Chapter Thirty-Four: Resolution

Once a person grows old, nostalgia easily takes hold. Now over seventy, he could feel he was no longer as ruthless as before; otherwise, how could someone as common as Yang Guozhong have risen so far? To stir an old man’s sentimental memories without arousing resentment—could those talentless types even learn a fraction of this skill? Li Linfu scoffed inwardly.

When the time was right, he spoke calmly: “Last month, Physician Wang—pardon my slip of the tongue—criminal Wang Hong himself visited my residence and discussed with me allocating a sum from the Jianghuai salt tax for the repair of Hui Mausoleum. I immediately objected, thinking Your Majesty’s benevolence would not permit the use of public funds for private purposes. The next day, he came again, suggesting the surplus from the horses traded with the Uighurs be used instead. I pondered for a long time, fearing the border generals might manipulate the funds, and still did not agree. Five days later, he returned once more…”

“So you’re saying Wang Hong met with you several times, all for the repair of Hui Mausoleum?” Li Longji, hearing this, sensed something amiss and interrupted.

Li Linfu feigned surprise, taking out a stack of papers from his sleeve: “These are memorials Wang Hong presented to me on each visit. Fearing court gossip, he sought my counsel for a proper method that would neither harm Your Majesty’s filial reputation nor burden the treasury. Hence the repeated visits. As for secret meetings, I dare not shoulder such charges; I ask Your Majesty to judge clearly.”

Li Longji took the papers, feeling a myriad of emotions. The handwriting was clearly not freshly written, and with Yang Guozhong’s report barely minutes old, even a sage like Li Linfu could not have forged them so quickly. He had spoken truthfully.

His elder brother had passed ten years ago; the mausoleum had been neglected as long. No wonder his heart felt heavy today—it was this matter weighing on him.

“Wang Hong did not betray my trust, after all.”

Li Linfu finally relaxed, echoing, “His loyalty remains with Your Majesty, though his conduct was too reckless and violated the laws—he cannot escape punishment.”

Li Longji wished to speak no more of the man. He handed the papers to an attendant and picked up another sheet from the desk: “Let the Chancellor oversee this matter. If funds are insufficient, draw from the inner treasury. When repairs are finished, burn this at the mausoleum.”

Li Linfu looked and recognized the poem he had written in his own study.

“I accept your command, Your Majesty. There is no need to use public or private funds; I have a way to arrange this properly.”

“What method?”

“We shall use the resources of enemy states.” Li Linfu stood, smoothing his sleeves, and produced another document, handing it over: “Yesterday, I received a letter from the Protectorate General of Anxi. The Military Commissioner Wang Zhengjian is gravely ill and cannot fulfill his duties; he asks that Feng Changqing be appointed as acting successor.”

Wang Zhengjian? Li Longji remembered him; he had served for over ten years in Beiting, diligent and steady, neither outstanding nor flawed. He had only taken over Anxi late last year—how could he be incapacitated already?

“Wang Zhengjian—related to Wang Hong?” he asked.

“Your Majesty is perceptive. They are both from the Taiyuan Wang clan; Wang Zhengjian is the criminal’s uncle.”

Li Longji said nothing further, examining the memorial. This was no report of illness—it was a final testament. Likely, Wang Zhengjian had already passed away.

He thought of Wang Hong, whom he had just ordered to end his own life. Last month, the man had been fervently planning for him; now, the distant border general was dying as well. His mood grew gloomier.

“If medicine fails, prepare an imperial edict: grant his son a fifth-rank post, as for the rest, approve as his letter requests.” Li Longji pondered over Feng Changqing’s name. “But can Feng Changqing shoulder such responsibility?”

“That is precisely why I sought an audience,” Li Linfu replied unhurriedly. “The Anxi garrisons have assembled, awaiting orders. Since Wang Zhengjian can no longer serve, another must be chosen. Feng Changqing was recommended by Gao Xianzhi, the Right Guard General. Whether he is fit, I request Your Majesty summon Gao Xianzhi for inquiry.”

It was indeed a prudent suggestion. Li Longji nodded slightly, and the attentive eunuch Gao Lishi immediately went to make arrangements.

The Flower Jade Pavilion stood at the southwest corner of Xingqing Palace, some five hundred paces from the palace gate. Normally, it would take less than a quarter hour to reach, yet today, Yang Guozhong had been walking nearly half an hour and still saw no sign of the gate.

“Are you worried he’ll persuade His Majesty?” Chen Xilie saw Yang Guozhong’s unsettled demeanor and found it amusing.

“Doesn’t Chancellor Chen worry?”

“What’s the use of worry?” Chen Xilie replied with a mocking smile. “If things could be overturned so easily, Li Genu would not still be standing.”

“You mean all our efforts have been in vain?”

“Nothing is ever truly in vain. His Majesty will not dismiss a Chancellor of twenty years on mere words, nor will he ignore them. Once something takes root in the heart, it is not easily uprooted.”

Yang Guozhong stared in surprise, finding the usually amiable, passive Chancellor strangely unfamiliar.

Chen Xilie, unconcerned with his thoughts, glanced curiously to the side.

“Isn’t that Gao Xianzhi? Why would he come here?”

Yang Guozhong had not noticed; turning, he saw two figures moving away toward the pavilion they had just left.

“Gao Xianzhi?”

“Yes. You must remember—last November, he was transferred from Anxi to Hexi at Li Linfu’s request. Later, former Commissioner An Sishun reported that the local Hu and tribal generals cut their faces and hair to plead for Gao Xianzhi to stay. When he arrived at Wuwei Commandery, he could not take office and had to come to the capital instead. You know what happened next.”

Yang Guozhong recalled—the matter had caused a great uproar and only settled months later, ending with the court’s concession, leaving a deep impression.

“That Korean slave?”

“The very same.” Chen Xilie thought for a moment and came to a conclusion. “If Li Linfu brings him to court now, the western war must be rekindling. A clever move, indeed.”

Seeing Yang Guozhong still confused, he lost interest in explaining further. A man’s stupidity is not a problem; not knowing he is stupid yet holding high office—if Li Linfu were truly ousted, what benefit would it bring the court?

“Let’s go.”

He did not wait for Yang Guozhong, heading straight for the palace gate. Unlike Li Linfu, whose sedan chair could enter all the way to the pavilion, theirs had to stay outside the palace walls.

Yang Guozhong stood, watching the departing figure with a cold snort.

All his life, he had hated those smarter than himself; more so when their position was higher.