Similarly “exiled” to the Western Regions, Deng Cui remained a rising star in the Capital, with almost everyone believing his departure was only temporary and that he would soon return to the Emperor’s side with unlimited prospects. Meanwhile, Marquis Zhang Yin had fallen into a new low point – his grandson’s crimes had not yet been fully atoned for, and he had once again disappointed the Emperor’s trust by remaining inactive at the most crucial moment.

These two men of vastly different temperaments were now to carry out the same mission.

Zhang Yin was older, more experienced, and more seasoned, yet he harbored no competitive spirit whatsoever. Content to take a subordinate position, he consciously walked behind when entering the room.

Deng Cui showed no courtesy either. After paying respects to the Emperor, he answered every question readily and spoke eloquently, his meaning clear: “A great general adapts to circumstances. There are dedicated officials for troop formations and battle arrangements – they don’t need the general to handle everything personally.”

Deng Cui’s several victories had contained considerable elements of luck, but he had indeed achieved “adapting to circumstances,” displaying profound strategic thinking. Han Ruzi could not underestimate him, and smiled, “Then does a great general make no preparations before battle?”

“There are preparations – troops, horses, money, grain, and trust.” Deng Cui counted on his fingers, exactly five items. “In short, the more the better. The more of these five things available, the more choices a general has, and the more composed he can be when adapting to circumstances. With too little, even the most capable general is simply marching to his death.”

Zhang Yin was left standing to the side, unable to interject at all.

“Did General Deng Liao also employ this approach?” Han Ruzi asked. Though he felt Deng Cui was capable of serving as a great general, he still felt somewhat uneasy.

“When the Grand General was alive, I was still a child with little contact with him. But according to clan elders, the Grand General was especially skilled at these ‘five requirements.’ Before each battle, he would persistently badger the Martial Emperor. If he couldn’t obtain more supplies, he would demand better quality – fifty thousand soldiers would be equipped with at least one hundred thousand fine horses, with countless transport workers. While other generals often ended battles with nothing left and needed to quickly return to the city for resupply, only the Grand General always had surplus provisions.”

That was the unique fighting style of Great Chu during its most prosperous period. By the Martial Emperor’s later years, it was already difficult to sustain, and after Han Ruzi ascended the throne, no war had allowed Chu forces to operate so freely.

Han Ruzi smiled and shook his head. Deng Cui was indeed a great general, but not one the court could currently afford. “What does Marquis Zhang have to say?”

Zhang Yin looked up at the Emperor and thought for a long while before stammering out a sentence: “This subject… is willing to serve… as a dedicated… official.”

Han Ruzi lacked the patience and said, “Marquis Zhang, please submit a written memorial.”

“Already… written.” Zhang Yin fumbled in his robes and pulled out a stack of papers. “It’s a draft… Your Majesty, please… forgive me.”

Zhang Youcai stepped forward to receive the papers and handed them to the Emperor.

It was indeed a draft – the papers were wrinkled, and the writing showed numerous corrections. Han Ruzi glanced at it without reading carefully. “Deng Cui, the court faces hardships and insufficient resources. Troops, horses, money, and grain cannot all be provided in abundance. What We can give you is only trust.”

Anyone else would have kowtowed in gratitude at this point, but Deng Cui showed a thoughtful expression, clearly calculating and weighing options. After a moment, he said, “That works too. But troops, horses, money, and grain are all tangible things, while trust is something you can neither see nor touch. How will Your Majesty prove it?”

The faces of Zhang Youcai and several other eunuchs changed. Marquis Zhang Yin, being an honest man, was convinced by this single questioning remark that the Emperor trusted Deng Cui extraordinarily, far beyond ordinary subjects.

Han Ruzi felt both amused and exasperated, knowing what Deng Cui was hinting at. He smiled and said, “Then don’t look and don’t touch – carefully comprehend it.”

Deng Cui actually pondered for a while, then bowed with a smile: “This subject has comprehended quite a bit.”

After sending the two men away, Zhang Youcai couldn’t help but say, “This Deng Cui is really… really… hard to describe.”

Han Ruzi chuckled. “A general whom even his own people can’t figure out – you can imagine how much more the enemy can’t figure him out.”

“Your Majesty truly intends to make him a great general?” Zhang Youcai asked in surprise.

“Mind your own business.” Han Ruzi picked up the papers Zhang Yin had left behind. Strictly speaking, this wasn’t a memorial but rather a strategic proposal for governing the Western Regions. Though inarticulate in speech, Zhang Yin was quite fluent with his pen, having written twenty to thirty pages totaling over ten thousand words.

Han Ruzi read through it three times and couldn’t help but sigh. There were no perfect people in the world. Someone like Zhang Yin, if he had just two or three more points of “adaptability,” would be a military talent that came once in a century, but he was overly cautious when facing battle.

Of the five essentials – troops, horses, money, grain, and trust – Zhang Yin had requested none in his memorial. His suggestion was to adapt to local conditions and use the strength of the thirty-plus nations in the Western Regions to build fortifications for defense. What he needed was first, discretionary authority to mint seals and enfeoff kings in the Western Regions, requesting court ratification afterward, and second, a group of people familiar with Western Region affairs to assist him.

To avoid making the court suspect he wanted to monopolize a region, Zhang Yin would take up his post alone, leaving his family in the Capital, including his only grandson.

Zhang Yanghao had already returned to the Capital from Shattered Iron City and was staying at home, forbidden to step outside the door.

The group of assistants Zhang Yin requested was rather unusual – they were all prisoners in jail, though he didn’t explain in detail.

Han Ruzi slept relatively early that day. The next morning at dawn, he held court with his ministers. This was a ceremonial affair that ended quickly, and the Emperor then moved to the nearby Hall of Diligent Administration, where he would manage state affairs with several key ministers.

When Han Ruzi had been a puppet emperor, he also sat here daily, but he was positioned far from the ministers and mostly heard buzzing discussions. Only during arguments could he make out some words clearly. The drafted edicts were never sent to him for review, so he wasn’t particularly familiar with the court’s processes and approaches to handling government affairs.

After the first day, he discovered it wasn’t difficult at all.

The Hall of Diligent Administration was presided over by the Chancellor. Memorials from various ministries and officials from all regions were mostly gathered here. He would discuss responses to the memorials with several designated ministers, then submit them to the Emperor for review. After receiving approval, they would be formally dispatched to the appropriate offices. Only relatively important memorials required the Emperor’s personal written response.

Normal memorials could be approved with simply “Noted” and handed to the relevant bureau for filing, possibly never to be taken out again. Other memorials raised various issues – drought in one place, flooding in another, some bureau wanting to do something, and so forth. Most of the time, the Chancellor’s response was to forward the memorial to the appropriate office, have that bureau provide a clear opinion, then have the Chancellor approve it. This back-and-forth could continue for days or even months.

The Emperor’s duty was to supervise the normal operation of all this and control the most crucial imperial seal – without the seal’s imprint, the Chancellor’s responses were just empty words.

Only in extremely rare cases, such as when an important official position became vacant, or major events like the Qi rebellion or Xiongnu invasion occurred, would heated debates arise.

The entire process was systematic, and the Emperor could halt it at any time to add his own opinions, but it wasn’t very useful. Han Ruzi quickly discovered that his ideas wouldn’t be better than the professional responses from the bureaus. Rather than delay the process, it was better to observe from the sidelines.

The first day’s work was quite heavy, with several matters that indeed required the Emperor’s personal approval.

Memorials hoping to invest the Emperor’s birth mother as a second Empress Dowager had piled up like a mountain, with various reasons, even rising to the level of affecting the stability of the Great Chu dynasty.

This was precisely the first matter Han Ruzi wanted to resolve. He gave approval for the Ministry of Rites and Bureau of Imperial Clan Affairs to proceed, then sent it to Cishun Palace for the Empress Dowager’s review. This was both etiquette and regulation that the Emperor could not bypass.

Cishun Palace responded quickly, sending it back that afternoon. It was unclear who had written it, but in any case, the Empress Dowager praised the Emperor’s filial devotion and requested that the matter be handled promptly.

Next came tax reductions for various regions. Great Chu had been at war for years, especially in Qi, Dai, Yan and other places, which had suffered considerable damage. After Han Ruzi left Jincheng City, he had toured around, granting general amnesties wherever he went. This time was formal confirmation, extending the time limits according to circumstances, ranging from one to five years.

Shen Mingzhi and other ministers suggested this matter could be delayed slightly, to be announced when Empress Dowager Wang received her title, to demonstrate Empress Dowager Wang’s compassion for the people.

Han Ruzi agreed.

Next came post-war merit rewards and punishments. The Ministry of War and other bureaus had already drafted plans that were enormously costly, but not a bit could be saved. Most people’s rewards followed standard protocols, but only Cui Hong, Chai Yue, and Deng Cui required the Emperor’s separate determination.

Han Ruzi remembered the Empress’s request, so he marked Cui Hong and Deng Cui as “pending” and only promoted Chai Yue to General of Cavalry and Grand Marshal of the Northern Army.

General of Cavalry was an honorary title, while Grand Marshal of the Northern Army was the actual position. But the Northern Army had suffered heavy casualties and had returned to the Capital to recuperate, so Chai Yue was actually commanding the entire army beyond the frontier in a temporary capacity.

This was the Great Chu’s established practice – to separate title from authority for frontier generals, to prevent them from becoming too powerful with their troops.

Han Ruzi specifically checked and found that veteran general Fang Daye had been appointed Colonel of the Northern Army, which was quite good.

After finishing these matters, it was nearly evening. Acting Chancellor Shen Mingzhi hoped to continue discussions the next day, but Han Ruzi insisted on continuing because there was still one very important matter that urgently needed handling.

During the Emperor’s confinement in Jin City, some civil officials had died for their cause, while others had distinguished themselves. Beyond normal rewards, vacant positions also needed to be filled quickly.

Actually, when the Emperor continued his inspection tour outside the capital, suitable people had already been found to temporarily fill the corresponding positions, waiting only for his return to confirm their appointments. Only one most important position remained – the ministers didn’t mention it, nor were there any memorials about it. The Emperor needed to take the initiative.

Acting Chancellor Shen Mingzhi should be promoted to true Chancellor. In his position, having no faults was itself merit, and the Emperor could find no reason to continue observing him.

Yang Feng’s request had not yet received formal approval, so he remained in the Hall of Diligent Administration – as Keeper of the Imperial Seal, this was his first time managing the actual imperial seal.

Seeing that evening was approaching, Yang Feng gave the Emperor meaningful looks. Han Ruzi knew he could wait no longer, so he spoke up, praising Shen Mingzhi’s talent and virtue, and decided to formally appoint him as Chancellor of Great Chu.

Shen Mingzhi kowtowed in gratitude, other ministers offered congratulations, and the first day of court discussions finally ended.

When Han Ruzi returned to his bedchamber, it was nearly the second watch of the night. He discovered the Empress was not there and felt puzzled. He summoned Liu Jie to inquire and learned that he had failed to issue an imperial edict – the Empress had already returned to live in Autumn Faith Palace.

Inside and outside the palace, there were rules and customs everywhere. Han Ruzi realized that throughout the entire day, he hadn’t accomplished a single thing he wanted to do, and he absolutely didn’t want to end the day by sleeping alone.

It was already late, and issuing an edict to summon the Empress would be too rushed. The rules served their purpose at this moment – Liu Jie reminded him that the Emperor could choose to sleep in any consort’s bedchamber at any time.

So Han Ruzi went to stay at Autumn Faith Palace.

Empress Cui Xiaojun was somewhat surprised but very happy.

Lying in bed, after chatting for a while, Han Ruzi asked, “Do you miss the Weary Marquis’s mansion?”

“Mm.” Cui Xiaojun didn’t dare answer directly, because she missed it so much her heart ached. If she had a choice, she would rather be the Weary Marquis’s wife again, but such words were absolutely not something an Empress should say.

“I’m going to renovate the Weary Marquis’s mansion and give it to you as a gift,” Han Ruzi paused. “And to myself as well.”

Han Ruzi had to find a place to escape the constraints of the imperial palace and the court. Rules and customs had their benefits, but they were more suitable for mediocre emperors, not for emperors who wanted to achieve something.

If you are reading this on an aggregator site, do consider visiting https://tuzhitranslations.wordpress.com/ to support this translation project by leaving a comment.

← CH 365