The Child Emperor

A year ago when leaving the Capital, Guo Cong had resolved to live in seclusion in the countryside and ignore worldly affairs. But events have a way of finding you.

While Han Ruzi was still gazing toward the Capital from the frontier and puzzling over palace matters, Guo Cong, equally far from the Capital, had already heard about the general situation of the princes’ struggle for the throne. Reluctantly, he traveled back to the Capital a month ago with two students who delivered messages. Rather than returning to his old residence, he stayed at a friend’s home, refusing visitors except for a select few.

Even so, this elderly scholar understood the Capital’s situation far better than most officials.

Due to Guo Cong’s poor health, Han Ruzi had comfortable chairs brought for him. Yang Feng had his own chair near the bookshelf, relatively far from the Weary Marquis behind the desk, allowing him to disengage from or join conversations naturally.

After the servants withdrew, only the three remained. Guo Cong tacitly accepted Yang Feng’s presence and began persuading the Weary Marquis to withdraw from the succession struggle.

Han Ruzi hadn’t expected Guo Cong’s visit, much less such a direct request. He recalled how much effort it had taken, when he was emperor, just to get this teacher to elaborate during lectures.

He didn’t get angry but smiled and said, “Withdraw for the sake of the Great Chu empire? How does my involvement in the succession affect the empire?”

Guo Cong’s breathing was heavy, reminding Han Ruzi of General Fang Daye, though there was a difference – the latter’s was heavy but powerful, like a bellows being forcefully pulled, while the former’s was heavy and weak, as if it could be his last.

“Officials choosing the emperor? No, no, such a thing has never happened in history. The empire must not set this precedent.”

Han Ruzi had a history book beside him recording events from ancient times. Though much of it was fantastical, as Yang Feng had said, some passages, viewed from a different angle, seemed to describe officials selecting emperors, though the historical records had obscured this through embellishment and editing.

Han Ruzi didn’t recommend this book to Guo Cong, and said, “Please believe me, Master Guo, I also absolutely don’t want to set such a precedent, but given the circumstances…”

“Circumstances can change.” The usually refined and somewhat timid Guo Cong now showed an aggressive side. “If there was only one prince contending for the throne, then it wouldn’t be officials selecting the emperor.”

Han Ruzi glanced at Yang Feng and couldn’t help but smile. With many questions in mind, he decided to ask the strangest one first: “Though officials selecting an emperor is odd and against propriety, it benefits the officials greatly. Why do you oppose it?”

“That’s precisely the issue. The Weary Marquis speaks so lightly of ‘against propriety,’ but this isn’t just a small breach – it’s a collapsed dam. Previous dynasties all perished because of a lack of propriety. The Chu empire must not repeat their mistakes. I oppose it precisely because it benefits officials. Once officials taste this power, they won’t easily give it up. Would the Weary Marquis accept future emperors all being selected by officials?”

“Hmm… that might not be so bad.” Han Ruzi hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.

“What if the officials select an emperor who isn’t surnamed Han?”

“Surely it wouldn’t come to that.”

“With such power in hand, why wouldn’t they use it? Selecting an emperor of a different surname isn’t even the worst outcome. When officials usurp imperial authority, others will naturally usurp official positions. Subordinates defying superiors will become the norm. Eventually, everyone will try to make themselves emperor. The realm will fall into chaos and fragment. The Chu empire will perish, and the Central Plains will fall from a land of propriety and decorum to a land ruled by might.”

Han Ruzi had grown weary of this conversation with Guo Cong, who was nothing but a pedantic scholar. It reminded him of the past, when he would nearly fall asleep during lectures at Soaring Clouds Pavilion. But now he at least had a choice, so he interrupted the old man’s discourse on propriety and said, “Fine, officials shouldn’t choose the emperor. But why must I step down? Do you think I’m unfit to be emperor?”

Guo Cong let out a long sigh and hesitated before saying, “The Weary Marquis would make a good emperor, but the timing isn’t right. I urge you to withdraw to save your life. The current situation is clear – the Champion Marquis is the former crown prince’s orphan and has gained support from most officials. He’s the least controversial choice and his succession is in accordance with propriety. It’s his heavenly mandate, so the power of selection won’t truly fall to the officials.” ꭆâNÓ฿ΕS̈

“There’s still Prince Donghai,” Han Ruzi said, feeling angry but not showing it. He wanted to hear Guo Cong finish, as this represented many civil officials’ views.

“After meeting you, I’ll go see Prince Donghai and urge him to withdraw too.”

“You think Prince Donghai will agree?”

“We must try. If not, I’ll persuade Grand Tutor Cui, who previously supported the Champion Marquis. He should be easy to convince to change his mind. Without the Southern Army’s backing, Prince Donghai should withdraw.”

“I’ll consider it,” Han Ruzi said perfunctorily.

Guo Cong could hear the insincerity and sighed again. “You rely on the Northern Army at Mancang, but though people say they’re loyal to you, I disagree. The Northern Army has many noble sons – how could these noble sons support someone different from their fathers and elder brothers? These rumors can’t be trusted. People are already investigating the truth. Once revealed, you will lose official support. Why risk everything for something unattainable? Going against the times and destiny is unwise. Better to retreat gracefully and enjoy your wealth and status.”

This was nearly a direct threat, but an effective one. With Chai Yue’s help, Han Ruzi had exaggerated the Northern Army’s support, planning to use this to seek official backing and then demonstrate it to the Northern Army hundreds of miles away. It was a delicate game – one wrong move could cause both the army and officials to abandon him.

So far, the Champion Marquis had made all the mistakes, benefiting Han Ruzi. He studied the old man, assessing his and his followers’ strength. “Must you support the Champion Marquis?”

“I support no one. The Champion Marquis becoming emperor would simply cause the least chaos,” Guo Cong paused. “If it were you, I wouldn’t oppose it either.”

Han Ruzi laughed. When he was emperor before, only a eunuch had spoken for him, not officials or scholars. He stood up, “I’m young and foolish – without Teacher Guo’s guidance, how would I know the importance of propriety and decorum? But surely you can give me some time to consider?”

Han Ruzi had nothing to consider, but unless necessary, he didn’t want to refuse directly.

Guo Cong struggled to his feet. “Take your time. Wait for news from the Northern Army before deciding.”

He sighed again, seeming to want to say more, but shook his head and left. Han Ruzi personally saw him to the gate. Back in his study, he asked Yang Feng puzzledly, “Guo Cong retired years ago and the College of National Scions have few high ranking officials. The succession struggle doesn’t concern him at all – why get involved in this mess? Is it really just about propriety?”

Yang Feng hadn’t spoken during Guo Cong’s persuasion attempt or his departure. Now he smiled as if having won a battle. “My lord should be pleased. Ripples on the water mean fish below. Guo Cong’s involvement means big fish.”

“You’ll need to explain that better,” Han Ruzi was completely confused.

Yang Feng walked a few steps, then suddenly stopped. “Nobles speak of ancestry, military men of battle merit, pugilists of honor, merchants of profit, and civil officials of benevolence and propriety.”

“Yes.” Han Ruzi still didn’t understand.

“Where do civil officials come from?”

“Civil officials… come from scholars.”

“Correct, but among countless scholars, how many become officials?”

“Not many. That’s why we have examinations and recommendations to select capable candidates.”

“Do officials forget their scholarly origins?”

“I don’t think so. History shows clearly that military men are used to establish dynasties, but civil officials to maintain them. When civil officials gain power, they always elevate scholars’ status. It was true in previous dynasties and remains so today.”

“And scholars in turn influence officials.”

“Can scholars who fail to become officials influence court officials?” Han Ruzi was skeptical.

“Scholars aren’t just failed candidates. There are those who refuse to take examinations, and those who stay in minor positions at court. Though scholars lack power, their numbers are great. Through word of mouth, they control officials’ reputations.”

Han Ruzi suddenly remembered Yang Feng had been a scholar. The eunuch rarely discussed his past but clearly understood scholars well.

“So Guo Cong is one who controls reputations?”

“‘Control’ is too strong a word, but Guo Cong certainly has influence, or he wouldn’t have returned to the Capital for this.”

“What about Luo Huanzhang? His influence seemed greater.”

“Luo Huanzhang had great influence, but by refusing to take the examinations he’s separated from imperial court, unlike Guo Cong.”

Han Ruzi thought a moment. “I still don’t understand why the scholars would oppose the succession struggle. It elevates officials’ status, which elevates scholars’ status too.”

He didn’t believe it was merely about “propriety.”

“Perhaps Guo Cong and these scholars feel threatened, sensing they’ll ultimately lose their influence over officials.”

“Threatened by whom?”

Yang Feng didn’t answer, lost in thought as if puzzling over something difficult.

“The fate seers?” Han Ruzi suggested. He admired their abilities but thought Yang Feng overestimated their power.

Yang Feng spoke without mentioning fate seers. “Guo Cong is as cunning as Chancellor Yin Wuhai. You handled him well earlier – never openly offend such people.”

“But that seems inevitable.”

“No no, Guo Cong actually brought good news.”

“Good news?”

“Yes. He stated clearly he supports no one, only wanting you and Prince Donghai to withdraw because the Champion Marquis has the advantage.” Yang Feng paused. “This shows Guo Cong doesn’t actually favor the Champion Marquis – that’s the scholars’ position. When he mentioned the Northern Army’s noble sons not defying their elders, he was hinting that you need the nobles’ support to defeat the Champion Marquis.”

Han Ruzi was stunned – he hadn’t detected any of Guo Cong’s “good intentions.”

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