Three Kingdoms: Prince of the Great Wei, Prime Minister Cao - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Three Questions to Xun Yu – What is the Dominion of Great Han?

The origin of Han’s prosperity lay in multiple facets. If one were to delve into the roots of this prosperity, it would be found in the toil of the myriad people across the realm. The fields cultivated by commoners, the weavers fashioning luxurious garments, the taxes paid by traders engaging in commerce, and the craftsmen constructing imperial edifices—all converge to form the genuine essence of Han affluence.

In my perspective, the sustenance of the emperor and the court officials hinges on the labor of these commoners. While you, sir, advocate for enjoying prosperity as a Han subject during one’s lifetime and serving as a loyal subject in death, why did you solely direct your gaze upward to the lofty figure of the emperor, neglecting to acknowledge the millions who sustain your own livelihood?

Isn’t this, in essence, an injustice to the myriad people of the realm?

To counter your silence, let me propose the answer to the second question regarding the nature of your loyalty. If loyalty was professed to the distant emperor in Xudu, it might be viewed differently in the annals of history…

Before Xun Yu could respond, Cao Ju continued with his own interpretation. If loyalty is pledged to the emperor in Xudu, it could be perceived in future historical records…

In contemplating the waning fortunes of the Han dynasty and considering the exceptional talents within Lord Cao Cao’s progeny, Xun Yu’s emotions became intricate and challenging to articulate. Cao Ju’s articulation of Han’s prosperity and the role of the people struck a chord. Yet, despite the remarkable talents of the Cao siblings, the absence of capable individuals in the Han dynasty invoked a sense of melancholy.

As Cao Ju posed the third question about Xun Yu’s lord and master, the esteemed Cao Cao, and whether he, in his elevated position, could genuinely step back, Xun Yu grappled with conflicting sentiments. The realization dawned that perhaps the eighth son of Lord Cao Cao, previously underestimated in his shadow, now unveiled his brilliance with unabashed ambition. Was his unreserved expression of aspirations resulting from foreseeing Xun Yu’s imminent demise?

In these moments of contemplation, Xun Yu discerned that he and others had overlooked this young prince’s potential, especially in the aftermath of the deaths of Cao Ang and Cao Chong. The complex interplay of emotions—moved by Cao Ju’s insights, sorrow for the diminishing Han dynasty, and acknowledgment of the underappreciated talents within the Cao lineage—rendered Xun Yu’s response elusive.

Cao Ju’s voice cut through the reflective silence once more, pressing on with the question of Xun Yu’s loyalty. Before Xun Yu could articulate his thoughts, Cao Ju continued to speculate on the possible answers, emphasizing the potential interpretations that history might ascribe to such loyalty.

“Concerning you, sir, at best, you would be just an ordinary and faithful minister, hardly distinguishable from countless others emerging during dynastic transitions. Consider Minister Wang, who met his demise during the chaos in Changan, or the conspirators like Dong Cheng from over ten years ago, all boasting about loyalty and righteousness. Yet, what was the outcome? They perished, and the Great Han’s decline persisted. People remember my father Cao Cao’s reputation, not their deeds.”

After a momentary pause, Cao Ju continued, “If your loyalty is to the four-hundred-year heritage of the Great Han and the continuation of the Liu clan’s rule, then you might deserve the title of ‘Kingly Advisor of Han.’ However, would the four-hundred-year legacy and the Liu clan truly recognize you as such? Presumably not. Even the twenty-nine emperors who inherited the Great Han’s legacy, including the current emperor, wouldn’t acknowledge you. They might question why you assisted the ‘Han traitor Cao Cao’ in achieving dominance at the expense of the Great Han.”

With a slight smile, Cao Ju added, “Tell me, how would Emperor Gaozu and Emperor Xiaowu, Emperor Guangwu, view you if they were reborn?” This question struck at Xun Yu’s core, leaving him visibly pale and trembling.

In a swift moment, Xun Yu raised his head, defending himself with wavering words, “Justice… justice lies within one’s heart! What Xun Yu seeks is only to be free of self-reproach.” Despite his initial uncertainty, his resolve seemed to grow as he spoke about being without reproach.

Unexpectedly, Cao Ju burst into laughter. “Hahaha! What a pursuit of being free from self-reproach. Sir, your words are preposterous. In my view, what resides in people’s hearts is the heart of the people, the heart of the myriad commoners of the realm. You clung foolishly to your loyalty to the present ruler, your foolish loyalty to the Liu dynasty. In such circumstances, how could they ever give you justice?”

Cao Ju let his words settle, allowing Xun Yu time to absorb the weight of his statements. As Xun Yu contemplated, the echoes in his ears were not of Cao Ju’s questions but the profound maxims emphasizing the importance of putting the people first and prioritizing the world’s concerns.

Under the influence of these sayings, Xun Yu’s life’s work seemed like a jest, incapable of assisting rulers or benefiting the common people. His once-upright posture now reclined, devoid of the dignity of a gentleman.

After a brief pause, Cao Ju’s voice filled the room once more.

“In times of chaos, it’s unlike rowing upstream. Retreating in the struggle for dominance means no place to bury oneself. If my father were to retreat, it’s not only the Cao family that would perish but also loyal civil and military officials, including you, sir. You would die, and those bearing arms might witness the fall of our reigning emperor, who seized power in one fell swoop.”