Great Song Dynasty Writer

Chapter 331 Are you raising assassins here?
February in Kaifeng should be a time when willows sprout green and all things revive in spring, but an unexpected spring rain disrupted the warming rhythm.

The drizzle, like mist and smoke, has been falling for three days and three nights without stopping.

The air seemed to carry a biting chill, and faced with this "late spring cold snap," people had no choice but to dig out their winter clothes, which they had just put away, to keep warm.

The sky above the palace was overcast, and rain dripped down the glazed tiles, splashing up tiny droplets on the ground.

Inside the Chuigong Hall, Emperor Zhao Zhen had just entered when, without waiting for the palace servants to attend to him, he took off his plain clothes, which were damp with rain. The eunuch quickly and carefully took them from him.

He had just braved the rain to attend the funeral of Wang Deyong, the military governor of Zhongwu and chancellor, before returning to the palace.

The somber atmosphere in the mourning hall weighed heavily on Zhao Zhen's heart.

He posthumously granted Wang Deyong the titles of Grand Commandant and Chancellor, with the posthumous name "Wu Gong," and also bestowed upon his family a special allowance of one hundred taels of gold. However, seeing the Wang family's tearful gratitude, Zhao Zhen felt a sense of powerlessness wash over him.
No matter how generous the reward, how can it buy back a loyal and capable general?

With Mei Zhi being transferred to a post outside the capital and Wang Deyong passing away, it seemed that all the capable ministers and generals in the court were leaving him due to the power struggles in the imperial court. But by this time, Zhao Zhen couldn't say for sure when this increasingly bad trend had started.

"Perhaps it stems from the dispute between Ding Wei and Kou Zhun during the reign of Emperor Zhenzong."

Just as Zhao Zhen was indulging in some self-deception and wild thoughts, Deng Xuanyan suddenly strode in, but stopped abruptly upon entering the Chuigong Hall.

The sudden change in pace silenced the palace servants present.

—Something's happened.

"Your Majesty, urgent dispatch."

Zhao Zhen frowned and asked, "Where did this urgent document come from?"

Deng Xiaoping only said two words: "Chenzhou".

Upon hearing this, Zhao Zhen suddenly felt flustered and even felt dizzy.

He managed to stand still, then took the document and unfolded it. His fingertips trembled uncontrollably, and the paper itself shook.

Chenzhou reports that Di Qing, the Protector-General of the State and Chancellor, passed away last night.

Zhao Zhen slumped back into his throne, as if all his strength had been drained away.

Wang Deyong and Di Qing, both former Privy Councilors, were his trusted and beloved generals in the past, but they were both impeached by civil officials last year and forced to resign. One retired and the other was demoted.

Emperor Zhao Zhen intended to reinstate them after the turmoil subsided, but unexpectedly, they all passed away shortly after the following spring.

At this moment, the hall was silent except for the ticking of the water clock.

As Zhao Zhen sat on his throne, gazing at the misty rain outside the palace, he recalled Di Qing's former heroic figure.

During the Qingli era, Di Qing, with his hair disheveled and wearing a bronze mask, would charge into enemy territory, invincible in every way. But now, with the Northwest still unsettled, this great general has passed away.

An indescribable sense of sorrow welled up in Zhao Zhen's heart, and in that instant, he felt utterly alone.

Although he was the emperor of the Song Dynasty, in his old age he could not protect anything and left nothing behind. His beloved woman, cherished children, and favored generals all left him.

After decades of ups and downs, what is left of him besides his aging and ailing body?
The fear between life and death is immense. Zhao Zhen, who had just suffered a stroke and nearly suffocated last year, had actually seen through people's hearts. Looking around, he knew very well that apart from the guards who had to depend on him for survival, only his daughter, Princess Fukang, truly cared about him.

Whether it was the empress, members of the imperial family, civil officials, or anyone else, they all longed for the day when he would pass away. Only when he died would these people have the opportunity to advance their positions immediately, and the court would be reshuffled.

"deliver an imperial order."

Emperor Zhao Zhen said in a hoarse voice, "I hereby posthumously confer upon Di Qing the title of Grand Chancellor and the posthumous name 'Wu Xiang'. I express my condolences in the Forbidden City."

The sound echoed in the vast hall, sounding exceptionally desolate.

He thought that since he was in seclusion, no one could control him now.

Deng Xuanyan accepted the order and quietly withdrew.

Zhao Zhen stood alone, gazing at the rain-soaked palace walls outside the window, motionless for a long time. The pattering rain seemed to be playing a mournful song for the generals he had lost.

His face appeared exceptionally pale under the dim palace lanterns; the months of toil and successive blows had made this already frail monarch even more haggard.

After an unknown amount of time, the sound of footsteps broke the silence in the hall.

"Your Majesty, Bao Zheng, Right Assistant Secretary and Acting Prefect of Kaifeng, requests an audience."

Zhao Zhen composed himself and rubbed his temples. "Summon them."

Bao Zheng strode into the hall, dressed in a scarlet robe and gold belt, his expression solemn.

While waiting outside the hall, the rain had already soaked the hem of his official robe, leaving faint watermarks on the hall bricks with each step he took.

After paying his respects according to etiquette, Bao Zheng began to report on the recent affairs of Kaifeng Prefecture, including the dredging of the Grand Canal, the security of the city and its districts, and preparations for spring planting. His report was well-organized and concise.

Zhao Zhen listened quietly, occasionally asking questions.

In general, Bao Zheng did his best to govern Kaifeng, and his methods of reforming various places were quite systematic.

After finishing his official duties, Bao Zheng did not take his leave as usual.

He remained silent for a moment, then suddenly straightened his clothes and bowed deeply to the throne.

"Your Majesty, the position of Crown Prince has been vacant for a long time, and all the subjects of the land are eagerly awaiting it, filled with anxiety and fear. I dare to ask, this is a matter of great importance concerning the foundation of the nation, why has Your Majesty delayed in making a decision for so long?"

The air inside the hall suddenly froze.

The palace servants and eunuchs standing there all held their breath and lowered their heads, not daring to make the slightest sound.

Zhao Zhen understood Bao Zheng's uprightness, but the matter of choosing an heir was too complicated.

Although he had already lost three sons in succession—Prince Yang Zhao Fang died young in the fourth year of Jingyou, Prince Yu Zhao Xin died young in the first year of Qingli, and Prince Jing Zhao Xi died young in the third year of Qingli—he still held a glimmer of hope in his heart that his own sons would inherit the throne.

The frequent urging from his court officials on this matter inevitably aroused his suspicions.

Are these people genuinely concerned about the country, or are they trying to gamble on the future and gain some "merit for the country"?
Zhao Zhen looked at Bao Zheng.

This elderly official, who was over sixty years old, was a Jinshi (successful candidate in the highest imperial examination) in the fifth year of the Tiansheng era, along with Wen Yanbo, Han Qi, and Wang Yaochen.

Now Wen Yanbo holds the high position of prime minister, Han Qi is in charge of the Privy Council, and Wang Yaochen has also joined the ranks of prime ministers, while Bao Zheng has just been appointed as the acting prefect of Kaifeng.

According to the official system of the Song Dynasty, if a person who was acting as the prefect of Kaifeng wanted to be promoted to the two prefectures, he usually had to go through important positions under the two prefectures, such as the vice censor-in-chief and the commissioner of the three departments. Bao Zheng was still inexperienced, so why was he so eager to ask for the establishment of a crown prince? Could it be that he wanted to take this shortcut and be promoted to a higher position after the crown prince ascended the throne?

A thousand thoughts raced through Zhao Zhen's mind, but he showed no sign of it on his face. He simply asked in return, "Since you say so, does Minister Bao have someone in mind? In your opinion, who should I appoint as my heir?"

The question was asked casually, but it concealed a deadly intent. The air in the hall seemed to freeze, and even the sound of rain seemed to stop.

Upon hearing this, Bao Zheng's body trembled violently.

He collapsed to the ground and wept bitterly, his cries echoing in the empty hall, so sincere and moving that all who heard them were deeply touched.

"Your Majesty is of limited talent and shallow learning, and is utterly foolish. Your humble request to establish a crown prince as soon as possible is entirely for the sake of the eternal stability of the Song Dynasty's ancestral temple and state! Your Majesty's question today about who I favor suggests that you suspect I harbor selfish motives!"

He raised his head, tears streaming down his face, his voice choked with emotion: "Your Majesty, please understand! I am fifty-nine years old this year, my hair is gray, and I am very old! Moreover, my eldest son, Bao Yi, died young, leaving no heir to continue the family line. My words today are not for my own benefit, nor to seek any wealth or favor for my descendants! Heaven can bear witness, my heart belongs only to the country and its people!"

Zhao Zhen gazed at his graying hair and the stream of tears streaming down his face; his grief seemed genuine.

He recalled that Bao Zheng had indeed had difficulty conceiving; his only son, Bao Yi, died young in his twenties, and Bao Zheng had also experienced the pain of a parent outliving their child.

At this moment, most of Zhao Zhen's suspicions dissipated, and he felt a sense of relief. At least, the old minister in front of him was not acting out of personal motives.

His expression softened, and he said gently, "I know of Bao Qing's loyalty. Please rise and speak."

However, despite the reassurance, he still had not made up his mind about establishing an heir.

For Zhao Zhen, this was a matter of taking it one day at a time; he would never hand over the Song Dynasty to someone who wasn't his own son until the very last moment.

After all, since it wasn't his own son who succeeded to the throne, it was questionable whether he would even be allowed to enter the ancestral temple in the future.

This has happened far too many times in history; it was entirely predictable.

Seeing that Bao Zheng still refused to get up, Zhao Zhen signaled to the eunuchs to help Bao Zheng up.

At this point, his tone softened, and he almost coaxed Bao Zheng, saying, "Establishing an heir is the foundation of the country and a matter of great importance. It still requires careful consideration and a gradual approach. You may leave now. I have a good understanding of this matter."

Bao Zheng wiped away his tears, knowing that he could only say so much for today, so he bowed and took his leave.

Watching Bao Zheng's usually tall but now slightly hunched figure disappear outside the hall, Zhao Zhen sighed softly. The hall returned to silence, but his heart was far from at peace.

He walked to the window. The rain had stopped sometime earlier, but the sky was still overcast, and water dripped from the glazed tiles, making a sound that reached his ears.

Zhao Zhen couldn't help but think of his sons who had died young. If Fang'er, Xi'er, and Xin'er were still alive, they would be seventeen to twenty years old now, perhaps just like those young talents taking the imperial examinations nearby, in the prime of their lives.

Thinking of this, he felt another pang of pain in his heart, a desolation mixed with an unspeakable regret.

Feeling troubled, Zhao Zhen put on his outer robe and, accompanied by several eunuchs, strolled through the palace after the rain.

Just then, a soft murmur of conversation drifted on the wind; it was the voice of several palace servants passing by over the wall.

"The Cold Food Festival is next month, shouldn't we start preparing wheat cakes and thick glutinous rice cakes?"

"And there's willow planting too. I heard we need to select the best willow branches for the inner garden first; we can't just pick what others have left over."

"The ban on fire must be explained to the new palace staff in advance; they cannot be exposed to open flames during those days." — Cold Food Festival.

In the Song Dynasty, this was one of the "three major festivals" alongside New Year's Day and the Winter Solstice, and it's next month.

The Rites of Zhou states, "In the second month of spring, fire is repaired with a wooden bell and prohibited throughout the country." This is a festival for remembering the deceased and forbidding fire and eating cold food, filled with sorrow. However, listening to the discussions of the palace servants, Zhao Zhen's heart was suddenly stirred.

The successive loss of princes and beloved generals—was it a sign of my own moral failings, a warning from Heaven? Perhaps I should accumulate some good deeds in secret, hoping for Heaven's mercy, so that I might be able to hope for offspring?

Once these thoughts arise, they can no longer be suppressed.

"Prepare the carriage for the Chongzheng Hall!"

Zhao Zhen ordered, "I want to personally review the prisoners and examine the case files."

Inside the Chongzheng Hall, Zhao Zhen ordered someone to bring up the register, which recorded countless lives awaiting judgment.

That night, Chongzheng Hall was brightly lit.

Zhao Zhen carefully reviewed each name and case detail until late at night.

He paid special attention to prisoners who committed crimes due to special circumstances. In his view, behind every name was a vibrant life and a potentially broken family.

Pardoning them was the only thing Zhao Zhen wanted to do at that moment.

He picked up a vermilion brush, drew the names on the register, and then personally drafted the imperial edict.

“All death row inmates in the capital shall be reduced by one degree; those death row inmates whose circumstances are pitiful and whose reasons are excusable, as well as those sentenced to imprisonment or exile, shall be granted special release.”

He paused for a moment, then continued writing.

"I will also dispatch envoys to Daming Prefecture in Beijing, Henan Prefecture in Xijing, Yingtian Prefecture in Nanjing, and various prefectures and counties in the capital region to clear up backlogged cases, investigate the details of the cases, redress grievances, and demonstrate my compassion for the victims."

Despite his exhaustion, Zhao Zhen was wide awake after putting down his pen.

At this moment, Kaifeng, washed by the rain, gradually fell asleep in the cold night. Zhao Zhen stood alone in front of the palace gate, gazing at the night sky where the cold stars were as bright as ever, and silently prayed.

"May Heaven have mercy and grant me a prince, so that the Song Dynasty may continue to thrive forever."

Human joys and sorrows are different for everyone, but Lu Beigu has been very happy lately.

The next day, the morning sun shone through the clouds onto the still damp bluestone slabs, and the newly opened "Chengmingzhai" was already bustling with carriages and horses.

Thanks to the authoritative endorsement of the two prime ministers, Song Xiang and Fu Bi, many elderly nobles in Beijing are now extremely eager to get a pair of glasses to improve their blurry vision.

Moreover, since the person must come in person for an eye exam and to get their glasses fitted, no one else can do it for them.

Therefore, this scene exists.

To be honest, it scared Shen Kuo, Lu Beigu and others.

At this moment, an old man dressed in brocade robes was being helped down from the carriage by his servant. The plaque hanging above the shop in front of him still had the luster of new paint, and a faint scent of incense wafted from the shop.

He had just entered the room when he heard the sounds coming from inside.

"Please forgive me, today's eye exam schedule is already full."

Zhang Zai, dressed in a sky-blue robe, bowed to him.

Meanwhile, a Zhongshu Province official who had arrived long ago, was holding up his newly tried-on reading glasses and marveling at the various calligraphy works by Lu Beigu hanging on the wall of the shop, each with a different font size.

It wasn't that I was praising Lu Beigu's calligraphy skills, since his handwriting was only so-so, but rather that I was amazed that I could see it clearly even from a distance.

"This thing is truly miraculous! Even from several steps away, I can clearly see the characters as small as ants!"

Hearing the praise from the customer who had already received the glasses, the elderly man who had been refused was not angry at all, but rather happy.

He didn't care if he had to queue up again tomorrow morning, since he was already retired and couldn't sleep in the morning anyway. However, this product seemed to be effective, which made him very happy.

After busying himself for a while, Lu Beigu wiped his sweat and left "Chengmingzhai" to have lunch before heading to Song Xiang's residence.

Although the money that the Salt Iron Company gave them for "buying" hot air balloon technology has been almost spent on renting a shop and purchasing high-quality Donghai crystal, they are almost out of money.

But as it turns out, their decision was the right one.

Grinding glasses requires extremely high technical skills, and the principles behind it are impossible for outsiders to understand, making it a business with no exclusive rights.

Although the cost of glasses made from Donghai crystal is very high, there is an urgent need for them among many wealthy elderly people. Once the reputation is established, countless people will line up to give money to them.

Shen Kuo's workload was just a little bit heavier; with this kind of workload, his hands would probably be worn out.

Fortunately, Shen Kuo had already passed the provincial examination of the Ministry of Rites. Since he had no expectations for the ranking in the palace examination, it didn't matter whether he prepared or not. It would be great to use this time to make money.

After all, you need money to conduct scientific research effectively.

As Lu Beigu approached the roadside, he suddenly saw a staggering figure emerge from the street corner.

A tall man, dressed in tattered clothes with deep marks from shackles on his ankles, moved slowly, leaning against the wall. His tattered cloth shoes, soaked by the rain, left murky water stains on the bluestone slabs.

This man was nearly seven feet tall with a broad frame. Although he had lost a lot of muscle, he was still as frightening as a sick tiger.

Yellowstone?

"That should be the name," Lu Beigu called out if he wasn't mistaken.

Hearing someone call his name, Huang Shi looked up and was taken aback when he saw that it was Lu Beigu.

"Officer."

The man's voice was hoarse: "I have been pardoned. It is the Emperor's leniency in showing mercy."

Before he could finish speaking, he staggered and almost fell. Lu Beigu quickly supported him and then took him to a ba tuo shop on the street.

After finishing a bowl of hot mutton soup, the man's pale face regained some color, and he began to recount, in fits and starts, his experiences since they parted ways at the post station north of Luzhou.

When Lu Beigu heard Huang Shi say that he knocked out the guards while wearing heavy shackles, simply because he heard that one of his enemies was still alive and feared that he would take revenge on his family, so he returned to his hometown to eliminate him completely, and then surrendered himself to the authorities, Lu Beigu was speechless.

Huang Shi continued his story, saying that he had indeed resigned himself to death a few days ago, but fate is so cruel. With the emperor's decree of pardon, he was released directly from prison.

However, nobody cared where he went next.

The journey from Kaifeng to Jiaozhou was long, and he had no money. He was also exhausted and emaciated. How could he possibly go back? He had to save up enough money.

But he was unfamiliar with the place and didn't even have a "public certificate" on him. He had nowhere to stay, and once he left Kaifeng, he couldn't enter any city, pass, town, or ferry where people checked his identity.

Therefore, if he is unwilling to do anything illegal, he may only have the option of begging on the streets.

Just when Huang Shi was at his wit's end, he was picked up by Lu Beigu.

"It is both a favor from the government and a matter of fate that I would like to stay at our inn for the time being?"

Lu Beigu pointed to "Chengmingzhai" across the street and said, "I think you are a loyal and righteous man, and you would never do anything wrong. There are a lot of goods stored in the storeroom, and we need a reliable person to look after them."

Seeing the other person's stunned expression, he added, "The monthly salary is five strings of cash, and there's even room for a bed in the storeroom. If you work and save enough money to go back to your hometown, you're free to come and go as you please."

Huang Shi was speechless for a moment.

He staggered back half a step and was about to kneel before Lu Beigu when he was caught in time.

"Benefactor."

His voice was terribly hoarse, like a broken bellows: "My lowly life was first pardoned by the emperor, and then taken in by my benefactor."

At this point, the man, who had never flinched in the face of swords and spears, choked up and could not continue. He simply raised his hand and wiped his face hard, his knuckles still bearing the bruises left behind.

"Don't do that."

Lu Beigu simply felt that he was a loyal and righteous person, and now that he was desperate, there was nothing wrong with taking him in.

But he couldn't fully empathize with Huang Shi's way of thinking.

In Huang Shi's eyes, it was when he thought he was going to die that Lu Beigu, whom he met again by chance, agreed to a request that he didn't have to agree to. And now, in his most desperate moment, Lu Beigu promised him shelter from the wind and rain, as well as a job that would allow him to support himself.

This was an immense debt of gratitude to him.

“Since my benefactor has granted me a place to settle down and make a living, I will protect it with my life. Not a single brick or tile of the warehouse will be lost.”

Huang Shi spoke very slowly, each word seeming to be squeezed out from the depths of his heart.

"It's good that you've done your best."

Looking at him, Lu Beigu said, "Let's go to the hot spring in the back alley to wash up and change into some new clothes."

The other party was truly terrified and wanted to bow again.

Lu Beigu said gently, "Now that you're here, you're one of us. There's no need for formalities."

Huang Shi's eyes grew even redder.

(End of this chapter)