I, Am a Living Yama; Empress Advises Me to Stay Calm

Zhao Ji did not hesitate. “Let’s do as you suggest. Quickly summon Cai Jing—I need to discuss the peace negotiations with Great Zhou.”
A faint smile crossed Li Yan’s lips, a glint of cunning flashing in his eyes. If Yue Fei returned victorious, he was as good as dead. Fortunately, there was still a chance to turn things around.
Days passed.
In the Zhou army camp, a scout respectfully reported,
“General, the envoy from the Song Dynasty has arrived. He traveled from the southern official road, most likely sent by the Emperor of Song himself.”
Heichi Changzhi chuckled and turned to the officers beside him.
“Looks like our money was well spent. Li Yan and Cai Jing are working hard.”
The officers nodded, smiles appearing on their faces.
Heichi Changzhi sighed. “With traitors like these, no wonder Song is doomed.”
He waved a hand. “Bring out a banquet for our distinguished guest from the Song Dynasty.”
A short while later, under the escort of a Great Zhou officer, a middle-aged man with a pale, beardless face entered. The officer greeted him with a wide grin.
“Ambassador, please, have a seat. General Heichi Changzhi has prepared a feast in your honor. Please enjoy.”
Liang Shicheng eyed the soldier curiously, suspicion creeping into his mind.
If so, that was good news—it meant negotiations would go smoothly. He was here on a direct mission from Zhao Ji, after all.
He settled into his seat as more attendants brought out fine wine. The warmth of their welcome left him momentarily puzzled, but he quickly dismissed his doubts. After the long and exhausting journey, he had no qualms about indulging in the generous spread before him.
Before long, Heichi Changzhi entered, flanked by his officers. Liang Shicheng remained composed. Though Heichi had once driven their forces into retreat, the tides had turned. Song held the advantage now. Besides, as a trusted confidant of the emperor and a high-ranking eunuch in the palace, he had his own sense of pride.
Heichi Changzhi gave him a slight nod. “So, you are the envoy from Song? How should I address you?”
Liang Shicheng straightened and spoke with a hint of arrogance.
“I am Liang Shicheng, Supervisor of the Song Dynasty.”
Feigning surprise, Heichi Changzhi frowned. “Supervisor? A palace official? So, you were sent by the Emperor of Song and not by General Yue?”
Liang Shicheng was momentarily stunned. Cunning as he was, he hadn’t expected Heichi Changzhi to phrase it this way.
He hesitated before responding, “Of course, I am not Yue Fei’s envoy. I was sent by His Majesty to discuss peace between our nations—”
He didn’t even get to finish before Heichi Changzhi waved him off.
“Since you are not an envoy of General Yue, I have military matters to attend to. Zhang Lei, take care of this guest.”
Without another word, Heichi turned on his heel and strode away, leaving behind a stunned Liang Shicheng and a handful of Great Zhou soldiers.
Liang Shicheng was furious. He had come as the emperor’s representative to negotiate matters of state, yet the Great Zhou general hadn’t even deigned to meet with him personally? Instead, they sent a deputy?
Zhang Lei gave him a cursory glance before ordering,
“Since he is not General Yue’s envoy, remove the banquet.”
At once, the soldiers moved forward, clearing away the lavish spread of fine wine and delicacies. In their place, they set down a bowl of plain porridge and a plate of pickled radish.
Liang Shicheng’s breath caught in his throat, rage simmering beneath the surface. Suppressing the fury threatening to boil over, he demanded coldly, “What is the meaning of this?”
Zhang Lei raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
Liang Shicheng pointed at the meager meal before him, his voice shaking with indignation.
“Why was the food replaced?”
Zhang Lei’s tone remained indifferent.
“The banquet was prepared for General Yue Fei’s envoy, not for you. This porridge and radish are quite sufficient—you should make do.”
Liang Shicheng’s fury was almost tangible. His fists clenched, veins throbbing on his forehead. In Song, no one dared to treat him like this. And now, here he was, belittled by enemy soldiers? His chest heaved with indignation.
Yue Fei again. Even here, the soldiers of Great Zhou only cared about Yue Fei. They had no regard for the emperor at all.
Back in Song, in the imperial court, Liang Shicheng recounted his humiliation, his face livid.
“Your Majesty, it was outrageous! Those Great Zhou soldiers completely disregarded you. The moment they realized I was your envoy and not Yue Fei’s, they left, removed the banquet, and replaced it with plain porridge and pickled radish. Their actions suggest clear collusion with Yue Fei!”
Zhao Ji’s face burned with shame and anger. He had sent Liang Shicheng as his representative, only for him to suffer such an insult?
The most infuriating part was that, at first, they had mistaken Liang for Yue Fei’s envoy and treated him with high honors.
Has Yue Fei’s reputation become more valuable than mine? Or is he conspiring with Great Zhou?
Humiliation coursed through him, and he clenched his fists in rage. His own envoy had been treated as a mere afterthought, while Yue Fei commanded unquestioned respect. His voice trembled with fury.
“Issue an edict. Call Yue Fei back immediately! I will strip him of his command!”
Cai Jing and the others exchanged glances before hurriedly bowing. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Days later, in the Song army camp, Yue Fei addressed his officers, his voice brimming with determination.
“We now hold the advantage. Our scouts report that the reinforcements from Great Zhou have yet to arrive. It is clear they have abandoned the idea of sending support. This is our chance to reclaim the North!”
The soldiers’ spirits soared. Their eyes burned with hope. The North—their homeland—was within reach.