Chapter 202: Thousands and thousands of years, all begin from here (Part 1)
The main hall was brightly lit by candlelight, as bright as day.
The golden pillars reflected the soft light of the pearls, illuminating the robes of the officials and imperial relatives below the imperial steps in a magnificent and splendid display. This, combined with the flickering candlelight, created a dazzling effect. The music of string and wind instruments flowed leisurely, playing new tunes rehearsed by the Imperial Music Bureau. For a moment, it seemed like the sounds of a prosperous and peaceful era, a time of peace and tranquility. However, falsehood is falsehood, and something deliberately created can never become true. Just as the current splendor was dazzling, everyone at the banquet harbored their own secrets, each aware of the other's true intentions.
Emperor Huizong sat upright on his throne, wearing a brand-new crimson robe tonight. The saying "clothes make the man" was indeed true; it certainly gave him an imperial air. Beautiful concubines attended him, their giggles and radiant beauty creating a shimmering play of light and shadow before his eyes. Beyond the light and shadow lay the fragrant robes and glittering jewels of the hall, all blurred into indistinct patches of color. Imperial relatives, civil and military officials, and concubines—all were simply colors.
Zhao Ji's hands, however, were clenched tightly. No, his hands should naturally be clenched tightly.
Even suppression couldn't stop the spread of rumors. He knew many people had already set their sights on him, and things had come to this point; something more was bound to happen. Tonight in the palace, he knew even more that there were many with ulterior motives, and that the eyes watching him were even more numerous than when he ascended the throne.
After taking a sip of wine, Zhao Ji looked down at the people seated below. Cai Jing was still the same as always, his face beaming with a smile like a spring breeze. Beside him sat Li Taifu, sitting calmly and quietly. This seating arrangement kept them both silent, not uttering a single word. Then there was Zhuge Zhengwo, who, in addition to himself, had brought his disciple. To ensure the safety of the banquet, he was seated in a position that was neither too close nor too far from the imperial steps, just enough to have a panoramic view of the entire venue.
After looking around again, Zhao Ji's gaze fell on the imperial relatives.
The late emperor had few children, and the number of princes was already small. During Zhao Ji's reign of over a decade, many princes were imprisoned for rebellion. As a result, only two princely residences were currently seated at the head of the table. One was the residence of Prince Taiping, where only one person sat. Prince Taiping had been ill for nearly ten years, which Zhao Ji wasn't surprised by. The guest was none other than the heir apparent, Gong Jiu, who, tonight, wore brocade robes and a jade crown, his eyes lowered, displaying an almost docile tranquility. Beside him was a maid in blue, whom he favored and cared for, not allowing her to pour wine or tea; perhaps she was a concubine who hadn't yet received official recognition.
Emperor Huizong's impression of his nephew was that he was very well-behaved, never caused trouble, and always lived a secluded life.
Shifting his gaze to the right, he saw the seating arrangement at the Southern Prince's residence. The Southern Prince was also claiming illness; instead, his son, the heir apparent, and the princess had come. This was the first time Zhao Ji had seen his nephew. He was slender, with a jade-like complexion, clad in the elaborate robes of a prince's heir, appearing quiet and gentle. Occasionally, he would glance up, his eyes unusually calm. Yet, Zhao Ji had a vague feeling that there was something else in his eyes—perhaps… a flicker of fire.
Princess Zhao Mengyun, sitting below the Crown Prince, almost shrank into the lamplight. She wore a rather plain lotus-colored palace dress, and was so heavy with jewels that she could hardly breathe. She kept her head down and placed her hands properly on her knees. Occasionally, when a palace servant came forward to pour wine, she seemed startled, only touching her own hands, not daring to hide behind her brother.
Cowardly and unpresentable, this niece is still the same as before.
After looking around, Zhao Ji felt a little more at ease. It seemed that few of the most threatening imperial relatives were capable, which allowed him to genuinely smile a little.
The chief eunuch standing by said, "Your Majesty, everyone has arrived."
Zhao Ji withdrew his gaze, raised his hand and waved: "Tonight is my birthday. It is a rare occasion for all of you to gather here. The world is at peace. Let us drink this cup together to celebrate this prosperous age."
The music rose at the opportune moment, and all the officials and imperial relatives rose in unison, shouting "Long live the Emperor!" and drinking the fine wine in their cups. The clinking of glass goblets and white jade cups created a harmonious cacophony, and delicacies were served in a flowing stream. The aroma of roasted venison mingled with the sweet scent of imperial wine, filling the palace. Then, dancers entered gracefully to the beat of the drums, their flowing sleeves fluttering like clouds.
The atmosphere became lively, and both host and guests enjoyed themselves immensely. It seemed that there had been no rumors during this period, and Zhao Ji was indeed a truly wise ruler.
With these commotions, the vast palace instantly came to life, yet remained trapped in a carefully crafted facade. Emperor Huizong raised his cup, uttering platitudes about the joy of ruler and subjects, and the sea of faces below responded in unison, their expressions a mix of respect, flattery, caution, and indifference. The last vestige of unease in Huizong's heart was somewhat suppressed by this spectacle.
He is the emperor, ruling over the four seas. Now that he has reached this position, rumors and public opinion cannot overturn the heavens in his hands.
After three rounds of banquet and five changes of dishes, it was time to present the birthday gifts. The eunuchs carried a long list of gifts, announcing each one in turn. Coral trees from the East Sea, luminous pearls from the Western Regions, genuine works by famous artists from previous dynasties... a dazzling array of items, piled high with gold and jade.
As Zhao Ji listened, he finally gained an unparalleled sense of superiority. The whole world belonged to him, and there were countless people who wanted his favor. He would sit firmly on the throne and enjoy glory forever and ever.
The sounds of ceremonial chants filled the air, and rare and precious treasures were everywhere. A eunuch wiped the sweat from his brow and raised his voice: "His Highness the Crown Prince of Taiping offers his birthday greetings to His Majesty."
All eyes turned to Gong Jiu. He calmly rose, walked to the foot of the steps, and bowed. Behind him, a maid in green held a square sandalwood box about a foot in size and followed obediently.
"Your Majesty, I, Gong Jiu, wish Your Majesty a long and prosperous life, and boundless blessings." Gong Jiu's voice was clear and steady, and it was particularly clear in the now silent hall. He took the wooden box from the maid and opened it himself.
There was no expected glitter or jewels, nor any amazing treasures. On the red velvet cloth in the box lay only an old inkstone. The inkstone was simple and unremarkable, an ordinary Duan inkstone with wear marks on the edges, showing signs of weathering over many years. Some dried ink stains remained in the inkwell. It looked unremarkable, at least from its appearance alone, and it should never have appeared at the emperor's birthday banquet.
A commotion arose in the hall, but was quickly quelled. The crowd exchanged bewildered glances. In this situation, was it appropriate to present an old inkstone to the Emperor?
The smile on Zhao Ji's face faded slightly, and he leaned forward a little, his gaze falling on the old inkstone for a moment.
Gong Jiu then began to explain, his voice rising again, not loud, but loud enough for everyone to hear clearly: "This inkstone is an old item of the late Emperor Taizu. When the late Emperor was still a prince, he often kept it in his study as a self-reminder. Later, my father found it by chance and often used it to admonish me, saying that I should emulate the style of the late Emperor."
He raised his eyes and calmly looked at Zhao Ji: "Your Majesty is wise and sagacious, and the country is at peace. The grandeur of this prosperous era far surpasses that of previous dynasties. However, the legacy of Emperor Taizu and the late Emperor is truly a model for future generations. I dare not claim that this old item is precious, but I only hope that when Your Majesty sees this inkstone, you will remember the hardships that Emperor Taizu and the late Emperor endured to establish and maintain the dynasty, so that the Song Dynasty may be secure for ten thousand years."
As soon as he finished speaking, the hall fell silent.
So that's how it is. The old inkstone itself isn't valuable; what's valuable are the twelve characters "Old Object of the Taizu Emperor" and "Old Object of the Former Emperor's Residence," and Gong Jiu's words: recalling the late emperor's virtues, praising the current emperor's wisdom, and advising against forgetting one's roots. At first glance, every word sounds grand and impeccable. But at a time when rumors are rampant, at this birthday banquet where all the officials are gathered, to present the late emperor's old object so solemnly before the current emperor, whose ascension to the throne is quite controversial...
This in itself was a provocation. Gong Jiu had prepared a dilemma for Zhao Ji: should he accept this gift or not? Accepting it would leave him feeling uneasy; refusing it would be disrespectful to the late emperor in front of everyone at this critical juncture.
It's important to understand that Emperor Huizong (Zhao Ji) couldn't clarify the rumors at all, nor could he even investigate them. He could only wait for everything to pass, or distort the facts to find a "culprit," but that couldn't happen now.
Zhao Ji looked at Gong Jiu below the steps. The young heir was handsome and respectful, without a single flaw. He even considerately avoided mentioning any sensitive words. He only missed the late emperor and only offered advice to the current emperor.
But this thoughtfulness silently reminded everyone in the palace, and Zhao Ji himself, that the person who had long since passed away, his existence, his traces, had not completely disappeared from this world.
It was precisely this thoughtfulness that brought the long-deceased emperor into everyone's view in broad daylight. Even those with ulterior motives who kept their true intentions hidden would have their thoughts stirred once again.
Zhao Ji tightened his grip on the armrest of the throne. He slowly inhaled and exhaled, finally letting out a loud laugh, though there was little joy in it: "Good, Your Highness is thoughtful! I will accept this. I will place it on my desk in my study to serve as a constant reminder; it will indeed be a good help."
He gestured for the eunuch to take the wooden box and place it on the side of the imperial desk, where it stood out awkwardly and conspicuously alongside the glittering birthday gifts.
Gong Jiu bowed again: "If Your Majesty is pleased, then my father and I are at ease."
He returned to his seat, still composed, and whispered something to the white-clad maid beside him.
Zhao Ji also raised his cup and drank with his ministers again. As the wine entered his throat, he tasted a faint bitterness. He glanced at Gong Jiu's calm and expressionless face, trying to find something, but seeing that Gong Jiu seemed to be immediately immersed in the beauty of women, he had no choice but to swallow the wine again.
His nephew is quite the actor; you'd never guess before that he was actually someone who was plotting something at this time.
The banquet had only just begun at this point, and the smile on Zhao Ji's face had vanished.
The eunuch's greeting rang out again, eager to ease the suddenly somber atmosphere, as he announced, "Your Highness, the Crown Prince of the Southern Kingdom, wishes His Majesty a happy birthday."
The Prince of the South slowly rose. He stood after Gong Jiu. By this time, there were not many people observing him anymore. They were all thinking about Gong Jiu's intentions just now, and whether he would stir up new trouble. Even if they were watching, they were not paying attention. Seeing that he was holding a gold-painted and jeweled box that was more than a foot long, they lost interest in looking at it any further. The box itself was ordinary but priceless.
Princess Zhao Mengyun, who was at the same table, also stood up and timidly made way for him so that he could present the gift more quickly. So the Prince of Nan stepped forward, his steps calm and steady, showing a rare composure among the royal relatives.
His voice was neither too loud nor too soft, but his manners were impeccable. The Prince of the South said, "Your Majesty, I wish you a long life and good health."
Emperor Huizong's gaze lingered on his face for a moment, sensing something different about this nephew, yet unable to quite put his finger on it. Having never met him before, Emperor Huizong suppressed the unease in his heart and nodded, telling him to rise.
The Prince of the South thanked the Emperor and bowed his head to open the magnificent box. The candlelight in the hall shone brightly, illuminating the contents of the box, which shimmered with a precious light. It was a seated Buddha statue carved from mutton-fat jade. The jade was warm and flawless, and the Buddha's head was lowered in a smile. The carving was exquisite, and even the folds of the robes looked as if they were made of real clothing. It was indeed a rare treasure.
But tonight there is no shortage of treasures. This is merely a mediocre gift.
The Prince of the South said, "Many years ago, my father acquired a beautiful jade and commissioned a renowned craftsman to carve this Buddha image. It has been enshrined before the Buddha for many years. Now I offer it to Your Majesty, wishing that the Buddha would bless Your Majesty and protect the longevity of our Great Song Dynasty."
Looking at the jade Buddha, Zhao Ji's vigilance eased slightly. At least this wasn't a second Gong Jiu, which made him feel a little more at ease.
Just as he was about to say a few polite words to accept the normal congratulatory gift, Zhao Ji heard a muffled thud coming from outside the palace, like a heavy object collapsing, mixed with a few short, surprised voices. Then, there seemed to be a commotion, a faint wisp of sound escaping through the heavy palace walls.
The music inside the hall hadn't stopped, but some sharp-eared ministers had already put down their wine cups, exchanging surprised and uncertain glances. Emperor Huizong on the throne then looked up, his words halting, his gaze shooting like lightning towards the direction of the hall's entrance. Although there were only standing guards and swaying palace lanterns there, his intuition still sent a chill down his spine.
Zhao Ji's voice deepened, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide his tension and panic: "What's all the commotion outside?"
His words brought the music to an abrupt halt, and the hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Several pairs of eyes darted around, not daring to look at the emperor's face, yet unable to resist glancing at the deep night outside, all sharing a sense of unease.
Zhao Ji's expression shifted dramatically under the brilliant lights, the colors of his past affection spilling onto his face, gradually turning his expression ugly. He wasn't a complete fool, and the timing was so unfortunate, he immediately turned to his right, looking at Zhuge Zhengwo, who remained calm and unresponsive.
"Zhuge Qing!" Zhao Ji was already reprimanding him sternly, shouting, "You are in charge of the palace security tonight. What exactly happened outside the palace? Are there any villains causing trouble?"
Zhuge Zhengwo, who had been sitting as still as a mountain, finally opened his eyes. This renowned strategist, whose face was now devoid of his usual composure or sharpness, was no longer the man he once was. He was once loyal and upright, but that was all in the past. Sitting amidst this false glory, he possessed only a profound presence.
Slowly rising, Zhuge Zhengwo bowed to the throne, but did not immediately answer Zhao Ji's question; he simply sighed.
But why did he sigh?
Cai Jing, who had been observing coldly, suddenly stood up abruptly upon seeing this. His voice was urgent and angry as he pointed directly at Zhuge Zhengwo: "Zhuge Zhengwo, why don't you answer His Majesty's question? Tonight is His Majesty's birthday celebration. This is a sacred place. If anything goes wrong, can you bear the responsibility? Your Majesty, something is amiss. To ensure everything goes smoothly, please move the palace immediately!"
He could seize any opportunity, eager to find a handle to use against Zhuge Zhengwo. He would then turn around and become earnest, appearing loyal and righteous. His words were like knives, pressing Zhuge Zhengwo against him. He also wanted to take advantage of the chaos to protect the emperor and control the situation.
However, Zhuge Zhengwo remained standing, motionless, only raising his eyes to calmly sweep over Cai Jing before finally settling on Zhao Ji, whose face was ashen. He still did not answer the question about the commotion outside the hall, but simply said slowly, "The palace defenses are as usual. Your Majesty should not leave your seat at this moment."
It is not advisable to leave the seat.
It's not "cannot", it's "not advisable".
The two words fell with a bang, and Cai Jing's anxious expression froze. He glared at Zhuge Zhengwo as if seeing his political enemy for the first time, then belatedly realized something and was finally shocked; Zhao Ji, on the other hand, seemed to have been burned by the two words, his eyes suddenly widening, a chill running from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.
It is inappropriate to leave the seat. Why is it inappropriate? Who decided that it is inappropriate?
Zhao Ji turned his head to look at the hall. The banquet was already filled with panic, and people were dizzy with confusion over the situation. Only the Prince of Nan, who had been silent all along, remained calm and composed, as if nothing had happened, or as if he had everything under control. He then looked to the other side, where Gong Jiu looked back at him without moving. Finally, Zhao Ji's gaze swept over the old inkstone from the Prince of Taiping's residence next to his imperial desk.
"You...you all..." Zhao Ji's voice began to tremble, whether from shock or anger, and his finger pointing at the Prince of the South was also shaking.
There was still something he didn't understand, as if he had fallen into icy water and was about to lose his breath.
At this moment, the person who had been holding the jade Buddha box finally raised his head. The mediocre restraint of the "Prince of the South" on his face receded like the tide, leaving behind his true appearance, a coldness and composure like a lone peak in a snowy plain, before he spoke again.
“Your Majesty, please wait,” he said, changing his self-reference, “My gifts have not yet been presented.”
As if to confirm his words, Grand Tutor Li, who had been sitting at the head of the civil officials, also stood up. His face no longer showed any respect for Zhao Ji. He straightened his clothes, bowed deeply to the throne, and said, "This old minister also has something to say. This ceremony concerns the foundation of the country and the well-being of the nation. I beg Your Majesty to accept it."
Emperor Huizong finally understood everything.
"Traitors and rebels! You are all traitors and rebels!" Zhao Ji roared, trembling with rage, having long lost his imperial composure. He slammed his fist on the table, his voice filled with grief and indignation before everyone's eyes. "Zhuge Zhengwo, Li Gang, how dare you collude with rebels and plot treason! And you—"
He glared intently at the Prince of Nan: "Is the Prince of Nan's mansion planning a rebellion?!"
Faced with the emperor's fury, the "Crown Prince of the South" remained remarkably calm. He raised his hand to brush his chin, then touched his ear, and under the gazes of those who were either horrified, understanding, or terrified, he gently peeled off a thin, almost weightless human skin mask.
Beneath the mask was a pale, sallow face with sharp, piercing features and snow-white eyes. The sickness had faded, leaving only a fierce and resolute spirit tempered by illness.
"Su Mengzhen!" Cai Jing exclaimed in shock, his face drained of all color.
Of course he recognized that face. Su Mengzhen, the master of the Golden Wind and Fine Rain Pavilion, whom he had wanted to use but dared not use to his heart's content, and whom he wanted to get rid of but could not get rid of for a while. Why would he be here? Even if Cai Jing racked his brains, he would never have imagined that it would be him tonight!
Su Mengzhen ignored Cai Jing's exclamation. He pressed a mechanism on the base of the jade Buddha, and after a soft click, a hidden compartment popped out from the bottom of the wooden box. With a flick of his wrist, without even looking, he knocked the priceless white jade Buddha to the ground, just to retrieve what was in the hidden compartment.
The jade Buddha smashed onto the bricks and stones, shattering into pieces. Sparkling fragments scattered everywhere, revealing the East and West hidden in the secret compartment.
This was a roll of bright yellow silk, lying there quietly, as if it had been waiting for many years before it could finally be used. Su Mengzhen took it out and unfolded it with both hands. The silk had a special texture, and it was covered with some dim ink stains, perhaps worn by the years. Fortunately, the imperial seal was still as red as blood.
Someone, trembling, whispered: "The late emperor's edict?!"
Chaos erupted within the palace, with whispers and murmurs filling the air. Zhao Ji felt a wave of dizziness wash over him; overwhelming fear and rage clouded his judgment, causing him to scream hoarsely, completely losing his reason: "Rebellion! They've all rebelled! Guards, seize these traitors! Seize Su Mengzhen!"
The loyal guards in the palace, along with Mi Youqiao who had been standing by the throne, immediately moved upon receiving the order. They drew their swords and were about to rush towards Su Mengzhen, who stood alone below the steps.
Unfortunately, Zhuge Zhengwo was even faster than them.
His attack was swift and unparalleled, like a mountain collapsing and a tsunami crashing down. Zhuge Zhengwo sealed off all possible attack points for Mi Youqiao with a single move, trapping him in front of him. Both were top-tier masters, and in an instant, they were locked in a fierce battle, their inner strength erupting continuously. Their exquisite moves caused nearby tables and cups to shatter.
If Zhao Ji's people made a move, then naturally others should also be allowed to make a move.
The concubine who had been nestled beside Zhao Ji suddenly changed her pitiful, trembling demeanor. The fear and panic in her eyes vanished completely, revealing a chilling, ruthless killing intent hidden beneath the surface. Her hand, hidden in her wide sleeve, shot out so fast it was a blur, and then precisely gripped Zhao Ji's neck.
Zhao Ji's roar ended there, turning into a painful groan.
He struggled in terror, but the concubine gave him no chance to resist. With her other hand, she struck a pressure point on his waist, causing Zhao Ji to become weak and powerless. Then, with a flick of her arm, she hurled the Song emperor down the steps like a tattered sack, towards Su Mengzhen.
Several horrified screams rang out, but it was too late to help.
Having succeeded in her attack, the concubine didn't hesitate to tear off her mask, revealing a face as beautiful as an imperial concubine yet as cold as ice. It could only be Bai Feifei. The fact that she was forced to infiltrate Zhao Ji's inner circle had thoroughly disgusted her; now, with no need to endure any longer, she could vent her anger. She gracefully retreated and rushed into the ranks of the imperial guards who were also about to attack.
Zhao Ji was thrown through the air, tumbling uncontrollably, the world spinning around him, his vision filled with the upside-down palace and terrified faces. He could feel the cold air brushing against his cheeks, hear his heart pounding wildly like a drum, and boundless fear gripped his internal organs. He could hardly breathe, trying to control his body, but Bai Feifei's slap completely shattered his strength, and he could only crash to the ground like a piece of trash carelessly discarded.
No, what awaited him was not the ground.
It was a poignant, resolute, and swift flash of red light from a sword.
Su Mengzhen had prepared his blade for many years. In this single strike, he embodied the years of forbearance of the Golden Wind and Fine Rain Pavilion, the countless days and nights of torment on his sickbed, the blood shed by the people of the Song Dynasty, and the hopes of a woman whose moves were as swift as lightning. The shimmering blade was like her glance back and her sorrow.
This strike may not be considered the most powerful in the world, and Su Mengzhen may not be considered a peerless master, but there is only one such strike in the world, and we have finally waited for this strike!
Successfully, the blood blossomed smoothly on the bright yellow dragon robe.
Zhao Ji crashed heavily onto the cold ground. The immense impact caused his vision to go completely black. A metallic taste surged in his throat, and blood gushed from his mouth, quickly mingling with the blood gushing from the wound on his chest.
Even though Su Mengzhen avoided his vital points, intending to keep him alive a few more moments so she could present him with a true congratulatory gift, excruciating pain swept over Zhao Ji's entire body, robbing him of his last remaining strength. He lay face down on the ground, littered with fragments of the jade Buddha and dust, his face cut by the shards, disheveled and with blurred vision, only able to see the cracks in the bricks so close at hand, and countless pairs of frantically running feet.
His ears were ringing, and the screams, roars, and sounds of clashing weapons seemed distant and unreal. He saw blood gradually seeping into the cracks between the bricks, and he knew it was his blood.
Is he going to die?
He is the emperor, a true dragon, how could this happen...?
Then, the swaying white skirts appeared again; it was the white-clad maidservant serving Gong Jiu. Gong Jiu had already drawn her sword and charged into the crowd. The other royal relatives fled for their lives, leaving only her sitting upright at the banquet. Not even a drop of blood or a speck of dust had stained her; she was pure to the extreme, like a true Guanyin.
"This gift is presented to Your Majesty by the millions of people of the Great Song Dynasty who have endured and waited, but could no longer wait and endure.
She looked like she was smiling.
"Your Majesty, please do not refuse and be sure to accept it."
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