Chapter 558
Some faces had flushed without their realizing it. Had they not, just moments ago, resembled common folk haggling over the price of vegetables in a marketplace?
Yet when facing Yue Fuguang, Emperor Mingxi’s imposing majesty gradually softened, leaving behind a warmth and patience he showed no one else.
“Fuguang, do you have any thoughts on the new dynastic name?”
Privately, he hoped that Yue Fuguang herself would choose the new name, rather than having one selected from the officials’ discussion. Only then, perhaps, would she feel a little more attachment to Great Yan.
It could be said that Emperor Mingxi spared no effort in tying Great Yan and Yue Fuguang together, hoping to win a little more of her favor.
Perhaps he had sensed something.
Yue Fuguang was called upon once more. After giving it serious thought, she reflected that names such as Great Tang, Great Han, and Great Ming had never existed in this era. They had also all belonged to powerful dynasties of antiquity; any one of them could have been used for Great Yan.
Yet what came out of her mouth was, “‘Yong’ is too rounded and gentle. It is a good name, but it does not suit Great Yan’s present circumstances.”
She tapped the tabletop.
“As for ‘Zhen,’ it is too sharp. Great Yan is changing its dynastic name in order to bring people together, not to intimidate anyone. It is not aimed at any particular party; it is meant to unite everyone.”
Yue Fuguang lifted her gaze and proceeded to comment on He, Zhao, Ding, Cheng, Xuan, Jing, Shun, and the rest, one by one.
Seeing Emperor Mingxi nod repeatedly, she suddenly asked, “Does Your Majesty have a character you favor?”
Emperor Mingxi did not answer immediately. He rose and walked to the twelve folding screens. His fingertips gently brushed across one of them—a map of the territory of Western Qiang, the last of the five kingdoms to fall. The ink looked as fresh as if it had not yet dried.
“I have shed too much blood,” he said, neither loudly nor softly. “The blood of the five kingdoms has stained half the Cang River. If the dynastic name were to include a character like ‘Zhen’—or ‘Wei’...”
He paused, turned to look at her, then shifted his gaze to the assembled officials. Daylight streamed in from outside, flickering in his eyes.
“Never mind what later generations may say of me. Even the people of the five kingdoms, at this very moment, surely only wish to recover and live peaceful lives.”
Yue Fuguang said nothing. She knew that Emperor Mingxi still feared the judgment of history—the endless voices of centuries to come. After all, not everyone could see the benefits of unification. All they would see was how many people had died in this war of unification.
And there was gunpowder. Much of the credit for unifying half the realm so swiftly lay in its power. It had terrified too many people and killed too many as well—and most of those people had not been citizens of Great Yan. Naturally, the common people harbored resentment and feared Great Yan’s imperial court.
But fear alone could not sustain a nation. It also needed love—or, more precisely, a sense of belonging.
Emperor Mingxi returned to the imperial desk.
“Fuguang, my ministers and I both know that Great Yan has reached its present heights entirely because of you. Therefore...” Emperor Mingxi looked at her, his tone sincere and earnest. “Half of this realm is yours. The dynastic name should, of course, be yours to decide.”
Yue Fuguang did not refuse.
She walked to the imperial desk and accepted the brush. Upon the snow-white paper, she wrote two characters.
She did not trace them or sketch their outlines. Her brush fell decisively, the words formed in a single sweep.
Great Xia!
Emperor Mingxi stared at those two characters. His brows shifted slightly.
The entire Xuanzheng Hall fell so silent that everyone could hear their own hearts pounding.
Yue Fuguang took a brief moment to admire her own calligraphy. Her efforts of the past few years had not been in vain—at last, her handwriting was presentable!
“Xia.” She heard Emperor Mingxi slowly pronounce the character. His voice trailed through the vast hall in a long, lingering echo. For some reason, it brought a faint ache to Yue Fuguang’s heart. It was the homeland to which she could never return.
Yue Fuguang turned around, her back to the imperial desk, facing the twelve-panel screen of mountains and rivers. At that moment, her silhouette overlapped with that of the newly completed statue of the Divine Maiden in the Hall of the Divine Maiden. Yet her voice was as light as a breeze brushing across the river’s surface.
“Does Your Majesty know what Xia means?”
Emperor Mingxi rose as well and stood at her side. Together, they gazed upon the immense map of the realm.
“All the ministers have searched through the classics, citing text after text, and proposed dozens of auspicious characters.” Yue Fuguang’s gaze settled upon the land that had once belonged to the Five Kingdoms.
Through the ink and painted lines, she seemed to see the mountains and rivers, the fields and villages she had once nurtured.
“And yet not one of them mentioned this character.” She raised her hand, her fingertips lightly tracing that vast expanse of territory in the air.
“Xia means greatness. It is the very first entry in a book I once read, called the *Erya*. Your Majesty, my lords—Xia means great. The various Xia are the people of the Central Realm. Is that not precisely what unified Dayan is today?”
“Three hundred years ago, this land was originally one Xia.” Yue Fuguang’s voice gradually deepened, like moonlight sinking into a still pool. “Dayan, Nanyue, Nanzhao, Beili, Xiqiang, and the Eastern Yi spoke different languages, yet shared the same writing and similar rites. Their people traveled and traded freely among one another. Only later did war arise, and the land remained divided for three hundred years.”
Three centuries were enough for most people to forget that they had once belonged to the same country. So much time had passed that, if they had not still used the same written language, Yue Fuguang could imagine that she might have had to follow King of Qin’s path once more.
Her gaze fell upon the famous mountains and great rivers she had once traveled through.
“Xia has another meaning,” she said, suddenly turning to face the assembled civil and military officials.
“Hua,” said Yue Fuguang. “In another book I once read, the *Zuo Commentary*, there is a passage: ‘The Central Realm possesses the grandeur of ritual, and is therefore called Xia; it possesses the beauty of its garments and adornments, and is therefore called Hua.’ Xia means greatness; greatness is Hua. Xia is Hua, and Hua is Xia.”
Her voice softened, like a fine string lightly plucked. Her eyes turned toward the hall’s open doors, as though she were looking toward some place unimaginably far away.
In the end, she still missed home. No matter how well she lived here, she still longed for it.
“Your Majesty has taken the Five Kingdoms. There is no need to distinguish one from another any longer. They are people of Xia, and so are you. From this day onward, this land shall have only one name: Xia—the Great Xia.”
Sunlight streamed in from outside, leaving half the great hall bathed in light and shadow. Everyone present, including Emperor Mingxi, was deeply shaken by Yue Fuguang’s words:
‘The Central Realm possesses the grandeur of ritual, and is therefore called Xia; it possesses the beauty of its garments and adornments, and is therefore called Hua.’ Xia means greatness; greatness is Hua. Xia is Hua, and Hua is Xia.