Stepping back into Ganlu Hall, Liu Rengui released a long breath and forced himself to steady his thoughts.
Three months.
Three entire months had passed since the light screen first tore through his world and overturned everything he thought he knew. For three months, he had studied so intensely that he had nearly forgotten what a full night of sleep felt like.
He had also spent three months trying to accept the most unbelievable truth of all:
People living a thousand years in the future would remember his name.
And they would speak of him with approval.
Even now, it still felt like some fever dream.
But the hard wooden chair beneath him was real. Its unforgiving surface pressed against his back, anchoring him firmly in the present.
This was the fifth year of Zhenguan, 631 AD. Later that year, he would be sent to the naval command in Shandong. His Majesty had made his expectations perfectly clear.
Liu Rengui had no intention of disappointing him.
The atmosphere at court had shifted sharply. The war against Tuyuhun was like a bow drawn to its limit, the arrow already nocked and waiting to fly.
The empty seats in the hall said enough.
Li Jing. Li Shiji. Su Dingfang.
Some of the empire's most dangerous weapons had already departed, sent off to prepare for what was coming.
Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui sat shoulder to shoulder, their heads bent as they spoke in low voices about supplies and grain stores.
Everyone who understood warfare knew the truth.
Battles were often decided on paper and in full granaries long before anyone raised a sword.
Wei Zheng sat straight as a spear, scroll in hand, turning the pages slowly and steadily like he would finish that chapter even if the whole palace burned down around him.
The Yan brothers were busy with their own work too. Yan Lide whispered urgently to his younger brother, making quick, sharp little gestures with his hands. Yan Liben kept nodding along, wearing that classic look of someone who had agreed to a favor three seconds ago and already regretted it deeply.
Zhangsun Wuji scribbled away furiously in a small notebook, his brush flying so fast it looked ready to catch fire. Right next to him, Hou Junji stared blankly at Li Jing's empty chair, completely lost in his own thoughts.
Right beside the imperial couch, Li Shimin leaned in close to talk to someone, grinning like they had been best friends for decades. Beside them, Sun Simiao studied that same man with the sharp, focused stare of a doctor examining a very rare and very strange illness.
And that poor man was bright red from head to toe.
Liu Rengui recognized him instantly. By now, everyone in Chang'an knew this name.
Ma Zhou.
Top scorer of the imperial examinations. The Zhuangyuan.
For Ma Zhou himself, this moment was nothing but pure, unfiltered panic.
He had come to Chang'an with nothing but a halfway decent education, a stubborn determination to make something of himself, and an empty purse.
No powerful family backing him. No fancy noble surname. Not a single person in the entire capital owed him even the smallest favor.
So what was a desperate scholar with no options supposed to do?
Ma Zhou talked his way into becoming a house guest of General Chang He, Duke of Leize.
A man who could barely read his own name.
For months, Ma Zhou ate the Duke's food and slept under his roof, doing his best not to think about how his grand plan to make it big in Chang'an had somehow turned him into the permanent house guest of an illiterate general.
Then the imperial decree arrived.
One order from the Emperor, and his entire life flipped sideways. He was pulled straight out of the Duke's residence and dropped into the Imperial Academy.
He was told he could study whatever he wanted. The Academy's best scholars would personally tutor him. And when the Emperor ordered him to sit for the official examinations, Ma Zhou had no choice but to agree.
He could not afford to fail.
And thank the Heavens, he did not fail.
The new examination system hid every candidate's name. No one knew who had written which paper. No family connections to call upon. No fancy titles to wave around.
Nothing but the words on the page. It is fair and square.
And Ma Zhou, a farmer's son with no backing and no famous name, had blown everyone else out of the water and taken first place.
That should have been the best moment of his life. Right now, he should be celebrating with his friends and family.
Instead, Li Shimin, the Emperor of the Tang Dynasty, was sitting right next to him, chatting away like they had been old friends for years.
Ma Zhou had no idea what was happening.
His heart was going absolutely crazy, like a trapped bird throwing itself against his ribs.
'What did my little victory mean to the Emperor? What political struggle is hiding behind this first-place ranking? How many powerful families tried to keep some nobody like me from getting this far?'
Ma Zhou knew none of it.
He only knew that the Son of Heaven was looking at him like a man who had just won a huge pile of money on a wildly risky bet.
And honestly, that expression was terrifying.
And weirdly enough, that made him even more nervous.
"Ah, right." Li Shimin turned to Sun Simiao. "Sun Yaowang, once we wrap things up today, write out a full list of dietary rules for Binwang. Make them strict. No cutting corners, no exceptions at all."
He spun right back to Ma Zhou, looking as serious as a general barking out battle orders. "Binwang. Follow every single thing the Sun yaowang tells you. Every last rule. Do you understand me?"
"This humble subject obeys."
He bowed so fast his head spun. Inside he was totally confused. 'Why was the Emperor so worked up about giving him eating rules? And what did he mean by once we are done? What on earth was actually going on here today anyway?'
This was supposed to be a rest day! Ma Zhou had thought this was the Emperor getting to know new people.
Casual chit chat. Maybe some wine.
But every Chancellor, every Duke, every single person who actually ran the empire was crammed tight into this one room.
What could possibly need every single one of them here? And what was he, some brand new scholar with zero real world experience, supposed to contribute to any of it?
Ma Zhou looked to Li Shimin for answers. Li Shimin laughed and ignored him.
Before Ma Zhou could work up the nerve to ask again, His Majesty had already turned his attention to Liu Rengui instead, grilling him hard on exactly how much he had actually picked up in these three months.
Ma Zhou watched. Breathed. Tried his absolute best to look like he belonged there and was not about to pass out.
Outside, eunuchs called out the time in loud, piercing voices. Ma Zhou heard them shout "The hour of Si!" and the whole room shifted at once.
Every Chancellor lifted their head. Every Duke turned to face the blank wall at the far end of the hall.
All talking stopped. All writing stopped. All whispering stopped dead.
Everyone stared at that wall.
Ma Zhou stared too. There was nothing there. Just wood and plaster. A totally plain, boring wall.
But the feeling of anticipation in the room was so thick you could practically bite it.
With the Emperor busy, Ma Zhou took the chance to look around at all the weird stuff hung up on Ganlu Hall's walls.
Right in the middle hung a poem. Beautifully written. Called The Lament of the Lady of Qin. The calligraphy was breathtaking. You could tell right away whoever wrote it had insane talent.
But the words made Ma Zhou's chest feel tight and weird.
Who was Wei Zhuang anyway? Ma Zhou had studied like crazy ever since he got to Chang'an. He had read every book he could get his hands on. He had never heard that name once.
He dragged his eyes further down the wall. There was an incredibly detailed map of the whole country. Diagrams for some kind of super advanced crossbow. Strange drawings clearly marked as Cannons. He understood maybe half of what he was looking at, which only made him stare harder.
"A quarter past the hour of Si!"
Ma Zhou blinked. 'Why announce the time down to every single quarter?'
Then the wall changed.
The air felt different first. Not warmer. Not colder. Just off. Like that split second right before a thunderstorm hits, when the whole sky seems to hold its breath.
Light started spreading across the surface. It did not flicker like a candle flame. It did not glow like a paper lantern. It moved like water finding its shape, no sound, no heat, no source Ma Zhou could see anywhere.
Between one heartbeat and the next, a soft, steady glowing rectangle hung there in plain sight.
No noise. No smell. No explanation at all.
Ma Zhou's jaw hit the floor. His mind was screaming at him. Every survival instinct he had told him to run, or kneel, or pray, or do literally anything.
Then he glanced around the room again.
Every Chancellor, every Duke, every powerful man in that place was looking right at him. Smiling.
Not mean smiles. Not mocking smiles. The exact look older brothers give the youngest kid when they meet the family dog for the very first time.
Ma Zhou snapped his mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked together.
Li Shimin was already standing right next to the glowing screen, brush in hand, looking totally relaxed. Like this happened every morning over breakfast. Like glowing rectangles popping out of walls were normal palace decor.
Ma Zhou swallowed every curse word he knew. All of them. He dug up the fanciest, most proper scholarly words he could find on zero notice and said as calmly as he could:
"Is this a divine omen sent by the Heavens to bless our Great Tang?"
Fang Xuanling looked away.
Du Ruhui looked away.
Wei Zheng turned another page of his scroll.
Ma Zhou's heart sank. 'Yeah, okay, definitely not the right answer.'
The ministers turned their attention right back to the screen and paid him no more mind.
Not bad though, for a new top scorer. Quick enough to catch on.
---
Meanwhile. In a completely different timeline.
Also Chang'an. But definitely not the same Chang'an.
This one was rougher around the edges. More worn down. Way less grand. The old Han imperial palace was still standing, but Liu Bei had left it completely untouched.
Instead he had fixed up a huge mansion that once belonged to a general, and turned it into his main office. Good enough. Practical. No one was going to complain when there was still a war going on.
The light screen popped into the air, and Liu Bei and his closest people all let out a breath they had not realized they were holding.
Every single time it shows up, Liu Bei thinks this might finally be the last time. Every time, he braces himself for it to vanish and never come back.
But it never does. And every time it stays, he feels like he just cheated fate one more time.
Before he can start feeling relieved though, he spots movement.
A blade. Fast. Way too fast.
Damn it, Ma Mengqi, what are you doing?!
Liu Bei smacked his own forehead so hard it stung. I knew it. Bringing Ma Chao to these meetings was a catastrophic mistake. I should have left him outside the city, drilling his Qiang cavalry, far away from the light screen.
"MA MENGQI, STOP!"
That was all he had time to say. Just four words.
Zhang Fei ran faster.
He kicked Ma Chao square in the backside, hard enough to send him stumbling forward. The heavy ring-pommel sword flew from Ma Chao's grip and clattered loudly across the wooden floor.
"You idiot!" Zhang Fei roared. "That is not an enemy!"
"It appeared without warning!" Ma Chao snapped, twisting around. "How do you know it is not some sorcerer's trap? It must be sorcery!"
Zhang Fei smacked Ma Chao on the back of the head and shouted, "Sorcery your sister! Your whole family is sorcery! This is proof my Big Brother has received a blessing from Heaven!"
"It is true, I am worried this is the enemy!"
Zhang Fei kicked Ma Chao once again.
"Hey, why did you kick me? What did I do wrong now?"
"You! Talking with you is exhausting!"
Before Ma Chao could answer, Zhang Fei grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close until their noses were almost touching. "Listen to me, you paranoid fool. That screen has saved our lives more times than I can count. If you ever swing a sword at it again, I will hang you upside down from the city gate and let the crows peck at your backside!"
Ma Chao glared back, not backing down an inch. "Then tell it to announce itself next time instead of appearing like a ghost!"
"It is a light screen! It does not talk first! It just appears!"
"Then how am I supposed to know it is friendly?!"
"Because everyone else in this room is sitting still, you blind horse!"
Liu Bei buried his face in his hands.
'This is my life now. Two grown men arguing about whether a floating rectangle is a threat.'
Jian Yong stood up slow and calm as anything. Picked up the sword. Set it safely aside. Put a firm hand on Ma Chao's shoulder and pushed him back down into his seat before the man could get his balance back.
To be fair, Jian Yong really understood. A glowing rectangle appearing out of thin air was exactly the kind of dirty trick Ma Chao would expect. He had spent his whole life surrounded by betrayal and bloodshed. His first instinct was always to cut the threat down before it could get him.
But also, to be fair, fortunately that blade went straight through the screen like it was made of smoke. The screen did not care. It did not fight back. It kept glowing away, unbothered, like someone trying to stab the wind itself.
Jian Yong let out a long, tired sigh. This guy was going to give all of them grey hair before the year was even out.
Kongming and Pang Tong stayed sitting perfectly still. Their expressions did not change at all. Not even a flicker of surprise. They had seen this kind of chaos a hundred times before. They were used to it.
Zhang Fei and Ma Chao were now staring daggers at each other. You could feel the tension crackling between them.
Liu Bei thought about giving him a proper stern lecture, but for a moment, he just settled for a long, suffering sigh instead.
'When this war is over, I am going to find the quietest farm in all of Jingzhou and sleep for a month.'
Only a few others were allowed in this super private meeting: Fa Zheng, and the legendary physician Zhang Zhongjing. No one else.
They were still at war after all. Guanzhong had only caught its breath, it was not at peace. Jingzhou was busy keeping Jiangdong in check and holding Cao Cao at arm's length at the same time.
Liu Bei glanced over at Ma Chao one more time to make sure he was not about to try anything else stupid. Then his mind wandered off to something that was bugging him way more.
'Should I tell the carpenters to make more of those wooden chairs they have in the future?'
Because kneeling for hours on end was absolutely wrecking his knees. And if people later on figured out a better way to sit, they really should share.
[Lightscreen]
[Hey there everyone! It is your favorite not-so-educated host Wen Mang, back with more history talk!
This week I was busy shoveling down real Xi'an mutton soup and meat-stuffed flatbreads while going over my old videos. Last episode we wrapped up the early Tang period pretty nicely.
Now Wu Zetian taking over and starting her own Zhou dynasty is such a juicy story and I cannot wait to get into that.
But today let us take a quick breather.
Let us shift perspective completely. Let us look at the Han and Tang dynasties from an angle no one ever talks about.
So for now, forget all the emperors. Forget all the generals. Forget dukes, chancellors, and all those scheming ministers playing politics.
Today we are talking about that huge, invisible hand that has been pushing all of human history forward this entire time.
The one force everyone always overlooks.
Climate and the environment.]
Hearing that familiar, casual voice from the future again, Liu Bei felt something swell up in his chest.
He really wanted to brag. Heavens, he really did.
'I took Chang'an. I held Tong Pass against Cao Cao's finest men. I stopped that rotten betrayal before it even got started. I kept all those backstabbers from getting their way.
Every single win, every good turn I managed to pull off, all written down right here on this crumpled scrap of paper. I should hold it up to the screen just like Kongming does. Let them know exactly what I have achieved. Let the future see it all.'
He had the paper crumpled tight in his fist, arm half raised, ready to lift it high, then all those lines of text came scrolling fast across the light screen, and his hand froze right where it was.
[Server Chat Log]
[blue_teapot_42: Hahaha! Finally! The Dirty Tang and Stinky Han episode is here! I have been waiting forever for this!
sleepy_watermelon: Wait, did not that phrase come from Dream of the Red Chamber? People used it to make fun of how... chaotic the imperial families' personal lives were? Is this an insult or a joke?
quiet_thunder_7: Honestly starting from the Song dynasty things got way stricter for women. Society got so much more uptight. So if you think about it, calling them Dirty Tang and Stinky Han is actually a compliment! It means those eras were open. Free. Things were way less stuck up back then.
mossy_stone_path: But if we are talking literally about cleanliness? Dirty is pretty accurate. You know why they eventually stopped using Chang'an as the capital in the Tang? The groundwater under the old city got all contaminated with... well, you know.
Li Shimin: After several years of steady work, has Zhuge Wuhou managed to settle things with Sun Quan and Cao Cao internally, and reopen the trade routes to the Western Regions?]