain in the prosperous southeast. At the same time, he summoned close ministers including Wang Qinruo to discuss how to reshuffle the southeastern officialdom—its purpose still being aimed at Liu Wenji's power base.