I traveled with them to the Northern Song Dynasty

...

Zhao Yu's armored motorhome was good in every way, except for one thing.

That is, because it was too heavy, and because the engines of this era were not yet mature enough, its speed was a bit slow.

But then again, no matter how slow it is, it will eventually cover the distance from the outer city to the imperial city.

An hour later, the armored vehicle passed through the inner city, entered the imperial city, then the imperial palace, and finally arrived outside the Hall of Mental Cultivation.

To Zhao Yu's surprise, the seriously ill Zhao Shou personally led the remaining staff to stand at the entrance of the Hall of Mental Cultivation to welcome Zhao Yu.

Zhao Shou, dressed in casual clothes, could not hide his frail appearance. He was only thirty-six or thirty-seven years old, but his temples were already half-white.

Those familiar with Zhao Shou were all shocked. His usually dignified and composed eyes were now deeply sunken, his cheekbones were prominently protruding, and even his complexion had a sallow look, as if he had been ill for a long time.

Zhao Shou was a proud man, and he forced himself to stand at the foot of the steps of the Hall of Mental Cultivation, gripping the arm of the eunuch beside him tightly with his fingertips to barely keep his balance.

His every breath was a barely audible gasp, his thin lips were pale and cracked, and although his eyes still held some of the majesty of a crown prince, they could not hide the exhaustion and despair surging within them.

Upon seeing Zhao Yu's carriage arrive, he instinctively tried to straighten his back and perform a proper crown prince etiquette.

But as soon as he exerted force, he coughed rapidly, his shoulders heaved violently, and his face turned even paler.

He raised his hand to brush away the empty greeting in front of him, but his arm trembled slightly halfway up, his movements stiff and awkward, no longer as nimble and composed as before.

Even something as simple as standing still to greet his father, the emperor, now seemed to be done with a sense of helplessness and embarrassment on his face.

His gaze fell on the slowly coming to a stop in the armored vehicle. Seeing his father step out, he forced a smile, but it was more pathetic than tears, and his voice was hoarse as if it had been sanded.

"...Father, you're finally back."

Before he could finish speaking, he felt another wave of weakness and swayed slightly. If his attendants hadn't caught him quickly, he would have fallen onto the steps.

Upon seeing this scene, Zhao Yu felt a pang of pain in his heart!
Over the years, Zhao Yu has lost two or three hundred children (and this is only because the medical level in the Song Dynasty has greatly improved; otherwise, given his thousands of children, it would be normal for one or two thousand to die).

To be honest, Zhao Yu had experienced the pain of losing his son quite often.

However, Zhao Yu had so many children that he really didn't care about such things.

But Zhao Shou was different. He was not only Zhao Yu's eldest son, but also the successor that Zhao Yu had carefully groomed. Zhao Yu had truly devoted a great deal of effort to him.

Now, seeing that Zhao Shou looks like he is about to die, Zhao Yu is truly grieving the loss of his son.

However, Zhao Shou saw that Zhao Yu had not a single white hair on his head and not a single wrinkle on his face. Some people would even believe that he was only in his twenties. He looked even younger and stronger than his son Zhao Ziwen. His last worry was put aside.

Zhao Shou believed that Zhao Yu, who was in such good health, would definitely be able to clean up the mess he had left behind.

When Zhao Shou was helped to Zhao Yu by the eunuchs, Zhao Shou surprisingly smiled and said, "Father, if someone did not know that we are father and son, would they think that we are the father and the son when we stand together?"

Zhao Shou was never a frivolous person, let alone make such a frivolous remark in front of Zhao Yu that was almost immoral.

Zhao Yu clearly remembered that when Zhao Shou stood before him in the past, he always adhered to the rules of the crown prince in every word and deed, and was respectful and dignified, never overstepping the bounds in the slightest.

At this moment, Zhao Shou was able to say such words not with ease, but with a profound sense of relief—a relief to the point that he no longer needed to maintain the dignity of the crown prince, no longer needed to guess the emperor's intentions, no longer needed to be cautious in his words and actions in order to obtain the throne, and no longer needed to carry the heavy burden of the vast country with trepidation.

Zhao Shou's smile was as light as a candle flickering in the wind, completely relaxing the tension that had gripped him for half his life.

All the unfinished official duties, the restless nights, and the fear and guilt weighing on his heart dissipated at this moment along with the blood he coughed up.

Zhao Yu understood that Zhao Shou had let go of everything by this point, to the point that he could use a seemingly absurd joke to give a hasty ending to his short but regretless life.

He no longer needed to worry about the turmoil in the court, no longer needed to fear that the country would be without a ruler after his departure, and no longer needed to feel ashamed of his father's years of cultivation. Being able to see his father return safely, in good health and with his dignity intact, he knew that someone could hold the country together and that the country would not fall into chaos.

Looking at his emaciated eldest son with graying temples, Zhao Yu felt a sharp pain pierce his long-numbed imperial coldness.

The son before him was an outstanding heir whom he had personally chosen, shaped, and on whom he had placed half his life's hopes; he was the clear next master of this vast world.

Now that Zhao Yu is no longer young, and the Song Dynasty needs a successor, the successor is already exhausted. Even with thousands of troops and vast territories, it is impossible to fill the void that has suddenly appeared in his heart.

Just then, Zhao Shou, who had let go of everything, felt the last trace of tension in his eyes disappear, and his whole body went limp as if all his strength had been drained, leaving only a faint and relieved smile on his pale and chapped lips.

Upon seeing this, Zhao Yu, usually so composed, panicked for once and hurriedly said, "Quickly help the Crown Prince inside!"

Under Zhao Yu's command, the crowd hurriedly carried Zhao Shou into the Hall of Mental Cultivation.

Immediately afterwards, Chen Miaozhen, who looked to be only in her thirties, began to take Zhao Shou's pulse.

Chen Miaozhen gently raised her hand, put three fingers together, and focused on taking the pulse. She first touched the cun position with her fingers, and the pulse was floating and scattered. Then she pressed the guan position, which was thin and weak like a thread. The chi position was deep and weak, almost non-existent.

By this time, Chen Miaozhen had a complete understanding of Zhao Shou's condition.

However, given the gravity of the matter, Chen Miaozhen paused slightly with her fingertips, then switched to her other wrist and repeatedly probed, her brows gradually darkening with a somber expression.

After a long while, Chen Miaozhen withdrew her hand and shook her head at Zhao Yu:
"The Crown Prince's pulse has weakened."

The symptoms indicate a history of falls and injuries, resulting in damage to internal organs, ruptured meridians, blood stasis, and obstruction of Qi.

Furthermore, overwork and excessive worry lead to deficiency of both heart and kidney, depletion of qi and blood, damage to all five internal organs, and dissipation of vital energy.

The illness has progressed to a critical stage, and no medicine can cure it.

Although Chen Miaozhen didn't want to hurt Zhao Yu, she couldn't lie to him. So, after a moment's hesitation and careful consideration, Chen Miaozhen made her judgment:

"If the prince is carefully recuperated and fully protected, his life can be extended by one or two months."

If there is any disturbance or a sudden change in the illness, then within half a month... a serious illness may be imminent.

As soon as Chen Miaozhen finished speaking, the hall fell into a deathly silence; even the sound of breathing could barely be heard.

Who is Chen Miaozhen?

She was not only Zhao Yu's favorite concubine, but also the number one physician of the Song Dynasty, Zhao Yu's chief physician, and the physician he trusted most. She treated at least 80,000 to 100,000 people in her lifetime. The key point is that she was a god-like figure, so how could she lie, let alone lie about something that concerned the stability of the Song Dynasty and even the world?

It should be understood that if this is not handled carefully, it could lead to war, or even a prolonged and unrestful period, with the potential for millions, tens of millions, or even hundreds of millions of deaths and injuries.

Therefore, as soon as Chen Miaozhen said this, everyone knew that the Crown Prince Zhao of the Song Dynasty was nearing the end of his life, and the Song Dynasty and even the world were about to face a very big change.

To be honest, if Zhao Yu hadn't returned, Chen Miaozhen's words would have thrown not only the Song Dynasty but the entire world into chaos.

Although Zhao Yu had long anticipated this outcome, upon hearing that even the renowned physician Chen Miaozhen had sentenced Zhao Shou to death, he couldn't help but close his eyes. After a long while, Zhao Yu opened his eyes and questioned Zhao Shou with a tone of utter disappointment: "How could you have gotten yourself into this state?!"

Zhao Shou smiled bitterly and said in a tone that was both helpless and regretful, "Heaven does not shine upon my ears."

Yes.

The weather is unpredictable, and so are life's fortunes. A centipede with a hundred legs cannot outrun a snake; a rooster with two wings cannot fly higher than a crow. A horse may have the potential to travel a thousand miles, but it cannot go without a rider; a person may have lofty ambitions, but without good fortune, they cannot achieve them.

When Heaven is out of season, the sun and moon lose their light; when Earth is out of season, grass and trees wither; when Water is out of season, the winds and waves are turbulent; when Man is out of season, fortune and prosperity cease. Blessings and fortune are predetermined in one's destiny; who wouldn't desire wealth and status? If one doesn't rely on one's birth chart (based on the Eight Characters of Birth), how can one become a high-ranking official or prime minister?

Time comes and the world has the same force, and it is not free to transport heroes.

Given Zhao Shou's situation, what other reason could there be besides Heaven not allowing him to become emperor?
At this moment, Zheng Xiansu, who had also received the news, hurriedly arrived at the Hall of Mental Cultivation.

When she arrived at the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Zheng Xiansu's hair was already disheveled, and her usual dignified and composed empress demeanor had been completely disrupted by the panic of rushing there.

She was just over sixty years old and had always taken good care of herself, but at this moment her face was completely drained of color, leaving only a pale, paper-like complexion, and even her steps were unsteady and unsteady.

The deathly silence in the hall, and Zhao Shou's lifeless appearance lying on the soft couch, caught Zheng Xiansu's eye. He froze, his feet rooted to the spot, unable to move an inch.

She stared blankly at the person on the bed.

This is her eldest son, whom she gave birth to after ten months of pregnancy. He is the child she cherished most in her life, the child she devoted half her life to raising, and the heir to the Song Dynasty, the next emperor of the Song Dynasty.

Zheng Xiansu remembered him as a gentle and sensible child, as calm and composed after he became the crown prince, and as always when he came to pay his respects, his posture was upright and his words were measured, without the slightest error.

Zheng Xiansu always believed that her child was in his prime, full of vigor and vitality, and was the most reliable crown prince in the world. In another year or two, he would naturally inherit the throne and sit firmly on this vast empire.

But now, lying on the bed, is that no longer her spirited, steady, and reliable son?

In just a short time, he had become so withered, his temples were streaked with white, he was emaciated, and even his breathing was so weak that he seemed about to stop at any moment.

Zheng Xiansu couldn't understand how her healthy and strong son could have turned out like this.
Zheng Xiansu couldn't understand how his son had kept such a life-or-death situation a secret until his dying breath.

She, her birth mother, was kept completely in the dark.

She kept it a secret from him, hoping every day that he would sit firmly on the throne, that he would one day ascend the throne as emperor, protect the Song Dynasty, and rule the world.

Her heart suddenly clenched, as if gripped tightly by an invisible hand, the pain almost suffocating her.

Tears welled up unexpectedly, blurring her vision. She reached out and covered her mouth tightly to prevent the heart-wrenching cry of grief from bursting out on the spot.

Throughout her life, she navigated the ups and downs of the imperial harem for decades, ruling over tens of thousands of women with complex backgrounds, and even ruling from behind the curtain for many years. She had seen all kinds of storms and endured all kinds of hardships, and had long since developed an unyielding and iron-hearted nature.

But at this moment, facing the dying state of her own flesh and blood, all her dignity, all her forbearance, and all her imperial composure shattered completely in an instant.

"You unfilial son!!!"

How could you expect me, an elderly person, to bury my child?!

"How am I supposed to live from now on...?"

A cry of blood, a cry of despair.

Half a lifetime of expectations, all vanished in a single day.

Zheng Xiansu staggered to the edge of the bed, reaching out a trembling hand, but dared not touch him forcefully. He only gently stroked his son's thin and cold cheeks, his fingertips touching the protruding cheekbones and chapped lips. Tears finally broke free and rolled down the corners of his eyes, which were covered with fine lines.

Zheng Xiansu cried so hard that his whole body trembled, his shoulders heaving violently. The dignity and self-control that the empress had suppressed for decades shattered into nothingness at this moment.

But the last vestige of reason in her heart was like a fine thorn, stuck firmly in her most painful spot, forcing her to forcibly restrain herself.

She was in so much pain she could hardly breathe, yet she suddenly clenched her sleeve, her nails digging deep into her palms, using that sharp pain to force back some of her loss of control.

Her cries were abruptly cut off in her throat, turning into suppressed sobs that were heartbreaking to hear.

She dared not cry out loud again, dared not disturb her son who was dying on his bed, and dared not lose the last dignity of the Empress in front of the Emperor and the palace ladies.

But the more she tried to restrain herself, the more overwhelming her grief became.

She bit her lip hard, forcing herself to calm down, but she couldn't help touching her son's withered hand, her fingertips stroking his cold skin again and again, as if afraid that if she let go, this last bit of warmth would disappear.

Her tears fell like beads from a broken string, no matter how much she wiped them away, they wouldn't stop, rolling down her cheeks and landing on her son's hand, burning her heart with a scalding heat.

She wanted to throw herself on the bedside and weep bitterly, to question her son about why he had kept it a secret, and to beg Chen Miaozhen to think of another way, but the words stuck in her throat and she swallowed them back.

She was the Empress, the Mother of the Nation, and a role model for all women in the land. Even with her son on the verge of death, she could not lose her composure or composure, nor could she disrupt the court or the hearts of the people.

Reason and maternal instincts were tearing her apart.

She stood there before the bed, unable to cry out loud, unable to vent her pain, unable to leave her side, and unable to retreat even a step.

She was as if she had been split in two—one half was the calm, composed, and dignified Empress Zheng, and the other half was a mother on the verge of collapse, desperate and helpless.

The two identities clashed violently within her, making it difficult for her to even stand, yet she had no choice but to hold on desperately.

She covered her mouth tightly, her knuckles turning white, tears streaming down her face, yet she suppressed them with muffled, painful sounds, not daring to disturb the person on the bed in the slightest.

She hated her son for hiding the truth, hated his heartlessness, and hated that he made her, an old woman, bury her son. But seeing her son on the verge of death, she felt an overwhelming pang of heartache and wished she could die in his place.

Conflict, pain, despair... a myriad of emotions tangled together, crushing this strong-willed empress into pieces.

Zhao Shou was well aware that keeping this from his mother, who had loved him all his life, would deeply sadden her.

However, as the crown prince of the Song Dynasty, he had no choice but to do so. After all, he had three younger brothers, and it was hard to guarantee that his mother might not think things through and support one of them to seize the throne, just as Empress Dowager Xiang had supported his father to seize the throne.

The key point is that he is very clear that none of his three younger brothers are suitable to be emperor. If any of them were to become emperor, it would be an absolute disaster for the Song Dynasty and for the world.

Therefore, even if it meant becoming an unfilial son, he did not take that risk.

Having understood all this, Zhao Yu nodded secretly, feeling that he had not raised this son in vain for so many years. Not only had he done a good job all these years, but he had also done an excellent job in his final post.

Zhao Yu gently patted Zheng Xiansu's shoulder and comforted her, saying, "You've given birth to a good son. You should be happy for him, not crying..."

...(End of this chapter)