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

"...The bandits claimed to number a million. Wherever they went, they burned government offices and plundered powerful families. Urgent reports from all over the country poured into Luoyang like snowflakes."

Wang Ming's voice was very low.

"The court is in chaos. Grand Minister of Agriculture Cao Song has requested an audience with His Majesty three times, but has been turned away twice. Grand Commandant Yang Ci entered the palace last night and has not yet emerged."

Liu Bian did not turn around.

"I understand, you may leave."

Wang Ming kowtowed and withdrew.

Only the crackling of charcoal fire remained inside the hall.

Liu Bian stood there for a long time, and suddenly remembered that when he first returned to the palace that year, Empress He hugged him and cried, her tears dripping onto his face, warm and comforting.

He was only seven years old then, but he had the soul of a twenty-seven-year-old in his heart, thinking that he must live a different life in this lifetime.

Now, four years have passed, and he is eleven years old.

The Yellow Turbans did come, and they came earlier and more fiercely.

"The wings of a butterfly..." he murmured, a self-deprecating smile playing on his lips, "Four years of fanning, and all it stirred up was an early uprising?"

He turned around, walked back to the desk, and unfolded a blank scroll.

The pen tip hovered in mid-air, hesitant to fall.

He has to do something.

But what to do?

Deploying troops? Huangfu Song is already on his way, and He Jin has also been granted the rank of Grand General. It's not up to a mere crown prince like him to interfere in matters of military power.

To appease the people? Tong Sheng Medical Hall had already distributed Ding An San, and Hua Tuo's free clinic was packed with people every day. They had done everything they could.

What's left?

He suddenly remembered a name—Kong Rong.

More than a year has passed, and the opportunity has finally arrived.

He got up and summoned Cao Ren:

"Go find Lü Qiang."

-

Lu Qiang's mansion was located in a quiet alley in the western part of the city. There wasn't even a stone lion at the entrance; only two old soldiers guarded it.

Liu Bian brought only Cao Ren with him, dressed in the clothes of an ordinary scholar, and knocked on the door knocker.

An old servant opened the door, squinted at them for a few moments, and asked, "Who are you looking for?"

"Please inform them that an old friend has come to visit."

The old servant went inside for a while, and then footsteps could be heard coming from inside.

The door opened, and Lü Qiang came out to greet him personally—he was dressed in a casual dark robe, his hair was already turning white, and his face showed a hint of surprise.

"Your Highness?" he lowered his voice, "Why are you..."

Liu Bian cupped his hands in greeting: "Attendant Lü, please forgive my unauthorized visit."

Lu Qiang paused for a moment, then stepped aside: "Please come in quickly."

The group then went inside.

Charcoal was burning in the study, and Lü Qiang personally poured Liu Bian a bowl of hot soup.

"Your Highness shouldn't have come," he sighed. "Coming to a eunuch's residence at this time... if word gets out..."

"It is precisely because of this that I have come here." Liu Bian took the soup bowl, but did not drink it. He just held it to warm his hands. "Attendant Lü, I have something I would like to ask of you."

Lü Qiang's brow twitched: "Your Highness, please speak."

"I would like to ask you to jointly submit a petition to the Emperor, requesting the lifting of the Party Prohibitions."

Lu Qiang's hand stopped.

He looked up at Liu Bian, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes—surprise, wariness, and a hint of...exhaustion that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Does Your Highness know who I am?"

"Zhongchangshi, eunuch."

"A eunuch petitioning to lift the ban on the partisans?" Lü Qiang laughed, but with a bitter smile. "Those scholars hate us to the bone. If His Highness asks me to submit a petition, they'll only think it's a trap."

"So it's not just you." Liu Bian put down his soup bowl, looked him straight in the eye, and said, "I will sign the memorial. Kong Rong and Yang Biao will also sign it."

Lü Qiang's pupils contracted slightly.

"Kong Wenju... Yang Shi..." he murmured, "Is Your Highness trying to drag half of the Qingliu faction into this?"

"It's not about bringing them in," Liu Bian shook his head. "It's about telling them—the court needs them. Not the eunuchs, not the imperial relatives, but the court, the entire world needs them."

Lü Qiang remained silent for a long time.

He walked to the table, pulled out the paper from the inside, and placed it on the table.

The handwriting on the paper was neat, with varying shades of ink, clearly indicating that it had been written and revised repeatedly.

Liu Bian picked up the paper and glanced at its contents—

"The factional stagnation has been accumulating for a long time, and people are filled with resentment. If they are not pardoned, they will conspire with the enemy, and the rebellion will escalate."

"Please first execute the corrupt officials around you, grant amnesty to the party members, and see if the governors and prefects are capable of doing so."

Liu Bian smiled and looked at Lü Qiang:

"Was Attendant Lü just now doubting my loyalty?"

"Does Your Highness know why I have been able to survive in the palace until today?" Lü Qiang did not answer Liu Bian's question, but instead asked Liu Bian a question in return.

Liu Bian didn't reply, he just looked at him.

"Because I never take sides," Lü Qiang said slowly. "When the eunuchs fight with the empress's relatives, I stay out of it; when the scholars criticize the eunuchs, I listen. His Majesty uses me because he knows I have no selfish motives, no cronies, and no ambition."

He raised his head and looked at Liu Bian:

"Your Highness has come today to ask me to break this precedent."

Liu Bian remained noncommittal.

"When the Yellow Turban Rebellion broke out, urgent calls for help came from all over the country. But what good were these calls for help?"

"The county magistrate dares not defend the territory, and the prefectural governor dares not fight, because they have no one under their command. Those who are capable are either in exile, living in seclusion, or watching the court make a fool of itself."

"Release the party bans, and the hearts of the soldiers will return to the court." Liu Bian said, "If the hearts of the soldiers return to the court, the Yellow Turbans will lose half of their supply lines and mouths."

Liu Bian looked at the paper: "You and I both understand this principle."

Lü Qiang nodded, then looked at Liu Bian with some confusion:

"However, Your Highness said that Kong Wenju and Lady Yang will also submit a memorial together. How confident is Your Highness about this matter?"

Liu Bian stopped beating around the bush.

"To be honest, Attendant Lü," he said slowly, "Wenju and Lady Yang asked me to discuss lifting their imprisonment a year ago."

"At that time, things were beyond our control, so I agreed to their three-year agreement."

"Now that the Yellow Turban Rebellion has broken out, the eight provinces are shaken. His Majesty needs the hearts of the people, the court needs the hearts of the people, the time has come."

"Therefore, I have come to invite Attendant Lü to help me push open this door."

Lü Qiang did not answer immediately, but instead lowered his head and looked at his aged hands.

Age spots have appeared on the back of my hands, veins are bulging, and my knuckles are slightly deformed—these are the marks left by forty-three years of holding a pen and a tablet.

"Forty-three years ago, when I first entered the palace, all I wanted was to live," he murmured. "But as I lived, I started to wonder if I could live like a human being."

He looked up, his eyes reddening—the kind of pain that had been suppressed for years and suddenly exposed.

"His Highness asked me to submit this memorial so that I could do the last thing in my life and act like a human being."

Liu Bian's gaze faltered slightly, as if he had been gently struck by those words.

Lü Qiang said no more. He stood up, straightened his clothes, and suddenly bowed deeply to Liu Bian:

"Your subject... obeys."

-

When Liu Bian returned to Chengde Hall, it was already dark.

He took off his outer robe, sat at the table for a moment, and suddenly spoke: "Wang Ming."

Wang Ming entered from outside the door: "Your Highness."

"Go and invite Kong Wenju and Grand Commandant Yang—tell them that I am waiting for them at the Eastern Palace, as I have important matters to discuss with them."

Wang Ming responded and turned to leave.

Liu Bian leaned against the armchair and closed his eyes.

My mind was filled with Lü Qiang's words: "Let me do the last thing in my life like a human being."

Forty-three years.

For forty-three years, he dared not take sides, dared not speak, dared not do anything memorable. Yet, in the end, he was willing to risk his life for a single petition.

Liu Bian suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

Footsteps came from outside the door, faster than expected.

He opened his eyes and saw Wang Ming leading two people in—Kong Rong was walking in front, his steps brisk, his anxiety almost impossible to hide. But the person following behind him was not Yang Ci.

It's Yang Biao.

Liu Bian was slightly taken aback, then stood up: "Lord Yang, he..."

Yang Biao stepped forward to pay his respects, and as he straightened up, a complex look flashed in his eyes: "My father has been unwell recently and is resting quietly at home. I am afraid he will catch a cold if he goes to the palace, so I have sent him in his place."

Liu Bian suddenly remembered the dates in his memory—Yang Cishou's lifespan was short, at most less than two years.

He stood there, looking at Yang Biao's young face—Yang Biao should have been in his early thirties, in the prime of his life. But his father could no longer get up.

Liu Bian suddenly felt a tightness in his throat.

He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what to say.

To say "I know your father doesn't have much time left"? To say "please accept my condolences"? These words are absurd to say now.

Yang Biao seemed to sense something and slightly raised his eyes: "Your Highness?"

Liu Bian snapped out of his daze, suppressed the indescribable bitterness in his heart, and nodded:

"Grand Commandant Yang has worked tirelessly for the country; I... have taken note. Vice Minister Yang, please have a seat."

The group took their seats.

Liu Bian didn't beat around the bush and directly recounted his trip to Lü's residence—from the memorial written on Lü Qiang's desk to the phrase "Let me do the last thing in my life like a human being," to the deep bow and the final "Your subject obeys."

Kong Rong's eyes lit up halfway through his speech. As soon as Liu Bian finished, he abruptly stood up:

"Did Lü Qiang agree?"

Liu Bian nodded: "I agree."

Kong Rong's eyes suddenly reddened:

"The three-year agreement has only been in effect for less than two years."

"Your Majesty... Your Majesty thought we would have to wait longer. You thought we would have to wait until the Yellow Turbans reached the walls of Luoyang before Your Majesty would relent. I never expected..."

He couldn't continue.

Liu Bian said softly, "Wenju, I am merely fulfilling my promise."

"This isn't fulfilling the agreement!" Kong Rong's voice trembled slightly. "If Your Highness truly wanted to fulfill the agreement, you could have waited until the full three years were up before taking action. Then no one could find fault with you. But Your Highness is pushing it out now—the Yellow Turban Rebellion has just begun, the court is in a state of panic. Pushing it out now is like playing with fire, like walking on a knife's edge!"

He walked up to Liu Bian and bowed deeply:

"Your Highness, on behalf of all the scholars of the land, I thank you."

Liu Bian quickly helped him up: "Wenju, get up."

Kong Rong couldn't get along.

Liu Bian sighed and looked at Yang Biao: "Yang Qing, please help me get him up."

Yang Biao, however, did not move.

"Your Highness."

"My father asked me to pass on a message to Your Highness."

Liu Bian looked at him.

Yang Biao said slowly, "My father said that since the Yang family joined the Crown Prince's camp three years ago, they will not back down today."

"The gate of the Party Prohibitions, Your Highness, is one that we are willing to push open together. If we open it, the scholars of the world will have a breath of fresh air; if we cannot open it..."

He paused:

"Even if she can't push him away, Yang will accept it."

Liu Bian's pupils contracted slightly.

He suddenly understood what was in Yang Biao's eyes—it was entrustment.

Yang Ci couldn't get up, so he sent his son instead.

He came not just to discuss matters, but to tell Liu Bian that the Yang family would not back down just because the head of the family was ill.

Liu Bian remained silent for a moment, then nodded solemnly to Yang Biao:

"I've noted it down."

Yang Biao didn't say anything more, he just returned the greeting.

Kong Rong finally straightened up, wiped his face, and regained some of his usual composure: "Your Highness, when will Lü Qiang's memorial be submitted?"

"First thing tomorrow morning."

"I will write my memorial tonight," Kong Rong said. "Minister Yang—"

Yang Biao nodded: "The Yang family's memorial will also be prepared tonight."

"Then tomorrow it will be." Liu Bian stood up. "Tomorrow morning, submit all three memorials to the Zhangde Hall."

Kong Rong and Yang Biao stood up and bowed at the same time.

Outside the window, night had completely fallen.

Inside the Chengde Hall, however, the lights were burning brightly.