In Luoyang, Tian Kai returned at full speed to the residence of He Jin and was quickly summoned for an audience.
At first, He Jin was in high spirits. With power firmly in his hands and little opposition at court, he greeted Tian Kai with a smile and eagerly asked whether Zhang Xin had agreed to return to the capital.
But Tian Kai's silence immediately signaled trouble.
After clearing the hall and setting strict guards, Tian Kai finally revealed the truth: just as Xu You had predicted, Zhang Xin did indeed possess a secret edict from Emperor Ling of Han—ordering him to support Liu Xie.
He Jin was instantly shaken.
For a moment, panic overtook him—he even called for soldiers before realizing Tian Kai had more to say. Compared to Zhang Xin's calm calculation, this reaction exposed a stark difference in composure.
Tian Kai then delivered Zhang Xin's full message:
Zhang Xin would not oppose the new emperor, for the sake of stability. But if He Jin tried to force him, he would immediately raise an army. With the backing of the Black Mountain Army and barbarian cavalry, he could march south and "defend the emperor."
Hearing "a million Black Mountain troops," He Jin was deeply alarmed. He knew such a force—combined with Zhang Xin's ability—could pose a real threat to Luoyang.
After reading Zhang Xin's private letter, He Jin burned it on the spot, understanding the danger of letting such information spread. Tian Kai wisely warned him: the fewer people who knew about the secret edict, the better. If word spread, others might push Zhang Xin to act—turning a political struggle into open war.
He Jin, now visibly shaken, dismissed Tian Kai and fell into deep thought.
The next day at court, He Jin was still distracted.
When Yuan Wei proposed giving a posthumous title to the late emperor, the court quickly moved to settle the matter. The officials argued that Liu Hong's reign, marked by unrest and internal chaos, fit the posthumous title "Ling."
The court largely agreed.
Even Empress Dowager He supported it, while Empress Dowager Dong opposed her out of instinctive rivalry.
But the final decision rested with He Jin.
At first, he seemed absent-minded—still preoccupied with Zhang Xin. Then suddenly, he spoke.
Rejecting the title "Ling," he argued instead that Liu Hong had expanded territory and supported scholarship, citing achievements like campaigns against Goguryeo and the promotion of classical learning.
He proposed a different title:
"Emperor Xiang."
The court was stunned.
For a man often dismissed as crude and unsophisticated, this was unexpectedly thoughtful—and even aligned with classical standards.
But beneath this decision was something deeper.
He Jin's mind was no longer just on court ritual.
It was on Zhang Xin.
Because now he knew—this was no longer a simple political rivalry.
It was a high-stakes game where one wrong move could ignite a war that would decide the fate of the Han Dynasty.