While Sun Simiao was still standing outside the heavy wooden doors of Ganlu Hall, quietly wondering what had gathered such an unusual group of men together, he was ushered inside.
Before his eyes could fully adjust to the dim hall, something was suddenly placed into his hands.
It felt cool against his palms. Under the candlelight, the sheen of gold immediately caught his eye.
The imperial craftsmen had hammered refined gold into a rectangular foil card. Eight large characters were engraved across the surface with silver inlay.
Sun Simiao lowered his gaze and slowly read the inscription aloud.
"A Universal Celebration. The Genesis of a Prosperous Era."
"His Majesty's ambitions reach far beyond the horizon," Du Ruhui said with a smile. "We must continue to do our utmost."
"This prosperous age will surely endure for more than a century!" Zhangsun Wuji declared proudly.
Sun Simiao said nothing. He merely ran his thumb across the surface of the golden card. In the upper right corner were three small engraved characters: Medicine King Sun. In the lower left corner was the imperial signature: Li Shimin of the Great Tang.
Glancing around the hall, Sun Simiao quickly realized that every minister present held a similar gold card in his hands. The words differed slightly from person to person, but the meaning remained the same.
Standing in the middle of the hall, Li Shimin looked thoroughly satisfied.
"Last year, we defeated Illig Qaghan," Li Shimin said slowly. "We washed away the humiliation of the Wei River and restored the prestige of the Great Tang across the steppe. For this victory, Li Jing and Li Shiji deserve the greatest credit."
Li Shimin paused and swept his gaze across the gathered ministers.
"But from this year onward," he declared, "I expect all of you to unite as one. We will open the Western Regions, connect the lands within the four seas, and together build a truly prosperous Great Tang!"
The civil and military officials immediately bowed in unison.
"We are willing to devote our lives to the Great Tang!"
Off to the side, Yan Lide exchanged a bewildered glance with Sun Simiao. Neither of them understood what was happening.
Yan Lide, especially, felt as though his understanding of reality was starting to crack apart.
Just last year, Yan Liben had still been privately complaining about the Emperor's eccentric behavior. But now, his younger brother stood in the front row clutching the golden card, his face full of excitement and admiration.
For a moment, Yan Lide even began doubting himself.
Wait... was it Liben who followed His Majesty to Luoyang, or was it me? Did I somehow lose a portion of my memory?
Li Shimin, meanwhile, had no intention of explaining the matter of the light screen to the two newcomers.
Especially not to Sun Simiao.
If the old physician suddenly pulled out that little notebook again and started examining him on the spot, where would the dignity of the Son of Heaven go?
Sweeping his gaze past the bewildered Yan Lide and the silent Sun Simiao, Li Shimin stepped forward and picked up a jade wine cup from the table.
This gathering was not merely a court banquet. Just like the gold foil cards distributed earlier, it served two purposes at once. One was to celebrate the victory over Illig Qaghan and the restoration of Tang prestige. The other was to hold a private New Year gathering for the men who stood at the center of the empire.
The tables of Ganlu Hall had long been prepared with imported grape wine. Under the lamplight, the dark red liquid shimmered softly within the jade cups.
But before Li Shimin could raise the cup to his lips, Sun Simiao suddenly stepped forward.
His posture was calm and steady, neither overbearing nor humble.
"Your Majesty suffers from chronic head afflictions caused by wind-dampness," Sun Simiao said plainly. "You should not drink alcohol."
The smile on Li Shimin's face immediately stiffened.
Zhangsun Wuji quickly stepped in from the side.
"For the past half year, His Majesty has barely touched fatty meat," he argued. "His daily meals have already become extremely light. Surely one cup of wine on such an occasion will not matter?"
Sun Simiao slowly turned toward him.
His gaze swept over Zhangsun Wuji with the calm seriousness of a physician examining a stubborn patient.
"So Chancellor Zhangsun means," Sun Simiao replied evenly, "that half a year of careful recovery should be ruined in a single morning?"
Zhangsun Wuji opened his mouth, ready to argue back, but the words halted midway.
Medicine King.
The title alone was enough.
And after personally witnessing Sun Simiao's medical skill, Zhangsun Wuji suddenly felt that offending this old physician was a very unwise decision.
Who knows when I, or my family, might desperately need this old hermit to save our lives?
Swallowing his pride, the highest-ranking Chancellor of the Tang quietly closed his mouth, took two steps back, and conceded defeat.
Li Shimin, meanwhile, showed no displeasure at all. He simply laughed, then placed the jade cup back onto the table.
"We shall follow the Medicine King's instructions."
The atmosphere immediately relaxed.
The ministers gradually split into smaller groups, drinking wine and chatting amongst themselves. Nearby, Yan Lide stood listening as Yan Liben whispered an increasingly unbelievable story into his ear.
From time to time, Yan Lide's gaze drifted toward the blank wall at the far end of Ganlu Hall. The more he listened, the stranger his expression became, until he finally turned and shot Li Shimin a deeply resentful look.
Li Shimin, however, was busy speaking quietly with Sun Simiao.
Rather than discussing state affairs, he was explaining the concepts of "genetics" and "hereditary traits" that he had learned from the light screen.
Sun Simiao's eyes gradually brightened with interest.
"Where did Your Majesty learn such theories?" he asked slowly. "These ideas offer an entirely new perspective on hereditary illness."
Li Shimin only smiled and tilted his chin toward the blank wall.
Sun Simiao blinked in confusion.
But a moment later, the air before them suddenly distorted.
A thin black crack quietly appeared above the floor and rapidly spread upward. In the blink of an eye, a massive crimson-and-black light screen unfolded directly in front of Sun Simiao.
Caught completely off guard, Sun Simiao inhaled sharply and staggered backward.
Before he could fall, a hand firmly grabbed his arm and pulled him upright again.
Li Shimin had clearly been waiting for this moment for quite some time. The Emperor could barely suppress the smile on his face as he steadied the old physician.
"Tell me, My Beloved Minister," Li Shimin said leisurely, "how long have you suffered from this condition of being unable to stand properly?"
Meanwhile, far away in Chengdu, Xu Shu sat silently in the administrative hall.
Even though he was seated firmly in a wooden chair, he still felt as though his mind had yet to return to earth.
"So the land beneath our feet... is actually a sphere suspended in the void?"
"And the descendants of Huaxia have truly built palaces among the heavens?"
"There is no Jade Rabbit or Moon Palace on the moon... only a massive crater named after Zhang Heng?"
Xu Shu slowly let out a long breath.
"How astonishing..." he murmured softly. "To live an entire lifetime without witnessing such things for oneself truly feels like a great regret."
Under normal circumstances, such lamenting would naturally invite a few words of consolation.
But this matter was different.
This was the vastness of heaven and earth itself.
Liu Bei, Zhuge Liang, Liu Ba, Mi Zhu, Zhang Song, and Zhang Fei all nodded in agreement.
"To never witness such things with our own eyes truly is life's greatest regret," Liu Bei sighed.
Xu Shu lightly flicked his fingernail against his wine cup. A clear ringing sound echoed softly through the hall.
He was not the only one feeling regret over missing such sights.
He wasn't the only one feeling the sting of missing out. Far away, Fa Zheng and Zhao Yun were undoubtedly sharing the sentiment.
Three months earlier, Zhao Yun had personally escorted Liu Zhang to Jiangling so the former ruler could peacefully spend the rest of his life as an idle noble. Because of that assignment, Zhao Yun had completely missed everything related to the light screen.
Fa Zheng, meanwhile, had chosen to remain in Hanzhong to oversee its defenses.
Even if he had known beforehand that the light screen would soon appear, he still would not have abandoned the front lines so easily. Hanzhong was too important.
But understanding that he had made the correct military decision did not lessen the regret of missing a glimpse of the future.
Only after Pang Tong repeatedly urged him did Fa Zheng finally agree to return briefly to Chengdu and rotate shifts.
Even with both Zhang Fei and Fa Zheng temporarily absent from Hanzhong, the northern defenses remained extremely secure. Pang Tong, Wei Yan, Huo Jun, and Guan Ping were more than enough to hold the passes against Yongzhou and Liangzhou.
On the other side of the hall, the famed physician Zhang Zhongjing had practically cornered Zhuge Liang and was firing question after question at him.
The meaning behind the interrogation was obvious.
Were these so-called auspicious signs truly real?
Zhang Zhongjing was a physician who trusted medicine and observation. He did not easily believe in ghosts or strange omens. But after seeing everyone from Liu Bei to Zhang Song swear that the visions were genuine, even his skepticism had begun to waver.
Fortunately, he did not need to wait much longer.
Under the knowing smiles of Liu Bei and the others, and Xu Shu's gradually widening eyes, the familiar light screen slowly unfolded in the middle of the hall.
Centuries later, inside a dimly lit bedroom, Wen Mang rubbed his hands together.
Although the video platform supported scheduled uploads, he still preferred publishing videos manually. To him, personally clicking the upload button carried a certain sense of ceremony.
It also gave him a chance to see what terrible browser game Bilibili was trying to recommend this week.
Driven by the instinctive urge to clear notification badges, Wen Mang clicked the small icon in the corner of the screen.
Just as expected.
The red notification bubble he had painstakingly cleared to zero yesterday had somehow returned to "2."
"No wonder there's a red dot," Wen Mang muttered. "Stop recommending this junk to me."
Too lazy to leave an actual complaint, he casually closed the advertisement page, entered the creator dashboard, and tossed some coins into the platform's [Boost Viewership] feature.
After taking a breath, he moved the cursor toward the button.
Click.
[Publish]
The Northern Song Dynasty. Bianjing. The Wende Hall.
Emperor Zhao Kuangyin was dressed in unusually casual clothes. A finely carved slingshot hung from the left side of his belt, while a small ornamental jade axe rested at his right hip.
And at this moment, the founding Emperor of the Song looked ready to kill someone.
The weather had been excellent that morning. Zhao Kuangyin had risen early, wandered into the rear gardens, and spent a thoroughly enjoyable time shooting birds from the trees with his slingshot.
Then, right in the middle of his leisure, a eunuch came sprinting into the gardens in complete panic, shouting that the Imperial Censor Zhang Ai had rung the Jingyang Bell, the emergency bell reserved for only the gravest affairs of state. According to the eunuch, Zhang Ai carried an urgent military matter that could not wait.
Fearing disaster along the northern frontier, Zhao Kuangyin had not even bothered changing into formal robes. He rushed straight to Wende Hall with the slingshot still hanging from his belt.
And what was this supposed catastrophe?
Zhang Ai spent half an hour rambling about the bureaucratic details involved in pacifying civilian sentiment in the recently conquered Shu region. No enemy invasion. No burning cities. No military collapse. Nothing remotely worthy of the Jingyang Bell.
After hearing the same logistical concerns repeated for the third time, Zhao Kuangyin's patience finally snapped.
"This is a matter no bigger than a garlic skin!" Zhao Kuangyin exploded, slapping his thigh. "And you dare disturb my leisure over this nonsense?"
But Zhang Ai, whose entire duty as censor was to challenge the Emperor directly, had come fully prepared. He did not retreat in the slightest.
"Your Majesty," Zhang Ai shot back, his voice echoing through the hall, "compared to the governance of the realm, Your Majesty shooting birds in the garden is the real garlic-skin matter."
Zhao Kuangyin's body reacted before his mind did.
Years spent on battlefields had carved instinct directly into his bones. Rage surged up in an instant. His hand snapped to his belt, and before anyone could react, the small jade axe had already flown from his hand toward Zhang Ai's face.
Smack.
The jade struck him square across the mouth.
Silence fell over Wende Hall.
Zhang Ai staggered backward, shaking his head once before slowly wiping the blood from his lips. Then, in front of the entire court, he bent down and calmly picked up the two broken front teeth lying on the floor. He tucked them into his robe with painstaking care.
Zhao Kuangyin narrowed his eyes and sneered.
What? Are you collecting your teeth so you can go to the magistrate and sue me?"
Zhang Ai raised his head. His expression remained perfectly calm.
"A minister cannot sue his sovereign. But the historians will certainly record today's events in the state annals."
Zhao Kuangyin froze.
The anger vanished instantly.
In its place came the horrifying realization that future generations were absolutely going to remember this as: The Emperor hurled an axe at a censor because he was interrupted while shooting birds.
The founding Emperor of Song stiffened awkwardly, then forced a painfully unnatural smile onto his face.
"My loyal minister," Zhao Kuangyin said dryly, "your devotion to the state is truly admirable. I shall reward you with gold and silk to compensate for your injuries."
A short while later, Zhang Ai walked proudly out of Wende Hall carrying bolts of fine silk and several heavy gold ingots.
The Emperor actually tried bribing me into silence.
Good. I'll make sure the historians record that too, Zhang Ai thought calmly, completely unconcerned by the cold air whistling through the gap where his front teeth used to be.
Back in the rear gardens, Zhao Kuangyin collapsed onto a stone bench in frustration. He tossed the jade axe back and forth between his hands before finally slamming it onto the stone table.
"I should have charged him with deceiving the sovereign," he muttered bitterly.
But even he knew it was too late for that now.
Letting out a long sigh, Zhao Kuangyin leaned forward, then abruptly stopped.
The stone table beneath him was glowing.
The carved Go board on its surface had vanished completely. In its place appeared a flat rectangle of light. Strange moving images flickered within it, accompanied by rhythmic music and a voice unlike anything he had ever heard before.
Zhao Kuangyin stared at his own hand.
Then he slowly looked back at the glowing table.
For the first time in many years, the battle-hardened face of the founding Emperor of Song showed undisguised shock.
[Lightscreen]
[Hey, hey, hey! Welcome back, everyone! Today, we're digging a brand-new hole in the Tang Dynasty timeline: the Anshi Rebellion.
Don't worry, the Three Kingdoms content will be updated once I gather enough material for the next episode. Thanks for the support~
So, without further ado, let's jump right into today's title:
An Lushan: The Absolute Best Spokesperson for the Great Tang Dream!]
[Server Chat Log]
[SwordOfLuoYang: Here we go! Talking about the Tang Dynasty without covering An Lushan is like trying to scratch an itch from outside your boot. The higher Emperor Taizong built that majestic, sprawling golden age, the harder it smashed into the concrete when it fell.
WanderingScholar: One of the twin pillars of the empire, literally forced into a corner and pushed to rebel. At the Battle of Xiangji Temple, the Tang Dynasty basically slashed its own artery and bled itself dry. It just proves the oldest rule of history: The fortress is always breached from the inside.
TeaHouseProphet: The single most devastatingly impactful rebellion in the history of Huaxia civilization. It violently terminated a century of unprecedented prosperity. It permanently severed our geopolitical expansion into Central Asia. It shattered the Silk Road. The martial, warrior spirit of the Chinese people basically died right here. The historical divergence between the military might of the Tang and the sheer weakness of the Song starts at this exact moment.
IronPlumBlossom: Let's be real, didn't Emperor Li Longji basically handcraft An Lushan's rebellion himself? And An Lushan only managed to breach Chang'an because Li Longji actively micromanaged his own defending generals into the grave. Once the rebellion kicked off, if they had literally tied a random stray dog to the throne instead of Li Longji, the war wouldn't have ended up that catastrophically bad.
DrunkenCicada: Come on, An Lushan went blind in the second year of his own rebellion and was murdered by his son in the third year. Yet the war still raged on for eight brutal years! It just proves he was merely the spark. The systemic rot was already there. Whether you tied a dog or a cat to the throne, if you can't resolve the underlying structural contradictions, the empire burns.
ColdMountainLunatic: The tension between the Guanzhong elites and the Hebei militarists. The economic divide between the North and the South. The ethnic friction between the Han and the Hu mercenaries. The vicious infighting among the central authorities. Honestly, it would have been a miracle if it DIDN'T explode.
Zhuge Liang: Your Majesty, Li Erfeng, I beg you, please remember to practice deep breathing. Cultivate inner peace. Do not have a stroke.]
By the time the stream of comments finished scrolling past, Zhao Kuangyin had already ordered the Imperial Guards to seal off the entire rear garden.
No one was permitted to approach. Any violator would be executed on the spot.
Under such strict orders, the founding Emperor of Song sat alone beside the stone table, staring fixedly at the light screen before him.
Back in Ganlu Hall, the lively atmosphere from earlier had vanished completely.
Yan Lide and Yan Liben stood together in a corner, whispering in low voices. Since the light screen had yet to reveal any grand architectural wonders worth sketching, the brothers decided instead to focus on memorizing the appearance of this "An Lushan" mentioned by later generations.
Unlike the previous times the screen appeared, Li Shimin did not immediately rise to argue with the future.
He sat motionless on the couch at the rear of the hall, staring silently at the glowing words on the screen.
The empire he had spent his entire life building.
The prosperous age he had fought wars to establish.
And in the future, all of it would still fall into ruin.
Sun Simiao watched the screen in silence. The appearance of the heavenly vision still shocked him, but the impossible nature of it no longer frightened him as much as before.
What unsettled him now was the silence inside the hall.
Moments ago, the Emperor had still been speaking proudly of opening the Western Regions and connecting the four seas. Now he sat there without moving, as if the weight of the entire empire had settled onto his shoulders.
After hesitating briefly, Sun Simiao stepped forward and quietly broke the silence.
"Your Majesty…" he asked gently. "Is this the source of the heart demon that troubles you?"
Li Shimin closed his eyes and gave a slow nod.
"And the Anatomical Chart of the Five Viscera you bestowed upon me… did it also come from this heavenly screen?"
Another nod.
Sun Simiao fell silent for a moment before speaking again in the calm tone of a physician diagnosing an illness.
"If this phenomenon can bestow medical knowledge capable of saving countless lives, then perhaps it can also resolve the burden in Your Majesty's heart."
He lowered his head slightly.
"The illness of the heart began with this screen. Perhaps its cure also lies within it."
Sun Simiao spoke only from the perspective of medicine and philosophy.
But Li Shimin's thoughts had already drifted elsewhere.
The warrior spirit of the Tang bred chaos and rebellion, Li Shimin thought, his fists slowly clenching in his lap. Is that why the Song Dynasty that follows us chooses to castrate its own military to maintain control?
The words of the light screen burned in his mind.
But if you deliberately cripple your own fangs and claws... when the wolves come to tear at your borders, and the nation's dignity is trampled into the dirt... what is the point of the empire existing at all?