Chapter 2141: Shizong Chronicles 9: The Third Year of Yongxi
Xiang Deming (Director of State Affairs), Liu Ji Chang (Minister of Personnel), Li Jilong (Commissioner of Military Affairs), Murong Dechen (Left Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs), Guo Yi (Minister of War), Kou Zhun (transferred to Capital Inspector), Xiang Minzhong (transferred to Finance Commissioner), Xu Shilian (Minister of Justice), Wang Qinruo (Vice Director of the Secretariat)—these nine men constituted the distribution of chancellors in the Hall of State Affairs at the beginning of the first year of Yongxi, and they basically represented the overall power structure of the entire court.
Yet in less than three years, this power structure shattered into pieces. These towering figures standing at the apex of imperial power, for one reason or another, successively departed, yielding their positions and returning their authority.
This was a process of the sovereign advancing and the ministers retreating. The process was hardly tranquil—it even meant chaos and disorder in itself—but in fact, the turnover in the Hall of State Affairs had been consistently smooth, so smooth as to feel like water flowing naturally into place. What this reflected behind the scenes was, naturally, the low-key yet formidable control exercised by the Yongxi Emperor.
The downfall and departure of the two chancellors Liu Jichang and Xu Shilian need not be revisited. In the fourth month of summer in the second year of Yongxi, the Duke of Leping, Commissioner of Military Affairs Li Jilong, died of illness at home, bringing to a close his tumultuous and magnificent life.
Li Jilong was unquestionably a dazzling star in the military history of the Great Han Empire. A veteran of four reigns—Kaibao, Yongxi, Pingkang, and Yongxi—the tides of the era could not wash away his brilliance, and "pillar of the state" was the most fitting assessment of him during the Kangzong reign.
He had a fine pedigree, and at a young age won the favor of Princess Liu Jia, the eldest daughter of Shizu. Being an Imperial Son-in-law never became an obstacle to his radiance or his abilities. In decades of military service, he campaigned west and fought north, earning countless merits on the battlefield with few defeats.
Li Jilong's life was smooth, glorious, and resplendent—achieving fame and success with virtually no blemishes. He was a template of a life's winner, a model of the meritorious elite that the court vigorously promoted, and an object of admiration for the sons of many meritorious officials. Even those idle sons of the pampered classes dreamed of living their lives the way Li Jilong had.
Though there was no shortage of people sour about Li Jilong's pedigree and the role of his Imperial Son-in-law status, no one could deny his outstanding military talent. Otherwise, with so many meritorious officials and nobles in the Great Han, and no shortage of Shizu's princesses, besides Yang Yanzhao, who else had achieved what Li Jilong had?
In life he was perfect; in death, for this meritorious pillar of the empire, this chancellor of the Great Han, this imperial aunt's husband, Liu Wenji also granted him ample posthumous honors. Suspension of court, an imperial edict for a spirit-path stele inscription, admission to the Hall of Meritorious Officials, grace and favor to his descendants—these were all due proprieties. At the same time, Liu Wenji also had Li Jilong enshrined in the Imperial Ancestral Temple and posthumously conferred upon him the title Duke of Lu.
Though Li Jilong was granted the loftiest posthumous treatment, the pinnacle of what a subject could receive, it must be said that even had Li Jilong not died of illness, his position as Commissioner of Military Affairs would not have lasted much longer.
Liu Wenji's heart was not so petty. What he targeted was not Li Jilong the man, but the identity of that man occupying such a position. Out of the instinct to consolidate rule and safeguard imperial authority, he needed to take certain actions.
However, in the Yongxi reign, only a handful of people could truly succeed Li Jilong. Initially, only three were listed as the publicly recommended candidates: Guo Yi, Yang Yanzhao, and Guo Liangping.
Yet Guo Yi had only recently taken office as Minister of War in the capital and was already a chancellor, so he was not easily moved. Yang Yanzhao, on the other hand, had already withdrawn to the "second-line" position of Commander of the Imperial Guard, and this was also related to Yang Ye's original support.
During Guo Liangping's tenure, the empire's navy stood tall and spoke loudly, but by the same token, it had reached the limit of what the old nobles of the army could tolerate. That limit could at most hold until Guo Liangping retired or died.
Throughout the entire Pingkang era, how many military deployments at home and abroad were led by Li Jilong, and how many suppressions of local unrest, bandit exterminations, and rebel quellings were carried out at Li Jilong's instigation—these could not be precisely counted. At the same time, if those old affairs were dredged up and strictly examined according to regulations, the charge of exceeding authority and arrogating power would not wrong Li Jilong in the least.
Under the Great Han military system, the Bureau of Military Affairs only held the authority to dispatch troops. But when Li Jilong's decades of military career and the towering prestige he had accumulated in the army were combined with his multiple identities—meritorious noble, Imperial Son-in-law, four-reign veteran, and imperially appointed assisting minister—the power he could wield far exceeded what ordinary people could imagine.
Guo Liangping had struggled his whole life and charged his whole life; there was no reason for him to choose weakness at the end. Only this time, fortune was not on his side, and he fell before the position of Commissioner of Military Affairs as a failure. Shortly afterward, he passed away at the age of sixty-eight.
Liu Wenji was by nature composed, and after ascending the throne his reserve grew even deeper. Even when his mind was already racking itself for ways to change horses, not a trace showed on his face. In daily dealings he even showed Li Jilong every consideration and consolation.
With Guo Liangping excluded, the choice between Guo Yi and Yang Yanzhao was equally difficult. In the eyes of the world, these two were the most qualified to serve as Commissioner of Military Affairs—after all, they were the "Three Heroes of the Meritorious" and the "Three Talents of the Young Generation" from the Shizu era, with solid reputations, records, and achievements.
If one such matter occurred and succeeded, then a second and third would surely follow—this could be inferred, and it was not something an emperor with aspirations could tolerate.
By the second year of Yongxi, Liu Wenji had completely secured the throne. He no longer needed to be as excessively cautious as before, and could make military and political decisions with an autonomous mindset.
Guo Liangping was the banner figure of the empire's navy. With the support of Shizu, he used concrete actions to elevate the Great Han navy to a status it should not have reached. During his two tenures in the Bureau of Military Affairs as Deputy Commissioner, the navy achieved leapfrog development compared to the past several decades, including the reform of the South Seas garrison, the warship modernization plan, training upgrades, and deep-ocean exploration—all launched under his leadership.
That would only produce another Li Jilong.
But by the same token, Guo Liangping was also the most impossible—indeed, the first to be excluded. Not because he was old, nor because his merits or seniority were insufficient, nor because of his background. The root lay in the "army-navy rivalry" within the Great Han military.
Among them, Guo Liangping had the most obvious ambition. As the First Deputy Commissioner of Military Affairs, he was closest to the position. At nearly seventy, he had little time left and could not wait much longer.
Toward the Yang clan, he naturally relied heavily and placed no restrictions on promoting Yang family members. But with Yang Ye and Yang Yanzhao, the two elders—especially while the old Grand Preceptor Yang was still alive—he found it truly difficult to feel at ease elevating Yang Yanzhao to the position of chancellor.
From Yongxi through Pingkang to Yongxi, Li Jilong had served as chancellor for over a full decade. Though this process belonged to a special period of the empire and served to protect the regime and stabilize the military during that special period, to an emperor—especially one with a strong desire for control—his very existence was a threat.
When Guo Liangping chose to make his charge at the position of Commissioner of Military Affairs, one could imagine what resistance and attacks he would encounter. He himself was not necessarily unaware of this, but he still chose to strike out, just as decades earlier he had led the fleet on distant voyages, extending the empire's reach to the Persian region.
What truly prompted Liu Wenji to make up his mind was the incident in the first year of Yongxi when Li Jilong furiously denounced Xu Shilian, leading to Xu Shilian and a batch of censors and remonstrance officials being banished to local posts. Though Liu Wenji could to a certain extent understand Li Jilong's intent to defend the authority of the Bureau of Military Affairs and the interests of the military, and even had his own reservations about Xu Shilian and the others, he simply could not let go of that feeling of being "coerced."
Li Jilong's death by illness before the emperor could act saved Liu Wenji trouble while also leaving himself a perfect name in life and death. Perhaps this too was a kind of fortune.
With Li Jilong gone, a contest over the position of Commissioner of Military Affairs was inevitable. But this remained a struggle within the military system itself—more precisely, among military aristocrats and meritorious generals. Anyone else who dared to reach for it would suffer backlash, and even the emperor dared not rashly break the long-established unwritten rule.
Thus, in midsummer of the second year of Yongxi, the newly minted chancellor of the Great Han Empire was again an unexpected choice: the Duke of Fufeng, Chief Inspector of the Palace Command, Ma Huaiyu. Though somewhat surprising, no effective objection could truly be raised against Ma Huaiyu.
The "buffs" that Li Jilong and Yang Yanzhao carried—Ma Huaiyu had all of them except the Imperial Son-in-law title. Moreover, he had been an adopted son of Shizu, and his relationship with Taizong was as close as brothers. It was only that his record and achievements were not as dazzling as Li's and Yang's. But with him as chancellor, there was truly no one who could challenge him.
As the dust settled, the emperor also attached a round of placating maneuvers. Yang Yanzhao was elevated to Duke of Guoxian, making the Yang clan a family of two dukes. Guo Yi was elevated to First-Class Marquis of Wujin, opening a new branch for the Guo clan.
Shortly after this matter, the Marquis of Zhiyuan, Guo Liangping, also died of melancholy. For the vacated position of First Deputy Commissioner of Military Affairs, Emperor Liu Wenji, after careful deliberation, selected Cao Wei, Chief Inspector of the Imperial Guard Command—the fourth son of the late Marquis of Zhending, Cao Bin. As for the vacated position of Chief Inspector of the Imperial Guard Command—that key post actually holding command authority over the Imperial Guard cavalry and infantry—Liu Wenji settled on Tian Bangyi, Chief Commander of the Husheng Army.
This man was the grandson of the meritorious veteran general Tian Zhongjin. Though he belonged to the meritorious nobility, his family background was not so illustrious—compared to the Yangs, Lis, and Caos, it was dimmer by more than a little. This was, of course, one of the main reasons Liu Wenji chose him to hold military power. What Shizu and Taizong might have felt was unknowable, but after the dissipation of Kangzong's reign, when it came to Liu Wenji's turn to take charge, he could not help but harbor wariness toward the powerful, entrenched military-aristocratic class throughout the court and country, especially within the military.
Liu Wenji naturally knew that the military could not be lightly touched and that the core interests of the meritorious nobility were not easily infringed upon. Therefore, major moves could be held back, but small knives could be slowly applied. First, he would sow division and balance within the military-merit nobility bloc itself, promoting families like the Tians whose power was weak and influence relatively limited, and later cultivate generals from humble and common origins. Of course, this was destined to be a long, painstaking process that could not be rushed.
On the other hand, after making these "minor surgical" adjustments to the military command system, Liu Wenji issued an edict re-establishing the post of Academician of the Bureau of Military Affairs, filling it with Cao Liyong, an Inner Cabinet Academician and drafter of edicts. The stated reason for re-establishing the post was that he was unfamiliar with military affairs, yet the great matters of state could not be left unknown to him, and so this post would serve as a bridge between the emperor and the Bureau of Military Affairs to strengthen communication.
A series of measures of modest scope but markedly strengthening imperial authority were carried out. Even some sharp-eyed figures within the civil official system perceived the not-so-sedentary heart of the current sovereign. And those who felt this most deeply were, without question, the military system itself—especially the old meritorious noble families.
However, the power-holders in the military did not voice anything about this. The imperial military system granted them an almost transcendent status and treatment, but it also imposed a set of open, visible restrictions on everyone. What one did below the table was one thing, but whoever dared to openly challenge the established consensus of the rules would face pressure from above and below.
On the other hand, Liu Wenji's series of maneuvers all operated within the established rules and did not shake the nobility's dominant position over the military. One could not expect every emperor to be like Kangzong. The discomfort generated in the transition from the Pingkang era to the Yongxi era was something everyone had to gradually accept—and it was the subjects who had to adapt to the emperor, as determined by strong imperial power.
In the spring of the third year of Yongxi, Liu Yao, Prince of Xuchang and Director of the Secretariat, submitted a memorial reporting that Liu Wenhuan, the Prince of Annam, had died in Jiaozhi.
Liu Yao was the youngest son of Emperor Shizu, born of Consort Zhou Yi, born in the nineteenth year of Kaibao. He was initially enfeoffed as Duke of Han, and after Kangzong ascended the throne, he was elevated to Commandery Prince of Xuchang. Previously, when Liu Jichang fell from power and was demoted, he was selected by convention as a member of the imperial clan to enter the Hall of State Affairs.
Emperor Liu Wenji twice invited Prince Zhao, Liu Fang, to come out of retirement, and was refused both times. He then invited Prince Yan, Liu Zhao, who oversaw the Imperial Clan Court. Unsurprisingly, Liu Zhao also declined. With both princes refusing, Liu Wenji had no choice but to turn his gaze to others.
Among Shizu's sons, besides the two great princes of Zhao and Yan, only Prince Shu, Liu Xuan, and Prince Xuchang, Liu Yao, remained in the capital. After a round of examination, Liu Wenji settled on having Prince Xuchang, Liu Yao, enter the Hall of State Affairs as Director of the Secretariat, while also overseeing the Court of Dependencies. Besides balancing the court situation, his main role was foreign affairs—especially the interactions and connections with the various enfeoffed states and vassal domains in all directions.
The "Andong Incident" had still not been fully investigated, but regardless of its truth, it served as a warning to Liu Wenji. As he strengthened his attention on the various vassal states that year and gathered a great deal of political, military, and economic intelligence, Liu Wenji also came to realize that the empire and its enfeoffed states, bound by blood, were interacting frequently but were developing toward a normal "state-to-state" relationship.
This trend deeply unsettled Liu Wenji as the emperor of the central empire—that discomfort of affairs slipping beyond control. But facing this trend, he had no choice but to calm himself, analyze carefully, and treat it rationally.
Enfeoffed states were not uncommon in Chinese history, but overseas enfeoffed states were still a novel matter requiring an entirely new way of interaction. If one clung to old perspectives and old stories, problems would inevitably arise.
The constant troubles in the State of Andong were an extremely obvious sign and manifestation of this. In fact, Liu Wenji knew well in his heart that the interactions between the central empire and the various large and small enfeoffed states required a set of more practical rules and methods suited to the developmental trends of the times, to normalize them. Otherwise, they would only drift further apart amid ever-increasing contradictions and friction.
The geographical distance alone made it difficult for the familial affection among the imperial clan after Shizu to be preserved long-term. The word "interest" might be cold, but for both sides, it could allow each to treat their relationship with calm rationality.
Of course, for a long time to come, the direction of this relationship's development would be guided by the will of the central empire—of this there was no doubt. Therefore, Liu Wenji placed great hopes on the appointment of Prince Xuchang, Liu Yao, and granted him substantial real power. At the same time, Liu Yao's age (five years younger than Liu Wenji) was sufficient for him to help build a further-advanced new vassal system together.
When Liu Yao reported to Liu Wenji the death of the Prince of Annam, Liu Wenhuan, it was also an opportunity to practice the still-forming "new vassal system." But before that, etiquette and human sentiment had to be addressed first.
After failing to seize the throne upon returning to the capital, Liu Wenhuan, in early summer of the first year of Yongxi, once again left the capital in dejection, heading south back to his enfeoffed state. On the journey, he contracted a lung ailment. After returning to Annam, it lingered without cure, and finally he passed away in the spring of the third year.
Liu Wenhuan's life carried a somewhat tragic color. He was of noble birth, extraordinary talent, and great ambitions. He might have been proud and aloof at times, but rarely did he slacken. In his youth, he was the swift steed cherished by Shizu; in his young adulthood, he was the eldest imperial son on whom Taizong placed great hopes. But fate had its own designs—he met the wrong people, and his grand ambitions all came to nothing.
Of course, the influence of his rival Liu Wenji on him was far greater than it appeared on the surface. Though they had not directly faced competition for a long time, the moment Liu Wenji made his move, he stepped directly onto Liu Wenhuan's shoulders to ascend to the supreme position.
Tragedy was inevitable, but the dignified Prince of Annam was hardly an object of sympathy, for no one in the world was qualified to sympathize with him. The last year-plus of his life, though racked by illness, was by and large the period when Liu Wenhuan lived most lucidly and composedly.
Before his death, Liu Wenhuan had arranged his affairs. He established his fourth son, Liu Jidan, as heir to the throne, while having Queen Liu E oversee the state as regent. Liu Wenhuan had four sons in total. Liu Jiyuan and Liu Jichu, born of Lady Chang, were without question excluded from the list of candidates.
The remaining choice could only be between the third son, Liu Jicheng, and the fourth son, Liu Jidan. Neither was old—one was fourteen, the other eleven. In the end, Liu Jidan was chosen, because he had no mother, and Queen Liu E's pillow talk was formidable. During the period of Liu Wenhuan's convalescence, many affairs of the State of Annam were in fact handled by Liu E, and handled well. Her excellent political ability surprised Liu Wenhuan and also prompted him to make the final decision that would determine the fate of Annam.
Under the enfeoffed state system, these arrangements of Liu Wenhuan still required submission of a memorial to the capital, requesting confirmation from the central court, approval and conferral of the investiture, and dispatch of envoys to proclaim it before they carried legal effect.
For this matter, Liu Wenji specifically convened the chancellors of the Hall of State Affairs for a court deliberation. On the question of succession to the throne, there was no great objection—the decision of the Prince of Annam still had to be respected to some degree. The only dissent concerned the matter of Queen Liu E overseeing the state as regent. The chancellors of the Great Han, who had experienced the interference in government by Empress Dowager Murong and were even still enduring its aftermath, were particularly averse to the situation of "a hen crowing at dawn."
However, upon careful deliberation, no better alternative could be found—after all, one could hardly hand over a "great power" like Annam directly to an eleven-year-old child. Reluctant as they were, they could only hold their noses and accept it for now, waiting until Liu Jidan grew up before making further arrangements.
Kou Zhun still harbored deep feelings for Annam. When he had a private audience with the Emperor, he proposed an alternative solution: take the kingdom of Annam back and restore it to direct central administration. As one might expect, Liu Wenji flatly rejected this—dividing a family is easy, but reuniting it is hard. Even setting aside other considerations, Liu Wenji could not ignore the powerful influence of the enfeoffment policies established by Shizu and Taizong, an influence sustained by the vigorous defense of numerous vested interests.
The final decision was to approve Annam's petition: Grand Academician of the Jixian Hall and Vice Minister of Rites Yang Yi would be given the additional title of Annam Pacification Commissioner and travel south to Jiaozhi to offer consolation on behalf of the court, install the new king, and bestow the golden book of investiture.
This too was a measure that broke with convention, because under the original system, the throne of a vassal kingdom was hereditary, and the new king was required to come to the capital in person to receive his investiture. That practice reflected the strong desire for control of Emperor Shizu, who had established such rules—but in the third year of Duangong, it was clearly no longer suitable, and so making some adaptive changes in accordance with the times was only natural.
From then on, the imperial center formally began to shift its policy toward relations with the various vassal kingdoms. For the kingdom of Annam, with the accession of the new king Liu Jidan, a chaotic period of intricate complexity and frequent strife began.
The regency of Queen Dowager Liu E was destined to be fraught with challenges and difficulties: in the harem, Consort Dowager Zhao was unwilling to remain in obscurity; at court, there were the Zhao clan and the old ministers loyal to Liu Wenhuan; and domestically, there were numerous barbarian tribes of uncertain loyalty, while Liu Jiyuan and Liu Jili, brothers who had suffered contempt and harbored resentment, remained fixated on their loss of the throne. (Liu Wenhuan's feelings toward these two sons were complicated—he had stationed them far away in Wenzhou and Wanzhou in the southwest, out of sight, out of mind.)
With all these forces and contradictions, and without the strong support of Liu Wenhuan, Liu E's path of regency was visibly arduous, and the strength she could rely on was truly limited. Her only advantage lay in the late king's testament on one side and the court's edict on the other, and in the fact that she held the new king Liu Jidan firmly under her protection.
PS: Upon receiving news of Liu Wenhuan's death, Liu Wenji wept bitterly. The two brothers, having grown up and matured, had drifted apart—that was the push of the times, the choice of history. But there had once been a time when brother was kind and brother was respectful, when they sat together at Shizu's knee, laughing and talking happily.
With Kangzong Liu Wenpeng, there may have been a certain generation gap between them, yet there was always a bond of brotherhood. If Liu Wenhuan had lived, then "each going their own way in peace" would have held; but once he passed, certain emotions could no longer be suppressed.
Emperor Taizong had only three sons in total, and now two of the three were gone, both dying in the prime of life. This likewise placed considerable psychological pressure on Liu Wenji and prompted him to make the decision to appoint a Crown Prince early.
End of Chapter
