Chapter 2135: Shizong Chronicles 3: A Difference in Temperament

From the moment the new emperor ascended the throne, the era of Kangzong Liu Wenpeng of the Great Han Empire was thoroughly over. Among all the Great Han emperors including Liu Wenji, none could match Liu Wenpeng in smoothness of succession, stability of the state, and superiority of circumstances.

Yet, after eight years, the empire of today had undergone great changes compared to the early Pingkang years, and the situation was not so favorable.

Imperial power was weak, court politics unstable, governance far from clean and transparent, contradictions among the powerful and noble were layered upon each other, official discipline ran wild like a horse freed from its reins, redundant officials and superfluous posts abounded, extravagance and competitive ostentation revived once more, and the various rules and fine traditions of the Taizong era were shattered.

The only thing perhaps worthy of praise was that the civilian economy still retained great vitality and achieved further development—but the widening gap between rich and poor followed close behind, and the rampant influence of local clan magnates and gentry landlords began to resurface.

And from the Yongxi golden age to the Pingkang "moderate prosperity," Kangzong Liu Wenpeng clearly bore an inescapable responsibility—after all, he was not a truly young emperor; he possessed sufficient capacity to govern on his own.

Yet, from Kangzong's own standpoint of self-reflection, there seemed to be some places worthy of "understanding." To be fair, Kangzong may not have been brilliant, but he was clever enough; he was absurd and willful, but not cruel; he delighted in pleasure and neglected governance, self-satisfied and self-important, acting on whim, turning state instruments to private use, viewing the realm as his personal property—but the harm he did to the nation perhaps still did not match the negative effects of the ambition for achievement shown by many "capable" enlightened monarchs in the historical records.

Throughout the Kangzong era, although many meritorious elder ministers were pushed aside and many loyal and upright men were demoted and exiled, he never arbitrarily executed a high minister. He may not have treated those meritorious elders fairly or justly, but for most people, he still granted a basic measure of dignity.

In the final analysis, setting aside his identity as emperor, Kangzong was only an ordinary person placed in a position that did not suit him. Arrogant, vain, without ambition—his ancestors had handed him a vast inheritance that could be called the greatest in history: the wealth of the realm, hundreds of millions of subjects, all at his disposal. In a world at peace, with no great ambitions to pursue, what else was he supposed to do but enjoy, squander, and indulge?

To demand of Kangzong the standards of Shizu and Taizong would be asking too much of him. He was a mortal man with mortal greed and selfish desires, and his actions fully conformed to the conduct and standards of most feudal autocratic monarchs.

In fact, right up until his death, Kangzong had to thank the two emperors Shizu and Taizong—especially Emperor Taizong. Had the empire's foundation they left behind not been thick enough to withstand his squandering, perhaps even the temple name "Kang" would not have fallen to him.

Had this been a different historical period, with the same conduct, temple names like "Xi," "Xi," "Min," or "Zhi" would likely have been assigned to him instead.

Regarding Kangzong's temple name and posthumous title, the court had held considerable discussion and expended no small amount of mental effort. A derogatory posthumous title was out of the question—otherwise, how would the dukes and ministers of the Pingkang era face themselves, and how would they answer to the realm? Nor could an excessively flattering posthumous title be given against one's conscience. In the end, they granted the unconventional superior designation "Kang," and the posthumous title proper was also much "shorter"—Rui Ming Wu Min Xiao Emperor. There was simply no more gold left to apply to his face.

Of course, from the standpoint of the new sovereign Liu Wenji, he might have preferred a lesser posthumous title for Kangzong, but in the end, he accepted the ministers' recommendation. From the era name to the late emperor's posthumous title, Liu Wenji was consistently receptive to remonstrance—this was also the keynote of Liu Wenji's governance during the Duangong era.

Kangzong was after all gone, and what he left to Liu Wenji, who had just ascended the throne, was an extremely complex and troublesome situation. The Great Han Empire had clearly fallen ill once again, and this time, it would require Liu Wenji, this "physician," to diagnose and treat it.

But before that, what he truly needed to do was consolidate his imperial throne—that was the foundation of all action. On this point, even without the reminder of Consort Dowager Xiao, he had already given it ample thought and understanding.

The problems were serious, the challenges formidable—yet for Liu Wenji, nothing could be harder than the more than a decade of disappointment and even despair he had endured and suffered through, nor harder than the years of lying ill in bed, biding his time and watching from the shadows.

When Liu Wenji mounted the imperial throne, settled upon the dragon couch, and calmly received the homage of dukes and ministers and envoys of all states, he knew that the most difficult moment had already passed. "The supremacy of the emperor" was his greatest source of confidence and self-assurance.

Liu Wenji was no callow Liu Wenpeng. Having been steeped in the influence of Shizu and Taizong from childhood, and having struggled and climbed within the imperial system for over twenty years, the trials and tempering he had undergone filled him with wisdom from thought to vision. He could see the empire's people, affairs, and institutions far more clearly and deeply than Liu Wenpeng ever could, and when he sat upon the emperor's throne, he understood better how to exercise its functions.

At the start of his succession, layers of pressure and all manner of troubles came at Liu Wenji without cease. Even though he had already shown himself sufficiently affable and harmless, people still kept coming to test him.

But no matter how many troubles there were, in the end they were problems of people. By grasping the shifts in court sentiment and managing interpersonal relations with the powerful and noble, even if he accomplished nothing for the time being, Liu Wenji could at least remain as steady as Mount Tai.

In matters of personnel in the new court, Liu Wenji intervened little. Especially within the Hall of State Affairs at Guangzheng Hall, which represented the center of imperial power, he basically maintained the configuration from the late Kangzong period.

This structure naturally allowed the aristocracy to grow powerful, but for Liu Wenji, who had not yet found his footing, it had one advantage: at least he obtained the support of Kou Zhun, Xu Shilian, Xiang Minzhong, and Wang Qinruo from the very start—and these four were already the representatives of the empire's vast commoner-official class at the central government, a far cry from the old days.

One must remember that when the commoner officials' power was at its height, at least at the central level, they had overshadowed the meritorious aristocratic officials. Of course, this must be viewed dialectically, after excluding the emperor's influence. And the entire development of the Kangzong era seemed to illustrate one thing: in the current Great Han Empire, in the final analysis, it was the meritorious aristocrats who had the final say.

As for Director of State Affairs Wang Dan, his downfall was inevitable. On the one hand, he could not command the room; on the other, someone had to pay for the twists and turns in Liu Wenji's succession. As "Chief Chancellor," once he had sided with Empress Dowager Murong, if he did not succeed, the only way was down.

However, Liu Wenji, mindful of his status as a veteran minister of three reigns and his past contributions, granted him a measure of dignity by appointing him as Director of the Imperial Mausoleum, overseeing the construction of Kangzong's tomb and the subsequent state funeral ceremonies.

It should be mentioned here that only after Prince Zhao emerged from retirement to strongly support the succession of the eldest, and the court reached consensus on Liu Wenji's accession, did they proceed with Kangzong's funeral arrangements. Liu Wenji's enthronement also followed the principle of "counting days as months" after the national mourning period had ended.

However, Kangzong had not built his mausoleum during his lifetime, so his "resting place" was still under urgent construction. A considerable time remained before the grand burial, and during this period, the imperial coffin had to remain in Chuigong Hall.

To show respect, after ascending the throne, Liu Wenji chose as his residence for handling state affairs the Wansui Hall, where Shizu had spent his later years. And so, the Duangong Emperor did not reside in Chuigong Hall.

The powerful and noble observed Liu Wenji's arrangement for Wang Dan and were mostly satisfied. At the very least, this cautious, tolerant posture deserved praise. Compared to Kangzong's absurdity and unpredictability, the newly enthroned Liu Wenji was far more comfortable to deal with. Wang Dan's dismissal as chancellor was perhaps the "Chief Chancellor's resignation" with the least impact on the court situation. And compared to the impact of this matter itself, the position of Director of State Affairs was even more anticipated. By the first year of Duangong, the status and authority of the Director of State Affairs as Chief Chancellor of the Great Han Empire had been thoroughly consolidated—this was the leader of all officials who assisted the Son of Heaven in wielding court authority and governing the nation.

And at the very beginning of Liu Wenji's era, this position could not be secured by imperial support alone. For the successor to the Directorship of State Affairs, Liu Wenji first invited Prince Zhao Liu Fang, who had vigorously supported him, to take the post.

The result did not surprise him. Liu Fang refused outright, without any hint of fearing the emperor's suspicion. He merely calmly gave Liu Wenji a few words of instruction—to conduct himself well and treat his subjects with kindness.

Liu Fang had already gained a profound understanding of Liu Wenji's character, capacity, and ability during the southern inspection tour years ago, and he still remembered it vividly. Among all those inside and outside the court who observed the new emperor Liu Wenji, only a few could see clearly—and Prince Zhao Liu Fang was clearly one of them.

Facing Prince Zhao's candid words, Liu Wenji was as if relieved of a great burden. He bowed to him in salute—a full ninety-degree bow.

At the same time, to express his gratitude, Liu Wenji later posthumously elevated Consort Dowager Zhe to Empress, with the posthumous title Empress Xiaocheng. Back then, Prince Lu had been expelled from court for this very matter, and the court had been rife with debate. But when Liu Wenji did it, it was as simple as drinking water—the entire court only approved, with virtually no opposition.

This move, without question, won Liu Wenji the recognition and support of the dozens of descendants born of Empress Zhe.

Another great contributor, Yang Ye, was not neglected by Liu Wenji either. Of course, asking the retired, over-eighty-year-old Grand Preceptor Yang to come out of retirement and serve as chancellor was hardly realistic, so Liu Wenji invited Yang Yanzhao to be chancellor, even offering the justification of "leaving the ranks of generals to enter the ranks of ministers." The result was the same—Yang Yanzhao refused, asking the emperor to seek another worthy candidate.

Because of Empress Yang's connection, the Yang clan's position at court was somewhat sensitive. Had it not been for old Yang Ye's utter loyalty to the late emperor and the empire, he would never have spoken rashly.

After that, Emperor Liu Wenji continued to display his "receptiveness to remonstrance," adopting the ministers' recommendation that Fiscal Commissioner Xiang Deming succeed as Director of State Affairs and preside over the operation of the court. This matter first provoked the displeasure of Minister of Personnel Liu Jichang (son of Xu Wang Liu Chengyun). This old clansman minister, as he grew ever more advanced in years, grew ever more eager to reach the summit.

Back then, the Ministry of Personnel had been taken from him by Lü Mengzheng; now, with the Directorship of State Affairs within reach, it had been taken again by Xiang Deming. Naturally, he was unwilling to accept it. And so, the central government in the Duangong era unfolded as a contest of strength between the Director of State Affairs and the Minister of Personnel.

In this regard, Xiang Deming, whose birth, seniority, merit, and ability were all more than sufficient, was not the least bit intimidated by Liu Jichang. And Emperor Liu Wenji, at the side, silently observed and waited—waited for an opportunity to clear out these old aristocrats. Of course, even if he simply outlasted them, they were all past sixty—how many years could they have left?

Of course, compared to those seemingly momentous personnel changes at court, Liu Wenji truly intervened in or cared about only a few positions—and he accomplished all of them.

First, he appointed Guannei Chief Commander Zhe Weichang as Chief Commander of the Patrol Inspection Bureau. Zhe Weichang was the great-grandson of Duke of Dai Zhe Congruan and the younger brother of the late Commandery Duke of Daijun, Zhe Weizheng.

He also appointed Xiao Hui as Deputy Chief Commander of the Inner Palace Army, primarily responsible for the various guard units before the imperial presence. At the same time, Cao Liyong was transferred into the central government, serving as Grand Secretariat Academician and concurrently Drafter of Edicts.

Of course, Xiao Gong was not forgotten. Liu Wenji appointed him as Director of the Palace Treasury. The previous Director of the Palace Treasury, Liu Gui, had died suddenly in the spring of the ninth year of Pingkang, during a late cold snap. He had shown no illness or ailment before his death—one could say he passed away peacefully of natural causes.

Although he was a eunuch, he had served three generations of sovereigns with distinctly different styles, and to hold the position of Director of the Palace Treasury—the empire's vast imperial property institution—for over thirty years as a eunuch was enough to earn him a place in the historical records.

At the same time, although Liu Gui himself was dead, the complete set of operational, financial, and personnel management systems he had built and perfected during his many years at the Palace Treasury remained entirely intact. Doing things is easy; establishing rules is hard. That was Liu Gui's greatest strength, and the fundamental reason he could serve in the Palace Treasury for over thirty years. Merely pleasing the emperor would never have been enough.

Of course, the intelligence agencies vital to imperial power were also brought under Liu Wenji's control within an extremely short time. In the Xiao Division, Zheng Yuan, true to his word, requested retirement on his own initiative after Liu Wenji ascended the throne, asking to return to his hometown to live out his years. Liu Wenji agreed, and besides granting him large quantities of gold, silver, and valuables, also bestowed upon him a third-rank civilian honorary rank and gold-and-purple ceremonial attire—a generous favor—allowing him to return home in glory, to enjoy his old age and pass on his legacy.

The once-notorious Commissioner of the Palace City Wang Yue paid the price for his earlier vacillation and fence-sitting. Of course, mindful of his decades of diligent service to two preceding emperors, Liu Wenji did not have him killed, but instead exiled him to the South Seas, allowing him to take his property, attendants, concubines, and even children (eunuchs were not entirely cut off from women and offspring), far from the continent, never to return to court. Though Wang Yue was unwilling at heart, in the end he kowtowed and thanked the emperor for his grace.

By comparison, Lin Te, who had been watching from the sidelines all along, was retained—though not in the position of Commissioner of the Wude Office. After holding a conversation with him and carefully examining the man, Liu Wenji appointed him as Fiscal Commissioner of the Southeast. For Lin Te, this was a momentous appointment, and he was profusely grateful, kneeling before Liu Wenji on the spot and pledging his utmost loyalty.

The last person to receive such treatment had been Wang Xuanzhen, and Wang Xuanzhen's subsequent fortunes remained the model in the minds of everyone in the intelligence system to this day—he even became chancellor, even became a regent minister. Even if he was later pushed aside, that was the pinnacle a minister of special origin could reach (Duke of Shou Li Shaoyou, though responsible for the actual establishment of the Wude Office, could not be viewed simply as an intelligence minister).

At the start of his reign, Liu Wenji's series of maneuvers—whether courting reputation or pursuing practical benefit—all had the same starting point: to build a moat to consolidate his imperial throne. And it was very successful.

By the summer of the sixth month of the first year of Duangong, Liu Wenji had thoroughly secured his throne. And in those few months, although he had spoken little at court, no one within the court dared to belittle or ignore the emperor's opinions as they had in the early Kangzong period. This seemed to be the effect of the difference in imperial temperament.