Chapter 9

The Crown Princess Zhu, also known as Empress Renhuai Zhu Lian, is recorded in history as a savior of the Zhao Song royal family’s dignity.

The method of salvation was simple. Her husband, her father-in-law, and countless descendants of the Zhao family endured humiliation, submitting petitions to the Jin invaders—those captured were subjects, and even those not captured could still serve as subjects in words—and while they complacently clung to their fragile survival bought at the cost of their dignity, Zhu Lian could no longer bear it.

She once attempted to hang herself and was rescued, then later threw herself into a well, ending her life with a fierce and resolute determination.

But the current Crown Princess was not that angry and desperate warrior. In the prime of her youth, she enjoyed a peaceful life and was more than willing to fulfill the duties her status demanded.

As she walked along the palace path, she naturally signaled her maids to step back a few paces, creating space for her to chat affectionately with her younger sister-in-law. Thus, the crown princess’s maids halted their steps, and the maids of the imperial princess also had no choice but to stop.

“Yuwen Zan’s tutor may be leaving the capital soon,” she said slowly as she walked leisurely.

“He is a very good teacher,” Zhao Luming replied, “It is my misfortune not to have had more chances to learn from him.”

The Crown Princess turned her head slightly, casting her a gentle glance.

“Zan’s tutor said that even if he can no longer teach the imperial princess, it doesn’t matter. The Eastern Palace still has many learned scholars,” she said. “If you have any doubts in your studies, just send someone with a letter.”

“If I send a letter to the Eastern Palace,” the princess hesitated, “won’t there be those who are suspicious or jealous?”

The Crown Princess seemed to snort coldly, “To be feared by a mere little girl like you is truly shameful.”

Her footsteps suddenly halted, and a dozen or so maids behind her hurriedly stopped as well.

“As for the matter of Zhang Jue, though I do not know the full truth, it is after all a national affair,” she said. “Only sycophants and treacherous men would refuse to ease the worries of their sovereign and instead harbor sinister plots and rebellious intentions.”

This conversation was reckless and presumptuous, especially inappropriate for a sister-in-law to say to her younger sister-in-law.

When the Crown Princess received her duties, the Crown Prince likely never instructed her to such an extent. She probably played the role of a virtuous and silent saintess in the palace day to day, but encountering someone even bolder and more reckless than herself, she occasionally spoke her mind.

On one hand, it brought them closer; on the other, it relieved some pressure and restored her sanity. After all, who wouldn’t be weighed down by such a sovereign who was careless in both state and family matters?

But regardless of whom the Crown Princess’s words were meant for, Zhao Luming felt her favorability toward her rise sharply.

“Brother and sister-in-law are wholeheartedly devoted to Father and the Song dynasty. Though I live a quiet life, I understand this well,” she said, grasping the Crown Princess’s hand. “Though young, I too wish to share some of the worries.”

The Crown Princess also held her hand, her large, calm, and affectionate eyes reddening at the edges.

“You…” she hesitated, “Though I came looking for you, you should still take better care of yourself.”

“It’s nothing, sister-in-law,” Zhao Luming cut short the precarious conversation. “Just watch over me these few days.”

The sovereign, who usually enjoyed the green life at Genyue, was unaware how out of touch he appeared to everyone else. In his own mind, he was remarkably dignified—exceptionally so.

Prime Minister Wang Fu offered him advice: with one joyful event after another this year and auspicious omens appearing frequently, why not celebrate? What? Wasteful and burdensome to the people?

“How can the sovereign be so frugal that even his ministers feel heartache!” Prime Minister Wang fretted anxiously. Nearby, a eunuch chimed in:

“Not only the ministers feel pain, but we servants too, seeing the sovereign dressed in plain clothes and eating no meat, our hearts ache!”

“Has there ever been such a sage sovereign in the past three generations!” Wang Fu exclaimed passionately. “If not for heavenly achievements as high as the sky, how could there be blessings as deep as the sea? The birth of the celestial child, the talismanic stone protecting the nation, the recovery of Yan and Yun, the submission of all quarters—these are clear signs!”

The sovereign enjoyed hearing this and squinted slightly. “But the birthday of the deity of the Divine Protection Temple just passed; it’s not fitting to be too extravagant.”

Moreover, the sovereign was a perfectionist. Even if praising himself, it had to be done symmetrically. The first three accomplishments were true, but the fourth was a stretch; neither the great Jin to the north nor the great Xia to the west submitted to him. Even the dying Liao could suddenly lash out at both of them. Doesn’t that bring shame to the civil and martial achievements?

Mentioning the Daoist festival of the Second Son God’s birthday, the sovereign fell into thought, while the eunuch and Prime Minister Wang exchanged knowing glances.

“It’s been days since Yo-yo was seen. If not for the delays caused by the rewards, she would have returned to Baolu Palace long ago,” the eunuch said. “Summon her to Huayang Palace.”

A palace maid had carefully taught her along the way.

Prince Yun was no fool. Coercion and temptation had to be executed naturally and beautifully, so the instructions were full of subtlety. For example, the sovereign was an astute man who could hear and guess everything. So, never rush to mention Yuwen Zan’s tutor. Wait until the sovereign asks. Only when the topic turns to studies or the earlier matter of Zhang Jue should the tutor’s name be brought up, with a few words about the Crown Prince as well.

The palace maid considered the mental capacity of the twelve-year-old princess and repeated the instructions multiple times. On the way to Genyue, she even taught her a Plan B:

“If you are too flustered and can’t say it, then don’t say it.”

“Don’t say it?” she was curious. “Doesn’t that mean I have to return the gold and silver?”

The carriage fell silent. “The imperial princess must never utter such absurd words!”

Then she wouldn’t say it.

“If the princess forgets our admonitions,” the maid said, “just put on a fearful expression and apologize to the sovereign.”

“Just apologize?” Is it really that easy? She just has to apologize and not even file a complaint? The rest is up to the sovereign’s imagination?

…On second thought, that made sense.

Such a trivial matter had dragged on for so long that no one cared about how Zhang Jue himself was rewarded or punished. From the sovereign down, everyone’s mind was consumed by this petty affair.

She still wore a green cross-collared Daoist robe, black cloth shoes, and her hair tied in a bare bun as she walked gracefully before the sovereign and bowed.

“Father.”

Father waved with a loving smile, beckoning her closer, pointing to a small round stool below and then to some snacks placed nearby.

She sat down, took a piece of snack and wrapped it in a handkerchief. Father looked surprised.

“Yo-yo, why don’t you eat?”

“What Father gives, one should not refuse. It’s just that eating alone before Father would be unfilial and disrespectful,” she said. “So I intend to take it back to eat.”

Father couldn’t help but laugh, and the young eunuchs dressed as attendants around them laughed along.

“How old are you?” he said, “And you already have such thoughts.”

She wrapped the snack and tucked it into her bosom. “Actually, I’m afraid Father would ask questions if I had crumbs all over my mouth, which would look embarrassing.”

“Would Father laugh at you?”

The princess’s eyes darted around before she said two words: “Hard to say.”

The ethereal and dignified Father laughed heartily. Nearby, Prime Minister Wang and Master Liang, both dressed as Daoists, smiled warmly.

“The imperial princess has become more cheerful these days,” Master Liang said. “Not as worried as before, more like a little lord.”

The topic shifted. If she truly planned to follow Prince Yun’s path, she would inevitably mention Yuwen Shizhong, then a few words about the Crown Prince brother.

But even if she didn’t, it wasn’t a big deal to Prince Yun’s faction—after all, Yuwen Shizhong was bound to be removed. No one expected the little princess to sever another of the Crown Prince’s arms with two words.

However, none of the ministers, eunuchs, or the steady, fishing-like Father, the Jade Pure Immortal, expected what she would say.

“I used to worry about state affairs. These past few days, I had a dream, a good omen,” she said. “So I am no longer afraid.”

Childish words, but coming from the “celestial child,” they carried a subtle meaning beyond mere childishness. The sovereign ceased smiling, squinting slightly. “Yo-yo had a dream? What kind of dream?”

She lifted her chin, and the childish expression vanished. Like a truly grown Daoist with experience and cultivation, she solemnly gazed toward the northern sky.

“I dreamed of extremely dark clouds there. Within the clouds was a monster. Its head resembled a golden dragon, but its body was like a small dog, barking incessantly as it approached me.” After finishing this, she added, “In the dream, I was truly terrified.”

Such a dream was symbolic, immediately darkening the sovereign’s expression. Even Wang Fu and Master Liang behind him ceased smiling, looking at the “celestial child” with suspicion and uncertainty, unsure what clever meaning she intended.

“And then?” The sovereign’s voice was gentle. “Surely Yo-yo must have seen something good after that.”

“The dark clouds were approaching me. When I had this dream in Baolu Palace, I dared not utter a word upon waking and never told anyone. But a few days ago in the palace, I had the same dream, and it was very different!”

“How different?”

“I dreamed that the black clouds drew closer, and the monster’s barking terrified me,” her earlier fear vanished, replaced by excitement as she pointed westward. “Suddenly, a brilliant glow appeared there!”

A glow! Auspicious seven-colored clouds! Multicolored radiance!

“I saw an immortal stepping upon the clouds, severing the monster’s head!” she declared loudly. “The dark clouds were swept away, leaving the sky clear for miles!”

Everyone brightened, at least outwardly. After all, the first half of the dream was a clear metaphor, and the good ending meant they must offer a series of congratulations to the sovereign.

The celestial child was real! The celestial child’s dreams were real! Our Great Song surely had the gods and the Jade Pure Immortal watching over us. How could we fear demons and goblins?

This was a good omen! Rumor had it that the Jin chieftain Wanyan Aguda was seriously ill—perhaps only a few days remained!

Perhaps indeed in these few days, good news would arrive! Sovereign! Should we prepare a celebration?

But was that the end of the celestial child’s dream?

The sovereign was not satisfied and asked more: What was that “west” exactly? Which household? Was there a sign at the gate? Any decorations in the courtyard?

The celestial child thought for a moment, gesturing. “It must be within the city, but many houses are connected, so I can’t remember. I only recall that when the immortal ascended the clouds, there was a jade orchid growing on the hall pillar, filling the room with a strange fragrance!”

Prime Minister Wang’s eyes suddenly lit up!

Indeed, there was such a jade orchid growing on the pillars of his family’s hall! This was known only to his family and would never reach the imperial princess’s ears—

Great fortune! Great honor! This was a good omen for Prince Yun and an auspicious sign for Wang Fu himself!

He was about to ascend to the heavens in broad daylight!