Regent Xiao Yuan's "eloquent speech" was like a carefully calculated boulder thrown into the already turbulent court, instantly stirring up a storm that could overturn everything.
"Your subject is also willing to donate a year's salary and submit to Your Highness's command!"
"I second that! In the face of national crisis, it is only right that a highly respected prince take charge to ensure everything goes smoothly!"
Under the immense shock of Xiao Yuan's "300,000 taels of silver" and his moral halo of "serving the country and the people," his faction's officials, as if receiving a signal, stepped forward from their ranks. Each of them spoke righteously and with deep remorse, as if they were exemplary loyal ministers concerned for the country and its people.
Their rhetoric was remarkably consistent—they were willing to "donate to relieve the family's distress," but on the condition that the money be handed over to the Regent for unified allocation.
Their reasons were extremely plausible.
"Your Majesty," a Vice Minister of Revenue said, tears streaming down his face, "it's not that we don't trust the court, but the national treasury is so empty that it's clear...it's clear that our financial management policies may have flaws. Jiangnan is in dire straits now; every penny concerns the lives of countless people, and we cannot afford to lose a single penny. Your Highness is experienced and wise; only by having him oversee this can we ensure that these life-saving funds are truly used effectively, lest we entrust them to the wrong person!"
"The wrong person was chosen!"
These four words, like a poisoned dagger, mercilessly stabbed Xiao Che on the dragon throne!
They were no longer hinting, but openly pointing the finger directly at the emperor himself!
The empty treasury is not due to the late emperor's extravagance or the corruption of powerful ministers, but rather to your incompetence in managing finances!
If you can't even manage the national treasury, how can we believe you can manage this money that comes from officials and is meant to save lives?
So, we can donate money, but you must relinquish this power! Give it to our trustworthy and virtuous regent!
For a time, the entire Golden Palace was filled with this kind of rhetoric that used "speaking out for the people" as a pretext to actually "force the emperor to seize power."
Those faces, which usually seemed so submissive, now appeared utterly unfamiliar and ferocious. They were no longer Xiao Che's subjects, but a pack of hyenas that had caught the scent of blood, relentlessly pushing this wounded lion king towards his doom.
"shut up!"
A furious shout rang out from the royalist camp.
Several young, capable officials, led by the Minister of Personnel, were now seething with rage. They stood up angrily, attempting to refute this absurd statement.
"Nonsense! The affairs of the national treasury are complex and cannot be attributed entirely to His Majesty alone. You, as important officials of the court, do not think of sharing the burdens of the emperor, but instead try to coerce him at this moment. What are your intentions?!"
"Disaster relief is a matter of national importance. The allocation of funds and grain is the responsibility of the Ministry of Revenue and the central government. When did it become the responsibility of a prince to take full charge of this? This action violates ancestral rules and is absolutely unacceptable!"
However, their voices were far too weak.
Faced with the meticulously planned and massive wave of the Regent's faction, the meager strength of the royalists was like a few small boats in a storm, instantly submerged by the towering waves of "pleading for the people."
Their rebuttals not only failed to achieve any effect, but instead provoked an even fiercer attack from the other side.
"Outdated! Could ancestral rules have saved the lives of hundreds of thousands of disaster victims in Jiangnan?"
"These are extraordinary times, and extraordinary measures must be taken! You are all so bound by tradition; are you going to stand by and watch the people of Jiangnan suffer before you are satisfied?!"
"Your Majesty! Please make a decision quickly! The people are in dire straits. If you delay any longer, how will you face the people and your ancestors?!"
Each sound, each word, was like a death warrant.
They are no longer subjects, but a group of executioners wielding the two sharp blades of "public opinion" and "righteousness," gradually forcing Xiao Che to the guillotine of power.
Sitting on the dragon throne, Xiao Che looked at the "loyal" faces below and listened to the words that pierced his heart. He felt as if the blood in his body was about to freeze.
He felt an unprecedented sense of loneliness and despair.
He surveyed the entire Golden Palace, his gaze sweeping over the passionate, unfamiliar, and indifferent faces. He knew that all was lost.
From the moment that blood-written report appeared, he had already lost this game. Xiao Yuan used a natural disaster to manipulate public opinion throughout the court, placing himself on the moral high ground and turning him, the emperor, into a lonely figure who had to choose between "relinquishing power" and "becoming a sinner for all time."
At this very moment, Regent Xiao Yuan, who had been sitting calmly on the sidelines, finally made his move.
He slowly, step by step, walked up the steps of the imperial palace.
With each step he took, the noise within the hall diminished. When he stood three steps away from the imperial desk, the entire Golden Palace returned to a deathly silence.
Everyone held their breath; they knew the final moment had arrived.
Xiao Yuan raised his head and looked at his young nephew on the dragon throne, whose face was pale and whose body was tense. In his eyes, there was no longer the previous grief, nor the feigned benevolence, but only a cold, undisguised, victorious pressure.
He bowed deeply to Xiao Che, seemingly respectfully.
However, what he said next was sharper and more hurtful than any sword.
“Your Majesty,” his voice was not loud, but it clearly reached everyone’s ears, carrying an undeniable sense of pressure, “the disaster is urgent, and the people are in dire straits. We urge Your Majesty to make a decision as soon as possible.”
He slowly straightened up, his gaze sharp as a knife, piercing Xiao Che's heart.
"So as not to miss a golden opportunity..." He paused, each word spoken extremely slowly and heavily, as if proclaiming a final verdict, "...to become a sinner for all time!"
To become a sinner for all time!
These last six words, like a towering mountain, crashed down, completely crushing the last trace of struggle and resistance in Xiao Che's heart.
He lost.
They suffered a crushing defeat.
Looking at the kneeling ministers who seemed even taller than him, the seated emperor, and listening to their piercing "advice," Xiao Che felt all his strength drain away.
He slowly clenched his fist.
His hard nails dug deep into his palm, bringing a sharp, stinging pain. He used this pain to maintain his last vestige of dignity as an emperor.
He knew he had nowhere to retreat.
He either chose to retain power, watching helplessly as hundreds of thousands of people in Jiangnan died, bearing the indelible infamy of a tyrant, and ultimately being overthrown by the angry public opinion.
Alternatively, one could only compromise, relinquish financial, military, and personnel power, and become a complete puppet emperor, merely eking out a living.
He had no other choice.
Xiao Che slowly closed his eyes, his long eyelashes casting a deep shadow under his eyelids.
He knew that when he opened his eyes and spoke again, he would lose not only power, but everything he had as an emperor.
Just as he took a deep breath, preparing to speak and make that humiliating decision—
A clear, calm voice, yet carrying an undeniable power, suddenly rang out from behind the screen.
"Wait a moment!"
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