Zhao Xin now somewhat understood why many luxury brands from his previous life didn’t consider product lifespan.
Because truly wealthy people could easily avoid touching the ground.
As soon as he stepped off the sedan, Zhang Maoze picked him up, serving as a human mode of transportation.
Zhao Xin couldn’t help but think that if he hadn’t been moving his short little legs so quickly earlier, it would have been Consort Miao carrying him onto the sedan.
Ah, what a great loss.
He clung to Zhang Maoze’s neck, greedily watching the scenery on both sides gradually recede.
No wonder children loved being carried by adults—the elevated perspective was simply different.
Zhao Xin watched the numerous palace workers, like worker ants, laboring tirelessly to clear the accumulated snow, gradually revealing the original colors of the massive palace complex.
As the place where the emperor received external officials, the maintenance of Chuigong Hall was quite well done, allowing Zhao Xin to feast his eyes.
Red walls, blue tiles, and the pure white snow were truly a sight for sore eyes.
From this perspective, it made sense that the Song Dynasty could produce an emperor like Zhao Ji, whose artistic sensibilities were overly abundant.
But even the longest road has an end. When he could vaguely see the steps in front of Chuigong Hall, Zhao Xin nudged Zhang Maoze’s shoulder and said, “Eunuch Zhang, put me down.”
Zhang Maoze hurriedly replied, “Your Highness, you mustn’t. The road is slippery in the snow. Guanjia instructed this servant to ensure your safe delivery into the hall.”
As a trusted eunuch, he was acutely aware of how much importance Guanjia now placed on the Second Prince, his only son.
It was truly a case of fearing he would melt in the mouth or fly away if placed on the head. Even if the Second Prince now threw a tantrum and demanded the stars and the moon, Guanjia would immediately order someone to build a ladder.
If he were to fall, Zhang Maoze didn’t have enough heads to spare for compensation.
But Zhao Xin insisted, “The Grand Councilors assist Father in governing the realm. Their status surpasses all officials and ranks above that of imperial princes. I am now also an imperial prince. Though young, I dare not be disrespectful. Please, Eunuch Zhang, put me down.”
Even though Zhang Maoze had witnessed Zhao Xin’s precocious intelligence two days earlier while accompanying Zhao Zhen, hearing these words still sent a shiver through him.
Even a born sage might not surpass this.
He dared not argue further and carefully placed Zhao Xin on the ground, following closely behind the little figure who, from behind, resembled an emperor penguin.
The body Zhao Xin now inhabited was still far too young. What seemed like a short distance actually took nearly a quarter of an hour to traverse.
And after overcoming the numerous steps, he encountered a new obstacle.
Seriously? Weren’t they supposed to be impoverished and weak? Why make the threshold so high? It was tall enough to kill two Demon Hunters if they tripped.
But having drunk an entire river, how could one choke on the last mouthful?
Zhao Xin quickly resolved to forge a path through mountains, build bridges over rivers, and if there was a threshold—climb over it.
Zhang Maoze, who was about to call someone to lift the threshold: “…”
Alright then, as long as the Second Prince is happy.
Zhao Xin, having climbed over the threshold through his own efforts: Hehe.
Being surrounded by three long-bearded, purple-robed old men, especially with two of them having completely white beards: Not hehe.
Zhao Xin stole a glance at his father, seated solemnly in the main position, and realized he had messed up.
However, being the only biological son, he was bound to be favored. Zhao Zhen looked at Zhao Xin, whose eyes were darting around guiltily, and merely snorted softly to express his displeasure.
Then, he adopted a tone that Zhao Xin would always find awkward no matter how many times he heard it: “Zuixinglai is young and unruly, making a fool of himself in front of the three ministers.”
Zhao Xin was all too familiar with this tone. In his previous life, when visiting relatives, his mother would start off like this whenever she wanted to show off his exam results.
After that, it was usually followed by a talent performance, ending with something like, “It’s all because this child is willing to study. I just paid for his interest classes and didn’t really teach him much.”
It seemed that no matter their status, all parents shared the same mentality when it came to showing off their children.
Fortunately, Zhao Xin had already prepared himself mentally. Taking a deep breath, he glanced over the three old men dressed almost identically.
Then, he obediently bowed and saluted: “Youngster Zhao Xin greets the three ministers.”
All three rose and stepped aside, accepting only half of the courtesy, and said in unison, “Greetings, Second Prince.”
Although the position of prime minister was above that of a prince, Zhao Xin was, after all, the Guanjia’s only son at present.
But the old saying “courtesy costs nothing” certainly held true.
The youngest among the three men in purple robes stroked his beard and smiled: “The Second Prince is agile and robust, truly a blessing for our Great Song. I congratulate the Guanjia.”
Zhao Xin secretly curled his lip inwardly, thinking that scholars were always so cunning, their words more pleasing than songs.
Even something as basic as stepping over a threshold could earn praise—how ridiculous!
Little did he know how relieved the three prime ministers had felt upon seeing him effortlessly “conquer” the threshold.
Being able to jump and move around—that was truly wonderful!
It was worth noting that the late Emperor Zhenzong had fathered six princes in his lifetime, yet only the current Guanjia had survived and succeeded to the throne.
Moreover, the current Guanjia’s health was a cause for great concern. He had often been unwell since childhood and had a weakness for indulgence.
The lifespans of the previous few emperors had not been particularly long, and the current Guanjia seemed even more frail, as if determined to lower the average lifespan further…
And as for his indulgence, if it had at least produced a healthy and intelligent heir, everyone would have gritted their teeth and endured it.
A change in leadership was manageable.
But not only had there been no offspring for many years, when princes and princesses were finally born, they either died young or were intellectually impaired.
Counting them all, the only one who had essentially survived and thrived so far was Princess Fukang.
But she was a princess!
At best, her existence proved that the Guanjia was capable of fathering children.
Given the general consensus that the Guanjia’s lifespan would not be long, and for the sake of the nation’s stability and the continuation of their families’ prosperity, they had jointly denied the possibility of any future biological princes from the Guanjia.
Looking at the Later Han dynasty, it was clear that a nation relied on a mature ruler—a principle that made perfect sense.
Who would want to deal with another infant emperor or a young sovereign, with a regent empress dowager wielding power and even demanding to be buried in a dragon robe upon her death?
If the lineage truly ended, where would the ministers turn?
Otherwise, they wouldn’t have gone out of their way, despite the Guanjia’s strong displeasure, to submit memorials frantically urging the adoption of an heir.
Unexpectedly, the Second Prince, who had long been known for his intellectual impairment and even abandoned by the Guanjia himself, appeared at first glance to be quite capable!
Perhaps this adoption of an heir wasn’t absolutely necessary after all.
Watching the three chancellors, who usually paid little heed to his dignity, gaze intently at Zui Xinglai as if they had discovered some rare treasure, Zhao Zhen couldn’t help but chuckle with pride.
“Minister Yan, it would be better if you praised him less, lest his pride grows even higher.”
Zhao Xin understood now—the youngest-looking old man who had just praised him was Yan Shu.
Plain in appearance, yet distinguished by his refined and scholarly demeanor, his looks paled in comparison to the elegance of his poetry.
Everyone present was a seasoned fox, each with centuries of cunning. How could they fail to discern Zhao Zhen’s thinly veiled praise disguised as criticism, meant to shield the boy?
Zhao Xin felt the weight of the gazes upon him intensify.
Most of it emanated from the purple-robed man standing at the forefront, who also appeared the oldest.
Unwilling to be outdone, Zhao Xin met his gaze squarely.
Zhao Zhen knew that Yan Shu’s influence paled in comparison to the other two; at most, he could only offer peripheral support and cheer from the sidelines.
Thus, he quickly addressed Zhao Xin, “Zui Xinglai, this is the Grand Councilor, Lv Yijian.”
On the way here, Zhao Xin had used the System to look up Lv Yijian’s general biography.
He had even deduced a new pattern: the shorter the remaining lifespan of the person being researched, the lesser their impact on future history, and the fewer points required to access related information. This was inferred from the description that Lv Yijian would soon resign as chancellor and pass away the following year.
Successfully matching the man before him with the information, Zhao Xin’s eyes grew more solemn.
This sixty-five-year-old chancellor had served two reigns, and under his leadership, the Donglai Lv clan had reached its zenith, becoming one of the Song dynasty’s top aristocratic families.
To put it bluntly, his father, Zhao Zhen, had been elevated to the throne largely through this man’s efforts. Lv Yijian was now the very pillar of the Great Song dynasty, a steadfast support in times of turmoil.
Lv Yijian was already very old—his eyes were clouded, his voice hoarse, the wrinkles on his face deep enough to trap mosquitoes, and his entire being seemed like a flickering candle in the wind.
Yet the question he posed remained sharp, reminiscent of his bold retorts to Empress Dowager Liu in years past.
“This humble minister has heard rumors among the people that the Second Prince went to the Sage Ancestor’s abode and thus had to conceal his brilliance for two years. Is this true?”
Zhao Zhen felt his heart leap into his throat.
But Zhao Xin, ever filial, answered swiftly, leaving him little time to worry.
“Naturally, it is true.”
“Then, with all due respect, may this humble minister ask: What is the form and appearance of the Immortal Realm, and what wonders does it hold?”
Zhao Xin replied without hesitation, “In the Immortal Realm, flowers bloom in all seasons without withering, and evergreen grasses thrive throughout the year. Grains are as large as fruits; a single grain can sustain one for a month. Springs flow like honey; a single sip brings comfort to the entire body.
“There is an Immortal Artifact called the Communication Phantom Mirror, which allows one to see and hear across thousands of miles. There is a Savage Beast known as the Moving Carriage, capable of carrying eight hundred people a thousand miles in a single day. There is an Immortal Box that encompasses all things, omniscient and ready to answer any question when summoned. The elderly are cared for, the young are nurtured, goods are abundant, and the people prosper—truly a society of great harmony.”
Zhao Zhen was utterly captivated, and upon regaining his composure, he felt an itch in his hands.
What an unfilial son! When I asked you before, why did you just stuff pastries into your mouth?
Now you answer so readily!
Truly, a spanking is in order!
Lv Yijian’s hand, stroking his beard, remained still for a long while. Were it not for his faint breathing, Zhao Xin might have mistaken him for a statue.
This reaction was within Zhao Xin’s expectations.
After all, it is difficult for people to transcend their fixed perceptions.
Just as Zhao Xin had read in a science fiction novel in his previous life:
Any technology that existed when I was born is mundane and ordinary;
Any technology that emerges between my ages of 15 and 35 is a revolutionary product destined to change the world;
Any technology that appears after I turn 35 is an abomination against the natural order, deserving divine retribution.
Zhao Xin’s punch carried a thousand years of power—no one could withstand it.
After a long pause, Lv Yijian bowed slightly to Zhao Zhen and said, “Congratulations, Guanjia. The Great Song now has a worthy successor.”
Zhao Zhen’s smile widened. With those words, the matter was settled.
But Zhang Dexiang, who had remained largely unnoticed until now, suddenly stepped forward and asked Zhao Xin, “This humble minister dares to ask Your Highness the Second Prince, what did you do while residing in the Immortal Realm? Did the Sacred Ancestor teach you the classics of the sages?”
Zhao Xin raised an eyebrow slightly. Well, well—who would have thought this one was a pure Confucian scholar-official?
He replied even more casually, “I never studied them.”
Zhao Zhen now genuinely felt like disciplining the child. Why, knowing full well the traditions of this dynasty, did he insist on opposing them?
These scholar-officials, once they latch on, are hard to shake off.
Sure enough, Zhang Dexiang frowned and asked, “Your Highness, as a prince, how can you not study the words of the sages? How will you govern and manage the people in the future?”
He then turned to Zhao Zhen and said, “I implore Your Majesty to allow Prince Yu to begin his formal studies, learning the poetry and classics of the sages to prepare for the future.”
Zhao Xin was growing irritable.
Given his current status, it was inevitable that he would eventually begin his formal studies—it was only a matter of timing.
But this old man’s proposal at this moment was certainly not made with good intentions.
Just two days earlier, Zhao Zhen had mentioned in a casual conversation that now that the war with Western Xia had somewhat stabilized, he planned to recall Fan Zhongyan to the capital to implement reforms.
If Zhao Xin were to begin his studies now, not only would the selection of his tutor be enough to stir up fierce disputes among the outer court, but he would also likely be tied to the reform agenda with no way out.
Zhao Xin’s life principle was this: he would fulfill his obligations within their scope, but he must arrange the pace himself.
If anyone tried to force him, they shouldn’t blame him for going all out.
Zhao Zhen, on the other hand, was in a difficult position. He and Zhao Xin were thinking along the same lines, but Zhang Dexiang’s request was entirely reasonable.
Zhao Xin spoke up, “Father, I do not wish to begin my formal studies at this time.”
Zhang Dexiang adopted a stern expression and spoke earnestly, “Your Highness bears the hopes of the realm. You cannot behave like an ordinary child from the common folk, thinking only of play. With such exceptional talent, you must make good use of it.”
“I have said I do not wish to begin my formal studies now,” Zhao Xin emphasized, cutting off Zhang Dexiang directly. “The Sacred Ancestor told me that understanding worldly affairs is true learning, and mastering human relations is genuine literature. That is why he commanded me to return—to experience these worldly affairs and human relations.”
“As for these formal studies, let me ask Minister Zhang: what is their purpose?”
“To understand principles, naturally.”
“And after understanding principles?”
“To cultivate a heart of benevolence and love.”
“And after that?”
“To care for the people and rule the realm as a king.”
Having drawn out the answer he wanted, Zhao Xin abruptly tightened the noose: “In the world today, the only one worthy of the phrase ‘rule the realm as a king’ is my father. So, I can simply learn from him.”
“Why should I trouble myself to study under Confucian scholars who have spent their lives buried in books but lack practical experience? Wouldn’t that be like climbing a tree to catch fish or ascending a mountain to gather pearls?”
“Does Minister Zhang perhaps wish for me to become a scholar specializing in the classics? Or do you think my father has not governed the realm well and lacks the ability to teach me?”
Zhang Dexiang had no idea Zhao Xin’s rhetoric was so sharp. One misstep, and he would be doomed.
He could only repeatedly claim he had no such intention, and naturally it was most appropriate for the Guanjia to personally teach his son.
Zhang Dexiang withdrew his forces, but Zhao Zhen was greatly excited by his son’s flattery.
As a father, nothing brings more joy than being idolized by one’s son.
Moreover, from childhood to adulthood, he had rarely managed to refute these prime ministers, always finding himself in a dilemma.
But his son was truly remarkable! He would make time to pay respects to the ancestors at the ancestral temple! With a son like this, what more could a father ask for?
Zhao Xin even chased after them to add another jab: “All three of you, esteemed ministers, are crucial aides in assisting my father in governing the realm. If the realm is not at peace, you bear at least a third of the blame!”
After the three prime ministers left Chuigong Hall, Lv Yijian said to Zhang Dexiang, “Xiyan, you went too far today. The Second Prince is still young.”
He should not have been dragged into the reform debate.
Yet Zhang Dexiang laughed heartily, his face full of wrinkles spreading out like a chrysanthemum blooming in water.
“Tanfu, Tongshu, do you have time today to gather at my residence?”
Yan Shu, who had been acting as a background figure, asked, “Does Brother Xiyan have official matters to discuss?”
Zhang Dexiang shook his head: “No official matters, but I have a great joy I wish to share with both of you.”
Yan Shu continued, “What kind of great joy could make you so delighted, Brother Xiyan?”
“Naturally, it is the joy that our Great Song has gained a wise and decisive ruler!”