Chapter 93: A Name Seen Again

“The people of this world can, it seems, turn into monsters after death.”

At the Jinhua County Magistrate’s Office, Bao Zheng was still brooding over the matter of the horse bandits. The bandit chief had been cleaved cleanly in two and still had not died. It was truly astonishing.

“Your Excellency, did not the man die in the end? Why trouble yourself so?” Gongsun Ce tried to comfort him.

“Not so. Though he died, who can say we will not meet others like him again? When that day comes, what is this county to do?” Bao Zheng was worried about precisely this.

“Your Excellency, that is simple enough.”

“Simple?”

“Yes. You need only recruit him into your service.”

“Recruit him? Ah, Master Gongsun, I nearly forgot—I still have one vacancy among my guards.”

History took a slight turn here. In the original course of events, Bao Zheng would have pondered carefully over those beings that proved difficult to kill, or even impossible to kill, and from that pondering would have devised the three great execution guillotines: the dog, the tiger, and the dragon.

But Shen Shi had demonstrated the ability to kill them, and Bao Zheng clearly no longer needed to create those three blades.

...

On the other side.

Within towering palace walls, the imperial garden held not flowers, but orderly fields divided into neat square plots, planted with wheat, millet, rice, broad beans, and more than a dozen other crops. A middle-aged man had rolled up his trousers, hoe in hand, and was loosening the soil.

His face was fair, his brows fine, his eyes bright. He was slightly stout and plainly unaccustomed to labor; he had not even finished one furrow before sweat was running down his forehead.

An elderly eunuch standing nearby hurried over to wipe the man’s sweat away, saying with concern, “Your Majesty, it is enough to go through the motions. Do not overtax your noble body.”

It turned out that this middle-aged man was none other than the sovereign of Great Song, His Majesty Emperor Zhao Zhen, known to later generations as Emperor Renzong of Song. Of course, at this moment Zhao Zhen was in the bloom of life; “Renzong” was only his temple name after death. Aside from Shen Shi, probably no one knew that.

Zhao Zhen smiled. “Eunuch Chen, I’ve been at this less than half an hour and I’m already drenched in sweat. Think of the common people—when autumn comes, they labor day and night, working hard year-round, yet still cannot fill their bowls. I am ashamed before all living things!”

At the founding of a dynasty, rulers often kept the people in their hearts. To toil like an ordinary farmer was one way for an emperor to avoid becoming ignorant of the hardships of the world below.

Eunuch Chen Lin smiled obsequiously. “Your Majesty, life has always been hard for the people; it has ever been thus. Our dynasty is now prosperous and the people are well supplied. Life grows better by the day, and high and low alike praise Your Majesty’s benevolence. Even if a household has ten mouths to feed, it can scarcely manage all of them. Your Majesty rules over the four seas and your subjects number in the countless millions; even if you never slept, you could not attend to them all.”

The eunuch’s flattery put Zhao Zhen in high spirits, and he laughed aloud. “Eunuch Chen, you only know how to feed me soothing medicine. Very well, I’ll listen to you.”

He set down the hoe, and Chen Lin accompanied Zhao Zhen into the Viewing-the-Crops Hall to rest. In that hall, with men plowing and women weaving, spring sowing and autumn reaping, the emperor was expected to set the example and serve as a model for all under heaven.

Every year, at spring plowing and autumn harvest, Zhao Zhen would labor before the Viewing-the-Crops Hall. After working a little at farm labor, he ate half a bowl more rice than usual, and Eunuch Chen Lin beamed at the sight.

“Your Majesty, this afternoon the Pear Garden troupe will be performing.”

“Oh? Which piece?” Zhao Zhen asked with interest.

“The Bewitching Ghost Maiden.”

Zhao Zhen was a man of considerable culture. In terms of attainments, among all the emperors of Song he ranked second only to the fallen ruler who created the Slender Gold script. Zhao Zhen also had wide experience with opera and drama. In recent years, the hottest play in Bianjing had been The Tale of Yingying: a gifted scholar and a beautiful lady, beloved by all. Yet in the end Zhang Sheng actually abandoned Cui Yingying and even cursed her as a monster and a bringer of ruin...

It was true that a woman seducing a man ran counter to propriety, but when a woman pursues a man, it is only a veil’s thickness apart. Zhang Sheng’s cold-blooded ingratitude was enough to inspire disgust in anyone. It exposed only the cruelty of propriety and left no room for artful grace.

By contrast, once The Bewitching Ghost Maiden, as spoken by Shen Shi, recorded by Gongsun Ce, and rendered into classical style by Bao Zheng, was presented, it immediately seized Zhao Zhen’s heart.

Whether it was the old story of a love between man and ghost, or the great ship from later ages, a man not betraying a woman and a woman not betraying a man—that was the true path of the human world.

Zhao Zhen liked it, and of course Chen Lin had to turn it into an opera as soon as possible; that was part of his duty.

“Good, very good! This Bewitching Ghost Maiden re-creates an old tale of former dynasties and sees through the workings of the world. It understands human affairs in all their variety...”

The opera faithfully reproduced the details of The Bewitching Ghost Maiden, such as Ning Caichen’s ability to smash a stone-steel steamed bun, which moved Zhao Zhen deeply.

“Who can say otherwise? Under Your Majesty’s rule the winds and rains are timely, and the people dwell in peace. Compared with the previous dynasty, this is a wholly different world—a golden age among men...” the old eunuch boasted.

Such words were unavoidable under any dynasty.

“Ah, Eunuch Chen, there is no need to praise me further. If not for the capable ministers and able officials below, who discovered the Khitans, we might well have repeated the troubles of Western Xia.”

Zhao Zhen wanted peace throughout the realm, but the world of Great Song had never been able to stay peaceful. If it was not rebellion, it was foreign invasion.

He knew of the Khitan palace-department army reported by Bao Zheng and by Guobei County, but he could only pretend not to know. What else could he do? Western Xia had only just withdrawn, and the army was still watching it closely; there was no way to recall it in time.

Thinking of this, Zhao Zhen soon lost his appetite for the play and returned to the Imperial Writing Hall to handle state affairs.

Yet with Western Xia only just gone, the northern lands of Great Song had been badly ravaged. Petitions asking for disaster relief and the pacification of the people arrived from all directions, and the sight of them stung Zhao Zhen’s face like a slap. He had only just said that the previous dynasty left the people in misery, and yet when he turned around, his own house was scarcely better.

It was not until Bao Zheng’s memorial made Zhao Zhen’s eyes light up.

“Though Shen Shi is still young, he is descended from a military house. Gifted by nature and remarkable in wit, he first took the top place in the child scholar examinations and then slew a thousand cavalry of the Khitan army, earning extraordinary merit...”

This memorial had been submitted long before, but Zhao Zhen had been focused on Western Xia and had not had leisure for anything else. Only now did he see it.

Of course, this was not to say that Zhao Zhen had neglected affairs of state. It was simply that at first he had been reading the memorials from Guobei County. Knowing that the Khitans had come to plunder, yet being powerless to resist, he had no choice but to put them aside.

And Guobei County, unlike Bao Zheng, had been too busy claiming credit for itself to mention Shen Shi in any detail. It merely said that Deputy Commander Shen led the troops in fierce battle and passed over the rest in a single brushstroke.

Only after reading Bao Zheng’s memorial did he learn that the great hero behind it all was actually Shen Shi, scion of the military family of Jinhua.

And this name was not new to Zhao Zhen either. He immediately asked Chen Lin, “Eunuch Chen, do you think this Shen Shi might be the same Shen Shi who presented that great device? Was that man not descended from a military house?”

Chen Lin was also taken aback. In those years, when Empress Dowager Liu monopolized power, the newly enthroned Zhao Zhen was little more than a figurehead. Chen Lin never once abandoned him, caring for him through decades, and the two of them were more like friends than ruler and servant. As the saying goes, in troubled times one thinks of able generals, and Shen Shi was plainly such a man. This was a happy matter, and Chen Lin was glad for Zhao Zhen as well.

But whether this Shen Shi was truly that Shen Shi, Chen Lin dared not say for certain. He was not so clear on the affairs of military clans.

“Your Majesty, this old servant does not think Bao Zheng is a man who lies. We can send someone to inquire at once.”

“Yes, that is my thought as well. If it truly is the same man, I shall reward him handsomely.”

This matter was simple enough; once someone had been sent to ask at the imperial uncle’s residence, the truth could be confirmed. And that residence was not far away at all.