Chapter 155: Terms of Peace

Nie Huaishang, you’re going too far—right before me, a minister of Song, you bring up how Emperor Taizong favored Xiao Zhouhou and the humiliations of the Jingkang Incident.

But when you’re under someone else’s roof, you must bow your head; he was here to negotiate terms, and he couldn’t afford to anger these revolutionaries.

“I admit your troops are formidable, stronger than even the old Liao and Jin, but Great Khan, don’t forget—the Jin was destroyed by the forces led by Zhang Chu’an. There can be only one master of this realm. If your Mongols won’t tolerate Song, then will Zhang Chu’an’s forces tolerate you?”

Wang Nan asked calmly.

Hearing this, Nie Huaishang burst out laughing and asked, “My dear Lord Wang, Lord Wang the Great—is it possible? Is it possible that we, like the people of central China, are also revolutionaries?”

At these words, Wang Nan was stunned as if struck by lightning and hurriedly replied, “Impossible! This is impossible! Your two regimes’ armies are entirely different—you built your own forces. How could you possibly submit to another?”

“Nothing is impossible, for we are not the petty men who abandon the people in their scramble for power.” A voice entered from outside the hall.

Wang Nan looked up and saw Zhang Xiaofan and Zhang Chu’an enter with an unfamiliar youth. The boy walked with strong, agile steps, as if a dragon glided through shallow waters, a tiger prowled with wind at his heels. His posture stood straight as a pine, like an unyielding green pine, firm and upright. His face bore a touch of simple innocence, like uncarved jade—unadorned, natural, evoking instant warmth and familiarity.

Yet the faint, effortless aura of dominance radiating from him was like a tiger lurking in a deep abyss—daring no one to move a muscle. This dominance was not forced; it arose naturally from within, inspiring awe.

Wang Nan hesitated and asked, “Esteemed Standing Committee members, who is this…?”

“Oh, let me properly introduce you—this is one of our Four Military Standing Committee members, Chairman of the Revolutionary Army Military Committee, and first General Secretary of the Huaxia People’s Government: Guo Jing.” After Zhang Chu’an finished, Guo Jing immediately turned to him.

Before negotiating with the revolutionaries, Wang Nan had studied their political system and knew that “General Secretary” meant the top leader of any department—the General Secretary of the People’s Government was the top leader of the entire government.

Hearing this man was the revolutionaries’ top leader, Wang Nan quickly bowed: “Your humble servant Wang Nan pays homage to General Secretary.”

“No need to bow—I’m just a commoner and don’t deserve your reverence. There’s no point discussing peace. We have nothing to discuss with you. Unifying Huaxia is inevitable. In the past, Emperor Taizong of Song launched a northern campaign and was crushed by the Liao army; he escaped on a donkey cart, earning the nickname ‘Lord of the Gaoliang River Cart.’ Since then, whether Song was even the legitimate heir of Huaxia is debatable.”

“After Jingkang, traitors like Qin Gui proposed ‘Southerners return south, Northerners return north.’ I hear your new regime under Shi Miyuan and Empress Yang has restored Qin Gui’s posthumous title of Prince Shen, is that right?”

Guo Jing fixed Wang Dan with a cold, piercing gaze—sharp as a blade, stabbing straight into the soul. Under his stare, Wang Dan felt an inexplicable terror rise within him. He dared not meet Guo Jing’s eyes and lowered his head, fleeing from that knife-like, sword-like glare.

“This… when the Jin invaded, we had no choice but to seek peace with them. We never wanted this!” Wang Nan hastily explained.

“Enough. I don’t want to hear your excuses, Lord Wang. Do you know why a Song man like me ended up in Mongolia?” Guo Jing’s unexpected question left Wang Nan stunned.

“Your humble servant does not know. Please, General Secretary, enlighten me,” Wang Nan asked respectfully.

“About ten years ago, my father was a simple hunter in Niujia Village near Lin’an. One day, the Jin’s Sixth Prince lusted after my Uncle Yang’s wife and colluded with the corrupt official Duan Tiande to hunt us down. My father died. My mother was taken to the desert. Lord Wang—can a son ever forget the murder of his father?” Guo Jing looked at Wang Nan with a half-smile.

Wang Nan’s back broke out in cold sweat. He wanted to scream: Is Wanyan Honglie insane? A Jin prince—what woman couldn’t he have? Why steal someone else’s wife?

And why leave survivors? Why let them escape and grow this powerful? Now your Jin is gone—and our Song is nearly gone too.

“So General Secretary has such deep ties to our Song? Back then, the court was corrupt and wicked ministers caused you suffering. When I return, I’ll immediately report to His Majesty and see justice done for your father.”

“Justice for my father? Do you deserve to offer it? Does your Song emperor deserve it? He doesn’t even control his own power—Shi Miyuan holds it. I command a million troops. The Western Xia, which once captured your emperor and turned him into corpse oil, and sold your princesses, empresses, and royal consorts as prostitutes—*we* destroyed them. Your own justice? We’re the ones who delivered it.”

“If we hadn’t destroyed the Jin, you wouldn’t even be able to seek justice for yourselves—and yet you dare speak of delivering justice for us?”

Guo Jing’s gaze at Wang Dan was thick with mockery and contempt.

Wang Dan now fully understood what “a weak nation has no diplomacy” meant. Ever since they entered, these people had relentlessly torn open Song’s old wounds.

They had no sense of “don’t strike a man’s face”—just as the Jin once shamelessly humiliated Song.

“General Secretary speaks truly. But I understand your forces, after seizing half the realm, seized land from the rich and redistributed it to the poor, and recently have been ruthlessly suppressing bandits. Though your army is strong, if you seek to destroy Song, I assure you—every official from the court down to local elites, every minister from top to bottom, will set aside old grudges and fight you. Even if you win, you’ll only gain a wasteland.” At this moment, Wang Dan spoke the boldest words of the negotiation.

“Hmm. You have a point?” Zhang Chu’an stepped forward with a smile. Guo Jing frowned at Zhang Chu’an—land reform across half the realm was complete; they should now pursue the fleeing enemy to the end.

“Let us state our peace terms. First, the Song emperor must renounce his imperial title. Since its founding, Song has been a petty regime clinging to the south, unworthy of inheriting Huaxia’s legitimacy. The Song emperor must downgrade himself from emperor to king; all imperial temples must be reduced to royal temples.”

“Second, Song must immediately launch troops against the remnants of the Jin. All conquered lands shall be ceded to our People’s Government. Third, Chancellor Han’s early financial and grain support for us was repaid with murder by your Empress Yang and Shi Miyuan—you must execute his entire clan of ten families. Also, the Song emperor must issue a self-censure edict and offer sacrifices to Chancellor Han as a son to his father.”

“Fourth, Emperor Zhao Gou accepted the Jin’s peace terms and abandoned the Han people of the north. You must exhume Zhao Gou’s tomb, whip his corpse three hundred times, and erect a kneeling statue of him before Yue Wang’s tomb. These are our demands. Are they unreasonable?” Zhang Chu’an finished, staring at Wang Dan, trembling with rage.