When good fortune arrives, spirits rise—and Zhao Zhen was no exception.
To celebrate his only son’s recovery from foolishness, Zhao Zhen was lavishly scattering wealth.
The imperial physician who came to examine Zhao Zhen merely offered a few flattering words and received a generous reward of one hundred bolts of silk.
Empress Cao, who oversaw the inner palace, received three hundred bolts. Consort Miao, as Zhao Xin’s birth mother and for her diligent care, was granted two hundred. Even the young Huirou received fifty bolts.
As for the accompanying palace attendants, they were also rewarded according to their ranks, with three to ten bolts of silk each.
In short, by borrowing the story of being personally taught by the Sacred Ancestor, Zhao Xin had largely washed away the label of foolishness from himself. Zhao Zhen felt he had regained a true son, while the consorts and palace attendants received their rewards.
A triple victory—truly, it was like the First Emperor of Qin touching an electric wire: a shocking win.
As the one who set everything in motion, Zhao Xin calmly observed from the sidelines. Even the most important matters had to wait until his father finished scattering wealth, especially since his mother and sister were also benefiting.
Yet Zhao Zhen still felt it wasn’t enough. Although he had lost a son today, it was expected.
Grief that lasts too long loses its sting.
But this clever son, Zuixinglai, had descended upon him without warning, overwhelming him with immense joy.
In their brief conversation, he could sense that Zuixinglai’s logic and thinking far surpassed those of his peers.
Truly, this was a child sent by the immortals, favored by the Sacred Ancestor, and personally taken to the heavens for two years of nurturing.
Even the child prodigies recorded in history, such as Kong Rong and Cao Chong, likely weren’t as clever as his Zuixinglai.
With Zuixinglai here, which minister in the outer court would dare mention selecting an imperial clansman to be raised in the palace or inheriting the throne?
Just as Zhao Zhen was too excited to sit still, he saw Zhao Xin—whom he cherished like the apple of his eye—slowly slide down from Consort Miao’s embrace.
His dark, ink-like eyes held a serious expression as he looked at him.
Zhao Zhen had already begun to accept his son’s uniqueness, viewing him as someone with whom he could discuss serious matters.
So he bent down to meet Zhao Xin’s gaze and asked gently, “Zuixinglai, is there something else?”
Zhao Xin maintained his persona, speaking succinctly, “Father, Third Brother…” Then he pursed his lips, feigning hesitation.
Zhao Zhen instantly understood his meaning.
As the ruler of the realm, he possessed the greatest power but also the most constraints.
Otherwise, no one could predict the destruction the monster named desire might wreak if left unchecked.
Moreover, as the Son of Heaven, he naturally should embody half-divine nature. Thus, when a son died, Zhao Zhen could not grieve too deeply. When a son “returned to life,” Zhao Zhen could not rejoice too openly.
Today, Zhao Zhen’s sorrow and joy had both exceeded moderation. Even if history didn’t record it, the ministers in the outer court would surely clamor.
Once again, Zhao Zhen was astonished.
Zhao Xin was not only reminding him but also demonstrating his filial piety and fraternal love—a dutiful son and a caring brother.
Now, Zhao Zhen grew even more concerned for this son, wishing Zhao Xin could remain as dull and unresponsive as before.
Extreme intelligence invites harm. With Zuixinglai so exceptionally clever, it was hard not to worry he might follow in Cao Chong’s tragic footsteps.
He even felt a faint resentment toward his deceased son, Zhao Xi, in his heart.
Why disturb Zuixinglai over the matter of mourning without a crown? Why not let Zuixinglai continue studying diligently under the Sacred Ancestor, returning to the mortal world only when grown, ready to shoulder the immense burden of the realm from his hands?
Zhao Xin seemed to know what he was thinking and said with a smile, “This matter has nothing to do with Third Brother. The Sacred Ancestor had long since ordered me to return, saying that after all, the two realms are different, and staying too long would not be good for me.
“It’s just that I was young and playful, so I insisted on staying a while longer. The Sacred Ancestor had no choice but to send Third Brother to find me, which also preserved the affection between us brothers.”
Listening to the quick and crisp voice of the child, Zhao Zhen felt immensely comforted.
This son of his knew how to speak. No one knew what happened in the heavens, but Zuixinglai’s words took care of every aspect.
At the same time, he also believed that the Sacred Ancestor had considered everything thoroughly. Immortals and mortals are different, and Zuixinglai would one day inherit the throne. It would indeed be unacceptable for him to remain in the celestial realm without understanding mortal affairs.
The more he looked at Zhao Xin, the more pleasing he found him, feeling that every aspect of his appearance resembled his own, with nothing lacking.
Truly worthy of being his son.
It was just that the way Zhao Xin stared straight at him always made him feel that this kid was hiding something big.
Zhao Zhen was a young emperor, and his father was only a vague impression to him.
Without a reference point, he had to learn everything through stumbling and trial. The experience he had accumulated was clearly insufficient to deal with a genius son like Zhao Xin.
In this father-son confrontation, it was ultimately Zhao Zhen, with his deep love for his son, who lost. He rubbed Zhao Xin’s little head and asked helplessly, “Go on, what else is there?”
Zhao Xin revealed a triumphant smile, then composed himself and performed a not entirely proper bow to Zhao Zhen with great seriousness: “Your subject wishes to see Third Brother.”
“No!”
“No!”
Two voices of opposition rang out almost simultaneously.
The first was from Consort Miao, and the latter was from Zhao Zhen.
After Consort Miao blurted out her words, she knew she had overstepped and could only stand awkwardly to the side. However, the look she gave Zhao Xin was clearly a warning that if he disobeyed, his backside would suffer.
Zhao Xin was not afraid. His mother was only fierce with her words; at most, she would give him a few slaps.
Now that it was winter and he was wearing thick clothes, it definitely wouldn’t hurt.
Besides, what did it matter to endure a beating to achieve his goal?
Zhao Zhen, on the other hand, felt he had grasped a bit of his son’s temperament.
Extremely independent and never one to do useless work.
Since Zhao Xin had referred to himself as “your subject,” Zhao Zhen also adopted the attitude of dealing with a subject. He turned around, took his seat, and said to Zhao Xin with great seriousness, “Why do you want to go? Do you know that you are still young and should not go to the mourning hall?”
If it were an elder, it would be understandable, as filial piety comes first. But this was a peer, and a young one at that, so there was no need at all.
What if he encountered something unclean? There would be no place to buy regret medicine.
Zhao Xin also answered with great seriousness: “Your subject has heard that keeping one’s word is a matter of trust. A person without trust cannot stand. Your subject has already promised Third Brother and does not wish to become someone who breaks their word.
“Moreover, Third Brother and your subject are brothers. Our imperial family sets an example of loyalty, filial piety, and brotherly love for the world. How could there be any harm to your subject?”
The next day, before the sun appeared on the horizon, amid the steam rising from the steamers of the gourd soup shops and the condensed morning mist, citizens occasionally emerged from their homes. With their hands tucked into their sleeves, they quickly ducked into various breakfast shops along the street.
Some ordered a simple bowl of porridge with a cup of soybean milk, while others slapped down a string of coins for a luxurious set meal of stuffed lung, sheep’s head, and soup noodles, continuing the liveliness of the night market and banishing the silence.
The Song Dynasty was commercially prosperous, and Dongjing City, as the residence of the emperor, also had the largest petty bourgeois class in the world at that time.
These people had both money and leisure, and their favorite pastime was finding ways to entertain themselves.
And today was undoubtedly their day of revelry.
The reach of breakfast shops was limited; aside from the famous large establishments known throughout all of Dongjing City, most relied on regular customers for business.
Wang San, the owner of Wang’s Gourd Soup Shop, was rather bewildered today. How was it that in just one day, the catchphrases of these regular patrons had uniformly shifted from “Have you eaten yet?” and “What’ll it be today?” or “Shall we share a table, brother?” to “Have you heard?”
If the other person answered that they had, they would naturally gather together and begin whispering and exchanging information, occasionally slapping the table in admiration.
If the other person answered that they hadn’t, they would be drawn into the discussion out of curiosity, sometimes pointing skyward with their fingers, displaying expressions of utter astonishment.
It was clear at a glance that something extraordinary had happened.
In short, the atmosphere in the entire breakfast shop was quite unusual, and anyone with eyes could see that astonishing news was being gathered and exchanged.
The Great Song Dynasty did not punish people for their words, but Wang San was so agitated by the mysterious and secretive demeanor of these customers that he felt as if a hundred claws were scratching at his heart.
Finally unable to restrain himself, he seized a lull in the activity, handed over the work to his apprentice, and with a sheepish expression, approached a table of scholars who had ordered relatively little. Rubbing his hands together, he got straight to the point: “Gentlemen, if I may trouble you to ask, what exactly are you all discussing? Could this old man also have a listen?”
A scholar in a water-blue robe exclaimed in surprise, “What? How is it that you, elder, do not know of such a major event?!”
Wang San replied apologetically, “My family depends entirely on this shop to make a living. Yesterday, after preparing the ingredients, I went to bed early, so I truly have no idea what happened. If you gentlemen would be willing to tell me, this meal will be on the house.”
It wasn’t exactly a secret; sooner or later, everyone in Dongjing City would know. Besides, they could get a free meal out of it.
Living in Dongjing was no easy feat. The scholars immediately recounted in detail the palace secrets they had heard, concluding with praise: “I have heard it said that keeping one’s word is a matter of trust. A person without trust cannot stand. Truly, Heaven blesses our Great Song—the Second Prince has actually recovered!”
Wang San, however, felt as if his brain had turned thicker than the batter he personally made, and he stood there dumbfounded.
He didn’t understand any of it—the Sacred Ancestor receiving divine nurture in the heavens, the talent of a prodigy, the makings of a wise ruler.
He only grasped one thing: the foolish and dull-witted Second Prince in the palace had recovered!
Upon realizing this, he immediately felt a sharp pain in his internal organs.
The reason was simple: not long ago, he had participated in a betting pool, wagering on whether, after the Third Prince’s passing, the Guanjia would bring the Thirteenth General back to the palace to raise him or appoint another heir.
The so-called Thirteenth General referred to Zhao Zongshi, the thirteenth son of the current Prince of Pu, Zhao Yunrang.
Because the current Guanjia had no sons in his early years and was in poor health, he was persuaded by court officials to bring his nephew Zhao Zongshi into the palace to raise him. Though he had the status of an heir, he was later enfeoffed as General of the Right Yulin Guard, and everyone referred to him as the Thirteenth General.
Wang San had bet a full string of cash, wagering that the Guanjia would either bring back the Thirteenth General or appoint another heir.
After all, the current Guanjia was not a decisive person and had always been very accommodating toward outer court officials.
But now it was all ruined. Between a biological son and an adopted heir, anyone would choose the biological son without a second thought.
That was a full string of cash! Half a month’s profit was only that much, and that was when business was good!
Wang San still wanted to struggle a bit, weakly raising questions and doubting the truth of the news.
However, those who study literature naturally possess a certain degree of pride. Several scholars immediately chimed in, saying, “If you don’t believe us, by noon at the latest, internal investigators will print the news into small-print newsletters for sale. For just one coin, you’ll know whether what we say is true or false.”
Another followed up, “If you still don’t believe it, in a few days, the court gazette will naturally publish it.”
How much the current Guanjia values his son is known to everyone in Dongjing City.
If such an event were not widely announced, that would truly be like the sun rising from the west.
Yet another tapped a folding fan against his palm, shaking his head and swaying as he said, “Not so, not so. There’s no need to buy the news. Our Guanjia is certain to grant a general amnesty today.”
With rumors spreading like wildfire among the people, it was naturally even harder to keep such matters hidden from high-ranking officials at the level of prime minister.