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Fei Qian felt like a locomotive hurtling forward at full speed—already on the tracks, utterly unable to stop, and not even knowing whether the rails truly existed beneath him. Perhaps he should have been angered by this inexplicably arisen rumor, but he knew that getting angry over things that could no longer be changed held not the slightest value.
Some things would not alter simply because an individual grew angry or enraged. The key was what to do next. Fei Min, an old oil-slick in officialdom, instantly seized upon the flicker of abnormality in Fei Qian.
Fei Qian sighed and glanced left and right. Fei Min understood. He barked orders for all servants to clear the rear hall, warning that anyone caught eavesdropping would be severely punished according to family law. Only then did he lean closer to Fei Qian, inclining his body to hear how Fei Qian would explain.
"Chang'an is not yet at peace, Uncle," Fei Qian said, extending one hand and pointing it toward both ends. In the Han dynasty, there were two things that the gentry clans could never circumvent: one was the imperial house, and the other was the family. Although, strictly speaking, the gentry did not harbor an excessive sense of veneration toward the emperor, under most circumstances, they still required the imperial house to provide the orthodox mandate of appointment. As for the family—that went without saying. Thus, whatever was expected, whatever ought to be done, one still had to carry it out to some degree.
Fei Min furrowed his brow and said, "Yet... he is already dead..."
Fei Qian shook his head. Could this opposition between those west and east of the mountains be resolved simply because a single man had died? The path that had led Dong Zhuo to his doom was not entirely the so-called brutality and reign of terror. Rather, it lay in the fundamentally irreconcilable conflict of interests at the heart of political factionalism. The execution of Yuan Wei—an act that shattered the ethical and doctrinal restraints of the Confucian order—was the final, and heaviest, weight added upon that fundamental conflict of interest, the weight that finally broke the inner defenses of the gentry from east of the mountains.
As for the Emperor... Ever since the founding of the Han dynasty, had there been any shortage of deposed and replaced emperors, that one Liu Bian was hardly the only one?
In Fei Qian's view, Yuan Wei could have been dealt with somewhat later. There had been no need for such haste. At the very least, they should have waited until the realm was awash in the disaster of debased coinage, then subjected him to a series of public condemnations from both court and countryside, a formal court debate, imprisonment, an imperial verdict, and only then, execution.
In other words, if one intended to sling a bucket of filth at someone, one had to make sure the bucket was tightly sealed. How could one order a killing so rashly and directly? It was just like those educational films in later ages that always said one must "represent the moon to destroy you." See, from childhood, one was taught that no matter what one did, one must stand on the ground of righteous cause. Even if there was none, one had to create a "moon-like" righteous stance to occupy.
Perhaps that whole string of muddled, disastrous moves in Dong Zhuo's later period had mostly been because, as Lü Bu had put it, "his brain was sick." Perhaps Dong Zhuo himself had known it, had feared that if he waited even another day, he might forget entirely whether he had resolved to kill Yuan Wei or not.
Fei Min watched Fei Qian remain silent for a long while and assumed that there were words Fei Qian found inconvenient to voice. So, he pondered on his own and ventured tentatively: "Could it be the divide between civil and military?"
Fei Qian swiftly took the opening and said, "Ah, precisely! Uncle's insight is profound..." In truth, Fei Min had touched upon a valid point. Fei Qian then proceeded to expand upon this thread.
After a brief pause, Fei Qian continued, "Uncle, please consider—whom did Dong... favor most?"
"The rear palace... ahem..." Fei Min reflexively caught himself, then quickly corrected course, "...Naturally, it was the military officers from Xiliang..."
Fei Qian nodded. "...Yet Liang Province is barren of classical scholarship..."
Fei Min clapped his hands together. "My worthy nephew speaks truly! This being the case... there is bound to be conflict, ah!" Fei Min sighed, acknowledging the validity of Fei Qian's explanation. The Xiliang officers were Dong Zhuo's trusted confidants. During Dong Zhuo's tenure, they had received some promotions, and most critically, all of them held vast military power. Yet now, due to their innate deficiency in "classical scholarship," they lacked the qualifications to participate in the various political deliberations of the court. Moreover, ideologically, they could not even harmonize with the various factional scholars and celebrated figures of the court; even basic communication between them was exceedingly difficult.
Therefore, after the execution of Dong Zhuo, the inevitable next step would be to strip these Xiliang officers of their authority. Yet unless these officers were utter fools, they would certainly resist. Not resisting meant a dead end; resisting—might there be a glimmer of hope?
Fei Qian's expression suddenly shifted, his heart lurching. If that were the case, could it be that they had also categorized me within Dong Zhuo's Xiliang faction? Son of a—! And here I was, keeping pace with the times, holding high the banner of harmony, presenting auspicious omens!
Fei Min, too, seemed to have realized something. His expression unconsciously hardened somewhat. The likelihood of being targeted seemed all too great. "Better to kill a thousand by mistake than let one slip away..." Fei Qian shook his head, then looked at Fei Min. "...Uncle, this is no longer a matter concerning your nephew alone!"
Fei Min's eyes flickered with shifting thoughts, but in the end, he nodded and repeated, deliberately emphasizing each word: "My worthy nephew speaks with reason. This is no longer a matter concerning you alone!" Fei Min weighed the matter for a long while. Circumstances had changed.
Fei Qian was no longer the insignificant, dispensable figure he had once been—the kind one could discard without a second thought or a trace of regret. Now, Fei Qian could be said to possess, if not the formal title of Inspector of Bingzhou, at least the functional scale of one. To casually abandon all this—not only would Fei Qian be unwilling, but even Fei Min could not bear the thought.
The family, the state, the realm under heaven—the family always came before the state! Moreover, Fei Min had previously assumed that Fei Qian had already negotiated terms with Wang Yun—using Bingzhou as a springboard to leap into a higher official rank within the central court. Thus, though he felt some personal envy and jealousy, he also understood that if Fei Qian truly could ascend to a higher level, it would amount to an earth-shaking transformation for the entire Fei clan.
In the Han dynasty, for an ordinary gentry clan to further evolve into a recognized, established aristocratic lineage, there were two commonly acknowledged, implicit key benchmarks:
First, the family must produce a major court official of the two-thousand-dan rank or above.
Second, the family must have achieved a certain degree of scholarly attainment in classical studies, ideally producing written works transmitted down through disciples. And on these two points, Fei Qian was practically just one leap away from reaching them!
This was something every previous head of the family before Fei Min had striven to achieve yet failed to do! This was the glory of the entire Fei clan. As for the Fei family's internal affairs—those could be slowly dealt with after achieving this grand goal. This was Fei Min's duty as the head of the Fei clan. If, truly during his tenure as clan head, the Fei clan rose to a new height, his name, too, would stand alongside Fei Qian's, forever inscribed with a weighty entry in the family genealogy.
But... He had originally thought this was a trade for Fei Qian, a step up the ladder. Yet now, analyzed this way, it was not a stairway upward, but rather a descent into imprisonment and disgrace! And once Fei Qian was branded as belonging to the Xiliang faction, could the Fei clan then still manage to remain unscathed and alone? If they even lost the very pillar of their support, would they not then be subject to whatever position others wished to force them into? This was not merely Fei Qian's crisis—it was a crisis confronting the entire Fei clan!