The young emperor shuddered.

How could he possibly forget?

When Prince Donghai led large numbers of troops and civilians away from Luoyang, the late emperor could already foresee that Luoyang would be attacked by external enemies, so he brought the imperial clan to beg Prince Donghai to stay.

As one of the imperial clan and the youngest descendant at the time, the young emperor was also brought before Prince Donghai, hoping he would remember their shared ancestry and stay to protect the imperial family.

But Prince Donghai still left, taking with him most of Luoyang’s population—the aristocratic families and officials, more than half followed him away.

What the young emperor didn’t say aloud was that his father had actually wanted to leave with Prince Donghai too.

But Prince Donghai felt they were too closely related by blood to the late emperor. He was tired of being regent, so he refused them.

The young emperor still remembered what his father said at the time: “Prince Donghai did this deliberately. He deliberately took the main army and most of the court away, leaving Luoyang with empty defenses. Forget the Xiongnu—any random army could destroy Luoyang. When His Majesty and we meet disaster, he’ll be outside and can claim the throne at any time.”

Therefore, his father constantly urged the late emperor to move the capital and leave, and the late emperor had made up his mind. But they had barely left the palace and hadn’t yet reached the city gates when starving people surged from all directions in Luoyang. Seeing the imperial procession, they completely disregarded propriety, righteousness, loyalty, filial piety, or benevolence, directly attacking to steal all the grain the imperial family was carrying.

Unable to withstand the assault of the starving masses, they had no choice but to retreat to the palace, then remained holed up there, relying on relief from the aristocratic families, scholars, and officials who had stayed behind.

But even then, they still couldn’t eat their fill.

The young emperor had gone hungry and knew how unbearable hunger was. He also knew how savage starving people could become—when they couldn’t steal grain, they would steal people to eat.

When Zhao Hanzhang attacked Luoyang, there weren’t many common people left in the city. Some who couldn’t endure the hunger had escaped, some were hiding throughout the city—including those who had survived by eating human flesh—and the rest had starved to death.

The young emperor’s face paled and his fingers trembled slightly. “I’ll write it!”

Xun Fan breathed a sigh of relief and quickly went to ask Ming Yu for yellow silk to write the edict.

The state treasury was empty. Yellow silk was not only expensive but scarce. Zhao Hanzhang had recently issued many edicts and didn’t want to spend this money, so she had the paper workshop create a special type of paper just for her to write edicts.

This paper was thick and heavy with a water-resistant surface. Ink didn’t bleed when applied. The edges had auspicious cloud patterns, and touching it felt like touching silk—very soft. Though it cost much more than ordinary paper, compared to yellow silk, it was incredibly cheap.

All orders issued by Zhao Hanzhang used this type of paper. Only orders from the young emperor used yellow silk.

For example, the recent edict ordering the burial of the late emperor and ancestor worship used yellow silk, and that edict was also drafted by Xun Fan.

Of course, the edict ultimately had to be sent to the Department of State Affairs under Ji Yuan, where after his review confirmed no errors, it would be issued.

So when Xun Fan and Ming Yu requested yellow silk, Ming Yu only asked once to confirm it was for the young emperor before having someone give him a piece. After all, the edict would ultimately end up in Ji Yuan’s hands anyway.

So before long, Ming Yu saw the young emperor’s draft edict at Ji Yuan’s office, still without the seal.

Ming Yu raised an eyebrow and clicked his tongue. “This edict clearly shows Xun Fan drafted it and the emperor copied it.”

Ji Yuan rolled up the edict and stood. “I’ll go find the General to apply the seal.”

Ming Yu followed behind him. “Xun Fan is still someone worth using. Having him stay by the emperor’s side is better than not.”

Ji Yuan asked, “What are you trying to say?”

“In recent days, people have submitted memorials impeaching Xun Fan, saying he harbors resentment toward the General, mixes personal bias when teaching the emperor, and sows discord between the emperor and the General. They request that Xun Fan be dismissed from his position as Grand Tutor.”

Hearing this, Ji Yuan sneered. “They treat the General like a fool to deceive, not knowing the General’s heart is perfectly clear.”

Ming Yu didn’t think so. “Lies repeated often enough become truth. The General naturally trusts him now, but what about in one month, two months, one year, two years?”

He continued, “And there’s Xun Fan himself. Knowing people in court are sparing no effort to impeach and alienate him, does he have no thoughts at all?”

Ji Yuan frowned. “What does Minister Ming mean?”

“Investigate thoroughly!” Ming Yu said. “If it’s true, it’s true; if not, then not. Punish those who deserve punishment and reward those who deserve reward—then there won’t be any more false accusations.”

Ji Yuan laughed at his naivety. “When I followed the former master, court politics were volatile and conflicts complex. Among them were many officials who lost their lives due to power struggles. It could be said that of the officials who died unjustly since Emperor Hui ascended the throne, eight or nine out of ten died in power struggles.”

“So do you think they don’t know people could die or be punished?” He continued, “They know, but they’ll still choose to do this. Your idea of using an example to deter others and stop them from making false accusations over power struggles is impossible!”

“As long as there are benefits, the struggles won’t cease.” Ji Yuan sighed. “The General also knows this, which is why she never lets such matters escalate, because once they escalate, they easily lead to factional strife, consuming domestic resources and the lives of common people.”

He advised Ming Yu, “The General is handling this very well now.”

Zhao Hanzhang received memorials as they came. Generally, when she received such accusatory memorials without solid evidence, she would first send them back, requiring them to provide proof—such as what words Xun Fan said or what actions he took while teaching the emperor that made them think this way.

Along with returning the memorial came a string of tasks. Those who should be doing practical work were sent to do it,御史 (Censors) specifically tasked with supervising officials were sent down to inspect rural conditions and confirm that the policies she had issued were being properly implemented locally…

By the time they completed their tasks and wrote another memorial, Zhao Hanzhang would hand the memorial directly to Xun Fan, having him respond point by point to the evidence listed in the accusatory memorial.

This back-and-forth, plus countless work assignments, meant matters couldn’t be resolved in less than three to five months.

She was very patient anyway. The censors, however, were thoroughly annoyed, especially the officials who needed to inspect the countryside—there were bandits on the roads! There were bandits! And the people in the villages were quite fierce too. County magistrates and village headmen could be quite domineering. As a censor going down there, he could get beaten if words didn’t go well.

Don’t underestimate the rural people now. Because Great Jin had been in constant turmoil, while the upper-class aristocrats admired refined elegance and noble integrity, the common people at the bottom greatly admired martial prowess.

Not only men, but even women and children were quite tough. If a censor got into an argument with them, they dared to grab sticks and strike.

Of course, because the censors were sent down by Zhao Hanzhang, out of respect for her, even if some censors spoke unpleasantly, they still held back.