Chapter 2: An Urgent Call to Duty

Entrusted with a heavy responsibility in a time of crisis—such words could hardly describe anyone better than Zhao Huan at this very moment.

When Zhao Ji heard that Zhao Huan had agreed to ascend the throne, his joy was boundless. He even made a special visit to the crown prince’s palace.

“Heng’er, tomorrow at court, I will issue an imperial edict to abdicate in your favor. Guard the throne with confidence; we have a garrison of a hundred thousand in Kaifeng. To deal with eighty thousand Jin troops is nothing to worry about,” Zhao Ji said earnestly to Zhao Huan.

Looking at his father—familiar, yet so distant—Zhao Huan, through the memories of this body, knew their relationship was far from harmonious. Hearing such lofty official rhetoric, he could not help but secretly mock him: If you truly could hold the city, would you be so eager to relinquish the throne and flee?

Yet, despite his thoughts, Zhao Huan betrayed nothing of them. Memories from two lifetimes had rendered his mind keen and reserved. He replied, “Rest assured, Father. As long as I live, the city stands. I swear to share Kaifeng’s fate, for better or worse.”

Zhao Ji was taken aback, his mouth agape. Was this truly his timid and docile son? Shouldn’t he, like himself, be paralyzed with fear? How could he utter such passionate words?

“Heng’er, you’ve truly grown up. Fear not. I’ll go to the Sanqing Temple in Zhenjiang and beseech the Supreme Immortal to protect our dynasty. This time, the Jin army will surely return empty-handed,” Zhao Ji said, no longer concerned with how his son had suddenly changed. All he wished now was to rid himself of this hot potato and make his escape as quickly as possible.

If prayers were truly effective, would you need to travel so far? Kaifeng is full of temples.

Zhao Huan sneered inwardly but replied, “Go in peace, Father. Your son will stand firm in your stead.”

Zhao Ji had prepared a host of persuasive words, but seeing Zhao Huan’s current attitude, he realized further exhortations were pointless. He gently patted Zhao Huan’s shoulder, feeling a measure of relief. “You’ve worked hard, my son.”

Once Zhao Ji departed, Zhao Huan began to organize his thoughts. If only he had studied history better, he wouldn’t be so floundering now.

With war looming, Zhao Huan knew time was short. He had to prepare.

“So I’ve truly exhausted all my good fortune,” he mused bitterly. Even after traveling through time to become emperor, he was still destined to preside over a ruined nation.

He could not help but mock himself.

A sleepless night passed, and at dawn the next day, the morning court convened.

Unlike his usual tardiness, Zhao Ji arrived exceptionally early this time. The atmosphere in the grand hall was heavy; with Kaifeng surrounded by Jin forces, every minister felt as though a great stone weighed upon their hearts.

Zhao Huan’s identity was special today. Standing at Zhao Ji’s side, awaiting the abdication decree, he gazed imperiously down at the assembled officials. He found himself enjoying the sensation.

At the front stood the infamous “Six Traitors” of Song history: Cai Jing, Wang Fu, Tong Guan, Liang Shicheng, Zhu Mian, and Li Yan. The decline of the Song dynasty was inseparable from these six, yet at this moment Zhao Huan saw them as six fat morsels ripe for the taking.

Cai Jing was old, but remarkably well-preserved, with few wrinkles, and still showed traces of youthful handsomeness. Standing at the head, he seemed to sense Zhao Huan’s gaze and nodded slightly in greeting.

Cai Jing had always been favored by Zhao Ji, well aware of his preferences, and he knew Zhao Huan was not Zhao Ji’s preferred son, so he had little interest in him. But now, Zhao Huan smiled at him—an inexplicable smile that made Cai Jing uneasy.

The morning court was little more than a formality. After the eunuch read Zhao Ji’s imperial edict, Zhao Huan was seated upon the dragon throne.

Thunderous explosions echoed from outside—the Jin army had begun their assault.

Zhao Ji trembled in fright. He had intended to deliver some dignified words, but the sounds shook him so badly that he abandoned all decorum and fled at once.

He hurried away in a panic.

Zhao Huan looked at the ministers before him, knowing their confidence was shaken, especially since the old emperor had already run. It was impossible that none harbored doubts or wild notions.

“Is Li Gang present?” Zhao Huan suddenly called out.

Li Gang was pondering how best to persuade the new emperor to resist the Jin with all his might, when Zhao Huan unexpectedly called his name before he could step forward.

“I am here!” Li Gang hurried out.

Zhao Huan surveyed Li Gang, just as described in the chronicles—a scholar-official, full of scholarly vigor. But Zhao Huan knew Li Gang was a practical man, and it was this scholar who resolved the crisis in Kaifeng.

“Li Gang, from today, you are promoted to Minister of War, responsible for the defense of Kaifeng. I have only one command: as long as you live, the city stands. If you fall, the city must not fall before you.” Zhao Huan spoke, enunciating every word.

Li Gang was dumbstruck—not from fright, but from sheer astonishment. He’d heard the crown prince was planning to flee, and had been thinking how to persuade Zhao Huan to resist, but now it seemed that was unnecessary.

“I accept!” Li Gang’s voice trembled with excitement.

“Convey my decree: in this campaign against the Jin, all who distinguish themselves in battle shall be rewarded; anyone who flees will be executed on the spot!” Clear rewards and punishments—the Song dynasty at this time held over sixty percent of the world’s GDP, yet was routed by the Jin cavalry, largely due to severe internal corruption and disorder.

How could a powerless army ever win?

“Your servant will not fail!” Li Gang was overjoyed, kowtowing fiercely and pledging, “Rest assured, Your Majesty. I will defend Kaifeng.”

“I trust you. Remember, you have me behind you. I leave the front lines to you.” Zhao Huan stepped forward and helped Li Gang to his feet.

Tears welled in Li Gang’s eyes. They say swift steeds are many, but true judges are rare. At this moment, Li Gang felt Zhao Huan was his patron; a warrior serves the one who knows his worth. Li Gang was ready to pledge his life.

End of section.