Chapter 89: Adults

…

The next morning, Ye Shi Yun had just woken when she heard that Zhang Chun had not returned all night—perhaps she had successfully served the emperor.

Ye Shi Yun frowned. “Can you serve the emperor even when you’re on your period? Or did Zhao Yu break the rules? He’s never short of women—why would he do something like this? I just don’t believe it.”

Driven by curiosity, Ye Shi Yun didn’t linger in bed; spurred by burning gossip, she quickly washed up and took Zhao Yuannu with her to Zhang Chun’s residence.

To Ye Shi Yun’s surprise, Li Lin was there too.

“Aren’t you supposed to be training Zhao Yu in Prisoner Fitness and Yoga today?” Ye Shi Yun asked.

“He’s training Daoist health practices with the Daoists today,” Li Lin replied.

“He really does love staying fit. If he keeps this up, he might live to be a hundred.” Ye Shi Yun said.

“He might have, if he weren’t so fond of women,” Li Lin said. “I was worried he’d quit because he couldn’t bear the pain. But though he’d agreed casually at first, once he started, he became unusually serious and diligent—never complained, always pushing himself.”

Here, Li Lin added with admiration: “I wasn’t this disciplined when I trained. If he keeps this up, I could teach him some military skills. With his strength, he might become a decent special soldier.”

Ye Shi Yun rolled her eyes. “He’s the emperor—you want to turn him into a special soldier? What’s wrong with your head?”

Li Lin realized it was absurd and shrugged, unimpressed.

“You’re here to gawk too?” Ye Shi Yun asked.

Li Lin didn’t deny it. “The tiger crouch cannon and thunder bomb are done—only the gunpowder needs to pass inspection before deployment. Since I’m no longer training Zhao Yu in Prisoner Fitness and Yoga, I’ve got nothing to do but come here to kill time.”

“I envy Xiao Jiao and Qing Cheng—they can devote themselves fully to their dreams,” Li Lin said, looking at Ye Shi Yun. “You and Zhang Chun aren’t bad either. Even if you’re a bit reckless, you’re still doing what you want. Only I’m wasting my time.”

“Who’s being reckless?” Ye Shi Yun frowned, then lectured Li Lin: “You’ve got blessings you don’t know how to enjoy. If you’re bored, just eat, drink, and have fun—why torture yourself?”

“I can’t sit still,” Li Lin said.

Ye Shi Yun shook her head. “I’m not saying this to be harsh, but in this era, for a woman to command troops is already an uphill battle. If you refuse to sleep with Zhao Yu, how can he trust you? How can he give you such power? That’s military authority—not a trivial matter.”

Li Lin remained unmoved. “Mind your own business. I have my own principles.”

‘You’re biting Lü Dongbin—you don’t recognize good intentions,’ Ye Shi Yun thought.

At that moment, Zhang Chun was carried back on a shoulder palanquin by four eunuchs.

As soon as Zhang Chun stepped down, Li Lin and Ye Shi Yun saw she was limping, walking unevenly.

Li Shishi and Zhang Chun’s maids rushed over to help her back.

Li Lin and Ye Shi Yun also went to meet her.

Li Lin asked half-heartedly: “Did you succeed in serving the emperor?”

With so many people around, Zhang Chun couldn’t tell the truth. She replied evasively: “Adults’ affairs—children shouldn’t ask.”

Li Lin froze. ‘Ah, this isn’t my past life anymore—even Zhang Chun dares to talk to me like this now.’

Back at Zhang Chun’s quarters, Ye Shi Yun waited a long time before finally catching Zhang Chun alone. She whispered in her ear: “You didn’t let Zhao Yu…?”

Before Ye Shi Yun could finish, Zhang Chun clapped a hand over her mouth.

…

Three days later, reports arrived simultaneously from the northwestern and northern frontiers: the Xia and Liao armies were making major moves.

Ma Zheng, the envoy sent to Liao, also brought back rumors that the Liao army was assembling for a large-scale southern invasion—the situation was on the brink of explosion.

Yan territory was naturally defensible: northwest of Yizhou lay Zijing Pass; west of Changping lay Juyong Pass; north of Shunzhou lay Gubeikou; northeast of Jingzhou lay Songting Pass; east of Pingzhou lay Yuguan.

These passes formed a natural boundary between the barbarians and the Han, one man holding the pass, ten thousand unable to pass.

If the Zhao Song dynasty held Yan territory and the three prefectures of Ping, Ying, and Luan, along with these passes, and combined them with Hedong—which was already under Zhao Song control—the entire interior would be secure.

But the problem was, since the Later Tang, the three prefectures of Ping, Ying, and Luan beyond Yuguan had been seized by Liao’s founding emperor Yelu A, who renamed Pingzhou as Liaoxing Prefecture, governing Ying and Luan, calling it Pingzhou Road.

During Shi Jingtang’s reign, Liao’s second emperor gained the Yan territory prefectures of You, Tan, Shun, Jing, Ji, Zhuo, and Yi, establishing Yanshan Road, which stood alongside Pingzhou Road as a second administrative division.

So long as these two roads remained in Liao hands, their cavalry could march south at will—as if strolling through their own backyard.

Moreover, if their offensive succeeded, Liao’s iron cavalry could reach the Zhao Song capital, Dongjing Bianliang, within days.

In truth, Zhao Song had established four military strongholds in Hebei: four Pacification Commissioner circuits: one, Gaoyang Pass Circuit, headquartered in Hejian Prefecture; two, Dingzhou Circuit, headquartered in Zhongshan Prefecture; three, Zhen Ding Circuit, headquartered in Zhen Ding Prefecture; four, Great Ming Prefecture Circuit, headquartered in Beijing Great Ming Prefecture.

The garrisons of Gaoyang Pass, Dingzhou, and Zhen Ding, along with those in Taiyuan and Dai Prefectures of Hedong, formed a deep north-south defensive system, while the Great Ming Prefecture garrison spread east-west along the Yellow River, forming Zhao Song’s second northern line of defense.

This defensive system was meant to block Liao’s southern advance.

But since the Treaty of Chanyuan, Liao and Song had gone nearly a hundred years without war—now this system existed only in name.

Worse, the Treaty of Chanyuan had already proven that even with this system intact, it could not stop Liao’s iron cavalry from swiftly advancing and threatening the Zhao Song capital.

So when Song ministers heard Liao was preparing a massive southern invasion, they panicked.

Worse still, the Xia army was also assembling, seemingly preparing to join Liao in attacking Song.

In this era, transportation and communication were extremely difficult; moving troops between battlefields was hard. If Song fought both nations simultaneously, its limited forces would be split, leaving each front vulnerable to inferior numbers.

Moreover, fighting both Liao and Xia would create multiple gaps in the border defenses, making them hard to hold.

Also, two simultaneous fronts would double the consumption of weapons, grain, and horses.

This raised logistical concerns.

Further, due to backward transport technology and high long-distance losses, two-front warfare would impose a crushing economic burden on the state.

Two-front warfare would also lengthen supply lines and make them vulnerable to attack—if cut, the front-line troops would be trapped.

Worse still, fighting both nations at once would leave Song exposed to being attacked from both front and rear, making it impossible to concentrate forces against one enemy, and risking a coordinated pincer attack.

In short, fighting both Liao and Xia simultaneously was absolutely not a wise choice—especially for Zhao Song, already burdened with countless problems.

Yet Zhao Yu followed Zhang Dun’s advice, posthumously honoring Wang Shao, Li Xian, and other frontier-expanding heroes, and further rewarding Zhang Jie, Guo Cheng, and others for their victories at Pingxiacheng.

Then Zhao Yu issued an imperial decree appointing Zhang Jie as commander to further strengthen the northwestern defenses, build fortresses, consolidate control over Hengshan, weaken Xia’s military threat, and prepare troops for immediate war with Xia.

Zhao Yu also appointed Guo Cheng as main general, declaring he would personally lead the campaign, assembling troops toward Hebei to respond to Liao’s military posturing.

Seeing Zhao Yu adopt Zhang Dun and other hardliners’ advice, showing he was ready to fight both Liao and Xia at once, Ceng Bu and the conservative new party and old party factions all strongly opposed.

Han Zhongyan said: “The morale of our Hebei troops is already shaken. If Liao invades, battle is inevitable. Liao troops are always arrogant and unstoppable—if we march out, our men will break at the sight of them. This is what military strategists dread. I beg Your Majesty to think thrice before acting.”

Ceng Bu said: “The capital is the foundation of the empire. If the foundation shakes, how can the empire stand? If Liao’s troops reach our gates, our two-hundred-year dynasty is in peril.”

Zhang Dun countered: “In the past, Liao had a million troops and reached Chanyuan. Thanks to our ancestors’ divine protection and the fortune of the state, Kou Zhun insisted the emperor personally lead the campaign. When the imperial carriage crossed the river, our troops’ morale soared; the enemy general Tala was shot dead; Liao’s morale collapsed, and they sent envoys to sue for peace, recovering Hebei. If Liao truly dares to invade, I beg Your Majesty to emulate Emperor Zhenzong and lead the campaign personally—it will surely bring another hundred years of peace.”

Cai Bian followed: “Seeking peace through submission yields no peace; seeking peace through strength achieves it. Peace is not achieved by humbling oneself to please the enemy, but by relying on strong military readiness to stop war through force—only then will the enemy, fearing our might, dare not invade, and peace will come naturally.”

Zhao Yu sat on the throne, watching the ministers argue, unmoved.

It wasn’t that he dismissed all their arguments.

In Zhao Yu’s view, among the chancellors, Cai Bian spoke most reasonably. To beg for peace outright wouldn’t just fail—it would likely mean paying more tribute to Liao and Xia, humiliating the state and burdening Zhao Song further. First, we must draw our sword.

Of course, only drawing it—if we can avoid war, we should.

There was no choice: though Liao and Xia were weak, Zhao Song’s actual situation was clear—war would be uncertain.

Moreover, Zhao Yu felt that with ten or twenty years, he could destroy Liao, Xia, the Jurchens gathering in the northeast, and even the ununified Mongols.

But then again, though Zhao Yu had already decided to bide his time and grow stronger, publicly he must appear resolute—he could not let Yelu Hongji and Li Gan be fooled into thinking him a paper tiger.

To demonstrate his resolve, Zhao Yu had Zhang Dun scramble together two million strings of cash: one million for the western army, thirty thousand for the Hebei imperial guards, seventy thousand for the capital imperial guards.

Additionally, Zhao Yu sent Zhang Shuye and Wang Bin to Xiangzhou and other Hebei regions known for producing brave soldiers to recruit courageous men; he sent Zong Ze and He Guan to Shaanxi to recruit heroic warriors from Guanzhong, gathering ten thousand elite troops to bolster his personal guard, fully playing the role of preparing for personal command.

In court, Ceng Bu and Han Zhongyan lost the argument to Zhang Dun and Cai Bian.

After court, Ceng Bu and Han Zhongyan went together to the Chuigong Palace to see Zhao Yu.

Ceng Bu was short and thin; Han Zhongyan was tall and imposing. Now one was Right Vice Minister, the other Left Vice Minister, often standing side by side in court debating. Their stark physical contrast earned them the nickname “Tortoise and Crane Chancellors.”

In the Chuigong Palace, they again passionately argued the dangers of two-front warfare, urging Zhao Yu not to fight both Liao and Xia at once.

With no one else present, Zhao Yu spoke frankly to Ceng Bu and Han Zhongyan: “I have just ascended the throne. If I appear weak to the outside world, how can I command my subjects? How can I rule the empire? I won’t hide it from you two: if Liao and Xia show no sincerity, I cannot answer to my people or the realm—I won’t hesitate to fight.”

Ceng Bu and Han Zhongyan understood: Zhao Yu wasn’t fully backing the hardliners, nor was he determined to fight—he simply had to appear strong. If they could negotiate a peace treaty that gave Zhao Yu both face and substance, he would support them.

With Zhao Yu’s bottom line, Ceng Bu and Han Zhongyan shed their earlier fears and dispatched capable envoys to negotiate with the Liao and Xia envoys.

Having entrusted the peace talks to Ceng Bu and Han Zhongyan, Zhao Yu returned to the inner palace.

As soon as he entered the palace gate, Zhao Yu saw Li Lin pacing outside.

Seeing Zhao Yu return, Li Lin hurried over, desperately signaling him to speak with her.

Seeing this, Zhao Yu raised his hand—his attendants stopped following.

After walking only a dozen paces away, feeling others couldn’t hear, Li Lin whispered to Zhao Yu: “May I ask, Your Majesty, could the ten thousand brave recruits be trained into a new army according to my methods?”

Zhao Yu replied evasively: “How is the development of the thunder bomb and tiger crouch cannon coming along?”

Li Lin answered: “My portion and Xiao Jiao’s are complete. We only await the gunpowder, which we will refine according to my method, then we can test.”

Gunpowder weapon production had already taken shape in Bianliang, where the Guangbei Gongcheng Workshop employed over five thousand artisans, divided into ten sections—including a gunpowder section and a dedicated fire-weapon section.

The city’s dense population and low fire-resistance building materials caused frequent fires—small fires were countless, major ones at least one or two every year.

Causes included accidental fires, arson, lightning strikes, and more.

The most dangerous and hardest-to-extinguish fires were those caused by gunpowder.

Once gunpowder ignited, it meant a massive disaster.

During Emperor Zhenzong’s reign, a “workman” at the fire section overfilled gunpowder, causing sparks to fly. Instantly, explosions shook the earth; all workers in the section were killed; homes within three li were either collapsed by shockwaves or burned down. Rough estimates put the death toll at over thirteen hundred.

Developing gunpowder required stockpiling large quantities of saltpeter, sulfur, charcoal, and even finished gunpowder—all highly flammable and explosive, easily triggering fires.

Originally, Li Lin had wanted to develop gunpowder herself—but who would let her do so inside the palace?

Later, Zhao Yu sent Tong Guan to the gunpowder section to bring the best artisans to Li Lin, who then instructed them personally, solving the problem.

Now, Li Lin and Ma Xiao Jiao had produced the tiger crouch cannon and thunder bomb. Once loaded with Li Lin’s refined gunpowder, Zhao Yu’s Shenji Camp might finally have its primary weapon.

Since he had no afternoon engagements, Zhao Yu said: “You and Xiao Jiao prepare yourselves. I’ll send Tong Guan to fetch the gunpowder—let’s test the power of these two divine weapons…”

…

(End of chapter)