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The side hall of Weiyang Palace did not have the high dais and elevated imperial throne of the main hall. There was only a platform, raised a mere twenty to thirty centimeters or so. Behind this platform stood a desk carved with dragon patterns and filled with gold powder, and behind this desk sat Liu Xie. At his back was a large screen, roughly four meters wide and two meters high. The screen was lacquered with a black base, upon which auspicious clouds and dragon forms were painted in red, the contours then outlined in gold. The Han-dynasty dragon did not possess the elaborate, intricate scales and patterns seen in the later dynasties.
It was more a simplified, ideological representation of the dragon form, stripped of extraneous details, which only served to make it appear all the more uniquely archaic and grand. It was rather like the Han emperors themselves, who, it seemed, were never particularly fastidious or delicate, nor overly concerned with so-called minutiae. They were even, to some extent, rather rough and careless, often taking things for granted, making mistakes, and only afterward examining and bitterly regretting them. Just like Liu Bang. Just like Liu Che.
Liu Xie appeared exceedingly pleased. After initially inquiring briefly about the situation in Bingzhou and about Fei Qian personally, he launched into a speech of his own, displaying to Fei Qian the macro-level thinking of a juvenile sovereign.
Liu Xie extended three fingers and declared: "Loyalty, reverence, and refinement—these are the Way of the Three Kings. The Way operates in cycles, ending only to begin again. When loyalty decays, lesser men turn crude and wild. When reverence decays, lesser men turn to superstition and ghosts. When refinement decays, lesser men become narrow and petty... General Fei, which has decayed in the present age?"
'This, well...' Fei Qian pondered for a moment and replied, "At present... refinement has decayed?" Three choices—A, B, or C, which to choose? Who could possibly know the correct one? He could only hazard a guess at the one that seemed most plausible.
Liu Xie clapped his hands together. "Precisely! During the Zhou and Qin, refinement fell into decay. The Exalted Ancestor rose from common cloth and rescued narrow pettiness with loyalty. Thus, the Han arose. Emperor Wu, with his grand vision and great strategy, saw loyalty begin to decay and succeeded it with reverence—expelling the barbarians without, cultivating laws and standards within.
Thus, the Han grew mighty. Emperor Guangwu received the Mandate to continue the Han patrimony. As reverence decayed, he carried it on with refinement—cleansing the realm, governing to protect the people. Thus, the Han endured! Now, peace has persisted for so long. The people have grown weary of excess and deceit; their spirits yearn to return to virtue. They have lost their loyalty and generosity. This is precisely the moment when refinement has decayed..."
O'h. So he had guessed correctly? Yet this line of reasoning... Hm.' Setting all else aside for a moment, simply considering that Liu Xie, at his age, could possess such a capacity for logical thought—it was truly remarkable. Was it a rarity, or perhaps, could it be said that disaster itself was a form of wealth, forcing one to mature at an accelerated pace?
Fei Qian said, "Your Majesty speaks truly. Times change, circumstances shift, the vast sea becomes mulberry fields. No single affair, no single policy can serve as a panacea for ten thousand generations."
Liu Xie nodded. He either did not fully grasp Fei Qian's meaning, or he simply wished to pour out the beans from his jar to someone without restraint. Either way, he seemed not to have pondered the words at all, or perhaps did not even care what Fei Qian had said, for he continued on: "Now that the traitor Dong has been beheaded, the hearts of the people are already aligned with virtue.
Renown continues in virtue; actions may now purify the Way. We shall then gather up all the arms under heaven, sweep clear the chaos within the realm, illuminate the statutes and laws, the rites and ceremonies, and bestow virtue and blessings upon the fortunes of the Han house. Then shall the four seas be at peace, the realm shall flourish, the hundred families shall rejoice, and ten thousand generations shall know tranquility."
This was to express that Liu Xie himself intended to become a sovereign of sagely virtue, was it? But...
Fei Qian hesitated slightly, uncertain whether he should speak, or whether, if he did, his words could be understood, could be taken to heart. Liu Xie looked at Fei Qian. Aside from the unburdened relief of having expressed his own views freely and fully, there seemed to be, lurking within his eyes, a faint trace of nervousness.
Such a child, barely ten years old!
Fei Qian sighed inwardly, lowered his head in a bow, and praised him: "Your Majesty possesses such a grand vision. Your servant shall naturally devote his utmost strength to it. May Your Majesty prize wise and worthy ministers, distance yourself from sycophants and schemers, open wide the paths of speech, make your nature bright and discerning, extend your might across the four seas, and once more sing the Song of the Great Wind."
Liu Xie let out a long, deep breath, nodded, and after a few more idle words, allowed Fei Qian to take his leave.
By the time Fei Qian exited Weiyang Palace, it was already past noon. The sun hung in the sky, pouring forth what seemed an inexhaustible torrent of heat. Yet Fei Qian felt little warmth upon his body.
It was clear to see that Liu Xie had been stifled to the breaking point. For so long, as little more than a puppet emperor, he had lived every single day beneath an enveloping shadow. That desolation and terror deep within—the fear that each morning upon opening his eyes might be the last time he beheld the world—was not something everyone could comprehend or understand. The world was vast, but Liu Xie's world was terribly small. He was only just now beginning to attempt, using his own mind, his own understanding, to reach out and touch this world from which he had been isolated.
In that moment within Weiyang Palace, Fei Qian had considered speaking—telling him of some of the problems that might arise in the future, of some of the calamities that might yet befall. But seeing Liu Xie's smile, and the faint trace of nervousness, of hopeful longing hidden just behind that smile, he had hesitated in the end. He had let it go and said nothing. How could one explain to a half-grown child of ten that not all disasters are followed by happiness?
That those who strike down the villain are not necessarily good people themselves? That even wanting to do something, resolving to do something, does not mean one will certainly be able to accomplish it?
The Old Man in the Sky delights in nothing so much as toying with mortals—none can compare. He will always set all manner of obstacles along the path, cause all manner of incidents to erupt, force people to endure all manner of blows, and suffer all manner of agonies. Yet when the final moment arrives, the Old Man in the Sky will very merrily inform this warrior who has struggled his entire life: "My apologies, but the success you seek—I do not have it here either."
Liu Xie, a ten-year-old emperor, the inheritor of this Great Han dynasty—could he understand this?
Thus, in the end, Fei Qian had resorted to half-flattery and half-formula, brushing him off. It was just like in the later ages, when praising a young niece at home: "You are the most beautiful little princess in all the world." Everyone knew it was false; only this "most beautiful little princess in all the world" believed it to be true, and was happy because of it. Fei Qian did not want to, could not bear to, personally and forcibly pierce that small measure of happiness Liu Xie had only just managed to find. Besides, even if he had pierced it, Liu Xie might not have been willing to believe him. People, after all, only face the truth before their eyes after they have smashed their own heads against it until the blood flows.
Leaving the palace grounds, Fei Qian took the reins his personal guard handed him, swung himself onto his horse, and turned his head to look back at Weiyang Palace, which, beneath the sunlight, seemed to shimmer with a five-colored halo. He remained silent for a long while. Suddenly, a soldier from the ranks stepped forward beside him, cupped his hands, and said, "This humble one, by order of the Marquis of Wen, has been awaiting the General of the Household here for a long while now!"
Fei Qian turned his head. The man seemed somewhat familiar. He blinked and said, "Are you a personal guard of the Marquis of Wen?"
The soldier grinned. "This humble one is He Yu. Back in Luoyang, it was this humble one who guided the way as well."
"Ah, ha, good! Lead the way ahead!" Fei Qian remembered now. This He Yu, it seemed, after being rescued by Lü Bu, had become one of Lü Bu's personal guards. Just as well—Fei Qian now also felt like drinking some wine, to temporarily cast aside those vexing thoughts.