Chapter Fourteen: The Coveted Emperor

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The sky gradually brightened, and thankfully, the night’s clamor had passed, ushering in a new day. No matter who one was, facing the rising sun often brought a refreshing sense of vigor. Fei Qian was no exception. Facing the dawn, he stretched a few times to loosen his limbs, then casually ate some pastries, instantly feeling his energy restored.

After drinking all night and barely sleeping, he surprisingly did not feel much fatigue. Youth was truly a blessing. In later times, such exertion would likely take two or three days to recover from.

Was it due to the body’s nature, or perhaps the difference between ancient and modern lifestyles?

In contrast, Cui Hou appeared somewhat listless, secretly covering his face with his sleeve as he let out a long yawn, his eyes watering slightly. Upon noticing Fei Qian’s gaze, he blushed somewhat. “Ah, my apologies, my apologies. Please forgive me. I must go attend the morning audience with my elder brother Cui Yi. I’ll take my leave first; dear brother, please make yourself comfortable.”

Having spoken, Cui Hou cupped his hands and retreated indoors to change and pay respects to Cui Yi.

In ancient times, certain rituals and norms were admirable, such as the filial duties of children: warming parents in winter and cooling them in summer, attending to them at dusk and rising early to check on them in the morning. In modern times, however, the roles seemed reversed—parents tended to children morning and night, so many grown children, when faced with challenges, first thought about themselves rather than their parents. Whether this was progress or regression was hard to say.

Bathing in the Han dynasty was no simple matter; hot water in large tubs was not readily available everywhere. If one sweated or picked up odors, what was to be done? Ordinary folk without means had to endure, while aristocrats commonly changed their clothes.

Fei Qian also felt it necessary to return to his guest room to change and check on the two children.

To be honest, first, Fei Qian’s soul from the future held no reverence for the emperor; second, the children were simply too young to inspire any awe.

The elder was at most in the first or second year of high school—an age known in later times for rebelliousness and arrogance, sometimes endearing, sometimes exasperating. The younger was just a first grader, at the most adorable and charming stage—capturing the hearts of all regardless of age or gender.

Yet these children were to shoulder the burdens of an entire dynasty and the lives of millions.

When Fei Qian leisurely returned to the guest room, he saw both children already awake, attended by maids, eating pastries and drinking tea. After a brief rest, their complexions were visibly better than the previous night.

The younger child’s eyes darted about, and upon spotting Fei Qian through the window, immediately lit up with a brilliant smile and waved.

Fei Qian smiled back, raised a hand in greeting, and was just about to enter when hurried footsteps approached from afar. Two elderly men came stumbling forward, causing Fei Qian to quickly step aside.

Both elders tried to rush inside but were blocked by the narrow door, getting stuck side by side, making Fei Qian wince on their behalf.

Once they finally squeezed inside, after a brief silence, both fell to their knees with a thud, each clutching one of the elder child’s legs and weeping profusely.

The elder child looked helpless, while the younger rolled their eyes playfully, unaffected, nibbling pastries without pause. Seeing Fei Qian’s astonished expression, they cheekily winked at him when no one was looking.

At this moment, Cui Hou also returned outside, wearing a puzzled expression. He quietly explained to Fei Qian that when he went to pay respects to Cui Yi, he had run into Cui Yi and another elder named Min Gong. Upon hearing that two children had been found at Fei Qian’s place the previous night, the two elders immediately rushed over without hesitation, leaving Cui Hou somewhat baffled.

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Cui Hou was unaware of the full situation, but Fei Qian understood it well.

Sure enough, when Min Gong loudly croaked, “Your Majesty, I am guilty of a grave offense—” Fei Qian saw Cui Hou visibly tremble and then kneel. Noticing Fei Qian’s lack of reaction, Cui Hou even tugged at his sleeve.

Well, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. Kneeling it was. Besides, they usually sat kneeling anyway. Fei Qian accompanied Cui Hou and knelt as well. Everyone inside and outside the courtyard suddenly lowered themselves.

“The nation cannot be without its ruler even for a day. Your Majesty, please return to the capital!” Min Gong declared solemnly, though his tear-streaked face somewhat spoiled the dignity.

Cui Yi was naturally reluctant. The emperor was not someone one could see at will. Having finally returned home, no matter how, he could not just leave so soon. But now lacking official rank and cornered by Min Gong’s righteous argument, he could only reply, “Please allow me a moment to prepare the carriage and ceremonial escort.” At least he wanted people to know the Cui family had contributed! And hoped to keep the emperor for a little while longer to gain some benefit.

Min Gong, experienced and shrewd, knew Cui Yi’s thoughts. Moreover, countless troops were searching; finding and escorting the emperor back to Luoyang quickly would be a great merit. Delaying was not an option—if someone intercepted them on the way, all would be lost. So he sternly barked, “The matter is urgent! Your Majesty must depart immediately!” If delays cost him credit, what would become of him?

Cui Yi, irritated, retorted seriously, “The emperor’s ceremonial escort is incomplete; this would demean His Majesty’s dignity! Such is against protocol—how can I bend the rules?” He was essentially saying, “You take the advantage, leaving me aside? Not on my watch.”

Min Gong replied, “I have a horse to accompany the emperor, who can ride with the Prince of Chenliu. Only one more horse is needed for His Majesty. No other carriages or escorts are necessary—a light cavalry will enter Luoyang directly, avoiding petty thieves.” Cui Yi was powerless; he had no horse of his own. With so many carriages and escorts, how could they avoid detection?

Without waiting for further objection, Min Gong grabbed Emperor Liu Bian’s sleeve and left, making Cui Yi nearly faint with rage.

Cui Yi laughed bitterly, “Fine! Fine! As you say! Prepare one horse!”—He was ruthless!

Min Gong, equally single-minded, immediately led Emperor Liu Bian, Prince of Chenliu Liu Xie, out.

Fei Qian and Cui Hou knelt outside the door, lowering their heads as Min Gong led the emperor and prince away.

Several legs passed in front of Fei Qian’s eyes, then a pair of small feet stopped before him. He looked up slightly and saw Prince Liu Xie standing there, handing him a pastry. “This pastry is still good; share it with you.” Then the child hurried after Min Gong and Liu Bian, departing.

Fei Qian pinched the pastry, both amused and exasperated. The little one’s mind was quite simple—still thinking about the taste of pastries at such a moment? Looking closely, it was only a common pastry made by the Cui household kitchen. He popped it in his mouth. Perhaps because he had not yet eaten that morning, it tasted quite sweet.

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Min Gong’s intentions were good, but too many shared the same view. Less than three li from the Cui estate, they were intercepted by a host of forces. Previously, Min Gong had oppressed Cui Yi with official authority at the Cui estate; now the tides had turned, and he was marginalized and discriminated against.

The Minister over the Masses Wang Yun, Grand Commandant Yang Biao, Left Army Colonel Chunyu Qiong, Right Army Colonel Zhao Meng, Rear Army Colonel Bao Xin, Central Army Colonel Yuan Shao—all outranked Min Gong. Thus, the imperial escort and return to court were no longer his affair. Another round of tearful scenes between ruler and ministers unfolded—strictly speaking, Emperor Liu Bian and Prince Liu Xie watched as the officials wept, then offered some consolation.

Regarding the horse Cui Yi contributed for Liu Bian, the others agreed that returning the emperor to the capital was paramount. At leisure, they might return two horses to Cui Yi as a double thanks for his service to the Han dynasty.

Though not yet arrived in Luoyang, Wang Yun and his party were already elated. With eunuchs slaughtered and external relatives purged, never before since the founding of the Han had there been such clear skies and a bright political atmosphere. How could one not rejoice?

Wang Yun gazed at the rising sun, feeling a surge of righteous energy welling in his chest and abdomen. For a moment, he felt the weight of responsibility; this splendid realm was finally theirs—a group of patient, righteous scholars—ready to take action!

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Before he could fully envision the future, the ground suddenly trembled violently. The horses beneath them began to stir restlessly, neighing.

Wang Yun looked back sharply. In the distance, a large banner rose high, and then more banners appeared, fluttering fiercely in the wind. Beneath the flags, a vast, dark mass of troops surged like a flood along the main road.

Wang Yun’s hands and feet trembled; for a moment, he was at a loss. Fortunately, Rear Army Colonel Bao Xin stepped forward, shouting for the guards to form ranks and protect the emperor, Prince of Chenliu, and the civil officials at the center.

In an instant, the troops surrounded the small formation. The outermost guards paled, let alone the several civil officials who had never experienced war.

Yuan Shao reined his horse beside Bao Xin and shouted loudly, “Who goes there?”

From beneath the banners, the ranks parted left and right. A single rider emerged—broad-shouldered, thick-waisted, with a face full of coarse flesh. He glanced coldly around and flicked his horsewhip casually, his voice deep: “Where is the Son of Heaven?”

Some guards, unable to withstand Dong Zhuo’s authority, instinctively looked back toward the formation.

Dong Zhuo followed their gaze but was blocked by the dense crowd. Angered, he pointed his whip and ordered, “Men, part the ranks!”

Immediately, armored soldiers stepped forward to scatter the formation. Tensions soared, weapons drawn, the atmosphere thick with danger.

Within the ranks, young Emperor Liu Bian gripped the reins tightly. In his short life, he had never witnessed so much bloodshed as during last night. Several times, hot blood splattered on his face and body. Familiar companions were hunted down and slaughtered like dogs.

He had just begun to understand what it meant to be emperor—now death seemed only a step away.

He was terrified, afraid that the next moment he would become cold and pale like those who had died.

Protected and surrounded just today, his heart had finally calmed somewhat. Now, nearing Luoyang, returning to his familiar home, he was intercepted here.

These men looked almost identical to the soldiers who had stormed the palace the previous day—ferocious, exuding a repulsive stench of blood.

He was truly, truly afraid—

He truly, truly did not want to die—

Young Emperor Liu Bian was overwhelmed by the immense turmoil, his throat rasping as he swayed atop his horse.