Inside the Luoyang residence, Zhang Fei, who still held a lingering grudge toward Zhao Gou, suddenly remembered something.
"So this retired emperor of Southern Song… how old did he actually get?"
The light screen had never stated it directly, but the answer could be worked out.
"When Northern Song fell in the Jingkang disaster, this Zhao Gou had already come of age. From that time to the wrongful death of Yue Fei was about thirteen or fourteen years."
"Loyal blood bought twenty years of fragile peace. That means when he abdicated and became retired emperor, he must already have been over fifty."
Zhang Fei muttered under his breath.
"Over fifty and still not…"
He did not finish the sentence.
Because halfway through the thought, he suddenly remembered something.
His elder brother had just turned fifty this year.
That realization rolled around in Zhang Fei's head, still not fully processed, when he heard his brother's cold voice from the side.
"To live idly past fifty and burden the world would be worse than dying ten years earlier and granting peace to the people."
Seeing the undisguised contempt on his brother's face, Zhang Fei suddenly understood.
Right.
His brother was from Zhuo Commandery too.
Then another thought abruptly popped into Zhang Fei's mind.
"Military advisor, did you know castrating pigs can extend their lifespan?"
Zhuge Liang blinked.
"…What?"
"Lesser Yao and Shun… heh."
A low sound came from Zhao Kuangyin's throat, something between a snort and a laugh.
Then Zhao Guangyi noticed his elder brother staring at him from head to toe. The look made his scalp prickle.
"Brother?"
"Nothing," Zhao Kuangyin said. His dark face revealed little emotion. "Just thinking. If even a man who killed his own brother can be called Yao and Shun… then perhaps you might be called…"
Zhao Guangyi's heart jumped halfway into his throat.
But Zhao Kuangyin paused, shook his head, and finished calmly.
"The ancients truly suffered undeservedly."
Zhao Guangyi's face immediately began turning red.
Zhao Kuangyin pretended not to notice. He simply stared at the light screen, lost in thought.
"This Jin emperor is short-sighted."
Zhao Guangyi looked confused, but then Zhao Pu nodded in agreement.
"That Wanyan Liang exhausted the state in reckless war, trying to decide the fate of the world in a single campaign. Ambition greater than ability."
"As for Wanyan Yong, rather than strengthening civil governance, what he truly practiced everywhere was compromise."
Zhao Guangyi finally voiced his confusion.
"The Mongols rose from the steppe. Wanyan Yong's population-reduction policy could be called foresighted. Why say he lacked vision?"
Zhao Kuangyin cast a sideways glance at his brother's shaved head and let out a soft snort.
"The lands south of the desert are vast. The Jin already dominate Hebei and live comfortably. Why plunge deep into the northern seas of grass to fight the steppe tribes?"
"And those tribes have never known lasting peace. If Jin grows arrogant and oppressive, they may well unite the tribes in shared hatred."
He spoke with a tone that sounded almost like a lesson.
"When brothers quarrel within the walls, they still join together to resist outside insult. The principle could not be simpler."
Zhao Guangyi felt certain the remark carried a hidden meaning, yet he did not dare pursue it.
By then Zhao Kuangyin had already turned his attention back to the poems appearing on the screen, those signed by Xin Qiji.
"This Xin Qiji," he said slowly, "with a sword in hand could kill enemies on horseback and break formations, leaving his name in history."
"With a brush in hand he could move hearts with grief and joy, responding to events and leaving verses sung for a thousand years."
He sighed.
"Southern Song did not lack a Xin Qiji who could write poetry. What it needed was a Xin Qiji who could command armies."
Zhao Pu gave a faint, helpless smile.
"He crossed a thousand li to offer his loyalty. His sincerity was beyond doubt. Yet…"
He did not finish the sentence.
No one needed him to.
After a short silence, Zhao Kuangyin spoke again.
"Have these poems copied separately and placed in my study. I will use them as a warning to myself."
[Lightscreen]
[Historically, the literary gathering between Xin Qiji and Chen Tongfu at Qianshan later became known as the Second Goose Lake Meeting.
It was one of the most memorable encounters in Southern Song history. Two discordant voices, both unwelcome at court, finally found someone who shared their convictions. They talked of the future, walked arm in arm, and for Xin Qiji it was one of the few truly joyful moments of his later years.
Perhaps encouraged by Chen Tongfu, Xin Qiji, who had spent twenty years in retirement, found his spirit rekindled.
After the meeting, Chen Tongfu departed in haste. Xin Qiji missed this like-minded comrade deeply and wrote a poem titled He Xinlang to send him. Chen Tongfu replied with another poem of the same tune. Xin Qiji, delighted, wrote yet another in response. That alone showed how close the two men were.
The third of these poems later became the most celebrated.
It included the famous lines:
I pity you most when you dance at midnight, saying a man's heart remains iron until death. Let us try our hands and mend the cracks of heaven.
Through it, one could clearly see Xin Qiji's changing state of mind. Gone was the sorrowful tone of Broken Array.
Why did he regain hope?
Aside from meeting a kindred spirit, something else had happened the year before he wrote it.
Zhao Gou had finally died.
At eighty-one.
The man who had spent a lifetime showing filial devotion to Jin was gone. Xin Qiji was probably quite pleased. Perhaps now the court would finally discuss a northern expedition.
The poem about mending heaven had not even been finished a month before news arrived from court.
Emperor Xiaozong no longer wished to remain emperor. He intended to abdicate.
The reason was simple.
Zhao Gou had worn him down completely.
After the Longxing Peace, Xiaozong had tried to rally himself. He promoted several pro-war officials in hopes of restoring the realm and launching a northern campaign.
The results were meager.
Some were like Wei Qi, a northerner who still insisted on peace.
Some were like Jiang Fu, who, once made chancellor, immediately stabbed the emperor in the back and switched to the peace faction.
Some were like Yu Yunwen, capable but taken by early death.
Throughout Xiaozong's reign, because Zhao Gou was still alive, the central government was locked in endless infighting between peace and war factions. And after every debate, Xiaozong still had to go bow before Zhao Gou and play the obedient grandson.
Anyone would be exhausted.
Later generations even speculated another reason. The new Jin emperor, Emperor Zhangzong of Jin, was very young. Xiaozong was forty years older than him, yet according to the peace treaty he still had to address him as uncle.
In any case, the moment Zhao Gou died, Xiaozong abdicated at astonishing speed. No one could stop him.
Thus Emperor Guangzong of Song ascended the throne.
Unfortunately, this emperor had a deeply troublesome empress.
She could drive wedges between father and son at the top, creating suspicion between Xiaozong and Guangzong.
She could arrange the murder of Guangzong's favored concubine below, frightening the emperor into psychological collapse.
In the end, from the time Xiaozong fell ill until his death, Guangzong never once visited him. He did not even attend the funeral.
An ailing emperor, lacking filial piety, and mentally unstable soon provoked widespread dissatisfaction at court.
Finally, ministers including Zhao Ruyu and Han Tuozhou forced him to abdicate.
In 1194, Emperor Ningzong of Song took the throne.
Ningzong was what one might call a foolish emperor. Not malicious, just weak-willed and easily influenced. That allowed Han Tuozhou to take control of the court with remarkable ease.
For Xin Qiji, however, this was rare good news.
Han Tuozhou sent invitations to pro-war figures like him. The purpose was obvious.
At sixty-four, Xin Qiji once again took office. When he became prefect of Zhenjiang, he climbed Beigu Pavilion at Jingkou and sighed with emotion, earning himself another wave of admiration from later generations.
But at that time, none of them could see what was coming.
Not the ambitious Han Tuozhou.
Not the emotional Xin Qiji.
Not the naive Ningzong.
Not the pleasure-loving Jin emperor Zhangzong.
None of them realized that the coming war between Song and Jin would become the single best catalyst for the rise of the Mongols.
The Yangtze rolled on endlessly.
And history, like the river, did not stop for anyone.]