Chapter 4: Seizing the Throat of Fate

Zhao Xu's first breakfast back in the eighth year of Yuanfeng was one he had chosen himself.

A piece of cheese, two boiled eggs, and a small bowl of porridge.

Just as he finished eating, Feng Jing returned.

Zhao Xu no longer hesitated and immediately ordered Feng Jing to grind the ink and lay out the paper. On a desk in the hall, which was specifically for his calligraphy, he was about to start writing.

However, when Zhao Xu saw the two scrolls of Buddhist scriptures that Feng Jing had brought back, he was momentarily lost in thought.

"Is this the will of heaven?" he murmured softly.

Memories of his previous life flashed through his mind.

In the Funing Hall, the ministers gathered.

The curtain had been drawn, and the Empress Dowager was in charge.

The young Zhao Xu was carried out from behind the curtain.

The ministers of the two councils all bowed, their hands clasped, and called out, "Your Highness."

At that moment, from behind the curtain, the Empress Dowager's voice echoed: "The Prince is intelligent and studious, having recited seven volumes of the Analects of Confucius. He is not fond of play, only of reading. Since the Emperor began taking medicine, he has written two scrolls of Buddhist scriptures to pray for blessings!"

At that time, the young Zhao Xu, surprised, turned around and saw the inner minister Zhang Maoze, who brought the two scrolls of Buddhist scriptures from behind the curtain and presented them to the ministers.

After the ministers had passed them around, they all bowed and said, "The Song Dynasty has an heir, and the state is fortunate!"

At that time, the Buddhist scriptures that Zhang Maoze had passed from behind the curtain were exactly the same as the ones Feng Jing had brought from the Zishan Hall.

One was for disaster relief, and the other for longevity.

Zhao Xu recalled, and his hand, holding the brush, began to leave words on the Yuan paper.

Zhao Xu did not use the flashy writing techniques he had learned in modern times.

Instead, he wrote neatly and meticulously, using the standard regular script.

Word by word, line by line, from left to right.

Although he was just a child, with small hands and little strength, his writing was shallow.

However, it was neat and clear, with each character almost the same size and format.

This amazed the inner ministers who were serving beside him.

"Your Highness's brushwork is truly excellent. Even the young Wang Xizhi might not have been better!" Feng Jing praised, half sincerely and half flatteringly.

Zhao Xu did not respond, only continuing to write.

In his mind, the memories that were now just fleeting images began to flash back.

The stern face of his father, the Emperor, gradually came into focus.

From the imperial portrait in the Jingfu Palace, it gradually became more real and warm.

In his ears, the faint sound of flowing water and the elegant music of the zither and flute could be heard.

The candlelight began to reflect, and the figures of the ministers, dressed in purple robes, wearing flowers and fish, were reflected in his pupils.

"Sixth Brother, come with me, don't be afraid!" His father, the Emperor, held his small, thin hand and led him out from behind the curtain.

This was the Jiyin Hall!

"This is my sixth son, Yong!" The Emperor smiled and introduced him to the ministers gathered in the Jiyin Hall: "He has been enfeoffed as the Prince of Yan'an. I plan to have him leave the palace in the spring. At that time, I will need the assistance and protection of all the ministers!"

The ministers then divided into two groups, the civil and military, and came forward to bow and congratulate the Emperor and the young, thin Zhao Xu standing beside him.

Many years later, Zhao Xu learned that for that night's grand banquet in the Jiyin Hall, his father had made meticulous arrangements.

Not only were all the ministers and military officers of the capital summoned, but many important officials from outside the capital were also recalled in advance, and complex personnel arrangements were made.

The Jingfu Palace Envoy, the Wu Xin Army Governor, the Deputy Chief of the Inner Palace, and the Commander of the Xihedao and Lanhui Road, Li Xian, who held significant military power, were summoned by imperial decree to attend the palace banquet that night.

Along with Li Xian, another person returned to the capital.

Lü Shengqing, the Transport Commissioner of the Hebei Road.

Lü Shengqing was not important, but his elder brother, Lü Huiqing, was. Lü Huiqing was the Grand Secretary of the Zizheng Hall, the Governor of Taiyuan, and the Commander of the Linyan Road.

Most of the Western Army was under Lü Huiqing's command, and his generals were mostly frontier military officials from the Xining period.

In addition, the Chancellor and Deputy Chancellor, Wang Anli, who was about to be posted to Jiangning, was specially arranged to sit in a position just below the two prime ministers, so that he could clearly see Zhao Xu.

Wang Anli was the younger brother of Wang Anshi, and Jiangning, where he was about to be posted, was where Wang Anshi had retired after resigning.

These people, along with all the ministers and military officers of the capital, attended the night banquet in the Jiyin Hall.

This was equivalent to declaring to the world that the Prince of Yan'an was the heir!

It was also equivalent to providing Zhao Xu with an insurance policy.

If anything happened, Li Xian's and Lü Huiqing's armies, plus the call of the Wang brothers, would be enough to reverse everything.

Not only that.

A few days later, Zhao Xu's father, the Emperor, publicly announced in the Yanhe Hall, in front of the ministers, a decision.

"The Prince of Yan'an will leave the palace in the spring, and Sima Guang and Lu Gongzhu will be his tutors!"

This was a double insurance.

With this decision, the old party in Luoyang was united.

"Parents who love their children plan for their long-term future!" Zhao Xu thought, feeling a deep sense of emotion.

His hand, holding the brush, trembled slightly, and a few ink spots spread on the paper, turning the entire character into a black blob.

Zhao Xu reached out, and Feng Jing, who was serving beside him, promptly handed him a piece of Yuan paper, cut to the size of a single character.

In the Song Dynasty, there were no pencils or erasers.

What to do if you wrote a wrong character?

The answer was simple: use a piece of paper to cover the mistake and write again.

Zhao Xu pasted the paper over the wrong character.

In his memory, the impression of his father's health was almost entirely from that night in the Jiyin Hall.

The rest, what he could still remember, were of his father lying in bed, his face thin and pale.

In his mind, the things he only learned after taking power began to resurface.

"I have a headache and my foot is injured!"

"I feel so cold!"

These were the words the inner minister Yan Shuqin testified that his father, the Emperor, said to him when he came out of the Yanchun Pavilion in the twelfth month of the seventh year of Yuanfeng.

The cold words turned into painful, lonely moans in Zhao Xu's heart.

As the supreme ruler, the Emperor of the world,

Yet, in the cold winter, he came alone to the cold Yanchun Pavilion in the deep palace.

He had a headache, his foot was injured, and he was shivering with cold.

He knew he did not have much time left.

But looking around, there was no one in the entire imperial city who could comfort him or give him warmth.

In the vast palace, he could only face the world alone.

Just like after the Xining period, he could only carry the banner of reform alone and lead the reform alone.

So, in loneliness and despair, he came to the Yanchun Pavilion.

There, he found the warmth and support he once had.

The relics and portraits of the only relative who understood him, encouraged him, and supported him were enshrined in the Yanchun Pavilion.

The Empress Dowager Cisheng Guangxian, Empress Cao!

According to the testimony of other inner ministers,

They had seen the Emperor weeping in the Yanchun Pavilion more than once in the twelfth month of the seventh year of Yuanfeng and the first month of the eighth year of Yuanfeng.

Thinking of his father weeping in the Yanchun Pavilion, and even with a headache and injured foot, still persisting in making arrangements for him, Zhao Xu's hand, holding the brush, began to tremble, and tears began to well up in his eyes.

The characters he wrote began to deform.

But Zhao Xu continued to copy, writing meticulously and neatly.

More memories flooded his mind like a torrent.

His father lying in bed.

His father nodding continuously behind the curtain.

His father, who saw his once close inner minister betray him.

Zhao Xu's tear ducts were moistened, and tears began to flow down his cheeks.

Because he remembered his previous life.

At that time, he knew nothing.

He was even led to the Funing Hall, where he saw his father, the Emperor, lying on the imperial bed, unable to speak, but he only felt fear, panic, and terror.

He did not know what his father had done for him or the pain he had endured.

Tears fell from his cheeks one by one.

Zhao Xu was completely immersed in his emotions, losing himself.

"Father, oh Father..."

"My previous life was unworthy, leading to the loss of our home and country, the collapse of our state, and the trampling of your life's work, which has been defamed for hundreds of years!"

"Heaven has shown mercy, giving me a chance to start over!"

"In this life, I will surely carry on your legacy and revitalize your foundation!"

"Let our Song Dynasty shine again, and let our state flourish!"

...

After finishing copying the scroll of Buddhist scriptures, Zhao Xu picked up the brush, dipped it in ink, and respectfully wrote at the end: "Your humble servant, the Prince of Yan'an, Yong, has written the Disaster Relief Sutra for the Emperor, who has been taking medicine for a long time, praying for his recovery."

Then he wrote beside it: "May the Empress Dowager live a long life, the Empress live a thousand years, and the Consort live a long and happy life."

After writing, Zhao Xu wiped his tears and instructed, "Feng Jing, quickly grind the ink for me!"

But he did not hear Feng Jing's response or see him come forward.

Zhao Xu turned his head.

He saw the two women who had changed his fate and shaped his previous life.

Empress Dowager Gao and Empress Xiang.

One was his grandmother, and the other was his legal mother.

Despite being prepared, Zhao Xu could not hide his inner agitation.

His lips trembled, his eyelids twitched, his mouth was dry, and his voice was stuttering.

"Empress Dowager, Empress..."

Zhao Xu tried to calm himself and control his emotions.

But his legs were still trembling uncontrollably.

Especially when he saw Empress Dowager Gao.

His body had an instinctive reaction.

It was a response etched in his soul.

In modern terms, it was PTSD!

For ten years, in his previous life, Zhao Xu struggled and feared under the shadow of his grandmother!

From the eighth year of Yuanfeng to the ninth year of Yuanyou!

Only after this grandmother passed away did Zhao Xu finally put aside his worries and fears and finally reclaim what was rightfully his.

Taking a deep breath, Zhao Xu moved forward and fell into Empress Xiang's arms.

Then he began to sob and cry.

"Wah, wah, wah... Empress... Empress... Wah, wah, wah..."

"Sixth Brother is so scared!"

This left Empress Xiang at a loss.

Unlike Empress Dowager Gao, who was raised by Empress Cisheng Guangxian and was childhood friends with Emperor Yingzong, Empress Xiang had no deep feelings with the Zhao family before marrying into the royal family.

After marriage, they were merely respectful to each other.

The Emperor respected her, but did not like her.

She understood why.

Empress Xiang was two years older than the Emperor. When they married, the Emperor was still Prince Ying, at the age of eighteen, while she was already twenty.

Moreover, Empress Xiang's beauty was only average.

She married the Emperor purely because Empress Cisheng Guangxian liked her and chose her.

The Emperor, known for his filial piety, did not want to go against the Empress Dowager's wishes.

After nineteen years of ups and downs in the palace, and the early deaths of her two children,

Empress Xiang had already let go and had no desires or demands.

To be honest, if it were not for the Emperor's illness, the instability of the state, and the unusual activities among the imperial family, ministers, and the inner palace,

Empress Xiang would rather stay in the Kunning Hall, eating vegetarian food and praying for the well-being of her two children.

In previous years, unless it was a festival, the palace's concubines, princes, and princesses would not see Empress Xiang, their legal mother.

So, at this moment, Empress Xiang was truly at a loss.

After a while, she came to her senses, reached out, and hugged the Sixth Prince who had suddenly fallen into her arms.

She comforted him softly, "Sixth Brother, don't be afraid! Sixth Brother, don't be afraid! Mother is here! Mother is here!"

Her eyes reddened.

Holding the child in her arms, Empress Xiang thought of her own child who had died young.

Her son, who had not even opened his eyes.

He was so small, so pitiful in his swaddling clothes.

"If my son were still alive, he would probably be like Sixth Brother, crying in my arms, asking me to protect him!"

"Empress... Empress..." The child in her arms clung to her tightly, his tears wetting her chest.

Empress Xiang could not help but shed tears, holding the child and responding, "Sixth Brother, Mother is here! Mother is here!"

The people around them watched this scene with stunned eyes, then began to shed tears and feel moved.

Empress Dowager Gao also could not help but shed tears.

She thought of the story between the Emperor and her aunt, Empress Dowager Cisheng Guangxian.

Although they were not blood-related,

They were far more than blood-related!

The Emperor's filial piety and dedication to Empress Dowager Cisheng Guangxian were praised by everyone in the palace.

After the Empress Dowager passed away, the Emperor would visit the Yanchun Pavilion on her birthday and death anniversary, offering incense and tributes.

On ordinary days, he would also visit the Yanchun Pavilion, often shedding tears when he saw the Empress Dowager's relics.

"Truly a good child!" Empress Dowager Gao could not help but say.

She stepped forward and looked at the copied Buddhist scriptures.

Especially the words at the end.

"Your humble servant, the Prince of Yan'an, Yong, has written the Disaster Relief Sutra for the Emperor, who has been taking medicine for a long time, praying for his recovery!"

"May the Empress Dowager live a long life, the Empress live a thousand years, and the Consort live a long and happy life!"

Other things could be taught,

But this filial piety and intention, who could teach?

Moreover, Empress Dowager Gao had personally seen her grandson, while copying the scriptures, shed tears.

Although his face was wet with tears, his writing never stopped.

This could only mean one thing: the Emperor and Sixth Brother were equally filial!

No one knew that at this moment, the corners of the Prince of Yan'an's mouth, who was sobbing in Empress Xiang's arms, were slightly curled up.

His plan.

The plan that had formed in his mind when he opened his eyes in the Qingning Palace and returned to his youth, had taken a solid and reliable step forward!

He had seized the throat of his fate!

Empress!

Empress Dowager Gao could rule behind the curtain.

Why couldn't Empress Xiang?

Two empresses ruling behind the curtain would provide a balance!

The best part was that Empress Xiang had no desire for power.

...

(End of Chapter)