The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

Throughout the Eastern Palace, everyone was filled with joy. The two ladies conceived on the same day, with their due dates only two months apart, as if Heaven were granting them double the warmth of family life they had missed during the years of war and displacement. The courtyard was bathed in a gentle spring breeze, the light and shadow soft and tender, and the warmth of everyday life permeated the entire Eastern Palace.

Looking at the vibrant warmth filling the courtyard, Zhao Zongshi suddenly spoke to Qin Tiehua, who was quietly watching over his young son under a tree. His voice was gentle and languid, carrying the relaxed feel of spring: "Tiehua, how busy have you been these past few days at your steam engine workshop?"

Qin Tiehua looked up at the sound of her voice. Her neat, plain work clothes accentuated her tall and slender figure. Tiny iron filings and machine oil still clung to her fingertips, yet they did nothing to diminish her clear and spirited features. Years of working in the workshop, personally forging machinery, had given her skin a translucent quality nurtured by the furnace fires and the elements, devoid of any delicacy, exuding an air of dignified composure. She smiled faintly at the words, her voice clear and steady: "So busy I'm practically on my feet! Shen Kuo comes to urge us to finish every day, never leaving our side; Su Song is even worse, he's practically moved into the workshop, declaring he won't budge until the boiler is improved."

Having said that, she gently brushed the dust off her palms, bent down, and steadily scooped up her young son, Zhao Zhongzhen, who was squatting under the tree, playfully calling out softly. She held him tenderly in her arms, and the child's clear laughter suddenly rang out. "But no matter how busy I am, I have to take a break today. Anhe has been talking about wanting to eat the jujube paste pastry from the old brand in the south of the city for days, and I already promised to take the children to buy it."

An He came running over, carrying the kitten, her fair face upturned with bright, sparkling eyes, and exclaimed loudly, "Empress Qin is the best! Even better than Father!"

Zhao Zongshi feigned anger, but his eyes betrayed a smile: "What's wrong with your father?"

Anhe tilted her little head and thought seriously for a moment, her words childish and sincere: "When Father plays chess with me, he always lets me win quietly, so the joy of winning is just so-so. But when Mother plays chess with me and practices, she never lets me win. I lose more than ten times even though I try my best, and when I finally win once, I'm so happy that I can remember it for days! Mother Qin, I also want to play with Mother Liu Xinyi. My little brother Zhongwen likes to play with me the most."

Qin Tiehua's eyes crinkled into a smile, her expression open and gentle. Holding An He's small hand and carrying Zhong Zhen in her arms, she walked lightly and calmly towards the courtyard gate: "Come on, your Lady Liu is a renowned national physician, busy training 'barefoot doctors,' and besides, she's pregnant with what we don't know is a little brother or a little sister. We can't disturb her!"

The warm spring sunlight pierced through layers of new leaves, scattering dappled gold across the courtyard and carpeting the bluestone ground. A gentle breeze stirred, causing the leaves to sway and the light and shadow to flow like the gentle murmur of spring water. Zhao Zongshi gazed at that graceful and elegant figure, one hand holding her eldest daughter's hand, the other cradling her young son, her posture serene and composed, a picture of tranquility.

He was suddenly filled with emotion. Time flies like the wind, silently carrying people away. Unbeknownst to him, he had already stepped out of the battlefield of swords and shadows, shed the snow and ice, and entered this new realm of human life, full of blooming flowers and ordinary everyday life. The spring breeze is silent, carrying away the snow and the vicissitudes of half a lifetime.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the twilight deepened. A small, blue sedan chair quietly landed outside the East Palace Gate.

Emperor Renzong stepped out of the sedan chair slowly, his steps a little slower than three years ago, but his complexion was radiant, and his eyes were clear and bright, showing no signs of old age or decline. Empress Cao attended him at his side, a few more strands of silver hairs appearing at her temples. With the passage of time, she had become even more dignified and composed, holding an exquisite food box in her hands, inside which was the apricot blossom cake that An He had casually mentioned the other day and had been longing for.

The two walked to the stone bench under the ginkgo tree and sat down, quietly watching the younger generation chasing and playing in the courtyard. The children's laughter filled the air, and the courtyard was full of vibrant life. Emperor Renzong remained silent for a long time, his eyes reflecting the weight and clarity of time.

"Munemi."

He finally spoke, his voice not loud, yet carrying the composed and powerful air of an emperor who had ruled for over thirty years, each word carrying immense weight.

"I wish to step down."

Zhao Zongshi immediately rose from his rocking chair, stood upright before Emperor Renzong, lowered his eyes, and listened attentively to the emperor's words. As a time traveler, he knew better than anyone that Emperor Renzong of Song should have died in the eighth year of the Jiayou era, but with the time traveler Wang Zhonghua and the legendary physicians Liu Jueming and Liu Xinyi, it was only natural that Emperor Renzong Zhao Zhen would live a long and healthy life.

"I am fifty-four this year, and my body is still robust, but my mind is clear." Emperor Renzong raised his hand, his fingertips gently tracing the intricate wood grain of the stone table, as if caressing a magnificent and turbulent history of the Song Dynasty. "The best time for a prosperous era is never when the emperor holds power alone, but when the elderly know when to advance and retreat, and the young dare to take responsibility. I have been waiting for this opportunity for the transition of power and the continuation of this golden age for far too many years."

"At the beginning of this year, Han Qi submitted a memorial, saying that people from Liaodong in the northern frontier were gradually migrating to the fourteen prefectures of Yan and Yun. After three years of border trade, taxes have increased fivefold, and the number of Han-Ci intermarriages has increased by 70% compared to previous years. I sat alone in the Chui Gong Hall for a whole afternoon and suddenly had a sudden realization."

He looked up at Zhao Zongshi, his eyes devoid of any dazzling brilliance, only filled with sincerity and candor, every word from the bottom of his heart:

"In my life, my achievements as an emperor, my gains and losses, my merits and demerits have all been judged. But the best thing I ever did was not to stop you back then. You paved a path to peace for me, for the Song Dynasty, and for all the people of the world, a path that I never dared to hope for or explore in my entire life."

"Now that the road ahead is open and the land is safe and secure, it is your turn to protect this peaceful and prosperous world."

The evening breeze swept through the courtyard, and the leaves fell silently. Zhao Zongshi knelt on both knees, his feet touching the bluestone ground, and bowed three times respectfully to Emperor Renzong, his manners impeccable and his heart sincere.

"Your subject receives the imperial decree, inherits the throne, and will live up to the expectations of the land and its people."

On March 15th, there will be a great meeting.

The Hall of Supreme Harmony stood solemnly, exuding imperial majesty. Liang Huaiji slowly stepped forward and publicly read aloud the abdication edict personally drafted by Emperor Renzong. His clear voice echoed throughout the hall, each word steady and resolute, announcing the end of the old dynasty and the beginning of the new one.

All the civil and military officials knelt on the ground, with Han Qi, the chief minister, at the head. He listened to the imperial edict with trembling shoulders, tears streaming down his face, soaking his court robes. Ouyang Xiu knelt in the second row, repeatedly wiping away tears with his sleeve, his eyes filled with deep emotion. Beside him, Bao Zheng's face was solemn, showing no emotion, but his hands, clenched tightly in his sleeves, trembled slightly, his palms clutching a worn, warm copper coin.

Those were the copper coins that Di Qing left for Wang Zhonghua (Zhao Zongshi), who then gave them to Bao Zheng. Throughout his life, Bao Zheng experienced many ups and downs in his official career, but he always kept them close to his body and never spent them. They represented his original aspirations and his true self.

Zhao Zongshi, who was given the name Zhao Shu by Emperor Renzong, ascended the throne and proclaimed himself emperor. The country was still called the Great Song Dynasty, and the era name was changed to Zhiping.

The enthronement ceremony was extremely simple, with no suburban altars, no elaborate rituals, and no drain on the people's resources. It consisted only of offering sacrifices at the Imperial Ancestral Temple in front of the Chui Gong Hall, announcing the news to Heaven and Earth, and promulgating the decrees throughout the land. Peace and stability for all the people and the nation were the best possible enthronement ceremony.

Zhao Shu sat upright on the brand-new throne, his eyes lowered as he gazed at the newly carved cloud and dragon patterns on the armrests, the craftsmanship exquisite and the spirit majestic. In a daze, his thoughts drifted back to the streets of Chenzhou several years ago—to the poor boy squatting in a spicy soup stall, counting his copper coins, who once thought that a copper coin for three steamed buns, a bowl of hot soup, and a peaceful evening was the ultimate fulfillment in the world.

Now, he reigns supreme, holding sway over vast lands and enjoying the prosperity of the world, able to revel in all things rich and powerful. Yet, he always remembers the weight of that small copper coin from back then—the weight of people's livelihoods, the foundation of peace and happiness for countless families. Wealth and status cannot sway his heart, nor can high office betray his original aspirations.

Upon ascending the throne, he did not first discuss bestowing titles or implement new policies. His first act was to personally write a letter and send envoys north. He conferred upon Yelü Hongji the title of Prince of Shunyi Liao, bestowed upon him a luxurious mansion south of Bianjing (Kaifeng) as the Liao Prince's Palace, and invited members of the Khitan royal family to settle in the south, emphasizing the shared origins of the Han and Khitan peoples, and their commitment to maintaining peace and stability for the country.

In the Imperial Palace of Shangjing, the snow had just stopped. Yelü Hongji received the imperial edict of investiture and sat alone in the main hall, unable to sleep all night. The long night and the solitary lamp illuminated his past of half a lifetime of battles and confrontations, and also revealed the new situation of reconciliation between the North and the South and the unification of the four seas.

The next day at dawn, he summoned his ministers and relatives, and standing in the main hall, he spoke only three sentences, frank and detached, resolving all past grievances:

"My defeat at the hands of the Song Dynasty is nothing to be ashamed of. The new emperor of the Southern Dynasty is wise and understands the people's hearts. He has arranged a post-war era of peace and prosperity that far exceeds my expectations. If I had held firm in the northern border and refused to go south, my people would have come to integrate with me. Rather than leaving others to do it for me, I would rather go myself and personally go to this vast peace."

On the 23rd of March, the ice and snow melted in the Baigou River, and the spring water flowed gently.

Yelü Hongji led over two hundred members of the Khitan royal family and over five hundred of their relatives south across the Baigou River to Bianjing (Kaifeng). The old Baigou Post Station negotiation hall still stands on the riverbank, weathered by time, its wooden pillars faded and peeling paint, yet its spirit remains unchanged. Old willows on the bank sprout new buds, their tender branches drooping to the water's surface, swaying gently in the breeze, caressing the murmuring spring waters, softly soothing the desolation of past border wars.

Yelü Hongji reined in his horse before the old hall, gazing at this place that had witnessed the confrontation between North and South, and the clash of swords, and murmured: "Five years ago, I sat on the opposite bank of this pavilion, and felt as if the mountains and rivers were collapsing, the great power was crumbling, and the sky was about to fall. Five years later, I return—"

Before she finished speaking, the light sound of hooves echoed behind her. Yelü Jingrong stepped forward slowly, her gaze calm, her voice clear and gentle like a spring breeze on water, and landed softly: "Look again, the sky has not collapsed, the mountains and rivers have been renewed, and the world is at peace."

Yelü Hongji laughed heartily, dispelling the pent-up frustrations of half a lifetime. With a light flick of his whip, his warhorse trampled the new grass along the riverbank, head held high as it crossed the river, embarking on a new chapter of peace that spanned north and south. The smoke of war dissipated, north and south became indistinguishable, and the spring breeze crossed the river and returned north.

In the early summer of the first year of the Zhiping era, south of Bianjing city.

A simple and warm wedding ceremony was quietly held. Yang Huayu of the Yang family married Wang Xiangjun, the younger sister of Wang Zhonghua (Zhao Zongshi); the matriarch of the Zhe family celebrated her 113th birthday; and Yelü Zongyuan (Yang Zongyuan), a descendant of Yang Silang, returned with his entire clan. The Yang family was filled with joy.

There were no grand processions, no extravagant displays, only the ordinary bustle of everyday life. Inside the Yang family's old courtyard, several square tables were arranged haphazardly, with guests sitting together, regardless of ethnicity or nationality. Han Chinese were elegantly dressed, while Liao dynasty robes with their sleek collars stood side by side, blending harmoniously. Wine cups were scattered across the tables, elegant celadon cups paired with grassland lacquer bowls, each filled with fine wine, with no one minding what others had, only laughter and warm conversation filling the air.

Xiao Chuyun and Ning Zhongze sat upright in the main seats, dressed in simple, old blue robes, their demeanor serene and unassuming. The swords they always wore at their waists had been replaced by ordinary wooden knives, their former sharpness now concealed. Their full head of silver hair fell freely over their shoulders, unadorned and unbound. Their once fierce and shrewd features had long since lost their sharp edge, softened by the trials of life, replaced by a gentle composure. Half a lifetime of battles and schemes had finally brought about the harmony between North and South, and peace and stability in the world.