When news that the Emperor was pregnant spread to the State of Xiliang, Zhang Gui, who had already been critically ill and semi-comatose, became mentally alert and miraculously recovered, gaining another breath of life.
He asked his second son Zhang Mao, “Is there news of your elder brother?”
Zhang Mao shook his head, consoling, “Father, rest assured. Your son has separately dispatched people to search and will definitely bring elder brother back. The diplomatic mission hasn’t returned, and Her Majesty has also consecutively sent two teams westward—they will certainly find people.”
Whether the diplomatic mission dispatched by the court or merchant caravans sent by civilian groups like Zhao Hu, none returned to Luoyang last August.
Time had already exceeded the deadline the Emperor set. Moreover, on this journey, whether official or civilian, no one had received their information—the prospects were likely dire.
Zhang Gui was already mentally prepared. During this time he had considered all sorts of bad outcomes and had become calm in heart. “How is the newly planted cotton?”
Xiliang divided the obtained cotton seeds in two—one portion was tribute to the Emperor as a gift for her ascension; one portion was kept, with no one knowing how many seeds they had.
The Emperor reciprocated, immediately having people bring back cotton planting instructions. After temperatures began rising last year they secretly planted cotton, using the very method the Emperor provided.
In August that year, they harvested what the Emperor called cotton. Following her formula, they removed the cotton seeds, eliminated impurities, washed and dried it repeatedly, then obtained fluffy and warm cotton.
They temporarily didn’t know how to use it. Learning the Emperor had used cotton to make two quilts for the Empress Dowager, they immediately stuffed all the dried cotton into quilt covers.
Though lumpy and somewhat ugly, it was truly very warm. Applied to clothing, it meant using cotton to replace scraps of cloth and reed floss in filling garments—equally very warm.
At that time Zhang Gui understood why Zhao Hanzhang valued this cotton so highly.
If cotton could be planted on a large scale, there would be no winter cold throughout this realm. He immediately had people carefully preserve the harvested seeds to continue planting this year.
At the same time he called his second son and trusted aides, instructing them to be loyal to the court—just guard the northern national gate well, send gifts to the court every year for festivals and the Emperor’s birthday, and not be negligent.
Just half a month ago, feeling his physical condition rapidly declining, Zhang Gui still instructed his second son, “After I’m gone, you will temporarily manage Xiliang affairs until your elder brother returns.”
But now, learning the Emperor was pregnant, Zhang Gui suddenly came back to life. After a moment of silence he asked, “How is this year’s cotton growing?”
Zhang Mao said, “Very well.”
Zhang Gui nodded. “Very good. Have people carefully tend it. Her Majesty announced at this time, indicating she has been pregnant over three months. By the time news reaches here… at most another five months and the eldest prince or princess will be born. By then our cotton will already be harvested. I want to use the newly harvested cotton seeds as a congratulatory gift.”
Zhang Mao said, “Won’t the gift be too meager?”
Zhang Gui shook his head. “This year among the people there’s no news of cotton. Clearly the cotton seeds sent to Her Majesty still aren’t enough—they’re also cultivating, with quantities insufficient to benefit the common people.”
This time he again only kept his second son and trusted generals, but said, “I want to submit a memorial to the court establishing you as heir.”
Zhang Mao’s eyes widened. Before the generals at the side could speak, he immediately refused. “Impossible, Father! Elder brother is the legitimate eldest son—the heir position should be elder brother’s.”
Zhang Gui said, “Your elder brother’s life or death is unknown. I cannot wait for him anymore.”
Zhang Mao replied, “Your son is willing to guard Xiliang for elder brother until he returns.”
Zhang Gui said, “Before it would certainly be possible, but now it won’t work. This matter is my decision. Wang Rong, come help me draft a document. I will personally request the Emperor to appoint an heir.”
Chief Clerk Wang Rong acknowledged and went to fetch paper and brush. General Meng Chang at the side moved over a low table to place on the bed, then went to help Zhang Gui sit up.
Zhang Mao’s eyes widened. He lifted his robe and knelt down, banging his head on the floor, tears streaming. “Father, you place your son in a position of disloyalty and unrighteousness. How, how can I face elder brother in the future?”
Zhang Gui said, “I will write a letter to your elder brother explaining everything. He will certainly understand me and understand you. Chengxun, could it be you only care about your elder brother and not about your father?”
Chengxun was Zhang Mao’s courtesy name. Zhang Shi’s courtesy name was Anxun—from this one could see Zhang Gui’s expectations for them and for this world.
Zhang Gui’s breathing became somewhat rapid. He recovered a moment before catching his breath, his voice weak. “I’ve spent half my life in military campaigns, all in Xiliang. The people of Xiliang are my subjects, my family. The soldiers and officials of Xiliang are my brothers, your uncles. Can you bear to see them again fall into wartime chaos and strife?”
Zhang Mao cried, “Didn’t Father say Her Majesty is benevolent and won’t lightly speak of warfare?”
“Not wrong. But what if internal chaos begins first in Xiliang, starting warfare? Have you forgotten the calamity of Zhang Zhen and Jia Kan, forgotten the calamity of Zhang Yue, forgotten Qu Chao and Qu Ru?” Zhang Gui said, “How many more people with such treacherous hearts remain within Xiliang now?”
Zhang Gui caught his breath before continuing, “I’ve always hesitated—whether or not to establish Anxun as heir. He reveres Buddhist teachings and acts willfully. On this journey to the Western Regions, I repeatedly advised him not to go, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Buddhist teachings were transmitted to China at the end of the Western Han and beginning of the Eastern Han. At this time they weren’t prevalent in the Central Plains but were most active in northern and other ethnic minority regions.
The Buddhism of this time was mainly Hinayana Buddhism—cultivating to save oneself, primarily “self-benefit.” Zhang Shi was greatly influenced by Hinayana Buddhism.
The Buddhism of this era didn’t have as many strict rules and precepts as later generations. Zhang Shi was very free. He vaguely felt current Buddhist teachings weren’t quite right—at least they couldn’t resolve the doubts in his heart, nor were they suitable for promotion in China.
So he urgently wanted to know more truth, to answer the doubts in his heart.
Zhang Gui respected his son’s pursuit but didn’t agree. In his view, Buddhist teachings were too niche, not saving others, much less saving oneself—far inferior to Daoism and Confucianism.
So he had long wanted to change successors. Yet deeply influenced by Daoist and Confucian thought, although knowing his eldest son wasn’t quite suitable, he still subconsciously chose him, relied on him.
If not firmly choosing the legitimate eldest son, the chaos caused by fraternal strife would be even more devastating.
Xiliang had not always been stable.
These past years the Central Plains had constantly been at war, and Xiliang hadn’t been much more peaceful. Not to mention the calamity of Zhang Zhen and Jia Kan—Zhang Yue wasn’t even a court official, just a minor aristocrat, not even counting as gate-valve.
Because he heard marketplace rumors and believed himself to be the chosen one of Heaven’s mandate, he rebelled. Yet when he raised his arm and called out, quite a few people truly followed.
And Qu Chao was Zhang Gui’s Chief Clerk of Liangzhou. They had fought battles together, drunk wine together, even slept in the same bed. With such good friendship, when Zhang Gui suffered a stroke, he immediately believed he could replace him and thus rebelled.
Xiliang was so large—how many people harboring such treacherous intentions were there?
Zhang Gui almost dared not think about it.