Chapter 14: Adding Some Fierce Flavor

Li Cheng had just revealed the truth about the division of the Song Dynasty into Northern and Southern periods to Zhao Kuangyin and Zhao Dezhao.

During their first meeting, the situation had been fraught with peril; one wrong move could have led Zhao Kuangyin to brand him a charlatan and execute him on the spot. Back then, he had been careful to frame everything in the most flattering light. Now, however, the circumstances had shifted—he had already begun to earn Zhao Kuangyin’s trust. Furthermore, seeing how Zhao Kuangyin had brandished his jade axe the moment he arrived to intimidate him, Li Cheng felt it would be a disservice not to hit him with some harder truths.

After speaking, Li Cheng closely observed the reactions of father and son.

Zhao Dezhao was stunned, his expression shifting dramatically. It was clear he had never imagined that the three hundred and nineteen years of imperial legacy—something he had taken such pride in—was actually the combined total of two separate Song eras. His father’s dynasty had been split in two!

*Good,* Li Cheng thought. *That is the reaction I was looking for.* He shifted his focus to Zhao Kuangyin, expecting an even more spectacular reaction.

To his surprise, Zhao Kuangyin remained entirely unruffled. Instead, he showed a look of sudden realization and nodded.

"That makes sense. I kept wondering how the Song Dynasty I founded could possibly last so long, even longer than the Tang. So, it was divided into two."

"Your Majesty, are you not surprised?" Li Cheng couldn't help but ask.

Zhao Kuangyin shook his head. "Why should I be? Since the fall of the Tang, we have seen warlords in constant conflict—Zhu Wen, Li Cunxu, Shi Jingtang, Liu Zhiyuan, Guo Wei... Every one of them was a hero to rise above the chaos and seize the throne. Can anyone like that be simple? Yet, the dynasties they founded all vanished in the blink of an eye. As you said before, the dynasties established by those five men didn’t even add up to sixty years. Now, learning that my Song Dynasty lasted for three hundred and nineteen years—even with the setbacks of a split—far exceeds their records and my own expectations. Why should I be surprised?"

These were Zhao Kuangyin’s honest thoughts. Since the Chenqiao Mutiny, he had occupied the throne with an air of immense power, but in reality, he had been walking on thin ice. His deepest fear was that the Song would suffer the same fate as its predecessors, losing the empire and seeing his own kin slaughtered by usurpers. To learn now that his dynasty had not followed that path, but had endured for so many years, was a revelation that far exceeded his hopes. If that meant it had to be divided into two, so be it.

Li Cheng was left speechless. The "Big Boss" Zhao actually made a fair point.

"Are you not curious why the Song would split into North and South?"

Zhao Kuangyin laughed carelessly. "What is there to be curious about? It is nothing more than the inevitable decline that comes with generations of succession. Eventually, the state becomes riddled with corruption, the court filled with incompetent rulers and treacherous ministers, while external enemies loom and natural disasters strike. That is how empires are lost. The Tang was at the height of its glory, yet after the Kaiyuan era, it plunged into ruin—its capital fell six times, and the Emperor fled nine. Successive emperors were controlled by eunuchs, their very lives held in the hands of those creatures. They were emperors in name only, puppets in reality. After Zhu Wen destroyed the Tang, no member of the Li clan rose to restore the glory; it was the end. Even the mighty Han had to endure Wang Mang’s usurpation before the Restoration of Guangwu, which extended the Han mandate to four hundred years through the Western and Eastern periods. If my Song split into North and South, it only means that after a period of calamity and a temporary loss of the state, my descendants possessed the resolve and courage to rise up and restore the dynasty, far surpassing the Tang. Like the great Han, we produced a hero like Emperor Guangwu. I should be rejoicing, not grieving! How many dynasties throughout history have enjoyed such longevity? How many have seen their scions rise from the ashes to reclaim the ancestral temples?"

Zhao Kuangyin had been sitting, but as he spoke, he rose unconsciously. With his left hand behind his back and his right thumbing the jade axe, his pride and joy radiated from him. Li Cheng had clearly overestimated his ability to rattle the Emperor.

Seeing the boy look so bewildered by his reaction, Zhao Kuangyin felt even better.

Li Cheng blinked. *Wait... how did this turn out completely the opposite of what I expected?* Yet, reflecting on Zhao Kuangyin’s words, he found them remarkably logical. Seeing the bold, spirited, and jubilant Zhao Kuangyin, Li Cheng took a deep breath. The "Big Boss" was in a great state of mind; he hoped it would last. He only wished that when the time came for Zhao Kuangyin to learn of the Jingkang Incident and how Zhao Gou—the man he likened to the "Guangwu of the Song"—had established the Southern Song, he would still be able to laugh.

"Your Majesty’s insight is profound. I underestimated you!" Li Cheng bowed.

At this moment, he truly knew not what else to say.

"Haha..." Zhao Kuangyin laughed twice, clearly pleased by Li Cheng’s acknowledgment.

Zhao Dezhao, who had initially been shocked by the news, found his anxieties dissipating after hearing his father’s words. He realized his father was right; he had been overthinking. Throughout history, there had never been an eternal dynasty. If the Song could last for three hundred and nineteen years, even divided, that was a rare achievement. The Tang could not be restored, but the Song had produced someone like the Han’s Guangwu to rebuild the house of Song—that was more than enough! His heart burned with new ambition.

Looking through history, long-lasting dynasties rarely passed the throne to brothers; it was always to sons. The Song would be no exception. The prosperity and strength of the three-hundred-year Song would surely draw the eyes of the world. With the Southern Tang now extinguished, there were no major powers left in the south besides the Qian family of Wuyue. The south was essentially pacified. As for Northern Han, though they acted as puppets for the Khitan, they were merely a tiny speck of land. His father had long ago set the strategy with Zhao Pu: "Pacify the south first, then the north." With the south secure and his father in the prime of his life, conquering Northern Han and reclaiming the Sixteen Prefectures of Yanyun would be effortless. Generals like Cao Bin and Pan Mei could well become the Wei Qing or Huo Qubing of the Song—driving deep into the north, sealing the mountains, and watering their horses in the northern seas!

With no powers left to threaten the Song, his father need not worry about usurpers after his passing. The throne would surely go to him. He would be the second emperor of the Song; if his father was the Taizu, then he would be the Taizong! As this thought took hold, the heavy stone that had long been weighing on his heart vanished, and he felt a sense of profound relief. His third uncle would never be able to contest the throne against him!

Zhao Kuangyin glanced at his son, pondered for a moment, and turned his gaze back to Li Cheng to speak once more.