Chapter 332

…

After years by Zhao Yu’s side, experiencing countless events, Zhang Chun gradually realized she might never become Empress Dowager.

This Empress Dowager is not that Empress Dowager.

If she were to be an ordinary Empress Dowager, with her son a filial and enlightened monarch, Zhang Chun felt certain she could do it—and confidently better than any other Empress Dowager.

But Zhang Chun had no confidence in becoming an Empress Dowager like Lu Zhi, Liu E, or Cixi—who wielded control over an entire state; that is, she had no confidence in being the supreme leader of a nation.

Because Zhang Chun gradually realized that offering advice was not hard; bearing risk and making decisions were the hardest.

Take Zhao Yu as an example:

Whenever something happened—especially something major—dozens to hundreds of ministers and strategists surrounded Zhao Yu, offering counsel; even at the lowest count, there were always three tiers of strategies—upper, middle, lower—for him to choose from. Not only were their suggestions wildly diverse, sometimes they contradicted each other, and crucially, each one sounded utterly reasonable.

It fell to Zhao Yu to pick out the truly correct one from among so many.

If he chose right, the ministers and strategists earned merit and reward.

If he chose wrong—especially catastrophically wrong—he would face death and annihilation of his clan, possibly ending up like Zhao Ji during the Jingkang Humiliation: captured and imprisoned by enemies, his descendants and kin likewise, his consorts, daughters, daughters-in-law, and the wives and daughters of his clan all turned into playthings of the enemy; not only he, his children, his clan suffered humiliation, but also his ministers, artisans, performers, palace maids, and eunuchs were all dragged north by the Jin, enduring the agony of a fallen state, and finally he would be nailed forever to the rack of historical shame.

More crucially, their escape routes always outnumbered Zhao Yu’s: if they deemed Zhao Yu unfit, they could simply roll up their bedding and seek a new master—like Xun Yu, who said Yuan Shao was “merely a commoner’s hero, able to gather men but not to use them,” then turned and joined Cao Cao; or Chen Ping, who first served King Jiu of Wei, and after King Jiu’s defeat and suicide, swiftly defected to Xiang Yu, then later switched allegiance to Liu Bang during the Chu-Han Contention. They were like wise birds choosing trees—when unsuitable, they left, never paying for their former lord’s failures.

Take Zhang Chun herself: if one day Zhao Yu suffered the Jingkang Humiliation and she was seized by the Jurchens, she was confident she could persuade Wanyan Zonghan, Wanyan Zongwang, and others to employ her.

But Zhao Yu had no such option—he had no room to switch masters, because he was the very tree itself; his civil and military ministers, strategists, consorts, subjects, and the foundations he had built were all vines entwined around him—he could only press forward. Win, and all shared in the rewards, with him reaping the greatest benefit; lose, and all could scatter like birds and beasts, while he alone bore the worst consequences.

In essence, Zhang Chun and others competed with “wisdom”; Zhao Yu competed with “courage and responsibility.”

Zhang Chun and others could simulate countless possibilities on a sand table; Zhao Yu had to pick one path among countless possibilities, then stake everything on it and move forward.

The world had no shortage of people who could give advice, but it was rare to find those who could turn advice into action—and dare to take responsibility for it.

Moreover, although Zhao Yu did not possess Zhang Chun’s foresight of a thousand years ahead and hindsight of a thousand years past, he was undoubtedly the most outstanding statesman: beyond decisiveness and boldness, Zhao Yu possessed extraordinary ability to integrate and command resources, and immense personal charisma—he could bring together people with wildly different temperaments, even those who despised each other, and make them work as one.

Like Liu Bang, who fused street thugs, noble descendants, and enemy generals into a force that marched all the way to Xianyang; Zhu Yuanzhang, who gathered his Huaixi compatriots, Zhejiang strategists, and former dynasty officers to build the Great Ming; Li Shimin, who balanced the Guanlong aristocracy, Shandong scholar-gentry, humble scholars, and ethnic elites, and at age twenty-eight seized the throne through the Xuanwu Gate Incident, then inaugurated the Zhenguan Era.

This relied on profound insight into human nature and politics.

In short, a successful emperor must be a top-tier political monster.

After years of deep engagement with politics, Zhang Chun had to admit she was not such a political monster.

But Zhao Yu could truly stand beside Liu Bang, Zhu Yuanzhang, and Li Shimin.

Precisely because she had seen and understood so much, Zhang Chun grew ever more appreciative of Zhao Yu’s remarkable achievements over these years, ever more fond of Zhao Yu, ever more in love with Zhao Yu.

——Perhaps, Zhang Chun saw in Zhao Yu the version of herself she had once dreamed of.

Of course, Zhang Chun did not undervalue herself: although Zhao Yu did not blindly obey her, he had adopted countless of her suggestions—so many, in fact, that she could be said to have contributed the most effective advice to him, revealing the immense influence she wielded over him.

This was also why Zhang Chun always felt Zhao Yu was the one she had shaped.

Not long after Zhao Yu decided on his triumphant return to the capital, he set out with the Divine Mechanism Central Army and Divine Mechanism Right Army.

Because Zhao Yu had long ordered the Grand Canal to be dredged anew, and recently extended it directly to Beijing, he could sail all the way back to Dongjing Bianliang.

By the way, the Song’s newly planned Grand Canal was in fact a “straightened” renovation of the Sui-Tang Grand Canal, bypassing Luoyang and Kaifeng, directly linking Beijing with Hangzhou, primarily flowing through what are today Beijing, Tianjin, Hebei, Shandong, Jiangsu, and Zhejiang provinces.

However, this did not mean the original Sui-Tang Grand Canal was abandoned; both canals were used simultaneously to maximize grain transport efficiency.

Moreover, several connecting nodes existed between the two canals, allowing ships to transfer or adjust routes when necessary.

This design preserved the historical legacy of the Sui-Tang Grand Canal while fully leveraging the economic and strategic value of the new canal, making north-south commodity exchange more convenient and injecting new vitality into the Song’s prosperity.

For this return to the capital, Zhao Yu led with the Divine Mechanism Front Army and brought up the rear with the Divine Mechanism Central Army, while he himself sailed with a small flotilla, returning quietly without requiring local officials to receive him—he ate and slept aboard his ship.

This was convenient, swift, and secure.

Of course, local authorities still had to be notified, since they needed to coordinate the waterways and clear passage for Zhao Yu’s fleet.

Along the way, passing through a village in Jining, Zhao Yu suddenly wished to visit the small village to rest from the fatigue of the journey.

Thus, Zhao Yu took Zhang Chun, Li Lin, Liang Hongyu, Liang Damei, Liang Xiaomei, Empress Qinxian of Wanyan Aguda—Heshilie Shi—, Consort Pusan of Wanyan Aguda, Consort Huizhao of Wanyan Zongjun—the mother of Emperor Xizong of Jin, Wanyan Dan—Pucha Shi—, Consort Ai of Wanyan Zonggan—the stepmother of Emperor Hailingwang, Wanyan Liang—and her birth mother, Consort Cixian, Dashi, Consort Tangkuo of Wanyan Zongwang, Consort Pucha and Li Hongyuan of Wanyan Zongfu, along with Wang Shunchen and three hundred elite guards, each capable of holding off a hundred men, into the village.

Seeing a bamboo gate half-open at a household, Zhao Yu knocked and entered.

The household had only an old woman at home, so Zhao Yu chatted with her about daily life.