Song Dynasty: Yuan Dynasty, you didn't expect this, did you? I'm still alive.

Spring of the nineteenth year of Cheng'an (1417).

The first spring after the Song Dynasty unified the Central Plains came later than in previous years.

The plum blossoms outside Nanjing bloomed and faded, then bloomed again, repeating this process three times before the weather finally warmed up.

The ice on the Qinhuai River has melted, and the painted boats are once again cruising on the river. The music and singing continue from dusk until late at night, as if nothing had ever happened.

But everything has already happened.

Zhao Xi's edict was issued on the day of the Dragon Raising its Head on the second day of the second lunar month.

The decree was very simple, consisting of only three points.

First, the Central Plains Province was established, encompassing the former territory of the two capitals and thirteen provinces of the Ming Dynasty.

Second, Zhao Qian was appointed as the Left Vice Minister of the Central Plains Province, in charge of the province's civil administration.

Third, the provincial capital was located in Nanjing.

The considerations behind this decree are clear to anyone who has read a little history.

After 138 years of the Southern Song Dynasty's relocation to the south, it is now returning to the Central Plains and naturally must return to its old capital.

But there are many old capitals.

Kaifeng, the capital of Emperor Taizu; Lin'an, the capital of Emperor Gaozong; and Fuzhou, the capital of Emperor Shengzu.

Which one should I choose?

Neither option is good; the debate continues and no one can reach a conclusion.

Let's not choose any of them. Nanjing is just fine. It's a place where tigers crouch and dragons coil.

It has the aura of a king.

It can control the Central Plains while also taking care of Southeast Asia.

In the nineteenth year of the Cheng'an era, the first thing the Song Dynasty did in the Central Plains was not to collect taxes or register households, but to build railways.

To be rich, build roads first.

From Nanjing to Xuzhou, from Xuzhou to Jinan, from Jinan to Beiping, the 1,200-mile railway stretches like a long gray snake, extending from the banks of the Yangtze River all the way to the foot of the Yanshan Mountains.

The Ministry of Works mobilized more than 20,000 craftsmen from across the country and recruited 100,000 local laborers to carry out the construction in sections, working day and night.

The rails were imported from Australia. Each rail was 24 feet long and weighed 300 kilograms. They were neatly stacked on the dock, forming small mountains.

The official in charge of supervising the project, surnamed Zhou, was a Confucian scholar in his forties who was meticulous to the point of being rigid.

He would appear at the construction site promptly at 5:00 AM every morning and return to the government office at 7:00 PM every evening, rain or shine.

Telegraph lines were laid along the railway, with a relay station set up every twenty li.

When the first telegram was sent from Beiping to Xinxiang, the Ming official who was observing and learning rubbed his eyes and looked again, thinking he had misread it—from Beiping to Xinxiang, a distance of thousands of miles, a telegram had taken less than four hours.

He sat there for a long time before slowly saying, "The world is one family; only today do I realize that this is no exaggeration."

The task of economic reconstruction fell on Jug's shoulders.

Zhao Xi invited this old minister out of Xinxiang, gave him the title of "Central Plains Economic Pacification Commissioner", and sent him north by boat with a thick stack of documents and a box of Song Dynasty silver notes.

What Zhu Ge did in Nanjing sounds simple, but it was extremely complicated to do.

The first thing to do was to abolish the Ming Dynasty paper money.

He ordered notices to be posted at the gates of various cities, stating that the paper money issued since the Hongwu era would cease circulation immediately and that holders could exchange it for Song Dynasty silver notes at local government offices within six months; otherwise, the exchange would be cancelled.

On the day the notice was posted, long queues formed at money shops throughout Nanjing.

Some people came to exchange bundles of banknotes, tears streaming down their faces as they queued up—those banknotes were their life savings, which had been depreciating day by day during the Ming Dynasty and becoming less and less valuable. Now that the Song people had come, they could actually exchange them for something tangible.

An elderly man with white hair had been queuing for two hours. When it was his turn, he placed the bundle of banknotes he was carrying on the counter, his hands trembling.

The clerk at the counter counted the money and exchanged it for twenty-six taels of silver at the day's exchange rate.

The old man took the silver note, stood there stunned for a long time, and then suddenly squatted down and started crying.

The people around didn't offer any advice or ask any questions, because they all understood.

That was something that had been weighing on my heart for decades, and it finally came to light.

The second thing was to establish elementary schools.

This is the thing that Zhu Ge cares about most.

He said, "The Central Plains have been in decline for over a century, with the collapse of social order and the lack of enlightenment among the people. The only way to address the root cause is to start with children."

He established thousands of elementary schools in the Central Plains Province, with at least ten in each county and thirty to fifty in larger counties.

The children of Ming dynasty officials were granted free schooling—a special favor granted by Emperor Zhao Xi to win over the hearts of the people.

This is also why the Song Dynasty waited ten years before attacking the Ming Dynasty.

The textbooks were standardized: the Three Character Classic, the Thousand Character Classic, and a book on basic arithmetic.

Free of charge, plus three meals a day – where else can you find such a good deal?

Even the most foolish person could discern the advantages and disadvantages involved, and thus sent their children to elementary schools.

Many Ming Dynasty officials, upon learning of the Song Dynasty's policies, couldn't help but sigh in admiration.

"The elementary education in the Song Dynasty was even better than the private schools in the Ming Dynasty. In the end, the world belongs to the virtuous."

In the autumn of the twentieth year of Cheng'an (1418).

Zhao Xi decided to make a northern tour.

This was the first time he had set foot on the Central Plains since ascending the throne.

The court officials had advised him for a long time beforehand, saying that the north had just been pacified and the people's hearts were not yet settled, so it was not advisable for the emperor to go out lightly.

Zhao Xi ignored him. He said, "My ancestors are buried there. What's wrong with me going to take a look?"

The court officials stopped trying to persuade him.

This time they learned their lesson; if the officials wanted to leave, they would follow.

On the third day of the ninth month, Zhao Xi arrived in Nanjing.

Accompanying him were civil and military officials, imperial guards, and a royal band transferred from Xinxiang.

Our first stop is Gongyi, the site of the Northern Song Dynasty imperial tombs.

The desolation of Yongchang Mausoleum exceeded Zhao Xi's expectations.

The tomb of Zhao Kuangyin, the founding emperor of the Song Dynasty, was neglected for nearly a century under the rule of the Yuan Dynasty. The mausoleum walls were dilapidated, and the stone statues lay fallen in the weeds. Some were headless, some were missing arms, and some were eroded beyond recognition by rain.

The stone horses and sheep on the sacred path are half-buried in the soil, and the exposed parts are covered with moss.

There was no incense, no offerings, and not even a proper altar in front of the tomb.

Zhao Xi stood before the mausoleum, remaining silent for a long time.

He walked slowly along the sacred path, his shoes rustling as they crunched on the gravel and withered grass.

The civil and military officials followed behind, none of them daring to utter a sound.

He walked to the altar in front of the mausoleum—it was really just a fairly flat stone slab—and stood there, looking up at the tomb that had been eroded by wind and rain for over a hundred years. The mound was covered with shrubs and wild grass, and several jujube trees sprouted from the soil, their branches spreading out as if reaching out from the grave to grab something.

A eunuch offered incense. He took it, lit it, and placed it in the incense burner in front of the altar. The incense burner was a temporary addition, made of bronze and newly cast; it looked completely out of place next to the ancient tomb.

He stepped back and bowed three times.

He didn't speak.

Incense burns in the wind.

After a long time, he finally spoke.

The voice was soft, as if speaking to a loved one who had been asleep for a long time.

"Emperor Taizu, the Great Song Dynasty has returned. One hundred and thirty-eight years. Your unworthy descendants have kept you waiting for so long."

The wind blows through the cemetery, rustling the wild grass.

No one knew what the sound of the wind meant.

Perhaps it's a response, or perhaps it's just the wind.

The second stop was Shaoxing, specifically Yongsi Mausoleum.

Emperor Gaozong of Song, Zhao Gou, has a better tomb than Zhao Kuangyin's. After all, he was the emperor of the Southern Song Dynasty and was buried in Jiangnan after the capital was moved south. He was not within the core area of ​​the Yuan Dynasty's rule, so his tomb was not destroyed as thoroughly.

But it's only "not that thorough".

The cemetery is still deserted, the spirit path is still broken, and the stone statues are still fallen.

Zhao Xi stood here longer than at Yongchang Mausoleum.

His feelings for Zhao Gou were complex.

I can't say I hate him, nor can I say I respect him.

He knew that if Zhao Gou had not moved the capital south, the Song Dynasty might have perished after the Jingkang Incident.

But if Zhao Gou had been more assertive back then, the Song Dynasty might not have had to remain confined to the south of the Yangtze River for more than a hundred years, would not have lost the Central Plains, and would not have allowed the people to struggle under the shadow of the barbarians for nearly a century.

But history has no "what ifs".

He could only stand there, facing his ancestor who had been cursed by countless people as the "escaped emperor," and silently burn an incense stick.

He didn't say much.

He only said eight words.

"The unification of China is as you wish."

The autumn wind scattered these eight characters, letting them drift into the landscape of Shaoxing, and into the cracks of the stone carvings worn smooth by time.

Perhaps Zhao Gou heard it, or perhaps he didn't.

That doesn't matter anymore.

After paying respects at the two imperial tombs, Zhao Xi did not return directly to Nanjing.

He took a detour to Luling.

Luling, the hometown of Wen Tianxiang.

Zhao Xi built a tomb for him in his hometown.

Zhao Xi was clutching a sprig of plum blossom in her hand.

He placed plum blossoms in front of the tombstone.

The petals trembled slightly in the wind, like a silent sigh.

Then he knelt down.

According to the principles of etiquette and law, a ruler does not bow to his subjects.

But Wen Tianxiang was different; he was the regent of the Holy Ancestor Emperor.

He knelt here, kneeling before this man who, as a commoner, with the strength of a lone minister, and with a heart full of passion, held up the last piece of sky for the Song Dynasty.

"Lord Wen," his voice was somewhat hoarse, "the Great Song Dynasty has returned. You, too, should go home."

A mountain breeze blew by, and a few plum blossoms fell, landing on the tombstone, on his shoulder, and on the mound covered with weeds.

A plum blossom petal fell into the engraving of the character "Song," fitting perfectly, as if the flower had grown out of a crack in the stone.

Zhao Xi stood up, took a step back, and bowed three times.

The civil and military officials behind him knelt on the ground.

It wasn't an order; he knelt down voluntarily.

No one speaks.

The wind was strong on the mountain, making my robes flutter loudly.

In the distance, wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys of Luling City, perhaps no different from what happened 138 years ago.

But everything is different now.

The Song Dynasty has returned.