Chapter 2136: Shizong Chronicles 4: The Empire's Map, Queuing Up to Die

At the Shou Duke Manor, in the Quiet Garden, by the emerald lake, beneath the green shade, the Duke of Shou, Li Shaoyou, whose hair and beard were snow-white without a single trace of impurity, lay quietly on a rattan chair enjoying the cool air, surrounded by the chirping of cicadas, dozing off—if one listened closely, one could even hear his even snoring.

Li Zongkai, the current head of the ducal manor, walked over with silent footsteps. It wasn't only the new Emperor Liu Wenji who had finally risen to prominence—the same went for Li Zongkai, the seventh son of Duke Shou. At nearly sixty years of age, he had finally outlived all six of his elder brothers, and in the sixth year of Pingkang, Li Shaoyou submitted a memorial requesting that he be established as heir, making him the successor and head of the Li clan (the Li Hongxin–Li Shaoyou line).

Of course, it was only because the old duke could live, with such enduring vitality—nearly ninety years old and still stubbornly alive. Had he passed even ten years earlier, the title of first heir to the Duke of Shou would hardly have fallen to Li Zongkai.

Among the empire's top-ranking nobles, some families had already passed down four or five generations, even beginning to strictly enforce the system of hereditary rank reduction, while families like Li Shaoyou's still stood in the glorious first generation. Even if they were already the last rays of the setting sun, the light they cast was still enough to illuminate and shelter all their descendants.

In the end, when it all came down to it, it was still about who lived the longest. In the upper circles of the Great Han Empire's nobility, the Li clan was clearly one of the best-managed families. Whether one had the fate to share in the nation's fortunes was perhaps already decided from the very first generation.

And as for Li Zongkai, who was about to—or had already—become the "head" of the Li clan, his reaching this position today was by no means purely due to Li Shaoyou's favoritism. A dignified Duke of Shou, after more than half a century of observation, could hardly have valued a mediocrity.

Over the past twenty-plus years, Li Zongkai's greatest achievement had been the colonization and management of the southern overseas fief (duchy).

In the Yongxi era, building upon Shizu's enfeoffment of foreign vassals, Emperor Taizong carried out another round of enfeoffment arrangements lasting several years. Aside from the various imperial princes of the clan, the greatest progress lay in the granting of titles to meritorious officials and honored nobles, thoroughly establishing the current enfeoffment structure of the Great Han Empire.

Although the allure of uncivilized barbarian lands was limited, under the wave of "great voyages" and "great expansion" forcibly set in motion by Shizu, Taizong's actions still reaped the loyalty and gratitude of a great many meritorious veterans and old retainers.

By the first year of Duangong, if one unfolded the complete imperial map, one would find that the entire Southeast Asia (the portions already explored) had been entirely encircled by the Great Han Empire (including the Indochinese Peninsula, Ceylon Island, part of India, the two Golden Continents of the South—that is, Sumatra and Java—Boni Island, that is, Borneo, and the South Sea Islands, that is, the Philippine Archipelago).

Across this vast territory, the various enfeoffed states naturally formed the main body, and beneath the enfeoffed states were all manner of great nobles, minor nobles, maritime merchant families, and landlord classes. Even ordinary Han commoners and those Han who had gone to sea bearing crimes could obtain the status of "gentry" within the enfeoffed state system.

Counting from the Kaibao era, over the course of sixty years before and after, a situation had finally formed from which one could not easily turn back. As long as the authority of the Great Han Empire remained, and the central court still possessed the ability to control the empire's situation, this trend of outward expansion and development would continue. As things stood, this state of affairs could last at least another hundred years.

Although there was some element of "map-drawing territorial expansion," the Great Han Empire of today had truly become a vast empire—bordering the sea to the east, reaching the South Seas to the south, extending to the midst of the northern deserts, and stretching to the riverlands of the west. It was an unprecedented super-empire.

Within such an extraordinary and great imperial system, the fief of the Duke of Shou, located on the Northern Golden Continent (the Southern Qi State), seemed small and utterly insignificant.

But even this tiny patch of land, after more than twenty years of development by Li Zongkai and the Li clan, had undergone earth-shaking changes. A port city—Shouzhou (Penang)—had emerged precisely at the entrance and exit of the Golden Continent Strait (Malacca).

By the first year of Duangong, Shouzhou of the Southern Qi State, led by Li Shaoyou's family, governed more than seventeen thousand Han residents, ranking among the notable new cities throughout the South Seas. Within the entire Northern Golden Continent, it was second only to the Southern Qi royal capital of Yuncheng (located roughly around Kuala Lumpur) and Liangping Island (Singapore).

Indeed, in the current South Seas region, when comparing city scale and development level, one simply looked at how many Han residents there were. As for the native population, agricultural and fishery output, and other economic developments, none of these carried primary weight. In an era when Han people and Han culture were rapidly surging outward, the standard for measuring development was just that simple and crude.

As for the family fief, over the course of some twenty years, Li Zongkai had personally traveled to the South Seas three times. Now that he was older and could no longer make the journey, he had arranged for two of his sons, Li Deqin and Li Defang, to go to the enfeoffed state.

Looking at the development of the past twenty years or so, the Great Han Empire's colonization policy had entered a virtuous cycle of development. Expansion led by clans, powerful families, and landlords was the more efficient and more sustainable model.

Of course, there was no fear that overseas fiefs would grow strong enough to break away from the mainland's main clan—at least not for now. Not to mention the restraining power that the clan collective held over each of its members, first and foremost the enfeoffed king at the top would not permit it, and could serve as arbiter. Above that were the South Seas garrison troops, and further north still was the deterrence of the great elder empire.

Even taking a broader view, for a very long time to come, the various kingdoms, duchies, and marquisates of the South Seas could not develop without exchange with the mainland. They might be able to exert a certain "reverse pressure" on the central government, but their dependence on the empire was not something they could shed in a short time.

In such an overall environment and trend, if anyone dared to act against the current and disrupt the shared consciousness and rules, they would not only be reviled but would also fall into a desperate situation of being besieged from all sides.

In the final analysis, the authority of the central court and the population and resources of the great elder empire were the most fundamental and powerful support for the Great Han's continued outward radiation of influence.

As for what developments and changes the more distant future might bring, that was not something that could be clearly explained at present. Even what the Great Han Empire would look like a hundred years from now was still unclear.

Returning to the Quiet Garden, by the pavilion, exposed to the summer sun, Li Zongkai sized up his old father with a glance, then clasped his hands and said: "Reporting to Father, His Majesty has arrived and has come to see you."

There was no response. Li Zongkai listened carefully, noticed the snoring, and reported again in a louder voice. Finally, Li Shaoyou reacted, letting out a sound rather like a pig's grunt, then woke up, opening his hazy old eyes with a sluggish expression, and said feebly: "Is that Zongrui?"

"Reporting to Father, it is your son Zongkai (Li Shaoyou's eldest son is named Li Zongrui)!" Li Zongkai answered loudly.

"What is it?" Li Shaoyou asked.

Li Zongkai repeated himself once more.

"Who came?"

Seeing this, Li Zongkai showed great patience, bent down to bring his mouth close to Li Shaoyou's ear, raised his voice again, and reported the news of the Emperor's arrival once more.

Upon hearing this, Li Shaoyou's body tensed, and a strange light appeared in his murky eyes, his spirits suddenly revived. Then he asked: "Which Emperor?"

"The current Son of Heaven, grandson of Shizu, son of Taizong, His Majesty the Duangong Emperor," Li Zongkai explained. "The son of Taizong—isn't that the Pingkang Emperor?" Li Shaoyou seemed to have understood and responded in this manner.

Hearing this, Li Zongkai said again: "Emperor Kangzong passed away last year. The current sovereign has already ascended the throne and changed the era name to Duangong. This time he has specially left the palace to come see you, Father!"

"Oh! The Emperor has come..." Li Shaoyou wore an expression of sudden realization, raised his hand and ordered: "Quickly change me into my court robes and throw open the manor gates wide. I must personally welcome him!"

In the time that the Li father and son had been going back and forth, Emperor Liu Wenji had already walked in, interrupting the "harmonious and smooth" exchange between father and son.

Approaching, his calm gaze carrying authority, Liu Wenji observed Li Shaoyou carefully for a few moments. Though his mouth said he wanted to welcome the Emperor, the man was still lying there even with the Emperor right before him, with even a bit of drool at the corner of his mouth.

"Has Duke Shou already declined to this state?" Liu Wenji turned his head and looked at Li Zongkai.

For some reason, when meeting the Emperor's gaze, a tremendous pressure surged up in Li Zongkai's heart. He immediately bowed and said: "My father is advanced in years, his spirits difficult to sustain—sometimes clear, sometimes confused. On ordinary days he often dwells on past matters..."

Hearing Li Zongkai say this, Liu Wenji withdrew his gaze, bent his knees and crouched down before Li Shaoyou, taking the initiative to grasp his hand—spotted, withered, and somewhat frighteningly thin—and said in a gentle tone: "I, young Liu Wenji, have some free time today and have specially come to see Duke Shou. I wonder if the duke is well?"

"Well! Well! Well!" Perhaps due to the authority of the Emperor, Li Shaoyou seemed to have understood, and answered in a mumbling voice.

Noticing the thread of drool at the corner of his mouth, Liu Wenji took out a handkerchief and wiped it clean for him. Li Zongkai, who had been watching Liu Wenji the whole time, hurriedly tried to lend a hand, but was refused by Liu Wenji.

After personally attending to Li Shaoyou, Liu Wenji then sat on a stone stool to the side, his expression amiable, looking at Li Shaoyou with a smile on his lips.

During this period, Liu Wenji had been leaving the palace with somewhat high frequency. Of course, unlike Kangzong, who delighted in pleasure and amusement, he was simply going to visit old ministers—especially those veterans who had served through several reigns—to comfort the hearts of old officials, continue building his reputation, and earn the good name of the "Duangong Emperor."

And Duke Shou Li Shaoyou, still alive and well at nearly ninety, was a figure that could not possibly be bypassed. Just this display by Liu Wenji alone was enough to show the importance he placed on him.

As he was pondering, he suddenly saw Li Shaoyou's eyes open wide, his spirits greatly roused, waving his hands and feet as he began to declaim: "In those days, when Gaozu raised his army, Shizu was but seventeen, and I had just reached the age of capping..."

The exchange between Liu Wenji and Li Shaoyou was basically each speaking of their own matters. Li Shaoyou was immersed in his own world, while Liu Wenji spoke of what he wanted to express. Even though their questions and answers were completely at cross-purposes, under the filter of the Emperor's halo, the scene appeared remarkably harmonious.

When Liu Wenji left the ducal manor and his imperial carriage set off, he could not help but let out a wistful sigh. Although Li Shaoyou was not a traditional heroic figure, he was after all a founding meritorious official, a founding follower of Shizu, and had once been active in the Great Han's political arena, exerting significant influence on the empire's politics, economy, and people's livelihood.

Now in his old age, reduced to this state of muddled twilight, it was truly a cause for lament. At the same time, "five-reign veteran ministers" like Li Shaoyou were extremely rare in the empire, and every remaining fruit was precious. After returning to the palace, Liu Wenji issued an edict bestowing upon Duke Shou Li Shaoyou such items as ceremonial robes, gold vessels, and a jade staff.

Back at the Shou Duke Manor, after seeing off the Emperor, Li Zongkai subconsciously let out a breath of relief. Returning to the pavilion, Li Shaoyou had already fallen asleep again, the snoring rising once more, his expression peaceful.

Li Zongkai also observed his old father carefully for a while, his heart filled with wonder. He did not know whether his father had been clear-headed or confused just now...

The first year of Duangong was a year of withering. A great many old nobles of the "ancient era" passed away one after another, including several important figures.

First was Guangyang Marquis Zhao Kuangyi, who passed away in his marquis manor in early July of that year, dying peacefully without illness—a good end, at the age of seventy-seven. As for Zhao Kuangyi, his resume and titles needed no elaboration. What was worth mentioning was that after Liu Wenji ascended the throne, he laughed uncontrollably in his manor, laughed until he wept, and ultimately drank himself into a stupor.

For Zhao Kuangyi, who had always been deep and reserved, such an abnormal display clearly concealed many complex and unspeakable emotions, and the knot in his heart was inevitably connected to the imperial throne.

If Liu Wenji could become Emperor, then what about Liu Wenhuan? Such matters always became more depressing the more one thought about them. Perhaps even to his death, Zhao Kuangyi was still silently cursing "women's shortsightedness"!

Following Zhao Kuangyi was Duke Shou Li Shaoyou, whose life was directly taken by a sudden autumn chill, at the age of eighty-nine.

Although he had not made it past ninety, it counted as a happy funeral, for his affairs had long been settled, the court would grant him the honor he was due, and what he left behind was a noble family of deep foundation and powerful influence.

"Heir" Li Zongkai inherited the title. It was worth mentioning that Li Zongkai's inheritance had also planted seeds of conflict within the Li clan. Not to mention Li Shaoyou's dozens of children, even the line of the eldest son Li Zongrui could not possibly accept it willingly, for in their eyes, their grandfather's legacy should have been theirs.

Another important figure was former Director of State Affairs Zhang Qixian. Before ascending the throne, Liu Wenji had taken an important measure: recalling to the capital the chief ministers and heavyweights who had been exiled from the central government by Kangzong, to attend his coronation ceremony, so as to comfort the hearts of old and loyal ministers.

Zhang Qixian was the most representative figure, and his role for Liu Wenji was enormous. Had Li Hang and Lü Mengzheng not already passed away, the "Three Talents of the Political Arena" from the mid-Kaibao era would have been reunited at the center once more—which would have been a fine tale, and of course would have provided even stronger support for Liu Wenji. For this, Liu Wenji could only privately feel regret.

After coming to the capital to attend the grand ceremony, he discussed statecraft with the new emperor, presented a summary of his lifelong governance experience, and then passed away at the Guest Reception Hall.

Besides Li, Zhao, and Zhang, in this year another figure of lesser importance but sufficiently noble status also departed — Wu Wang, Liu Hui. Given his years of decadent, self-indulgent living habits, surviving this long was itself an accident.

To the empire, Liu Hui was not important, and could hardly even be said to have influence anymore, but Liu Hui's death stirred up a ripple.

Rumors said that the Prince of Wu did not die of illness, but for other reasons. The true cause was related to the earlier succession struggle, and the specific details required circumspection.

Such rumors, insinuating and pointed, could be called soul-piercing. When Emperor Liu Wenji heard of them, he was momentarily shocked and alarmed. The charge of "killing one's uncle" was not something he wished to bear, and such slanderous rumors aimed at defamation made him all the more furious.