The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

After the Privy Council, the Three Departments, and the Six Ministries had finished reporting on their daily military, political, financial, and logistical matters, and the hall had paused briefly, with the lingering echoes still reverberating among the carved beams and painted rafters, Prince Zhao Yunlang of Xiangyang made his move.

His left thumb, holding the scepter, almost imperceptibly rubbed against the smooth jade tablet—a habitual gesture he made when he had made up his mind and was about to speak. Then, he took three steady steps forward, stopping at the foot of the imperial steps, and bowed deeply, his waist bent just right, displaying both respect and the dignity of a prince. When he looked up, a smile mingled with weariness, earnestness, and a faint hint of helplessness graced his face.

"Your Majesty," his voice rang out in the empty hall, loud and mellow, with the unique rich tone of royalty, yet deliberately slowed down, adding a touch of just the right amount of "sorrow," "Your subject has a memorial to present."

He paused briefly, his gaze seemingly unintentionally sweeping over the eunuchs standing on either side of the throne and several high-ranking officials in the hall, before continuing, his tone becoming increasingly earnest: "Your Majesty, I have been entrusted with the administration of criminal and civil affairs in the capital region by Your Majesty's grace, a position I have held for over seven years. I have been constantly worried and fearful, lest I fail Your Majesty's grace and be ashamed before the ancestral land. However…" He sighed softly, a long and sincere sigh filled with a sense of helplessness, "Time waits for no one. In recent years, I have often felt my energy waning, and the burden of official duties has left me dizzy and exhausted. Especially since the beginning of winter, my old shoulder and back ailment has flared up repeatedly, and I often toss and turn at night, unable to sleep. Honestly, I find myself increasingly unable to fulfill such a demanding and important post as the Prefect of Kaifeng."

He bowed again, his posture extremely low, the hem of his purple robe almost touching the polished gold bricks: "The capital region is of paramount importance, the most virtuous area in the land, a hub of activity from all directions. Its administration is complex and multifaceted, requiring a capable and efficient leader. Your Majesty, I humbly request..." He raised his head, looking directly at the Emperor behind the beaded curtain, his eyes filled with sincere "pleading" and "weariness," "Considering my advanced age and declining health, please grant me permission to resign from my post as Prefect of Kaifeng, allowing me to relinquish this heavy burden and recuperate in my remaining years. Even if I were to give my life for Your Majesty's boundless grace, I could never repay even a fraction of it!"

As soon as he finished speaking, a buzzing sound filled the hall, and a low murmur of discussion rose up like a tide.

This marks the third time in the past six months that the Prince of Xiangyang has formally resigned as Prefect of Kaifeng during a court assembly!

The young censors standing in the back row exchanged glances, their faces showing disdain; most of the officials of the middle rank kept their eyes downcast, not daring to comment; while the senior officials in purple robes in the front row had varying expressions. Everyone knew perfectly well: this was by no means a sincere resignation, but a carefully crafted political test! The current emperor still had no heir, and among the imperial clan, in terms of bloodline, seniority, and power, none could surpass the Prince of Xiangyang. Of his twenty-two sons, fifteen were already adults, especially his thirteenth son, Zhao Zongyuan, who was exceptionally intelligent. He had been adopted by Empress Cao and was frequently summoned to the palace to accompany the emperor, enjoying considerable imperial favor.

The Prefect of Kaifeng, in charge of the capital's military, political, and judicial affairs, and handling countless secrets, held an extremely crucial position. The Prince of Xiangyang had held this position for many years, his influence deep and his faction widespread. His repeated requests to resign were nothing more than a strategic retreat: firstly, to test whether the emperor truly relied on him or feared him, and what his bottom line was; secondly, to demonstrate his "virtue" of "humility and selflessness" to the court and the public, thus consolidating his position; and thirdly, to see how many officials would eagerly jump out to "retain" him, how many would remain silent and observe, and how many... would dare to go along with it?

On the previous two occasions, the Emperor comforted him gently and tried his best to persuade him to stay, always saying, "Your Majesty is the pillar of the nation, and the fate of the people in the capital is at stake. You must not leave lightly." Today, many people believe that this is just another replay of the old drama.

However, Emperor Renzong Zhao Zhen, who was on the dragon throne, did not speak immediately today.

His right index finger, resting on his lap, lightly tapped the cold, gilded dragon-head armrest—a habit he had when deep in thought. The beaded curtain swayed slightly, and his calm gaze swept across his uncle's well-maintained face below the steps, a face now etched with both "earnestness" and "weariness," before slowly moving to the assembled officials in the hall. His gaze lingered on the square, resolute, and unwavering face of Chancellor Pang Ji, then swept over the slightly furrowed brow and the fingers stroking the beard of Vice Chancellor Liang Shi, and finally, seemingly unintentionally, fell upon an inconspicuous spot in the shadow of a pillar—where stood Bao Zheng, a dark-skinned, silent, and resolute censor from the Imperial Censorate.

The murmurs in the hall gradually subsided, and countless eyes focused on the throne, awaiting the emperor's reaction.

In the midst of this silence and anticipation, one person stepped forward proudly!

This man, around fifty years old, with a slightly yellowish complexion and a short beard, possessed small but piercing eyes. He was none other than Wang Juzheng, the Censor-in-Chief. Known for his outspokenness, he was in fact closely associated with the Prince of Xiangyang's household, serving as one of the prince's mouthpieces. Holding a jade tablet, he walked with a resounding gait, his voice booming like a bell, instantly drawing the attention of the entire hall.

"Your Majesty! In my opinion, the Prince's petition was sincere and heartfelt, truly a mature and insightful discourse on governing the country, demonstrating his loyalty and dedication!"

He turned to General Xiangyang, cupped his hands in greeting, his face full of admiration, and then turned to the throne, speaking eloquently and forcefully: "Your Highness, as a member of the imperial family and an elder of the clan, has shared His Majesty's burdens and toiled for the affairs of the state for over twenty years, devoting yourself wholeheartedly, a fact witnessed by all! Now, Your Highness, understanding His Majesty's worries and burdens, and mindful of the heavy responsibilities in the capital, feels your energy is insufficient and has voluntarily resigned from the arduous task. This is a pitiful act, and this aspiration is commendable! Your humility is worthy of shining in history!"

Wang Juzheng paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over his colleagues, before his voice suddenly rose, carrying an undeniable air of righteousness: "Moreover, the Prefect of Kaifeng is in charge of the security of millions of people in the capital region, a position of great importance that is the focus of attention from all sides. It is indeed necessary for a capable minister, young and energetic, to take over in order to ensure peace and security! I second Your Highness's request! I humbly request Your Majesty to grant Your Highness permission to step down and to select another virtuous and capable person to take over immediately, so as to secure the capital region and appease the people!" After speaking, he bowed deeply, his posture resolute.

Wang Juzheng's lead seemed to send a signal. Immediately, four or five more officials stepped forward to echo his sentiments! There was a senior official from the Ministry of Justice, a vice minister from the Court of Judicial Review, and two censors. Their words may not have been as eloquent and impassioned as Wang Juzheng's, but their attitudes were consistently earnest, as if the Prince of Xiangyang's resignation was a great loss to the Song Dynasty, and granting his request was an act of a wise ruler who cared for his relatives and followed the will of his subjects. They even subtly linked "disapproval" with "disregard for the safety of the capital" and "lack of consideration for the old ministers."

The atmosphere inside the hall suddenly became subtle, as if the temperature had dropped a few degrees. Some upright officials showed obvious worry and indignation on their faces, their lips moving, but they dared not easily speak out in rebuttal because of the Prince of Xiangyang's power. Most other officials lowered their eyes and looked down, as if the patterns on the golden bricks in the hall had suddenly become incredibly interesting.

Just as this somewhat oppressive silence was about to be completely dominated by the "public opinion" created by the Prince of Xiangyang's henchmen, a voice as steady as a mountain rang out. It wasn't loud, but it instantly suppressed all the noise:

"Your Majesty, I have something to say."

Everyone turned to look at the source of the voice and saw the current prime minister, Pang Ji, holding a jade tablet, slowly stepping out of the ranks. He was nearly sixty years old, tall and broad-shouldered. His purple robe, slightly taut, accentuated the rugged features of a man of military background. His face was square, his complexion a weathered bronze, his thick eyebrows like knives, and his piercing eyes gleaming with a sharp light. Deep wrinkles etched his forehead like chisels. He first bowed respectfully to the throne, his back ramrod straight, then turned to General Xiangyang, cupping his fists and saying, "Your Highness, you are devoted to the affairs of state and mindful of the Emperor's worries. Your voluntary resignation is a testament to your noble character, which we deeply admire." His voice was deep and resonant, each word seemingly ground from his very core, carrying the sound of metal and stone.

He first set the tone of "high moral character and integrity," affirming the "virtue" of the Prince of Xiangyang—a common practice in officialdom and a way to save face for the prince. However, his tone immediately shifted. His sharp gaze swept over Wang Juzheng and the others before finally settling back on the throne. His tone remained neither humble nor arrogant, but now carried a hint of gravity: "However, Your Highness is a pillar of Your Majesty's court, a high-ranking official, and has long been stationed in the capital region. He is highly respected and virtuous, and the people of the capital look up to him like a parent. His sudden departure would be neither a blessing for the capital nor a good thing for the court. Moreover, Your Highness's claim of 'lack of energy' is as follows: I observed Your Highness's speech today; your voice was booming, and your thoughts were clear. How can you say you are 'lacking'? When I was in the Northwest, my veteran generals could still draw a three-stone bow at sixty. Your Highness is only fifty, and your voice is booming. How can you say you are lacking? Could it be... that governing the capital region is more mentally taxing than fighting on the battlefield? Your Majesty,"

He turned to Zhao Zhen and bowed deeply, "I believe this matter is of great importance, and Your Majesty should... carefully consider it and act thrice before acting."