The Kingdom That Never Sleeps CH 136 Who In This World Did Not Love Zhao Xuan!
Ji Wengji spoke in a calm, measured voice, uttering each treasonous and heart-piercing statement as if the surface of a tranquil lake, undisturbed by the breeze, yet concealing raging waves beneath. With every word he spoke, Zhao Fu’s expression twisted further, his eyes nearly bursting with fury as he glared at Ji Wengji, murder in his gaze.
Yet, as Ji Wengji finished his words, Zhao Fu suddenly relaxed.
He let out a soft chuckle, reached for another teacup on the table, and with a loud bang, hurled it against a nearby pillar.
The blue and white porcelain shattered into countless pieces.
Ji Wengji did not spare the broken teacup a single glance.
The emperor’s voice was firm and resounding, like a thunderclap: “Chong Ming, you truly disappoint me. In your heart, am I such an emperor?”
Prime Minister Ji lifted his gaze and earnestly replied, “In my eyes, Your Majesty is the most enlightened ruler since the founding of the Great Song.”
Zhao Fu said, “Yet I cannot tell—how much sincerity lies in your words?”
Ji Wengji responded, “Absolute sincerity.”
Zhao Fu was momentarily speechless. He sighed. “Then why have you come to the palace today?”
Ji Wengji replied, “I cannot bear to see a tragedy repeat itself.”
Zhao Fu fell into a long silence. “Thirty-two years ago… I recall that Chong Ming was not in Shengjing. Where were you then? Let me think…”
“I was in the northwest, battling the Liao army.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right—you were in Youzhou, with the Grand Preceptor. The Grand Preceptor often praised you before the late emperor, saying you were a rare talent, fit to be both a general and a minister.” Zhao Fu showed a puzzled expression. “You were not in Shengjing, you were neither a supporter of the former crown prince nor of the Songqing Party… so what does this matter have to do with you?”
Ji Wengji suddenly fell silent. Instead, he changed the subject. “I believe I have finally come to understand Your Majesty.”
Zhao Fu raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it that you understand?”
“You have never changed. It was I who was pedantic. I once did not understand—if all three princes were to die at Zhaode Gate, then what would become of this Great Song, the empire you fought so hard to seize? But now I do understand. You care for this empire only because it is yours. If it ceases to be yours, then whether it belongs to Zhao Shang, Zhao Jing, or Zhao Ji—or even Zhao Ao or Zhao Qiong—what does it matter to you?”
Zhao Fu’s lips trembled slightly.
Ji Wengji continued, “The Song-Liao treaty was the achievement of Emperor Kaiping. The prosperity of this era is due to Emperor Kaiping’s efforts. You have never shied away from hardship. You built three great roads, toiled endlessly for the people, and—unless gravely ill—you have never missed a morning court session in thirty-two years. Never has the Great Song seen an emperor as diligent as you. You have lived an immensely harsh life, like an ascetic monk, but even worse than one.”
Zhao Fu’s expression became indescribable. He straightened his back in agitation and called out, “Chong Ming.”
Ji Wengji sighed. “Paper money—it is so difficult to implement. Yet despite everything, you have never given up. The Great Song is fortunate to have you, as are its officials and its people. I have served two emperors in my life, but I have only had one true sovereign—and that is you.”
Zhao Fu said gravely, “In court, I have always known that you are the one who understands me best.”
Ji Wengji looked him in the eye and said, “And so you seek to prove that even if you seized the throne through patricide and fratricide, you were not wrong. If Zhao Shang, Zhao Jing, and Zhao Ji repeat the same history—if anyone else were in your place—they would make the same choices and act just as you did.”
Zhao Fu asked, “Was I wrong?”
Ji Wengji answered, “You were not wrong. No need to repeat history—you were never wrong.”
Zhao Fu closed his eyes, holding back the heat welling up in them.
“But neither was the former crown prince wrong. Nor were Zhao Shang, Zhao Jing, or Zhao Ji. Who, then, was truly at fault?” Ji Wengji spoke slowly. “You are an enlightened ruler. And you are also a selfish, solitary monarch. Your Majesty, I can no longer walk this road with you. You have always walked alone. I have now come to understand something else.”
Zhao Fu did not grow angry this time. He smiled faintly at Ji Wengji and asked, “What is it?”
“If this were a year ago, you would never have acted in such a way. You are beginning to doubt yourself. You hesitate; you fear. Is it the Empress Dowager’s death that has made you afraid of the afterlife? Made you worry about descending into hell upon your death?”
Zhao Fu’s smile froze.
He did not need to answer. Ji Wengji could already see everything in his expression. He bowed respectfully and said, “Your Majesty, as the victor, why dwell on meaningless matters and people? You are who you are, and there are countless matters awaiting Your Majesty to dispel illusions and forge new paths.”
Silence engulfed Funing Palace.
After a long time, Zhao Fu finally spoke. “You may go.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“…Wait.”
Ji Wengji stopped and turned back toward the solitary yet brilliant emperor.
Zhao Fu smiled. “Chong Ming, you were mistaken about one thing. Zhao Jing and Zhao Ji may be like Zhao Xuan, but I… I was never like Zhao Shang.”
Ji Wengji’s eyes dilated.
Zhao Fu continued, “That question I asked—you have yet to answer it. Thirty-two years ago, none of this had anything to do with you. Today, I thought of many people, even Wang Quan—I even considered that he might come to the palace. But I never thought that it would be you. Why did you come? Why do it?”
Ji Wengji’s heart was a stormy sea. He gazed solemnly at the emperor before him. For decades, through trials and tribulations, he had believed he understood this man better than anyone. Yet, in the end, he had misjudged his heart.
But could anyone truly comprehend the heart of an emperor?
After contemplating, Ji Wengji finally spoke. “Your Majesty said I was neither of the former crown prince’s faction nor of the Songqing Party.”
Zhao Fu’s expression shifted slightly. He feigned composure. “Was I mistaken?”
Ji Wengji said, “Your Majesty was not wrong. I was merely a second-rank jinshi—how could I have ever joined the Songqing Party, or gained the former crown prince’s favor? But that year, after achieving honors in the imperial examination, at the Qionglin Banquet, I—a poor scholar—became intoxicated and made a fool of myself. My fellow scholars ridiculed me in secret, yet one person helped steady my drunken form and told me, ‘A true talent asks not of origins.’”
Zhao Fu already knew who that person was. Beneath his dragon robe, his fists clenched tightly.
Ji Wengji looked at him deeply and smiled. “Your Majesty, who in this world did not love Zhao Xuan!”
Ji Wengji turned and left.
As he departed, the sound of porcelain shattering rang through Funing Palace, echoing on and on.
When Ji Wengji left the palace, he happened to run into the Minister of Justice, Geng Shaoyun, who had just arrived for an audience. Seeing him, Geng Shaoyun was greatly surprised and respectfully greeted him. Ji Wengji returned the courtesy but said nothing.
Geng Shaoyun waited outside Funing Palace for a long time before Zhao Fu finally summoned him in.
Upon entering, Geng Shaoyun was shocked by the sight of shattered porcelain covering the floor. He remained calm as he walked toward the inner hall and respectfully bowed. Zhao Fu glanced at him weakly, then spoke with deep sorrow, "Wang Qing, my heart is disappointed!"
On the ninth day of the first month, the grand farce of the palace coup finally came to an end.
The treacherous monk Shanting had deceived the emperor and disrupted the court, seizing the opportunity to rebel while the emperor was gravely ill. He was thrown into the imperial prison, awaiting execution. Left Prime Minister Ji Wengji had secretly colluded with the monk, attempting to overthrow the throne. In consideration of his years of service to the nation, he was stripped of his office but allowed to retire in peace.
The Fourth Prince, Zhao Jing, and the Fifth Prince, Zhao Ji, had been misled by traitors, leading to chaos in the capital. Their official positions were revoked, and they were ordered to reflect on their mistakes behind closed doors.
Xu Bi was promoted to Left Prime Minister, Geng Shaoyun to Vice Right Prime Minister, and Right Vice Minister of Personnel Yu Chaosheng to Minister of Justice.
This wave of promotions and demotions left the court in turmoil. But what surprised everyone most was the emperor’s decision to recall Zhao Jing, the Governor of Qinzhou, to the capital and appoint him as Right Vice Minister of Personnel, a prestigious third-rank position.
Zhao Jing had been one of Ji Wengji’s most promising protégés. Yet, while his mentor had been stripped of power, Zhao Jing had finally emerged from hardship, returning to the capital to take office.
On the sixteenth day of the first month, during the first grand morning court assembly of Kaiping Year 32, officials gathered in Zichen Hall. Among them, Tang Shen spotted Zhao Jing, who had traveled thousands of miles from Qinzhou back to the capital.
The emperor’s health still seemed frail. After the chaotic palace coup, he appeared even older, but his gaze was sharper than ever. At this point, who could still believe he was on his deathbed? A dying emperor would not have suddenly awakened in the midst of a coup and seized control with such precision.
Some officials had already pieced together parts of the truth, while others remained in the dark, trembling in fear and reverence.
During the court session, Zhao Fu spoke briefly about the events of the previous month, brushing past them as if they were of little consequence.
Xu Bi, now leading the civil officials, stepped forward with the ministers to formally offer congratulations for the prosperity and stability of Kaiping Year 32.
After the court session ended, Tang Shen finally got a clear look at Zhao Jing.
Four years ago, Zhao Jing had been demoted from a second-rank minister to a lowly fourth-rank governor of Qinzhou due to his failure in overseeing the Revenue And Expenditure Department. Now, he had returned to the capital as a third-rank minister. Yet, Ji Wengji’s faction had fallen from power, and Zhao Jing’s hair had also turned gray. Though only in his forties, he looked like a man well past sixty.
Tang Shen felt like a lone boat drifting upon a vast, turbulent sea.
The next day, just as Tang Shen returned home from court, a steward from the Right Prime Minister’s residence arrived to summon him.
Surprised, Tang Shen asked, "The Right Prime Minister is waiting for me at his residence?"
The steward smiled. "You’ll know once you arrive."
Puzzled, Tang Shen followed him. But soon, he realized that the carriage was not heading toward the Right Prime Minister’s residence in the east of the city. Instead, it moved southward, leaving the capital entirely.
As the carriage swayed along the road, they eventually arrived at the Ten-Mile Pavilion outside the city. Stepping out, Tang Shen saw Right Prime Minister Wang Quan already waiting, dressed in a plain black robe.
Tang Shen immediately approached and greeted him, "Uncle, what is the matter?"
Wang Quan did not answer immediately. He looked Tang Shen up and down and remarked, "I was too hasty in calling you here. I forgot you’d still be wearing your official robes. Today’s meeting is a private one—I should have prepared a black robe for you as well. Do you know that the Wang family’s sons prefer to wear black?"
Tang Shen hesitated, then replied, "...Yes, I know."
Just as Wang Quan was about to speak, he noticed a carriage approaching from the direction of the capital. He murmured, "He has arrived." Striding toward the main road, Tang Shen followed him.
The carriage came to a slow stop. The occupant lifted the curtain, momentarily surprised to see Wang Quan. "Prime Minister Wang?"
Wang Quan bowed slightly. "Prime Minister Ji."
Ji Wengji stepped down from the carriage and returned the gesture. "A criminal official like me has no right to such a title." He then glanced at Tang Shen.
Tang Shen immediately saluted him.
Wang Quan chuckled. "If that is so, then why should I, dressed in black, still be called Prime Minister?"
The two men exchanged a look and laughed.
For years, the Ji and Wang factions had been rivals in court. They were not sworn enemies, yet they had always been political adversaries. Who would have thought that now, outside the city at the Ten-Mile Pavilion, Ji Wengji and Wang Quan would be conversing so freely, laughter ringing in the air?
Tang Shen remained uncertain. He did not understand why Wang Quan had brought him here, but he stood quietly to the side, listening without speaking a word.
As the sun began to set, Ji Wengji finally said, "It is getting late; I should take my leave."
Wang Quan clasped his hands together. "Safe travels."
Ji Wengji turned to Tang Shen again and suddenly remarked, "This reminds me of something."
Wang Quan asked, "Oh? What is it?"
Ji Wengji mused, "At the New Year’s banquet in the palace, any of the three princes could have been chosen. Yet, His Majesty specifically picked the Second Prince, Zhao Shang."
Tang Shen’s heart jolted, but he remained composed, focusing intently as Ji Wengji continued.
"Was it a random choice, selecting an innocent man as a scapegoat? Or… was it because he is the eldest son? The eldest son, who reminded His Majesty of someone—someone who burdens him with guilt, leading him to make that choice?"
Ji Wengji suddenly paused, then chuckled. "Ah, am I rambling again? Brother De Zhan, don’t mind me. Ever since I was misled by that treacherous monk, I often find myself speaking nonsense. Pay it no heed."
Wang Quan smiled. "Of course not. What did you say just now?"
Tang Shen calmly replied, "Ji daren did not say anything."
Ji Wengji and Wang Quan both turned to look at him, their gazes filled with approval. Tang Shen kept his eyes lowered, his expression steady.
Ji Wengji chuckled and pointed at Tang Shen’s official robes. "I had thought Tang daren should be wearing black as well."
Tang Shen’s eyelid twitched slightly.
Wang Quan burst into laughter. "Every generation must forge its own path. Brother Chong Ming, we shall meet again. Farewell!"
"Farewell!"