"So, the people of the future actually want me to go and be Liu Bei's son?"
Li Shimin knitted his brows together, thoroughly convinced that future generations had collectively lost their minds.
"It is merely idle chatter from the common folk of the future, Your Majesty. There is no need to take it to heart," Wuji offered quickly, ever the reliable buffer.
"Besides, they did not choose other emperors. They did not even mention legends like Han Xin or Bai Qi. This only proves that the people of the future are utterly convinced of Your Majesty's military supremacy!"
This piece of flattery seemed to soothe Li Shimin's ruffled ego.
He let out a long, contemplative sigh. "The Marquis Wu's Northern Expeditions... was he not essentially employing Sun Wu's ancient strategy of exhausting the Chu State?
Using ten thousand troops to harass an army of a hundred thousand, trading the rations of a thousand men for the supplies of ten thousand enemies.
Even if Cao Wei held ten times the land, such pressure is impossible to sustain."
"Your Majesty's insight is profound," Wuji added, never missing a single beat.
"However, this concept of transmigration from the future is quite intriguing..." Li Shimin's expression shifted into one of genuine fascination. "If one could serve as the commander of the Cao Wei forces, leading a grand formation to clash against the righteous banners of the Marquis Wu... that would surely be one of life's greatest pleasures!"
Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui felt their eyelids twitch in unison. Your Majesty, that is not what you were saying a moment ago.
But Li Shimin quickly shook his head, dismissing the thought entirely. "No. Playing the role of that Sima Yi would be far too disgusting."
The two ministers breathed a silent sigh of relief, only to hear the Emperor of the Great Tang continue with his orders. "Those terms mentioned earlier. Instant noodles, hairdryers, and the like. Make a copy of them and hand them over to the students at the Imperial Academy. See if they can find any inspiration. Just say... ah, say they were discovered by chance among the ancient texts of the sages."
This was, in truth, what fascinated Li Shimin the most. Rocket troopers? Protoss Carriers? They sounded incredibly formidable. But what on earth was a nuclear bomb? Could the pit of a fruit truly be turned into a weapon?
As the Emperor pondered, the music from the light screen grew increasingly tender.
A plump-faced emperor appeared on screen, walking like a puppet in a grand funeral procession.
Li Shimin understood immediately. This was the future's dramatization of the funeral of Zhuge Liang. He leaned in to listen. For such a somber event, the accompaniment was a man's voice, singing in a low, soulful chant.
Binding his hair to read the classics, cultivating both virtue and self. Looking up at the stars and down at the earth, strategies stored within his breast.
While tilling the fields, he never forgot his worry for the state.
Who knew his hot blood remained hidden in the mountain forests? Oh Fengchu, oh Fengchu, longing to soar high.
In times of chaos and danger, he brooded long in silence.
In Gong'an, Pang Tong fell silent. The song brought back memories of their days as recluses in Nanyang.
Back then, he, Kongming, and the Four Friends of Nanyang were all idle men. Kongming fretted over the fate of the nation while Pang Tong sat back and judged the heroes of the realm.
A few short years had passed in the blink of an eye. They had transformed from outsiders watching the game into the very pieces on the board.
The thatched hut received three visits, knees pressed together in grand discourse.
Half a lifetime spent meeting a soulmate, the hibernating dragon deeply moved.
Tomorrow he shall take his sword and follow his lord, with a feather fan and silk cap, heading into the dust of war.
Oh Wolong, oh Wolong, a meeting of wind and clouds. With one long whistle, he unburdens his heart.
Liu Bei tilted his head back, listening intently, memorizing every single word. The future saw him as Kongming's soulmate.
Yet his own rage at Yiling had cut off Kongming's path forward. If not for the losses at Yiling, would Kongming have had to work himself to such a point? Liu Bei's heart constricted with a sharp, familiar sting of guilt.
Return, oh return, that was my original wish. To spend my remaining years as a simple farmer once more.
With the clear breeze and bright moon in my embrace, let the monkeys and cranes hear me play the zither again.
Huang Yueying leaned her head against her husband's shoulder, saying nothing. Kongming understood the unspoken weight behind her silence.
He patted her hand gently and whispered a quiet promise. "I will not die young. We will return to Nanyang."
[Lightscreen]
[The Song of Achievement, also known as the Wolong Yin, is this uneducated streamer's favorite track from the old Three Kingdoms series.
The prelude sketches the life and ideals of the Prime Minister during his seclusion in the Southern Commandery. Maintaining his purity without seeking fame, yet worrying for the world with a grand ambition.
This contradictory state of mind is the true essence of the title Wolong, the Crouching Dragon.
The middle section is the famous Three Visits to the Thatched Hut, where the Prime Minister officially stepped onto the stage of history.
The teaching farmer of Nanyang finally experienced the meeting of wind and clouds.
The final section is a crescendo of emotion. The female harmonies feel like Huang Yueying encouraging her husband to seek peace for the people.
Or perhaps it is our own complex feelings toward the Prime Minister across the centuries.
What if the mandate of heaven is hard to find?
What if success or failure depends on human planning?
All that remains is to give one's all until death!
And finally, there is the regret we all share.
We truly wish the Prime Minister could have fulfilled his ambition and returned to Nanyang in his later years to enjoy the peaceful world he helped create.]
Kongming could feel his wife's grip on his hand tighten even further.
He gently stroked her back to comfort her and praised the music. "A fine song. A fine melody. When I have a moment of leisure, playing the zither and singing this would be quite an elegant pursuit."
Zhang Fei did not understand music theory, but he had already found a new target. "Return to Nanyang to farm? How is that difficult? Leave this matter entirely to your Second Brother!"
Guan Yu nodded with solemn, iron-clad resolve. Looking at his expression, one would think reclaiming Nanyang was a task as sacred as restoring the Han Dynasty itself.
Kongming shook his head and laughed.
He wanted to say that now he knew how vast the world truly was, he actually wished to visit Great Qin, the land of the Wa, and that Land of Gems known as Ceylon. But since Zhang Fei had put it that way, Kongming could only nod.
"Then I shall thank Yunchang in advance!"
[Lightscreen]
[Before his death, the Prime Minister left his final instructions.
Bury me at Mount Dingjun. Use the mountain itself as my tomb, and make the pit just large enough to fit the coffin.
As for burial goods, just include the clothes I usually wear. No treasures. Nothing more.
Liu Shan ultimately followed his Xiangfu's wish. After suspending court for three days to mourn, he buried the Prime Minister at Mount Dingjun.
After his passing, people across Shu Han begged for temples to be built in his honor.
Following Han tradition, which had no precedent for this, the court refused. So the common people began burning paper offerings for him by the roadsides during festivals.
In the sixth year of Jingyao, just before the fall of the state, Liu Shan missed his Xiangfu once again and ordered a shrine to be built at the tomb on Mount Dingjun.
This was the very first Marquis Wu Temple. That same year, when Zhong Hui led the invasion of Shu and passed Mount Dingjun, he specifically ordered that no one was allowed to cut wood or forage near the shrine.
He became the first man in history to protect the Prime Minister's tomb.
The Prime Minister's final letter was addressed to Liu Shan, and it laid everything bare.
Your servant has relied entirely on his salary for all these years. In my home in Chengdu, there are eight hundred mulberry trees and fifteen qing of land. This is enough for my family to live on. If there is any excess wealth found in my home, then the Zhuge family has failed the state.
Liu Shan's eulogy for the Prime Minister was incredibly moving.
He recalled their history together and the achievements of the expeditions from Mount Qi. He lamented that the Prime Minister had left far too soon and ultimately granted him the posthumous title of Zhongwu. Loyal and Martial.
The title Zhongwu became the highest possible praise for a minister.
We are familiar with many who received it later.
Li Shimin's beloved general Yuchi Jingde.
Guo Ziyi, who salvaged the last shred of the Tang Dynasty's dignity.
Han Shizhong, the face of the Southern Song.
And Yue Fei, the very backbone of the Great Song.
We know what happened next.
Zhuge Zhan was taken into the palace to be raised by Liu Shan and given great responsibilities.
Eventually, both Zhuge Zhan and his son Zhuge Shang died in service to their country. You might think the Prime Minister was just okay, but almost everyone you think is great thought the Prime Minister was legendary.
Nearly every literary giant in history. Li Bai, Du Fu, Liu Yuxi, Bai Juyi, Su Shi, Lu You, Xin Qiji, and countless others.
They have sung the Prime Minister's name for a thousand years. Will his name continue to be sung?
I believe so. As Du Fu wrote in two perfect lines of poetry. Though your bodies and names shall perish, it will not stop the eternal flow of the rivers.]
"What a poem!"
Even the usually blunt Zhang Fei was instantly sold. "This Du Fu who admires the Military Advisor so much... he is truly something!"
Pang Tong liked it as well. "A fine poem indeed. Kongming is like the Yellow River or the Yangtze. Even after a thousand years, he is remembered and praised."
I hope I get that kind of treatment too, he added silently to himself.
Jian Yong hit the nail on the head. "Kings, lords, and ministers all seek to have their names last as long as the state.
Now it seems Yunchang and Kongming have achieved something far greater. Their names last as long as the Han itself! As long as the Han is remembered for a thousand years, they will be sung for a thousand years. If the Han endures for ten thousand years, Yunchang's name of righteousness and Kongming's name of Zhongwu will endure for ten thousand years!"
Ten thousand years. The group felt a momentary sense of vertigo at the sheer vastness of the thought.
Zhang Fei suddenly remembered something the other Second Brother on the screen had said. Though the body dies, the name may live on in the scrolls of history! He was growing increasingly envious. Compared to this, carving his name into a cliffside seemed like little more than child's play.
Huang Zhong and Wei Yan both made silent, ironclad vows in their hearts. Achieve merit. Build a temple. Let our names ring out for a thousand years under the banner of the Han!
Liu Bei smiled softly to himself. The eternal embodiment of wisdom? That is my Chancellor!
The Great Emperor Who Subdues Demons of the Three Realms and the Holy Lord Guan? That is my Second Brother!
In this life shown on the light screen alone, I, Liu Bei, have already surpassed Sun and Cao by a thousand miles!
Just then, the scene on the light screen shifted, returning to the Marquis Wu Temple they had seen before. A group of teenagers in school uniforms was touring the temple, led by a man who looked like a teacher.
The children could not fully grasp the weight of the place, but that did not stop them from being intimately familiar with the man honored there.
Perhaps someone started out of boredom, or perhaps a young boy was genuinely moved. At first, it was just a few scattered voices.
But then the teenagers began to recite the Memorial on the Beginning of the Expedition in unison.
"The Late Emperor's grand work was not yet half complete when he passed away... Favor virtuous ministers and distance yourself from petty men. This is why the Early Han flourished..."
"Your servant was originally a commoner, tilling the fields in Nanyang... Since receiving my orders, I have sighed in worry both day and night, fearing I would fail the trust placed in me... Now as I depart, I am moved to tears as I write this, and I know not what to say."
The voices grew louder and louder as other tourists in the temple joined in. Finally, when the recitation ended, the visitors burst into spontaneous applause and laughter before slowly dispersing.
Seeing this, Kongming finally, quietly, let his tears fall.
[Lightscreen]
[Someone once asked: If you could write a letter to the Prime Minister, what would you say?
One person said: I just want to tell him not to work so hard. What harm is there in letting others handle the small things?
Another said: I want to thank him. His writings and his deeds gave me strength at a certain point in my life.
And so, young people carrying these thoughts have come from all corners of the world to the Marquis Wu Temple. I, your uneducated streamer, also have something to say. About those successors the Prime Minister trusted with the future.
Adou may have ultimately disappointed the Prime Minister, but that is all right.
Only a piece of rotten wood is left of him in the temple.
Zhuge Zhan may have lacked a father's love and made some mistakes, but he ultimately died guarding the dignity of Shu Han.
Jiang Wan was called the Pillar of the State after you, but he shared your fatal flaw of dying far too young.
And Jiang Wei? You did not live to see his stubbornness. He launched nine expeditions into the Central Plains, trying to make the sun and moon shine again from the darkness.
Across a thousand years, everyone knows it was he who wrote a dignified, honorable ending for the tale of Shu Han.
Prime Minister. In your life, you used your very existence to repay Liu Bei's trust. And you repaid Liu Shan's willingness to let you lead.
Failure may be a recurring theme throughout life, but you used your life to ignite a monument that transcends time itself.
Countless people of China take you as their role model, and the Marquis Wu Temple will still be standing a thousand years from now. Prime Minister.
A thousand years from now, there will still be people like me who remember you.]