In the study tower of the Qi Mansion, Qi Yanglong gazed at the middle-aged man whose exhaustion was evident, and murmured with sorrow, “Your Majesty, when a bowstring has been stretched tight for twenty or thirty years, how can it not break?”
The Son of Heaven from the Zhao family laughed heartily, “There’s nothing to be done about it. In the past, I didn’t have a wise advisor like you by my side. If you had arrived in the capital twenty years earlier, perhaps I might have lived twenty more years. But fate is rarely complete, and I’ve come to terms with it.”
Qi Yanglong sighed softly, then turned serious and asked, “There’s something I wish to ask, though I’m unsure if it’s appropriate.”
The emperor nodded, “What can’t be spoken between you and me, as stated in that secret letter? There’s nothing we cannot say or do.”
Qi Yanglong asked solemnly, “Your Majesty can tolerate the eccentricities of the old man Tan Tanweng, the drunken slumber of the palace attendants during their duties, the Zhang and Gu lodges right under your nose, the two ‘Standing Emperors’ Biyan’er and Hanshengxuan by your side, the scholars of Jiangnan who debate politics, and even the scholars who compose nostalgic poems about the previous dynasty. You have never slackened in your duties for a single day, and over twenty years, you’ve written over nine million characters in vermilion ink. So why can’t you tolerate a distant vassal king of a different surname who poses no threat of rebellion?”
The emperor replied bitterly, “Master, you ask this question knowing full well the answer. Are you afraid I insist on humiliating Beiliang?”
Qi Yanglong remained silent, his eyes gleaming as he fixed his gaze on the ruler of Central Plains, who had harbored great ambitions since his youth.
He lacked the achievements of unifying the realm like his predecessor, yet his aspirations were even greater.
The emperor felt the simple, scholarly aura within the study tower—the fragrance he had known since childhood, when he often tore books and played with them alongside his beloved elder brother, Zhao Heng. In contrast, he had spent little time with his younger brother Zhao Yi, born of the same parents. After a brief moment of distraction, the emperor collected his thoughts and spoke calmly, “Rest assured, Master. Since the one person I could never tolerate is already dead, I can certainly tolerate Song Dongming of Luming Commandery. If you wish to lift the ban on grain transport and fully support Beiliang’s resistance against the Beiman, I am willing to listen. Before I entered this mansion, I had already instructed the Ministry of Personnel and the Ministry of Revenue to cease their harassment of Beiliang.”
He continued, “Before you arrived in the capital, you once asked how I would deal with Zhang Julu. To be honest, it’s not that I cannot tolerate that Prime Minister, but the Zhao dynasty cannot. I had no choice but to make a decision. Objectively speaking, my prestige pales in comparison to my late father’s. Before ascending the throne, my father, in his final illness, set a secret family rule for all his sons: whoever inherited the throne must emphasize civil over military affairs. That was the true reason Zhao Heng lost to me—he was too much like my father, with his military exploits and achievements. Among the nine princes, he was the most accomplished. If he had ruled from the north looking southward, he would have exhausted the nation’s strength in a struggle against the Beiman. I, however, was able to stop at the edge of the cliff, but Zhao Heng would never have been able to do so. I remember when we were children, he once said he would wield a jade axe to draw borders north of the Beiman and south of the Nanzhang regions.”
The aging Son of Heaven turned his back to Qi Yanglong, extending a finger to touch an ancient volume, and said helplessly, “By the time my own sons came of age, the elder son Zhao Wu lost to the fourth son Zhao Zhuan for the same reason. A ruler must possess the ambition to subdue the Beiman, but not to the point of excess. Yet Zhuan’s prestige still falls short of mine. When I balanced the military men, it was already extremely difficult. Now Zhuan must tame the civil officials, a task that will be long and arduous. Whether or not Zhang Julu’s civil faction exists will make a significant difference. After my death, as long as Zhang Julu remains alive—whether in or out of court—Zhao Zhuan will be constrained year after year. Moreover, Zhuan has a refined, scholarly disposition and a free-spirited nature. Often, even when he knows something is wrong, he will still be lenient toward the civil officials who wield the brush and the blade. Scholars, even when they genuinely care for the realm, often lack the ability to accomplish what is beneficial to the people. The higher their positions, the more dangerous they become. Actually, I incline toward Master Wang’s defeat in that debate with Master Qi at the Shangyin Academy, but such a sentiment is difficult to express from my position.”
“Yangli’s reign has already lasted over two hundred years, but in my view, the true beginning of our dynasty was in the first year of the Yonghui era! Compared to the four-hundred-year-old Dafo dynasty, isn’t Yangli still like an infant in swaddling clothes? Zhuan is far from the point where he can sit back and become a wastrel emperor!”
“I naturally know that no dynasty can last forever. One day, the realm will no longer bear the Zhao surname, and the head of the clan registry will be replaced by another. Future Zhao descendants may receive either laudatory or derogatory posthumous titles, but I hope there will be more of the former than the latter.”
“When I was a child, I listened to the Grand Tutor, who had not yet been relieved of his post, recount history. Whenever he mentioned the duration of each dynasty, I always had a feeling—it was as if scholars were taking part in a long or short imperial examination. Only, the examinees could pass down their roles from father to son. Those who performed well would gain the favor of Heaven, the chief examiner. Those who performed poorly would lose something. Thus, with additions and subtractions, when there was nothing left to deduct, the imperial family’s exclusive right to rule would end, and the dynasty would reach its conclusion. Since the founding of Yangli by our High Ancestor, I believe my governance surpasses that of nine out of ten predecessors, except for the rare few like the great High Ancestor and the perceptive late emperor.”
As the emperor rambled on, his face flushed with a sickly glow.
For a long time, it was the emperor who poured out his heart, while the old man listened attentively, occasionally smiling knowingly.
In the present world, only Qi Yanglong could make the Son of Heaven of the Zhao family speak so freely.
Suddenly, he laughed and said, “Master, your three disciples—Xun Ping, Yuan Master, and Xie Master—all devoted themselves wholeheartedly to Yangli. It can be said that the four of you—master and disciples—upheld half the realm. Truly, their merits are beyond measure.”
From how the emperor addressed the three disciples, one could discern his closeness to each. He had spent the least time with the scholar Xun Ping, yet he regarded him as a close friend with whom he could exchange names. He addressed Yuan Benxi as “Yuan Master” out of genuine respect, while he casually called out the name Xie Feiyu, revealing a sense of ease.
The old man waved his hand and said, “Compared to those great scholars of the Spring and Autumn era, I was the last to gain fame. I was widely considered the most dull and uncomprehending scholar. When I was in my thirties, I was still wandering the martial world, achieving nothing. Meanwhile, the mentors of Zhang Julu and Huan Wen were already renowned throughout the land. There was also that old friend from the Jiangnan region who loved raising cats. When they rose to power, I could only watch from afar, too ashamed to even visit their homes. Speaking of disciples, on the surface, mine seem the most accomplished. But if we truly compare, one was Zhang Julu, who showed his sharpness, and the other was Huan Wen, who remained humble. The latter followed the same path as I did, yet ultimately could not escape the confines of worldly conventions. As for my three disciples, though each has surpassed me in certain aspects, compared to Zhang Julu, aside from Xun Ping living twenty years longer and thus having the chance to rival him, the other two fall short.”
Qi Yanglong sighed, “Zhang Julu was the only one who could be compared with Huang Sanjia as a transcendent genius. People say he was merely a mender for Yangli, but that’s a grave underestimation of Biyan’er. This time I came to the capital, I had no intention of tearing everything down and rebuilding. Quite the opposite. Many of Zhang Julu’s measures were too forceful, so I would patch and mend them. It’s I who am truly the mender. Without Zhang Julu before me, I could accomplish nothing. I would remain forever in the Shangyin Academy, studying those trivial, forgotten academic pursuits.”
The old man looked toward the emperor, raised both hands, and smiled softly, “Your Majesty, you are a good emperor, without a doubt. Intelligent by nature, yet you still believe in diligence compensating for lack of talent. I dare say, in the present world, there are only rankings for generals and ministers. If there were a ranking for emperors, from the Qin Empire onwards, and for another thousand years into the future, you would surely rank among the top ten.”
The emperor was momentarily stunned, then burst into laughter, “Could I also sneak into a list of the top ten martial experts, like the Wuping rankings?”
Qi Yanglong laughed as well, then nodded firmly.
The emperor walked to the window of the Iron Sword and Zither study tower. Looking up, he saw a flock of carrier pigeons crossing the capital’s sky, faintly hearing their cooing. He asked self-deprecatingly, “Master, am I speaking kindly because I know my time is near?”
For the first time, Qi Yanglong found himself unable to respond.
The emperor murmured to himself, “If Xu Xiao had no son, or if that young man had died early in the martial world, yet left behind an heir, then I would not hesitate to grant Xu Xiao the highest posthumous honor, bestow hereditary nobility upon that young man, and invite Xu Xiao’s grandson to the capital to enjoy honors surpassing even those of the Zhao imperial descendants. As long as the Zhao family rules the realm, the Xu family’s descendants shall enjoy prosperity. Alas, the regrets of this world arise precisely from the fact that there is no room for ‘if only’ in reality.”
Qi Yanglong remained silent.
The emperor composed himself and smiled, asking, “Master, last time you wanted to say something but said the timing wasn’t right. What was it?”
Qi Yanglong answered slowly, “The decentralization of power, the complete dismantling of local forces. But this must wait until the realm is unified. Once the Beiman are conquered, following the current four-tier administrative system of Dao, Prefecture, Commandery, and County, the head of a Dao will merely be a division between military and civil authority, between the Jiedushi and the Jinglue Shi. As long as the Jiedushi completely overshadow the Jinglue Shi, they will be no different from the rulers of states during the Spring and Autumn chaos. Yangli once suffered greatly from the Scourge of regional warlords and must never repeat that mistake. Especially after conquering the Beiman, combined with the original fourteen Dao, there will be over twenty-four Dao. That seems like many, but with the current postal system, except for the central regions, most Jiedushi and Jinglue Shi will be far removed from the emperor’s reach. The establishment of Dao was originally temporary, and must be abolished afterward. Moreover, the current thirty-odd Prefectures of Yangli must be further subdivided, with some large Commanderies elevated to Prefectures. Maintaining the balance between civil and military governance, the future realm should have eighty Prefectures. The civil and military heads of each Prefecture must rotate every four to six years, and upon rotation, must present themselves at court for an audience. This policy will face little resistance, since at that time, the two heads of each Prefecture will hold real power and high rank, and all will welcome it gladly. Even if some current Jinglue Shi or Cishi harbor resentment, they will be overwhelmed by their subordinates’ pressure. If they dare to resist, they will bring about their own downfall, and the court won’t even need to act, as others will help remove them.”
Qi Yanglong hesitated, then raised his arm, making a gesture of clenching and loosening his fist before speaking, “This is about reclaiming power. What follows depends on the future emperors of the Zhao family’s ability to delegate it. When reclaiming, don’t be too tight or rigid, don’t cling to power, and don’t appoint only those close to you. When delegating, don’t assume it’s a permanent solution. Scholars may debate whether human nature is inherently good or evil, but an emperor must believe that human hearts are fickle and desires insatiable, requiring frequent displays of both grace and authority. But generally speaking, as long as this policy succeeds, the Zhao family’s position at the top of the clan registry can surely last another two hundred years. As for specific measures, for example, in border regions, favoring relatives over the virtuous may be acceptable, while near the capital, the virtuous should be favored over relatives. This principle should be followed during rotations. However, such matters are ultimately minor details.”
The emperor listened intently to the old man’s words, not daring to miss a single syllable.
Qi Yanglong seemed to gain insight and said, “The division and unification of the realm are inevitable. But tracing back to the root, every time the realm falls into chaos, it is because the dynasty has blocked every path of advancement for its people. In truth, both commoners and officials are simple—they must have something to hope for. With hope, they will fear death and not wish for it.”
“In the end, no matter how stingy an emperor may be, he must still give everyone a pair of shoes to wear. Don’t let the people go barefoot, lest they harbor the final thought of daring to drag the emperor from his throne, no matter the cost.”
“On this point, Xu Fengnian has done well. From the generals and officials of Beiliang to the common people, his actions have made it clear to the people of Beiliang: ‘I, Xu Fengnian, will share both fortune and hardship with you.'”
Hearing this, the emperor murmured unexpectedly, “If that young man were my own son, how wonderful it would be. Or at least, my son-in-law back then.”
Qi Yanglong couldn’t help but smile wryly, wanting to remind the emperor that he had just said there is no room for ‘if only’ in reality.
The emperor gazed silently out the window for a long time.
Qi Yanglong accompanied him in silence.
In this first year of the Xiangfu era, autumn brought discomfort to many. In truth, even greater turmoil lay ahead.
When frost kills all the grass.
Many will die, and many who have already seized great wealth and power will fall.
Suddenly, the emperor turned his head, tears streaming down his face, “Master, I don’t want to die yet. I still want to see this world once more, from south to north. Just one more look. One more glimpse would be enough.”
Qi Yanglong was at a loss for words. Rising on tiptoe, he could barely pat the tall man’s shoulder—he who today wore no dragon robe.
The scene was both absurd and sorrowful.
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