Chapter 64: The Capital Relocation and the Proclamation

When Xu You surrendered to Cao Cao, far away in Wu Commandery, Liu Xie arrived and announced the news of relocating the capital—a rumor that quickly spread.

Thanks to the preparations of stalwarts such as Zhang Zhao, Cheng Pu, and Zhou Yu, the backbone of Jiangdong, when Sun Ce initiated the relocation, both the civil and military officials of Jiangdong cooperated wholeheartedly and without issue.

Compared to the tangled and complex relationships of the Central Plains, Jiangdong’s officials, though perhaps slightly lacking in military strength and capability, had the overwhelming advantage of unity of purpose. They sincerely wished for Sun Ce to seize the land under heaven. Should Sun Ce fail, they would simply support his younger brother or, in years to come, his descendants. None would trek thousands of miles to the Central Plains to pledge themselves to Cao Cao or Yuan Shao.

Now, with Liu Xie’s arrival, they regarded it as a blessing for Jiangdong, for Sun Ce, and for themselves. The title of legitimate Han minister, which in their hearts might have taken decades to attain, now beckoned to them.

At the first court assembly in Wu Commandery, Liu Xie sat aloof and elevated, garbed in ceremonial robes that fit him better than those he had worn in Xuchang. Yet, few among the Jiangdong ministers could clearly see what he truly looked like.

Their most heartfelt obeisance came when Liu Xie declared Sun Ce the sole Grand Marshal of the Han, entrusting him with the entirety of the empire’s military power.

In Xuchang, Liu Xie had been a mere figurehead. Here, in the eyes of Jiangdong’s ministers, nothing had changed.

Yet, Liu Xie, seated upon the throne, received all with a gentle smile.

He understood that his demeanor before Sun Ce and before the ministers were matters of two different worlds. For now, he lacked the ability to distinguish himself; all he could do was wait in silence, smiling.

For over half an hour, Liu Xie painstakingly conferred titles upon almost every prominent figure in Jiangdong, following a list provided by Zhang Hong.

Of course, in the end, their gratitude was not for the parched-throated Liu Xie, but for Sun Ce, standing before them in his grand marshal’s regalia.

In the hearts of all Jiangdong’s sons, Sun Ce was destined, sooner or later, to occupy the seat beneath that frail young man of the Liu clan—and it would likely not take many years.

When the celebration ended, Liu Xie, snatching a moment’s respite, sipped his tea before embarking on his next task.

“It is only thanks to the Grand Marshal’s escort that I have safely reached Wu Commandery. My reason for relocating the capital is none other than the disloyal and traitorous Han criminal, Cao Cao! In name, he is our empire’s Minister of Works, but in deed, a traitor to the realm. The crimes of the thief Cao are too numerous to record…”

The manifesto was, of course, not composed by Liu Xie himself; Jiangdong was not lacking in literary talent. What marks a good piece of writing? One that draws the reader in. For instance, upon reading this manifesto aloud, Liu Xie himself wished he could relieve himself and feed the results to Cao Cao, forcing him to smack his lips in disgust.

Predictably, when the reading ended, Jiangdong’s newly-minted Han ministers did not disappoint. The great hall erupted in such vehement curses against Cao Cao that it seemed the roof might be lifted by their outrage.

“The empathy of my ministers brings great comfort to my heart. I wish for this matter to reach Guandu with utmost speed, so that the soldiers under Cao Cao may see for themselves the true face of the traitor who waves the Han banner! Let them see that Jiangdong is the true guardian of the Han dynasty, and that the Grand Marshal is the empire’s genuine loyal subject!”

“Your Majesty, rest assured! Within two or three days, news will reach Guandu!”

“Your Majesty, simply wait in your palace for word of Cao Cao’s death!”

The ministers vied to assure Liu Xie of their loyalty. At this, Liu Xie glanced at Sun Ce, who stood closest to him.

Today, Sun Ce held his head especially high, his face flushed with vigor—a man buoyed by good fortune. He nodded at Liu Xie, tacitly acknowledging the emperor’s performance on this first day. Thus, amid the righteous indignation of the ministers, the first court assembly came to a close.

On his way back to his temporary palace, Liu Xie gazed up at the sky over Jiangdong and let out a long sigh—a genuine one, not an act.

Xuchang belonged to Cao Cao; he was nothing but a supporting player. Here in Jiangdong, the land belonged to Sun Ce; he was still a supporting player.

To use his intellect to shift the allegiance of men who had already sworn their loyalty, to place them directly under his own command—Liu Xie realized this was likely impossible.

“What does the late Han lack most... Talented people!”

After just a single court assembly, Liu Xie found that some of his previous notions had been a touch naive; much remained to be done, and the road ahead was long.

Exhausted from a day of performance, Liu Xie, unusually, fell asleep as soon as night fell, clutching the soft form of Lady Fushou, and began to snore.

Yet the news of Liu Xie’s arrival in Wu Commandery, his announcement of relocating the capital, and his public condemnation of Cao Cao swept through the Central Plains without pause.

Everyone who heard the news understood: the already war-torn Han Empire was about to grow even more chaotic.

The very night this news left Jiangdong, Cao Cao was already mounting his horse.

With his closest confidants and five thousand of his finest cavalry, disguised in the uniforms of Yuan Shao’s troops, carrying only a meal or two of dry rations and water, and bundles of kindling strapped to their saddles, they moved stealthily toward Wuchao under cover of night.

Before setting out, Cao Cao spoke plainly to his men: for them, this was a fight with no retreat. Victory might mean death, but defeat certainly did.

Guan Yu was notified only half an hour before departure, but he took it in stride.

After all, he was still far from penetrating the core of Cao Cao’s circle, and he had no desire to do so. He was content with the present arrangement: Cao Cao owed him, not the other way around.

When the time came to return to Liu Bei’s side, it would be as natural as water flowing downhill.

Guan Yu’s only concern was what he would do if he encountered Liu Bei and the others on the battlefield. He certainly could not bring himself to slay them, but it would, no doubt, be an awkward situation.

Though he hoped Yuan Shao could defeat Cao Cao, from his few skirmishes with Yuan’s army, he doubted Yuan Shao truly deserved victory.

His sole wish was that, should they triumph, he might return to Xuchang to watch over the two sisters-in-law until Liu Bei found a firm foothold somewhere.

Even men like Yuan Shao and Yuan Shu could carve out their own fiefdoms; how could Liu Bei not succeed? It was only a matter of time.

A forced march, laden with kindling—every soldier, even those unaware of their destination, understood their mission was to burn supplies. With Cao Cao personally leading, the importance of this raid was beyond question.