Xining Ten Years

Wake up, dragon bed. It's even more outrageous than this: kneeling beside the bed were a room full of eunuchs and maids, all calling him "official". He was a financial man who worked overtime until he died suddenly. He originally wanted to reimburse him for a late-night snack, but he didn't expect to be reimbursed for his entire dynasty. He recognized the face in the mirror. Zhao Xu, Shenzong of the Song Dynasty, was twenty-nine years old and had been in charge of the government for ten years. One of the eight words in the history book review: "Aspirations are big but cares are sparse, achievements are near but things are far away." He can recite the rollover checklist with his eyes closed. Half of the reform will collapse, half of the able ministers will leave, and half of the border towns will collapse. The person who hurts the most will cough up blood on a freezing morning. The "History of the Song Dynasty" in my mind is thicker than the memorial. Logically speaking, it would be over if you just accept your fate. But the new official didn't. He shook out his sleeves, dipped his pen in ink, and wrote the first word on the twelve screens beside the imperial desk: "Stable". He didn't tell anyone the second word. Write slowly until the day this dynasty is really stable. One night under the lamplight, the queen's careless words shocked him so much that he couldn't sleep for half the night. She wore it too. A graduate student of the military academy, he was majoring in the history of the Song, Liao and Xia wars. Like him, he had fallen in from the days when mobile phones were always in hand. One knows money and food, the other knows soldiers. One is dismantling the accounts in the court, and the other is dismantling the affairs in the palace. The couple were at the top of the power ladder and quietly formed a two-person team to deal with those words "destined" in history books. He knew that Wang Anshi would be lonely, Su Shi would be demoted, Zhang Dun would be ruthless, and the queen mother would not let him go. He knows it all. But that doesn't mean admitting it. This time he wanted to take a gamble: his life was in his hand, and he could hold the pen himself. The first words on the screen have already fallen.