Chang'an grew ever more prosperous. Stream after stream flowed murmuring around the mountains before converging outside the city. Besides the Wei River, other tributaries wound like ribbons of jade, irrigating this beautiful plain, where more than a million people of Guanzhong tilled their fields.
"Eight Rivers Surround Chang'an, the foundation of emperors for ten thousand generations!"
Luo Xin sighed with feeling. Gazing at the scene before him, he felt thoroughly at ease. His temples had begun to whiten, and the flesh of his face sagged slightly, yet his bearing remained as upright as ever, his back always straight. The wind brushed his robes, which even looked a little worn.
They were indeed rather old. This official robe was the one Lü Zhi had bestowed on him all those years ago. He was a nostalgic man, and since he was still Chancellor after all these years, he had never replaced it.
"Your Majesty, this land and these waters are the foundation of Great Han and of All Xia for ten thousand generations.
"As long as these rivers remain, as long as the plains of Guanzhong remain, this place can nourish millions of subjects. With those millions here, All Xia can prosper forever.
"The verdant forests on those lofty mountains must be protected, and these rivers encircling Chang'an must be dredged promptly. When I return, I will promulgate the 'Forest Law.' I hope all future emperors will abide by it."
Liu Heng stood beside him. Compared with when he had first ascended the throne two years earlier, he had grown a little taller, but he still looked like a small child. He nodded at these words.
Then he looked toward the distant fields, his face full of curiosity, and asked, "Uncle, what did you bring me here to do? Are we going