Mythical Three Kingdoms

With a unified plan in place, progress sped up considerably. The Cao and Sun faction, worried about Liu Bei’s ascension, were eager for Princess Wannian to quickly assume regency, while Liu Yu, fearing rebellion from Cao and Sunx, needed someone to mediate and take charge. Meanwhile, Liu Bei and Liu Zhang were indifferent to the proceedings.

However, their lack of obstruction was the biggest catalyst, naturally rendering the matter a fait accompli. Originally expected to last twenty-five years, the Jian’an Era in this age lasted only two, coming to a halt even before the third year began.

After the Grand Princess assumed regency, Chen Xi formally requested the establishment of a new era name. Truth be told, Chen Xi did this so that when future historians recorded this period, it would be documented with a complete era designation, viewing the significant events of this time from a constitutional perspective.

Chen Xi’s proposal was somewhat unorthodox—normally, a new era name is established when an emperor ascends the throne or during major events of their rule, termed a change of era—but Chen Xi immediately pushed for a new era name, puzzling others, although ”others” only numbered a few.

Liu Bei found no issue with it, nor did Cao Cao, and Sunx Ce didn’t even give it thought. Liu Zhang and Liu Yu neither agreed nor disagreed, and the rest had no voice in the matter.

Thus, the era name became Yuanfeng. While others didn’t see much significance in this, Jia Xu, faintly grasping some of Chen Xi’s calculations, couldn’t help but have a twitching eyelid, suspecting more strategies from Chen Xi to follow.

Of course, Jia Xu wouldn’t speak of it—voicing such suspicions now would be self-sabotaging. Once the matter is firmly established, everyone will naturally understand Chen Xi’s intentions.

”How many years will the Yuanfeng era last in total?” Jia Xu privately asked Chen Xi.

”Twenty years.” On the first day of the First Year of Yuanfeng, Chen Xi revealed to Jia Xu.

”And in the latter five years, will the Regent Grand Princess support the Emperor?” Jia Xu pondered for a moment and inquired.

”If she doesn’t practice, how can you be assured?” Chen Xi replied calmly.

”Then how many years will the next era last?” Jia Xu asked after a brief silence.

”Twenty years. In youth, one is ambitious and has the support of predecessors for five years. Though impulsiveness and recklessness are unavoidable, as time passes and complacency sets in, to eradicate these ills, the leader cannot be an elder.” Chen Xi explained placidly.

”You truly are formidable. The Regent Grand Princess? It’s probably the Legitimate Princess who will inherit the position!” Jia Xu sighed deeply and, with some resignation, inquired.

”That depends on her abilities. I have pushed her to this extent, calculated as it may be, but having given all that should be given, how far she can go truly depends on herself.” Chen Xi replied nonchalantly. A female emperor? Ha, hopeful as it might sound, it’s simply impossible.

Perhaps Jia Xu relayed these words to Princess Wannian, or maybe Wannian had gathered some insight into Chen Xi’s plans from elsewhere. Regardless, from then on, Princess Wannian’s attitude towards Chen Xi was noticeably better, at least no longer as cold as before.

After establishing the new era, the regency of the Grand Princess only decreed a few matters: one was to thoroughly investigate the chaos in Chang’an, tabulate casualties and losses; secondly, to command the current high-ranking officials over Two Thousand Bushels to discuss filling the positions of Senior Ministers, revitalizing the Imperial Court; the third was to draft rewards for the military officers at the Northern Frontier; lastly, to handle the issues left by Liu Xie.

Chen Xi wasn’t sure if Liu Tong had been taught these matters by someone else, but in terms of Liu Tong’s performance, she was much wiser than Liu Xie, adept at maneuvering and exploiting opportunities.

As for the posthumous title for Liu Xie, it was determined as Emperor Xiaomin of Han, laying his brief life to rest without much investigation into questionable past deeds, a title Liu Tong was relatively satisfied with.

After all, even Liu Tong had to admit that her brother indeed did not do well, and receiving a moderate title was something she considered fortunate. Reflecting on her own father, Emperor Ling of Han, who received a notorious title—those ministers showed no leniency in concluding his life.

Liu Bei’s ability to argue for a posthumous title for Liu Xie indeed won the Regent Grand Princess’s considerable goodwill.

”Whew, appointing so many officials is such a hassle,” Chen Xi sighed. During this period, Cao Cao, Liu Bei, Sunx Ce, and Liu Zhang frequently consulted, yet due to the large number of personnel involved, an immediate plan was hard to devise.

”Zichuan, how’s it going?” Liu Ye asked Chen Xi.

”Not well. I’ve already drafted the most crucial vacant official positions and considered the merits in the Northern Frontier conflicts. But there’s a significant issue: once we leave, the originally functional system will collapse due to the massive removal of personnel.” Chen Xi shook his head. Lately, Liu Ye had it relatively easy.

”Are you seriously concerned about the system collapsing after we leave?” Liu Ye asked incredulously, ”I haven’t seen you work so hard in years.”

”Why else would I take on the role of Imperial Secretariat and Chief of Staff?” Chen Xi spread his hands helplessly. ”If it’s not done well now, I’ll have to do it again later. The biggest problem is that not only might we leave, but they might too.”

Liu Ye’s expression grew serious; he pondered for a bit, then nodded—what Chen Xi said made a lot of sense.

”That’s why the system needs to be designed very meticulously now, and for ease of use later, it’s best to perfect it in one go,” Chen Xi sighed, ”Taking apart any part, should enable the remaining system to function, and the removed part could also function independently. Such systems do exist, but they each have their own flaws.”