Chapter 234: Clear Skies Turn to Heavy Snow

October 19th, night.

Zhao Kuangyin did not sleep a single night.

He sat in the sleeping hall, listening to the wind outside, his heart beating like a drum.

Success or failure, life or death, would be decided tomorrow.

He repeatedly recalled the Taoist's words.

"Kai Bao, ninth year, October twentieth."

"If the sky is clear that day, Your Majesty still has one jì of life."

"If it is overcast, then… Your Majesty must prepare early."

One jì, twelve years.

As long as the sky is clear, he still has twelve years. Twelve years are enough for him to lift De Zhao onto a horse and see him off. Twelve years are enough to eliminate every potential threat one by one.

But if… if it rains?

Zhao Kuangyin dared not think further.

He lay sleepless all night, watching the sky outside the window turn from pitch‑black, to indigo, then to a faint fish‑belly white.

When the change drum sounded at the hour, he sprang from the bed, rushed to the window, and flung it open.

The cold morning wind, with a hint of dry chill, slapped his face.

In the east, a red sun burst from the horizon.

The sky stretched for miles, cloudless, a clear blue.

It was a bright, sunny day!

"Ha— ha… ha ha ha!"

Zhao Kuangyin stared at the rising sun, first stunned, then burst into a fit of ecstatic laughter.

He laughed until tears streamed from his eyes.

The massive stone that had pressed on his heart for months finally thundered down at that moment.

He can be saved! He still has twelve years!

"Attendants! Attendants!" he shouted excitedly.

Wang Ji'en scrambled in, crawling: "Your Majesty!"

"Change clothes! Give me new clothes!" Zhao Kuangyin, revitalized, swept away his previous decadence. "The weather is splendid today; I will hold a grand banquet for the ministers! No! I will go hunting outside the city myself!"

He felt strength surge through his whole body, as if he had returned to the young general who once rode his horse across the fields.

Is Heaven itself granting him another twelve years of life? He truly is the master of destiny!

He donned a set of splendid armor, strode out of the sleeping hall, sunlight bathing him, warm and pleasant. He inhaled deeply, feeling even the air was sweet.

All day long, Zhao Kuangyin remained in an extreme state of exhilaration.

He did not go hunting; instead, he unprecedentedly summoned his sons Zhao Dezhao and Zhao Defang, along with Pan Mei and other close aides, to discuss state affairs in the Hall of Martial Strategy.

He spoke with humor, pointed out the rivers and mountains, and planned how the Great Song would develop over the next ten years, how to win the hearts of the world!

He told De Zhao how to recognize talent and appoint wisely, how to balance the various factions at court.

He told Pan Mei how to reorganize the Imperial Guards and ensure the Capital's defenses are flawless.

He would settle all the governmental matters he had previously neglected, leaving himself without any worries.

Zhao Dezhao, Pan Mei and the others, seeing the emperor full of vigor, exchanged glances; though puzzled, they felt more joy than anything.

The decisive, ambitious Founding Emperor had returned.

Only Zhao Kuangyin knew that this was not merely arranging work; it was venting, it was celebration.

Celebrating that he had borrowed twelve more years of life from the brink of the Ghost Gate.

After a day's deliberations, evening had arrived.

Still unsated, Zhao Kuangyin set another banquet in the palace, drinking heartily with his sons and confidants.

After three rounds of wine, he even joined the Imperial Guards in wrestling, drawing cheers.

The banquet only dispersed when the moon rose to the zenith.

Slightly tipsy, Zhao Kuangyin, aided by Wang Ji'en, walked back to the sleeping hall.

He looked up at the night sky; a bright moon hung high, stars glittered.

"Excellent! What fine weather!" he laughed drunkenly, "Tomorrow will surely be fine weather too!"

Wang Ji'en quickly echoed, "Indeed, Your Majesty's blessings are boundless; every day is a fine scene."

Satisfied, Zhao Kuangyin returned to his chamber, rested his head on the pillow, and fell into deep sleep.

It was the most peaceful, sweetest sleep he had had in months.

He dreamed that De Zhao, after inheriting his position, became a wise ruler who ushered in a flourishing age far surpassing that of the Han and Tang.

He dreamed that he became the Retired Emperor, in Luoyang's palace, pampering his grandchildren with sweets and enjoying his twilight years.

Everything in the dream was so beautiful.

Yet while he slept, outside the sleeping hall, the bright moon in the night sky had, unbeknownst to anyone, been silently covered by gathering dark clouds.

The wind began to rise.

Carrying a bone‑chilling damp cold.

In the latter part of the night, Zhao Kuangyin was awakened by the cold.

A chilling cold seeped through the window cracks, winding around his neck like a small snake.

He groggily opened his eyes and muttered, "Wang Ji'en, close the windows tighter; where does such a strong wind come from…?"

The hall was pitch black, only a candlestand in the corner flickered with a pea‑sized light.

No one answered him.

The attending eunuchs were all resting in the outer hall.

Zhao Kuangyin was a bit annoyed, turned over, and wanted to pull the blanket tighter.

Just then, a pallid flash of light suddenly streaked in from outside the window, instantly illuminating the entire bedchamber!

Immediately after, a deep, muffled thunder rolled across the horizon.

Boom—

Zhao Kuangyin's body, as if struck by lightning, suddenly stiffened.

Thunder?

All his drunkenness and sleepiness vanished without a trace in that instant.

He sprang up from the bed, his heart pounding wildly, almost leaping out of his throat.

He didn't even have time to put on his shoes, barefoot and stumbling, he rushed to the window.

He flung the window open.

A gust of wind mixed with icy moisture rushed in instantly, making him shiver all over.

Outside the window, where was there any bright moon or stars!

The thick, impenetrable dark clouds lay like a huge lid pressing down over Kaifeng; the wind swept up dead leaves, swirling wildly in the palace courtyard, emitting eerie wails.

Another bolt of lightning split the night sky!

That pallid light illuminated Zhao Kuangyin's face, which had instantly lost all color.

He saw it.

In the lightning's glare, he saw it clearly.

Some small, white things were fluttering down from the black sky.

Not rain.

It was snow.

In the ninth year of the Kai Bao era, on the night of October 20th, Kaifeng was snowing.

"No……"

From Zhao Kuangyin's throat came a beast-like howl.

He reached out his hand, extending it outside the window.

The icy snowflakes landed on his palm, quickly melting into a patch of piercing cold water.

Overcast rain……

The Taoist's words, each character, were like a red-hot branding iron, searing fiercely into his mind.

"If it's overcast rain, then… Your Majesty needs to prepare early……"

Prepare early……

"No! Impossible!!"

Zhao Kuangyin jerked his hand back, as if stung by a scorpion. He slammed the window shut, as if that could keep the dreadful prophecy outside.

He slid down to sit on the floor, his back against the cold wall, his body out of his control.

The lofty ambition and beautiful visions of the next twelve years he had harbored that day were, in this moment, shattered by the sudden heavy snow.

Why?

Why would this happen!