Chapter 2153: Taizong Chronicles 21: Prince Kang's Swan Song

In the fifth month of summer in the second year of Jianlong (1019), after nearly half a year and a journey of ten thousand li, Prince Kang Liu Ye finally arrived at the Western Capital of the empire. The road had been long and arduous, and for Liu Ye, now approaching sixty, it was a test of both will and body.

However, Liu Ye's will had been forged through years of trials and tribulations, so though the road was long and difficult, he traveled with composure, walked with ease, and bore no mental burden.

It was as if he had settled his heart to complete a rare journey in his life. Along the way, he inspected the military and civil affairs of Anxi, toured the territories of his kingdom, and observed the military and political conditions of the northwestern circuits of the Great Han. Whenever he passed places he had set foot on or struggled in during his youth, he would stop, recall the past, and when moved, even shed tears of old age.

From entering the Gaochang Circuit until reaching the passes within, at every major city, Liu Ye refused the gifts and welcomes of local officials, only requesting that they gather the mid- and lower-ranking clerks, soldiers, gentry, merchants, and artisans of the locality to listen to his "propaganda lectures" for the Kang Kingdom.

In the past, the three kingdoms of Anxi had often sent envoys and officials to the interior of the Great Han to promote their policies and spread their reputations in order to recruit talent, but how could those lowly errand-runners compare to the Prince of Kang himself personally lecturing and inviting? It was clearly more authoritative and alluring.

Even though many people attended Liu Ye's lectures merely out of curiosity, a portion were still attracted by the blueprint Liu Ye described. The three kingdoms of Anxi had already employed numerous means to attract talent and population from the empire—openly and covertly, by fair means and foul—sparing no effort.

Of course, as the king of the Kang Kingdom, and in full public view, Liu Ye still had to walk the straight and narrow path. His lectures focused on the Kang Kingdom's "Talent (Population) Resettlement Plan."

As a king governing a million subjects, Liu Ye was well-versed in how to move people. Talk of expanding territory and building achievements no longer worked on the people of the northwest, so what Liu Ye said was all about the most practical things, with his focus squarely on the word "interest."

Liu Ye introduced in detail the vast tracts of fine land, pastures, and specialty products that the Kangju Kingdom possessed, as well as its cities, population, and trade, along with the kingdom's preferential resettlement policies for Han populations.

Of course, similar policy lectures had been given before by Kang Kingdom envoys and special officials, but spoken personally from Liu Ye's mouth, the effect was different. Moreover, Liu Ye did not beat around the bush at all, not even avoiding talk of money and power. Even the economic benefits a Han person could generate by entering Kang were openly priced with clear tags.

Any Han who went to the Kang Kingdom would be given money, land, plow oxen, and farm tools by the government, and would even be allocated servants (slaves). All taxes would be waived for the first three years—and this was just for ordinary Han laborers.

As for those with learning, culture, or special skills, the treatment was even more preferential. Meanwhile, those who made outstanding contributions to immigration—for example, bringing a hundred people to the Kang Kingdom—could become a Captain under a battalion; five hundred people could secure a town head position in the government; a thousand or more could become a battalion master, controlling the livelihoods and even the lives and deaths of several thousand people including their servants.

Nor was there any need to fear that the Kang Kingdom lacked sufficient money, grain, livestock, or tools. Over decades of expansion and plunder, the Kangju Kingdom had seized vast wealth, and after setting aside internal rewards and normal administrative and military expenditures, there remained ample reserves to sustain the long-term implementation of the population resettlement plan.

Of course, wealth and slaves had their limits—first come, first served; latecomers get less. That was inevitable. Therefore, those with aspirations to go west needed to act quickly and promptly, or the opportunity would be snatched up by others.

Liu Ye's round of propaganda and mobilization held limited appeal for the upper-class magnates or the bottom-rung commoners of the empire's northwest. The former were already men above men within the realm, and the latter sought nothing more than stability and a full belly.

But for those in the middle strata—including corrupt officials, retired soldiers, merchants, artisans, and other urban small folk, as well as restless lumpen proletarians and criminal elements—it held tremendous attraction.

The Kang Kingdom offered these people a chance to get rich, a platform for class advancement. Some things, under the system of the Great Han Empire, required immense effort to achieve, but in a vassal state like Kang, the difficulty decreased exponentially. Moreover, even just for the Prince of Kang's personal charisma and solemn promises, the Kang Kingdom was a place worth going.

Every person wants to climb upward; everyone wants to ride on others' heads and be a man above men. Those who say they don't either have already achieved it, or lack the ability or opportunity. Once they get the chance, just watch their true colors.

And even setting aside all that empty talk, one heavyweight gesture of sincerity from Liu Ye alone was enough to send a swarm of adventurers rushing over. That was: the Kang Kingdom had decided to share its jade industry in the Hezhou region, welcoming Han merchants to come mine and operate.

Jade, due to its special significance and symbolism, had been highly revered in China for thousands of years. Around jade, a vast and extremely wide-reaching market had been born.

Especially in times of peace, from princes and nobles at the top to peddlers and porters at the bottom, regardless of class, anyone with a modest amount of assets would basically find a way to acquire a piece of jade and make it into an ornament.

And in the Great Han Empire, even counting from the Kaibao era, there had been overall peace for nearly sixty years. Accompanied by a surge in population, rising productivity, an explosion in the commodity economy, and massive accumulation of social wealth, it naturally spurred a great boom in the jade market.

The breadth of this market was nearly limitless. The key issue was the scarcity of raw jade resources, especially high-quality jade. And over the past few decades, where was the source of the empire's largest jade industry chain?

Without a doubt—Khotan! The Black Jade River and the White Jade River—though these two rivers did not produce gold, in the eyes of Khotan's elite, they were two golden waterways flowing with wealth. The various jades produced by the two rivers had always been in short supply in the Great Han market.

But this fortune had for decades been firmly in the hands of Khotan's elite, with outsiders unable to get a foothold. The enormous profits from the jade trade not only satisfied their luxurious lifestyles but also supported their armies and their people.

The jade wealth that Khotan possessed was clearly one of the reasons for its destruction. Now it was the Kang Kingdom's turn to hold the "jade market," and it had explicitly stated its willingness to share it. One can imagine how great an impact this caused.

The various words and deeds of Liu Ye as he traveled eastward, stirring waves across the northwestern lands, naturally made their way through the intelligence network of the Wude Office, complete and intact, onto the imperial desk of Emperor Liu Wenji.

Upon learning of the matter, Liu Wenji, besides praising his composure in the face of change and his measured demeanor, also felt a sense of poignancy at his painstaking efforts—even willing to swallow his pride and sing his own praises to attract and recruit distant people and develop the Kangju Kingdom.

His words and actions seemed to explain why he had risked overstepping regulations and provoking the empire's backlash to annex Khotan, a fellow vassal state. He was telling the Emperor and the court in no uncertain terms: the Kang Kingdom needed to develop, to establish itself in the Western Regions, and to maintain and consolidate Han rule.

As a sovereign, Liu Wenji could even understand Liu Ye to a certain extent. However, he was the Emperor of the Great Han Empire, the supreme ruler of the Han nation. He had to consider matters from the standpoint of the central court and within the framework of the Han Empire's suzerain-vassal system.

Still, Liu Wenji did not obstruct Liu Ye's recruitment of population and talent along the way. As a result, Liu Ye's trip to the capital attracted over thirty thousand Han immigrants to the Kangju Kingdom. Of course, this figure had not been officially and accurately counted, but the effect was obvious. Moreover, the conversion rate to "Kang citizens" was not high, because half of those people were going to engage in jade-related business.

At the same time, Liu Wenji also suppressed the welcome (impeachment) ceremony (attack) that the court had prepared for Liu Ye's belated arrival. Just address the matter on its merits; on further reflection, anything more was truly unnecessary and would only invite criticism.

After more than a decade, Liu Ye once again set foot in the imperial capital region of the Great Han Empire. The last time had been when Emperor Taizong passed away. It should be noted that by the time Emperor Kangzong died, there were already few vassal kings who personally came to the capital to mourn. There were not many overly eager people like Prince Andong Liu Wenyuan.

Taking the three kingdoms of Anxi as an example, at that time only Prince Beiting Liu Wengong personally went to Luoyang, but his main purpose was to visit his father, Prince Zhao Liu Fang. As for the brothers Liu Min and Liu Ye, they merely sent high-ranking, qualified ministers as envoys to rush to the Western Capital to offer condolences on their behalf.

How much had changed in over a decade, and how many sighs of lament it evoked from Liu Ye, need not be elaborated. However, when the Prince of Kang appeared before the eyes of the empire's central ministers and sovereign with his aged face and withered frame, all could not help but feel compassion. Of course, this compassion fundamentally stemmed from Liu Ye's identity.

Those who play politics often have hard hearts, but that doesn't mean the sympathy card or the emotional card cannot be played. It depends on the timing and the target. Prince Kang Liu Ye was, after all, a son of Emperor Shizu and a royal uncle of the current Son of Heaven. Given his advanced age, answering the court's summons and undertaking a journey of ten thousand li without complaint was truly no easy feat.

This arduous and lengthy journey in his twilight years, setting out at an inopportune season and spanning winter, spring, and summer—the mere changes of season alone were enough to wear a person down. Even a healthy young adult might not endure such a journey, let alone the aged and already ailing Prince of Kang. It was only by stretching out the travel time that Liu Ye avoided dying on the road.

Therefore, one can imagine the image Liu Ye ultimately presented before the empire's sovereign and ministers. Even maintaining basic dignity, the aura of decline radiating from within was enough to stir sorrow in all who saw him.

In Guangzheng Hall, in the Hall of State Affairs, before the Emperor, the chancellors, the Ministry of Rites, the Court of Frontier Affairs, and many other relevant ministries and bureaus, when Liu Ye unfastened his robes, bared his upper body, and revealed the dense, dense clusters of wounds and scars large and small, the empire's sovereign and ministers were visibly shaken.

What was unimaginable was not the wounds themselves, but that these scars could be so densely concentrated on Liu Ye's body. Everyone knew the three kingdoms of Anxi were in constant warfare and that the three kings had personally led troops in battle many times, but as kings and commanders, surely they wouldn't be like common soldiers, donning armor and wielding weapons, fighting on the front lines?

But the wounds on Liu Ye's body were explanation enough. On the battlefield, blades and arrows had no eyes. The battles large and small on the Central Asian front had not all gone smoothly. How many times had crises arisen, how many times had Liu Ye personally led charges to turn the tide—even he himself could not count them all.

These men had been dispatched by Emperor Shizu, personally enfeoffed by Emperor Shizu. How many life-and-death crises, how much blood and sacrifice—if the court were to disregard all this, and without discernment or reason, use the cold, rigid vassal regulations to charge Liu Ye with crimes, then not just Liu Ye, but the entire Kang Kingdom and the hearts of all Anxi would refuse to submit!

Compared to these marks of iron and blood, Yuchi Jue's plea seemed even more helpless and tragic. Before the Prince of Kang, this young man did not even dare raise his head, as if he were the one who had done wrong.

And on the matter of the former territory of Khotan, Yuchi Jue was destined for a tragic outcome. Not to mention what the Emperor and ministers thought, the Prince of Kang Liu Ye still had a trump card. He raised a matter: when Emperor Shizu was on the throne, he had said to him: "Though Khotan calls itself a vassal, its heart is impure. One day, you shall take it yourself."

Whether Emperor Shizu had actually said such words, no one knew, and it could not be verified from the imperial diaries, because not everything Shizu said was recorded. But such words coming from Liu Ye's mouth had a certain plausibility; at the very least, one could not completely deny that it had happened.

When Liu Ye brought out that towering mountain of Emperor Shizu, the interrogation in Guangzheng Hall became somewhat of a joke. First go prove whether those words were true. Faced with such an outcome, even a man of cultivation like Emperor Liu Wenji could not help but have an unpleasant expression on his face as he left.

Prince Kang Liu Ye once again made people feel his "rebelliousness." Following the rules was not his style; catching people off guard was what often left them in awkward positions.

And to be honest, his approach was very dangerous and highly taboo. There were plenty of people who had close relationships with Emperor Shizu, and many were still alive. If everyone plucked up their courage and waved "Shizu's oral instructions" around to act and profit, wouldn't the world descend into chaos? And where would that leave the current Son of Heaven?

Therefore, compared to the Kang Kingdom's destruction of Khotan itself, the "Shizu's last decree" that Liu Ye presented in Guangzheng Hall was the more significant political event. This trend absolutely could not be allowed to grow! The empire's central authority, sovereign and ministers alike, all saw this clearly, especially Emperor Liu Wenji, who was particularly sensitive to it.

However, just as Liu Wenji was struggling to contain his anger over "Shizu's oral instructions" and racking his brains for ways to suppress the matter and eliminate its adverse effects, it was not long before he discovered that he had once again wasted his efforts.

The Prince of Kang had been very high-profile on his journey back to the capital, but after arriving, he was so low-key as to seem unlike himself. This was mainly reflected in his social interactions after returning. To be precise, he had almost no social interactions at all. Among court ministers, nobles, and imperial clansmen, apart from his fourth brother, Prince Zhao Liu Fang, he saw no one, nor did he visit or contact anyone to lobby on his behalf to fully accomplish the annexation of Khotan.

Even the network of connections that had previously been linked to the Prince of Kang's line, Liu Ye showed no intention of consolidating. When others came to him on their own initiative, he politely declined. Apart from being questioned in Guangzheng Hall, Liu Ye only proactively visited Liu Fang.

In Liu Ye's entire life, apart from Emperor Shizu, there was probably no one who could truly subdue him. Even his fourth brother Liu Fang, so formidable in martial prowess, was not someone he was genuinely convinced by deep down, despite how it might have appeared.

But now that he was old, the arrogance of his youth had been worn away by the passage of time. Facing his fourth brother, Prince Zhao, it was probably the first time in Liu Ye's life that he truly conversed with Liu Fang with a calm heart—no comparison or rivalry, no ulterior motives, only brotherly affection and glorious memories.

In Liu Ye's military career spanning more than thirty years, he had significant intersections with Liu Fang, especially during the suppression of the rebellion in Yulin. That was when Liu Ye was just starting out, while Liu Fang was already a celebrated imperial prince and imperial clansman commander. Naturally, the brothers' conversations could not avoid the battlefield, military affairs, and the art of war, with the Yulin suppression and the western expedition being the most discussed topics.

For Liu Ye, the most gratifying thing was probably hearing for the first time from his fourth brother's mouth lavish praise for their achievements and glory in pioneering and advancing in Central Asia, including recognition and appreciation of him personally.

But when the matter of Khotan came up, Liu Fang made no statement. When he took his leave of Liu Fang, Liu Ye seemed somewhat wistful, because he realized that even in retirement, this fourth brother of nearly seventy displayed a bearing and magnanimity that he could not match.

For someone as proud as Liu Ye, recognizing that he was inferior to another was difficult, and admitting it, no matter how free-spirited he was, dealt a blow to his spirit. It meant abandoning the persistence within him called "refusal to accept."

After visiting Prince Zhao, Liu Ye secluded himself in his old residence in the capital for two more days, then prepared sacrificial offerings and went once more to pay respects to Emperor Shizu. Only this time, he did not go to the Imperial Ancestral Temple, but instead left the city northward to Mang Mountain, where he wept bitterly at the foot of the mountain before returning.

Two days later, Liu Ye passed away at the Prince Kang's residence in Luoyang.

The death of Prince Kang also put Emperor Liu Wenji in an awkward position, plunging the court into an extremely embarrassing situation. They had summoned the man from ten thousand li away to interrogate him about his crimes, but before any crime could be questioned, the matter dragged out a "Shizu's oral edict," and the man died right there in the capital.

This affair could only be described as botched! At this point, quibbling over the "Khotan Incident" and the like was utterly meaningless. Although it was not Liu Wenji's usual style of handling matters, this affair ultimately came to a close in an anticlimactic fashion.

As for Kangju's annexation of Khotan, it was absolutely impossible for the court to issue a golden patent of investiture, but the court decided to adopt a tacit acceptance. As for Khotan's exiled ruler and ministers, not long afterward, the Court of Colonial Affairs sent people to "escort" them to Anxi.

On the Anxi side, back in Liu Min's time, they had already agreed to carve out a piece of territory for Khotan's ruler and ministers to take refuge in and restore their state. However, the location was to be decided by the Anxi side.

The Anxi side was indeed not stingy—a fine place, Khorasan—carving out from it a territory of three cities and ten towns. The biggest problem was that the population under its rule was predominantly Persian, harboring a large number of Muslims, and at the same time, it was a frontline region directly facing the threat of the Ghaznavids.

To expand a bit here: after Yuchi Jue arrived in Khorasan, relying on his previous accumulation, partial support from the court, and the rallying power of the title "King of Khotan," with the assistance of a host of followers, he did manage to initially establish the state and organize his own army (though small in scale) as well as an administrative structure (though it was just a makeshift setup).

But immediately afterward, hard times came. Liu Min's death not only shook the state of Anxi profoundly but also stirred waves in the Islamic world—the conqueror from the East was dead, which was greatly satisfying to many.

Especially the Ghaznavid Dynasty—Mahmud, who had suffered greatly at Liu Min's hands, upon learning of his death, quickly shifted his gaze from India to the north, and recovering the lost territories of Khorasan became his first objective.

Thus, Khorasan was once again plunged into slaughter and chaos. The small and weak "Khotan" was like a fish caught in the crossfire of two great powers' struggles, beset by constant turmoil, always facing the threat of Ghaznavid armies and attacks from Muslim believers, living a life of precarious uncertainty.

In Khorasan, Yuchi Jue endured a full three years of "hard living"—miserable, living in constant dread. In the end, he even lost his throne, usurped by his uncle Yuchi Guanglin, who held military power. Had it not been for a loyal servant's advance warning, he would likely have lost his life as well.

Fleeing to Transoxiana, he sought help from Anxi's King Liu Wenze, but at that time, Liu Wenze had only just thoroughly suppressed several brothers who had challenged his royal authority, consolidating power and securing internal stability. Immediately afterward, he had to deal with the threat from Ghaznavid—how could he have any mind to spare for a Yuchi Jue?

At the same time, Yuchi Guanglin was farsighted enough to send envoys to report to the Transoxiana court, declaring his determination to follow the Transoxiana royal court and resist the Ghaznavids, and he sent his legitimate son to Transoxiana as a hostage. Thus, Yuchi Jue's intention to petition the Transoxiana royal court to arbitrate on his behalf came to nothing. The only saving grace was that Liu Wenze still maintained some decency—he did not, as Yuchi Guanglin had requested, send Yuchi Jue back to "Khotan," but instead let him go eastward.

After all the twists and turns, Yuchi Jue ultimately returned to Luoyang, and in the end, relying on the stipend Emperor Liu Wenji granted him out of pity for his plight, he lived out the remainder of his life as a "resident exile." Though uneventful, it was at least stable.

——————

Returning to the summer of the second year of Jianlong—having disposed of the "Khotan Incident" almost while holding his nose, Emperor Liu Wenji still had to worry about the stigma of "killing one's uncle" once again falling upon his head. Even though he had taken preventive measures, similar rumors still appeared; the scope was not wide, but the speculation of people's hearts was always difficult to stop.

To be fair, the death of Prince Kang Liu Ye did eliminate much of the impact that "Shizu's oral edict" had on Liu Wenji. A man's death was more effective than any remedial measure or action.

Only, as for Liu Wenji's reputation, one should not expect it to be flawless. Of course, this was also something that any capable ruler inevitably had to experience.

At the same time, the "Khotan Incident" was also a major political setback Liu Wenji had encountered since ascending the throne. Not only did it fail to achieve the effect he had wanted, but it also created considerable adverse influence among the vassal states at home and abroad. The centrifugal trend between the central government and the vassal states had clearly intensified.

But was this not also the reform Liu Wenji wanted to achieve? Only, what he wanted was separation without dissolution—clear dealings, each going their own way in peace. To realize this goal, he needed to establish a more effective communication mechanism, and because Prince Kang had died in Luoyang, Liu Wenji had no choice but to postpone this process once again.