Zhuge Liang's soft sigh about punishing traitors did not go unanswered. Pang Tong nodded in agreement and said,
"Indeed. Only by campaigning and eliminating threats at the border can later generations understand what it truly means to be morally enlightened within and kingly without."
"I have never heard that raising endless taxes makes one a sage, nor that showering beasts with kindness makes one a true ruler."
Zhuge Liang smiled and shook his head. He knew Pang Tong had always been sharp-tongued. The hollow bravado of these Song officials clearly rubbed him the wrong way, so Zhuge Liang smoothly changed the subject.
"The Song suppressed the military for a century. No wonder Zong Ze died with such regret."
That scholar named Su Zhe loved criticizing Han and Tang, but Zhuge Liang felt that whether it had been the Founder of Han, Emperor Wu, or Emperor Guangwu, any one of them would have personally stood at Bianliang to defend the capital.
And if it had been the Tang emperor Li Shimin, there was no chance such a heroic minister would have been allowed to die south of the Yellow River.
No wonder history later split Song into Northern and Southern. When the capital was abandoned by choice, how could that not be national ruin?
Looking back, the Tang capital fell six times and emperors fled nine times, yet in the end they still reclaimed their capital.
Thinking of fallen capitals inevitably brought to mind Dong Zhuo burning Luoyang, darkening Zhuge Liang's mood even further.
…
Within Ganlu Hall, Li Shimin smiled and sighed to those around him.
"If I personally led the Black Armor Army, why would there be need for such cumbersome orders?"
Qin Qiong and Yuchi Jingde both knew the emperor spoke the truth.
Among all the campaigns to unify the realm, the most perilous was undoubtedly Hulao Pass against Dou Jiande.
For that battle, when he was still Prince of Qin, Li Shimin personally selected over a thousand elite cavalry from tens of thousands of troops, dressing them in black armor and dividing them into left and right wings led by Qin Qiong, Yuchi Jingde, Cheng Zhijie, and Zhai Changsun, four fierce generals.
Yuchi Jingde rarely spoke at length, but even he added,
"When Uncle Bao led the Black Armor, their edge was unmatched under Heaven."
Li Shimin followed with praise.
"The victory at Hulao Pass belonged to the Black Armor. The Black Armor's ability to break formations and shatter the enemy belonged to Uncle Bao."
Qin Qiong remembered it even more clearly. After all, his title of Duke of Yi was earned from defeating Dou Jiande.
Still, faced with such praise, he waved his hand modestly.
"That victory came from following His Majesty forward into battle. I merely fought soaked in blood to break the enemy lines."
Mentioning bloodied victories dimmed Li Shimin's smile. He turned and carefully examined the old general's complexion, then said,
"The battles at Hulao Pass and the Ming River against Liu Heita damaged your foundation. Were it not for the Medicine King's skill, we nearly parted by life and death."
Sun Simiao waved his hand, refusing credit. Qin Qiong reassured the emperor that his health was now stable and that with half a year more of rest, he could still serve the realm.
Nearby, Du Ruhui showed unconcealed regret.
"It is a pity we cannot fully read the poetry of Li Bai and Du Fu."
Fang Xuanling nodded in agreement and glanced toward one side of Ganlu Hall, where the emperor had reserved a prominent space to hang poems of Li Bai written in his own hand.
When later generations spoke of the An Lushan Rebellion, Li Bai captured the devastation of rebel armies with just a few strokes, his brush vast and forceful.
Not long ago, while welcoming the new year, they had once again seen several poems by Li Bai from later ages.
Whether it was "Do you not see the Yellow River descending from Heaven," bursting with unrestrained grandeur, or "Men today do not see the ancient moon, yet the moon once shone on the ancients," which moved Ganlu Hall to recall Zhuge Liang and imagine the splendor of Tang and the distant future, all were deeply stirring.
Because of this, the complaints of Northern Song scholars toward Li Bai made the two chancellors itch to debate them face to face.
But then they thought again. A Song emperor who abandoned his own capital was hardly worth arguing with.
After a round of sighs, the usually silent court historian Chu Suiliang voiced what they all felt.
"One can only hope later generations will use their vantage across the ages to judge the writings of Han, Tang, and Song, and thus fulfill our unspoken wish."
As the keeper of imperial records, Chu Suiliang knew well how fond the emperor was of what later generations called frontier poetry, and how he often lamented the scarcity of such works shown on the light screen.
…
Within the palace at Bianliang, Zhao Kuangyin could no longer sit still. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced beneath the hall.
Su Zhe's sophistry left him flushed and silent.
But Zong Ze's regret and Zhao Gou's fear finally made him curse aloud.
"Such a mouse-hearted coward. Just like his ancestor."
Zhao Pu wanted to speak but swallowed his words. He knew the emperor meant the Prince of Jin, yet it was hard not to feel personally included.
From a minister's standpoint, he too could not understand it.
"Bianliang lacks natural defenses, but its walls are strong enough to keep the enemy outside."
Zhao Pu was certain of this. From what later generations had said, the Jin failed to take Bianliang during their first siege. The city was deep-moated and well fortified.
"And Bianliang commands the rivers, linking east and west, connecting north and south. How can it be abandoned?"
From Tang onward, the importance of canal transport spoke for itself. Though the emperor often criticized Bianliang for lacking terrain advantages, he had only favored Luoyang to emulate the Tang, using canals to tie together the regions.
Yet in the brief words of later generations, a capital moving millions of bushels of grain each year, housing hundreds of thousands of people, and serving as the capital for over a century was casually discarded in a few sentences.
Zhao Pu felt so stifled he nearly spat blood.
He had once plotted the realm with the emperor on snowy nights. Conquering from south to north was never easy.
His advice to advance gradually was built on holding Bianliang. With canals, this era differed entirely from that of Liu Yu. But to abandon it meant…
"Abandoning Bianliang is self-destruction. Even if the enemy collapses on its own, the north cannot be recovered."
Zhao Pu sighed. Only days earlier, Cao Bin had sent word that within three months he would personally bind Li Yu and present him before the throne.
Retreating to one corner was no different from Southern Tang. How could this not chill the hearts of northern people?
An old general nearing seventy charged alone for the state, while Zhao Gou, commanding all civil and military officials, fled south.
For the first time, Zhao Pu felt he understood the vicious curses later generations hurled at Zhao Gou.
"So Yue Fei was Zong Ze's subordinate. A fine man."
That name had appeared many times already. Zhao Kuangyin could not help but care.
He even felt a faint hope that Yue Fei would prove Song was not made solely of cowards, that there were still men who dared draw their blades against invaders.
Fortunately, later generations seemed to hear his thoughts. As a scroll unfolded, the narration grew clearer and steadier.
[Lightscreen]
["We mentioned earlier that Northern Song reformers were trapped by their era, lacking the courage for reforms paid in blood. What filled three reform movements were compromises, followed by repeated explosions in miscellaneous taxes.
During Emperor Huizong's reign, the imperial examination was suspended. To fund the Grand Academy and support all its students, fiscal pressure surged. Huizong and Cai Jing, unsurprisingly, made the same choice as in Emperor Shenzong's time. They issued even more miscellaneous taxes.
These taxes had one direct consequence.
The Yue family went bankrupt."]