Chapter 28: An Ill-Omened Feast

The banquet had progressed through three rounds of wine and five courses of delicacies. Dong Zhuo cleared his throat and waved his hand, signaling the singers and dancers to withdraw. The vast banquet hall fell silent, and all eyes converged upon him.

Dong Zhuo glanced at Li Ru, saw his slight nod, and stood up. Gripping the hilt of his sword, he said in a deep voice, "I have a proposal; let the ministers hear me. The Son of Heaven is the master of all people; without majesty, one cannot serve the ancestral temple and the altars of state. The current Emperor is weak and timid, unlike the Prince of Chenliu, who is wise and studious, and worthy of the great throne. I intend to depose the Emperor and install the Prince of Chenliu. What do you ministers think?"

In an instant, the banquet hall buzzed like a hive of bees, filled with murmurs and whispers.

Many officials instinctively turned to look at Wang Yun and Yuan Wei. To their surprise, the two leaders of the scholarly gentry sat like wooden idols, eyes fixed on their own noses, neither moving nor uttering a single word.

What could this mean? Some were confused, while others, sensing the underlying intent, also remained silent.

In truth, to these aristocratic clans, it mattered little whether Liu Bian or Liu Xie sat on the throne. Whichever one it was, they would still need the gentry to administer the government to ensure that official decrees reached the fields and villages. They had previously favored Liu Bian because the "pure" scholarly faction needed to align with the consort clan to destroy the eunuchs; thus, Liu Bian, born of the He family, was the natural choice. Besides, a weak emperor is easier to control, is he not?

Replacing him with Liu Xie was no great hardship for the gentry; he was still a young emperor who would be just as dependent upon them. Furthermore, with General-in-Chief He Jin dead and the He clan on the verge of collapse, there was little profit in clinging to a Liu Bian branded by the He family.

Wang Yun and Yuan Wei understood Dong Zhuo’s motives perfectly: Liu Xie had been raised by Empress Dowager Dong and thus shared the "Dong" name, granting him a veneer of kinship. As for the excuse that Liu Xie was more intelligent than the current Emperor—well, the throne had rarely been awarded based on intelligence.

The silence of Wang Yun and Yuan Wei was a statement in itself: "We do not necessarily oppose this, but Dong Zhuo, you have neither consulted us nor announced this with any decorum. We are not pleased." In their eyes, Dong Zhuo placing Liu Xie on the throne was merely a repeat of the cycle of consort power—the He clan falls, the Dong clan rises. They had only just disposed of the He family, and now they were to face the Dong family; it was understandably frustrating.

Moreover, they had slaughtered the eunuchs so thoroughly that they no longer had a faction to play against the consort clans. If Dong Zhuo succeeded in establishing a new consort power, the Dong family would hold absolute sway, and the scholarly gentry would endure a long, difficult period. This was the true source of their anxiety.

Who sat on the throne mattered little, so long as he bore the surname Liu. If not for the fact that the people had recognized the Liu family for centuries, even men like Yuan Wei and Wang Yun might have been tempted to taste the throne themselves.

Yuan Wei glanced at Wang Yun from the corner of his eye and saw that Wang Yun was doing the same. Their gazes met, each mentally cursing the other as an "old fox," before they lowered their eyes once more, returning to their statuesque silence.

With the leaders of the two greatest factions refusing to speak, their followers likewise remained mum. For a time, the vast hall was filled with buzzing whispers, but not a single person stood to voice an opinion.

Seeing the scholars remain silent, Ding Yuan—Ding Jianyang—became frantic. What was going on? No wonder that Xiliang ruffian had not replied to his letters; he had been planning to seize the power for himself!

Ding Yuan fumed. Had he not been the first to respond to the call of the state? Had he not been the first to arrive in Luoyang to protect the throne? Had his resolve not been the firmest? If not for the late General-in-Chief He Jin being led astray by the whims of his sister, the Empress Dowager, would that Xiliang brute ever have had the chance to dictate matters?

Ding Yuan had expected the scholarly faction to tear Dong Zhuo to shreds for his talk of deposition. Yet, they sat there mute. Was this not a tacit admission that this Xiliang warrior could do as he pleased? If Dong Zhuo succeeded, he would undoubtedly become the supreme consort power, and what would that leave for Ding Yuan? His hopes of securing titles and prosperity for his descendants would vanish like smoke. Was he to return to that bitter, cold frontier to guard the borders? That would never do.

Absolutely not!

In a fit of fury, Ding Yuan stood up and overturned the table before him, sending wine and delicacies flying in a chaotic mess. Pointing a finger at Dong Zhuo, he shouted, "Impossible! Impossible! Who are you to speak such reckless words? The Emperor is the legitimate son of the late Emperor, and he has committed no fault. How can you dare to propose his deposition? Do you intend to commit treason?"

*Dong Zhuo, you Xiliang ruffian, I shall brand you with the charge of treason first. You want to be a consort power and hoard the spoils? Not without me!*

Dong Zhuo was startled to see that it was Ding Yuan who first stood in opposition. When he heard the word "treason," his rage flared. What did he mean, treason? Was this not a deliberation? If he were truly committing treason, would he be bothering to discuss it?

Deep down, Dong Zhuo had regarded Ding Yuan as a fellow frontier general who understood the hardships of the borderlands—a man who was practically one of his own. When Li Ru had previously suggested seizing Ding Yuan’s army, Dong Zhuo had refused, calling him a fellow countryman. And yet, while others remained silent, this "countryman" was the first to plunge a knife into his back!

And to brand him with such a heavy charge!

"Ding Yuan," Dong Zhuo thought, "have you ever seen a minister planning treason announce it in public? I am not the first to change an emperor—how did the Emperors Chong and Zhi reign and die?"

Dong Zhuo grew increasingly incensed. His Xiliang instincts, honed by years of frontier life, took over: if there is a conflict, settle it with a fight. Whoever has the bigger fist is in the right. If a fight doesn't settle it, use blades—whoever survives is right, and the dead have no complaints.

Dong Zhuo drew his sword and strode toward Ding Yuan. If you have an issue with me, fine! Let us settle it in a duel; the winner shall have his way!