Chapter 708: Transmit the Decree, Mobilize the Troops!

After the Departure Bell rang nine times... the entire city of Yanjing plunged into enormous grief.

From streets and alleys to courtyards and homes... crying could be heard everywhere.

The people of Yanjing had known for a long time that their Emperor's health was poor.

Set aside whether the mystical tale of Master Cang entering Yanjing to sever the dragon vein years ago had been true or false.

Their Emperor had spent a long time recuperating in the Rear Garden.

If his body had not truly reached the point where it could no longer bear the affairs of state... why would His Majesty ever have needed to leave his own imperial palace?

But knowing was one thing.

Having a premonition was one thing.

When the bell truly rang... it still struck like thunder from a clear sky.

Their Emperor... had really returned to Heaven just like that?

In their hearts, even if the Emperor fell ill... he would recover.

Even if the Emperor reached his final moments... somehow... he still would not die.

He was the Emperor.

He was Great Yan's supreme sovereign.

He... should truly have lived forever, just as the people always shouted:

Ten thousand years.

"Your Majesty... Your Majesty... Your Majesty..."

An old man knelt in the middle of the street, crying at the top of his lungs.

He was not powerful.

Not noble.

Not an official.

He was only a vegetable farmer.

So his crying had no hidden purpose.

No one would come supervise whether a vegetable farmer's grief was genuine.

Because no one cared... it looked all the more real.

The old farmer lived by selling vegetables.

He had three sons.

His eldest had died in battle on the banks of the Wang River.

His second son was garrisoned at Nanwang City.

His youngest was still small.

Several years earlier, when news arrived that the eldest had died... the old man's wife grieved for too long.

Her health collapsed.

Not long afterward... she died as well.

So the old farmer had spent these years raising the youngest son by himself.

Last year, Great Yan campaigned against Chu.

Disaster also struck the country.

Market taxes doubled compared with earlier years.

Life... had truly been hard.

By ordinary logic... he should have hated the Emperor.

At least... in the poems and essays of Qian scholars... the people of Yan should have hated this Emperor who exhausted the people with endless warfare.

A thief of the people.

A solitary tyrant.

A despot whose flesh the common people wanted to eat and whose blood they wished to drink.

But the old farmer did not hate him.

He was crying.

Calling out "Your Majesty" again and again.

The grief came from the heart.

The pain came from the heart.

He sat there despite his age, slapping both hands against the ground like a child.

He wailed until tears and mucus covered his face.

When news of his eldest son's death had arrived... he had only wiped his eyes once and forced himself to stop.

He was a man.

A grown man.

How could he wail openly like a village woman?

But today... he no longer cared about face.

He wanted to cry.

So he cried.

He wanted to shout.

So he shouted.

No one on the street mocked him.

Because many of them... were crying too.

The shopkeeper inside one store lay across his counter, wiping tears again and again.

His assistants leaned against the door panels, eyes red.

Many pedestrians who had been hurrying along earlier now sat down beside the road.

Everyone was soaked in the atmosphere of enormous grief.

And every one of them... was also part of what created it.

The overwhelming majority of these people had never truly seen the Son of Heaven.

Even when the Emperor went on procession... they had never been close enough to see his face.

They did not even know what their Emperor looked like.

Yet today... they grieved from the heart.

Outside Yanjing... winter was approaching.

Some refugees had already begun drifting toward the capital.

After last year's locust disaster, the court had carried out large-scale relief and reconstruction this year.

Even so... many destitute people had come early, hoping that beneath the feet of the Son of Heaven... they might survive the winter.

The government had prepared relief as well.

Porridge distribution had already begun.

But when the Departure Bell rang... many refugees who had just received bowls of porridge did not immediately wolf them down.

Instead... they silently placed the bowls on the ground.

Then laid their chopsticks horizontally across the rims.

They wanted to stand the chopsticks upright.

But the porridge was too thin.

It was not rice.

The chopsticks would not stand.

They cried too.

They wailed too.

Clearly... it had been the Emperor's repeated wars and labor levies that emptied the strength of the state.

That was why, when disaster struck, these people had fallen directly into utter poverty and could no longer survive where they lived.

Yet they did not believe this was the Emperor's fault.

The Emperor... had done nothing wrong.

This was not blind, foolish faith.

It was because the people of Yan had only recently stopped living beneath the threat of the desert.

A hundred years... was not enough to erase the memories passed down from their ancestors.

Barbarian cavalry crossing the border.

Sabers rising.

Countless sons of Yan following their Emperor out to war.

Those tales might have yellowed inside history books... but they still lived in alleyways and streets.

Still lived in the stories old people told children and grandchildren.

The people of Yan still remembered the pain of war reaching their own homes.

Still remembered foreign armies trampling their own soil.

And because of that... the people of Yan actually understood their Emperor.

Beat the foreign states.

Beat the foreign peoples.

Beat them down.

Beat them until they submit.

Only then could Yan's own homes be safe.

Only then could war be kept from burning across their own thresholds.

For that... going a little hungry... emptying a little of the family savings... the people could genuinely understand.

Of course... there was one essential condition.

Great Yan had won every foreign war it launched in recent years.

That made the people's endurance far stronger.

As long as they kept winning... fine.

Tighten the belt.

Help His Majesty beat down the outsiders.

Afterward... life would become peaceful.

Even Marquis Zheng, looking at things now, would admit that this way of thinking was not wrong.

Long ago...

Marquis Zheng had also thought:

The ignorant masses are easy to fool.

What do they know?

But gradually... he had come to understand more and more deeply one old saying:

The people's eyes are bright.

Look at what the people of Jin had endured over the last several years.

Western Jin had suffered somewhat less.

When Yan cavalry first came, they had not deliberately committed mass slaughter, because the Yan court intended to incorporate Jin into the empire rather than loot it and leave.

Even so... an army passing through was like bandits.

Troops ate from enemy lands.

No one should fantasize that Yan soldiers had truly left every needle and thread untouched during the first campaigns.

That was unrealistic.

Eastern Jin... had been far worse.

Savages invaded.

They abducted people on a massive scale.

Across eastern Jin, nine houses in ten stood empty.

Later, during the standoff between the Yan army and the Savage-Chu coalition, the food-starved Savages and Chu men seized nearby Jin civilians and used them as two-legged sheep.

That had been true horror.

Later...

Marquis Pingxi Residence was able to absorb vast numbers of refugees across eastern Jin, grant military fields, and establish farming settlements precisely because the original population had nearly vanished.

There was almost no resistance.

The land had become ownerless.

You could do whatever you wanted with it.

Try the same thing in Yingdu.

In Litian City.

In Yanjing.

Could you?

Natural disaster... people could endure.

Hold on.

Struggle through.

Once spring came... there would be hope.

At the very least... if there was truly nothing left to eat... they could flee toward the capital.

Because... their Emperor was there.

And now... the Emperor had died.

...

Creak...

The door opened from within.

The man who walked out... was Ji Chengjue.

Blood stained his face.

His father's blood.

Behind him... the Crown Prince was still kneeling where he had been, his soul seemingly absent.

Outside the door...

Lu Bing and Wei Zhonghe slowly knelt.

"This minister Lu Bing greets the new sovereign! Long live Our Emperor, long live, long live ten thousand ten thousand years!"

"This slave Wei Zhonghe kowtows before the new sovereign! Long live Our Emperor, long live, long live ten thousand ten thousand years!"

They were the two men the Emperor of Yan had trusted most deeply and kept closest to himself.

There were some things they had already guessed long ago.

And besides... although they had stood outside the room... every movement within... every spoken word... had reached their ears.

The death of an Emperor.

The enthronement of a new sovereign.

That moment was often when an empire stood closest to chaos.

When the old Emperor of Chu died... the princes immediately fell into conflict.

When the Emperor two generations before Ji Runhao inherited the throne... the imperial princes had fought directly inside Yanjing.

But the Emperor of Yan would never permit such a thing to happen after his death.

An Emperor for the ages sought more than glory while alive.

He wanted stability after death as well.

To arrange both the living world and what came after... that was true completion.

The heads of Great Yan's two great intelligence yamens were the best assistants the former Emperor could leave his successor.

Not assistants for governing the state and pacifying the world.

Wei Zhonghe did not possess that ability.

And in truth... neither did Lu Bing.

But they were more than sufficient to help the new sovereign pass smoothly through this dangerous transition without allowing chaos to erupt.

Ji Chengjue raised one hand.

He wiped the blood from his face.

Drew in a deep breath.

Looked at the two men kneeling before him.

And said:

"Imperial Father... has returned to Heaven."

"Your Majesty," Wei Zhonghe said, "the Departure Bell has already sounded inside the palace. The whole capital now knows that His Majesty's dragon carriage has returned to Heaven. According to Great Yan's ancestral institutions, whenever Heaven and Earth change hands, the new sovereign must first be established before the state funeral is conducted. This slave asks Your Majesty to enter the imperial palace first."

Great Yan's ancestral institutions had been inherited from the past.

Many systems were constantly revised.

During Ji Runhao's reign especially... a great many had changed.

But some customs were essentially preserved from generation to generation.

Ritual was one of them.

And the rule that the new sovereign was established before the state funeral arose from the conditions Great Yan had once faced.

In the early years... the state had constantly confronted external threats.

More than one Son of Heaven had personally led armies to war and died in battle.

So whenever an Emperor died... the next sovereign was first raised to the throne.

The new Emperor took authority and dealt with the crisis.

The mourning arrangements could wait.

Deal first with the affairs of the living.

Place the affairs of the dead aside for a moment.

That custom had been born from necessity.

Even though Great Yan's circumstances had improved considerably over the past century... the rule remained unchanged.

It reminded each new Emperor how difficult it had been for the ancestors to establish and preserve the state.

Qian and Chu often cursed Yan people as barbarians.

Called Great Yan a land of tigers and wolves.

Part of that contempt came from things exactly like this.

Since ancient times, Yan people had treated elaborate ritual almost like wiping paper.

Use it however made life practical.

They were certainly no "state of rites."

And Qian and Chu were ashamed to stand beside them!

"Imperial Father arranged everything already, didn't he?" Ji Chengjue asked.

"To reply to Your Majesty, the former Emperor arranged everything long ago," Lu Bing answered.

Ji Chengjue nodded.

"Wait a moment."

"This minister obeys."

"This slave obeys."

Ji Chengjue turned.

And walked back into the room.

The Emperor of Yan... was still seated in the chair.

A dagger... remained buried in his chest.

But there was no pain or resentment on the Emperor's face.

Only release.

"Sigh."

Ji Chengjue sighed.

He walked to his father's corpse.

Reached toward the tea table.

And picked up the three imperial edicts resting there.

Candles burned inside the room.

Ji Chengjue took the edict establishing Little Seventh... and held it over a candle flame.

He watched the paper catch.

Watched the fire spread.

Only when the flames almost reached his fingers did he let the decree fall to the floor.

Even then... he kept watching.

Until the entire decree became ash.

Only afterward did he look away.

Then... holding the remaining two edicts... he walked over to the Crown Prince.

The decrees were tucked beneath his right arm.

He bent down.

Extended his left hand.

Caught the Crown Prince by the arm.

And pulled him upright.

"Second Brother. Get up first. We have work to do."

The Crown Prince nodded.

Slowly stood.

But still could not resist turning his head toward their father one more time.

"Stop looking. He's free now. Comfortable too."

Ji Chengjue pressed his lips together.

"Come. Let's settle the work first."

"Yes... Your Majesty."

When Ji Chengjue led the Second Prince out of the room... he saw Old Madam Lu standing behind Lu Bing and Wei Zhonghe.

The old woman slowly knelt.

And saluted Ji Chengjue.

Ji Chengjue stood there.

And accepted it.

After Lu Bing helped Old Madam Lu rise...

Ji Chengjue looked at her.

"Imperial Father's body... I must trouble Grandmother to prepare it."

When an old acquaintance passed away... a close elder of the family would clean the body.

Dress the dead in burial clothes.

Apply makeup.

And send them properly on the final journey.

The new Emperor would first enter the palace.

Afterward... the former Emperor's body would be brought there as well.

Lu Bing and Wei Zhonghe had kowtowed to the new sovereign immediately.

They had not even cried.

Not because they were eager to embrace the new Emperor's leg.

But because they knew exactly what they were supposed to do right now.

As the former Emperor's confidants... they had no time for grief.

Even wiping away one tear was a luxury.

Only after carrying out the former Emperor's final wishes and settling the new sovereign firmly into place... might they finally have time to stop and think:

Their Emperor... was gone.

The Emperor of Yan had died inside the Lu Residence.

In truth... that made things more convenient.

Yes, the Lu household contained plenty of useless relatives.

But this was Lu Bing's residence.

There were more than enough trustworthy and capable subordinates here to control the situation.

As for how the Emperor of Yan had died... naturally... he had died of illness.

There could be no story about the Sixth Prince stabbing him to death with a dagger.

Today... only the handful of people here knew the entire truth.

Later... those who accompanied Old Madam Lu in preparing the former Emperor's body... would also be silenced quickly.

This too... was part of the former Emperor's final command.

The new sovereign he had personally chosen... would inherit cleanly.

The Crown Prince... would personally read the decree deposing himself from the position of Crown Prince.

Wei Zhonghe... or perhaps Zhao Jiulang... would read the edict establishing the Sixth Prince as the new sovereign.

The dagger wound on the former Emperor's body... would be concealed.

Even if later generations tried to blacken the new sovereign's name... they would have no way to fabricate some mysterious "Candle Shadows and Axe Sounds" around the succession.

Even if... the new sovereign truly had committed regicide.

The former Emperor... would still leave him a succession that was bright, proper, and beyond reproach.

Ji Chengjue entered the carriage Lu Bing had prepared.

The Crown Prince sat inside with him.

Wei Zhonghe drove.

Lu Bing also rode in the carriage.

At the same time...

Lu Bing's hidden yamen and the Secret Intelligence Department almost simultaneously received orders from their respective chiefs.

Both began operating at full force.

Everything... for only one purpose.

To ensure the new sovereign's succession proceeded smoothly.

Ji Chengjue's face had already been wiped clean.

His clothing had been changed too.

He leaned against the carriage wall.

His eyes remained open.

But in truth... he was not thinking about anything.

The Crown Prince sat across from him with his head lowered.

At least... for the moment... he was still the Crown Prince.

"Second Brother."

"Mm, Your Majesty."

Ji Chenglang raised his head and looked toward Sixth Brother.

"Don't change the form of address yet. Wait until later."

"All right, Sixth Brother."

"He's gone. This household. This country. Now... we have to hold them up."

Ji Chenglang nodded.

"I'll help you for one year. After that, I'll request retirement, return to my residence, read books, and compile books."

There was no false modesty.

No pretended reluctance.

Everything was direct.

By now...

Ji Chenglang had already lost all desire to fight or compete.

He had submitted.

From the moment he saw Sixth Brother's hands around Imperial Father's throat... from the moment he saw Sixth Brother drive a dagger into Imperial Father's chest... he had been terrified.

Terrified beyond words.

But at the same time... he too had felt freed.

Imperial Father was gone.

Imperial Mother was gone too.

Hatred.

Resentment.

All of it suddenly seemed to lose the thing it had been attached to.

He would remain.

He would act.

And in the new reign... this deposed Crown Prince would continue helping with certain affairs.

He also knew Sixth Brother would arrange some highly prominent position for him.

He needed to use his own actions to tell the world:

His deposition.

His brother's enthronement.

These truly had been Imperial Father's decrees.

He had not been forced to surrender the position.

Of course... there was not much grievance in it.

Nor did it truly count as acting.

After all... he had witnessed Imperial Father hand the throne to Sixth Brother with his own eyes.

"Compiling books costs a lot of silver," Ji Chengjue suddenly said.

Ji Chenglang smiled.

That was true.

Compiling books was expensive.

A major undertaking.

"Imperial Father fought for the realm. You will govern it. I should find something to do too. Leave Great Yan some true literary culture, so that when Yan people deal with Qian and Chu, we won't feel we lack anything when they mock us for having no literary tradition. Most importantly... now that Imperial Father is gone, I'm afraid the breath holding me up may disappear too. Perhaps this body really will develop problems. If your elder brother suddenly falls ill and dies too early... I personally wouldn't care. But it would be bad for you, Sixth Brother."

Ji Chengjue nodded.

Imperial princes were like eels.

The Emperor of Yan had been the pike.

Put a pike among a group of eels and they kept moving.

Take the pike away... and the eels easily became listless.

Then died quickly.

"Wait two years. Right now... rats are running through the state treasury."

"That matter isn't urgent."

At this moment... immediately after Imperial Father's death... the two brothers unexpectedly displayed true fraternal affection.

The former Emperor's departure had carried away the estrangement between them as well.

Ji Chengjue himself was not certain... whether their old man had calculated even this before dying.

The carriage had already entered the streets.

The sound of commoners crying came from both sides.

In an instant... the two brothers were surrounded by the grief of the entire capital.

Ji Chenglang drew in a deep breath.

Then slowly exhaled.

Ji Chengjue said:

"No matter what... he truly was a good Emperor."

He paused.

Then added one qualifier.

"In the eyes of the people."

A moment later...

Ji Chengjue seemed to remember something.

He called toward the front:

"Eunuch Wei."

"This slave is here."

"Can I issue an imperial decree right now?"

In theory... no.

The new sovereign had not yet formally ascended the throne.

Many ministers did not even know that Great Yan's new sovereign was not the Crown Prince... but the Sixth Prince.

But in practice... with Wei Zhonghe and Lu Bing present... an order could simply be transmitted in the name of the former Emperor's final decree.

In truth... that might carry even greater weight than an order from the new sovereign.

"Your Majesty, naturally you can."

Ji Chengjue nodded.

Then said:

"Transmit the decree. Order Marquis Pingxi... to mobilize the Jingnan Army outside the city... and enter Yanjing."

[End of Chapter 708]