klisemfg Chapter 365 The Eldest Princess is About to Rebel 26 (The End)
Chapter 365 The Eldest Princess is About to Rebel 26 (The End)
When Ji Zhao was three years old, the new summer brought an unprecedented harvest.
Golden waves of wheat stretched from the north to the south, and the sound of camel bells from caravans echoed day and night along the Silk Road.
This land, once ravaged by war, is now filled with schools and clinics, and even in the most remote mountain villages, the sound of children reciting the "New Summer Laws" can be heard.
On this day, Ji Xiaosong led Ji Zhao to inspect the newly built canal.
The little one, dressed in a miniature version of the consul's robes, followed his mother with a serious expression. His silver hair was tied in a small bun, and his bright blue eyes curiously observed everything.
"Mother, why does the river bend?" he asked, pointing to the section of the river that had been artificially diverted.
Ji Xiaosong squatted down to look him in the eye: "Because there's a village over there that needs water."
"Oh." Ji Zhao tilted his head and thought for a moment, "What if another village also needs water?"
"Then let's dig another tributary."
"What if even the tributaries aren't enough?"
Ashina Yun picked up her son from behind and pinched his nose with a smile: "Then let my Zhao'er think of a better way."
Ji Zhao's eyes lit up, and he immediately started gesturing excitedly: "I know! We can build a machine that makes rain!"
The surrounding officials couldn't help but chuckle, but Ji Xiaosong seemed lost in thought.
She looked at the lush farmland on both sides of the canal and suddenly said, "Order the Ministry of Works to conduct a trial of artificial rainmaking in the drought-stricken areas next spring."
Everyone was stunned. Ashina Yun raised an eyebrow: "Is he truly in power?"
“Why not?” Ji Xiaosong gently stroked her son’s soft silver hair. “The future of Xinxia should be created by those who dare to think and act.”
This statement quickly spread throughout the court and the public.
Some people scoffed, saying that the ruling party was spoiling its son excessively;
Some people were secretly delighted, feeling that they had finally waited for an opportunity for change.
But no one expected that this opportunity to "dare to think and dare to act" would come so quickly.
The following spring, the Ministry of Works erected twelve "rain-praying platforms" that were ten feet high in the drought-stricken northwest region.
When the craftsmen operated the mechanism to shoot the specially made gunpowder into the clouds according to the sketch drawn by Xiao Ji Zhao, the onlookers just thought it was a spectacle.
It wasn't until the large raindrops pounded against the cracked fields and the old farmer knelt in the mud, wailing and crying, that everyone realized what this meant.
Three months later, the first book on artificial rainmaking was published and distributed by the government.
On the title page of the book, five-year-old Ji Zhao's childish handwriting is prominently displayed: "If the sky doesn't rain, we'll make it rain ourselves."
Ashina Yun took his son and ran all over the capital's taverns that night, getting the old Confucian scholars who said "the ruler's favored son is ruining the country" completely drunk, and forcing them to admit to the nursery rhyme collection that it was indeed "the ruler's favored son is ruining the country".
Ji Xiaosong watched the father and son fooling around from the palace wall, shaking her head with a light laugh.
In the memorial she held, the Ministry of Works was applying to promote this technology to southern Xinjiang, a desert that had been arid for over a hundred years.
*
On the day of Ji Zhao's fifth birthday, a sudden earthquake struck the northern border.
When the news reached the Executive Government, Ji Xiaosong was reviewing memorials.
She immediately threw down her pen and stood up, only to see Ashina Yun already standing outside the hall, armored and sword in hand.
“I’ll go,” he said briefly. “You stay in the capital.”
Ji Xiaosong stared at him for a moment, then slowly nodded: "Bring Zhao'er along."
Ashina Yun's pupils contracted slightly: "He's still young..."
"Let him see the true state of the nation." Ji Xiaosong placed the military command token in his son's hand, "and let him see how his mother protects this land."
The devastation in the North was far worse than imagined.
The mountain collapsed, the river was blocked, and half of the city of Ankang sank underground.
Zhao Wushang was leading the border troops in a search and rescue operation in the ruins when he saw Ashina Yun. He was clearly taken aback, and his gaze fell on Xiao Ji Zhao with even more complicated emotions.
"What are the casualties?" Ashina Yun asked directly.
"Over ten thousand dead or wounded," Zhao Wushang said hoarsely. "The granaries are completely destroyed, and medicinal herbs are in short supply..."
Before he could finish speaking, a small figure rushed towards the ruins.
"Zhao'er!"
Ashina Yun hurriedly chased after him, only to find his son squatting in front of a collapsed roof beam, struggling to clear away the rubble.
There was a little girl lying on the ground, barely alive.
"Father! Come quick, help!"
At that moment, Ashina Yun saw in her son's eyes the same resolute determination as Ji Xiaosong.
He silently drew his sword and cleaved the heavy beam in two.
In the days that followed, Ji Zhao traveled to almost every corner of the disaster area.
He shared his provisions with the orphans, comforted the elderly who had lost their homes with his tender voice, and even directed his servants to build a simple school.
Most shockingly, he proposed a bold idea: "Why not build the new city on the other side of the mountain? The ground there is solid, and there are hot springs!"
Zhao Wushang initially intended to laugh it off, but after surveying the terrain, he was filled with awe.
The suggestion of a five-year-old child was more reasonable than the blueprints drawn up by the Ministry of Works over many years.
On the day of his return to the capital, the streets were deserted as everyone flocked to see him.
The people eagerly awaited a glimpse of the legendary child prodigy, only to find the silver-haired young master sleeping soundly in his father's arms, still clutching half a piece of malt candy that hadn't yet been given away.
Ji Xiaosong personally greeted them at the city gate.
She took her sleeping son from him and asked softly, "How are you?"
Ashina Yun gazed at the myriad lights of the capital and suddenly smiled: "Our son will be a more outstanding ruler than you in the future."
“Not in power,” Ji Xiaosong corrected, “but initiator.”
*
Ten years later, at the age of fifteen, Ji Zhao proposed a plan to abolish the hereditary system.
"If my mother could become a leader through her talent, why can't I run for office?"
He declared emphatically in the council chamber, "I want the world to know that this position is not based on bloodline, but on ability!"
The veteran officials were in uproar, but the young officials were filled with enthusiasm.
Ji Xiaosong publicly tore up the edict granting Ji Zhao special privileges: "As you wish."
*
Five years later, at the age of twenty, Ji Zhao was elected as the second ruler of the new Xia dynasty with a high number of votes.
At his inauguration, the first thing he did was issue the Abolition Edict, and the second thing he did was marry a peasant girl.
Ashina Yun was so angry she jumped up and down: "You brat! So many noble ladies..."
“Alright.” Ji Xiaosong, whose hair was starting to turn white, pulled her husband back. “Isn’t this exactly what we wanted? A new Xia who doesn’t care about social status.”
*
Many years later, historians continued to debate the matter.
Some say Ji Xiaosong ushered in a golden age, while others say Ji Zhao was the true reformer.
But no matter how it's recorded, it will always end with the same words:
"In the 120th year of the new Xia calendar, the regent Ji Zhao abdicated and passed the throne to a virtuous and capable person elected by the people. From then on, there were no more hereditary successions in the land of Kyushu, and only the talented were chosen. Ji and his wife retired to the Western Regions and lived out their lives at the foot of the snow mountain. Their son Ji Zhao had no children of his own, but adopted dozens of orphans, all of whom took their mother's surname."
In the footnote on the last page, there is an interesting anecdote:
It is said that in his later years, Ji Zhao returned to the canal where he used to play as a child and said to himself as he looked at the flowing water, "Mother, I did it."
The wind blew across the wheat field, as if carrying a distant reply.