Chapter 446: Chapter Thirty-Four: Again

Over the Bohai Sea, wind and clouds suddenly stirred, with waves and rain beginning to rise in succession.

At this moment, Zhao Jiu, standing beneath the pavilion attached to the Octagonal Well of the Great Dragon Palace Temple, was momentarily stunned before continuing to hold his milk cake, eating nonstop while gazing into the distance over the sea.

Moments later, the wind whipped up waves, clouds pressed down rain, and indeed a storm broke over the sea. Zhao Jiu stood in the pavilion, watching from afar as fishing boats hurriedly returned to the island, but before they could reach the shore, whitecaps surged skyward and rain poured down in torrents, stirring concern in one's heart.

Yet anyone with reason knew that worry was just worry—in such a situation, no one could decide the fate or direction of the fishing boats. It was like the tide of that era, already past or soon to end, where countless people rose and fell with the times, unable to control their own course.

Still, the war was over, a new era was about to dawn, and some things would finally settle into place.

The sea and mountains remained ancient as ever, traces of Qin Shi Huang, Cao Cao, and Tang Taizong still vivid, while the rise and fall of nations and the change of eras made some things seem unchanged, yet already entirely different.

Lost in thought, the great waves had already rolled up, looking like mountains... The island naturally rose above sea level, and though the Great Dragon Palace Temple sat at the southeastern foothills, this famous Octagonal Well, needing access to water, was in a lower position. Thus, it seemed far from safe, instead facing the wind and waves head-on.

And Zhao Jiu, standing by the Octagonal Well, gradually slowed his consumption of the milk cake until he stopped altogether.

Now, when Zhao Jiu came to Juhua Island, he had intended to visit the "Jieshi" along the way, naturally recalling that lyric about "the world has changed," feeling that reversing the great situation between Song and Jin, after ten years of hardship, had yielded some achievements, and he could not suppress the urge.

Yet, as he passed Mount Jieshi in turn, climbed Qinhuang Island, and gazed at the Jieshi in the sea, he remained silent throughout.

The reason was self-evident: it was then early summer moving into high summer, with a bright sun in the sky and the sea and mountains calm and clear—where was the "autumn wind rustling again" or the "great rain falling on Youyan" to be found?

Moreover, at that time, Zhao Jiu had not yet received news of the deaths of Qin Gui and his wife, Wanyan Woben, Wanyan Hela, Wanyan Xiyin, and others, and he still lacked some confidence in completely ending the war, indeed showing a hint of hesitation.

The two factors combined, and he ultimately said nothing.

But then again, now, just over ten days from autumn, the Jin state had been utterly "annihilated," the Jurchens subdued, Goryeo and the Mongols in awe, the northern frontier swept clean, and a new order had begun to take root—his mood and the situation were naturally different.

Indeed, just now, as wind and clouds surged and white waves churned with muddy currents, he had almost seen a scene identical to that lyric, and it had led him to a completely corresponding state of mind.

At this moment, in this scene, Zhao Jiu truly wanted to hold his milk cake and sigh—"The world has changed!"

But even as it surged within him, he still did not recite it, as if a thin membrane remained in his heart, lacking that final bit of peace of mind and naturalness.

"Your Majesty."

Liu Yan, of course, knew nothing of the storm in Zhao Jiu's heart, only seeing the wind and waves growing fiercer and the rain more urgent, and stepped forward according to his duty to break this agitation. "This place is too heavy with moisture; perhaps we should return to rest in the courtyard on higher ground... Even for enjoying the view, the perspective there is better."

"No need." Zhao Jiu shook his head dismissively, placed the plate on the stone tablet by the Octagonal Well, dusted his hands, and turned to face his two trusted men. "Actually, I just came upon a truly exquisite lyric."

At this, Liu Yan naturally fell silent, while Lu Benzhong immediately cupped his hands and stepped forward... When it came to poetry, he was full of confidence... After all, what was professionalism?

"Your Majesty's lyric must be exquisite." Regardless, a flattery first.

"Just a chance discovery." Zhao Jiu shook his head with a smile, hands clasped behind his back, while in the distance, wind and waves already rolled, rain and mist merging with the sky. "But today's chance discovery is indeed exquisite... Poetry, you see, depends on several things: first, the person and the subject—an emperor writing about great events has some advantage; second, rhetoric and allusions—if the literary grace is fitting and it evokes reflection, it rises another level; third, whether predecessors had similar ideas or phrases—if it's the first of its kind, that's yet another level."

"Your Majesty's words are most true." Lu Benzhong, himself a master of poetry, understood at once, and even without prompting could expound. "Like that poem by the gentleman Zhao Liang this morning—full of overbearing spirit, rising two levels, yet because his identity was laughable and his purpose here laughable, the poem itself seemed diminished. But if Your Majesty were to recite it, at this moment when Yan and Yun have been reclaimed and the northern expedition has triumphed, it would instead rise several levels higher. I imagine the 'exquisite' Your Majesty has in mind now fits the time, scene, person, and momentum, with literary grace and allusions, and lofty intent."

"Not bad."

Zhao Jiu showed no shame.

Lu Benzhong thought for a moment, then decided not to bother building up the atmosphere further, and directly cupped his hands. "I presume to ask, may I hear Your Majesty's 'exquisite'?"

"Juren."

Zhao Jiu looked out at the heavy rain and fierce waves beyond the pavilion, and instead of reciting the lyric, suddenly returned to the original serious matter. "After this treaty, how long do you think peace will last in the northern frontier?"

"A thousand years, ten thousand generations, naturally." Lu Benzhong answered casually, but soon, having been away from this sovereign for nearly a year, he recalled the man's character and laughed self-deprecatingly. "I'm not joking... Three to five hundred years, at least, right?"

"Still joking." Zhao Jiu replied with a smile. "At most two to three hundred years; in reality, even one to two hundred will be hard."

Lu Benzhong was not stupid and immediately understood what he meant, but just as he was about to offer comfort, Liu Yan could no longer hold back. "If so, why doesn't Your Majesty pacify the northern frontier once and for all?"

"Where is there such a thing as once and for all? If we did that, we'd probably get at most fifty years of peace."

Lu Benzhong was not afraid of the Prince of Liaoyang, who had just brought down a state with a single word, but soon, as Zhao Jiu's gaze swept over, this young Master Lu smiled bitterly at Liu Yan. "That's not my words, but what my father said when we passed through Dongjing on the way north... After receiving a letter from Xu Jingheng in the southeast, my father discussed it face to face with Zhao Ding, and all three seemed to agree that using force in the northern frontier would drain the nation's blood and energy, not worth it... Your Majesty's current policy of balance is the most appropriate."

Liu Yan fell silent immediately... Never mind him; even if Han Shizhong and Yue Fei came together, they wouldn't have the standing to criticize the political consensus between Zhao Jiu and the several chancellors.

Moreover, matters of money and logistics were indeed not easy for them to speak on.

On the other side, Zhao Jiu, listening to the rain that almost merged with the sound of the waves, laughed again. "Actually, we shouldn't belittle ourselves so... Something is better than nothing, doing is more dignified than sitting around and talking idly... This move of mine isn't just for the stability of one dynasty. If handled properly, if some things take root in people's hearts, then even if a hundred or two hundred years pass and dynasties change, I imagine the northern frontier will still have some constraints, right?"

Lu Benzhong wanted to flatter on the topic of national fortune, but knowing this sovereign's character, he didn't know where to start and could only mumble a response.

It was Liu Yan who found it hard to accept. "What Your Majesty and Lu Neizhi said earlier—were you referring to our dynasty's fortune? After all this hardship, only two to three hundred years?"

"That's already a lot." Zhao Jiu replied frankly. "The court is now in agreement; at first they only compared me to Emperor Guangwu, then later exaggerated and pushed me toward Tang Taizong... But even Guangwu's Eastern Han lasted less than two hundred years, and Taizong's Tang only about two hundred seventy or eighty... Even if our dynasty establishes a new line, it has no right to surpass them, especially with the lingering ailments of the previous hundred years still festering in many southern regions."

"But even Goryeo has lasted over two hundred years..." Liu Yan still found it hard to accept. "And it shows no signs of collapsing on its own."

"Goryeo might last another two hundred years." Zhao Jiu said dismissively. "A small state with few people, tucked away in a corner, just needs to serve the neighboring great power well... Not like the Great Song—too big."

Liu Yan, having passed the imperial examinations, understood in his heart, but at this moment when everything was settled, hearing Zhao Jiu and the chancellors all speaking in unison like this, he couldn't help but feel a touch of gloom and difficulty in accepting it.

"Your Majesty."

Liu Yan's face showed bitterness. "Is there truly no eternal succession or eternal law in this world?"

"Of course there is."

Zhao Jiu glanced at his trusted man, still unconcerned. "If you look at succession from the perspective of the Central Lands, from the Three Dynasties onward—Xia, Shang, Zhou, Qin, Han, Three Kingdoms, Two Jins, Northern and Southern Dynasties, Sui, Tang, Five Dynasties, to the present—it's already three or four thousand years... As for Zhao Song... who knows if, the moment I close my eyes, another son of 'abundance and great ease' might appear?"

Liu Yan was momentarily speechless, and Lu Benzhong, with matters on his mind, dared not say more.

"As for one family, one surname, one dynasty wanting to last long, there are indeed paths to take." Zhao Jiu seemed to be comforting him as he continued. "But first, it depends on whether original learning can flourish; second, on whether later generations can recognize the times; third, on some luck... But in the end, it has nothing to do with you or me. For us to have accomplished such things, though we turn to dust in a few decades, if we can influence the rise and fall of a century's trend, that's already worthy of heaven, earth, mountains, seas, and all around us... Why overthink it?"

"Your Majesty's words are most true; I was being narrow-minded." Liu Yan quickly cupped his hands.

Zhao Jiu nodded slightly, then, amid the roar of the waves, looked at the other silent close minister. "Juren, what are you thinking? Do you think I was joking about original learning?"

"No, no." Lu Benzhong quickly waved his hands. "If these principles of heaven and earth were useless, then what would be the point of the ancient sages living? I was thinking of something else..."

"Thinking of 'abundance and great ease'?"

Zhao Jiu sneered. "Or my lyric?"

"Of course, Your Majesty's lyric." Lu Benzhong replied earnestly.

"That lyric is indeed exquisite, but there's still something I haven't done, and I feel uneasy about it." Zhao Jiu couldn't be bothered to argue, simply clasping his hands behind his back and gazing at the waves. "So, just to be able to recite that lyric with a clear conscience, I need to do one thing first..."

Lu Benzhong's face grew even paler.

The northern frontier was cleared for ten thousand li, but a storm raged over the sea, forcing Zhao Jiu to pause briefly on the island, while in the Central Plains around Dongjing, the skies remained clear for days on end.

On the first day of the latter half of the sixth month, all was peaceful.

In the early morning, Dongjing's gates opened wide, livestock and vegetables entered through the South Xun Gate, bulk goods arrived early along the Bian River, and the entire city gradually awoke amid moisture and sunlight.

Clearly, while maintaining its usual calm and bustle, this city was showing signs of burgeoning vitality.

Without a doubt, this was the result of the great victory in the north and the annihilation of the Jin state. With the nation at peace, people’s hearts yearned for the future, so naturally it was so.

In fact, several months had already passed since news of the great victory in the north had arrived. Over those months, many details of the war had come in. The people of Dongjing had gone from initial doubt to gradual acceptance and shock, and now, to some extent, things had cooled down—though the bizarre details of the northern campaign kept coming, the official gazettes were thorough, and street talk never strayed far from the north, the fervor had actually gradually subsided.

Officials were pondering His Majesty’s political intentions and the political threat from Yanjing, while common folk were more concerned with their daily meals and the necessities of life.

Yet at the same time, perhaps because they had ultimately not participated or witnessed it firsthand, and with the shadow of a decade ago still looming, the entire city still carried an air of not being fully satisfied, not fully enlightened, not fully relieved… So they couldn’t help but talk and discuss.

This was a seemingly contradictory but actually perfectly natural state of affairs.

The New Cao Gate was theoretically the main eastern gate of Dongjing. Entering through the New Cao Gate and heading west, one would follow the southern wall of the Imperial Palace, pass by Xuande Tower, and finally exit through the Wansheng Gate in the far west.

However, because bulk goods traveled via the Bian River, officials and livestock generally used the South Xun Gate, and further south outside the Chaoyang Gate was the Yichun Garden, recently converted into a racetrack. Palace expenditures had never been high, so both the New Cao Gate and the Inner City Cao Gate were more like appendages to the commercial district of Maxing Street in the inner city.

Nowadays, those who passed through here daily were mostly “cart drivers” from the estates east of the city. They owned their own fields and were farmers, but that didn’t stop them from pushing their carts into the city early each morning during the off-season, picking up small flags, and then delivering takeout on Maxing Street… This was one advantage the east side of the city had over the west.

“What’s going on up ahead? Ma Fatty, go ask.”

Zhao Carrot, the fourth manager of Fan Tower, was certainly not a takeout deliveryman, but his family also lived outside the east gate. So every day, he rose early as usual, collected fresh fruits, vegetables, fish, and eggs from the east side, exclusively for Fan Tower… Not much in quantity, but prized for freshness. He had the takeout cart drivers from Fan Tower bring them along, saving a bit of spare change. Today was no exception, but as he rode his mule up to the New Cao Gate, he was startled to find the road blocked.

Ma Fatty was a takeout cart driver for Fan Tower and a younger neighbor from the same village as Zhao Carrot. Upon hearing this, he naturally went forward to investigate. In just a moment, he hurried back and explained the situation:

“Uncle Zhao… The gate is open, but they’ve set up barricades with a notice posted. The gate guards are also shouting that there’s military business at the New Cao Gate today, and it won’t be open until noon. We have to take a detour…”

“Damn their military business.”

Zhao Carrot was furious. “Tell us to detour when we’re right at the gate… The world is at peace, the Jurchen Emperor has fled from Yanjing and died. What military business could there be? Did the Jurchens come from ten thousand li away again?”

Ma Fatty and the other Fan Tower cart drivers said nothing.

After cursing, Zhao Carrot looked back at his own convoy and felt helpless. He carefully counted out a hundred coins from his pocket and handed them to Ma Fatty: “Isn’t your clansman from our village a squad leader here? Go ask him… Tell him the tower is waiting to fire up the stoves and cook, and we need to supply the lords. With so many people, if we really have to detour to Chaoyang Gate, it’ll waste most of an hour.”

Ma Fatty nodded repeatedly and stepped forward to take the money, but as he turned around, he couldn’t help but purse his lips, thinking Uncle Carrot was too stingy… For such a serious matter, what good was a hundred coins?

Was he still using the old tricks from the days of peace and prosperity?

Sure enough, Ma Fatty pocketed the hundred coins and went into the city to make a round, just asking his clansman. Then, without showing a single coin, he ran straight back:

“Let Uncle Zhao know… As soon as I pulled out the money, the gate commander spotted it. He said, ‘What’s Fan Tower in the face of military business? And what’s a fourth manager?’ The money was taken, and I got a kick for nothing… They told us to enter through the Chaoyang Gate to the south. If we’re late, we’re late. If Fan Tower has no vegetables by noon, it’s our own fault!”

Zhao Carrot, sitting on his mule, had a face that shifted between red and pale, clearly torn between worrying about the delay and begrudging the hundred coins. After a long moment, he gritted his teeth: “You didn’t pocket the money yourself, did you? A hundred coins couldn’t even get a familiar face through the gate? That never happened even during the Xuanhe years!”

Ma Fatty just shook his head with a bitter smile, drawing laughter from the other cart drivers and laborers.

The Fan Tower people had given face, but the people from another major establishment nearby couldn’t even be bothered with courtesy and directly mocked him: “Uncle Carrot, now it’s the Jianyan Emperor on the throne, and he hates everything from the Xuanhe years… Why don’t you talk about when you were growing carrots east of the city twenty years ago? Back then, even Grand Marshal Gao bought your carrots!”

Zhao Carrot grew even more embarrassed and even more pained, but ultimately helpless, he was about to order the convoy to turn toward Chaoyang Gate.

But just then, this manager of Fan Tower, sitting on his mule, turned around and was astonished to see that, as the morning mist dispersed, the eastern road had long since become clouded with dust and smoke, clearly indicating a large army approaching.

This, having experienced the flight during the Jingkang disaster and then returned, made his heart pound, and he immediately made up his mind:

“Let’s go, let’s go. We’ll take Chaoyang Gate. Don’t run into the army.”

The group started moving, but after just a few steps, someone on the gate tower of the New Cao Gate suddenly shouted: “People from Maxing Street! If you go to Chaoyang Gate now, you’ll really be too late… Vice Minister Zhang has ordered the barricades opened. Let the cart drivers for Maxing Street come through first!”

Manager Zhao was confused and naturally couldn’t detour anymore, but with congestion ahead and the army closing in from behind, he couldn’t help but panic, shouting repeatedly for the Fan Tower carts to stay close and not break formation.

The army in the distance drew near. As they approached the tamped-down road in front of the gate, the dust gradually settled, revealing the sheer size of the force and its formidable strength.

Manager Zhao, who had always feared the military, grew more flustered, pushing forward desperately. He finally managed to get through the New Cao Gate just before the army arrived. Letting out a sigh of relief, he immediately turned back to scold:

“Don’t gawk at the army! You’ll bump your eggs and drop the carrots. We’ll follow the street… Walk slowly, look as you go… Two birds…”

The laborers and cart drivers were about to respond when they noticed Zhao Carrot suddenly freeze in place, staring at the gate tunnel of the New Cao Gate with his mouth agape.

“It’s… it’s Jurchens…”

Zhao Carrot stared at the gate tunnel, his face pale, his teeth chattering, blurting out an unbelievable sentence.

Ma Fatty and the others turned to look and indeed saw soldiers in the column coming from behind—some wore leather hats in the height of summer, others had no hats but sported the typical Jurchen queue… either a single tail or two tails at the back of the head… This was the classic Jurchen hairstyle.

Besides that, many wore tattered leather armor, carried motley banners, bore bows, and had empty quivers.

But regardless, there was no doubt—these were Jurchens.

In fact, it wasn’t just Zhao Carrot and Ma Fatty’s group. The entire New Cao Gate suddenly fell into a complete, strange silence.

Most people had no idea what was happening. A few quick-witted ones, including those in the know on the gate tower, also oddly fell into the same eerie silence along with the crowd.

“It’s Jurchens! The Jurchens have attacked again!”

In the silence, Zhao Carrot suddenly let out a loud shout, then spurred his mule and bolted madly down the main street.

The morning had just passed, and the street was wide but sparsely populated. The mule didn’t trample anyone as it carried its master into the depths of the city.

A group of cart drivers and laborers, all young men, glanced briefly in the direction of Zhao Carrot’s frantic escape, but most turned back to look behind them… There, more and more Jurchens were pouring out of the gate tunnel, but flanking them on both sides were several columns of Imperial Guard soldiers, all armored and armed, supervising the procession with stern vigilance.

The scene was unmistakable now—these were prisoners of war. The Imperial Guard soldiers were escorting captives.

According to the official gazettes, in the Battle of Huolu, from start to finish, the accumulated prisoners numbered seventy to eighty thousand, including Jurchens, Bohai, Khitans, and other so-called “true Tatars,” no fewer than forty thousand. It seemed they were parading tens of thousands of Jurchen captives through the streets.

“Manager Han.”

Just as most people were stopping in unison to watch the gate tunnel, Ma Fatty touched the string of a hundred coins in his pocket, sighed, and turned to a familiar manager from another establishment. “May I borrow your mule? I’ll go after Uncle Carrot, to keep him from getting scared into trouble… I’ll feed it well and return it to you by afternoon.”

“Alright…”

“Take my mule. Mine’s stronger.”

Just as Manager Han was responding, a slightly plump manager nearby dismounted first and handed the reins to Ma Fatty. “Be careful with your words… Don’t laugh at him. He went through the Jingkang flight and lost his family… Those of us who are older are all scared inside. I almost wanted to run just now too.”

Ma Fatty acknowledged, mounted the mule, and set off in pursuit.

From early morning, as usual, the clamor of Dongjing grew louder throughout the morning. By common sense, this noise would peak before noon and then fluctuate. But today, the city’s uproar seemed to have no end, instead surging and rising like towering waves, as if it would never stop.

And gradually, everyone came to know—because of the siege ten years ago, His Majesty had issued a special decree, ordering the Jing Sai Commandery Prince Yang Yizhong to return south early, gather the prisoners, collect the spoils, and parade them through the streets.

Only, there might be rain tomorrow, so they were forced to do it ahead of schedule.

Turning to the present, starting from the New Cao Gate in the east of the city, tens of thousands of Jurchen, Khitan, and Bohai prisoners, under the tight guard of no fewer Imperial Guard soldiers, held up their tattered banners, wore their mud-stained leather armor, carried bowstrings bows, sheathed bladeless swords, and bore empty quivers, as they walked with heads bowed down the main east-west avenue of Dongjing.

At first, the reaction of the city’s residents to this procession was no different from the scene at the gate—a few were panicked and hysterical, but more were silent, worried, and cowering.

But as more and more prisoners entered the city and more information became clear, the people along the route began to cheer, to shout, to abandon their daily tasks, and like their own children, climb onto rooftops and streets, screaming and yelling, spreading the news everywhere.

Before they even reached the inner city, some people had already tried to charge the column, attempting to bite and beat the prisoners, but were stopped by the soldiers on either side—His Majesty had decreed that after today, these prisoners were to be handed over to the Western Liao in sequence.

At the same time, the captives, who had been numb at first, became fearful, trembling, panicked, and speechless with terror.

They had never imagined that one day they would be afraid of these unarmed people.

When the captive procession entered the inner city, more and more people heard the news and rushed over along the Imperial Avenue, making the scene even more chaotic and agitated. The Imperial Guard armored soldiers could barely hold them back, and there were even clashes between the crowd and the soldiers in organized groups.

But soon, as the Commandery Prince of Jingse, who was presiding over the ceremony, gave an order, the armored soldiers regained order and respect... They began to take out the gold, silver, bronze, and iron plaques that had been prepared in advance, representing enemy officers, holding them high on both sides of the street every few people.

At the same time, the captives were ordered to throw down their banners, scabbards, quivers, and bow staves along the street, and even had to take off their tattered leather armor and stifling leather caps, walking out the West Gate bare.

This plunged the entire scene into a frenzy of cheers.

On both sides of the street, every rooftop and corridor was occupied. This was not only to get a good view of the captives but also to make it easier to throw stones and debris at the bare-chested Jurchen captives over the armored soldiers on both sides.

And when the procession reached the Xuannde Tower, which faced the Imperial Avenue, the high ground on both sides of the street was already fully occupied. At that moment, someone suddenly began trying to throw coins... No one knew why—maybe they had run out of debris and threw money instead, or perhaps it was just some wealthy people following the old custom from the days of peace and prosperity, when soldiers performed and were given money as "tips" by those holding plaques... But none of that mattered, because soon things spiraled out of control as everyone scrambled to throw whatever they had at the Imperial Guard soldiers.

Coins, hairpins, jewelry, silk, headscarves, even radishes and live chickens, ducks, and livestock... Even the top scholar outside the Donghua Gate might not have been so splendid.

Amid the deafening uproar, Ma Fatty found Zhao Carrot. At that time, the latter had just thrown out his own mule's saddle, and then, with nothing left, he collapsed behind the crowd on the messy ground, leaning against the saddleness mule, crying and laughing like a madman.

But when Ma Fatty slowly walked over and sat down beside him, Zhao Carrot stopped laughing. He just hugged this familiar person and wept bitterly, weeping so loudly it shook heaven and earth, weeping without pause, weeping like a heavy rain falling, drenching the entire Central Plains.

In the late summer of the tenth year of Jianyan, Zhao Jiu, unaware of these scenes in Dongjing, personally saw off a group of people including Yue Fei, Zhao Liangbi, Jin Fushi, Hebulai, Tuoli, Yelu Yudu, Yuan Wei Yi, and Taira no Kiyomori, and then began to turn back south.

Along the way, he passed through Yanjing, paid his respects to Lü Yihao, who was now completely bedridden, and then, following the latter's wishes, appointed Hu Yin as the garrison commander of Yanjing. Taking Han Shizhong and other high-ranking civil and military officials with him, he continued south.

By late July, His Majesty Zhao had crossed the Yellow River and arrived at Shaoxing.

Immediately, before the ministers in Dongjing could come to greet him, an imperial decree was issued, ordering all civil and military officials in Dongjing, along with those in the temporary court, and all nearby high-ranking officials who could make it, to accompany him to pay homage at the Ancestral Court of the Dao in Bozhou.

And finally, on another autumn day filled with rustling autumn wind, under the warm slanting sun, Zhao Jiu returned to the Mingdao Palace, which he had avoided for the past ten years.

PS: Next chapter on Thursday... Good night.