Chapter 274: Zhao Ji: Your Majesty, I Wish to Take the Imperial Examination

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When Zhao Yu learned that Zhang Chun had recruited Yue Fei and Chen Kangbo to be tutors for her son Zhao Tang, three English letters surfaced in his mind: "mmp!"

Zhao Yu had only assigned Liu Qi and Yang Yizhong to guard Crown Prince Zhao Shou, yet Zhang Chun directly pulled out the Song Dynasty's most formidable generals and nearly its best chancellor to aid her son—wasn't this clearly a challenge to the Crown Prince?

More importantly, Zhao Yu knew exactly what tricks Zhang Chun had in mind.

No.

To be precise, ever since Zhang Chun proposed her strategy of granting merit and transferring noble titles to Zhao Yu, Zhao Yu had known this bitch hadn't given up her ambitions.

But there was no choice—Zhao Yu's sons were simply too numerous; without adopting Zhang Chun's plan, he truly had no better option, and crucially, without it, he couldn't remove the shackles binding his imperial princes.

In other words, this was an open strategy, not a covert one—Zhao Yu knew everything, yet he still had to walk into Zhang Chun's carefully laid trap.

Of course, Zhao Yu wouldn't lose out either.

Under this competitive system, Zhao Shou couldn't be a waste. If he were a waste, he himself wouldn't dare be Crown Prince.

As long as Zhao Shou wasn't worse than his other brothers, Zhao Yu would naturally cultivate him into the finest heir and, when the time came, hand over the Song Dynasty to him in peace.

But if Zhao Shou couldn't outshine his brothers, Zhao Yu would simply pick the one who had fought his way out of the pack—he'd surely find a worthy heir.

In short, Zhao Yu would never, like the historical Zhao Ji, pass his throne to Zhao Huan, that fool, and trigger the Jingkang Humiliation, turning himself into a Jin captive who suffered disgrace before dying.

Thus, a crown prince lacking ability and unable to command respect could easily collapse a dynasty, leading to its ultimate downfall—like Zhao Huan, like Hu Hai.

That is to say, selecting a crown prince is not merely a matter of familial succession, but a core decision affecting the state's survival—its "suitability" directly determines the dynasty's life or death.

Zhao Yu had no choice but to be cautious.

Precisely because of this, despite Zhang Chun's many scheming thoughts, Zhao Yu still resolutely chose her strategy.

Then again, Zhao Yu had clearly not misjudged Zhang Chun—she was someone who would never rest; given any chance, she'd stir up trouble.

Zhao Yu thought: "If I live to be a hundred, fine—but if one day I can no longer hold on, Zhang Chun must be on the list for burial with me, no matter who inherits my throne—even if it is her own son."

Just as Zhao Yu was pondering how, one day when he was dying, he must emulate the story of Gou Yi, someone came to report: "Your Majesty, the Prince of Duan requests an audience."

If you ask who benefited most from Zhao Yu's new system for imperial princes and clan management, the top two are undoubtedly Zhao Yu's two brothers, Zhao Ji and Zhao Si.

Why only two brothers? Didn't Zhao Yu have four brothers?

Because five years ago, Zhao Bi and Zhao Si passed away.

Now, Zhao Yu's only surviving brothers are Zhao Ji and Zhao Si—they are also the sole two dukes of the Song Dynasty.

Zhao Si was a homebody; whether or not his shackles were removed mattered little.

Crucially, Zhao Si was Zhao Yu's full younger brother; once Zhao Yu became emperor, Zhao Si would never lack anything.

So the greatest beneficiary was still the restless artist Zhao Ji.

Over the years, Zhao Yu had treated Zhao Ji quite well.

Yes.

Zhao Ji's historical reputation was poor.

But to those who truly understood the history of the Northern and Southern Song, Zhao Ji wasn't nearly as bad as portrayed.

As an emperor, two achievements carry the highest prestige: founding a dynasty, and reviving it.

Often, a reviver and a destroyer are separated by nothing more than a thin sheet of paper—step back, and you fall into a bottomless abyss; step forward, and lotuses bloom beneath your feet.

The most typical example is the historical Zhao Ji.

Historically, before age forty, Zhao Ji campaigned in the Western Regions, crushed Fang La, and reclaimed Yan and Yun, expanding the Northern Song's territory to its greatest extent—clearly possessing the qualities of a reviver.

Had Zhao Ji died at that moment, his standing among Song emperors might have ranked only below Emperor Taizu Zhao Kuangyin—above the "High Liang Car God" Zhao Guangyi, the "Chanyuan Alliance" beneficiary Emperor Zhenzong Zhao Heng, the lifelong puppet Emperor Renzong Zhao Zhen, the utterly insignificant Emperor Yingzong Zhao Shu, the ambitious but incompetent Emperor Shenzong Zhao Xu, and the short-lived Emperor Qinzong Zhao Huan—all would have ranked lower.

After death, Zhao Ji would surely receive the temple name Emperor Xuan.

But because of one foolish decision, Zhao Ji was deceived by his ministers—and, of course, because he himself wished to evade responsibility, the classic case of someone who could cause trouble but couldn't bear the consequences—he hastily passed the throne to Zhao Huan, triggering the Jingkang Humiliation and instantly transforming him from a reviver into the archetypal fallen monarch, captured by the Jin, reduced to a prisoner.

People often bestow high praise on the first two founding monarchs of a dynasty, and even more reverence for emperors like Liu Bang and Zhu Yuanzhang who rose from nothing.

People always think: if Zhu Yuanzhang could unify the realm starting with just a bowl, wouldn't he become the ruler of the entire Earth if given a full imperial bureaucracy?

But in truth, it's not that simple.

Starting from nothing does mean having absolutely nothing.

Yet at the same time, the entrepreneur faces none of the headaches like factional strife, powerful rival forces, corruption, fiscal deficits, refugee uprisings, or regional warlords.

It's like a single person: yes, he's poor, but every small progress is an optimization of his own life; whereas if you're burdened with elderly parents, young children, mortgages, car loans, and tense in-law relationships—all at once—that's what middle-age crisis looks like.

Thus, when a dynasty faces its middle-age crisis, the true value of a reviver lies in turning a negative score into a positive one despite countless debuffs—though he has many aides and holds imperial authority, it's far from as easy as people imagine.

Seen this way, isn't Zhao Ji, who nearly became a reviver, not so bad after all?

So Zhao Yu, knowing Zhao Ji had some real talent, had him undertake many tasks over the years: serving as Imperial Art Director, overseeing the construction of Yanfu Palace, supervising Song porcelain and glassware, and becoming Grand Director of the Imperial Clan Office to manage the clan.

One must admit: when a person is placed correctly, they can still shine.

Under Zhao Yu's proper arrangements, Zhao Ji gradually revealed his extraordinary talent in art and administration. Under his meticulous supervision, Yanfu Palace, though not heavily funded, displayed exquisite craftsmanship in every detail, becoming a stunning landmark in Jingcheng that inspired countless poets and scholars to compose verses—and even foreign envoys marveled at its grandeur. Under his oversight, Song porcelain and glassware reached unprecedented heights, producing countless masterpieces; even its standard commercial goods, exported overseas, brought immense prestige and wealth to the Song Dynasty.

Meanwhile, under Zhao Ji's management, the Imperial Clan Office ran smoothly, and the numerous clan members caused Zhao Yu no trouble whatsoever.

Put simply, if you ignore Zhao Ji's historical actions and judge only his conduct since Zhao Yu's ascension, he could absolutely be called a virtuous prince.

As for Zhao Ji's youthful visits to brothels and dalliances with courtesans, time has gradually erased those memories.

Zhao Yu ordered someone to summon Zhao Ji for an audience.

Soon after, Zhao Ji entered the hall dressed in splendid robes, walking with steady steps; his face bore calmness and restraint, his former wildness seemingly worn away by time. He bowed respectfully to Zhao Yu, his voice clear and strong: "Your Majesty."

"Rise and be seated," Zhao Yu said.