Liu Bian at the start, so you're called Dong Zhuo, right?

The following morning, three memorials were delivered to the Zhangde Hall.

Before dawn, the wind outside the palace was already chillingly cold.

The eunuch hurriedly entered the room carrying a bundle of urgent military reports. The seal was still wet and the ink was still fresh. But amidst this pile of reports of “trap,” “break,” and “urgent need,” three more memorials were added.

The first letter was from Lü Qiang.

"The factional stagnation has been accumulating for too long, and public resentment is growing. If they are not pardoned, they may conspire with the enemy, leading to even greater unrest..."

Emperor Ling of Han twitched his brow but remained silent.

The second letter was from Kong Rong.

"I have heard that the foundation of the world lies in the state, the foundation of the state lies in the people, and the foundation of the people lies in the scholars. If the scholars have nowhere to turn, then the state has nowhere to rely on. Now, the Yellow Turban Rebellion has broken out, shaking the eight provinces, yet the once upright and renowned scholars are either imprisoned, exiled to the wilderness, or hiding in the mountains and forests; there is not a single one who can serve the country..."

Emperor Ling of Han frowned more and more deeply.

It's not that he doesn't understand.

He understood it perfectly.

A chill ran down my spine – it turned out that in recent years, the imperial court had truly been just as Kong Rong had described:

They drove away all the capable people, leaving only those who knew how to kowtow, flatter, and smooth talk to wander around the hall.

Finally, Emperor Ling of Han read Yang Biao's letter.

"The Yang family of Hongnong has received the Emperor's favor for generations and dares not remain silent. For twenty years, the partisan purge has chilled the hearts of scholars throughout the land. Now the rebels use 'Heaven is dead' as their slogan. If Heaven abandons the scholars, the scholars will surely abandon Heaven. If Your Majesty wishes to quell the Yellow Turban Rebellion, you must first win back the hearts of the people; to win back the hearts of the people, you must first lift the partisan purge..."

After the three letters were read aloud, the hall fell into a deathly silence.

Emperor Ling of Han looked up at Liu Bian, who was kneeling below the throne:

"You..." His voice was a little hoarse, "You had them write it?"

"Lü Qiang, Kong Rong, Yang Biao—you certainly know how to pick people."

Liu Bian couldn't tell whether the words were praise or criticism, so he could only continue to prostrate himself: "Your subject only wanted to..."

"Stand up and speak."

Liu Bian stood up.

Emperor Ling of Han looked at him, at his son who had grown to his shoulder height, and suddenly remembered how he looked when he was seven years old and had just returned to the palace—a thin and small boy standing in the center of the hall, but with surprisingly bright eyes.

four years ago.

That apprehension, like a shadow, crept up from the depths of his heart, yet he suppressed it with the composure befitting an emperor—not letting anyone see it.

"Tell me," he finally said, "why is it so necessary to lift the ban on political parties?"

"Father, the Yellow Turban Rebellion has shaken eight provinces."

"These past few days I've been pondering—how could a million people be gathered together overnight?"

Emperor Ling of Han remained silent.

"Because the people are sick, and there is no medicine."

Liu Bian's voice was not loud, but every word he spoke was sincere.

"Because the officials are corrupt, no one cares. Because those who should be teaching, educating, and comforting the people in the countryside are imprisoned at home by the Party, afraid to go out, afraid to speak, and afraid to take charge."

He paused:

"Your subject asked Kong Rong. He said that among the famous scholars who died in prison over the years, he could remember the names of thirty-seven. One hundred and twenty-three were exiled. And the number of those forced into seclusion and who dared not serve in office was countless."

Emperor Ling of Han's brow twitched.

"Your subject also asked Yang Biao."

Liu Bian continued.

He said that the Yang family of Hongnong had seven disciples who were dismissed from their posts and sent back to their hometowns simply because they had drunk wine with the party members once.

"Now that the Yellow Turban Rebellion has begun, two of the three counties where those seven men lived have already fallen."

"Father, this is no coincidence."

Liu Bian raised his head and looked at Emperor Ling of Han.

"Those who were driven to a dead end by the Party Prohibitions either watched the court make a fool of itself, or—as Lü Qiang said in his memorial—"

"To conspire with the horn, so that change may occur."

Emperor Ling of Han's gaze froze.

"Your subject knows that when Your Majesty implemented the Party Prohibitions, it was because some people formed cliques for personal gain, and because there were indeed people in the court who were disloyal."

Liu Bian lowered his voice.

"But it's been twenty years. Those who truly formed a faction are long dead. Those who are alive are their disciples, their children, and those who did nothing but were implicated."

"Twenty years," he said softly, "enough to waste half a person's life. Enough to shut the hearts of an entire county or prefecture away to the other side."

Emperor Ling of Han suddenly spoke:

"In Lü Qiang's memorial, there was another sentence—'Please execute the corrupt officials around you first.' Do you know who he was referring to?"

Liu Bian's heart skipped a beat, but he did not panic.

He lowered his head and cupped his hands in a respectful gesture towards Emperor Ling of Han:

"Your Majesty is wise; you have eliminated dissidents. Now that the internal enemies are gone, we can deal with the external threats."

He was referring to Zhao Feng and Xu, the three of them.

Emperor Ling of Han did not speak, but instead looked at Liu Bian with a strange expression.

Those three were also people you ordered me to eliminate.

Liu Bian suddenly knelt down:

"Father, I am submitting this memorial today not to form a faction, nor to seek fame. I am simply afraid—"

He looked up, his eyes slightly red.

"Your Majesty, I fear that those who should have been guarding the city for the court will end up standing on the other side of the city walls."

Emperor Ling of Han suddenly felt that the scene before him was somewhat blurry.

He saw the threat posed by his son, but he also saw his son's true feelings.

He turned his back, his voice steady:

"Draft an imperial edict."

"Pardon those who have committed crimes, release them from confinement, and allow them to return to their hometowns and enter officialdom. All those without real crimes shall be released. Each prefecture and county shall select capable men to be conscripted into the army."

He paused, then added, as if trying to find a secure legitimacy for himself:

"...This is for the urgent matter of eliminating the thief, not for personal favors."

Liu Bian lay prostrate on the ground, his forehead touching the cold floor tiles, his voice trembling slightly:

"Your subject... thanks Your Majesty."

He thought he had finally opened a door—a door that would allow talent to return and give the big man a little more breath.

When Liu Bian left Zhangde Hall, his steps were unsteady.

He walked down the long corridor, the cold wind blowing into his collar, but he didn't feel cold at all.

It's solved.

The Party Persecution has been lifted.

Those who were imprisoned, those who were exiled, those who hid in the mountains and dared not come out—they can come back.

He suddenly wanted to run a few steps, laugh, and find a secluded place to shout something.

But he didn't.

He simply took a deep breath, suppressed the surging emotions, and continued walking forward step by step.

Inside the Chengde Hall, there were still people waiting for him.

-

After Liu Bian left, Emperor Ling of Han sat back down at his desk and remained silent for a long time.

Zhang Rang and Guo Sheng knelt to one side, not daring to utter a sound.

After a long silence, Emperor Ling of Han suddenly spoke: "Zhang Rang."

"Your subject is here."

What do you think of the Crown Prince?

Zhang Rang's back instantly broke out in a cold sweat.

Zhang Rang prostrated himself on the ground, his voice hoarse: "Your subject... Your subject dares not speak presumptuously."

Emperor Ling of Han did not open his eyes, but a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"I wouldn't dare to speak presumptuously," he repeated. "You know you wouldn't dare."

The hall fell silent again.

After a long while, Emperor Ling of Han suddenly sighed.

"Lü Qiang, Kong Rong, Yang Biao," he murmured. "Eunuchs, upright officials, aristocratic families. Three groups of people, three forces, he rallied them together and submitted a joint petition."

He opened his eyes and looked at the caisson ceiling of the palace.

"What was I doing when I was eleven years old?"

No one answered.

Emperor Ling of Han did not need to answer.

He simply stared at the carved wood, his gaze deep and unfathomable.

"Bian'er is much more capable than I imagined," he said softly.

"That's incredibly talented..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

But Guo Sheng understood.

The moment he understood, he felt a chill run down his spine.

--fear.

His Majesty is beginning to fear the Crown Prince.