Although Zhao Xin’s eloquence was remarkable, achieving the feat of refuting the Grand Councilors—something his father Zhao Zhen had never accomplished and likely never would—studying was still unavoidable. It had to be done, no excuses.
Fortunately, Zhao Zhen had already accepted that Zhao Xin possessed heaven-granted talents, which could not be measured by ordinary standards or taught through conventional methods. After in-depth discussions with Yan Shu, a widely acclaimed child prodigy, Zhao Zhen decisively brought Zhao Xin to the Rear Hall of Jiying.
Here stood three imperial libraries: Tianzhang Pavilion, Baowen Pavilion, and Longtu Pavilion, likely the most book-rich places in the world at the time.
Indeed, Zhao Zhen had set no specific learning goals for Zhao Xin at this stage. He was waiting for Zhao Xin to absorb enough knowledge and reveal his inclinations, after which he would mobilize all resources to rapidly nurture those inclinations to fruition.
As expected, Zhao Xin showed immense interest in these three places. His eyes sparkled brightly as they scanned the rows of bookshelves, a sight so delightful that even unrelated onlookers would find it heartwarming.
Human children are always adept at evoking protective instincts in adults.
Zhao Zhen smiled and patted Zhao Xin’s little head affectionately, asking, “Are you really this happy?”
Zhao Xin nodded repeatedly, distractedly mumbling a few affirmations, as if already dazzled and too preoccupied to engage with him.
The largest library in the nation, and perhaps the world, was private—and it belonged to his own family! He could read whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted!
This realization left Zhao Xin dizzy, making him feel the tangible reality of his identity more keenly. No wonder everyone wanted to be emperor. With such vast family assets and supreme power, anyone would be overwhelmed.
Zhao Zhen understood that his son was still young and not yet skilled at hiding his emotions. However, such unbridled glee was hardly fitting for a prince—especially one he had already designated as the crown prince. How could he appear so unsophisticated?
Thus, he asked Zhao Xin, “Tell me, Zui Xinglai, what do you plan to read first?”
Without hesitation, Zhao Xin replied, “Maps. I want maps—whether from our dynasty or previous ones, I want them all!”
This choice genuinely surprised Zhao Zhen, who had expected him to start with historical records. “Why maps first?” he inquired.
If he couldn’t predict a genius’s choices, understanding the genius’s thought process might prove useful in the future.
Zhao Xin answered casually, “Since you intend to teach me the art of ruling the realm, I should first understand the extent of our Great Song’s territory and the specific produce of each region. I don’t want to make a fool of myself by confusing northern rice with southern wheat and embarrassing you in the process.”
After that, Zhao Xin fell silent, lifting his head to cast a cool, meaningful glance at Zhao Zhen—a look laden with unspoken implications.
Yet Zhao Zhen instantly grasped the message. With a swift wave of his hand, he scolded, “You little rascal, how dare you mock your own father?!”
Was it his fault that external threats surrounded them, preventing a grand unification like the Han and Tang dynasties? When this legacy was passed down to him, it was already limited in scope. With only average abilities, he had toiled diligently and cautiously for years, and avoiding major disasters was no small achievement!
However, Zhao Zhen did not spank Zhao Xin’s springy little bottom, as the boy had wisely jumped out of reach beforehand.
Still shouting as he ran: “Father, a ruler should be broad-minded. You must know that honest advice, though unpleasant to the ear, benefits conduct. Moreover, observing words and accepting remonstrance is a fine reputation.”
Zhao Zhen watched his son, who had already run far away yet was still spouting eloquent arguments, standing there fuming.
It is the duty of censors to offer remonstrance, but you, you little rascal, are simply mocking your father! How can the two be compared?
However, having already experienced his son’s sharp tongue, he had no desire to waste energy on a debate he was bound to lose.
You can run for a while, but can you run forever?
You can hide from him, but can you hide from Consort Miao?
When the time comes, he would have Consort Miao hold down this little troublemaker, pull down his pants, and give him a good spanking!
His courage was truly growing bolder by the day.
Precocious, are you? Clever, are you? A genius, are you? If you’re so capable, don’t cry out loud when you get spanked.
As for a reason—what reason? A father beating his son never needs a reason!
Zhang Maoze, who witnessed the entire scene, now wished he could embed his eyeballs into the cracks of the floor tiles beneath his feet.
The relationship between this father and son was becoming increasingly incomprehensible to him, and he no longer wished to observe it further.
There cannot be two suns in the sky, nor two rulers in a nation.
Now, with two suns appearing side by side before him, he did not know whether it was a blessing or a curse…
But it was clear that Zhao Zhen and Zhao Xin, this father and son, had already reached an understanding.
They only needed to interact as they pleased, while the problems others had to consider multiplied—none of which had anything to do with them!
If anyone thought otherwise, they would be accused of sowing discord between the imperial father and son and summarily exiled to the remote, miasma-ridden borderlands.
Although Zhao Zhen had already planned how to spank his son, when Zhao Xin spread out the maps of the Tang Dynasty and the present day for comparison, he quietly stood by and watched.
However, as Zhao Xin remained silent, Zhao Zhen’s patience gradually wore thin.
Finally unable to hold back, he asked, “Zuixinglai, have you noticed anything?”
The Sacred Ancestor was revered among the people as a general. Even if he didn’t teach Zuixinglai the classics and principles, he must have taught him military strategy and tactics.
He was still counting on his son.
To his surprise, Zhao Xin simply plopped down on the map, propped his chin with his small hand, and let out a melancholy sigh.
When Zhao Zhen pressed further, Zhao Xin gave him an even more weary look, appearing even more unwilling to speak.
Zhao Zhen understood. He gestured behind him, and a plate of pastries was relayed by the palace attendants until it was finally pushed in front of Zhao Xin by Zhao Zhen.
Zhao Xin unceremoniously enjoyed his father’s service and casually instructed, “The yellow bean cakes taste quite good. Let me take a plate back later for my sister and eldest sister to try as well.”
When one eats another’s food, one’s words grow soft; when one takes another’s gifts, one’s hands grow weak. After this round of eating and taking, Zhao Xin could no longer maintain the aloof demeanor of a recluse.
However, the weight of the problem he raised was so heavy that it nearly crashed Zhao Zhen’s mind.
“Father, our dynasty’s Taizu inherited the lands of Zhou, conquered Chu, defeated Han, destroyed Tang, and pacified Shu—truly a hero. But comparing the maps of the two dynasties, it is merely a case of Jiedushi fighting among themselves.”
Upon hearing this, Zhao Zhen covered Zhao Xin’s mouth, then turned his gaze to Zhang Maoze with an exceptionally rare coldness, enunciating each word: “If even half a word of what I and Prince Yu have said today leaks out, all of you will find yourselves in the Imperial City Surveillance Agency.”
After warning the eunuchs, Zhao Zhen’s gaze toward his son grew even gentler.
If he could realize this, there was no need to worry about him being unable to hold the position of Guanjia in the future.
Zhao Zhen was concerned that extreme intelligence might lead to harm and that a young age was unsuitable for sudden elevation to high positions; otherwise, he would already be preparing the ceremony to crown the crown prince.
However, this did not stop him from once again acting contrary to Zhao Xin’s expectations.
Zhao Xin said, “The present-day Liao was the Songmo Chief Commandery of the Tang dynasty, and Xia is the Jiedushi of the Dingnan Army.
“I wonder which dynasty later historians will recognize as the Orthodox Calendar?”
Zhao Zhen very much wanted to say it would naturally be their own dynasty, as in the Tanyuan Alliance, their dynasty was the elder brother state.
He even wanted to slap Zhao Xin directly—couldn’t this kid hope for something better? Instead of thinking about the dynasty’s downfall, why not imagine future descendants subduing both Liao and Xia?
But he knew this was just self-deception.
There had never been a dynasty that lasted a hundred generations without falling. As for subduing Xia and Liao, he couldn’t manage it now, and future descendants would only find it harder…
Everyone was a Jiedushi of the Great Tang, and they all had equal rights to inherit the legitimacy left behind by the Tang.
The thought that future generations might refer to the three states together made Zhao Zhen deeply understand why his son was so troubled.
Such matters of legitimacy might seem insignificant when unweighed, but once weighed, even a thousand pounds wouldn’t be enough.
After restarting his brain, Zhao Zhen was also drawn into melancholy.
His future reputation in the history books…
He, as the ruler and father, was too incompetent, having to let his young son worry about such matters.
But remembering his son’s heaven-sent talent, Zhao Zhen felt emboldened again. He eagerly asked, “Is there a solution?”
Having finished his snacks, Zhao Xin clapped his hands, stood up in one swift motion, and placed his small hands behind his back, answering evasively: “I’ve heard that reading history brings wisdom. Find me the history books of the Han and Tang dynasties to take back and read.”
Well, this was another diversion to who knows where.
Zhao Zhen was truly angered this time.
You started the topic, I took it seriously, and now you’re telling me, “What’s done is done, let’s eat first”?!
“Father!” Zhao Xin straightened his expression, shook his sleeves, and waved his tiny fists in front of him, complaining, “I’m still young.
“Moreover, military affairs are matters of state, involving life and death, and must be carefully considered. Even if we set aside the issues of redundant soldiers, expenses, and officials, our dynasty is plagued by countless old ailments and lacks capable generals abroad. How can we act rashly?
“The Sage Ancestor said, ‘Slow and steady wins the race; haste makes waste.’ The advantage is ours now, and a gradual approach is the best strategy. Why must you rush, Father?
“As for solutions, you must let me study the wisdom of past sages and think carefully. Wait until I grow up, and I’ll become a great general, subdue all these barbarians who defy our rule, and incorporate them into the territory of our Great Song.”
Zhao Zhen felt ashamed at his son’s words—his patience couldn’t even match that of his six-year-old son.
It must be because Fan Zhongyan had been pressuring him lately!
As for Zhao Xin’s request to become a great general and go to war, he didn’t take it seriously at all.
What a joke—since when does a crown prince lead troops into battle?
But another thought suddenly crossed his mind: Zui Xinglai was so clever and decisive; perhaps he could be consulted on the New Policies.
He had heard about Zhang Dexiang getting thoroughly drunk at home a few days ago.
The court officials now held Zui Xinglai in high regard.
Though he was reluctant to admit it, Zui Xinglai currently had more influence among the court officials than he did.
However, Zhao Zhen also knew that there were many people around, and with Zui Xinglai being quite strong-willed, he might not obediently comply. So he temporarily set the matter aside, maintaining his doting demeanor: “Very well, take your time to think it over. Is there anything else you need?”
To Zhao Xin, that last question was a clear hint.
Zhao Xin immediately opened up: “I want a teacher. Although I am clever, some texts are truly convoluted and obscure, while others have been passed down for so long that their true meaning is hard to discern. Studying alone can lead to confusion.”
Finally having anticipated his son’s thoughts, Zhao Zhen revealed a smug smile: “Don’t worry, I have already promoted Song Qi to Academician of the Longtu Pavilion. Once he returns to the capital, he will guide your studies.”
Zhao Xin’s eyes lit up again: “Is that the Little Song Zhuangyuan?”
“You know about him too?”
“Your son originally didn’t, but yesterday, when I went to Her Majesty’s palace for snacks, she told me stories from the past.”
That was an old tale from the Tiansheng era, when Song Qi and his elder brother Song Xiang both passed the imperial examinations. The examiners initially ranked Song Qi first and Song Xiang third.
However, after the results were submitted, Empress Dowager Zhangxian Liu E, who was overseeing the court at the time, felt it was improper for the younger brother to outrank the elder. Thus, she changed the ranking, making Song Xiang the top Zhuangyuan and demoting Song Qi to tenth place.
Yet both the court and the common people knew that Song Qi truly possessed the talent of a Zhuangyuan, so they nicknamed him the “Little Song Zhuangyuan.”
Later, Zhao Xin curiously used the System to look him up.
And what do you know—another hidden master was uncovered. This man would later write the line “Red apricot branches stir with spring’s lively air,” securing his place in the must-memorize classical poetry collection and earning the nickname “Red Apricot Minister.”
He also co-compiled the New Book of Tang with Ouyang Xiu.
The roster of figures in the Great Song Dynasty is so rich that even a casual glance reveals more than many dynasties could boast in their entirety…
Seeing his son so obedient, Zhao Zhen felt much more at ease, but he still cautioned: “Scholar Song is a man of pure integrity. You must not argue with him.”
Zhao Xin nodded obediently. Understood—an academic giant, but not particularly strong in politics.
But the more Zhao Zhen pondered, the more uneasy he grew. He tentatively asked, “Should I find you two more Readers-in-Waiting?”
Zhao Xin immediately shook his head like a rattle drum: “No, no.” Then, putting on a pleading expression, he said, “Father, please have mercy on Zui Xinglai. Although truth becomes clearer through debate, it’s truly exhausting.”
Who in their right mind wakes up every day ready for a debate? Especially in the Great Song Dynasty, where critics are as numerous as mushrooms and their combat prowess is formidable.
Zhao Zhen understood perfectly.
He could always add more Readers-in-Waiting to intensify the pressure when this rascal started causing trouble.
In high spirits, Zhao Zhen continued his generous offers: “Any other requests? Speak now, or you’ll miss your chance.”
“Then, Father, please select a few Imperial Study Companions around my age.”
Zhao Zhen found it odd: “Who could possibly be as clever as you?”
Zhao Xin shook his head: “Not so, not so. As the saying goes, ‘Listening to one side leads to darkness; listening to both sides brings clarity.’ Even the wisest person may overlook something. Your son also needs more perspectives to examine issues and have others fill in the gaps.”
Zhao Zhen: Serious.
Zui Xinglai, your father is pleased that you can think so deeply, but you’ve taken all your father’s lines, and your father is not happy.
Zhao Zhen arbitrarily raised the difficulty of the question: “Then what kind of Imperial Study Companions does Zui Xinglai want?”
Zhao Xin immediately replied, “Two descendants of civil officials, two descendants of military generals, plus two sons of Imperial Consort Kin and two sons of the imperial clan. I’m not picky about the Imperial Consort Kin sons—whoever you’re willing to give me, Father, is fine. For the imperial clan sons, I only want descendants of the Prince of Qin.”
The so-called Prince of Qin refers to Zhao Guangmei, the younger brother of Taizu and Taizong.
Zhao Zhen suddenly felt he could consider selecting another group of beauties to enter the palace.
Zui Xinglai was being far too comprehensive.
In another ten or eight years, when he held the grand wedding for Zui Xinglai, he could rest easy and enjoy his later years as an ordinary old man, doting on his grandchildren.
But Zhao Xin immediately shattered his retirement dream with a single sentence.
Zhao Zhen nearly jumped up in the literal sense: “Zui Xinglai, what did you say? Say it again?”
Zhao Xin matched his intensity without backing down: “I said I want to go out of the palace and take a look.”