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Where there exists a court, there exists politics. Where politics exists, interests inevitably follow. Where interests exist, conflict arises, and likewise, compromise emerges.
This has been the immutable way of China since antiquity.
The most rigid will break; the highest excellence is like water.
When Laozi wrote these two phrases all those centuries ago, one wonders if he recalled his teacher's lesson about the tongue and teeth…
Within the Fei family, mutual compromise had forged a tacit understanding between its members. However, the depth of this understanding and the efficacy it could yield still required the test of time. Nevertheless, on the whole, it was decidedly superior to the previous state of affairs where each pursued their own course.
Initially, Fei Min had intended to return the posthumous manuscripts of Fei Qian's father to him, bundling them with additional texts from the family collection. Yet, in the end, Fei Qian declined to accept them, proposing instead that they continue to be housed within the Fei family archives.
On one hand, the hundred or so bamboo scrolls might have seemed a significant collection to Fei Min and the Fei family, but they were negligible when compared to the vast library of the Cai family. On the other hand, Fei Qian was also using this gesture to signify that he did not seek to sever ties with the Fei clan—that he still placed his trust in Fei Min as the head of the household…
Furthermore, the exchange between Fei Min and Fei Qian at the main gate prior to his departure served as a subtle inquiry and a veiled promise concerning their future interests.
Fei Min's underlying question was this: if he supported Fei Qian now, and should Fei Qian attain significant power and influence in the future, what position would then be allotted to his own two sons?
Fei Qian, in turn, made his position unequivocally clear: regardless of what achievements or status he might acquire in times to come, it would in no way diminish the prospects of Fei Min's two children. He explicitly affirmed that Fei Min's sons were capable of shouldering weighty responsibilities…
As for the nature of these weighty responsibilities, they naturally pertained to the leadership of the Fei clan itself.
Each man's stance was dictated by his own position; their perspectives were inherently different.
To Fei Min, the title of Family Head was a treasure beyond price, but to Fei Qian, it seemed as unappealing as chewed chicken ribs—lacking flavor and hardly worth clinging to.
Thus, as far as the Fei family was concerned, Fei Qian had said all that needed to be said, done all that needed to be done, and made the necessary promises. Now, it remained to be seen how Fei Min would ponder these matters, what calculations he would make over the coming days.
Such is the essence of politics.
The human heart is inscrutable; human words are unreliable.
The most eloquent phrases are ultimately powerless against the stark reality of vested interest. Only the tangible exchange of benefits holds any true substance.
Given Fei Qian's current standing, he could not simply dispatch a minor official from the Grand Tutor's office to utter a few words and settle matters, as the powerful Yuan family might have done. He not only had to leave the scrolls behind as a tangible symbol of his unity with the Fei family but also had to offer Fei Min concrete assurances regarding future advantages…
The world teems with restless activity; the world seethes with relentless strife.
And at this very moment, Fei Qian was waiting in the antechamber of Li Ru's residence.
Outside the hall, a peach tree had begun to blossom. Tender pink petals bloomed with captivating brilliance, emanating the vital breath of spring, nurturing the seeds of life. Each delicate petal quivered tremulously as it danced in the breeze, extravagantly displaying its beauty and its spirited, upward striving vitality.
Seated upon the mat, Fei Qian's thoughts were in tumult. Originally, during his time in Jing and Xiang, he had merely intended to discreetly remove the Cai family's library and then persuade his master, Cai Yong, to depart Luoyang to avoid the impending tragedy. He had not anticipated first encountering Li Ru's blockade of the roads, which forced him into negotiations merely to obtain the necessary travel pass.
The subsequent events at Hangu Pass had unfolded entirely outside Fei Qian's expectations—one dizzying incident after another, a desperate struggle for survival in the jaws of death that had inadvertently thwarted the intricate schemes laid by the scholar-official factions from east of the mountains…
Now, Fei Qian suddenly found himself realizing that his reality was utterly different from what he had initially envisioned back in Jing and Xiang. He was already deeply entangled within the great whirlpool of Luoyang, where two powerful forces were locked in a struggle of wills.
If the clashes of armies at places like Suanzao, Xingyang, the Bian River, and Hangu Pass constituted the bloody, visceral battlefields where flesh met cold steel in a brutal contest of strength, then the imperial court in Luoyang was a bizarre arena of distorted truths, of hard and soft tactics employed in tandem, of invisible, bloodless assassination—a battlefield of verbal warfare and poisonous rhetoric.
Those who only understood how to fight and win on the visceral battlefields, if they remained ignorant of the rules of the game played in this court, would often find themselves defeated in these exchanges of words. More gravely, some who were awe-inspiring and triumphant on the battlefield would meet utter ruin in the court, suffering total defeat and the destruction of their reputations.
On the battlefield, victory could be seized through courage and unyielding resolve. But in the court, there existed only intricate plots and cunning stratagems. Those who blindly relied on brute force would inevitably become pawns, manipulated into circling aimlessly. In the best case, they might become another's enforcer; in the worst, they could be devoured utterly, skin, bones, and all, without ever realizing what was happening.
To become a person who truly held mastery over their own fate in the Han Dynasty, at this critical historical juncture, required the possession of many, many attributes. But two were paramount:
Hard power—military might—on the battlefield, and soft power—political acumen—within the court.
The petty intrigues and mutual undermining found in the office environments of later generations, when compared to the genuine life-and-death struggle waged in this imperial court, were truly insignificant, like a small stream beside a great ocean. He was fortunate, Fei Qian reflected, that he had now recognized this crucial distinction himself and had begun to adapt his approach accordingly, rather than remaining passively lost in thought without taking concrete action.
Visiting Cai Yong was the first step; calling upon Fei Min was the second; and now, seeking an audience with Li Ru constituted the third step…
Li Ru entered the chamber from outside. Fei Qian immediately rose to his feet and offered a respectful salute.
Fei Qian still remembered his first impression of Li Ru. The man had then still cut the figure of an elegant, graceful, and handsome middle-aged statesman, his physique still relatively robust. But now, his wide robes and broad sleeves, stirred by the faint breeze, seemed to hang upon a mere framework of bones, empty and seemingly devoid of flesh and blood…
His eyes were sunken in their sockets, surrounded by dark circles. His complexion was pallid and bore a sickly, bluish tinge, utterly lacking healthy color. Not a trace of the handsome middle-aged man remained; he appeared, instead, as one critically, perhaps terminally, ill.
It was a contrast as stark as that between two entirely different artistic styles.
In truth, Li Ru was utterly exhausted, sustained only by sheer force of will.
After Dong Zhuo, in a fit of rage, had issued the edict for the capital to be moved within five days, the monumental task had fallen into chaotic hands. The relocation of an entire capital was not an affair of one or two individuals; it involved a labyrinth of complexities and competing interests. Furthermore, Luoyang itself already suffered from a severe shortage of competent administrators. Although Fei Qian had previously suggested temporarily employing military scribes to alleviate part of the administrative burden, a multitude of decisions still inevitably found their way to Li Ru's desk, requiring his personal judgment. This absolute indispensability resulted in Li Ru laboring incessantly for long stretches without respite, exacerbating his already extreme fatigue and pushing him further toward collapse.
Li Ru massaged his temples and said without preamble, "For what matter have you come this time, Ziyuan?"
Had Fei Qian not previously offered Li Ru several valuable suggestions, Li Ru would not have granted him an audience at all on this day. He was simply too overwhelmed. Any spare moment was desperately coveted for a few minutes of rest. Consequently, Li Ru had no patience for the usual circumlocutions and pleasantries and came directly to the point the moment he spoke.
Silently, Fei Qian drew a single sheet of paper from within his robes and gestured for a nearby attendant to present it to Li Ru.
Somewhat perplexed, Li Ru accepted the paper, cast a few scrutinizing glances at Fei Qian, and then slowly unfolded it. As his eyes scanned the contents, he could not suppress a start of surprise…
Hmph…
Xi Zhicai…
A native of Yingchuan…
Possessed of unconventional ambition, shrewd and strategic…
First point of suspicion: There are no records of the surname 'Xi' or the compound surname 'Xi Zhi' originating from Yingchuan…
Second point of suspicion: This individual was recommended by Xun Yu...
*****
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