Chapter Thirteen: First Steps into State Affairs

At this moment, the ministers had already been waiting in the council hall of the prime minister's residence for nearly half a day.

Huangfu Song and Zhu Jun were also present in the main hall. They had led their troops into the city early this morning, originally intending to report to Liu Xie. However, upon entering the city, they received news of the morning court session and hurried to attend.

Huangfu Song and Zhu Jun had expected the court session to be nearly over by the time they arrived, but to their surprise, after waiting for half a day, the emperor had yet to appear.

Watching the ministers whispering among themselves, Huangfu Song quietly asked the nearby General Gai Xun, “Brother Yuangu, why hasn’t His Majesty arrived yet?”

Gai Xun leisurely glanced at the sunlight outside the hall and replied slowly, “He’s probably still asleep.”

A few generals nearby couldn’t help but chuckle. Ma Teng smiled and said, “After all, the emperor is still a child at heart. Last night he truly toiled a lot, and today he has an early court session. He probably hasn’t rested well.”

Ma Teng glanced disdainfully at a noisy group of civil officials on the other side. “I don’t know what His Majesty was thinking, keeping these old relics around. Each one follows whoever holds power. These fence-sitters would be better off taken outside and beheaded!”

Since ancient times, civil officials and military generals have looked down on each other. Civil officials regarded generals as warmongers whose constant fighting caused suffering for the people; generals saw civil officials as opportunists who rose through mere words while they labored to exhaustion.

Ma Teng spoke loudly without lowering his voice, and as a military man, his booming voice filled the hall.

Upon hearing Ma Teng’s words, the entire hall fell silent for a moment.

The civil officials widened their eyes in anger, flames of fury almost bursting forth.

Yet the head civil official, Minister Wang Yun, remained calm and detached, as if unaffected by the commotion.

A somewhat younger middle-aged civil official stepped forward and said, “General Ma, what do you mean by that? Do you really think we are as despicable as you say?”

Ma Teng was about to retort when a voice echoed from outside the hall: “The Son of Heaven, His Majesty, has arrived!”

All the civil and military officials immediately knelt and kowtowed, “We pay homage to His Majesty, the Son of Heaven!”

Liu Xie strode into the hall, calmly taking his seat at the front, as if he had not been late.

“Please rise, everyone,” Liu Xie said with a composed demeanor, looking down at the courtiers kneeling before him.

To claim that he was not nervous would be a lie; this was the first time since birth that Liu Xie had been worshipped by so many people.

These were the elite civil and military officials of the Han dynasty, all obediently kneeling before him.

In that instant, Liu Xie understood why so many in Chinese history had vied for this position.

This feeling... was utterly exhilarating.

Looking at the ministers below, Liu Xie tried to steady his nerves and spoke with feigned authority, “You are all the pillars of our great Han dynasty. I heard quarrels outside the hall before entering. What kind of conduct is this?”

The subtle rebuke in Liu Xie’s tone made the more astute officials realize that the emperor intended to assert his authority.

This was a warning to set an example.

It is said that new officials must light three fires upon taking office. Although the emperor was not new, having just regained power, this was effectively his first time managing state affairs. Naturally, he would want to discipline some insubordinate ministers to intimidate the rest.

Those who had climbed to such heights were all clever; none would foolishly become the scapegoat for the emperor’s warning. No one wanted to be the one sacrificed—it would be courting death.

Seeing the obedient ministers below, Liu Xie felt somewhat disappointed. He had hoped someone would step forward to be his sparring partner.

But there were no fools here. How could they dare provoke an emperor who had just returned from leading troops back to Chang’an?

Thus, everyone behaved obediently, leaving Liu Xie without a chance to enforce his authority.

“Who manages the state treasury? Report on its status immediately!” Unable to find a subject to discipline, Liu Xie changed tactics.

He needed to understand the extent of his resources. Frankly, Liu Xie had prepared for the worst.

He feared that his inheritance had already been squandered by his adoptive father and Dong Zhuo.

At that moment, a gaunt, elderly man with graying temples holding a bamboo tally stepped forward.

“I, Minister Wang Yun, completed the inventory yesterday. The treasury holds 30,000 taels of gold and 300,000 coins,” he reported.

This was none other than the famed Minister Wang Yun of the late Han dynasty, though his fate was tragic—eventually killed by Li Jue and Guo Si.

A seasoned official indeed, having prepared precisely the information the emperor sought.

But hearing these numbers, Liu Xie nearly burst into tears.

“Only this much?” he could hardly believe his ears.

This was the national treasury—only that amount?

It wasn’t even enough to supply his armies outside the city.

“Your Majesty,” Wang Yun continued, “This is indeed all that remains. The bandit Dong Zhuo plundered the treasury to build several palaces, as well as funding the costly capital relocation and provisioning the northern and southern armies—all of which consumed vast sums.”

Liu Xie rubbed his temples and said gravely, “Stop all palace construction projects immediately.”

“Your Majesty... that is inadvisable,” Wang Yun hesitated. “The imperial city has been nearly destroyed by Dong Zhuo’s flames. Your Majesty still resides in the prime minister’s mansion. It is unbecoming for the Son of Heaven to dwell there long, which would tarnish the dignity of the imperial house. I urge Your Majesty to reconsider.”

“Do as I command!” Liu Xie’s tone brooked no argument. “The people of the realm still suffer hunger and cold. As emperor, I must set an example. Ministers, promote frugality and strictly forbid extravagance!”

Palaces could be built later. For now, spending money was wasteful, and with such scant funds, hardly anything could be constructed.

The provisioning of the northern and southern armies must not be interrupted. These forces, numbering nearly 70,000 under Huangfu Song and Zhu Jun, were the most elite troops of the Han.

(A brief explanation: The Han military system was conscription-based, with all able-bodied men serving two years—one year locally, one year in border regions or the capital. However, after the Eastern Han abolished regional armies, conscription declined. The author speculates that by the late Han, the capital’s northern and southern armies were mainly composed of recruited soldiers, supplemented by elite troops from border commanderies, funded with salaries and provisions for long-term garrison duty. This is for reference only.)

Originally, the northern and southern armies did not reach 70,000 men. But since the arrival of the Guandong forces, Dong Zhuo massively expanded the military in the Guanzhong region to secure his safety, swelling the ranks to the current 70,000.

Thus, nearly 140,000 troops were stationed in Luoyang. Even standing idle, such a force consumed staggering amounts of grain daily. Without confiscating the wealth of several aristocratic families in Chang’an, this army might have already rebelled.

Therefore, Liu Xie’s greatest challenge was securing a stable supply of funds and provisions. Relying solely on confiscated family estates was insufficient to sustain such a vast army long-term.

“What about taxes from the provinces? Have they not been collected? It shouldn’t be just this little,” Liu Xie asked, eyes full of doubt.

Although the Yellow Turban rebels were rampant and local governors wielded military and civil power, the realm had yet to dissolve into complete warlordism. Provinces still nominally answered to the court and were supposed to remit taxes.

But how much was paid was uncertain, as power breeds ambition. This was the root cause of the late Han’s turmoil and the rise of warlords.

From this, it was clear that everything was interconnected. Since Emperor Ling’s reign, the Han’s decline was irreversible. Without Liu Xie’s time travel, the dynasty might have already collapsed.

Yet now the court’s coffers were near empty—not just due to high expenses, but from meager income.

After a moment’s hesitation, Wang Yun reported, “Your Majesty, Yizhou, Jingzhou, Shandong, and Jiangdong provinces have not remitted taxes for some time.”

“Are they rebelling?” Liu Xie’s head ached. “What are the provincial governors doing?”

“The reports say the Yellow Turban rebels caused heavy damage, and taxes were diverted to aid the people.”

“Most likely embezzled by the officials themselves!” Liu Xie’s anger surged.

“I... do not know...” Wang Yun sensed the emperor’s fury and tried to distance himself.

“Your Majesty, please calm your anger. The bandit Dong Zhuo has thrown the court into chaos. The provinces were indeed severely affected. Your humble servant suggests lightening the tax burden to relieve the people,” the middle-aged official who had earlier spoken interjected. “Moreover, the nearly 200,000-strong anti-bandit armies east of Luoyang require funding.”

Liu Xie regarded the portly official silently. An eerie stillness fell over the hall.

“You seem to be doing quite well yourself,” Liu Xie said coldly, eyes flashing with killing intent. From his previous life until now, his greatest hatred was for corrupt officials who enriched themselves while oppressing the people, bringing suffering upon the realm.

The official’s face reddened in embarrassment but dared not reply.

Liu Xie wanted to execute him, but he could not. The official was partly right and partly wrong. Killing him would only worsen tax collection and deepen the people’s misery. Unsolvable problems like entrenched aristocracy and corrupt officials confronted Liu Xie relentlessly.

He felt as if a great stone pressed on his chest, weighing him down.

Apparently, even the emperor was not omnipotent.

After a moment, Liu Xie spoke slowly, his voice low yet heavy with pressure.

“It seems many great families cast long shadows over the court...”

“What audacity they have!”