The Great Song Dynasty: You were put in charge of teaching, and you produced a whole bunch of prime

The air in the side hall of the Court of State Ceremonial was thick with the stench of blood.

"Snapped!"

The scalding hot teacup exploded on his face, and shards of porcelain mixed with tea soup streamed down Zhang Zeduan's face, which was covered in cold sweat.

Before the Minister of the Court of State Ceremonies could even let out a scream, a greasy hand had already pressed down on his skull, slamming it down onto the leftover food scattered on the table.

"Don't try to use classical Chinese phrases on me!"

The Liao envoy Yelü Aolu had a mouth full of mutton fat, and his eyes looked at him as if he were looking at a dog.

He held out four fingers, almost poking them into Zhang Zeduan's eye socket:

"First, the Liao Dynasty wants all the blueprints and craftsmen for those 'telescopes' that can see ten miles away."

"Secondly, the 'Heavenly Craft Glazed Glass' recipe—if you miss a single word, I'll chop off one of your fingers."

Third, release them!

"Fourth, pay 100,000 taels of silver in compensation; this is called 'compensation for emotional distress'!"

Zhang Zeduan trembled, his lips turning blue: "This...this is robbery..."

"It's robbery, so what?"

Yelü Aolu grinned maliciously, kicked over the table, and his huge body cast a shadow that made it hard to breathe.

"Go back and tell Zhao Zhen."

"Three days."

"If they see nothing for three days, their 120,000 iron cavalry outside Yanmen Pass will go wash their horses' hooves by the Yellow River!"

"When that happens, my knife won't have eyes!"

……

The Chuigong Hall was deathly still.

Zhao Zhen slumped on the dragon throne, his temples throbbing as if his brain was about to explode.

The group of people below had been arguing for an hour.

"Your Majesty!"

The old minister, a proponent of peace, knelt and kowtowed, the floorboards thumping loudly: "Those are 120,000 iron cavalry! If a war breaks out, countless lives will be lost! Give us something in exchange for peace; this is called bearing humiliation and carrying a heavy burden!"

"Screw your load!"

A loud shout.

Gong De, the Commander-in-Chief of the Palace Guard, his eyes bloodshot, pointed at the old minister's nose and began to curse:

"Today they give up technology, tomorrow land, and the day after tomorrow will they send the emperor over too? Are the 800,000 imperial guards of the Song Dynasty just for show?!"

"Gong De! The national treasury is empty. Will you take responsibility if we lose the war?!"

"It's better to be born kneeling than to bear the burden!"

Here we go again. Here we go again.

Zhao Zhen felt a churning in his stomach. The feeling of having a knife to his throat and having to listen to his own family's persuasion to surrender was utterly disgusting.

"Shut up, all of you."

Zhao Zhen's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a sinister chill.

The hall fell into a deathly silence.

He turned to Zhang Maoze, who was huddled in the corner like a quail, and said impatiently, "Where is Jiang Lin, whom I summoned? We're in dire straits! Where has he gone?"

Zhang Maoze trembled all over, his expression even more unsightly than if he were crying.

He shuffled over in tiny steps, his voice barely audible.

"Reporting to Your Excellency... Mr. Jiang... did not come."

Zhao Zhen's eyebrows twitched violently: "Didn't come?"

"Yes." Zhang Maoze wiped away his cold sweat. "He said... he's sick."

"He's sick?!" Zhao Zhen's voice rose eight octaves. "Yesterday he was scaring Liao spies at the academy, and today the Liao envoy came to his door, and he's already sick?!"

"They said... they caught a cold last night, felt dizzy and lightheaded, and were afraid of passing on their illness to the Emperor, so they couldn't get out of bed..."

Zhao Zhen laughed in exasperation.

Cold?

Screw your cold! This is clearly just shirking responsibility!

"Fine, fine! I can tolerate your laziness on ordinary days, but to put on airs at a time like this?" Zhao Zhen slammed his hand on the dragon throne. "Send the Imperial Guards! As long as they're not dead, carry them into the palace!"

"Report—!"

A young eunuch tumbled and crawled into the main hall, holding up a letter.

"Your Majesty! There's an urgent message from Mr. Jiang!"

The entire court of officials immediately craned their necks.

The peace faction hopes for a letter of surrender, while the war faction fears they are spineless.

Zhao Zhen grabbed the envelope.

It was so light and airy, yet it still had a small piece of scallion pancake oil stain about the size of a fingernail stuck to it.

This bastard... eating while writing?

Zhao Zhen's lips twitched as he tore open the envelope and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

The handwriting was messy, revealing a perfunctory attitude as if the writer had just woken up.

Only one line of text:

Let them fight. We'll talk after they're done. I'm going to sleep now.

Zhao Zhen stared at that line of text for a full three breaths.

There were no quotations from classical texts, no tearful lamentations, and no deathbed remonstrances.

With just a dozen or so words, you can even sense the writer's impatience as they yawn.

Let them fight...

I'm going to sleep now.

"puff……"

Zhao Zhen suddenly burst out laughing.

"Hehe... Hahahaha!"

The laughter grew louder and louder, eventually turning into unrestrained, maniacal laughter that shook the rooftops, causing dust to fall in droves.

He slammed the letter heavily onto the imperial desk.

The frustration in my chest miraculously dissipated completely!

Good idea, I'm going to sleep now!

The entire court was in a panic, like ants on a hot pan. The Liao people were clamoring to flatten Bianjing, but in Jiang Lin's eyes, these people didn't even have the right to make him get up and get dressed!

What arrogance!

What a source of confidence that is!

If even that cowardly Jiang Lin dares to sleep soundly, what am I afraid of?!

Zhao Zhen suddenly stood up, his previously hunched back straightening instantly, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

His gaze was sharp as a knife, sweeping across the assembled officials.

"Zhang Maoze!"

"This old servant is here!"

"Go and tell the Liao envoy."

A vengeful smile played on Zhao Zhen's lips, his voice echoing throughout the hall:

"I have also caught a cold."

"I'm not feeling well and can't see guests."

"Get him out!"

Clang.

The old minister of the pro-peace faction collapsed to the ground, his legs giving way, his face ashen.

Gong De and his fellow generals suddenly looked up, their eyes filled with burning fighting spirit.

Hard!

The government has finally stood tall!

……

Sifangguan.

"Splash!"

The valuable Ding ware vase was smashed to pieces.

Yelü Aolu was like a mad bull, kicking the tables and chairs in the room to pieces.

"A cold?!"

"He caught a cold too?!"

"Are you treating me like a three-year-old?!"

It's one thing for Jiang Lin to refuse to see them, but the Emperor of the Song Dynasty actually dares to use the same excuse? He can't even be bothered to come up with a new one!

This is an insult.

This is a blatant insult to the Liao Dynasty!

"My lord, please calm down..." the attendant stammered in the corner. "Perhaps the Song people are stalling for time..."

"Delay my ass!"

Yelü Aolu grabbed the command arrow and slammed it to the ground, his eyes blazing with murderous intent.

"You're asking for it!"

"Send word to Commander Xiao! Make your move!"

"Attack the outer strongholds of Yanmen Pass immediately! Let's bleed the Song people and show them whether my sword can truly kill!"

……

Late at night, in the Imperial Palace.

Zhao Zhen, carrying a palace lantern, stood before a huge map.

His finger traced the Yellow River and pressed firmly on the red circle—Yanmen Pass.

That was the throat, and also the pain that had plagued the Song Dynasty for a century.

"Issue my decree."

Zhao Zhen's voice was calm, yet it carried a strong sense of bloodshed.

"The border troops are immediately placed on Level 1 combat readiness."

"Order Yang Wenguang, a descendant of the Yang family generals, to lead his troops to reinforce Yanmen Pass and hold it at all costs!"

"besides……"

Zhao Zhen turned around and opened the sandalwood box on the imperial desk.

A monocular telescope, emitting a cold, coppery glow, lay quietly inside.

He picked up the binoculars, the cool touch making his palms feel slightly hot.

Tell Yang Wenguang.

"Since Jiang Lin said 'let them fight,' then give them a good beating!"

"I hereby authorize the border troops to use this 'all-seeing eye'!"

"This old servant obeys the decree!" Zhang Maoze accepted the gift with both hands, as if it were a priceless treasure.

The hall returned to silence.

Zhao Zhen pushed open the window, and the night breeze, carrying a chill, ruffled his temples.

He looked in the direction of Jingshi Academy in the north of the city, a playful smile curving his lips.

"Jiang Lin, oh Jiang Lin."

"You told me to 'wait and see,' and I'll set up the stage for you right now."

"If this battle goes wrong..."

Zhao Zhen narrowed his eyes, his tone both chilling and slightly mocking:

"I'll tear down your dilapidated academy, chop it all up into firewood, and use it to keep you warm and cure your cold!"