Chapter 1 The Official Relocation to Yanjing

That night when the capital was officially moved to Yanjing, Yang Yizhong had a very long dream.

The Jin dynasty was destroyed, the treaty was concluded, the northern border was stabilized. After spending several years planning and building, the capital was slowly moved here. Once the dust settled, the Emperor held a banquet in the palace, which was rebuilt using the old objects from the former Jin imperial city. He drank until he was almost completely drunk. Yang Yizhong and Shao Chengzhang, one on the left and one on the right, helped the Emperor from the Da'an Hall, where the banquet was held, back to the Zhaoming Palace (Note 1). They clearly heard the Emperor talking nonsense, saying things like "just an ordinary college student," "Beijing, I'm back," "the capital is just like this," "should we build the Forbidden City? Forget it, it's too expensive..."

Shao Chengzhang looked bewildered. Yang Yizhong's mind raced with a thousand thoughts, but he didn't say a word. He only held his breath and listened as the Emperor's ramblings gradually faded into snores. Only then did he return to his own quarters, and suddenly he was deeply moved.

The relocation of the capital was settled, Yan and Yun were fully recovered, and the foundation for eternal achievements had been laid. The wine made his head feel heavy, and now, when he thought back to the old dreams of Tokyo before the Jingkang Incident, the precarious situation of the first year of Jianyan, and the national hatred and family feuds on Mount Bagong, he only felt dazed, unsure of what year it was, or where he was in his dream.

In a daze, Yang Yizhong was awakened by the light. He opened his eyes and found himself standing in front of a building that was taller than he could have imagined. In front of him was a huge box with six wheels, and a line of a dozen or so young people in their twenties were walking into it. Their clothes were quite strange. The men all had short, shaved heads, and the women's clothing was quite daring, exposing their shoulders, necks, arms, and thighs. Judging by their expressions, they didn't seem to mind.

"Zhao Jiu, get in the car!" After everyone had entered the box, an older man leaned out from the entrance. "We're just waiting for you!" His accent was similar to a northern dialect, and although there were subtle differences, it was still barely understandable.

Yang Yizhong wasn't too surprised to hear the name "Zhao Jiu," assuming it was just a homonym, but the familiar voice that followed startled him, and he subconsciously wanted to call out "Your Majesty."

"Coming, coming!" A young man with a bag ran over and jumped into the box in three steps. Yang Yizhong subconsciously followed him. This person was not short, but still seemed a little thin. His features were not similar to the Emperor's, but his expression was somewhat like the Emperor's... No, Yang Yizhong's eyes fell on the large-headed duck on the other person's clothes, which was holding its head and looked dazed. He suddenly doubted his eyesight. How could he think that this duck also resembled the Emperor?

Yang Yizhong also entered the box, but the people inside seemed not to see him. Zhao Jiu, holding his bag, ran to the last row and sat down. The older man waved to the middle-aged man in the front row who was holding a strange round disc. "We're all here, driver, let's go."

The box suddenly moved. Yang Yizhong was caught off guard and fell forward. He subconsciously grabbed the seat, but his hand passed right through it, without any resistance. He steadied himself and realized that his feet were also floating above the ground.

This must be a dream. Yang Yizhong moved to the back row and waved his hand in front of the young man named "Zhao Jiu," but the other person didn't react at all. He immediately felt relieved. Since it was a dream, then anything was possible. He could just do whatever he wanted.

He turned his gaze to the window and couldn't take his eyes off it. Although it was night, the streetlights still shone brightly. On the wide road, there were large bridges flying overhead, and he didn't know what they were for. At the intersections, there were lights that automatically changed color to direct traffic, red, green, orange, and yellow, all in order. The buildings on the street were close together, and although the various shops were not open, there were colored lights flashing in front of them, looking like neon lights from afar. Although the side of the street was dark, he could see that it was lined with green trees and blooming flowers, a scene of prosperity.

What a strange sight. Yang Yizhong wondered if he had come to some world of gods and monsters, but he saw some familiar names on the street signs, such as Yuyuantan, Lianhua Pond, and even a "Jinzhongdu Road" (Note 2). "You think of things during the day and dream of them at night," he said to himself. These days, he had been looking at the maps around Zhongdu with the Emperor, and he was about to engrave these place names into his mind, and now they were even appearing in his dreams.

This "wheeled box" sped along the road for an unknown amount of time. Yang Yizhong suddenly saw the city gate tower that he had depicted in his mind countless times. It jumped out from that small coin, suddenly gaining color. In the faint morning light, he saw the golden roof, red walls, and large red lanterns. The face of the person in the portrait hanging high up was dignified and kind. Wasn't this the Emperor's hometown?

He got out of the car with the group, feeling lost. He looked around and saw that even though it was dawn, the wide square behind him was crowded with people. There were also a few people wearing what looked like Han Chinese clothes, and he could vaguely make out ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese attire consisting of a blouse and skirt), zhequn (pleated skirt), and beizi (a long open-fronted jacket), but they didn't quite resemble the style of the Great Song.

What were so many people doing here so early in the morning? Were they preparing to enter the city? But he could only see the city gate tower and not the city walls, and there were buildings in the distance, obviously in the city. This city within a city... His heart skipped a beat. Could it be the imperial city within the capital? Before he could figure it out, everyone in the box had come out. The leader counted the heads, raised a small flag that read "XXXX University Summer Cultural Relics Practice," and walked towards the towering monument in the center of the square.

This is where the Emperor comes from. Yang Yizhong walked beside the young man named "Zhao Jiu," his mind racing. Could this person be the Emperor? Although their appearances were different, the voice and name were too much of a coincidence.

He decided to continue observing. At this time, it was convenient that the other person couldn't see him. Yang Yizhong followed the yawning student team towards the center of the square. The team of young people, both male and female, chatted and laughed freely with each other. The women here seemed to be quite uninhibited, able to travel freely and communicate with men. And the so-called "university" on that flag seemed to allow women to study... He just didn't know what kind of school this university was. Was it similar to the Imperial Academy? Or like a private academy? In any case, it was a place to study and understand principles.

Lost in thought, Yang Yizhong had followed the team to the white monument in the center of the square, watching them scatter and take out all kinds of flat squares, pointing them at the monument.

"The People's Heroes... are immortal." Yang Yizhong recognized the words on the monument, but he didn't quite understand the meaning. Who were these heroes? His eyes fell on the exquisite reliefs at the base of the monument, which were almost life-size, but he still couldn't tell what they were depicting. As he was feeling confused, another group of children walked over, all wearing red scarves around their necks. Their teacher took out a loudspeaker and began to explain loudly.

"Classmates, now we see the eight reliefs on the base of the Monument to the People's Heroes. Can anyone guess what they depict? Does any child want to say something? Please raise your hand - that's right, it's the Destruction of Opium at Humen..."

Yang Yizhong listened attentively. Due to the difference in pronunciation, he had a hard time understanding, but fortunately, the teacher giving the lecture to the children used simple language and explained in detail, so he could barely understand some of it. It seemed that nearly a hundred years ago, the Emperor's hometown was in a precarious situation, with internal and external troubles, and was incomparably humiliated. The court was unable to resist foreign enemies and ceded territory and sovereignty. There were also constant internal conflicts, with many uprisings...

Wait, these uprisings, weren't they just rebellions? Yang Yizhong was shocked. Rebellion was justified, and could even be commemorated with a monument? Did these rebels later seize power? But the teacher clearly said that the "Taiping Heavenly Kingdom" was quelled in a few years... And the later Wuchang Uprising and Nanchang Uprising were even more rebellious, making him dizzy. What was this anti-imperialism and anti-feudalism, overthrowing the corrupt and backward feudal dynasty? A country could not be without a ruler for a day, and if there was no emperor, how could the world function? Were the children here taught these things from a young age?

Yang Yizhong's head was buzzing. He couldn't understand the later establishment of the Republic of China and the revolutionary war, but the War of Resistance Against Japan... Japan? Which Japan was this? Yang Yizhong almost choked, but after a moment, he became confused. If it was really Japan, how could the Emperor, as a person from that country, still keep Taira no Kiyomori and the others around? Shouldn't he have thought of a way to pacify Dongying like he pacified Western Xia?

He was completely confused, but the teacher didn't wait for him to figure it out and continued to talk about the reliefs. The Japanese were eventually driven away, and after a few more years of fighting, the land was finally at peace. It was not until then, when the team circled the monument, that Yang Yizhong saw the inscription on the back of the monument.

"Eternal glory to the People's Heroes who sacrificed their lives in the People's Liberation War and the People's Revolution in the past three years! Eternal glory to the People's Heroes who sacrificed their lives in the People's Liberation War and the People's Revolution in the past thirty years! Tracing back to the year 1840, eternal glory to the People's Heroes who sacrificed their lives in the struggles against internal and external enemies, for national independence and the freedom and happiness of the people!"

People's Heroes. Again, those two words, "People." What did those two words represent? Yang Yizhong rubbed his eyes. On the eight reliefs, there were men and women, old and young, farmers with cloth towels wrapped around their heads, students holding books, martial artists holding knives and sticks, and civilians wearing cloth clothes. But there were no richly dressed emperors and generals, no famous figures recorded in history. Even the teacher, who spoke so fiercely during the lecture, didn't mention any of the named individuals in the paintings.

While he was lost in thought, the group of students, under the guidance of their teacher, had presented a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, still carrying dew, in front of the monument. Then, they lined up neatly and raised their hands above their heads in salute. Zhao Jiu and his group of university students did not need the teacher to explain each relief. After taking photos and visiting, they also presented bouquets of flowers, led by the class monitor and the League branch secretary, and bowed in unison. In addition to the flowers, there were also tourists placing fruits and lighting candles in front of the monument, paying their respects.

Yang Yizhong looked at this scene and suddenly thought of the points of tangerine lights floating on the Huai River, the densely packed memorial tablets on Yao Mountain, and the huge memorial tablet without a name in the center of the memorial ceremony on Yue Mountain! At that moment, he vaguely understood something.

The night was coming to an end, and the east was already glowing with the light of dawn. The team leader raised the flag again and led the students towards the city gate tower. Yang Yizhong also followed to the bridge built of white marble. He saw three city gates, but no guards. As he was calculating whether he could enter directly in his current state, the vermilion city gate suddenly opened, and a team of young people in dark green short uniforms and high black boots marched out in formation, their steps neat and resounding. The leader held a red flag, with soldiers on the left and right holding weapons to protect him, marching proudly and vigorously. Amidst the cheers of the crowd, they walked across the jade bridge and stopped in front of the towering flagpole.

A team of elite soldiers. Yang Yizhong immediately made the judgment. Physique, formation, pace, and momentum, judging by these points alone, the demeanor displayed by these mere dozen people was no less than that of the elite of the Imperial Guards. Before he could figure out what this small team of elite soldiers was for, a loud musical sound rang out from nowhere, startling Yang Yizhong. The red flag unfolded, and the familiar five golden stars shocked him. The sound of humming like a tidal wave surged from behind, embracing the red flag and rising slowly towards the sky, facing the light of the east.

Several young children in front of Yang Yizhong raised their hands above their heads, while more people simply stood straight, their eyes following the rising red flag. When the morning breeze fully unfurled the flag at the top of the flagpole, the first ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds in the east and shone on the vermilion city gate tower.

Yang Yizhong looked at the flag embroidered with five golden stars and suddenly realized the meaning of this ritual. He also understood why so many people had gathered in the square before dawn. They were waiting for this red flag to rise with the rising sun! And the music that was playing, which everyone from the elderly to the young children could sing along to, was even more incredible to him.

This was indeed an extraordinary country.

The sun was gradually rising. It was broad daylight. The cultural relics practice student team turned out of the square, crossed a road, and said they were going to get some breakfast before the museum opened (Note 3).

Yang Yizhong really didn't understand how so many long-wheeled boxes had appeared on the road. Some were big and some were small, some were black and some were white. They obviously had no oxen or horses, but they ran much faster than warhorses. And the road was really wide and smooth. Compared to it, the roads in Tokyo were like the grass streets of a rural market.

After crossing the road, Zhao Jiu and some classmates said they were going to eat "Kaifeng cuisine." Yang Yizhong repeatedly looked at the bright red shop sign, but it looked like the three characters "Kideken." The diners in the shop were eating things like fried chicken, meat patties, and meat rolls, as well as ordinary breakfast foods like soy milk and fried dough sticks, which were completely unlike the cuisine of Tokyo.

Anyway, there were already many things here that he didn't understand, so one more wouldn't hurt. Yang Yizhong gave up on trying to understand and then saw another unusual thing. Zhao Jiu and the others ordered food without going to the counter or calling a waiter. They just tapped a few times on a large square screen. After finding a table and sitting down, someone called their number to pick up the food. Yang Yizhong stood to the side and sniffed. He actually felt a little hungry too.

Zhao Jiu ordered a box of fried chicken and ate it happily with some french fries. After wolfing it down, he took a few satisfying gulps of the brown, fizzy drink called "cola" and sighed, "Original Recipe is still the best!"

Yang Yizhong couldn't help but compare this young man to the Emperor again. His eating habits were exactly the same as the Emperor's, but the Emperor's usual favorite foods didn't seem to include fried chicken. In Mount Bagong and Nanyang, they always ate whatever was available. When he returned to Tokyo, he first ate wild rabbits for several months, and then began to eat self-raised fish and ducks. Chickens were also raised, but fried food was oily and rarely made specifically. But this thing was obviously something he liked to eat. The dish was nothing more than chicken marinated, coated in flour, and fried...

If this young man was really the Emperor... Did the Emperor give up even this small indulgence in food for the sake of the Northern Expedition? Yang Yizhong sighed. With such an Emperor, what was there to worry about the Northern Expedition not succeeding?

After eating breakfast, the students gathered in groups of twos and threes and crossed the "horse road" again, where they couldn't see any horses at all. They returned to the vermilion city gate tower. By this time, all three gates were open, and tourists were coming and going in an endless stream. Yang Yizhong followed the crowd into the city gate and then looked up to see the plaque on the inner gate.

The Palace Museum. The name made Yang Yizhong feel uneasy. Which dynasty's palace was this? Was it really as the teachers of those students said, that there was no emperor in this country, and the imperial city could be entered and exited at will? But what did "museum" mean? Moreover, that small team of elite soldiers had disappeared back into the inner city after raising the flag. Who were they? Whose soldiers were they? Since the red flag was raised in front of the imperial city, it must have a special meaning. What country's flag was it, with its red background and golden stars?

Countless questions swirled in Yang Yizhong's mind, but there was no one to answer them. Zhao Jiu and his classmates scanned their ID cards at security, passed through the Meridian Gate, and ran all the way forward, sprinting up the slope behind the gate, dispersing in front of the Hall of Supreme Harmony for free activities.

There were too many people on the central axis. Zhao Jiu, who was not visiting the Palace Museum for the first time, avoided the Three Great Halls and went to the Hall of Literary Glory on the west side to look at paintings and calligraphy. Yang Yizhong followed Zhao Jiu into the Painting and Calligraphy Gallery. The lighting in the exhibition room was soft, and the cultural relics lay quietly in the display cases, once again shocking the commander of the Imperial Guard of the Great Song.

So many precious paintings and calligraphy... Yan Zhenqing's *Zhushantang Lianju Ce*, Gu Kaizhi's *Illustrious Women's Benevolence and Wisdom*, Zhou Fang's paintings of court ladies, and many other works whose authors' names he did not know, but those who could be displayed alongside Yan Zhenqing and Gu Kaizhi would naturally not be mediocre works. And looking at the labels under the exhibits, they all had annotations of the era, author, and introduction.

Yang Yizhong did not recognize all the characters, but he knew the character "Song." What was intriguing was that these exhibits were also divided into the Northern Song and Southern Song... This could not help but make him a little annoyed. The Emperor had clearly fought to Zhongdu and recovered the Yan and Yun territories that even Emperor Taizu had failed to capture. Where did the Southern Song come from! Wait, the Emperor's hometown also had a history of Qin, Han, Tang, and Song? And this painting... He looked at the author and felt a twitch in his heart.

"*Hibiscus and Golden Pheasant*, a flower-and-bird painting by Emperor Huizong of the Song Dynasty." Zhao Jiu stared at the painting and curled his lips. "The painting is good, but the person is really a rotten person."

A classmate disdainfully said, "The Emperors Huizong and Qinzong are the shame of mankind. Who agrees? Who opposes?"

"Heh, the Jingkang Incident shattered the backbone of the entire country. Relatives were robbed, killed, and humiliated. If it were me, I would have hanged myself with a rope, but they were able to live in Wuguocheng for so many years." Zhao Jiu sneered.

"He did think about suicide, but he didn't dare when it came down to it." Another female classmate coolly took over the conversation, "He is an excellent calligrapher and painter. As an emperor, you can only say that he was a pity for the world of the Song Dynasty."

Everyone talked in turns, cursing the Zhao family father and son to a bloody pulp. Yang Yizhong's ears were full of rebellious and vicious words. He could only stand there and think that it was worthy of being the Emperor's hometown, with such eloquent insults to the two emperors. This group of young students didn't care about the imperial family's face at all, each sentence more heart-wrenching than the last. Just as he was sighing, he heard the crowd cursing something about "Emperor Gaozong of the Song Dynasty."

"Wanyan Gou? This person is even worse." Zhao Jiu said casually, not knowing that the surname Wanyan almost scared Yang Yizhong to death.

"Otherwise? Even a dog would be more useful as emperor than him."

"At least a dog wouldn't have used twelve gold tablets to trick Yue Fei back and kill him."

"A dog wouldn't have written 'Your subject Gou says' to the Jin."

At first, Yang Yizhong tried his best to comfort himself that the "Emperor Gaozong Wanyan Gou" might be a puppet emperor established by the Jin, just like the Liu family father and son in Jinan. But when a student cursed, "Zhao Ji and his three sons were all trash, and Zhao Gou was especially trash," he could no longer pretend. He only felt that the world was illusory and everything was absurd!

The Emperor loved and valued Yue Fei as if he were his own brother, how could he kill him? The Emperor had sworn to never make peace during the Baima Alliance in Shaoxing, how could he have submitted to the Jin? The Emperor had pacified the north and defeated the Jin in a rout, how could he have lost all of Jiangbei and retreated to a corner?

Or was it that, if the Emperor had not come, if it was still the Emperor who did not forget to look for laundry women during his escape, the Emperor who was drunk and dreaming, only thinking about settling down in Yangzhou, would the Great Song be as these students said, its spine broken, unable to recover, with good generals having no place to use their talents, and loyal ministers wronged, thus slowly heading towards destruction?

He shuddered and suddenly understood. The people, language, and writing were all similar, the history was inherited in one continuous line, and they all considered themselves to be descendants of the Chinese...

"So that's how it is..." Yang Yizhong murmured, almost shedding tears. Heaven had not abandoned his Great Song. They had the Emperor, how fortunate they were!

Yang Yizhong silently recited those words, Song, Yuan, Ming, Qing, Republic of China, People's Republic of China. Relying on the fragments of information displayed in some of the exhibits, the history lesson for elementary school students under the monument, and the place names of Yuyuantan, Lianhua Pond, and even Jinzhongdu Road, he pieced together an answer.

So that's how it is. This is where the Emperor lives. This is a thousand years in the future.

No wonder I came here. He felt relieved. Although the world had changed, Yanjing a thousand years later was still part of China, and it was so magnificent and prosperous. So the Emperor came from such a country, such a world, no wonder, no wonder.

He slowly opened his eyes, feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep. "Zhengfu, did you sleep well last night?" Zhao Jiu had obviously drunk too much last night and was still a little listless. He was a little surprised to see him come in full of energy.

"Reporting to Your Majesty, I had a good dream last night." Yang Yizhong cupped his hands.

"What did you dream about?" Zhao Jiu asked casually.

"Your subject dreamed of traveling to Yanjing with Your Majesty." He paused before adding, as if casually, "Beijing is prosperous and magnificent, and the people are rich and healthy, like a paradise."

Zhao Jiu was stunned. After a moment, he smiled, "Is that so? I also had a dream."

"What did Your Majesty dream about?" Zhao Jiu looked at him without speaking. The emperor and his minister looked at each other for a long time, and slowly began to laugh.

Man Jiang Hong

Night visit to the capital, a brief moment of ruler-minister affinity. Watching the red flag waving on the city head, the blue sky is like a painting. Ten years of sharpening the sword to test the blade, thousands of years of vicissitudes to think of China. Children listen to old stories in front of the monument, holding plain flowers.

Matters here, the Yellow Dragon is finished; matters over there, the Fengbo Pavilion is over. Counting emperors and generals, who is the greatest sinner? The common people go north with blood-stained clothes, the rivers flow east with endless tears. Later generations write about a dream together, remembering idle words.

Note 1: All are palace names in Jinzhongdu in this plane. The Filature of the Song plane completed the relocation of the capital by the Fourth Prince, earlier than when Emperor Wanyan Liang of Jin relocated the capital to Yanjing and established Zhongdu in 1151. Emperor Xizong Wanyan Dan established Wanning Palace in 1140. The Filature of the Song plane broke Taiyuan on the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth lunar month in the ninth year of Jianyan (1135) and entered Yanjing the following year. However, the palaces of Jinzhongdu should also have been built when the Fourth Prince moved the capital to Yanjing, so I borrowed it. Building the Forbidden City would take more than three or five years.

Note 2: The ruins of Jinzhongdu are in Fengtai District today, not far from Lianhua Pond and Yuyuantan. There was already the Lianhua River in the Jin Dynasty, and Yuyuantan was also a famous scenic spot in the Jin Dynasty.

Note 3: The time of the flag-raising ceremony at Tiananmen Square varies according to the season, but the Palace Museum opens at 8:30 am at the earliest, and the National Museum of China opens at 9:00 am, so there will be a period of vacancy in between. I originally wanted to write about the National Museum of China, which has a complete Song history exhibition, but Emperor Huizong's works, except for *Hibiscus and Golden Pheasant*, are either in the National Palace Museum in Taipei or abroad, so the setting is a visit to the Palace Museum.