"Imperial Grandson..." Hearing these words, Chai Kejing choked up for a moment. Afraid that the Imperial Grandson might see, he hurriedly lowered his head and kowtowed.
Having served as an official for ten years, how many times had he heard superiors play tai chi where responsibility was yours while credit was theirs? How many times had he heard a superior act with such iron-clad decisiveness and willingness to bear the burden?
Let alone the Imperial Grandson?
Su Ziji merely nodded and said nothing more.
How many officials thought that such behavior was statecraft and brilliance, yet forgot a fundamental point?
How many dynasties could rise simply by comforting the people and punishing the wicked, driving out northern barbarians, lifting up a collapsing mansion, and rescuing the common people from water and fire?
This was stepping up to the plate.
Could anyone who whipped up winds and rain or pacified raging torrents rely solely on their own ability?
No, it was because they commanded the Mandate of Heaven that when they raised their arms in a cry, responders gathered like clouds.
Why did one gain the mandate of the realm? It was precisely because one could step up.
When the Han Dynasty General Liang wanted to abandon the border prefectures, the news barely spread before a whole prefecture revolted. Expecting border prefectures to remain loyal after being abandoned, wasn't that thinking a bit too favorably?
History chose you precisely so you could step up. If you didn't step up and instead retreated, you deserved to step down, you deserved to die—it was that simple.
Statecraft, no matter how formidable, was merely branches and leaves. A ruler was essentially a hard-headed figure pushed forward, a backbone hero. Regardless of the organization or country, the moment they stopped standing firm, they would rapidly