Deposing the Emperor, Raising a King

The Northern Palace of Luoyang. Deyang Hall.

A silence sharp enough to cut skin lay crushed upon the vast hall. The ministers sprawled across the floor had faces gone the color of dirt with grief, and the child upon the throne wept without end, until his sleeves were soaked through. Even Empress Dowager He, keeping her place at his side, stared into empty air as if her soul had left her; eyes that had lost their focus were no different from those of a dead fish.

What tore that suffocating stillness was Dong Zhuo's rough iron voice.

"Grand Tutor. Your hand's shaking a bit much, isn't it? Keep that up and you'll spill every precious character."

Dong Zhuo pressed Yuan Wei with a foul grin. Grand Tutor Yuan Wei flinched and swallowed dry. The silk scroll in his hands — the Empress Dowager's edict — trembled like an aspen leaf.

"I-I'll read it. At once."

He forced down the self-loathing that surged in his throat. The head of the illustrious Yuan clan, become a traitor's dog, dragging an emperor off his throne. But the moment he met Dong Zhuo's glistening stare, that paper-thin pride sank in an instant beneath the instinct to live.

In a shaking voice, he began to read the Empress Dowager's edict aloud.

"By the will of Her Majesty the Empress Dowager... let it be proclaimed to all under Heaven!"

A proclamation that ought to have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pealed like thunder cracked instead like a mosquito's whine. Its substance, even so, was enough to turn the world over.

A murmur ran through the ministers, but Yuan Wei squeezed his eyes shut and pressed on.

"What monstrous farce is this? It will not do! It will absolutely not do!"

A few loyal ministers burst forward, flinging the words as if spitting blood. Dong Zhuo did not so much as lift a brow. At one jerk of his chin, armed soldiers stormed in and hauled the ministers out like bundles of cargo. Screams mingled with the dull thud of blows, and still Dong Zhuo looked ready to hum a tune.

In the midst of it he half-dragged Liu Xie, Prince of Chenliu, who was shaking with terror, and all but flung him down upon the throne.

"Long live the Emperor!"

"Long live the Emperor!"

At Dong Zhuo's booming lead the officers and men roared the cry after him, and the ministers who remained joined in — a coerced chorus, offered up for the sake of staying alive. Deyang Hall heaved with that grotesque cheer. For the moment the master of the world changed hands, it was an absurd, almost comic spectacle.

The new emperor, Liu Xie, was bright, and all of eight years old. Before the cold blue edge of the blade Dong Zhuo held over him, the only thing he could do was stamp the Imperial Jade Seal exactly as he was told.

Dong Zhuo thrust forward a memorial he had prepared in advance.

"Your Majesty, you only have to stamp the seal here. Simple, isn't it?"

There was no time to see what it said. The instant the red ink struck with a thud, Dong Zhuo spread the edict once more and read.

Two lines. That was all.

The Prince of Hongnong and Empress Dowager He, receiving it, collapsed to the floor and wailed. Dong Zhuo waved a hand as if the whole business bored him. Li Jue, with guards at his back, seized them roughly and dragged them out. Until the rasp of silk scraping the floor and those wretched sobs had faded into the distance, not one imperial kinsman or minister dared so much as breathe. Every mouth that might have resisted had already been hauled outside, soaked in blood.

Once the hall was in order, Dong Zhuo thrust a hand out at Yuan Wei.

"Grand Tutor."

"Yes, Grand Commandant."

"Take this edict and persuade the Colonel-Director of Retainers."

Yuan Wei reached in haste to receive it, but Dong Zhuo caught the end of the scroll and would not let go. Their eyes tangled across the edict drawn taut between them. Dong Zhuo yanked him in close — near enough that their noses might have touched — screwed his face into a scowl, and drove a low voice into Yuan Wei's ear, a beast's growl.

Yuan Wei's face went white, and then past white, nearly transparent.

"I-I understand! I will persuade him, without fail!"

"You'd better. That nephew of yours is a stiff-necked one, is all. The Grand Tutor, I trust, knows how to listen. The Yuans have always been the sort that bends, not the sort that resists. If none of you want to die, you will persuade him."

Dong Zhuo let the edict go with a flick and laughed, broad and booming. Yuan Wei clutched the sweat-dampened scroll to his chest and nodded.

"For the sake of the realm... of course I must cooperate."

His answer was resolute. No — it had to be. All his life he had cast himself as handmaiden to power, bending his back even to the Ten Attendants. The man he bowed to had merely changed to Dong Zhuo; he had not forgotten the way of lowering his head. And above all else, the clan now hung a hundred feet above the abyss.

Yuan Wei returned. The tracks of a craven compromise lay plain across his rigid face, and defeat and relief smeared, sticky, over every step as he came through the door. Before he had even sat, he spat the news out as if chewing gristle.

"He has been deposed. He is the Prince of Hongnong now. The Prince of Chenliu succeeds."

It was the result they had expected, yet hearing it from his uncle's mouth snapped Yuan Shao's mind awake.

"So at that splendid coronation, Uncle, you must have soothed Dong Zhuo's temper most admirably."

"......It was for the clan. Had I not danced to the bastard's tune, the Yuans might have suffered the extermination of the house. I could not be the one to ruin what our ancestors bled to build."

Yuan Wei looked profoundly sour. Yuan Shao looked down at the cold smile reflected in his teacup and swallowed the words a coward's excuse. He, too, stood where he must make use of Dong Zhuo.

With a soft tap, Yuan Wei set the edict carefully upon the desk.

"Read it."

Yuan Shao offered a formal salute, then reached out and took it up. The hand that opened the scroll was elegant, but the eyes that swept the lines flashed like a beast marking prey.

At last, what he had wanted was in his hands. He had pressed Li Ru with the demand that he wanted the Inspectorate of Jizhou, but now that it had truly come to pass, his heart pounded as if it might burst. The real fight was only beginning.

Yuan Shao hid that thought and opened his mouth. Perhaps that was why, contrary to his intent, what came out raked his uncle's insides.

"I'm so moved I could weep."

"Don't be sarcastic. No arguments. Take the men who follow you and go to Ye at once. Hurry. There's no telling when the Grand Commandant will change his mind."

The dismissal was blunt, and yet a little worry for Yuan Shao had settled into it.

"Understood. I had already meant to leave Luoyang — but will you be all right, Uncle? The Ten Attendants at least understood politics. The Grand Commandant does not, so trouble is certain to follow. Can you truly assist him?"

"If it is for the clan, why would I shrink from a road of thorns? Make ready at once, and depart for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ye."

Yuan Wei's counsel went on.

"Mark this. Even in Ye, the Grand Commandant's watch will continue. Never meet him head-on. He'll give Gongsun Zan office, to keep you in check. Don't indulge some reckless impulse, hand him a pretext, and drag the clan into danger. Keep your head down. Do you understand?"

Yuan Shao rose, his face set.

"I know Gongsun Zan's capabilities well."

"......"

"I will judge with care, and move with care. I have not forgotten the clan for a single moment."

He answered with a chill expression, then offered a courteous salute.

"Keep well until we meet again."

He left that polite, barbed farewell and turned without a backward glance. Behind the flutter of his robes, the sigh of Yuan Wei, left alone, stretched long across the room.

"Colonel-Director of Retainers!"

With that urgent cry Feng Ji came at a run, breath ragged, and behind him followed Yuan Shao's two sturdy sons, the strategists, and the valiant generals in a line. Every face was rigid, drawn tight with tension. Yuan Shao studied them one by one — men who trembled with anxiety, and still trusted him enough to follow. Something clenched in a corner of his chest. He feigned indifference and spoke lightly.

"Why the long faces? Anyone would think the dynasty had already fallen."

"Colonel-Director, this is no moment for jests! His Majesty—!"

"Yes. Deposed, and made Prince of Hongnong. And the Prince of Chenliu has taken the throne."

Yuan Shao tossed the fact out as flat as soda gone stale, and the company went quiet as if doused in cold water. They had already known — Lu Bu's soldiers had been blabbing it about everywhere — but hearing it from Yuan Shao's own mouth seemed to turn their stomachs. Yan Liang's fist quivered.

"Furious?"

"Furious! At traitor bastards like those—!"

Yuan Shao clapped Yan Liang on the shoulder and cleared the air. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠He looked calmly about him, then gave the order, firm.

"Pack. We are going to Ye. His Majesty has recalled the Colonel-Director of Retainers and appointed me Inspector of Jizhou, and at the same time commanded me to leave Luoyang as quickly as possible. No doubt it is Dong Zhuo's will — but what can be done? An imperial command must be obeyed. I will not, however, forget this humiliation."

"Nor will we!"

They answered, fierce and loud. Feng Ji carefully touched the practical point.

"And the army? Without an army, we can do nothing."

Yuan Shao gave a short laugh and tipped him a look.

"We take all of it, obviously. Shall we arrive in Jizhou empty-handed and spend our days tilling dirt? The arrangements are already made. My people, my army — down to the last spoon — all of it goes to Jizhou."

"Ah—!"

"Dong Zhuo's whims boil over like a pot. We move before he thinks of something else. All of you — quickly!"

"Yes! We'll make ready at once!"

Color returned to the generals' faces. In the moment despair turned to hope, their movements brimmed with an energy nothing could check. As his subordinates withdrew in a rush, Yuan Shao remained alone and looked up at the sky. The blue of it was, today of all days, piercingly cold.

He had talked big before his family and his men, but once the tension eased, something hot surged up his throat, and a single tear fell, round and clear. Was it guilt, for failing to protect the emperor? Or relief, that he had kept his own people safe? Yuan Shao brushed the tear away and swallowed a bitter smile.

"Household Sima. Deliver this to Port Chief Ren."

Yuan Shang drew a thick letter from his robes and held it out. Wen Chong received the personal letter reverently in both hands. The intent sealed inside weighed heavier than the paper.

"When we go to Ye this time, I mean to bring Port Chief Ren as well."

"A superb judgment. To let talent of that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠order rot would be a waste."

"Now then, Household Sima. I'll set you a problem."

I fixed Wen Chong with a look full of mischief. At the sudden question his eyes went round.

"A problem? Must I get it right?"

"Well. I would very much like the correct answer."

"Then please, speak."

"Listen carefully. A high official, and a low clerk. Of the two, who do you think actually runs the world?"

Wen Chong stroked his chin and sank into thought. It seemed an obvious question, yet he could not answer easily while he tried to read my intent. At last he spoke.

"Drawing the grand design and setting the direction — that belongs to the high official. But the ones who actually push the wheel, take the muddy water in the face, check the work, and see it done are the low clerks. If they stop, administration and army alike are paralyzed."

"Correct. Precisely so."

I snapped my fingers, satisfied.

"That is exactly it. From now on, you and Port Chief Ren will bring those low clerks over to our side. My father, my elder brothers, and those strategists who fancy themselves clever — they watch only the stars above the clouds, and never see the dirt beneath their feet."

Wen Chong swallowed dry. He felt the mischief leave my eyes, and a cold light take its place.

"Young master, this humble officer is dull, and cannot grasp the full depth of your meaning. Please unfold it for me a little further."

"Come now — dull? Modesty past a point is arrogance."

I laughed under my breath, leaned close to Wen Chong, and went on in a low, secret voice.

"When the Former Han fell and the Later Han was founded, the realm was in utter chaos. Imperial commands did not run, and the hegemon of each region behaved as a king. Emperor Guangwu, who founded the Later Han, was himself once the chief of a bandit band. And Emperor Gao, who founded the Former Han, was nothing more than a Pavilion Chief."

"......"

"The world has gone mad enough for Dong Zhuo to swap out emperors. I believe that chaos will come again. If it does, Father becomes king of Jizhou — and before long a fight over the succession will break out in our own house. My brothers laugh and chat easily enough now. When the time comes, they will struggle for power."

A chill crawled up Wen Chong's spine. In the young master's eyes, a future already blew with a wind of blood. By instinct he bent deep at the waist.

"I understand. This Wen Chong will give every ounce of a servant's labor to pack the ground firm beneath the young master's feet. Only command me."

"Are you confident?"

"It isn't difficult. Those above usually treat those below as things to be worked to death. They never think of making them their own. I'll comb Ye County from the bottom up. No — I'll begin here, and turn the low clerks and the officers to the young master's side."

"Yes. That is precisely the attitude. I'm truly grateful."

I smiled, bright, and gripped Wen Chong's shoulder hard. There was warmth in the touch, and no calculation in it.

Just as I thought.

I looked into Wen Chong's steady eyes and turned over the memories of my previous life. Brilliant stars set, and rise again. The ground is always where it is. In the modern age, what actually moves an army is not the general but the company officers and the sergeants, and what actually conducts the business of a state is not the minister but the civil servants.

A grand administrator or a county magistrate passes through like the wind. The ones who seize the real work and shake it are the men beneath them — a county's clerks, a township's salaried officers and its Three Elders, the Pavilion Chiefs of the villages. Local magnates. They rule a region as deep-rooted trees rule the soil. That web of capillaries had to come into my grasp.

It would take time. But I would need time myself before I came of age and could move in earnest, and so I could afford to wait that long. If I treated them with true regard? They would follow me.

An easy smile spread at the corner of my mouth. When I came of age and finally spread my wings, my father would be king of Jizhou in name. Within, the rule would be mine.