Chapter 2170: Shizong Arc 38: The Andong King's Will

In the winter of the eighth year of Jianlong, Suihua City, the Kingdom of Andong.

In the depths of winter, in the bitter cold of the ninth period of nine-day cold spells, the Yazi River had long since entered its ice season, its thick surface solid enough for men to race horses across. Cold mist hung heavy, snowflakes swirled wildly, and by the riverbank a royal banner fluttered high against the wind. Beneath the banner, the Prince of Andong, Liu Wenyuan, wrapped in layer upon layer of clothing, leaned back in a palanquin, silently watching the scattered groups of travelers and passersby coming and going across the ice.

With his sixtieth birthday approaching, Liu Wenyuan's aged state had become quite pronounced. His deeply furrowed face was filled with the air of decline, yet the bone-piercing wind against his cheeks could not move his expression. Adorned with falling snow, his brows and beard appeared even more crystalline and white. Only his eyes occasionally revealed a sharp and awe-inspiring glint...

The Prince of Andong, having returned to Suihua from Luoyang, had clearly suffered a blow to his spirit and vitality, his whole body carrying a suppressed air. However, such a Prince of Andong was, to his subjects, not necessarily a bad thing.

Restraint, steadiness, tolerance, humility—qualities that had been strangers to Liu Wenyuan for decades—now appeared in him in a manner that caught everyone off guard. Amid Andong's frozen landscape, the Prince of Andong let people feel, for the first time, what it meant to be bathed in a spring breeze.

So even someone as proud and fierce as Liu Wenyuan was not without a gentle, accommodating side. It was only that, for the subjects of Andong, such days had come too late and clearly would not last long.

That the Prince of Andong was in his declining years was known to all, high and low. Indeed, many people and factions had already turned their gaze to the next generation. As for the succession to the Andong throne, there was in truth no dispute. Twenty years ago, when his eldest son Liu Jitan first came of age, Liu Wenyuan had established him as Crown Prince, with the endorsement of an imperial edict from Taizong.

Liu Jitan, the legitimate eldest son of Liu Wenyuan, was born in the twenty-fourth year of Kaibao. His original name was Liu Jikang. After the death of the Prince of Qin, Liu Xu, he was renamed Ji Tan, for "tan" was homophonous with "Qin"...

Of course, whether the heir's position was secure depended not only on his own abilities but, crucially, on the ruler's attitude. And in this regard, Liu Wenyuan's stance had been unwavering.

Liu Wenyuan had no shortage of offspring—seven sons in total, legitimate and illegitimate, who had reached adulthood. With so many sons, it was impossible that none harbored designs on the throne. Over twenty years, various open and covert struggles had unfolded over the right of succession, yet none had managed to shake Liu Jitan's position.

The primary reason for this outcome lay in Liu Wenyuan's overbearing strength. From the very fact that he had renamed his eldest son "Tan," one could see what deep feelings he had invested in this son.

Moreover, as the Crown Prince he himself had established, any attempt to target or overthrow him was regarded by Liu Wenyuan as contempt for and disrespect of his own authority, and would be met with severe crackdown—even if the offender was his own son.

Thus, over the past years, Liu Wenyuan's sons had one by one been banished from the royal city of Suihua—some to guard the borders, some to govern the people, or simply exiled to the wilderness.

Having such a ruthless, domineering father was a stroke of luck for his sons—take Liu Jitan, for instance, who received nearly eighty percent of Liu Wenyuan's paternal love, his path paved smooth, all open spears and hidden arrows blocked along the way. But equally, being Liu Wenyuan's son was also a misfortune. Just look at how the other princes of Andong fared: by the eighth year of Jianlong, only his youngest son, Liu Jiyun, who had just come of age, remained in Suihua City.

It was easy to imagine how smoothly Liu Jitan had sailed along this path, his position as Crown Prince unshakable. Only, such an heir was far inferior to his father and grandfather in strategic vision and toughness. In contrast, he carried more gentleness, even weakness.

Of course, only such a weak Crown Prince could sit securely for twenty years. Had he been someone of impatient, hard-line temperament, given Liu Wenyuan's fierce nature, father and son drawing swords on each other would not have been out of the question.

Beyond that, it also related to the national policy of Andong under Liu Wenyuan's rule. For thirty-six years, Liu Wenyuan had sat guarding the royal city, gazing toward the imperial capital, keeping his mind calm, lying low and biding his time, awaiting the right moment. Most of his thoughts and energy were devoted to Andong's strengthening—especially the expansion of its military power.

One should know that compared to the days when the late king Liu Xu was alive, Andong's military strength had increased by at least three to four times. This was also the fundamental reason why social contradictions and class pressures within Andong were far more severe than in Liu Xu's era. Maintaining a massive standing army year-round was a tremendous strain on Andong's national strength. Unable to expand outward, the only option was to squeeze inward.

Under such circumstances, how could Liu Wenyuan permit Andong's meager national resources to be consumed in pointless succession struggles? He wished he could bind all of Andong to his war chariot, focusing everyone's minds on developing production and enhancing national strength. This also led to extremely tense relations between Liu Wenyuan and his sons—bordering on hostility.

"Your Highness, the riverbank wind is cold and harsh, not good for your health. Please return to the palace!" A call pulled the self-absorbed Liu Wenyuan back to his senses.

Beside the royal carriage stood, apart from a contingent of stalwart guards, two ministers: the Marquis of Ding, Geng Shoujie, and the Marquis of Jing, Bai Yuankang. Beyond the royal house, the Kingdom of Andong had three great clans, also three great consort families—the Geng, Bai, and Liu clans—descended respectively from Liu Xu's maternal family, his wife's family, and Liu Wenyuan's wife's family.

Over decades of development, the Geng, Bai, and Liu clans had become the most elite power-holders in the Kingdom of Andong, the core of its ruling structure, the three-horse chariot by which the royal house governed the state.

Of course, given the temperaments and methods of Liu Xu and his son, if the three clans had relied merely on their status as consort relatives, they clearly could not have reached their current heights in Andong. Over the decades, the three great clans had supplied a great many talents for Andong's development and the consolidation of royal power.

That Andong enjoyed its present vigor was in no small part thanks to the three great clans, which had become an unavoidable topic in Andong's military and political affairs. Of course, Liu Xu and his son had also given the best returns—at the very least, the clans could share in the state's fortunes and misfortunes.

To be frank, Liu Wenyuan had indeed suppressed the three great clans, especially in recent years. Many of the older generation of civil and military figures from the three clans had either been forced into retirement or relegated to secondary positions, simply because he felt the clans were somewhat obstructing royal authority. He himself did not mind, but he had to consider his descendants.

However, after the Jurchen rebellion, he had changed course, restored trust, and re-employed the three great clans. The Geng Shoujie and Bai Yuankang accompanying him now were the current clan heads of their respective families, both under fifty, in the prime of their years.

The one who had spoken up was Geng Shoujie. Liu Wenyuan did not respond immediately, and then Bai Yuankang bowed with clasped hands and added: "We beg Your Highness to put your health first!"

Whether their words came from the heart or were mere courtesy could not be discerned, but seeing that both wore solemn, serious expressions, Liu Wenyuan finally spoke. Raising his withered right hand, he pointed toward the Yazi River and said in a hoarse voice: "Such a river, such winter scenery—each look is one fewer. What does a bit of wind matter?"

"Your Highness..."

"Come to think of it, I have spent a full fifty years in Andong, crossing the Yazi River countless times, yet never have I observed or appreciated this river so carefully and seriously. This is my failing—this is the river that has nourished the million people of Andong..." Liu Wenyuan suddenly gave voice to such reflections.

After a brief pause, Liu Wenyuan raised his voice and turned to give an order: "Transmit my royal decree: from this day forth, rename the Yazi River the Hundong River. Every year at the earth-god sacrifice, officers and men shall together worship the River God!"

"Yes! Your ministers obey Your Highness's command!" Geng Shoujie and Bai Yuankang exchanged a glance and hastily bowed.

After giving the order, Liu Wenyuan looked up at the two ministers standing respectfully at his side. The might of an old tiger remained—his aged eyes made the two ministers uneasy, and both instinctively bent their waists lower.

"Does Your Highness have any further instructions?" Geng Shoujie asked cautiously.

Liu Wenyuan withdrew his gaze, let out a long white breath, and said in a low, distant tone: "As the legitimate heirs of the Geng and Bai clans, you have suffered much suppression from me. But over the years, my observation of you has never ceased. In the Jurchen rebellion, your conduct—yours and your clans'—did not disappoint me!"

Hearing Liu Wenyuan speak thus, both men sensed something unusual. Bai Yuankang immediately declared: "Your ministers have received the state's grace for generations, with no way to repay it save by exhausting our loyalty and sincerity..."

"Cough, cough!" Hearing their words, Liu Wenyuan laughed outright, unable to suppress a few coughs: "Save those hollow pleasantries for someone else. When the Crown Prince ascends the throne one day, go pledge your loyalty to him."

One sentence left the two men thoroughly embarrassed. After catching his breath, Liu Wenyuan continued in a grave tone: "The two of you are not far in age from the Crown Prince. You can support each other for another twenty years. Andong's next twenty years depend on your efforts!"

"Your Highness!" Faced with such an entrustment, both men's expressions changed at once. Whatever they thought inwardly, they had to display humility and loyalty on their faces.

Liu Wenyuan paid them no further heed. Coughing a few more times, he gave an order to the guard commander on the other side: "Let's return!"

"Yes!"

In the depths of winter, Suihua had become an ice city. The adornment of ice and snow lent this mighty city, built over fifty years, an added splendor. The permanent population of Suihua City now exceeded fifty thousand; adding the merchants and travelers staying in Andong, it comfortably surpassed sixty thousand.

Among the royal cities of the various vassal states of the Great Han Empire, Suihua ranked second only to Hezhong in Anxi and Jiaozhi in Annam. The wind rose and snow began to fall again. Under the shroud of flying snow, the entire city took on a darker cast. Yet the myriad household lights in this cold night brought a sense of peace and warmth.

As the royal city of Andong, Suihua's officials and people had far more abundant means of keeping warm. Besides traditional charcoal and firewood, coal from Liaodong was hauled north by merchants cartload after cartload to supply the noble households of Andong.

In the dark of night, having returned to the royal palace, Liu Wenyuan received the Marquis of Mo, Liu Shangyuan. His identity needed no elaboration—though of a cadet branch, he was a direct descendant of the empire's Marquis of Haining family. At the same time, he was the commander of Suihua's city guard, controlling half of the city's troops.

After lying dormant for about two months, the Prince of Andong had begun to act frequently again, and with such conspicuous unusual movements. Naturally, this stirred the hearts of all in Andong, high and low. Clearly, this cold winter in Suihua City would not be peaceful.

After returning from Luoyang to Suihua, Liu Wenyuan had in fact not been idle over the past year. He had done many things, issuing numerous military and administrative decrees. Summed up, they fell into three main areas.

First, naturally, was the further suppression of the barbarian tribes under Andong's rule. The negative effects of the Jurchen rebellion were not so easily eliminated entirely. The great chaos had ceased, but small disturbances continued unabated; the long war of pacification was still ongoing.

Second was Andong's post-war recovery. Liu Wenyuan vigorously adjusted the "military state" policy that had persisted for decades, and the force of his course reversal was considerable. Reforms always met great resistance, but Liu Wenyuan's reforms went smoothly—truly because they conformed to popular sentiment and the times.

Third, and the most important matter in the great policy overhaul: military reduction! During the great Jurchen rebellion, Andong had nearly carried out a total mobilization. Regular troops, auxiliary soldiers, and militia combined exceeded one hundred thirty thousand. Even after the great chaos was pacified, the number remained at ninety thousand.

After Liu Wenyuan's round of reductions, the standing army was kept at only thirty thousand. For the Kingdom of Andong, this was clearly an unprecedented upheaval. With the burden of fifty thousand standing troops lifted, the soldiers and people of all Andong could breathe a sigh of relief.

At the same time, the court's wariness and precautions could be further reduced. Clearly, after the Jurchen rebellion, the Prince of Andong, Liu Wenyuan, had undergone a "great awakening."

Military reduction was a difficult and dangerous affair. One misstep could spark an uprising. Fortunately, despite countless points worthy of criticism, Liu Wenyuan remained highly effective in his control of the army.

And this matter was clearly of enormous benefit to the empire's development, and only with Liu Wenyuan driving it forward could it succeed. At the same time, the Jurchen rebellion had caused a certain redistribution of social wealth, giving the Andong royal court sufficient resources to buy off and appease the demobilized officers and soldiers.

The series of actions all pointed to one thing: Liu Wenyuan was considering Andong's future development. The realities of the situation forced him to abandon decades of obsession and delusion, to set his sights on a longer time horizon, and to place his hopes on his descendants...

And as his audiences with Andong's nobles and loyal ministers grew increasingly frequent, many could see that this was the Prince entrusting his final affairs. Andong was about to change!

Almost counting the days, as the ninth year of Jianlong was about to arrive, the Crown Prince of Andong, Liu Jitan, was summoned to the bedchamber for a private father-son talk.

The dimness of the chamber could no longer be dispelled by two rows of oil lamps. Liu Wenyuan, lying on the heated kang, had lost all his former dominance and edge. This time, he truly resembled a sick tiger that had lost its fangs.

Looking at the Crown Prince Liu Jitan kneeling before the couch, eyes red and brimming with tears, Liu Wenyuan could not help but scold: "What are you crying for? I'm not dead yet!"

One sentence immediately made Liu Jitan put away his mournful demeanor. He wiped his tears forcefully and listened attentively to his father's instruction.

And Liu Wenyuan made his final speech in life: "When I was a child, I followed the late king eastward. For twenty years I braved wind and rain, toiling painstakingly, before I built the state of Andong. The late king's virtue and achievements — I could not hope to match them even in a lifetime.

Since the twenty-eighth year of Kaibao, when I formally succeeded to the throne, I have ruled the state for thirty-six years. I consider myself diligent, never negligent, yet I have bestowed no grace upon the people, causing resentment from top to bottom. This is my fault. After you succeed to the throne, you must take this as a warning — treat your ministers and subjects well, and nurture the common folk!

I know you have no great talent, but if you accomplish these two things, it will be enough to secure the throne and pass on our state's legacy. Andong cannot withstand a second Liu Wenyuan..."

"Father—"

"Let me finish!" Liu Wenyuan's voice was not loud, but it conveyed ample displeasure at being interrupted. Liu Jitan was so frightened he immediately fell silent: "The late king's enterprise — hold it fast. Perhaps you will accomplish nothing, and perhaps your son will accomplish nothing either, but your son has sons of his own!"

At this point, Liu Wenyuan paused, then pointed at an earthen jar placed on the side table, staring fixedly at Liu Jitan, his voice trembling: "Last year, when I returned north from Luoyang, I brought back a jar of soil. After I die, offer it in the ancestral temple, and pass it down to future generations. Every king of Andong must take as his duty the continuation of the late king's enterprise, and as his mission the late king's will..."

"Your son will remember your teachings!" Meeting his royal father's gaze, Liu Jitan could no longer hold back his tears and burst into loud weeping.

"Withdraw!" The speech had clearly cost him great energy. Liu Wenyuan slowly lay back down and waved his hand feebly.

Having finished his instructions, Liu Wenyuan's whole body collapsed, as if the taut string in his heart had snapped. Gazing at the sturdy ceiling, he murmured to himself: "Prepared for a lifetime, waited for a lifetime, and in the end wasted a lifetime. Ridiculous! Ridiculous..."

As he said this, two strands of tears — tears that had not appeared in thirty-six years — seeped from the corners of Liu Wenyuan's eyes: "Father, your unfilial son, your incompetent son, in the end still disappointed you..."

Liu Wenyuan ultimately could not survive past the eighth year of Jianlong. On the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth month of that winter, he passed away in Suihua City, aged sixty, having reigned thirty-six years. His posthumous title was Wu.