Chapter 2

Announcing good news is an art.

For example, if someone has a big, healthy baby boy and the midwife rushes out to share the joy, that’s nothing special.

But if that healthy boy is strikingly handsome, with features resembling the charming youth next door with rosy lips and white teeth, then announcing the news requires more care.

As for the announcement Wang Fu and Cai You made, it demanded particular linguistic finesse, because, in essence, it wasn’t truly “good news” yet—it was a matter requiring the highest decision-maker of the Song Dynasty to make a choice.

Of course, the ruler seldom makes such decisions alone. After all, he commands the entire realm and naturally has the nation’s most brilliant and eloquent minds advising him. They surround him, each striving to say just the right thing.

At this moment, such a group was gathered around the sovereign.

Among them, the venerable Xuantong, who had lived through two cycles of sixty years—over a hundred years old—flicked his whisk dismissively. “Brother, you possess great fortune, a harmony between heaven and man, yet these vulgar mortals come to disturb you.”

Another elder with a youthful face and white hair smiled gently. “Brother, you enjoy wealth and honor, seated in peace for ten thousand years. Why trouble yourself with worldly affairs?”

“Indeed, indeed!” a third elder added, casting a sidelong glance at the pale-faced eunuch. “We brothers await your ascension to the heavens, to broaden our horizons together. Mortals, begone!”

Though dressed as a Taoist priest, the pale eunuch was still treated as a mere mortal. Yet he remained unflustered, not offended, only wearing a pitiful expression as he looked carefully at the sovereign.

“Though these are mundane matters, I beg you, true immortal, to consider the ministers’ filial intentions.”

His humble, supplicating tone seemed to plead with the sovereign. His pitiful eyes scanned the immortals, as if begging for their mercy, or for their help in persuading the sovereign not to focus solely on celestial concerns, for the affairs of the mortal realm still required his guidance.

The immortals arrogantly lifted their chins, disdain evident on their faces.

Nearby, a celestial child resembling a mere backdrop wobbled slightly, stepping forward as if to say something.

At last, one immortal sighed deeply:

“Brother, you may ascend without moving, yet in this lifetime you bear the karma of the Zhao family, destined to grant the world a hundred years of peace and prosperity. This is your fate. What is a hundred or eighty more years?”

Such words were skillfully spoken, finally softening the stern expression of Brother Yuqing, who had remained unmoved by the news.

“What joy have I? I only hope the people live in peace, and that the Song Dynasty’s reign lasts ten thousand years,” he said slowly, rising. His hemp robe fluttered gently in the breeze, his demeanor truly transcendent, with an aura of immortality. “I alone have long seen through illusion and truth; there is no joy left to celebrate for me.”

They were all deeply moved. More flattery followed, leaving only the celestial child silently opening her mouth for a long time, unable to utter a single word.

In truth, if pressed, she might speak, but flattery eluded her. She could only manage words heavy with ancestral weight—after all, the sovereign’s hemp robe shone brilliantly in the sunlight, the silken threads within shimmering softly. Interwoven threads of varying hues formed the image of a majestic dragon moving amidst the clouds. When sunlight struck, the dragon’s head emerged, its eyes flashing like lightning as it surveyed all beings below.

A hemp robe worth tens of thousands of strings of cash—no ordinary garment.

The immortals wasted many words, but not in vain. Just as Wang Fu and Cai You approached, Brother Yuqing waved his hand, distributing trivial gifts to his disciples—mere token offerings, such as building a few more Taoist temples for their cultivation, and marking the lands around. Such mundane tasks were unworthy of immortals and better left to someone like Li Yan. The eunuchs around the sovereign, each with hands skilled at seizing wealth and land, would surely handle it flawlessly, ensuring no complaints from the common folk.

As for the funds to build the temples? What funds? How mundane! The Song Dynasty had plenty of money; spending a few hundred thousand strings of cash was nothing.

The immortals departed lightly, their feet not even touching the ground, ready to ride on clouds. Seeing this scene, the two ministers’ smiles deepened.

A truly joyous occasion!

“Zhang Jue has dealt a crushing defeat to Wanyan Jamu’s forces at Rabbit Ear Mountain, beheading tens of thousands. Even the Jin chieftain Wanyan Jamu barely escaped with his life!” Minister Wang laughed. “Poor Zhang Jue sent this report in haste before even finishing the battlefield tally!”

The dispatch was presented, but before the sovereign could read it, a young girl standing nearby suddenly asked,

“Is Zhang Jue our Song general?”

The sovereign continued reading silently, maintaining an inscrutable air. Wang and Minister Cai exchanged glances and observed the girl’s expression discreetly.

“He is not a Song subject, but a Han Chinese whose heart has long been with the Song.”

“So he’s not a Song general,” the girl tagged the fact, then asked another question, “He defeated the Jin. Are the Jin our enemies?”

This was a complicated matter. Minister Wang paused thoughtfully. “Though the Jin have an alliance with us, they are barbarians, not our kin, and do they keep their promises?”

“Then this battle by Zhang Jue,” the girl asked a third time, “will it make the Jin tremble and never dare to attack again, or will it anger them to send a more cunning general?”

Neither Minister Wang nor Minister Cai answered, as if momentarily silenced.

Finally, the sovereign finished reading the report and smiled at them. “What do you think of Princess Ji, truly?”

The ministers’ silence lifted instantly. “Even the immortal child!”

The sovereign laughed heartily, clearly pleased.

Zhang Jue’s background could be summarized simply: a Han Chinese from the Liao dynasty who, as Liao suffered defeats to the Jin, betrayed them and joined the Jin. Later, when the Jin conquered vast lands and populations, he again switched allegiance secretly to the Song, seeking a third patron.

Now a simple question stood before them: The Song and Jin had signed the “Maritime Alliance,” fighting side by side against Liao. Now you harbor a Jin traitor. How do you explain that?

The celestial child stood beside him, the two ministers before him, and the eunuch disguised as a Taoist at his side—eight pairs of eyes fixed on the sovereign, awaiting his judgment.

The sovereign stroked his meticulously groomed, ethereal beard. “I merely pity the northern folk’s century of hardship; today, they finally see their parents again.”

As he spoke, his smile faded. His slender, gentle eyes dropped slightly, lashes fluttering softly, revealing a profound compassion.

“Give him some silk and gold,” he decided, “and grant him the title of military governor.”

The celestial child silently clenched her fist.

The two ministers exchanged triumphant glances.

“The sovereign is merciful,” Minister Cai said with a smile, “News like this surely calls for celebration among the people!”

“Near the birthday of Erlang at Shenbao Temple, allow the people three days of uninterrupted lanterns,” the sovereign said calmly. “But do not be extravagant. Cultivating immortality while living in the world means cherishing blessings above all.”

The two ministers bowed together. “Without the guidance of True Immortal Yuqing, how could we common folk enjoy such peace and opportunity to serve?”

“We are, after all, sovereign and ministers,” the sovereign smiled. “Such words sound mundane.”

The ministers departed. The sovereign turned and found the celestial child still standing there.

“Oh?” he asked gently.

She looked at him with blank eyes.

“You’ve returned at last,” his voice softened. “Would you like to visit your mother’s palace and play with your sisters for a few days?”

“Father,” she said, “if you truly reward Zhang Jue, you must not abandon him later. The ministers love to advise such things—”

Her father’s face darkened immediately.

“Liang Erqi!” he called to the pale eunuch. “Take the princess back to the palace at once!”

Zhao Luming’s first remonstrance had failed.

Though unsuccessful, the situation was not without hope. The eunuch, clearly a disciple of Master Liang Shicheng, had returned her to the carriage, but after wandering the city half a day, she was helped down again near Genyue Gate.

There stood Liang Erqi, the pale eunuch, flanked by two young attendants in blue robes, smiling broadly as he bowed in a Taoist salute.

“Celestial Child, great joy!”

“Father listened to me?” she asked hopefully.

“Today your status is confirmed, and joyful news keeps arriving. Another happiness comes from the south!” Liang Erqi exclaimed. “Wei Yuan Military Governor Zhu Gong’s promotion to Marquis of Pangu, after countless hardships, has finally arrived outside Bianjing! The sovereign, delighted, plans to bestow great rewards upon you as well!”

The celestial child was confused. “Marquis of Pangu? Who is that?”

“You jest!” Liang Erqi said happily. “He’s a Taihu stone over four zhang tall!”

Indeed, it was a Taihu stone, the Marquis of Pangu, standing over thirteen meters tall. It required a massive ship and thousands of laborers to transport. Passing any city, they dismantled water gates and bridges; if the city was too small to allow passage, they broke through the walls. The stone could not bow. You may imagine the scene.

Now outside Bianjing, the populace flocked to watch—not only the stone and the ship, but especially the laborers straining to dismantle the city’s sluices.

Such a spectacle! Such excitement! How could this not be considered great news?

After his lively account, Liang Erqi watched the celestial child’s reaction.

Ordinarily, a little child hearing such news would be delighted! Everyone loves a spectacle! Who would refuse honors and rewards? Especially since the sovereign doted on this princess, forgiving her candid words and eager to grant her grand titles, each accompanied by generous lands. She only needed to follow the tradition of announcing joyous news; even a three-year-old could utter auspicious phrases. So why the scowl?

Not only did the princess scowl, but her fists clenched tightly.