Chapter 51: The Prince Who Was Best at Raising Money
…
During the negotiations the next day, Li Qingchen, the Song court’s negotiator and Vice Minister of the Central Secretariat, used a ruse and uncovered that the former supreme ruler of Western Xia, the Young Empress Dowager Liang, had indeed died.
Thus, Western Xia is likely purging its former regent clan forces in full force, leaving its political situation extremely unstable—hence its urgent desire for peace.
The Song court had already won a great victory at the Battle of Pingxiacheng, and leveraging that momentum, it advanced the “Shaozheng Opening of the Frontier,” constructing multiple fortresses, and now fully controls the Hengshan–Mount Tiandou line; Western Xia has lost its springboard for southern invasion, and Song troops hold the upper hand on the battlefield.
On the other hand, Western Xia’s economy has teetered on collapse due to years of war, and now the Song court holds Western Xia’s internal turmoil as a crucial bargaining chip.
Li Qingchen and others immediately shattered the Western Xia delegation’s psychological defenses with thunderous measures, completely destroying Western Xia’s negotiating space across military, political, and economic dimensions.
For a time, the Song court pressed forward relentlessly, as if on the verge of total victory in these peace talks.
Having the will but lacking the courage, fleeing when the wind turns against them—this is a common flaw among many Song monarchs and ministers.
Seeing Western Xia’s dire situation, voices within the Song court immediately arose: “Seize this heavenly opportunity while Western Xia’s strength declines and its internal chaos brews—launch a full-scale campaign to reclaim all territories seized by Western Xia.”
Zhao Xu and Zhang Dun were deeply swayed by this idea.
Yet the Old Party firmly opposed the Song court launching another war against Western Xia.
Not only did the Old Party oppose it—even a group of New Party figures led by Ceng Bu opposed the Song court waging another war against Western Xia.
Their reason was simple and highly persuasive: there was no money.
Seeing the chance to reclaim ancestral lands and erase past humiliation had arrived, yet the Song court must abandon this heavenly opportunity simply because the treasury was empty—Zhao Xu was filled with grief and fury!
Zhang Dun racked his brains trying to raise funds to deliver the final blow and secure total victory in this war.
But the Song court had already reached its limits—it simply could not produce this sum.
Zhao Xu summoned his ministers to the Wende Hall to discuss how to seize this moment of Western Xia’s extreme weakness and extract the greatest possible benefit for the Song court.
In truth, Zhao Xu wanted his ministers to propose ways to raise money.
When it came to raising money, Zhao Xu immediately thought of Zhao Yu—the man most skilled at raising money.
So Zhao Xu specifically ordered all princes to attend the meeting, hoping Zhao Yu could offer him a swift plan to raise funds.
Thus, Zhao Yu and the other five princes also came to court.
As soon as the court session began, Zhao Yu and the other five all stared at their noses, noses at their mouths, mouths at their hearts, hearts at tranquility—listening silently as ministers debated, saying nothing.
At first, whether New Party or Old Party ministers, each could voice opinions and offer useful suggestions.
But soon, under Han Zhongyan’s leadership, the Old Party members forcefully argued that stability was paramount and war must not be lightly initiated;
while a faction within the New Party, led by Ceng Bu, calmly analyzed the empty treasury and worried about the rapid depletion of national strength from war;
another faction, led by Zhang Dun and Cai Bian, advocated pursuing Western Xia to eliminate this grave internal threat once and for all and reclaim the Song court’s lost ancestral lands.
Gradually, the discussion turned into quarreling.
Before long, ministers clung to their own views, shouting uncontrollably, refusing to yield.
Zhao Xu sat upright on the dragon throne, his gaze blazing as he scanned the quarreling ministers below.
In his heart, there was both anxiety and anticipation—anxiety that the treasury was empty and could not sustain war against Western Xia; anticipation that amid this chaos, he might find a strategy to resolve the fiscal crisis and simultaneously destroy Western Xia.
Yet his ministers could only quarrel endlessly—they had no solutions.
Zhao Xu scanned each minister below, unable to help thinking: “Is there truly no one in my great Song who can share my burdens?”
Soon, Zhao Xu’s gaze fell upon the princes.
Zhao Xu’s eyes instantly fixed on Zhao Yu.
But Zhao Xu was a man who cared about face—he could not directly say to Zhao Yu: “Prince Shen, can you find a way to raise me some money? I wish to seize this heavenly opportunity to destroy Western Xia.”
After all, these past two days, relations between Zhao Xu and Zhao Yu had been strained due to Zhao Xu’s decision to make Liu Qingjing empress.
Moreover, last night, Zhao Xu had misunderstood and refused to meet Zhao Yu, nearly delaying a matter of vital importance to the Song court.
These things made Zhao Xu feel embarrassed to beg Zhao Yu.
Yet on the other hand, all the court ministers were useless—they offered no solution Zhao Xu desired.
Forced to act, Zhao Xu had to abandon his dignity and address the princes: “The Great Song is our Zhao family’s realm and ancestral altar; you princes share its fate, its fortune and misfortune. Now the court faces crisis and urgently needs sound strategies—do any of you have proposals to offer?”
At Zhao Xu’s words, the ministers, red-faced from shouting, fell silent and turned to the princes.
Zhang Dun and other chancellors immediately fixed their gazes on Zhao Yu.
Only Cai Bian, who had been away from the capital recently, was puzzled: why was Zhao Xu seeking advice from these princes under twenty? And why had Zhang Dun and others not invoked the rule forbidding imperial clansmen from interfering in state affairs?
Facing Zhao Xu’s questioning gaze, Zhao Yu did not step forward immediately—he remained silent, head bowed. He was neither the eldest nor the youngest prince; Zhao Xu had asked all princes—how could he be the first to speak?
Seeing Zhao Yu still holding back, Zhao Xu’s displeasure flickered briefly in his eyes.
But to solve the problem, Zhao Xu suppressed his irritation and first turned to Zhao Bi: “Prince Shen, do you have a sound strategy?”
Zhao Bi bowed hastily: “I believe the arguments of Chancellor Han and Chancellor Ceng are more prudent.”
Zhao Bi’s words were exactly as Zhao Xu and the ministers expected—unoriginal, lacking merit, and useless.
Zhao Xu had never hoped for anything from the conservative Zhao Bi, so he easily dismissed him and turned to Zhao Ji: “Prince Duan, do you have a strategy?”
Zhao Ji straightened his robe and bowed: “I believe we should station troops along the border to use the threat of war to force Western Xia into major concessions in the peace treaty.”
Zhao Xu thought: “Cunning. He supports both war and peace—wants to please both sides, yet avoids offending either. How many perfect solutions exist in this world?”
Zhang Dun and the ministers were also dissatisfied with Zhao Ji’s answer.
Especially Zhang Dun, who thought: “Prince Duan is frivolous, lacks responsibility, speaks without substance, indulges in petty cleverness—this is hopeless!”
Zhang Dun turned to the remaining princes: Zhao Yu, Zhao Shi, and Zhao Si.
He saw Zhao Shi and Zhao Si visibly tense, clearly composing their words—while Zhao Yu remained as calm as ever.
Zhang Dun thought: “Will Prince Shen surprise me?”
At this point, Zhao Xu had finished his formal round—he looked at Zhao Yu with eager expectation and asked: “Prince Shen, what about you? Do you have a strategy to propose?”
Cai Bian noticed that when Zhao Yu was called upon, Zhang Dun and the other chancellors beside him all grew solemn—unlike when Zhao Bi and Zhao Ji had spoken. Above them, Zhao Xu’s face was filled with anticipation, no longer indifferent as before.
Cai Bian looked at Zhao Yu in confusion: “Can Prince Shen solve a problem even the chancellors cannot?”
Every minister here, one and all, was a master of cunning—more attuned to court rumors than village gossips.
Seeing Zhao Xu and the top officials all gaze solemnly at Zhao Yu, the unassuming prince, how could they not suspect he had something significant?
Instantly, every eye in the Wende Hall fixed on Zhao Yu—including those of the other princes.
Zhao Bi, Zhao Shi, and Zhao Si, who had been preoccupied with their own affairs and barely noticed Zhao Yu, were stunned! They could not understand why Zhao Xu and the others suddenly valued Zhao Yu so highly.
Zhao Ji, who had already sensed Zhao Yu’s changed status and position, stared with dark, uncertain eyes. He glanced at Zhao Yu, now the center of all attention, and suspicion surged:
“Since when has Prince Shen become so noteworthy?”
“What virtue or talent makes the Emperor and the chancellors so expectant of him?”
“Could he truly possess a state-saving strategy the chancellors could not devise?”
“When we played cuju last time, did he deceive me? Is he not simple-minded, but deeply calculating?”
“...”
Only when he saw Zhao Xu, seated high on the dragon throne, staring intently at Zhao Yu, and remembered Zhao Xu now had a biological son, did Zhao Ji sneer at himself: “No matter how high Zhao Yu jumps, he is still just a prince bound by circumstance—what difference is there between him and me?”
Hearing Zhao Xu’s question, Zhao Yu stepped forward and bowed: “I have no sound strategy… but I have a temporary, superficial solution.”
Zhao Xu’s eyes lit up: “Quickly propose it!”
Zhang Dun and the other chancellors perked up, eager to see whether Zhao Yu truly had ability—or whether a hidden master guided him.
Zhao Ji, unwilling to yield, thought: “I want to see what brilliant insight you can offer!”
All ministers turned to Zhao Yu.
Zhao Yu spoke as if no one else were present: “We may inventory the treasuries of all imperial offices, bundle and appraise the accumulated obsolete materials, and sell them…”
This was not Zhao Yu’s original idea—it was a fiscal innovation implemented by Cai Jing after Zhao Ji ascended the throne to resolve the court’s debt crisis.
At the beginning of Zhao Ji’s reign, the Northern Song court faced immense fiscal pressure due to prolonged foreign wars—such as campaigns against Western Xia—and extravagant spending.
According to records, wealthy merchants holding “official notes” (government-issued debt certificates) demanded repayment totaling 3.7 million guan.
Yet the treasury was empty; Zhao Ji could not pay, and the debt crisis became urgent.
Cai Jing reported the situation truthfully to Zhao Ji.
Zhao Ji looked troubled: “This shames the state! What can we do?”
Cai Jing replied confidently: “I shall attempt a solution.”
At the time, Cai Jing’s response was to turn waste into treasure.
Facing this dilemma, Cai Jing proposed a clever solution: inventory the accumulated goods in the treasuries of all imperial offices and appraise them as collateral for debt repayment.
The specific steps were:
Cai Jing ordered an audit of the treasuries and discovered vast quantities of long-stored, nearly discarded items, including:
Curtain and canopy fabrics.
Lacquerware and ivory artifacts.
Brocade, fine spices, and medicinal herbs.
These materials had been stockpiled years earlier by the imperial household or government but were now idle due to outdated styles or reduced demand.
Cai Jing appraised these goods at market value, bundled them, and converted them into equivalent monetary amounts to settle debts owed to merchants holding official notes.
Although merchants initially resented receiving these useless goods, Cai Jing guided policy to permit them to resell the items on the market for profit.
After reluctantly accepting, merchants tried selling the goods and unexpectedly found that certain items—such as brocade and spices—commanded high prices due to scarcity, yielding substantial profits.
Within less than half a year, the Northern Song court fully repaid its debts using this method, without touching a single coin from the treasury.
Moreover, the court gained a significant amount of working capital.
Through “goods-for-debt,” Cai Jing shifted the fiscal burden onto the market, leveraging merchant networks to convert goods into cash.
This approach eased the immediate crisis without triggering popular resentment through tax hikes or currency debasement.
At the time, Zhao Ji greatly praised this move, even jokingly calling the proceeds “Cai Jing’s salary.”
Cai Jing used this to consolidate his power, pleasing Zhao Ji by promoting grand construction projects and presenting calligraphy, paintings, and rare curiosities to maintain his political position.
Cai Jing’s strategy of using treasury reserves to offset debts is a classic example of addressing a crisis through non-traditional fiscal means.
Zhao Yu understood nothing of economics, but when writing his novel, he had specifically researched Cai Jing’s tactic, so he explained it with perfect clarity.
Zhao Xu’s eyes lit up.
Zhang Dun and the other chancellors secretly slapped their thighs: “There’s still this trick!”
Many ministers who understood the true value of this plan were filled with regret, each thinking: “If only I had thought of this strategy, promotion and wealth would be within reach!”
Seeing the expressions of the chancellors and ministers, Zhao Ji knew Zhao Yu’s tactic would work.
Zhao Ji felt a pang of resentment: “I’m just a prince—how could I possibly know what’s stored in the imperial palace’s various treasuries?”
In the corner, Cai Jing looked at Zhao Yu and thought: “I didn’t expect the Prince of Shen had also thought of this plan.”
Although Zhao Xu felt the plan should work, he still confirmed with Zhao Yu: “Can this strategy truly raise the funds needed to suppress the Western Xia?”
Zhao Yu, fearing humiliation, had secured a safety net: “I recommend one man. If His Majesty grants him full authority, and he fails to raise three to five million strings of cash within half a year, I shall personally make up the shortfall.”
Zhao Xu had not expected Zhao Yu to dare make such a guarantee.
This sum was too vital to Zhao Xu; so even though Zhao Yu had already crossed the red line forbidding imperial clan members from interfering in state affairs, he could not help but ask urgently: “Who does the Prince of Shen recommend?”
Zhao Yu said solemnly: “The Director of the Hanlin Academy, Cai Jing…”
……
(End of Chapter)
End of Chapter
