Chapter 330: The Southern Tang Envoy 2

"The Han court's halls, its ministers and grandees—we can hardly glimpse a fraction of them. All we can do is wander these market streets and alleyways, taking in the local customs!" Han Xizai spoke with a sidelong glance at the deputy envoy, as if explaining himself, that air of arrogance about him quite discomforting.

The deputy envoy's face twitched. He had suffered no small amount of Han Xizai's haughtiness on this journey; were he not burdened with the "mission" of surveillance and observation, he would rather not accompany this man at all, preferring to stay in the guest hostel.

He drank a cup of wine glumly, drinking too fast—his throat burned fiercely, and he nearly spat it out. Only after some effort did he recover, complaining: "Northern wine simply isn't as sweet and mellow as ours in the south!"

He returned Han Xizai's sidelong glance with one of his own: "What is there to observe in these markets of Kaifeng? The comings and goings of people are fewer than in Jinling, the merchants and trades less thriving than in Jinling, the hearts and customs of the people less settled than in Jinling—and as for culture and ritual refinement, the gap compared to Jinling is like the distance between clouds and mud..."

This deputy envoy's words were filled with pride in Jinling and contempt for Kaifeng—a disdain born from the depths of his heart, as if Kaifeng were truly that unworthy.

Hearing this, Han Xizai's expression turned displeased, and he said in a flat tone: "You must understand, the Great Tang, through the late Ancestor and the present sovereign's two generations of over twenty years of management—protecting our borders and comforting the people—has only now achieved the Great Tang's strength and Jinling's prosperity. But the north has seen frequent warfare, unceasing year after year, with fierce barbarians ravaging freely. The Liu clan has only been established for two years—that Kaifeng has achieved even this modest order is already quite remarkable!"

"This Han emperor in Kaifeng may be said to have assumed his charge in a time of crisis. He has been on the throne barely a year, and though young in years, he has stabilized that complex situation, steadied the court and the army, reined in meritorious veterans and famed generals—repelling the Later Shu, pacifying internal rebellion, resisting the Khitan, suppressing bandits and comforting the people—and has further undertaken the rectification of court discipline and the training of the military..." Han Xizai's face showed worry, his sigh deep: "Every move he makes advances steadily. It is not a fierce and cruel master of the Central Plains one fears, but one who is composed and unhurried. The Northern Han will sooner or later become our great enemy!"

"Lord Han overrates the Northern Han!" The deputy envoy clearly disagreed: "Just by strolling idly through these markets of Kaifeng, you heap such praise on the Han emperor and declare him a formidable foe of our Great Tang—isn't that far too frivolous!"

Before Han Xizai could speak, the deputy envoy continued: "They say this young Son of Heaven of the Northern Han is a wise ruler, accomplished in both letters and arms—that two years ago he broke several hundred thousand Khitan with a few thousand troops, slew the Khitan ruler, and recovered Youzhou—ha!"

"True or false, let's set him aside. Even if this Han Son of Heaven is truly wise, so what? In the north, states rise and fall, thrones change hands so frequently. Now that the Northern Han has seized the deer, whether it can hold its state for long is itself a question. Li Cunxu, Li Siyuan, Shi Jingtang—all were men who founded dynasties and became ancestors, heroes of their time. But where are they now? Long since turned to a handful of yellow earth!"

Listening to his grand discourse, there was some reason in it. In fact, over the past few decades, from Yang Wu to the Southern Tang, only in Yang Xingmi's later years had there been any hard clashes with the Zhu Liang of the Central Plains; in other periods, they had mostly contended with the various states in the shallow waters of the south. Though they watched the shifting winds and clouds of the north, it was more as bystanders, watching a play.

Having watched this play so much, observing for decades as the heroes of the Central Plains fought and killed each other, a stubborn arrogance had gradually grown. As a Central Plains scholar who had crossed south, Han Xizai felt this keenly and was not surprised by the deputy envoy's views. Within the Southern Tang, quite a few officials were already wagering on the Great Han's national fortune, debating how long it could hold its state.

The general consensus was pessimistic—at first they thought it might last five or six years; when Liu Zhiyuan died, some suggested two or three; after Liu Chengyou succeeded and made his mark, the estimates lengthened somewhat, but still most thought it could not exceed ten years...

Han Xizai himself, in earlier times, had not regarded the Han as a great enemy—he had even urged Li Jing to send troops and fulfill his grand ambitions. But after coming north this time, observing along the way, his heart had grown suddenly heavy with worry. If the sovereign and ministers of the Great Tang still harbored such attitudes, they would sooner or later suffer a great loss.

Though the Great Han still had the crudeness of a newborn state—many ugly things, suffering commoners, fierce and brutal officials and soldiers, a strapped government—a word called "order" had gradually shifted from vague to concrete. The Han court had basically maintained its rule over the Central Plains, and the authority of the central government over the regions was initially established.

These things, with his naked eyes and his experience, Han Xizai could observe. Come to think of it, he had crossed south over twenty years ago, but he had truly witnessed the darkness and chaos of the Central Plains back then. That year, disguised and fleeing south, running for his life—that misery was still vivid before his eyes. Comparing the two, the Great Han of today, though its wounds were not yet healed, was far more settled than twenty years ago.

Though his heart held concerns, Han Xizai had no intention of arguing with the deputy envoy now. They traveled the same road but not with the same heart—he even felt that wasting words on this man was superfluous.

Though Han Xizai said nothing, that genuine disdain from the depths of his heart still stung the deputy envoy. Unable to bear his aloof pride, the deputy envoy retorted with a belly full of resentment: "What, Lord Han thinks what I said is unreasonable?"

"No! Your analysis is quite reasonable, hitting the mark precisely—few in the world possess such insight!" Han Xizai praised him, but that tone of effortless superiority in his plain delivery made it better left unsaid.

Taking a deep breath—though they were in a private room, the noise of the tavern kept seeping through the doors and windows—the deputy envoy suddenly felt his mood more irritated than ever. Impatiently he said: "Lord Han, better to think hard about how to accomplish our mission in coming north, rather than making these inexplicable lamentations and alarmist talk here!"

Han Xizai smiled, and said very calmly: "The Han emperor does not wish to receive us—can you and I force our way in?"

Irritated by Han Xizai's easy composure and self-satisfied bearing, the deputy envoy said urgently: "If the Han emperor won't see us for a year, are we to wait here a whole year?"

"If you are impatient, you may return south on your own!" Han Xizai said.

The deputy envoy fell silent.

Seeing this, Han Xizai became somewhat more serious, and said: "For you and me to accomplish our mission this time, I fear it will not be so simple!"

"How so?" The deputy envoy looked at Han Xizai. Though in the eyes of southern scholars like himself, Han Xizai was arrogant and self-important, no one had ever disparaged his insight and ability.

Han Xizai explained in a low, measured voice: "From the Han emperor's ignoring us, one can see that he likely harbors hostile intentions toward our court. In this time, you and I have called upon all the Han court's senior ministers, yet none would receive us—we cannot even deliver our gifts. Why is this? Whether it is by the Han emperor's express order or the Han ministers divining their sovereign's intent, neither bodes well!"

Hearing this, the deputy envoy grew tense: "If that is so, what are we to do? If our mission fails, how will we answer to His Majesty upon our return?"

Han Xizai smiled but did not respond, making the deputy envoy wish he could bite him.

He rose, walked to the window, and gazed out at the cityscape of the Eastern Capital, lost in thought. Han Xizai's heart frowned slightly. This journey north, the mission was not as difficult as the Tang sovereign and his ministers had imagined. They had come bearing goodwill, and the Han emperor was a clever man—if the two states established friendly relations, the benefits to the Han state would clearly be greater.

As he pondered, Han Xizai thought again of his recent dealings with the courtiers of this Eastern Capital—all had shut their doors to him. From what he had heard, the Great Han's ministers were mostly greedy and base, yet this time, they had all held the line together.

He did not believe these men's greed had diminished. Even if only regarding this matter—when a pack of greedy, base men could restrain their desires and govern their conduct—that was what truly merited deep thought.

Over twenty years ago, Gao Jixing, the Prince of Nanping, personally went to Luoyang to pay homage to Li Cunxu. Observing the Later Tang court's chaos and neglected governance, he returned south at ease and content, declaring plainly that he had no worries about the northern Tang.

Han Xizai, sent north on this mission, had not yet even seen Liu Chengyou, yet his heart was already heavy beyond words.