Chapter 8: Emperor Wu of Han

Upon entering the Xuanshi Hall, Liu Jin immediately sensed an overwhelming chill permeating the air, so intense it stirred unease. The vast hall was empty, save for the echo of his footsteps reverberating softly.

“Grandson pays respects to the Emperor Grandfather,” Liu Jin intoned, performing a deep bow, head lowered respectfully.

“Hmm,” came a single response from within the hall. Silence followed; no further words were spoken, and the Emperor Wu of Han did not emerge. Liu Jin cautiously raised his eyes to the main throne, only to find it vacant. Behind a folding screen, he could faintly discern the shadow of an aged figure bent over a memorial scroll.

The red brush whispered softly over bamboo slips.

Though the emperor remained hidden, his formidable presence was unmistakable. Liu Jin, filled with countless thoughts, found himself at a loss for words, standing awkwardly. The emperor remained silent throughout.

After an indeterminate time, Liu Jin finally spoke, “Emperor Grandfather, the Central Plains suffer a severe drought. Though there was rain yesterday, it has not yet truly relieved the plight of the people.”

“Banditry rises among the common folk, and the people live in fear. Father has devoted himself entirely, laboring day and night, hoping to offer a modest contribution to Your Majesty.”

“May the emperor grant Father permission to inspect the people outside, to soothe their hearts. Only then will the people know the court’s care and bask in imperial grace, preventing further unrest.”

The emperor behind the screen remained silent, contemplating Liu Jin’s proposal. It ran contrary to his governing philosophy. In Emperor Wu’s view, if the people rebelled, they must be suppressed. The entire court apparatus was but his household servants, not equals governing alongside the sovereign.

Drawing a deep breath, Liu Jin continued, “Grandson’s understanding is shallow; please do not blame me. I see governing as tending a tree: if well-rooted over many years, its branches flourish; if newly planted with shallow roots, no matter how much warmth or nourishment, a single shake will wither it. The people today resemble such a tree. Constant care causes growth; brief conscription causes decay; when decay becomes severe, survival is threatened; when survival falters, resentment fills the air; where resentment fills the air, rebellion takes root.”

“Those dear are not truly subjects; those feared are not truly people.”

The emperor paused his writing, repeating, “Those dear are not truly subjects; those feared are not truly people.”

“Mm.”

“Warmth in spring, shaken by one—sure to wither…”

He savored Liu Jin’s words. The last two lines came from the Classic of Documents, well known to him, but to use them with such insight and vivid metaphor was unexpected.

That brat—how many books had he read in the Crown Prince’s palace?

The emperor’s eyes gradually opened, bright as a nearby brass lamp, no longer dull but sharp, filled with appreciation, deep thought, and lingering reflection.

Yet Liu Jin, unable to see beyond the screen, stood anxiously, uncertain of what to say next. If only the emperor would grant his father permission to inspect the people—even for a day—it would at least signal hope to the officials of the outer court that the Crown Prince’s palace still held promise.

After an unknown interval, the eunuch Su Wen emerged from behind the screen and said to Liu Jin, “Your Highness the Crown Prince, His Majesty must attend to state affairs. You may return for now.”

“Grandson takes his leave. Please do not overexert, Grandfather; your health is paramount.”

Liu Jin could say no more. Having had the opportunity to speak at Xuanshi Hall was satisfaction enough—it was at least a promising beginning.

***

Back at the Changle Palace complex, the Crown Prince’s residence, Liu Jin drank deeply from a cup of water.

To be honest, he had not been entirely calm earlier. Though he had not seen Emperor Wu in person and had only glimpsed him behind the screen, he still felt the overwhelming aura of the merciless, quick-tempered emperor whose word was law.

Liu Ju arrived hurriedly and asked, “Jin, have you entered Weiyang Palace?”

Liu Jin nodded. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“In a manner of speaking? What does that mean?”

Liu Jin recounted every detail of his experience in Weiyang Palace to his father.

After listening, Liu Ju’s expression shifted slightly. “Foolish child, you do not understand your grandfather’s nature.”

“You asked him to permit me to inspect the people, but he certainly would not agree.”

“Let me be frank. Your grandfather grows increasingly insecure. He fears I will seize his power. After all, he is still alive, still the Son of Heaven of the Han Dynasty. How could he allow me to wrest his authority now?”

“Your suggestion will not only fail but will drive him further away, making him suspect we harbor designs to usurp power.”

Liu Jin was stunned. “Father, that should not be so!”

“When a great disaster looms, if the court shows no response, chaos among the people only intensifies.”

“If it were the Emperors Wen or Jing, perhaps they would listen to your advice. Your proposal is excellent.”

“But Father is not Wen or Jing. He rules alone, accepting no counsel. His approach to the people has always been ruthless suppression; how could he show kindness?”

Perhaps to soften the blow, Liu Ju encouraged, “But that does not diminish your performance today. You are better than I am; you know how to navigate delicate situations. Had it been me, I would have argued with him.”

“Enough. We shall not go to Weiyang Palace anymore. Whatever happens, happens. Look at you—you were frightened out of your wits, weren’t you?”

“He truly is heartless, directing all his harsh measures for the court officials at you. Even a tiger does not eat its own cubs; you are his own grandson. What is he pretending?”

Liu Jin was speechless.

“Listen well. We will no longer go to Weiyang Palace. You need not concern yourself with matters between your grandfather and me.”

Liu Jin sighed inwardly. Would it truly come to that eventually? Would war be inevitable?

Could anyone really triumph over Emperor Wu, whose life had been forged in endless campaigns and battles?

While these thoughts churned within him, an imperial edict suddenly arrived outside the Crown Prince’s residence.

The eunuch Su Wen, accompanied by several palace attendants, came bearing the decree.

Crown Prince Liu Ju immediately went out with his wife and Liu Jin to receive it.

“The Xuanshi Crown Prince shall leave the palace tomorrow to pacify the people on my behalf, inspect the conditions of the populace, and bestow benevolence.”

Liu Ju’s face was stunned; he glanced at Liu Jin in disbelief.

Could it be? The cold-hearted old man had truly been swayed by his son?

Liu Jin himself was overwhelmed. He had thought all hope lost moments ago—how was it that the edict now arrived at the Crown Prince’s residence?

What game was the old man playing?

“I accept the decree,” Liu Ju recovered and hastened to receive the edict.

Su Wen’s expression was complex. He glanced at Liu Ju before quickly departing with the attendants.

“Uh, well…”

Staring at the edict, Liu Ju looked at Liu Jin incredulously, as if to ask if there was some detail he had not shared.

Liu Jin replied, “Father, I told you everything—everything that happened in Weiyang Palace, every word and deed!”

“Then this is puzzling. What is the old man’s true intention?”