Chương 670: Boss, sit down.

Before we knew it, the world was at peace. The children had all grown up, and they had all grown old.

"Big brother..." Zhang Fei's nose felt a little sore, and he wanted to say something but couldn't get the words out.

"Hey, stop being so sentimental." Liu Ce suddenly laughed and waved his hand.

"Nobody gets old, right? We're getting old, and the kids are growing up. Isn't that a good thing?"

He pointed to the table of the second-generation rich kids, where the young men and women were having a great time, full of youthful energy:

"Look at them, all so full of energy. The future belongs to them. As for us, we should just enjoy our retirement, go hunting, and have a drink. That's good enough."

"Brother is right!" Zhang Fei slapped his thigh.

"The children have all made something of themselves; it's time for us to take a break!"

"But Yun Chang, don't admit you're getting old." Liu Ce patted Guan Yu's arm with a smile.

"I still remember how mighty you were back then. You could fight for another ten years and still be no problem. I heard from them that the way you split the bear in half was still as powerful as it was back then."

Guan Yu's eyes welled up with tears. He bowed and took the bowl, saying, "I thank you, Brother. I can still fight for you, Brother, and for the Han Dynasty, for another ten years!"

"Let's do it!"

"Cheers!" A group of people raised their bowls and clashed them together, spilling a few drops of wine.

I drank it all in one gulp; the strong liquor went down my throat and warmed my heart.

The past battles and the present peace and prosperity are all contained in this bowl of wine.

The banquet ended at the beginning of the 7 PM.

The moon rose, round and bright, its silvery light spilling across the ground like a layer of frost.

The maple forest in Shanglin Garden turned a dark red under the moonlight, and the wind rustled through the leaves, like humming a little tune.

The charcoal fire still had some residual heat. The last few pheasant legs on the grill were secretly taken by the Third Prince Liu Yao, who stuffed one into his pocket, saying he would take it back for a midnight snack.

The eunuchs busied themselves clearing the table and carrying the game, their steps light, as if afraid of disturbing the tranquility.

"Back to the palace," Liu Ce called out.

"Yes!" Everyone stood up, some rubbing their legs, others grabbing things.

The children were all tired from playing, and they looked listless, having lost the energy they had when they arrived.

The concubines' carriages started moving first, rumbling and grinding through the fallen leaves as they went.

Liu Ce led his horse, with eleven foals following behind, and civil and military officials accompanying him on both sides. The large group of people slowly walked out of the hunting palace.

"Boss," Liu Ce suddenly spoke without turning around, "Later, you lead the team to count the total number of hunted animals, classify and record them well. Send the meat to the Imperial Kitchen and various mansions, and collect the furs from the Imperial Household Department. Make clothes for those that need them, and reward those that need them."

"Yes," the eldest prince, Liu Chen, replied steadily.

"Also," Liu Ce added, "give each of the artisans, imperial guards, and attendants who participated today a small reward. They've worked hard all day. Don't let them work for nothing."

"I understand."

When Liu Ce reached the old oak tree outside the hunting palace, he stopped and looked back at the outline of Shanglin Garden.

The dark mountain shadows, and the faint smells of charcoal, barbecue, and the raw, grassy scents in the forest blend together—the smells of autumn and life itself, real and vibrant.

Today was a day filled with laughter and commotion, moments of embarrassment and triumph, youthful vigor and reflections on the passage of time.

Unlike the solemnity of the imperial court or the restraint of the palace, it's just a group of people having a lively and fun day out, which is very relaxing.

"Let's go." Liu Ce mounted his horse swiftly.

"Yes!" The sound of horses' hooves clattered, and eleven children followed. The sound of the carriage wheels faded into the night.

The moonlight cast long shadows, making the long line resemble a slowly flowing river.

Liu Ce, mounted on his horse, looked up at the moon, then down at the children beside him, and then at the civil and military officials behind him.

The autumn wind is a bit chilly, but my heart is warm.

He smiled softly.

The autumn hunt at Shanglin Garden can be considered a success.

And there will be many more days like this in the future.

..................

October of the eleventh year of Shenwu.

Autumn arrived suddenly and fiercely in Luoyang. Last night, a west wind swept through, and the ginkgo leaves at the foot of the palace wall were covered with a thick layer of gold. Stepping on them made a rustling sound, like a golden carpet.

The window of the Imperial Study was half open, and the wind blew in two leaves, which landed on the pile of memorials on Liu Ce's desk. He then casually pushed them aside and began twirling his pen.

The desk was piled high with documents: on the left were memorials from various provinces regarding the autumn tax collection, stacked almost as tall as a person...

In the middle lay a newly delivered railway map from the Ministry of Works, densely covered with red and blue pens, arrows everywhere, looking like a spider web...

On the right is a half-eaten pastry, which Cai Yan sent this morning, but I forgot to eat it because I was busy.

Crown Prince Liu Chen stood before the desk, holding a scroll of policy essays with the ink still wet in both hands, and respectfully handed it over, his back ramrod straight.

This question was given to me by Liu Ce half a month ago: If Emperor Xiaowu does not issue the decree of grace, what other methods are there to deal with the vassal kings?

Liu Chen wrote a full three thousand words, from the economic dilution method of relocating the powerful Maoling to the fiscal binding of the state monopoly on salt and iron, and finally added a paragraph saying that if it were combined with the equalization of transportation and price stabilization, the princes would not even be able to raise enough money to support their retainers.

After finishing writing it, I read it through three times and found the logic to be airtight. Even my maternal grandfather, Cai Yong, stroked his beard and praised it, saying, "Insightful."

Liu Ce took it and flipped through the pages quickly, not scrutinizing it word by word, but like flipping through a recipe.

When I saw the section on "equalization and leveling", my fingertips paused for a moment, and the corners of my mouth twitched slightly. I didn't say anything and continued to scroll down.

After turning the last page, he casually put the policy essay aside, neither praising nor scolding, and looked up at his son who was standing ramrod straight. His first words were, "Eldest son, sit down."

Liu Chen's heart skipped a beat.

From childhood to adulthood, his father called him "Big Brother" and told him to "sit down" instead of "recite," "answer questions," or "tell me your opinion." This basically meant that he was going to hear some "unorthodox" words that would shatter his worldview.

The last time was when he was nine years old. He had just finished reciting the Analects with his grandfather and was swaying his head as he recited "The ruler should act like a ruler, the minister like a minister, the father like a father, and the son like a son" when his father came over and shoved the book aside, saying to him, "Confucianism is a tool, not a faith..."

After hearing this, he went home that day and dreamed that Confucius was chasing him with a ruler, shouting "You rebellious disciple, don't run away!" The next day, his maternal grandfather tested him on the interpretation of the classics, and he blurted out, "Confucianism is used to maintain stability." This angered Cai Yong so much that he punished him by making him copy the Analects three times, until his hands were swollen.

When his father found out later, he not only didn't speak up for him, but also laughed at him while eating watermelon: "It's good to copy, practice your calligraphy. Besides, your grandfather was right, you have to keep up appearances, otherwise those Confucian scholars will be crying and wailing at you every day, and you won't be able to handle them."

Judging from his father's demeanor this time, it was probably even more impactful than when he was nine years old. Liu Chen sat down properly on the armchair next to him, his back still straight, his hands on his knees, displaying the standard demeanor of a crown prince, not even daring to breathe too loudly.