The Child Emperor

Just as the freshly cooked porridge was brought out, before it could even be placed on the rack, the line descended into chaos. Everyone pushed forward, holding up wooden tokens that served as proof of their eligibility. The soldiers maintaining order swung their clubs indiscriminately, adding to the confusion rather than restoring order, while creating a cacophony of wails and screams.

Han Ruzi reined in his horse, stopping by the roadside to observe the chaotic scene outside the city gate.

Shang County was small and not far from the Capital – half a day’s ride at most. It lay on the essential route east toward Hangu Pass. Like many places, Shang County was overwhelmed with refugees and displaced people. The daily porridge distribution was a matter of life and death for many.

Dozens of followers waited behind the Weary Marquis. Du Chuanyun angrily declared, “Those government dogs! I’ll teach them a lesson!”

Du Motian held back his grandson with his horsewhip. “Don’t cause trouble. You may beat up the officials and run away, but what about these common folk? Will you come distribute porridge every day?”

Du Chuanyun was speechless, but couldn’t bear to watch the elderly, women and children being bullied. He could only say to those ahead, “Weary Marquis, let’s go. Why are we stopping here?”

“Hmm.” Han Ruzi remained motionless.

The officers outside the city gate had noticed this group of horsemen and knew they were nobles from the Capital, though they didn’t recognize their identities. Their leader was more cautious, quietly ordering his men to show restraint while approaching with clasped hands, smiling, “Sir, are you from the Capital? What brings you here?”

Han Ruzi pointed at the porridge line. “How many refugees are there here? How much rice is needed daily?”

The officer was taken aback, unsure of the visitor’s background and not daring to offend. He replied uncertainly, “Refugees… over five hundred people. As for rice… I’m not quite sure, you’d have to ask the county magistrate. May I ask your name, sir? I can announce you.”

“No need.” Han Ruzi rode into the city.

He had come by invitation.

Shortly after Guo Cong’s visit, Han Ruzi had received a letter from Grand General Han Xing requesting a meeting in Shang County. Previously, Yang Feng had written several letters to the Grand General on the Weary Marquis’s behalf – this was the first reply, a good sign.

Like Grand Tutor Cui, Han Xing had played a clever move by meeting the Weary Marquis outside the Capital, so it wouldn’t count as returning to the city. His timing was also strategic – the fifteenth day of the first month, the Lantern Festival, which was also the Champion Marquis’s wedding day. The Champion Marquis, eager to repair relations with Grand Tutor Cui, had moved up his wedding date.

The streets of the county town were decorated with lanterns and festive decorations, though there weren’t many pedestrians. Han Ruzi arrived at the county office and sent someone to announce his arrival.

The person who came to receive the Weary Marquis was neither Han Xing nor the county magistrate, but a prefect.

From Shang County eastward to Hangu Pass was all part of Hongnong Prefecture. The prefect, Zhuo Ruhe, was an imperial son-in-law, married to a daughter of the Martial Emperor – sister to both the Graceful Emperor and Princess Hengyang.

Zhuo Ruhe was around forty, fair-skinned with a slight beard, from a scholarly family. Han Ruzi had heard his name and must have seen him in the Taian Palace, though he had no clear memory of him.

Prefect Zhuo was courteous, personally escorting the Weary Marquis to the rear hall. The county magistrate wasn’t qualified to appear and didn’t want to be involved in such matters, continuing his regular duties in the front hall.

Being unfamiliar with each other, they exchanged many pleasantries. After finishing one cup of tea and having it refilled, Han Ruzi asked, “Did Lord Zhuo come with the Grand General?”

Zhuo Ruhe smiled, “I am inspecting the disaster situation in various counties. The Grand General is on his way and will arrive soon.”

Unable to discern Zhuo Ruhe’s intentions, Han Ruzi made casual conversation: “I saw the porridge distribution outside the city gate. Over five hundred refugees – that’s not too many, is it?”

“Ah, that’s just a small portion. Some have fled to the mountains to become bandits, some have gone to other prefectures, some remain in the countryside. In early winter, there were the most displaced people – seven or eight thousand, moving around seeking food, and resorting to robbery when they couldn’t find any. Fortunately, the counties were well-guarded and no major chaos broke out.”

“What natural disasters has this prefecture encountered?”

“As for natural disasters, last year’s rainfall was somewhat less than usual, though not particularly severe. After autumn, there were rains that destroyed some crops.”

“If that’s the case, why is there a food shortage?”

Zhuo Ruhe smiled slightly, seemingly reluctant to answer. He took a small sip of tea and said, “Though the natural disasters were mild, man-made calamities have been constant.”

“What man-made calamities?” Han Ruzi was no longer making idle conversation, determined to get clear answers.

“The year before last, when Prince Qi rebelled, the imperial army marched east, causing nationwide unrest. Hongnong Prefecture, being at a strategic location, had to accommodate passing troops and transport supplies, consuming considerable resources. Last year, when the army went north to fight the Xiongnu, the entire country collected autumn grain to supply the frontier. There was also an earthquake, exhausting the people’s strength and causing grain prices to soar.” ℞ÄŊŎβÈŚ

Han Ruzi still didn’t understand. “During the Martial Emperor’s time, there were wars almost every year, but I never heard of such severe impacts on the common people.”

“Before the Martial Emperor, only the Fiery Emperor was fond of warfare, and even then on a small scale. The other emperors all focused on recuperation, building up reserves for decades. The Martial Emperor reigned for over forty years, spent ten years preparing, before finally engaging the Xiongnu, and even then nearly depleted Great Chu’s resources. Now we face sudden warfare with insufficient preparation, forcing localities to increase taxation.”

“From what I know, the granaries at Mancang are full, and local government granaries also have grain. Why won’t they open them for disaster relief?”

Zhuo Ruhe smiled again without directly answering, instead saying, “As commander of Divine Hero Pass military affairs, have you not worried about provisions?”

“Lack of provisions is a greater threat than the Xiongnu.”

“When you requisitioned supplies from various counties, didn’t you hope for immediate fulfillment – the more the better?”

“Of course.”

“That’s also the court’s thinking. When orders come down, whichever prefecture or county prepares well and quickly, their officials gain merit. Those who are slow or provide insufficient amounts face serious punishment. So, when requisitions are anticipated, all regions must prepare in advance for unexpected needs.”

Han Ruzi finally understood. “First Prince Qi’s rebellion, then the Xiongnu invasion – everyone assumed this would be a years-long war, so they hoarded grain in anticipation of future imperial requisitions.”

“Exactly.”

“The government’s forceful grain collection led to riots, the court sent troops to suppress them, creating another war of unknown duration, causing regions to hoard even more grain. Even with full granaries, they dare not distribute, fearing shortages in coming years.”

Zhuo Ruhe nodded. “There’s another point – with the court unstable and chaos spreading, both officials and people think of self-preservation. Everyone wants to store some grain for themselves, driving prices even higher. Great Chu seems to have grain, yet also seems to lack it.”

“If Mancang has enough supplies for the frontier armies, why won’t the court release them? Why must I requisition from around Divine Hero Pass?”

Mancang was a hundred miles away from Divine Hero Pass, outside the Northern Protection General’s jurisdiction, but Han Ruzi had repeatedly requested grain. Yet they would only provide small monthly amounts according to custom, even less than a small county nearby.

“The granaries at Mancang belong to the emperor, not to Great Chu, not to the Chu army, and certainly not to the common people. Only when… the Son of Heaven himself feels hunger will they be opened.”

“Without common people there is no Chu army, without the Chu army there is no Great Chu, and without Great Chu, what emperor could there be?”

Zhuo Ruhe stood and bowed to the Weary Marquis. “The Weary Marquis is wise.”

A servant entered, and Zhuo Ruhe said, “The Grand General has arrived. Please wait, Weary Marquis, while I go to receive him.”

Han Ruzi sat alone in the hall, still unclear about what Zhuo Ruhe had meant to convey. At times like these, he particularly missed Yang Feng.

Yang Feng had remained at the Weary Marquis’s residence, not accompanying them.

Soon after, Han Xing entered alone, without attendants, and Zhuo Ruhe didn’t return with him.

Han Xing was a senior member of the imperial clan. Han Ruzi rose to greet him. Han Xing smiled, “Who would have thought that after parting at Mayi City, we would meet again in a small county office? Ah, in this whole year, my only correct decision was sending you to guard Shattered Iron City. With anyone else, the consequences would have been unthinkable.”

“Without the Grand General’s support, I and thousands of Chu soldiers would have long since been buried in Shattered Iron City.”

Han Xing’s appointment of the Northern Protection General to oversee military affairs in Shattered Iron City, Divine Hero Pass, and the surrounding ten counties had been crucial. Without it, it would have been much more difficult for Han Ruzi to command respect.

Han Xing nodded with a smile, sat down, and gestured for Han Ruzi to sit. He then took an official document from his sleeve, placed it on the table, and pushed it toward Han Ruzi. “You should need this.”

It was a transfer order, commanding the Northern Protection General to return to the Capital to report frontier military conditions to the Ministry of War and the Grand General’s Office. Grand General Han Xing himself couldn’t return to the Capital without cause, but he could send his subordinate generals back.

Han Ruzi stood to express thanks. He indeed needed this order – otherwise, his presence in the Capital would remain problematic, only temporarily resolved because the palace hadn’t replied to his memorial.

But this wasn’t the real reason Han Ruzi had come to meet the Grand General. “Did you receive all my letters, Grand General?”

Those letters were written by Yang Feng, though Han Ruzi had read them all and sealed them with his own seal.

Han Xing nodded. “I’m truly getting old, to encounter such a situation. Whose idea was it for the princes to compete for the throne?”

“They say it was some fate seers who convinced the Empress Dowager.”

“Ah, how unpredictable life is. Just over ten years ago, who would dare show even the slightest interest in the throne? Even privately asking about the emperor’s health could anger the Martial Emperor and lead to family destruction. Now look – the emperor still sits in his palace, yet talk of ‘competing for the throne’ spreads openly, and no one considers it a grave crime.”

“Great Chu needs another ‘Martial Emperor.'”

Han Xing leaned forward. “Not Great Chu – the Han imperial clan. The power of the Empress Dowager has led to the imperial clan’s decline, in just these few years. How can we face our Founding Emperor after we die?”

Han Xing had always been known for his quiet, non-interventionist stance at court. His words surprised Han Ruzi. “Does the Grand General oppose the princes’ competition?”

“Competition is acceptable, but it shouldn’t be decided by a group of wandering mystics. The Empress Dowager has truly lost her mind.”

“You mean…”

Han Xing smiled slightly. “The imperial clan needs unity. The Champion Marquis has forgotten his surname, relying entirely on ministers, but we still have the Weary Marquis, and… others. The Han imperial clan has many branches – even if just a small portion works together, we can preserve Great Chu’s realm.”

Han Ruzi vaguely guessed something – this wasn’t what he and Yang Feng had hoped for.

Han Xing clapped twice, and another person entered from outside.

Prince Donghai bowed to Han Ruzi with a smile. “Brother, will you forgive me?”

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