Chapter 60 Volunteering One's Services

An enemy's enemy is a friend. Although Zhao Dezhao had always maintained a certain distance from Zhao Pu, the excessively greedy and corrupt reigning Chancellor, and was even more reluctant to let Zhao Pu manipulate him, the situation changed after the northern expedition. When rewards and recognitions were being distributed for the military campaign, Zhao Pu decisively extended an olive branch to Zhao Dezhao once again, intentionally elevating Zhao Dezhao's status and standing to strike a blow against his own archrival, Zhao Guangyi.

"Your Majesty, His Highness the Prince participated in the northern expedition alongside the army. Although he held only the position of army supervisor, he repeatedly devised brilliant strategies that helped our Great Song forces heavily defeat the Khitan Liao barbarians, compelling the Northern Han court to submit as a vassal, pay annual tributes, and compensate us with a massive military indemnity. He has rendered peerless and monumental service. This humble subject dares to be so bold as to implore Your Majesty to bestow imperial grace, formally conferring the title of Prince upon His Highness and rewarding him with aristocratic rank, so as to honor the peerless achievements he established in this northern expedition."

Hearing these passionate and stirring words from Zhao Pu, Zhao Guangyi's face remained completely expressionless, yet inside he was burning with a jealousy bordering on madness. At the same time, his heart leapt straight into his throat, terrified that this damned nephew of his would surpass him and secure a formal royal title before he could.

In stark contrast to Zhao Guangyi, Zhao Dezhao was entirely calm on the surface. Inwardly, he muttered to himself, "Dear old Dad, I've already won such great honor for you; no matter what, you ought to grant me a noble rank this time, right? Even if you don't directly make me a Prince of the First Rank, at the very least you should make me a Prince of the Second Rank, shouldn't you?"

Ideals were bountiful, but reality was harsh. At this critical juncture that would determine the future trajectory of the imperial court, Zhao匡胤's (Zhao Kuangyin) attitude was unmistakably hesitant. He first glanced at his calm and triumphant son, then looked at his expressionless younger brother Zhao Guangyi, and finally shifted his gaze to his youngest brother Zhao Guangmei, his expression exceptionally undecided.

After quite a long while, Zhao Kuangyin finally made up his mind. He spoke up, saying, "Although Chancellor Zhao's words are reasonable, this son of mine is still too young. To abruptly confer the title of Prince upon him would likely run the risk of forcing the shoots to grow by pulling them upward."

Having decisively rejected Zhao Pu's proposal, Zhao Kuangyin casually added, "How about this, Dezhao? You shall hold the nominal concurrent title of Military Governor of Baoxin, and be rewarded with a hundred liang of gold, a thousand liang of silver, and an imperial estate."

Hearing this, not just Zhao Guangyi, but even Zhao Guangmei exhibited a subtle physical relaxation of his muscles. Zhao Dezhao, however, felt a wave of secret disappointment. Yet since his dear old dad had already spoken, Zhao Dezhao—who was still playing the role of a filial son—had no choice but to obediently bow and respectfully say, "This subject-son kowtows and expresses his gratitude for Your Imperial Majesty's gracious reward."

The civil and military officials qualified to participate in state affairs inside the Golden-Lacquered Hall were naturally cunning veterans. Seeing that Zhao Kuangyin had decisively passed up this opportunity to elevate his son's status, the officials understood that Zhao Kuangyin had not yet made a final decision, or perhaps simply did not wish to make it so early. Therefore, while offering their congratulations to Zhao Dezhao, not a single person was blind enough to voice grievances or plead injustice on his behalf—if the members of the Zhao family themselves weren't in a rush, why should outsiders be anxious?

The matter was not yet over. After the court session was dismissed, Zhao Dezhao, who rarely attended the early court, wanted to return home to catch up on some sleep. To his surprise, the Grand Eunuch of the Inner Palace, Wang Ji'en, hurried after him and personally relayed an instruction: "Your Highness, His Majesty has a verbal decree instructing you to proceed to the Wende Hall for an individual audience."

An order from his imperial father meant Zhao Dezhao had no choice but to quickly accept. At the same time, he caught a tiny detail: when Wang Ji'en turned his head to look at Zhao Guangyi not far away, the two of them exchanged a fleeting glance.

Arriving once again at the Wende Hall where Zhao Kuangyin handled official business, Zhao Kuangyin unusually invited his son to sit directly in front of him and went straight to the point. "Did you feel deeply aggrieved that I did not confer a royal title upon you today? Do you think I am being too stingy toward you, my own flesh and blood?"

"This subject-son would not dare," Zhao Dezhao replied hypocritically. "Thunder and rain, frost and dew, are all expressions of imperial grace. How could this subject-son dare harbor inappropriate ambitions?"

Zhao Kuangyin did not expose Zhao Dezhao's hypocrisy, but merely let out a long sigh before continuing, "Our Great Song is currently surrounded by enemies on all sides. To the south, we have the Southern Han and Dali; to the west, Tibet; to the east, the Southern Tang and Wu Yue; and to the north, the Northern Han and the Liao state. Among all these nations, which one do you think poses the greatest threat to our Great Song?"

"Naturally, the Khitan Liao barbarians," Zhao Dezhao blurted out without a second thought.

Zhao Kuangyin shook his head and said, "Incorrect. The greatest threat to our Great Song is ourselves."

Though he immediately guessed that Zhao Kuangyin's words carried a deeper meaning, Zhao Dezhao deliberately feigned a look of stunned incomprehension. Zhao Kuangyin changed the subject and asked, "Your Second Uncle has assisted me in governing the country for eight years. The nation is at peace, the people are secure, national power grows daily, and everything is flourishing. If I were to let you replace him in his position right now, are you confident you could do as well as he has?"

"This subject-son is not," Zhao Dezhao uttered a rare piece of utter honesty. His Second Uncle was indeed a complete disaster when it came to military matters, but he was a genius-level existence when managing domestic affairs. To let Zhao Dezhao replace Zhao Guangyi right now—Zhao Dezhao genuinely lacked the confidence to do a better job than him.

"Now then, do you understand why I am in no rush to confer the title of Prince upon you?" Zhao Kuangyin said meaningfully. "Your Second Uncle is currently indispensable to both me and the imperial court. If he were to throw down his responsibilities in frustration, or react even more violently, our Great Song court would instantly plunge into chaos, and the forward momentum of our national fortune would be severely impacted. Therefore, for the sake of our Great Song court's stability and the continued growth of our national strength, I can only wrong you slightly so as not to provoke others. Do you understand?"

With Zhao Kuangyin putting things so bluntly, Zhao Dezhao naturally had no choice but to nod quickly and say, "I understand Your Imperial Majesty's painstaking efforts. For the sake of the stability of our Great Song court and the continued strengthening of our national power, this subject-son is willing to temporarily forgo the royal title bestowed by Your Imperial Majesty."

Seeing his son act so sensible, Zhao Kuangyin was naturally deeply gratified. He nodded and said, "As long as you understand. Do not leak what I have said to you today. Keep working hard and strive to reach a point soon where I can safely let you serve as the Magistrate of Kaifeng Prefecture."

"This subject-son obeys the imperial decree." Although Zhao Dezhao answered respectfully with his lips, his eyes drifted toward Wang Ji'en standing nearby, and he muttered inwardly to himself, "Even if I can keep my mouth shut, certain people will definitely report today's conversation to my Second Uncle the War God. The open and covert struggles between him and me are destined to become even more intense and brutal."

Understanding that Wang Ji'en would surely convey Zhao Kuangyin's hints to Zhao Guangyi, Zhao Dezhao was suddenly struck by an idea. He thought to himself, "Should I also think of a way to plant a few informants around my Second Uncle the War God? Otherwise, with the enemy in the shadows and me in the light, I will be far too passive and disadvantaged."

The day after Zhao Dezhao received his unjust reward was the fifteenth day of the first lunar month in the second year of Kaibao, the Lantern Festival. The renowned Daxiangguo Temple was holding a temple fair that day to celebrate the auspicious festival. Since this was his first time spending the Lantern Festival in this era, and he had missed the temple fair on the first day of the Lunar Year at Daxiangguo Temple, Zhao Dezhao accepted the suggestions of Liang Zhouhan and others. Changing into plain clothes, he went to Daxiangguo Temple to sightsee, offer incense, and pray that his Second Uncle the War God would soon conquer his illnesses.

However, Zhao Dezhao quickly abandoned the idea of praying and offering incense before the Buddha statues. As for the reason—the density of the crowd at the scene vastly exceeded the imagination of Zhao Dezhao and his entourage. The space in front of the temple gate was packed so tightly that not even a needle could be dropped; such phrasing was barely enough to describe the density of the mob. It was safe to say that if anyone were crushed to death on the spot, their body wouldn't even fall to the ground, but would simply be swept along by the surging human current.

Unwilling to suffer such meaningless torment, Zhao Dezhao chose to lead his cronies and lackeys to stroll around the outer periphery of Daxiangguo Temple. As a result, a medicine-selling stall run by a Daoist priest successfully caught the attention of Liang Zhouhan and Wang Zhifa. Zhao Dezhao also paused his steps, watching with keen interest to see how this Daoist stallholder was pulling off his scams.

And truth be told, the Daoist stallholder possessed a remarkably appealing appearance. Despite being only a little over thirty years old, he gave off an ethereal, otherworldly vibe, and his deportment and bearing were full of the demeanor of a high-minded master. Even Zhao Dezhao, who was well-traveled and knowledgeable, felt a sense of extraordinary uniqueness upon seeing him.

What this Daoist stallholder was selling was a miraculous elixir guaranteed to cure all diseases. He claimed its primary ingredients included *lingzhi* mushrooms harvested from the peak of Mount Emei in Shu, snow lotus flowers from the Tianshan Mountains, ginseng guarded by crested serpents, and celestial peaches plucked by golden-eyed white apes that could speak human language. He spoke with a torrent of eloquence, completely baffling the curious onlookers, and Zhao Dezhao couldn't help but listen with growing fascination.

Not stopping there, to prove the efficacy of his elixir, the Daoist stallholder publicly dropped a handful of copper coins into a boiling wok of oil, swallowed a pill himself, rolled up his sleeves in plain view of everyone, and plunged his right hand straight into the boiling oil. He fished out every single copper coin from the wok without sustaining the slightest injury.

Seeing this spectacle, many clueless bystanders naturally opened their purses generously, scrambling to buy elixirs from the Daoist stallholder. Wang Zhifa, who always loved dropping his trousers in public, was also eager to try and fished out his private savings, preparing to buy a few pills just in case.

During this time, an unexpected incident occurred. For reasons unknown, the Daoist stallholder suddenly squeezed through the crowd holding a bottle of the elixirs that people were fighting to buy, arriving right in front of Zhao Dezhao. Smiling all over his face, he said, "This young gentleman possesses an extraordinary demeanor and is surely no ordinary person. Since Daoist fate has brought us together, I implore the gentleman to accept this bottle of elixir as a token of my profound admiration."

Never had Zhao Dezhao expected that this jianghu swindler would suddenly target him. Naturally, he felt greatly astonished, yet the Daoist stallholder repeatedly bowed and saluted, earnestly pleading for him to accept the medicine. In the end, Zhao Dezhao accepted his good intentions, took the bottle of supposed bullshit elixir, and instructed Wang Zhifa, "Zhifa, reward him with two liang of silver."

Wang Zhifa agreed and immediately handed out the reward on Zhao Dezhao's behalf. The Daoist stallholder was consequently overwhelmed with excitement, bowing and thanking Zhao Dezhao repeatedly. On a whim, Zhao Dezhao leaned close to his ear and whispered in a low voice, "Next time, aside from vinegar, casually toss in a bit of lime powder (calcium carbonate) into the wok. That way, the oil in the wok will boil much more fiercely and look even more authentic."

A look of sheer astonishment flashed across the face of the Daoist stallholder, but his reaction was also remarkably swift. He quickly recovered his ingratiating smile and respectfully said, "Thank you for the guidance, young gentleman. This humble Daoist will keep it in mind."

With his mind occupied by affairs of state and how to wrestle power from his Second Uncle the War God, Zhao Dezhao naturally didn't take such a trivial matter as casually coaching a charlatan to heart, and had already forgotten about it before the temple fair even ended. However...

To Zhao Dezhao's surprise, by the afternoon of the next day, his gatekeeper suddenly came rushing in to report that a Daoist priest had arrived at the front gate seeking an audience, stubbornly and shamelessly insisting on seeing him, and declaring his identity as the medicine-selling Daoist he had spoken with at the temple fair yesterday.

Once the gatekeeper relayed the Daoist's stated identity, Zhao Dezhao immediately recalled the events of yesterday. He was immensely curious as to how this Daoist stallholder had managed to track him down here, and it seemed the man had known his identity all along. Out of pure curiosity, Zhao Dezhao nodded and agreed to receive him.

A moment later, the remarkably attractive Daoist stallholder from yesterday was brought before Zhao Dezhao. He bowed respectfully and said, "This humble commoner pays respects to the Prince of the realm, and wishes His Highness eternal peace and well-being. Yesterday at the temple fair, there were too many people and voices, and I feared disrupting Your Highness's leisure. Thus, I was lacking in proper etiquette, and I beg Your Highness to open your heart and forgive my offense."

"You already knew my identity yesterday?" Zhao Dezhao asked, greatly surprised.

The Daoist smiled all over his face and replied, "This humble commoner would not dare deceive Your Highness. In truth, as early as half a year ago, this humble commoner caught a glimpse of Your Highness within the inner city."

With that, the Daoist pointed toward Wang Zhifa standing nearby, his tone growing even more respectful. "At that time, this esteemed servant of Your Highness was brawling with Kaifeng Prefecture bailiffs. When Your Highness personally stepped forward to discipline those bailiffs, your identity was exposed, so this humble commoner etched the golden-branch-and-jade-leaf appearance of Your Highness into his memory."

Recalling the past events when Wang Zhifa had sold white sugar on his behalf, Zhao Dezhao first experienced a sudden flash of realization, and then couldn't help praising, "Splendid! I never imagined you possessed such a skill—merely catching a glimpse of this Prince half a year ago was enough for you to remember my appearance and identity."

"This humble commoner dares not deceive Your Highness. Generally speaking, whatever people or things this humble commoner sees even once, I can remember with photographic memory," the Daoist replied quite proudly.

Zhao Dezhao smiled and casually asked, "What is your name? Where are you from?"

"Reporting to Your Highness, this humble commoner is named Helian Liyong (Momochen Liyong), and I am a native of Shu."

The Daoist's answer left Zhao Dezhao dumbfounded. He asked in shock, "What did you say your name was? Helian Liyong? Did I hear that correctly? Are there names like that in this world?"

"Reporting to Your Highness, this humble commoner is indeed named Helian Liyong," the Daoist explained carefully. "Helian (Momochen) is a compound surname, and Liyong is my personal name."

"To think there are three-character compound surnames in this world. This Prince has truly had his horizons broadened; I never imagined there could be such oddities."

Zhao Dezhao gave a rare, heartfelt sigh of amazement. Helian Liyong hurriedly smiled apologetically and said, "To not keep it from Your Highness, almost everyone else who hears this humble commoner's name finds it utterly hard to believe, having never heard of the surname Helian before. However, names are bestowed by one's parents, and this humble commoner dares not alter it without authorization."

"It's fine, it's a pretty good surname; at the very least, once someone hears it, they won't forget it," Zhao Dezhao waved his hand with a smile and asked, "Then what brings you to pay respects to this Prince today?"

"Reporting to Your Highness, this humble commoner has come to recommend himself," Helian Liyong answered quite directly, continuing without hesitation, "Since my youth, this humble commoner has thoroughly studied *Baopuzi* and is well-versed in alchemy and herbal medicine. I hope to use this meager skill to serve Your Highness, which is why I have boldly come to seek an audience, earnestly praying that Your Highness will employ me. This humble commoner is willing to offer the loyalty of a dog or a horse and brave boiling water and fire for Your Highness."

Having said this, Helian Liyong hurriedly added, "Your Highness, fishing copper coins out of boiling oil was a trick, but the medicines and medical skills this humble commoner sells are genuinely, a hundred percent real. If Your Highness does not believe me, you can summon one or two patients right now and let me treat them before your very eyes."

Coming from a logistics background in twenty-first-century hospitals, Zhao Dezhao naturally scoffed at the superstitious parlor tricks of alchemy, and instinctively wanted to reject Helian Liyong's self-recommendation. However, as the words reached his lips, Zhao Dezhao was struck by a sudden thought. He muttered to himself inwardly, "Just now this fellow said he has a photographic memory... Why does that remind me of someone else I've seen somewhere? Ah, I remember! That unlucky cop—that undercover cop who kept saying 'give me three more years, just three more years'!"

Recalling this, Zhao Dezhao decisively changed his mind and asked, "Since you claim to have a photographic memory, this Prince shall test you. When you passed through the front courtyard to see me just now, did you happen to remember how many trees there are in the front courtyard of my residence?"

"Reporting to Your Highness, there are nine in total," Helian Liyong closed his eyes and recalled, "Five on the left, and four on the right. Because several trees have not yet sprouted leaves, this humble commoner cannot tell what kind of trees they are, but two of them are pomegranate trees!"

A satisfied smile appeared on Zhao Dezhao's face as he said, "Very well, I accept you as my retainer. Go and handle a major task for me; once it is accomplished, this Prince guarantees you a boundless future!"

Upon hearing this, Helian Liyong was overjoyed. He bowed deeply to Zhao Dezhao once more and respectfully said, "Thank you, Your Highness, for your gracious acceptance. This humble commoner will brave boiling water and high flames to repay Your Highness's profound kindness!"