After wrapping up the charity stuff, Wen Mang turned back to the pile of random gifts from the Big Boss.
"The Dazhen Yue? No way." He turned the bamboo slips over in his hands. "Every textbook says this score was lost a thousand years ago. I can't read ancient notation to save my life, but this craftsmanship is insane. Top-tier cosplay prop, right here."
He grabbed the next item. A cup shaped like a curved horn. Gorgeous. He tried to stand it on his desk. It tipped straight over.
"Right. Pointed bottom. Perfect for people who hate putting their drinks down." He caught it before it rolled off the edge and set it back in its padded box like it was made of glass.
Maybe I should hit up some of the bigger music streamers, he thought. If someone could actually perform this Dazhen Yue, the Big Boss would definitely notice. And keeping the Big Boss happy is basically rule one of content creation.
He started scrolling through his follower list, looking for a music nerd who had accidentally wandered into his history channel. That was when he spotted the red notification dot blinking in the corner of his dashboard.
"What the hell is 'Divergence Value'?" He squinted at the screen. "Is the platform trying to push another garbage browser game on me? Fine."
He clicked [Promote Silent Viewers to Official] just to make the red dot go away. There. Done. One less notification.
A message popped up. Dongfang Ye. A photo of a receipt and a short message: "Pick up your stuff later. I trust you. Also, update the damn channel faster."
Wen Mang grinned. He hit upload on the video he had been editing all afternoon.
---
In the Ganlu Hall, Li Shimin was still deep in discussion with Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui. The copy of the Sou Shen Ji on the table began to shimmer. The pages rustled open on their own.
[User Permissions Upgrading... Upgrade Complete. We wish you a pleasant experience.]
Li Shimin stared as a thin strand of light spun out from the book. It spread through the air, widening and stretching until a new light screen shimmered into view. This one was the size of a palace wall.
"Well," Li Shimin breathed.
Du Ruhui and Fang Xuanling exchanged a look of pure relief. A wall-sized screen meant transcribing just got ten times easier. More importantly, they now had an actual reason to bring in more ministers. This was no longer a private viewing. This was a court affair.
The two ministers pulled their desks closer, opened their ledgers, and looked up at the massive display.
[Lightscreen]
[Huge thanks to the Big Boss for the donation! Everything has been taken care of. The donor insisted on being called 'Zhuge, a commoner,' so that is what I put on the certificate.
The Big Boss also sent two items as tips for your favorite illiterate streamer. Internet, do your thing. What did I just get?]
The images appeared. Li Shimin looked at the first one and felt... nothing.
He knew the Dazhen Yue by heart. He had practically lived it. And the cup? He had thrown a dozen just like it in his younger, wilder days. Some in drunken toasts. Some at people.
But the last image, the donation certificate, made him pause.
"Thanks to 'Zhuge, a commoner' for donating to the Disaster Relief Committee... Love knows no borders..."
Zhuge, a commoner. Zhuge Liang?
Li Shimin stroked his beard. The pieces were starting to click. He had been watching these in-between segments closely. The writing style. The kind of items. A suspicion was forming.
He just needed one more piece of proof.
[Server Chat Log]
[NoScopeAgain: Oh wow, I caught this one early! The Dazhen Yue! But that score looks way too real. Which means it is definitely fake.
AFK_Since_2019: Boss was nice enough to use the Han five-tone scale: Gong, Shang, Jue, Zhi, Yu. But that paper is brand new. Last week, not last dynasty. Next!
RespawnPls: I know that cup. That is a rhyton! And this one looks like real rhino horn... Streamer, you almost went to jail. Again. Keep that one. Do not sell it. You will be in a cell before you can say endangered species.
LowPingDream: Rhino horns were everywhere in the Han, though. But the rhyton design came from Europe and the Middle East. Basically a Silk Road souvenir. Before Han, you never saw them. Southern Dynasties started making ceramic copies. By Tang, we had our own luxury versions.
LagKilledMe: Remember when the streamer talked about frontier poetry? There is that line: Fine grape wine in a night-glowing cup. Some people think the night-glowing cup was actually a rhyton. The hole at the bottom makes it perfect for drinking.
PatchDayVictim: My professor mentioned last year. Chinese rhinos have only been extinct about a hundred years. Hunted to death for medicine. Skin and blood.
InputDelay: Hahaha, you can thank the Qing for that one. Government banned peasants from hunting. Then sent the army to kill every last one. Officials wanted rhino horn gifts. The rhinos really had a run of bad luck.
HitboxIssues: There is a climate angle too. Around 500 BC, the north started getting cold. Rhinos like warmth. They moved south. Late Tang, the climate took a sharp dive into the freezer. The royal rhinos froze to death. Later, Tang and Song released rhinos down south. That was a nice gesture, at least.
ServerRollback: Streamer has now collected two high-risk items. At this rate, he is going to end up as a prison-tier content creator.]
Li Shimin did not care about the cup or the streamer's legal problems. His eyes were fixed on one line.
Climate took a sharp dive.
It got colder? How cold? Did the suffering of the people have something to do with this? And... did the fall of the Tang have a cold wind blowing behind it?
He remembered the discussion he'd just had with Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui about the "window of opportunity" mentioned by the future generations.
It seemed his descendants' penchant for being "subhuman" wasn't the only factor; the heavens might have been closing the door on them.
Du Ruhui did not wait for orders. "Your Majesty, I will immediately seek out experts on rhinoceroses. We need to determine exactly how cold it has to be to freeze such a rhino to death."
It was the most direct way to measure the coming winter of history.
Li Shimin nodded slowly. "And we need to look south."
He turned to the massive map on the wall. Long and narrow. The Silk Road was traced across it. Zhangye, Jiuquan, Wuwei, Dunhuang. All marked in bold ink.
For a moment, he could almost see Zhang Yichao, two hundred years from now, fighting like a demon on those very sands.
But the map was too narrow. It stopped at the Strait of Malacca.
Li Shimin's mind wandered for a moment, wondering if he could justify renaming that strait.
He asked, almost distractedly, "I wonder what the lands further south look like?"
"Developing the South might be premature, Your Majesty," Fang Xuanling reminded him gently. The time scales involved were too vast; an investment now might not show results for a century.
"Write it down," Li Shimin said, pushing the ambition back into his heart.
First, he would crush the idiots currently at his doorstep.
Then, he would expand.
Then, he would name things. As long as he, the Emperor of Tang, occupied a place, he could call it whatever he damn well pleased.
---
In Gong'an, Kongming looked slightly embarrassed." I didn't realize the future generations had a tradition of announcing the names of donors. I feel quite ashamed..."
"We should not have sent it in your name, Kongming," Mi Zhu said, though he was smiling. He had warned them that sending too much might cause trouble for their descendant. The future seemed to care a lot about tracing where things came from. So they had sent enough to help, not enough to overwhelm.
The others waved it off. "It is just a name,"
Zhang Fei said, standing and cupping his hands. "I should be the one thanking all of you for your generosity!"
Zhuozhou was, after all, the hometown of both Liu Bei and Zhang Fei. For them, the donation was a personal duty. The others returned the gesture with polite bows.
As for the news that the climate would turn cold in six hundred years? Nobody cared much. That was a problem for people who had not been born yet. At most, they felt a brief moment of pity for the peasants of the Late Tang.
Let your Invincible Emperor of a Thousand Years figure that one out.
"How can they call that score a fake?" Liu Bei asked, offended on Kongming's behalf.
"It was lost to history. They have no way to verify it," Kongming said easily. "As long as the music of the Han is not lost, that is enough."
But something darker crossed his mind. If a military march every soldier knew could be forgotten... how much of the Han's legacy has been erased? How many names turned to ash?
He remembered the fires of Luoyang. The capital had burned, and with it, countless manuscripts. Some men's entire lives had vanished in the smoke.
The hall fell quiet. Jian Yong's face, especially, looked bitter.
Huang Zhong, who had only recently joined them, was already famous for his deeds.
Jiang Wan was destined to be one of the Four Ministers.
But Jian Yong? A founding member. A veteran of the earliest days. And yet in the records, he seemed to just... fade. A footnote. A joke.
Sensing his friend's mood, Liu Bei spoke up. "Xianhe, once we finish here, would you come with me to Chengdu?"
Jian Yong's face lit up. "Ten thousand times over, my lord!"
---
Liu Bei had never felt so busy in his life.
After returning to Gong'an with Pang Tong, he had barely spent any time with Lady Gan or shared a quiet moment with Lady Sun before he had to pack again for Jiangzhou.
But before he could leave, Guan Yu caught him by the river.
"Move the families of all civil and military officials to Jiangling City?" Liu Bei mused, considering the proposal.
Guan Yu nodded. "The walls of Gongan are too low and weak to withstand a serious siege. Lately, the people of Jiangdong have been... restless."
The concern was valid. Liu Bei didn't hesitate. "Not just the families. Move all the secret documents and vital supplies from the county office to Jiangling as well. But we must still station strong garrison in Gongan.
We cannot afford to lose it."
Guan Yu caught his brother's look and understood. If Sun Quan went mad and occupied Gongan, only to find the light screen... it would be a disaster.
The two brothers walked the riverbank, looking across the water at Jiangling. Still under construction. Far from finished. But the crossbows on the walls already glinted in the sun.
Liu Bei thought of the siege weapons he had seen on the screen. "What if Sun Quan had those Eight-Bull Crossbows? The armored ladders Kongming is designing?"
Guan Yu shook his head with absolute confidence. "He still would not take it. Not while I am there."
"Good." Liu Bei felt a weight lift from his shoulders.
He looked at his second brother. Two years ago, Guan Yu's arrogance had been sharp. Now it had softened. He looked watchful. Focused.
Liu Bei was heading for Yizhou. The same road as the screen's history. But different this time.
"Jingzhou... I leave it to you, Yunchang."
Liu Bei clapped his brother on the shoulder and laughed, a free, easy sound.
---
In Dantu, the city was quieter now, but still busy.
Zhou Yu was dead. The only commander the local nobles feared. Sun Quan had returned to show his teeth, trying to hold Jiangdong together. So it was Lu Su who stayed to handle things.
Rubbing his face against the exhaustion, Lu Su looked at Bu Zhi. "How is that circular wheel coming?"
Bu Zhi, still recovering from the Jiaozhou disaster, tried to sound confident. "The water wheel itself is easy. But the machinery connected to it keeps jamming."
"Hire more men! Pay them double! Just get it done!"
The subordinates hurried out. Lu Su leaned back in his chair. He had once seen Liu Bei as a desperate refugee, a man with nowhere to go. Now he could not see through the man at all.
What the hell is happening on the other side of the river? he wondered.