Chapter 100: Zhao Yu Just Boasted

…

In making women pregnant, Zhao Yu had never let anyone down.

Alright, under the watchful eyes of Pei Sui and the other women who had devoted themselves to him, Zhao Yu admitted he had just been boasting.

But then again, in this regard, Zhao Yu’s record was actually quite decent.

And at critical moments, Zhao Yu never let anyone down.

In just over a month, Zheng Xiansu’s belly had begun to show signs.

The crisis was over.

Every woman in the harem rejoiced. Their emperor could fly free again; their good days had finally returned.

Zhao Yu was overjoyed!

Zheng Xiansu was beautiful and obedient; whatever Zhao Yu asked her to do, she did it. Though she was Empress, before Zhao Yu she was utterly submissive—no worse than any of his concubines.

But all men have their flaws. No matter how good a woman is, staying with her too long inevitably breeds restlessness and a desire to try others.

As the saying goes: a wife is not as good as a concubine, a concubine not as good as a stolen affair, and a stolen affair not as good as one you can’t get—this is the psychology behind it.

Moreover, Zhao Yu had so many women waiting in line; how could he not be distracted?

But Zhao Yu also knew the importance of bearing the legitimate eldest son.

So for the past month, aside from the few days Zheng Xiansu had put up a “no entry” sign, Zhao Yu spent a few nights with Wang Yisu and Guo Ting, but otherwise devoted himself entirely to Zheng Xiansu, determined to father his legitimate heir before anything else.

Crucially, before this, Zhao Yu had no idea how long he’d have to go all-out to complete this task.

Fortunately!

This regimen lasted only a month, and Zhao Yu was free again.

And now, the prospect of an eldest son was within reach.

Zhao Yu rewarded everyone in the harem to celebrate.

After spending some time with Zheng Xiansu, Zhao Yu followed his habit and went to the training ground to resume practicing “Prisoner Fitness” and “Yoga.”

As expected, Li Lin was already there; she had trained for a while, her body glistening with fine beads of sweat, making her stunning abdominal lines shine brilliantly.

Seeing Zhao Yu arrive, Li Lin immediately stopped and went to help him change clothes.

Zhao Yu looked at Li Lin’s homemade tactical vest (really, he was staring at her perfect abdomen) and said: “My concubine, this chest binding is most unusual—where did you get it?”

“I instructed my maid Cui Nianyue and others to sew it. I even had them make a set for Your Majesty—would Your Majesty care to try it?” Li Lin asked.

Zhao Yu himself disliked the clothing of this era, but as a “native,” he dared not introduce future garments—risk of exposure—so he had never done so.

Now that Li Lin had brought it to him, Zhao Yu gladly took the opportunity: “Good. Let it be done.”

Li Lin immediately fetched the tactical vest she had prepared for Zhao Yu and helped him put it on.

Honestly, Cui Nianyue and the others somehow knew Zhao Yu’s exact measurements—the vest fit perfectly.

Li Lin had not only prepared a tactical vest for Zhao Yu, but also tactical pants, military boots, and even combat uniforms.

Clearly, now that she had become a true woman, Li Lin had revealed her feminine side: the desire to dress her man in the way she preferred.

When Zhao Yu was fully dressed, Li Lin was satisfied. She thought: “If only his hair were cut into a crew cut, it would be perfect.”

Next, under Li Lin’s guidance, Zhao Yu resumed training.

When Zhao Yu had nearly finished, Li Lin suddenly embraced him from behind and said bluntly: “Your Majesty, I miss you.”

Li Lin had assumed that after those three times, she would conceive and give Zhao Yu a son.

But Li Lin had overestimated herself.

On the appointed day, her monthly flow arrived precisely on time—not a moment late.

This left Li Lin deeply disappointed, and intensified her longing for her next night of service.

In fact, earlier, Li Lin had wanted to seek out Zhao Yu.

But she had heard from Zhang Chun that Zhao Yu had summoned her for service, and she had firmly refused to stay.

Li Lin knew well how desperately Zhang Chun wanted to serve him.

If even Zhang Chun had refused, it was clear that period was truly unsuitable for service.

“A small impatience disrupts great plans.”

So Li Lin had endured, to avoid drawing the ire of the formidable Zheng Xiansu.

Now that Zheng Xiansu was pregnant, Li Lin had another chance—why would she endure any longer?

Zhao Yu also missed Li Lin’s unique body and liked her direct nature; without hesitation, he picked her up and carried her into the pavilion.

Today, Li Lin was exceptionally obedient; whatever Zhao Yu desired, she eagerly complied—even when he asked her to do what Zhang Chun had done, though reluctant, she ultimately submitted.

Afterwards.

Zhao Yu held Li Lin and asked: “Speak—what do you want?”

—Zhao Yu knew well: unusual behavior signals hidden intent. Li Lin, with her proud spirit, would not be so compliant today unless she had something to ask.

Li Lin had sacrificed everything for this moment!

So as soon as Zhao Yu opened the door, she immediately clung to him, eyes full of longing: “Your Majesty, may I accompany you to inspect the Divine Mechanism Left Army and Divine Mechanism Right Army?”

Since the Divine Mechanism Left and Right Armies arrived at the Kaifeng training ground, Li Lin had been observing them through her long-range lens, studying the two new armies she had invested great effort to build.

She had identified many problems, explained them in detail to Tong Guan, who in turn relayed them to Zong Ze and others—but for some reason, several errors had never been corrected.

Li Lin wanted to go to the training ground herself to see exactly where the problems lay.

But Li Lin was an imperial consort; without Zhao Yu accompanying her, she could go nowhere.

That was why she had gone all-out to please Zhao Yu—to get him to take her to see the Divine Mechanism Left and Right Armies she longed to inspect.

Zhao Yu also wanted to see how the two armies he most anticipated were training.

Besides, if such a proud woman as Li Lin had made such a sacrifice, how could he not reward her? Otherwise, how could he expect her to work so hard again?

Crucially, if Li Lin truly helped Zhao Yu turn the Divine Mechanism Left and Right Armies into elite forces, who would benefit if not Zhao Yu himself?

So Zhao Yu said nothing—he immediately ordered Li Lin to help him dress, then had her change into eunuch attire…

…

As Zhao Yu’s party drew near the Kaifeng training ground, the clamor of training reached his ears.

Zhao Yu said to Li Lin: “The morale is impressive.”

But Li Lin frowned and shook her head, clearly disagreeing with his assessment.

Just as Zhao Yu was about to ask what she had noticed, Tong Guan, Zong Ze, Zhang Shuye, Wang Bin, and He Guan hurried forward to greet him.

Tong Guan needed no introduction—he had followed Zhao Yu since his days as Prince Xin, and when Zhao Yu ascended the throne, he rose with him, becoming one of Zhao Yu’s most trusted eunuchs, now serving as Director of the Inner Palace Guard.

Zong Ze came from a humble family with a tradition of “farming and reading”; from childhood, he labored with his brothers and studied characters under elders during off-seasons.

At age fifteen, his family moved to Niansanli Town; Zong Ze witnessed the corruption of the Zhao Song regime and foreign invasions, and resolved to save his country and people.

Before twenty, he traveled for over a decade seeking governance principles, then studied military texts and trained rigorously in martial arts, becoming a learned, well-rounded young man.

In Yuanyou Sixth Year, at thirty-three, Zong Ze took the provincial examination, passed, and entered the palace examination. He boldly criticized court policies in his essay, and due to his blunt language, was ranked in the lowest tier, granted “equivalent jinshi status,” thus beginning his official career.

As an official, Zong Ze’s performance was always outstanding.

But because of his low birth and late start, by nearly forty, he had only risen to the rank of County Magistrate.

Crucially, without Zhao Yu, Zong Ze would have remained stuck at County Magistrate forever, only reaching Deputy Commissioner of Dengzhou near sixty, then later demoted and forced to retire.

Only in Jingkang First Year, when the Jin Army invaded again, was Zong Ze urgently appointed to repel them at Cizhou, earning fame across the Hebei region.

Now, shortly after ascending the throne, Zhao Yu swiftly promoted Zong Ze to serve at his side.

Though in rank, Zhao Yu had not elevated him much.

But who didn’t know that being near the Emperor meant high status, great power, and abundant opportunity—Zong Ze would soon become a senior minister?

In fact, Zhao Yu planned to use Zong Ze to establish a police system to resolve the Zhao Song dynasty’s bloated military problem.

But now was not yet the time to act; Zong Ze’s experience was still insufficient.

So Zhao Yu had assigned him to train troops first, then send him to the front to earn military merit and prestige, before entrusting him with heavier responsibilities.

Zhang Shuye was much the same.

In youth, Zhang Shuye loved discussing military strategy; as an adult, he was appointed Assistant Secretary of Lanzhou by hereditary privilege.

Lanzhou lay on the Song border, relying on the Yellow River as a natural barrier; each winter when the river froze, troops had to remain on alert against Qiang incursions, never putting down their weapons for months.

Zhang Shuye said: “This is not a sound strategy. Without holding key terrain, you let the enemy approach the Yellow River—our army is in peril.”

There was a place called Tiandou, situated between five commanderies, where the Qiang always gathered before deciding their invasion route.

After surveying the terrain, Zhang Shuye devised a plan, captured the location, and the court built a fortified city named “Xianzhou,” ending Qiang threats to Lanzhou forever.

Zhao Yu used this as pretext to transfer Zhang Shuye to serve at his side.

Zhao Yu had other officials like Zong Ze and Zhang Shuye—Liu Ke, Zhang Xiaochun, Zhao Kai, Zhang Que, Xu Ji, and others.

He kept some near him for training, and placed others in suitable posts to gain experience.

In short, Zhao Yu followed the principle of promoting talent without forcing growth, ensuring they were fully developed and fully utilized.

As for Wang Bin and He Guan, no explanation needed—they were Kaifeng-born, battle-hardened generals, exactly the kind Zhao Yu needed to lead the Divine Mechanism Left and Right Armies.

With these men training the Divine Mechanism Left and Right Armies, Zhao Yu believed these two new forces could one day sweep away all his enemies.

After ordering Tong Guan and the others to rise, Zhao Yu said bluntly: “Let’s go see my new army.”

With that, Zhao Yu entered the training ground first.

Knowing Zhao Yu had arrived, the soldiers of the Divine Mechanism Left and Right Armies trained with exceptional vigor.

Yet though Zhao Yu was an outsider, having undergone military training himself, he could still sense something off—the armies seemed outwardly impressive but hollow inside; yet he could not pinpoint the exact problem.

Zhao Yu turned to Li Lin: “What’s the cause?”

Li Lin said: “They have not properly trained in formations before rushing into battle drills—hence their chaotic advances and retreats, utterly unfit for combat.”

Li Lin’s blunt assessment left Zong Ze and the others visibly embarrassed.

They weren’t unwilling to practice the dull drill formations, but the problem was, war was imminent—practicing only standing and marching would do no good. They had to use this precious time wisely, meaning direct training in battle formations; as for standing and marching, even if they had to practice them, it could wait until they had time.

Besides, they didn’t know who this little eunuch, who looked like a rabbit god, was—he spoke with such audacity.

Unexpectedly, Li Lin then listed, as if reciting family treasures, the very problems Zong Ze and the others had encountered, forcing Zong Ze and his men to take Li Lin seriously.

To make Zong Ze and the others value her guidance, Li Lin began outlining the key principles of the battlefield tactics, ambush tactics, siege tactics, and anti-cavalry tactics she had personally designed…

What Li Lin said matched exactly what Tong Guan had taught them about the new army’s tactics—how could Zong Ze and the others not realize that although this little eunuch was young, he clearly possessed real expertise?

Zong Ze and the others sighed inwardly: “Truly, those close to the Emperor are no ordinary men!”

Then Li Lin cut straight to the heart, pointing out the true strengths of the Divine Mechanism Left Army and Divine Mechanism Right Army: “If these two armies are to be usable, they must enforce strict discipline; all troop types must coordinate tightly to ensure smooth execution of tactics—otherwise, they will be utterly vulnerable…”

Zong Ze and the others were men of great wisdom—how could they not know that Zhao Yu had brought Li Lin here specifically to instruct them?

They quickly listened humbly and voiced their own questions, asking Li Lin to answer them.

Once mutual trust had been established, Li Lin finally addressed Zong Ze and the others on the tactical issues they cared about most:

“The Liao army has long been famed for its cavalry, yet our Divine Mechanism Corps’ anti-cavalry tactics are precisely designed to counter their mobility and shock power. First, arrange Tiger Squat Cannons in a circular defensive formation, with Divine Arm Crossbowmen positioned within the ranks and Thunderbolt Throwers scattered outside. When the Liao cavalry charges, first use the Divine Arm Crossbows for long-range volleys to blunt their momentum and weaken their charge. As the Liao cavalry draws nearer, launch Thunderbolts to panic their horses and disrupt their formation. Then, combine the firepower of the Tiger Squat Cannons with our own cavalry’s countercharge—this will surely shatter the Liao cavalry…”

To Zhao Yu, this was the real Li Lin—her eyes glowed with light, the kind only born from doing what one truly loved.

“It’s as if you were born for this battlefield drenched in smoke and fire, not for the high-walled inner palace as an imperial consort.”

Zhao Yu felt a pang of regret for her: “What a pity—you were born out of time, otherwise…”

Well, setting aside unverified legends, Zhao Yu truly couldn’t think of any woman who had left a bold, lasting mark on the male domain of war—was it Qin Liangyu, the only female general in Ming history to be enfeoffed as a marquis for battlefield merit? It seemed there was no other.

“Perhaps the battlefield was never meant for women—especially in this age of cold weapons. Li Lin’s dream of commanding troops was likely destined to remain only a dream…”

…

(End of Chapter)