Chapter 340: The Crown Prince Awakens

…

Zhao Shou, accompanied by Liu Qi, Yang Yizhong, Ma Kuo, Hu Quan, and others, departed Dongjing Bianliang by boat with Zhao Yu, bound for Dengzhou Harbor.

Upon reaching the dock at Dengzhou Harbor, Zhao Shou and his companions witnessed a scene they would never forget.

It was a colossal vessel, towering like a mountain.

As the treasure ship emerged from the morning mist, Zhao Shou and the others instinctively stepped back half a pace—not from fear, but from an instinctive bodily reaction to such a monstrous scale.

The ship's hull was more majestic than the Purple Heaven Hall in the imperial palace; its ebony gunwales gleamed with the luster of deep-sea water, its masts, dozens of zhang tall, pierced the clouds, and even the portion of its hull exposed above water was more than three times wider than the dragon boats Zhao Shou and his men normally rode.

"This… is a ship?!" Zhao Shou heard his own voice tremble.

Liu Qi and the others shared the same doubt.

In the past, when discussing maritime borders with court ministers, the ships depicted in scrolls were mere ink-smeared silhouettes; Zhao Shou and his companions had assumed the so-called treasure ships were merely larger than grain barges.

But now, up close, the rivets on the hull were larger than their fists, and soldiers moving across the deck resembled ants—yet still failed to fill even the shadow of the gunwale.

Zhao Shou suddenly recalled reading the Shanhai Jing as a child, always thinking the legends of "giant tortoises carrying mountains" absurd; now, he vaguely felt this treasure ship could truly carry an island across the sea.

As they boarded, Zhao Shou and his men stepped onto the gangway, yet the wooden planks did not budge—an immovable steadiness, as if treading the jade steps of the imperial palace.

Only when the anchor chain rose and the iron links clanged like thunder in their ears did Zhao Shou and the others realize the colossal vessel had already begun to move.

As they steamed out of the harbor, Zhao Shou and his companions stood at the stern.

At first, they could still see the distant city walls and pagoda silhouettes; within half an hour, the land shrank to a gray line, and with another blink, the world was nothing but blue.

Not the blue of palace glazed tiles, nor the blue of the imperial garden on a clear day—but an all-encompassing, endless blue. The sea churned beside the hull: near at hand, clear turquoise; farther out, indigo; beyond that, merging seamlessly with the azure sky, indistinguishable where sea ended and heaven began. Occasionally, white seabirds skimmed low, their wings brushing the wave crests—those specks of white, against the boundless blue, were as tiny as an accidental ink drop on rice paper.

Suddenly, a strong wind swept across, filling the sails; the treasure ship rose and fell gently with the waves, yet stood as steady as Taishan.

Zhao Shou leaned on the gunwale, gazing ahead—suddenly, a massive wave surged forward like a moving wall of water crashing toward the ship. His throat tightened, yet the bow lifted slightly, cleaving the wave like a blade; spray exploded into a thousand rainbows under the sun, splashing onto his face with a salty, chilling coolness.

In Dongjing Bianliang, Zhao Shou had believed the palace walls marked the boundary of the world, and the emperor's view could encompass all four directions. But now, standing on this treasure ship, gazing at the endless sea, he realized all he had seen before was merely the sky seen from the bottom of a well.

Beside him, Zhao Yu said: "Since Your Majesty ascended the throne, he has vigorously developed shipbuilding and maritime trade—only thus could our Great Song possess such a primordial behemoth, enabling Your Majesty to lead us beyond the land and expand our borders into the sea…"

Before Zhao Yu's ascension, the Song court largely viewed the ocean as a perilous frontier; their conception of territory extended only to land-based cities and fields.

At that time, seafaring vessels were merely coastal grain barges; the largest could carry no more than a few hundred shi of cargo, let alone long-distance trade—relations with the Liao and Jin dynasties relied on land-based border markets, sporadic trade with Goryeo and Japan was left to private merchants, and the states of the southern Indochinese peninsula were mere blurred ink smudges on maps, rarely visited even by envoys.

The Maritime Trade Office was merely a trivial post collecting miscellaneous taxes; merchants had to submit applications to government offices for half a year before sailing, and upon return, were subjected to layer upon layer of exploitation—gradually, all maritime merchants chose to conduct trade through smuggling.

After Zhao Yu's ascension, he vigorously developed maritime trade and shipbuilding, constructing port after port, and transformed the Maritime Trade Office into the most professional customs bureau.

Moreover, Song dynasty ships underwent a qualitative leap over these past dozen years.

Under court organization, Song shipyards consolidated, pooling their strengths; using mortise-and-tenon joinery from the Yingzao Fashi, they devised a new "three-section hull": a sharp prow to cleave waves, a broad midsection like a courtyard to carry cargo, and a deep aft section like a well-cistern to store new goods—a new type of treasure ship.

What astonished Song shipwrights even more was Ma Xiao Jiao's invention of the steam engine applied to ships—its power, when unleashed, nearly matched that of a horse; at critical moments, it could cut through wind and waves, chasing enemy vessels with unmatched effectiveness.

Crucially, during violent storms and towering waves, this steam power could sometimes save lives, enabling ships equipped with steam engines to sail farther.

Today, the Maritime Trade Office's tax revenue has risen from tens of thousands of guan annually to over ten million guan—exceeding even the tea taxes of Jiangnan; ship tonnage has grown from hundreds of shi to five thousand liao; Song silk, porcelain, tea, glass, soap, machinery, and light industrial goods are transported by fleet to nations along the route, exchanged for gold, silver, spices, gems, ivory, and other exotic goods, enriching Song's material life and advancing maritime trade.

Over these dozen years, the Song dynasty has not deployed a single soldier, yet through advanced ships, has expanded its borders to places once unimaginable; many small nations, awed by Song's might, have sent envoys to pay homage, creating a scene of myriad states coming to court, elevating Song's international influence and status.

Zhao Shou's fingers tightened on the gunwale, knuckles whitening with strain. The sea wind, thick with salt and dampness, slapped his face, mingling the roar of waves crashing against the hull, shredding Zhao Yu's words into fragments and stuffing them piece by piece into his ears.

Zhao Shou knew his father, Zhao Yu, was the greatest emperor of the Song dynasty, perhaps one of the greatest in all history.

But only now did Zhao Shou begin to grasp the true magnitude of Zhao Yu's greatness.

Several days later, Zhao Shou's party arrived at Dalian Harbor (renamed on Zhang Chun's suggestion).

Upon first arriving at Dalian Harbor, Zhao Shou and his companions merely thought it newer, seeing no difference from Dengzhou.

Only Ma Kuo remarked: "Your Highness, you may not know—when we first came here, this place had no name; fishermen called it 'Qingni Wa.' Where was a harbor? Only jagged rocks surrounding shallow flats. At low tide, dozens of crooked wooden posts stood exposed from the mud, barely accommodating a dozen small fishing boats, all patched with mended hulls; fishermen had to board and disembark on swaying rafts, waiting long when waves grew high."

Ma Kuo turned to gaze at the present harbor and said: "Now, a two-zhang-high stone seawall lines the shore, capable of withstanding autumn gales; the docks feature dozens of berths, large enough for five-thousand-liao treasure ships, small ones for Liaodong cargo vessels; the shore holds warehouses, storage sheds, and the Maritime Trade Office—neat rows of blue-brick tiled buildings surpassing the old Dengzhou government offices."

As he spoke, a train rumbled "kang dang kang dang" across the dock, its five cars still laden with vast quantities of cement and timber.

Ma Kuo laughed: "This is the steam train developed by Lady Ma; rails run along the docks, one car carrying the cargo of five carts, far faster than human porters. When we first came, transport relied solely on fishermen's small carts—rain turned mud to knee-deep sludge."

Zhao Shou followed the tracks and saw hundreds of craftsmen gathered around a brand-new treasure ship, repairing it in the shipyard.