Chapter Fifty-Five: Beyond One's Control

Zhao Yu and his entourage traveled upstream along the Wei River in an official vessel. When they turned into the Grand Canal, they followed the current southward, their destination set for Hangzhou—the closest city to Fang La's stronghold. Accompanying Zhao Yu, aside from the fifty guards led by Lin Chong, were nearly a hundred skilled men secretly dispatched by Elder Jiang for protection.

Zhao Yu kept his intentions to himself, not sharing them even with Lin Chong or Yan Qing. It was not a matter of distrust, but rather because the time was not yet right and, more importantly, because the simplest truth is that plans are ever outpaced by change.

Disliking ostentation, Zhao Yu did not allow the imperial dragon banner to be displayed on his ship, nor did the guards wear their uniforms; instead, they dressed as ordinary soldiers. To the unknowing eye, their party looked nothing at all like an imperial envoy.

Though the imperial banner was absent, the hull of the ship bore a striking insignia of a flying eagle. Local officials might not recognize its meaning, but those in the underworld knew it well. With the foundation of Bianliang's Canal Guild and Zhao Yu as a powerful patron, Zhao Yu's influence on the waterways had grown rapidly; ships bearing the flying eagle flag were now a common sight along the river.

By contrast, with Yang Xu away in Taiyuan and unable to oversee business on land, their terrestrial operations lagged far behind. Time was short, and the full spread of influence across the land was simply not feasible.

Their journey was slow, as they traveled against the current, but Zhao Yu was in no hurry and treated the trip as a leisurely tour. The river was calm, but a stiff wind blew across the water.

Dressed in loose Taoist robes, Zhao Yu lounged comfortably in a chair on the deck. Facing him sat his new advisor, Xu Jiang, who had recently resigned from his post as Vice Minister of the Secretariat.

Between them sat a chessboard, though the game was Chinese chess. Zhao Yu had not noticed before, but with time on his hands, he realized that Chinese chess had already become wildly popular by the Northern Song's end.

He was no expert, just competent enough to play, while Xu Jiang was a true master. Whether out of intent or simple honesty, Xu Jiang won every game with overwhelming ease, never once granting the prince any mercy.

Zhao Yu took it in good humor, never growing upset or refusing to play despite his losses. Others thought the prince had a mild temperament, but in truth, his thoughts were elsewhere.

Zhao Yu knew well that though he had come south intending to remain aloof from affairs, there was still the matter of Fang La. Would Fang La not seek him out, knowing he was in the region? After all, Zhao Yu’s impression on Deng Yuanjue had been that of a Manichaean follower—hardly a role he could simply brush aside.

There was also the southern Canal Guild to consider. Shi Qian had informed Zhao Yu that Wu Yong served as its deputy chief. But, knowing Wu Yong’s character from later histories, Zhao Yu doubted he was suited to lead. The real guild master was likely someone else.

Whether facing Fang La or the mysterious guild master, these were formidable figures. It would not take them long to realize the stone was a fake, and perhaps even suspect Zhao Yu’s involvement.

Therefore, this journey to the south would be anything but smooth, and escaping unscathed might prove difficult.

“Has Your Highness decided what to do upon reaching Hangzhou?” Xu Jiang asked.

Zhao Yu looked up with a slight smile. “I thought your greatest pleasure was defeating me at chess! Do you have any advice, Master Xu?”

Xu Jiang swept the chess pieces onto the board with a sigh. “Your Highness is wise beyond your years. I have never met anyone with such self-possession. The Song Dynasty may yet have hope.”

For days, Zhao Yu had been lost in thought and had not noticed that Xu Jiang had been quietly observing him. Zhao Yu said nothing in response, simply watching Xu Jiang intently.

“I have spent years at the heart of the court. I cannot claim to know everything, but I am well acquainted with the situation in the south. To speak plainly, His Majesty, swayed by others, has sent Your Highness to the south with the clear intention of putting you in jeopardy, for the situation here is insoluble.”

“Oh? What makes you say so, Master Xu?”

“First there were Yang Jian and Li Yan, exacting excessive taxes and seizing land from the people. Then came Zhu Mian, who, under the guise of the birthday tribute, drove countless families from their homes. I am not exaggerating when I say that the south is now like a pot about to boil over—add a little more firewood, and it will erupt into chaos. When that day comes, Your Highness, what will you do?”

Zhao Yu was genuinely surprised by Xu Jiang’s words. It turned out that there were indeed clear-sighted men within the Song court—perhaps they simply felt too powerless to speak openly.

He masked his thoughts and replied calmly, “I have already received the imperial order. I cannot abandon it halfway.”

“I have two suggestions for Your Highness: First, feign illness and thus extricate yourself from this troubled place. Second, petition for the removal of Zhu Mian and the other corrupt officials, while doing all you can to ease the people's anger and restore calm as quickly as possible. Of course, Your Highness should also prepare the troops in case of unforeseen events.”

Having laid out his suggestions, Xu Jiang looked at Zhao Yu expectantly, as if he truly believed Zhao Yu would follow his plan.

One could not fault Xu Jiang’s advice, though it was rather naive.

Feigning illness was out of the question. The court might be easy to fool, but unpredictable factors like Fang La and the Canal Guild remained.

As for dismissing Zhu Mian—at present, that was nothing but wishful thinking. History had already taught Zhao Yu that as long as his father, Emperor Huizong, remained on the throne, it would never happen.

“You must know, Master Xu, that my purpose here is solely what the Emperor commanded. Beyond that, my father will not allow me to interfere in local affairs. As for feigning illness—”

Zhao Yu broke off, shaking his head with a wry smile. In this world, a man is often not master of his fate, but this was not something he could share with Xu Jiang just yet.

Xu Jiang frowned, clearly dissatisfied with Zhao Yu’s answer.

At that moment, the rapid clatter of hooves sounded from the riverbank, followed by a voice calling out, “Is Prince Yi aboard?”

Zhao Yu and his companions turned to see a group of more than ten fine horses halted at the shore, their riders travel-worn and clearly in haste.

Zhao Yu smiled coldly to himself. So they had found him so quickly? With a glance, he signaled Lin Chong to investigate.

Lin Chong obeyed, stepping to the rail and calling out, “Who are you? Do you realize the offense of disturbing His Highness?”

The official vessel did not stop. The riders kept pace along the bank, replying as they rode.

“Forgive us, sir! My master has urgent business with Prince Yi.”

“And who is your master?”

“My master is a friend of Zhang Shun—His Highness should know him.”

So they were from the southern Canal Guild, and judging by the direction they had come from, likely sent out from the capital.

It was not for Lin Chong to decide whether to meet them; he turned to Zhao Yu for guidance.

Zhao Yu smiled. “What must come will come. Bring the ship to shore—I shall meet this Mr. Wu myself.”