The Son of Heaven ruled all beneath the sky.
So when he declared that the Later Song lived in an age without daylight, it was not an unreasonable judgment. If the emperor himself could not call it as he saw it, who could?
Liu Han chose not to comment.
There was no point.
More than that, ever since he learned of Yue Fei's death, something had been sitting heavily in his chest. Even as a Hanlin Medical Officer, someone far from the battlefield, he could not shake the anger.
If a loyal and capable general could not survive in court, what did that say about the rest of the officials?
He almost scoffed at himself.
What was there to wonder about? The Later Song emperor himself bowed and scraped before the Jin. If the ruler bent so low, how upright could the court possibly remain?
Calling it a land without daylight was almost generous.
Liu Han sighed quietly. For a fleeting moment, he truly wished he had been born in the early Tang instead.
His thoughts spiraled, one chasing another, refusing to settle.
Across the hall, Zhao Kuangyin paced slowly, hands clasped behind his back, reconsidering the matter later generations loved to debate: the so-called "Cup of Wine Releasing Military Authority."
He was not brooding over it out of wounded pride. Even remonstrating officials in his own time never spoke bluntly to his face. They quoted classics, circled around their point, and prayed he understood the hint.
To be scolded so directly by a man from a thousand years in the future was… novel.
Still, he was not foolish enough to threaten punishment across time. What was he going to do, issue an arrest warrant to the next millennium? And if he truly angered that descendant into speaking without restraint, he would only provide amusement for Zhuge Liang and the others watching this spectacle unfold.
That would be a loss of face he had no interest in experiencing.
The more he thought about it, the more certain he became.
The cup of wine had not been wrong.
He had risen from the ranks of soldiers. Zhao Pu had likewise honed himself within the army. They both understood the chaos that plagued the realm from the late Tang onward. The root was always the same: powerful regional military governors growing too strong for the throne to restrain.
Since founding Song, every reform had targeted that problem. Abolishing the Chief Military Commissioners. Establishing the Three Departments and the Privy Council. Dividing authority between peacetime and wartime command. None of it had been done carelessly.
If something had gone wrong later, it was not in principle.
It was in execution.
More precisely, in that younger brother of his.
Dividing power was one thing. But stripping a field commander of authority before battle and allowing supervising officials to override him? That was not caution. That was self-sabotage.
Later generations mocked scholar-officials for being all theory and no battlefield sense. Zhao Kuangyin now found himself thinking that his own brother was no better. That Yongxi Northern Expedition of Zhao Guangyi's had achieved less than the literati who at least dared to stand at the front lines.
Then his gaze drifted back to the luminous words suspended above.
"Do not idly let your young head turn white."
Yue Fei had died at thirty-nine.
Thirty-nine.
A general in his prime. Destroyed under false charges.
Zhao Kuangyin felt his chest tighten.
At that moment, Zhao Pu returned, his expression troubled.
"Prince of Jin is outside," he reported. "He claims injustice and has been threatening the palace guards. After some thought, I have brought him here. He waits beyond the hall."
"He still thinks he has been wronged?"
Zhao Kuangyin laughed, though there was little humor in it.
He bent down, rummaged through the remains of a shattered chair, and selected a solid chair leg. He tested the weight in his palm, nodded once, and turned toward the entrance.
"Since he feels wronged, let him come in and explain it to me personally."
…
At the General's Residence, the mood was no lighter.
"His prose is magnificent," someone murmured.
"And his death," another added quietly, "was it not grievously unjust?"
"The loyalty between comrades was profound."
"Yet the treacherous walked free."
They had anticipated the outcome, yet hearing it confirmed still struck like a blow.
Even Zhuge Liang no longer wore his faint smile.
"The shame of Jingkang remains unavenged," he said. "And now another layer of shame has been added."
Pang Tong shook his head. "To found a dynasty under such disgrace. I have never heard the like."
Since the days of Emperor Wu of Han, the Han had honored Confucian scholarship, yet they also admired men who valued righteousness above life itself. Yue Fei's fate cut against everything they held dear.
For a moment, no one wished to speak.
Fa Zheng suddenly recalled something. "That Wen Tianxiang who wrote the Song of Righteousness. Was he not a minister of the Southern Song?"
"He was a minister at its fall," Pang Tong replied. "Led troops in a final attempt to save the state. Failed. Captured by the Mongols. He wrote that piece in prison."
Fa Zheng nodded slowly.
Lu Su added, "I studied it at the Imperial Academy. Its spirit is fierce. It rivals this Man Jiang Hong in passion, even if many of its allusions are difficult to follow."
They all agreed.
Zhang Fei, however, slapped the floor in front of him, unable to contain himself.
"So Wen Tianxiang understood. He was simply born too late."
"What he wrote was everything the Southern Song lacked."
"An imperial road bright and pure? What bright and pure? It was taxes piled so high people could barely breathe."
"And that emperor," he continued, growing louder, "calling him a dog would insult dogs. I have raised dogs with more sense of honor than Zhao Gou."
"In a world that dark, preaching morality is like playing the lute to a cow."
The more he spoke, the more his voice swelled, until it echoed through the beams overhead.
"They call it Great Song?"
"I call it Great Delivery."
The last word rolled across the rafters. Dust drifted down in response.
Liu Bei, who had been seated closest, nearly lost his balance from the sheer force of it.
Pang Tong clicked his tongue. "Yide, if you have grievances, direct them at Zhao Kuangyin, not at our roof."
Realizing he might have overdone it, Zhang Fei hurried to steady his elder brother and brush the dust from his robes.
"I only meant," he muttered, somewhat sheepish, "after reading Man Jiang Hong, I feel like marching north myself and flattening Helan Mountain for Yue Fei."
Once assured Liu Bei was unharmed, Zhang Fei seized brush and paper, commandeered Pang Tong's low desk, and began writing furiously.
Pang Tong leaned over to peek, then burst into laughter, occasionally offering a suggestion.
Nearby, Zhuge Liang lowered his voice and spoke to Liu Bei.
"If one wishes to govern through culture, education must come first."
"From observing these two Song dynasties, it is clear that the education of the heir is paramount."
He was curious about this future age without a true Son of Heaven, but curiosity meant little without practical application.
Liu Bei nodded gravely.
…
Elsewhere, Li Shimin flung his brush aside after writing the words "utterly absurd."
"Does the south truly not understand the strategic differences between north and south?" he demanded. "Or do they simply refuse to understand?"
He sat back heavily.
Empress Zhangsun moved closer, smiling gently. "Your Majesty need not anger yourself over such foolish and corrupt men."
Li Shimin exhaled slowly. "The Song inherited much from the Tang."
He left the rest unsaid.
Tang princes had learned too well from the example of Xuanwu Gate. Bloodshed within the palace had become almost habitual. The Song's situation was more tangled. The Chenqiao Mutiny had never been explained plainly, but history left enough clues.
Then came the matter of brother succeeding brother, leaving gaps and silences in the records. Suspicion within the clan. Restraint placed upon generals outside it.
And in the end, this stench of an outcome.
Li Shimin's expression darkened further.
"Henan and Hebei suffered war and devastation. Then that petty ruler broke the Yellow River dikes, allowing it to seize the Huai. North of there lay nothing but ruined fields and starving refugees."
"If reclaimed, it would bring no immediate wealth to fund Zhao Gou's comforts. So he would rather leave it in enemy hands than retake and restore it."
Yuchi Jingde frowned. "I truly do not understand what loyalty such an emperor deserves."
Qin Qiong shook his head. "Yue Fei was not loyal to the emperor. He was loyal to the people."
Li Shimin nodded, eyes cold.
"If only Zhao Gou stood before me."
"I would kill him and offer his head to the loyal souls."