Chapter 276: The Northern Flight

In late June, the "White Tiger Watchtower" on the west side of Shoucheng Hall was opened, and cart after cart trundled out carrying goods. Soldiers from a brother unit guarding this gate saw their wheels groaning under the weight and came over to greet them.

"What's all this — silks? Vessels?"

Then they noticed the fully armed escort and the carts covered with hemp cloth and even rainproof cured oxhide, which only deepened their curiosity. "It can't be gold cakes, can it!"

No one knew when Diwu Lun had moved the several hundred thousand gold cakes remaining in the palace, or where he had taken them. In any case, everyone was saying: Wang Mang stumbles, Diwu stuffs himself. The Grand General had gold to spare now; it all depended on whether his men were willing to risk their lives for merit.

Just then, one cart's wheel broke and it tipped over, spilling its load. The soldiers hurried over, only to find bundles of ancient bamboo slips scattered on the ground. Picking one up, they found it had some heft. So all those horses, carts, and manpower had been spent just to move books?

The men assigned to guard this place had seen the scale of activity over the past few days and guessed that the Grand General was pulling out. But were the palace vessels not pleasing to the eye, or the grain in the Great Granary not good to eat? Why leave so many fine things behind and haul away these bamboo tablets, which the soldiers could neither use nor eat and could not even read? What was the point?

But the few soldiers who had picked up the slips and were about to untie them to look inside were stopped by a centurion's barked order: "The Grand General's command — if a single scroll of this goes missing, I lose one rank. If I've no rank left to lose, I'm off to Wei North to till the fields! Lose ten scrolls and it's execution on the spot. Are you trying to get me killed? Put them back, now!"

The soldiers clicked their tongues in dismay and hastily tossed them back onto the cart.

Wang Long, who had just rushed back from outside the city, watched this scene with considerable astonishment.

Ever since he had urged his uncle Wang Yuan to answer Diwu Lun's call, Wang Long had been dispatched on a mission to Beidi Commandery, where he made contact with Yuan She, who controlled the area, and the prominent local Fu and Gan clans, and delivered the letters Diwu Lun and Wan Xiu had written to Yuan She.

Now he had hurried back, only to find everything looking like a withdrawal. What was going on? He quickly asked the centurion, "Where are these books being moved from, and where are they going?"

"From the palace, bound for Wei North!"

The departure point for these carts laden with bamboo manuscripts was the Qilin Pavilion, the Shiqu Pavilion, and the Tianlu Pavilion. Situated in the northwest corner of Shoucheng Hall in a triangular formation, they together constituted the Han dynasty's national library.

The Qilin Pavilion stored court documents, maps, and portraits of meritorious officials — something like an archive. The Shiqu Pavilion was primarily used for debating the classics, a place for the Erudites of the Five Classics to discuss scholarship. The Tianlu Pavilion, meanwhile, was dedicated solely to the collection of books.

Diwu Lun came in person to the Tianlu Pavilion to supervise the soldiers moving the books — he even carried a few himself. This was not for show, but because this particular library was somewhat special.

The pavilion was several dozen paces around and a hundred feet high. Every time Diwu Lun looked up, he would remember how old Yang Xiong, when he was still alive, had casually mentioned that back when he was hunted by the Master of Fates of the Five Majesties and thought he would not survive, he had leaped from this pavilion to avoid humiliation.

In the end, he did not die, but his leg was broken. A scholar's dignity, shattered on the ground.

Earlier that month, Diwu Lun had ordered Chen Chong thrown from the top of the pavilion, over and over. At the time it had felt like venting his anger; now, thinking back, he realized it had truly been unnecessary. "Instead, I let that wretch's blood defile this hall of learning, into which my teacher once poured his heart and soul. That was my fault!"

The men Diwu Lun had chosen to oversee the three pavilions included, besides Diba Jiao, an unexpected figure: his old superior Liangqiu Ci, who had been so terrified by his rebellion at Hongmen that he had prostrated himself in submission.

As a commander, the man was rather mediocre, but he proved an able hand at managing cultural matters — and no wonder, since the Liangqiu clan had always been a family of classical learning. Liangqiu Ci had even nearly made Erudite of the Five Classics in the palace.

"It was here that Liu Xiang, Colonel of the Central Ramparts, and his son Liu Xin collated the books. The various texts are all properly sorted; they can be moved out in order, one by one."

The Han dynasty's investment in cultural enterprises had been immense. Emperor Wu of Han ostensibly revered only Confucianism, yet he still valued the works of the various masters, broadly opening avenues for the submission of books, establishing policies for their collection, and appointing officials to copy them, so that all texts, down to the traditions and tales of the various masters, filled the imperial repositories. By the time of the Yuandi and Chengdi eras, the emperors, however inept at statecraft, were all lovers of books, seeking out lost texts throughout the realm and assigning personnel to classify and organize them.

The Liangqiu clan had also taken part in this work, so Liangqiu Ci recounted it all in detail: "Liu Xiang collated the classics, commentaries, various prose works, poetry, and rhapsodies. Ren Hong, Colonel of Infantry, collated the military texts...

"For each book collated, Liu Xiang would lay out the table of contents, correct errors, and write a summary."

"After Liu Xiang's death, his son Liu Xin was ordered to carry on his father's work. He collated, classified, and catalogued the books collected since the end of Qin, producing definitive editions. He divided them into seven sections: the General Overview, the Six Arts, the Various Masters, Poetry and Rhapsodies, Military Texts, Numerology and Techniques, and Recipes and Methods — hence the name 'Seven Summaries.' It comprised 33,090 scrolls in total. During Wang Mang's reign, another call for books was issued, and Master Ziyun collated them, bringing the total to precisely 45,555 scrolls, collectively titled the 'Separate Record.'"

From the time of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors onward — the Hundred Schools of Thought, medicine, arts, and techniques — the knowledge and culture of China over several millennia were concentrated in these forty-thousand-odd scrolls.

No wonder Liu Xin and Yang Xiong were not only thoroughly versed in the Five Classics, rhapsodies, and poetry, but also in astronomy, geography, miscellaneous arts, and regional dialects — truly encyclopedic scholars in every sense. They had been absorbing nourishment all the while they collated the books, and it was from this that works like the 'Classic of Mountains and Seas' and the 'Regional Words' were born.

The 'Seven Summaries' and 'Separate Record,' which were merely catalogues, already filled half a cart, to say nothing of the actual texts. It would take at least a hundred carts making five trips to move all this knowledge — enough to fill a building to the rafters and make the oxen and horses sweat just to haul it.

Leafing through the 'Seven Summaries,' Diwu Lun could not help silently lamenting the fates of those two old men. "If only you two had contentedly devoted your lives to scholarship in this pavilion, and never touched politics."

Yang Xiong's achievements might have been even greater than they were now, and Liu Xin would not have become a laughingstock — a scholarly public intellectual who ruined his legacy by dabbling in statecraft.

By the end, Yang Xiong had finally seen the light, but Liu Xin — he was still in the dark!

Liu Xin was not the only one in the dark. So was Wang Long, who had just rushed in from outside the city.

"General, what exactly is your intention in moving the books out of the city?"

"Wenshan, the situation is dire." Diwu Lun sighed heavily. "I failed to seize the passes, turning Guanzhong into a battleground open on all sides. Shangyu to the southeast, Shiyu to the northeast — both are wide-open gateways. And I only have enough troops to focus on one front. I chose to strike at Tian Kuang and seize Hexi, but Kong Ren at Shangyu and the Commandant of Wu Pass have actually surrendered to the Green Han."

By "Green Han," he meant the Greenwood Han. Diwu Lun, sharing a tacit understanding with Fang Wang, had adopted the same term.

"The Greenwood Army has already won a great battle at Kunyang, and Wancheng may well have fallen. Their morale is soaring, and they could send troops into the pass at any time. My army has been fighting continuously for a full month and is utterly exhausted, while the great clans south of the Wei are watching with unpredictable intentions. I expect Chang'an will soon face a bloody battle! I am not confident of victory."

Diwu Lun pointed at the cartloads of bamboo slips rolling out. "I know what worries you, Wenshan. These are the fruits of labor that our master once helped collate. To you and me, to any scholar, they are priceless treasures. But to the Greenwood bandits, they are not worth a single coin. They might use them for kindling, repeating Xiang Yu's blunder of burning the Qin palaces. If I sat by and let that tragedy happen, I would be a sinner for all eternity!"

"That being the case, it is better to move them somewhere safe, far from the ravages of war. If you are willing, Wenshan, I shall entrust this matter to you and General Liangqiu to manage!"

Led along by Diwu Lun's reasoning, Wang Long found himself nodding before he knew it. "I will certainly protect the books."

Diwu Lun's purpose went beyond merely preserving cultural texts from destruction. For him, these forty-thousand-odd scrolls also held a very practical function.

"To the scholars of this age, who thirst for books as a man dying of thirst craves water, wherever the books are, that is where their hearts — and their goals — will be!"

The Tianlu Pavilion was emptied first, followed by the Shiqu Pavilion. On the third day, it was the Qilin Pavilion's turn. This one mainly held documents and maps. Diwu Lun also went to take a look, and on the top floor he saw portrait after portrait of meritorious officials.

Founding heroes like Xiao He and Zhang Liang, and Emperor Wu's champions like Wei Qing and Huo Qubing, all had their portraits. Diwu Lun was struck by Zhang Liang's almost feminine features and Huo Qubing's youth, but the most complete set was the eleven portraits of meritorious officials from Emperor Xuan's Qilin Pavilion.

The only ones Diwu Lun recognized were Huo Guang, ranked first, and Su Wu, ranked last. He had never even heard the names of the others before he crossed over! Among them was Liangqiu Ci's great-grandfather, Liangqiu He, ranked ninth.

"The late grand master was thoroughly versed in the 'Book of Changes' and skilled in divination. He foresaw that the remnants of the Huo clan intended to assassinate Emperor Xuan..."

That was it? Diwu Lun shook his head. Emperor Xuan's list of meritorious officials was a bit watered down!

After looking them over, Diwu Lun ordered the portraits rolled up and taken away as well. The palace's sundry pots and jars could be left behind for the next master to enjoy, but from these three pavilions alone, he would not leave so much as a single bamboo slip!

Once he had descended the tower, a group of his subordinates came to report on the withdrawal arrangements. Diwu Lun, however, looked back at the Qilin Pavilion and said something laden with meaning: "I only wonder, if there were to be another Qilin Pavilion in this present age, who would be ranked first in merit?"

Men like the Seventh Biao were mostly rough fellows and did not quite catch his drift. Liangqiu Ci understood, but given his status and ability, he dared not entertain the thought.

Ren Guang, however, grasped Diwu Lun's meaning and engraved those words deeply in his heart!

After dealing with this matter, the next place Diwu Lun went was Changle Palace.

It was not only books that had to be moved.

There were also people!

Since the early Han, Changle Palace had served as the Empress Dowager's residence. Because Wang Mang disliked the characters for "long" and "palace," he had renamed it the Chamber of Constant Joy.

This place was far larger than the Mingguang Palace where Wang Yan had lived for over a decade. She had moved here more than ten days ago, but her range of activity was confined to the Changxin Hall within it. In these troubled times, it was better to stay secluded and rarely venture out.

After changing residences and learning that the chaos outside had subsided and that Diwu Lun's army discipline was passable, she had dismissed many of the palace maids whose families were in Guanzhong, sending them home to reunite with their parents — if their parents still lived. Her own family was destroyed and she was utterly alone, but they did not have to share her fate.

This only made the deep palace feel even more desolate and lonely. So when Wang Yan once again received a visit from Yin Lihua and saw that she was unharmed, her heart was truly gladdened.

Yin Lihua said, "General Diwu has treated this lowly handmaiden with considerable courtesy. I lack for neither food nor clothing, and he even sent men to find my lost younger brother Yin Xing and allowed me to write a letter to Nanyang."

But in her heart she also harbored a hidden worry: Diwu Lun had only spoken of letting Liu Xiu come to the capital for "husband and wife reunion," yet he had said nothing about sending her back. Word was spreading outside that the Greenwood had won a great victory over the Xin army, and Diwu Lun's treatment of her had grown a shade more generous.

Yin Lihua had no energy left to fret over herself; she still thought of Wang Yan's kindness to her. Lately Diwu Lun had shown every sign of pulling out of Chang'an, so Yin Lihua requested permission to enter the palace and pay her respects, and permission was granted.

Wang Yan looked at Yin Lihua in her splendid attire. Compared to when she had been a little maidservant, she now seemed radiant, and Wang Yan could not help but secretly admire her. When she also learned that Diwu Lun had visited Yin Lihua only once, and had been most scrupulous in observing propriety, she even breathed a sigh of relief.

She had thought Diwu Lun harbored improper designs on Yin Lihua! Could it be that she had been measuring a gentleman's heart with her own petty mind?

"You and I are no longer mistress and servant; there is no need to speak so stiffly."

Wang Yan rarely had anyone to talk to, so she pointed at the vast Changle Palace: "Changle — 'lasting joy.' Yet how many of the empresses dowager who have dwelt here have ever been joyful?"

"Lihua, do you know which empress dowager of the past I most resemble?"

Yin Lihua did not know much about the old stories of the palace and shook her head, ignorant.

"One is Empress Zhang of Filial Hui." Wang Yan gave a bitter smile. That Zhang Yan was Empress Dowager Lü's granddaughter by her daughter — a double bond of kinship — and was married to Emperor Hui of Han. But she bore no son and could only adopt the child of a concubine. The first was poisoned by Empress Dowager Lü for speaking recklessly, and the second was denounced as a bastard by the "loyal ministers" Zhou Bo and Chen Ping and was put to death!

After Emperor Wen of Han entered Chang'an, Zhang Yan was spared execution, but she was confined for a long time in the Northern Palace, and thus she passed seventeen years in utter silence.

"The other is Empress Dowager Shangguan of Filial Zhao."

This empress dowager was closer to the present day and rather more famous. As Huo Guang's granddaughter by his daughter, she too entered the palace as a child, had no issue, and was used by Huo Guang as a tool to depose the Prince of Changyi and enthrone Emperor Xuan of Han. And when the Huo clan was exterminated, she too was left to languish, trapped deep in the palace. But she was rather long-lived; she even outlasted Emperor Xuan of Han and lived on into the reign of Emperor Yuan of Han.

Wang Yan sometimes thought: if her father Wang Mang had been able to restrain himself from usurping the throne, and had properly assisted the child Ying from the start, his achievements would have been equal to Huo Guang's — perhaps even greater!

But now, her own position was even more awkward than those of the two empresses Zhang and Shangguan. Living in this age of chaos, she would lie down at night with no idea at all what would happen the next day.

"Serving and nurturing in the Eastern Palace, entrusted to the farthest reaches of Changxin. Together we sweep and sprinkle within the curtained chambers, till death everlasting be our term."

Wang Yan murmured this poem by Consort Ban. The days in Changle Palace had been settled for only a short while, and now, from what Yin Lihua said, turmoil seemed to be brewing outside once more. Perhaps when Wang Mang had left, taking poison and ending it all would have been best. But that day she too had raised the poison, yet she could not bring herself to pour it down her throat. Perhaps in her heart, a sliver of illusion still lingered.

Yin Lihua listened in silence. She herself was already pitiable enough; seen in this light, the Empress Dowager was no different.

And on this very day, Wang Yan's fears became reality.

Yin Lihua had not yet left the palace when the gates of Changle were thrown open. Diwu Lun entered, clad in martial attire, armor on his back, and bowed to Wang Yan, who clenched her fists nervously yet still forced her face to remain composed and dignified.

"Roving bandits and rebels are about to enter Wu Pass. South of the Wei, Chang'an may fall into great chaos."

"I venture to request that the Empress Dowager journey north!"

This time, he did not call himself "your subject"!

…

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