The Most Powerful Young Master of the Northern Song Dynasty

Chapter 39: Emotional Distancing

The land had been secured, but the price was a rip-off. Old Sima sold Wang Bang a dilapidated house—barely any better than the Lanruo Temple—for the price of a normal residence. While signing the papers and handling the paperwork, Old Sima even took a dig at Wang Bang, saying, “You got a bargain—the money you used to buy this place was stolen in the first place.” This made Wang Bang want to smack himself in the head—but he didn’t dare. As a commoner and a student, if he were caught slapping the back of his own head, he’d theoretically be dragged off to be beheaded. However, Wang Bang decided in his heart not to get involved in Pang Ji’s affairs anymore. Let Old Pang be brought down, and let Sima Guang be rendered powerless. Even if Pang Ji’s downfall left Di Qing deeply disheartened, he wouldn’t care—he’d just unleash all seven of the Seven Wounds Fist techniques at once, and find a way to balance things out later. His “Demon King” father wrote a letter to Zhang Fangping, and after Old Zhang went and stirred up Pang Ji a bit, Chen Shu has now been dragged out of the hospital and brought to the capital to have his corpse flogged. Pang Ji brought this hatred upon himself; now Ouyang Xiu and his gang of idiots hate Old Pang to death. They’re probably gathering dirt on him, planning to use Bao Zheng’s influence to take Pang Ji down. Bao Zheng is like a machine gun—when someone else is pulling the trigger, he’s incredibly effective. Wang Bang simply lacks evidence, but he suspects that Chen Shu’s brazen defiance of the commander-in-chief’s orders was actually instigated behind the scenes by those opposed to Di Qing. It’s not that they harbor treasonous intentions; they’re just foolish. They didn’t want the petty Di Qing to steal the credit, so they sought to uphold the principle that civil officials command the military and preserve the civil officials’ prestige—hence they had Chen Shu launch the campaign prematurely to claim the credit. In other words, on this issue, they were essentially testing the emperor’s resolve. In their view, the emperor’s appointment of Di Qing—a military man with a criminal record—was a challenge to the political order of the Great Song, a challenge to the civil official faction, and an act of imperial caprice. Thus, this fiasco occurred, costing the lives of eight thousand soldiers of the Great Song. Of course, they cannot openly blame the emperor now. In fact, these scoundrels cherish the emperor—the Song Dynasty’s talisman—more than anyone else, because their power and prestige stem from him. So, having lost this power struggle, they will pin the blame on Pang Ji, that “scholar-traitor,” since it was Old Pang who stepped forward to recommend Di Qing in accordance with the emperor’s will. Politically, they can only tacitly acknowledge that the emperor was misled by “treacherous ministers.” It would have been one thing if Di Qing had lost, but now that Di Qing has achieved a great victory at Guirenpu, they’ve lost all face and will go all out to take down Pang Ji. Under these circumstances, “saving” Pang Ji is extremely difficult. On top of that, regarding the land allocation issue, Grand Master Sima has once again offended Xiao Suanbang, so let him be—it’s better if Old Pang is driven to his death. This is why they’re blowing the Chen Shu issue out of proportion and dragging it all the way to Beijing to kick him when he’s down. Chen Shu is simply the dog that those people set loose to attack Di Qing; the more brutally this guy is crushed, the more face they lose, and the more they’ll unleash a hail of machine-gun fire on Pang Ji. No matter how thick Pang Ji’s armor is, it has its limits. If he’s bombarded by the court officials too often, the emperor is bound to start wondering: With so many people attacking Grand Tutor Pang, is he really in the clear? Once the emperor harbors such doubts, Pang Ji’s political armor is breached. At that point, just as a person’s immune system can collapse—making even a simple cold fatal—all it would take is for Old Bao to casually instruct a censor to dig up some minor scandal against Pang Ji and bring charges. Pang Ji would be out of a job. That’s politics. It’s really just like pathology: when the immune system is strong, you can take any number of hits and still survive; you might even catch SARS and still pull through, battered and bruised, only to become immune to such attacks afterward. However, once that immune armor crumbles, one can only remain in a sterile environment, treading carefully even when interacting with others—because at that point, a simple cold or a sneeze spells certain death. With no internal defenses left, the viral army can march straight to the heart of the matter. The political immunity system for officials is nothing less than divine favor… Chen Shu is in a terrible state right now—worse than having been stabbed eighteen times on the battlefield. As a frail scholar, Old Chen actually did lead his troops into battle. While he couldn’t exactly be called a leader who charged into the fray at the forefront, he did charge during the battle for Kunlun Pass and even took a slash to the buttocks from a Vietnamese soldier. When they were ultimately defeated, his trusted bodyguards shielded him as they fought their way through a bloody path and fled on horseback. Upon his return, the officers no longer respected him, and many refused to even see him. Not only had this built up a great deal of pent-up anger, but then Wang Anshi from neighboring Shuzhou suddenly appeared. Before the wound on his buttock had even healed, Old Wang gave him a thorough beating and sent him to Anji Ward for treatment. Before his internal injuries had fully healed, he heard the news that Di Qing’s 1,300 elite cavalry had launched a surprise attack on Kunlun Pass, beheading the rebel leader Huang Shimi. Old Chen couldn’t bear the loss of face; in his frustration at Anji Ward, he coughed up a mouthful of blood, worsening his condition. Shortly thereafter, the Chancellery suddenly issued a decree summoning Chen Shu to step down from his post, relieve him of all duties in the theater of operations, and report to the capital immediately to give an account of his service. And so, now that the weather had turned cold, Chen Shu dragged his ailing body to the capital. Reports indicate that Chen Shu fell into a coma as soon as he arrived in the capital. Earlier, when Chen Shu had been beaten by Wang Anshi, the emperor had felt a sense of vindication. However, upon hearing that Chen Shu had fallen into a coma after arriving in the capital—with his battle wounds still unhealed—Zhao Zhen could not bear to see him suffer and sent men to have Old Chen admitted to the Imperial Medical Academy. The imperial physicians diagnosed that Chen Shu had no serious physical ailments; his condition was primarily due to excessive fatigue, compounded by emotional distress that could not be resolved, causing his breath to become blocked in his heart. Faced with this, no one had a good solution. A disease of the heart, of course, requires a remedy for the heart. But now Chen Shu had become a laughingstock. While he was staying at the Imperial Medical Academy, countless people sent him gifts—lamb, eggs, and all kinds of fruit preserves—including the emperor, who dispatched messengers with his own offerings. Yet no one was willing to give Chen Shu a remedy for his heart at this time. The gifts were delivered, but only by servants; not a single patron showed up in person. After his recovery, Chen Shu’s plight was truly pitiful. He sought an audience with the emperor, but Zhao Zhen refused to see him. When he sought an audience with Prime Minister Pang Ji, Pang Ji’s aides flatly stated, “The Prime Minister is busy with the affairs of state and has no time to see you.” This was clearly deliberate—not only were they withholding the “medicine for his heart,” but they were also exacerbating Chen Shu’s emotional distress. Never mind if others refused to see him, but I was summoned back by you, Prime Minister Pang—and now you claim you’re too busy handling state affairs? Fine, then. You’re the Chancellor—you’re all that. Filled with grief and indignation, Chen Shu went to see Wen Yanbo. He, too, refused to see him; Chen Shu couldn’t even find him. To make matters worse, Ouyang Xiu was currently in the capital observing the mourning period for his late father and was temporarily absent from the capital. This enraged Chen Shu so much that he coughed up a mouthful of blood; he felt utterly wronged. “Damn it, wasn’t it you lot who gave me the go-ahead to send troops to Kunlun Pass on my own? Now that we’ve lost the battle, you’re all distancing yourselves from me and refusing to see me, leaving me, Chen Shu, to wander around the capital like a laughingstock?” But that’s politics for you. How could these guys bear the shame of meeting Chen Shu at a time like this? Chen Shu couldn’t stand the humiliation one bit—Di Qing, whom they’d vehemently opposed, had won so spectacularly that it was a resounding slap in the face. Later on, these guys pulled the same stunt, and it scared Di Qing to death. Now, Chen Shu is getting the same treatment. So Chen Shu was left with no tears to shed, feeling deeply wounded. He thought, “Even if you’d just see me, beat me up, lay out my problems, demote me if necessary—it would have been better to just put this behind us.” He could only dream of that—now, not a single one of them wanted to see him. Since they couldn’t just execute him, meeting with him would inevitably require a conversation—whether it was a scolding or disciplinary action. Once a higher-up spoke, it was tantamount to an official directive; once issued, subordinates would carry it out. And once it was carried out, Chen Shu would have effectively paid the price—the standard routine of being shuffled to another post to continue serving as an official. With Pang Ji and Zhang Fangping being so cunning, how could they possibly let this deadweight teammate shake off his ideological baggage so easily? Politically speaking, turning a blind eye at this moment was the harshest punishment Chen Shu could face. This is what’s known as “emotional neglect.” As a result, Chen Shu was nearly overcome with despair and fell ill once again. Rumor had it that Ouyang Xiu, who was back in his hometown, felt deeply for Chen Shu. At home, he stamped his feet in anguish: “What a tragedy! What’s the point of you, Chen Shu, still being alive? Why didn’t you die on the battlefield, like Zhao Shidan, and become a loyal martyr? Now that you’ve lost the battle yet survived, Zhao Shidan died so heroically, and that villain Di Qing won so gloriously. Even that Huaixi Prince Wang Anshi was able to defeat you so thoroughly that you had no fight left in you—you’d have been better off dead. What excuses are you making now? Blaming me, blaming Wen Yanbo—we sent you into battle to win the war for the Great Song, not to sacrifice your soldiers and bring utter disgrace upon us!” Such was Chen Shu’s fate. Victory is celebrated; defeat is condemned. Winning, of course, is easy to talk about—after all, so-called achievements are a cure-all. But when you lose, there’s nothing to say. This is why the mindset of “doing nothing is not making a mistake” became so prevalent in Song Dynasty politics.