Chapter 8: Facing the Court—Zhuge Liang Debates the Ministers

Compared to Liu Tan, Zhuge Liang was even more impatient. He had long harbored intentions of a northern campaign, yet had never formally submitted a memorial to express them. Now, having gleaned the emperor’s thoughts, Zhuge Liang’s heart was set—he would place the Northern Expedition on the agenda. He resolved to summon the civil and military officials who supported the campaign that very day to discuss the matter, and on the morrow, present his petition for the expedition when the emperor held court.

The emperor was, by nature, a solitary figure—how much more so for one who had traversed time to this position. Yet Liu Tan understood profoundly that if he remained so isolated, his end would come soon enough. Though he had yet to preside over court, he could already be certain that among all the officials, there was not a single one he had appointed himself. Lacking his own faction was the most fatal weakness for an emperor.

Thus, winning over the empress was his first plan of action, and by all accounts, it had worked splendidly.

The second step was to improve his martial ability. How many emperors throughout history had fallen to assassins or been betrayed by those closest to them? If he could excel in martial arts, he could eliminate this threat, and in the future, he might don golden armor and personally lead troops into battle.

Nearly all accomplished monarchs in history had led armies themselves—be it the First Emperor of Qin, Emperor Wu of Han, the Yongle Emperor of Ming, or Emperor Kangxi of the Qing. Without martial prowess, a strong wind could topple him; how then could he speak of leading troops to war?

As for the third step, Liu Tan rubbed his nose—he hadn’t yet decided. That could wait for the future.

For now, it was truly time to rest. Liu Chan’s body was indeed lacking—overweight, flabby, and only just recovering from illness. At the moment, he felt a headache and fatigue.

Damn it, he thought. To be an emperor, yet less robust than his former self, and not as handsome either—though fortunately, this was not an era where appearances decided everything.

After Zhuge Liang took his leave, Liu Tan instructed Wang Li and the others, “Wait outside the hall. Empress, I am weary—come with me inside.”

“Your Majesty, you nearly frightened me to death! I thought you were going to depose me—I was so terrified that I broke out in a sweat. Feel it, Your Majesty, it’s all damp!” the empress complained coquettishly upon entering the inner hall.

“Oh?” Liu Tan raised an eyebrow. “Really? Come here—let me feel for myself!” He reached out, trying to pull her closer.

The empress, agile as she was, glanced toward the door and said, “Your Majesty, it’s still broad daylight—please restrain yourself!” With that, she dodged deftly aside.

Liu Tan chuckled and settled onto the bed, saying, “Empress, I’ve decided—you will attend to me tonight.”

“At your command, Your Majesty—I dare not refuse!” the empress replied, her cheeks flushed. “But, Your Majesty, do you have a way to persuade General Zhao Yun? Tell me—I’m truly curious!”

Liu Tan shook his head. Although he had a solution in mind, he could not reveal it, so he simply smiled mysteriously. “As for that, I’m still thinking. Just wait and see, Empress.”

The entire afternoon, Liu Tan questioned the empress about court affairs. Whatever she knew, she answered in detail. Though he could not yet match names to faces, at least he gained some understanding and would not be utterly ignorant when he appeared at court the next day.

After dinner, the empress personally helped Liu Tan undress. He looked at her, temptation stirring.

“Your Majesty, please rest a while—after I’ve bathed, I’ll come serve you,” the empress said sweetly, gently pushing him down onto the bed before slipping away.

But when she returned, freshly bathed, Liu Tan was already snoring thunderously. No matter how she nudged and shook him, he would not open his eyes.

After a long moment, the empress sighed, slipped under the covers, and soon fell into a deep sleep beside the emperor.

—

At dawn the next day, with the empress’s attentive aid, Liu Tan donned his dragon robe and ceremonial crown. Wang Li led the way, followed by a retinue of palace maids. Leaving the Hall of Tranquility, they proceeded toward the Supreme Treasure Hall of the imperial palace—the Hall of Upright Virtue, where the Emperor of Shu Han held court.

Along the way, Liu Tan held his head high, striding boldly forward. The eunuchs and maids had to trot to keep up.

As the first rays of sunlight touched the hall, Liu Tan stepped into the Hall of Upright Virtue. The court of Shu was already assembled, standing in ranks on either side.

“The Emperor arrives—all ministers, pay homage!”

Liu Tan advanced slowly, feeling the officials on both sides kneel in respect. His heart surged with emotion. Glancing around, he saw that these were all heroes of Shu, veterans of many campaigns. He could almost sense the martial aura radiating from them.

The force of that aura pressed upon him, as if he were caught amid a thousand charging horses, making each step difficult.

Snap! He straightened his attire, adjusted his dragon robe, and silently shouted to himself, drawing a breath into his chest. His presence suddenly grew, enabling him to withstand the oppressive atmosphere, cross the hall, ascend the dais, and take his seat on the dragon throne.

“Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor! May His Majesty live ten thousand years!”

The thunderous shouts echoed through the hall and beyond, stirring the hearts of all who heard them. Liu Tan stroked the dragon heads on either armrest, feeling the force of those mighty proclamations. He touched his chin and thought silently, “Liu Chan, you may rest in peace. Since I have taken your place, I will see that your empire’s name shines bright, its power resounds, and its glory illuminates China. Just watch and see…”

From that moment, a surge of heroic spirit rose in Liu Tan’s heart. He waved his hand and called out, “Arise, all of you!”

“Thank you, Your Majesty! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor! May His Majesty live ten thousand years!”

After the chorus faded, the court fell silent, waiting for the emperor’s instructions.

Liu Tan sighed. “In recent days, I have been wayward, causing you all concern. The fault is mine.”

But the reaction of the court left him awkward—after his frank admission and lowered stance, not a single minister spoke to comfort him.

Clearly, Liu Chan had done this many times before—admitting fault yet changing nothing. The officials had grown used to it.

Well then! Liu Tan sighed again and continued, “At today’s court, have any ministers matters to report?”

“Your Majesty, I have a memorial,” Zhuge Liang stepped forward, holding a scroll of silk. “Your Majesty, I have composed the ‘Memorial on the Northern Expedition’ and humbly request your approval to march north, seize the Central Plains, and restore the Han dynasty!” Having spoken, he knelt and raised the bamboo slip above his head.

Eunuch Wang Li received the scroll and presented it to Liu Tan. Opening it, Liu Tan found the memorial in classical script, the words leaping off the page.

When he had finished reading, he looked up. Zhuge Liang spoke again, “Your Majesty, the south is pacified, our soldiers and arms are sufficient. If we do not seize this opportunity to attack the traitors, when will we?”

“The Prime Minister’s ambition fills me with awe! Yet the strength of Cao Wei is formidable—conquering them will not be easy. In my opinion, our Shu is a land of natural fortresses. Even without attacking Wei, we can stand among the great powers. Why must the Prime Minister risk himself?” Another official stepped forward to speak.

This man’s face was square, his features kindly—a trustworthy countenance. He was likely Li Yan, the other minister Liu Bei entrusted with his son.

Sure enough, Zhuge Liang replied, “Fangzheng, your words are mistaken. Though Shu is vast, we are but a corner of the land. To rely on defense alone may suffice for ten or twenty years, but what of thirty or fifty? If safety lay in this alone, then why did our great ancestor, Emperor Gaozu Liu Bang, leave Shu to campaign north, seize the Central Plains, and vie for the empire?”

Zhuge Liang glanced at Liu Tan, then at Li Yan, and continued, “Because Emperor Gaozu had great vision—he knew that if we do not attack others, others will attack us. Mere self-preservation is a delusion; only through enterprise can we achieve greatness!”

At this, another minister stepped forward, hands clasped. “Your Majesty, Prime Minister, I have studied the heavens and seen that the northern star’s fortune is at its peak—perhaps the time is not yet ripe for conquest.”

Zhuge Liang replied, “I, too, have observed the heavens and pondered the will of fate. But fate is ever-changing—how can we be bound by superstition?”

Hearing this, Liu Tan rubbed his nose—how had the debate wandered into superstition?

“Your Majesty, in my opinion, with Wei, Shu, and Wu forming a threefold balance, our Shu should nurture the people and build strength. Only when the people are prosperous and our army strong should we seek the Central Plains!” Another minister stepped out, attempting to refute Zhuge Liang.

Zhuge Liang responded, “Famao, your view is mistaken as well. Wei holds the heartland, filled with talent; Wu dominates the south, with fertile lands. Our Shu, though mountainous and defensible, is ill-suited for the people’s welfare. If we focus solely on development, how can we match Wei or Wu? Therefore, we must march north, using our strongholds to strike at the heartland!”

Liu Tan glanced at Famao, memorizing his face. Having traveled here from another world, he could only recognize those with distinctive features—others remained unknown to him.

Famao, hearing Zhuge Liang’s words, bowed his head in frustration, then returned to the ranks.

Moments later, another minister stepped out. “Your Majesty, Prime Minister, since the end of the Han, the realm has been ravaged by war, and the common people are exhausted. If we launch a northern campaign now, it will only add to their suffering. I believe it is not the right time—let the people have peace!”

Zhuge Liang laughed heartily, sneering at the minister. “Zishu, your words are fallacious. With the world divided in three, if we do not attack, they will attack us. Conflict is inevitable—it is not for us to decide. Since war cannot be avoided, how can the people know peace? Only by advancing, first conquering Wei, seizing the Central Plains, and then turning our armies against Sun Wu to unify the land—only then can we end war and bring peace to the people!”

Hearing this, the minister blushed, bowed, and said, “The Prime Minister’s words have enlightened me—I see now where I erred.” With that, he returned to his place.

Zhuge Liang straightened, surveying the court. After a long silence with no one else stepping forth to argue, he faced Liu Tan, knelt, and said, “Your Majesty, please grant me leave to lead the northern expedition!”

“Your Majesty, please permit the Prime Minister to lead the northern expedition!” All the ministers and generals knelt, requesting the imperial edict.

Thus, Zhuge Liang had vanquished all opposition with his words, and not a single voice rose against him in the court.