Chapter 907 - 92: Seated Firmly at Diaoyutai, A New Era of Reform

—The strife did not cease.

The matter of the new lord of the realm could be said to have stirred up a bloody storm throughout the entire Great Song.

There was no help for it; the interests involved in this affair were simply too vast.

The business of choosing a new Emperor concerned not merely the honor or disgrace of one collateral branch, but also the forces standing behind them.

Local great clans;

Families bound by marriage alliances;

Everyone stood to profit.

If Gu Hui were to act with more forcefulness, he would in fact be sufficient to steady this struggle, for none would dare display too many problems in front of Gu Hui.

Yet he had from beginning to end shown nothing at all.

And that, in turn, doomed this struggle to unfold.

...

Time flowed on without cease.

Though it was a contest, once Gu Hui once again reestablished the Imperial Censorate, this struggle was, imperceptibly, curbed by him.

Put simply, Gu Hui had granted everyone the opportunity to contend.

But he limited the intensity of their contention.

And most crucially, in order to present themselves well, the various powers cooperated with all that Gu Hui was doing with the utmost eagerness.

In truth, in Gu Yi’s eyes, this was perhaps also one of Gu Hui’s intentions.

Under Heaven today, all things lie in ruins awaiting revival.

If one wishes to settle everything quickly, then it is inevitable that all sides must cede interests and the cake be cut anew.

And in order to show themselves off, to draw more of Gu Hui’s attention upon them,

this became their chance.

As time continued to pass, the whole realm sprouted untold rumors, all telling of the benevolence and righteousness of this or that prince of the blood.

Jiangnan, Lin’an Prefecture.

In tea houses and wine shops, a fine tale quietly began to circulate: it spoke of how, when in former days the Jin Soldiers invaded southward, a certain sixth-generation descendant of the Founding Emperor, who had strayed to this place, upon seeing the common folk driven from their homes, scattered all the few possessions he carried upon him among the starving people, and himself willingly lodged in a ruined temple, making a living by copying scriptures.

Some even "recalled" that this "Lord So-and-so" once, by West Lake, saw a petty clerk from the authorities bullying a fishing family, and, disregarding his own safety, stepped forward to reason with him, so that at last the fishers escaped their wrongful suffering.

The story was told in vivid detail, with time, place, and dialogue all complete.

It ended invariably with a sigh: "Such kindness and love for the people, truly the lingering grace of the Founding Emperor! Alas, his name is unknown, buried among the grasses."

Those who heard it could not help but be moved.

And naturally there were "intent listeners" who pressed to ask just which son of the Founding Emperor this "Lord So-and-so" was descended from,

and where he might now be found.

The storytellers would more often than not speak vaguely, saying only, "I’ve heard he seems to have kinship with a certain scholarly household of Yuezhou."

Behind this rumor stood a circle of Jiangnan gentry-literati closely tied to the great local clans of Yuezhou.

They longed to support a prince of the blood who had ties to Jiangnan’s native forces and understood how to care for this "rich land of southeastern revenues"; this legendary "Lord So-and-so," with his image of clean-handed benevolence and a faint link to Yue, was precisely the ideal symbol for their cause.

Jing Lake Northern Route, Jiangling Prefecture.

On the Yangtze River wharves, in the mouths of dock laborers and traveling merchants, another prince’s "chivalry" was being sung.

The tale said that a certain descendant of the Founding Emperor, fleeing calamity in Jing-Chu, not only never comported himself as a scion of the imperial clan, but instead mixed among the common folk. Once, seeing a merchant caravan attacked by lake bandits, he relied on some Martial Arts he had studied in youth to organize the villagers and unite with the caravan guards, devising a plan to beat back the brigands, thus keeping that stretch of trade route safe.

In the story, this "Young Lord" of the blood was openhanded and true to his word, refusing even a coin of reward, saying only: "The world is in chaos; to defend our lands and protect the people is every man’s duty—how much more so for a son of the Zhao clan?"

The story fermented upon the docks and in the warehouses, embellished and exaggerated, until this prince had all but taken on the aura of a heroic man of the rivers and lakes combined with a humane royal scion.

Driving this rumor were the local powers around Jing Lake whose interests lay in grain transport and trade, together with certain strongmen of the underworld.

Having lived through war, they valued boldness and practical ability in those who would rule, and yearned for a prince who could protect the local commercial order, someone with a touch of "jianghu air" to hold the field in check.

The tale of this "chivalrous" prince of the blood suited their expectations perfectly.

Shu Region and Shaanxi, Lizhou Route.

In the marginal prefectures of the Shu Region, where news came slowly but the folk were fierce, the stories circulating held a still more "legendary" flavor.

It was said that deep in the Qinling Mountains, a certain village had once sheltered a young prince in distress; this man was not only richly learned, but, more rare still, was skilled in medicine and agriculture.

When plague struck the village, he personally tasted every herb to compose decoctions;

when the fields yielded poorly, he improved methods of cultivating the mountain plots.

More wondrous yet, rumor had it he could read the heavens and know fair weather from storm, and had helped the mountain folk avoid several floods.

The villagers all saw him as a "noble benefactor," saying he bore the demeanor of a "Lord Wenkang."

And this "benefactor" remained always in coarse cloth and plain fare, laboring alongside the people.

The story was carried out by traveling merchants and herb-gatherers along the Shu Road, passed by word of mouth at the relay stations on the Tea-Horse Road; the more it spread, the more fantastic it grew, until he almost bore the mysterious halo of a "hidden sage" and one upon whom the Celestial Mandate would fall.

Behind this, faint shadows of certain local scholars and great clans in the Shu Region and Shaanxi could be discerned.

Long distant from the political center, they felt both estranged from and in competition with the southeastern gentry who held court.

To shape the image of a "wise prince" rooted in the borderlands, knowing the people’s suffering and bearing a touch of mystery, could both highlight the "spiritual richness" of the Shu Region and, perhaps, in the future configuration of central power, win them greater voice.

None of this escaped the eyes of the Imperial Censorate.

The rumors in every region, and even the hands that worked behind them.

None of it escaped the eyes of the Gu Clan, and Gu Hui was well aware of it all; yet he never displayed anything, merely sat and watched these people ceaselessly perform.

.....

Within Chuigong Hall, incense smoke curled.

Gu Hui still sat calmly at the lower end of the imperial steps; below the stairs the ministers stood in rows—old officials from the Northern Border steady in bearing, newly attached men from Jiangnan with flickering gazes, and former ministers of the prior Song court with faces full of mixed emotions.