Chapter 340

…

Zhao Shou, accompanied by Liu Qi, Yang Yizhong, Ma Kuo, Hu Quan, and others, departed Dongjing Bianliang City 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 his men 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 Zichendian Palace; its ebony hull gleamed with the luster of deep-sea wood; its masts, dozens of zhang tall, pierced the clouds; 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 disbelief.

In the past, when discussing maritime borders with ministers in the palace, 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; soldiers moved across the deck like ants, yet still failed to fill even the shadow of the rail.

Zhao Shou suddenly recalled reading the Shanhaijing as a child, dismissing tales of “giant tortoises carrying mountains” as absurd—yet now he felt a strange daze, as if this treasure ship truly could carry an island across the sea.

As they boarded, stepping onto the gangplank, the wooden planks did not budge at all—steady as if they were treading the jade steps of the imperial palace.

Only when the anchor chain rose with a thunderous clanking did Zhao Shou and his men realize the colossal vessel had already begun to move.

As the ship sailed 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; one more blink, and the world was nothing but blue.

Not the blue of palace glazed tiles, nor the blue of a sunny day in the imperial garden—but an endless, boundless blue. The sea churned against the hull: near at hand, clear turquoise; farther out, indigo; beyond that, merging seamlessly with the azure sky, indistinguishable from heaven. Occasionally, a white bird skimmed low, its wings brushing the wave crests; that speck of white, against the infinite blue, was 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 firm as Mount Tai.

Zhao Shou gripped the rail and gazed ahead: ahead, the sea surged into a towering wall of water, crashing toward the ship. His throat tightened—but the bow lifted slightly, cleaving the wave like a blade; spray exploded into rainbows under the sun, splashing onto his face with a salty, cool chill.

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 a patch of sky seen from the bottom of a well.

Beside him, Zhao Yu said: “Since His Majesty ascended the throne, he has vigorously developed shipbuilding and maritime trade—only thus could our Great Song possess such a primordial behemoth, enabling His 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 sea as a perilous frontier; their conception of territory extended only to the cities and fields of the land.

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

The Maritime Trade Office was merely a trivial post collecting minor taxes; merchants had to register with the government for half a year before sailing, and upon return, were stripped layer by layer of their profits—until, over time, all maritime traders turned to smuggling.

After Zhao Yu’s ascension, he vigorously promoted maritime trade and shipbuilding, constructing port after port; the Maritime Trade Office became the most professional customs authority.

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

Under court organization, Song shipyards pooled their expertise, refining the “three-section hull” design based on the mortise-and-tenon joinery of the Yingzao Fashi: a sharp prow to cleave waves, a broad midsection to carry cargo, and a deep aft section like a well-cistern to store new goods—creating 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: when activated, it could rival the speed of a horse, enabling pursuit and interception of enemy vessels with unmatched effectiveness in critical moments.

Crucially, during violent storms, this steam power could sometimes save lives, allowing steam-equipped ships to sail farther than ever before.

Today, the Maritime Trade Office’s tax revenue has surged 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 driving maritime trade forward.

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

Zhao Shou’s fingers tightened on the rail, knuckles whitening with strain. The sea wind, thick with salt and dampness, slapped his face, mingling the thunder of waves against the hull, fracturing Zhao Yu’s words into fragments and shoving them into his ears.

Zhao Shou knew his father, Zhao Yu, was the greatest emperor of the Song—and among 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 found it merely newer, seeing no difference from Dengzhou.

Only Ma Kuo remarked: “Your Highness may not know—when we first came, this place had no name; fishermen called it ‘Qingniwa.’ Where was a harbor? Only jagged rocks surrounding shallow flats. At low tide, dozens of crooked logs stood exposed in the mud, barely accommodating a dozen small fishing boats, all patched with rags; 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, two-zhang-high stone seawalls line the shore, capable of withstanding autumn gales; the wharf has dozens of berths, large enough for five-thousand-liao treasure ships, small ones for Liaodong cargo vessels; the shore boasts warehouses, storage sheds, and the Maritime Trade Office—all neatly built with blue bricks and tiled roofs, surpassing the old Dengzhou government offices.”

As he spoke, a train rumbled past on the dock, “clatter-clatter”; though it had only five cars, it still carried vast quantities of cement and timber.

Ma Kuo laughed: “This is the steam train developed by Lady Ma; rails run along the wharf; one car carries the cargo of five carts, far faster than human porters. When we first came, transport relied solely on fishermen’s small carts—rain turned the mud up to our knees.”

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