When Zhao Defang woke up, he had the entire history of the Song Dynasty in his head.
He had become Zhao Kuangyin's fourth son, the Song dynasty's first emperor, and the legendary Eighth Prince of popular lore.
But Zhao Defang had no desire to be a wise prince.
The history books made it perfectly clear: in the tenth month of Kaibao's ninth year, candlelight flickered and an axe struck the floor. His father would die, and his uncle Zhao Guangyi would take the throne. Five years later, Zhao Defang himself would die of a sudden illness at just twenty-three.
So his life plan was simple: act like a wastrel, dodge assignments, stay away from court, and live to ninety-nine.
His imperial father tested him? He'd answer every question with a drunken, "I don't know."
Court affairs? He'd hide in a corner and yawn.
The Prince of Jin tried to win him over? He'd grab his birdcage and turn around.
But the more he kept his distance, the more the court and the country buzzed with rumors.
"The Fourth Prince pretended to be drunk at the banquet. He disdains joining the Prince of Jin's faction!"
"The Fourth Prince refused his assignment because the position was too low. He's aiming for the throne!"
"The Fourth Prince yawned today. Didn't you notice? He timed it perfectly, just before His Majesty got angry! That's the art of kingship!"
After hearing the reports, Zhao Kuangyin fell silent for a long time, then sighed. "My son has been hiding his true depths."
Zhao Defang stood outside the hall, holding his birdcage and looking bewildered.
I was just tired!
Then came that night in the ninth year of Kaibao. Candlelight wavered, and an axe struck the floor. He had laid three plans in reserve, all to ensure he could leave the palace safely. But when he turned around, he saw Empress Song kneeling before him, along with every palace attendant in the hall.
"Defang, the fate of the empire rests in your hands."
The birdcage slipped from Zhao Defang's hands and hit the ground.
It seemed he had no choice but to become that wise prince after all.
