Chapter 350: In Years to Come, If I Am the Blue Emperor

The winter rain in Wu County, Gusu, fell like mournful, miserable tears, a bone-deep cold that seemed even more biting than the north. For Liu Xiu, who wore mourning hemp and had already kept three nights' vigil for his dead elder brother, this was probably the harshest twelfth month he had ever endured.

At first, Liu Xiu had refused absolutely to believe it. "My elder brother Bosheng has a valor that ten thousand men cannot match. Only he breaks the enemy and slays men — how could anyone cut him down?"

But facts were facts, and however much Liu Xiu resisted, he had to accept them.

Scenes from the past rose one after another before his eyes. Come to think of it, both he and his elder brother had been born in the twelfth month. Liu Bosheng was born while Emperor Cheng of Han reigned, and Liu Xiu was born on the sixth day of the twelfth month in the first year of Jianping under Emperor Ai of Han. Their father was then County Magistrate of Jiyang County in Chenliu Commandery, later transferred to Nandun County in Runan Commandery, and died at his post when Liu Xiu was just eight.

From then on, the brothers and sisters had clung to one another for survival. Liu Bosheng and he shared the same mother, and the eldest brother was truly like a father. Bold and resolute by nature, generous and of great integrity, Bosheng had relied on making friends with heroes to revive the declining fame of their branch line and become the foremost figure of the Chongling Liu clan.

That elder brother had always been the person Liu Xiu admired and aimed to emulate. As children, they played together and Liu Xiu followed him in practicing martial arts. A little older, he listened to his brother converse with guests, saw how often they burned with indignation and harbored thoughts of restoring the altars of the realm — it was then that the idea of "restoring the Han" was first planted in Liu Xiu's heart.

After reaching adulthood, the two brothers threw themselves into the cause of restoring the Han. Liu Xiu's sense of his own role was to be like "Liu Jiao, King Yuan of Chu" — a supporting wing, nothing more — hoping to use his own strengths to help his elder brother achieve the great enterprise, and after victory to become Bearer of the Gilded Mace, content to be a regional lord.

Even after Kunyang, when his ambitions suddenly swelled and he gathered a group of men from Wan and Ying, he had only thought of picking up the "campaign through the Jianghuai" plan that he had proposed to Liu Bosheng but his brother had rejected — to build a career in the southeast, and someday, with his brother in the west and himself in the east, join forces on the Central Plains.

Who could have foreseen that his elder brother's enterprise would be cut short halfway, that he would die on the road?

He had bitterly remonstrated with Liu Bosheng: "Do not enter the Pass!" He had said it more than three times. Inside the Pass was Diwu Lun, a formidable opponent. Liu Xiu had imagined that if his brother insisted on having his way, the outcome would not go smoothly — but how could it have led directly to his death?

He heard that Bosheng died still standing, that his body bore over ten wounds, that he used his short sword to take his own life, and that Diwu Lun buried him with the rites of a general…

None of that mattered. To Liu Xiu, what mattered was that the elder brother who had always stood before him, shielding him from wind and rain, had fallen. It was as if something was missing from his heart; from his very soul to his flesh, everything ached.

The news was brought by a Chongling kinsman, Liu Zhong, who also delivered a final letter. It had traveled from the Pass through Hanzhong, then to Nanyang, across Liang and Chu — autumn gone, winter come, spring nearly arriving — before reaching him with such difficulty.

Liu Xiu delayed opening it for a long time, until three days later, famished for so long, having nearly slipped into stupor again and again, his brother's towering frame blurring before his eyes.

He could hold out no longer and at last reached for the sealed tablet, murmuring, "The handwriting is still so ugly. It truly makes one disbelieve that you too once spent time at the Imperial Academy."

As he read the letter, tears fell again, beyond his control.

"Wenshu is by nature diligent in sowing and reaping, while I love the knight-errant's way and keep retainers. That is why I once mocked you for tending fields and estates, like Liu Zhong, elder brother of the Exalted Emperor — unlikely to achieve great things."

"Yet your brother also knows: Wenshu is in truth a man of stature under Heaven!"

That elder brother who had never been willing to yield, who would rather die than not stand, for the first time in his life apologized to Liu Xiu. Before setting out to battle, he had had some premonition, and he also regretted not listening to his younger brother's words.

Liu Xiu suddenly grew quite furious — not at Diwu Lun, but at his own elder brother. "You always likened yourself to the Exalted Emperor. Did you not know that the Exalted Emperor also often lost to Xiang Yu, lost his family and wife, saw the Grand Emperor nearly boiled alive, and fled like a homeless cur? Yet in the end he could destroy Qin and vanquish Chu to win all under Heaven. A true man can bend and stretch. When there is no road ahead, could you not have taken one step back or gone around?"

But if he had done that, he would not have been Liu Bosheng.

After his anger subsided, Liu Xiu slumped wearily before the spirit tablet. Only after a long while did he stir, and said to Deng Yu, who was attending him, "I want to eat congee."

Deng Yu and the other aides were overjoyed. Though they too grieved, if Liu Xiu collapsed, what would become of their power, which had just begun to show promise? After they presented the millet congee, they watched Liu Xiu swallow it down with difficulty, bit by bit, and then, without a word, go off to sleep.

Liu Xiu slept for an entire day and night. When he rose, his first words were: "Bring the map."

Their maps could not compare with Diwu Lun's and were quite crude, but Deng Yu, consulting the charts and records stored in three commanderies, had at least roughly marked out the thirteen provinces and over a hundred commanderies. As for the misplacement of rivers, mountains, and terrain, they ignored it — who goes searching the streets with a world map in hand?

"How many commanderies are there in all under Heaven?" Liu Xiu's gaze swept across it. He found his homeland Nanyang, the Jingzhao where his brother had died in battle, and the Kuaiji where they now were.

Deng Yu said, "If counting by the time of Emperor Ping of Former Han, there were one hundred and three commanderies. Under Wang Mang, they increased to one hundred and twenty-five."

And what they held was, barely, two and a half commanderies: the powerful clans of Yue in southern Kuaiji governed themselves, beyond even the control of Lu Bo, Governor of Kuaiji, and Guangling was small.

Liu Xiu could only sigh with emotion. "So many commanderies and kingdoms under Heaven, and we have only just gained two. The King of Wei, the Gengshi Emperor, the Northern Han — each occupies a province at will. I alone am quite weak in power. Never mind comparing with Diwu Lun; even Li Xian or the King of Liang could raise a hand and wipe us out. Zhonghua, you once said that all under Heaven is not hard to settle. How so?"

Deng Yu bowed low. "Ever since the Xin dynasty of Wang Mang collapsed, the realm has been in chaos for half a year. The people have suffered bitterly from war and long for a wise sovereign, just as a newborn babe yearns for a loving mother. Tang founded an imperial enterprise from seventy li, and King Wen ruled the world from a hundred li. From this we know that in ancient times, those who built great enterprises depended on the depth of their virtue, not on the size of their territory!"

Liu Xiu nodded. He now knew what he himself must do.

"Carry on my elder brother's unfulfilled will."

No longer content to be a regional lord.

Liu Xiu raised his head and gazed out at the misty rain of the first month beyond the door, his eyes resolute. His ambition, shaped little by little under his brother's influence, had at last surfaced.

"Not just to restore the Han."

"What I shall revive is my own Great Han!"

…

In the second year of the King of Wei (AD 24), on the first day of the first month, Diwu Lun departed Chencang to return east. When he reached the confluence of the Qian and Wei rivers, Wang Long made a request: "Great King, one of the Five Altars of Yong is here. Shall we perform a sacrifice?"

"The Five Altars of Yong?" Diwu Lun was not very familiar with the complex sacrificial system.

As Superintendent of Ceremonial, Wang Long took his office seriously and naturally knew these Qin and Han sacrificial rites like the back of his hand. He simply said, "Several hundred years ago, Duke Wen of Qin traveled east, hunting between the Qian and Wei rivers. He dreamed of a white serpent descending from the sky to the ground, its mouth stopping at Fuyan Village. Duke Wen took this to be a god of the High Lord, and so he built the Fu Altar to sacrifice to the White Emperor, Shaohao."

Diwu Lun nodded, but did not say he would go. He only asked casually, "What must be used to sacrifice to the White Emperor?"

"A white tiger figurine."

"Where would one go to find such a thing?"

"Your servant has already prepared it." Wang Long was indeed a competent Superintendent of Ceremonial. Diwu Lun was immediately amused; it seemed today's sacrifice was not so simple after all.

Sure enough, Wang Long bowed low and said, "If Your Majesty goes to sacrifice to the White Emperor, the altars of the Son of Heaven use the Grand Sacrifice, while the altars of feudal lords use the Minor Sacrifice. Should we ultimately use the three beasts of the Grand Sacrifice, or the two beasts of the Minor Sacrifice?"

Wang Long was obliquely urging him to take the throne. Diwu Lun laughed heartily. "You, you — if you have something to say, say it plainly."

Wang Long had originally not harbored this thought; it was his uncle Wang Yuan who had reminded him on the eve of the western campaign. After encountering the local Su clan of Wugong County forging auspicious omens, Wang Long had also taken the matter to heart.

"Great King, you raised your cause at Hongmen and Wang Mang collapsed of his own accord. Later you defeated the Greenwood, and the Pass was pacified. Now you have also seized Hexi and Hedong, taken Right Fufeng, straddling provinces and holding territory, with a hundred thousand armored soldiers. In martial force, none dare oppose you; in civil virtue, none can fault you. Your servant has heard that the imperial throne cannot long remain vacant, and the Mandate of Heaven cannot be declined out of modesty. May the Great King take the altars of the realm as his concern, and the myriad people as his heart!"

In the view of Wang Long and his uncle, Diwu Lun had previously only called himself king in order to confuse the various Han claimants. But now that he had given the Greenwood a thorough beating and driven the Western Han back to Longyou, there was no need to keep up the pretense any longer.

Wang Long hoped Diwu Lun would become Emperor. "Today is the first day of the first month. The Great King may sacrifice at the Fu Altar, make offerings to the White Emperor, and succeed to the imperial throne, to receive the Virtue of Metal!"

That's right — the Virtue of Metal. This was what Wang Long, as Superintendent of Ceremonial, had concluded was Diwu Lun's inherent virtue after consulting numerous auspicious signs.

For instance, Wang Mang dreamed that five metal men stood up in Changle Palace, and on the twenty-eighth day of the fifth month, the planet Venus passed across the sky — these were all omens of the Virtue of Metal.

Yet Wang Long was not the only one urging him to take the throne, and views on what Diwu Lun's virtue was diverged dramatically.

Seeing that Wang Long had been the first to charge ahead, Jing Dan immediately followed suit, likewise pouring out heartfelt words. But then he shifted his argument and said, "Yet your servant believes that the altar the Great King should sacrifice at is not the Fu Altar, but the Northern Altar!"

He said, "After Duke Wen of Qin, the sacrifices to the Five Emperors were gradually completed. East of Yong, there is the Mi Altar, which sacrifices to the Green Emperor, Taihao."

"Between the two places, there is the Upper Altar, which sacrifices to the Yellow Emperor, Xuanyuan."

"South of the Wei River, there is also the Lower Altar, which sacrifices to the Flame Emperor, Shennong."

"But there was long no sacrifice to the Black Emperor, until the time of the Exalted Emperor of Han. After striking Xiang Ji in the east, he returned and entered the Pass, arriving in Yong. He inquired and learned that there were only four altars here, and at first found it strange, saying, 'I have heard that Heaven has Five Emperors, yet now only four are sacrificed to. Why is that?'"

"The many officials offered a jumble of opinions, but none knew the reason. Then Liu Bang suddenly saw the truth and said, 'I know it — it was waiting for me to complete the five.'"

"Thereupon he established the shrine to the Black Emperor and named it the Northern Altar!"

Jing Dan bowed and said: "But the virtue of Han was not black water. In the time of Emperor Wu of Han, it was first changed to yellow earth, and by the time of Emperor Cheng of Han, it was changed again to red fire. From this we can know that Liu Bang was the Son of the Red Emperor, absolutely not the Black Emperor!"

"Great King, think on it — what the Han founder said, 'it awaits me to complete the five.' Complete the five — five! Is this not speaking of the Great King's very surname? So it turns out the Great King is the Black Emperor!"

Good heavens, so the prophesied one was me all along!

Diwu Lun had to suppress a laugh. He also understood why Jing Dan had gone through such a long detour to suggest he adopt the black color of water virtue: Jing Dan had glimpsed that Diwu Lun, when establishing institutions, liked to imitate the Qin dynasty, and Qin was also water virtue.

Wang Long, however, disagreed. After his last remonstration against burning the debt contracts and his veiled defense of the powerful families had earned him a rebuke from Diwu Lun, he had not spoken a single word on military affairs or state governance. But since sacrifices fell under the duties of the Minister of Ceremonies, how could he let Jing Dan twist the meaning at will? Moreover, Wang Long favored governing the realm through ritual propriety and was already dissatisfied — though he dared not say so openly — that Diwu Lun's regime secretly employed remnants of the brutal Qin. How could he allow Jing Dan to set the new dynasty's virtue as water, the same as Qin?

So he coughed once in warning: "Imperial Counselor, earth overcomes water — this does not accord with the doctrine of the five phases overcoming one another."

Jing Dan, however, resorted to sophistry: "Has the Minister of Ceremonies not heard of the doctrine of the five phases overcoming in reverse? Though earth can overcome water, when water is abundant, the earth flows away."

He then went on to cite examples such as the Jing River changing its course at Changping Lodge in Changling, Diwu Lun's old home, and the Yellow River bursting its banks in Wei Commandery, where Diwu Lun had risen to power… as cases of water instead submerging earth.

The two locked horns over this. And Diwu Biao, who had been the very first to urge Diwu Lun to take the title of king and had been thinking of chiming in as well, now stared wide-eyed. He had never imagined that proclaiming an emperor was so much more complicated than proclaiming a king — one set of theories after another, absolutely beyond what his small brain could grasp. Better to just join the chorus with an "I'm with him" when the time came to urge the throne.

In the end, it was Diwu Lun who put a stop to the two ministers' dispute.

"My two ministers, since we are passing by, let both the White Emperor's and the Black Emperor's sacred fields be sacrificed to with the lesser lao offering of two animals."

Wang Long and Jing Dan fell silent at once. From Diwu Lun's meaning, he had no intention of proclaiming himself emperor just yet.

"The bandits and rebels are not yet pacified; we face enemies on all sides. Why the haste to assume the proper title and throne? To lack the substance yet occupy the name — I will not take it."

The meaning was: I will certainly proclaim myself emperor, but the time is still too early.

Having said this, Diwu Lun added with meaningful deliberation: "By the way, my family's ancestors were originally of the Tian clan, arising in the east. Though we migrated west two hundred years ago, we still must not forget our roots. For the sacred field of the Green Emperor Taihao, also send a lesser lao offering on my behalf."

Seeing Diwu Lun's resolute attitude, Wang Long and Jing Dan dared not urge the throne further. They merely assented, and Wang Long went to arrange the matter. The Minister of Ceremonies then fell into deep thought.

"Sacrificing to the Green Emperor — could it be that the Great King favors neither metal virtue nor water virtue, but inclines toward… wood virtue? Using wood to overcome the Xin Dynasty's earth?"

But in that case, he would be surrounded on all sides by the fire of the Fiery Han — hardly advantageous.

Let the ministers slowly agonize over this matter. Diwu Lun was in no hurry to proclaim himself emperor now; this was not something that could be settled simply by changing a title. Look at this — just arguing over a single virtue and color had caused such a quarrel; other matters went without saying. Proclaiming an emperor involved an elaborate system of ritual and sacrifice, and would even affect the structure of the court. Within the Pass, a hundred endeavors awaited revival — where would he find the leisure to busy himself with all this now? Thus it should be deferred, not rushed.

After traveling onward for several more days, when Diwu Lun reached Wugong County, a great crowd was already waiting there. Among them were the old Erudite Guo You of the Imperial Academy and representatives of the elders of Chang'an — a dense mass of over a hundred people, all kneeling by the roadside. Besides congratulating the King of Wei on driving out the Han bandits and Wei Ao's rebels, they had also come, entrusted by all the people of Chang'an, to plead for one thing.

"With ten thousand folk longing in hope, we beseech the Great King to enter Chang'an soon!"

Inside the gold-rooted carriage, Diwu Lun did not answer at once. He did not even lift the carriage curtain — inscrutable and profound.

Zhang Yu and Zhu Di came over to ask: "Great King? How should we reply?"

Diwu Lun said: "Do you two still remember how I first gained renown in my youth?"

"Giving away the pears?"

"Refusing office?"

Zhang Yu and Zhu Di looked at each other. Of course they knew — three refusals and three yieldings!

Diwu Lun laughed: "This time, with everyone begging me to enter Chang'an, if I don't do five refusals and five yieldings, wouldn't I be letting down the cold stares they once gave me?"