[Livestream Bullet Chat Feed]
Ghost_Glaive88: Just seeing the word "Chengdu" makes me hungry…
Steel_Dragon: J-20s, J-10s, FC-1 Xiaolong—those are Chengdu too!
City_Wanderer: Can I get to Erxian Bridge via Chenghua Avenue?
History_Buff: Chengdu to Chang'an is six hours by high-speed rail, but the Prime Minister spent his whole life walking that road.
Romance_Fan: Zhuge Liang's Chang'an, Sun Quan's Hefei, and Cao Cao's black silk stockings—the Three Kingdoms' three great regrets.
Meme_King: Wait—did something weird just slip in there?
Scholar_Path: I only wish to one day climb the roads of Shu and finish The Proclamation on Starting the Expedition.
Northern_Expedition: "Prime Minister, how goes the year?" — "Marshal the banners! We march north!"
Li Shimin: Is this heaven… or the world of men?!
The hall fell into a stunned silence.
Everyone stared at the light screen, unwilling to blink, afraid that if they did, some detail of this impossible vision would vanish forever.
The people on the screen wore strange clothing, yet they spoke the same language. They wrote characters born of the same roots. And before their eyes stood a Chengdu unlike anything imagination had ever dared to reach.
Broad avenues sliced cleanly through the city from north to south. Towering bridges arched across wide rivers. Skyscrapers rose like forests of stone, piercing the clouds. Markets pulsed with life, traffic flowed like rivers, and within just a few fleeting frames, countless marvels flashed past—each one branding itself into memory.
It wasn't only the buildings that unsettled them.
Even the words were becoming difficult to understand.
They recognized the character Jian—to annihilate. But what did it mean when followed by numbers?
They knew Xiaolong meant Fierce Dragon, but what dragon was this?
And what did any of this have to do with Chengdu?
For the first time, Zhuge Liang felt truly disoriented.
He could decipher the allusions to the Prime Minister and Chang'an, to Sun Quan and Hefei. Those made sense.
But that… Cao reference?
What in the world was that?
As for the "Northern Expedition," there was no confusion there. If one held Yizhou and Hanzhong, then marching north to restore the Han was not a choice—it was destiny.
The words on the screen rang with undeniable truth:
The Han and the usurpers cannot coexist.The Han and the usurpers cannot coexist.
The Imperial Cause cannot remain confined to a corner of the realm.
Nearby, Ma Liang and Jiang Wan hurriedly copied the scrolling text, whispering as they did.
"At least this 'Li Shimin' speaks more respectfully now," Ma Liang murmured.
"Indeed," Jiang Wan replied. "Before, he dared to proclaim himself Emperor. A man with no sense of places!"
Zhuge Liang glanced back at the very first line of the barrage.
For reasons he could not explain, the image of bright-red crawfish glistening in hot oil surfaced vividly in his mind.
…Were they truly that delicious?
[Voiceover]
"The Three Kingdoms era left behind countless memories in Chengdu.
Today, we'll follow a simple rule—moving from the outskirts inward.
Our first stop: Huangzhong Village."
Huang Zhong looked up sharply, completely caught off guard.
Him? Here?
He was just an old soldier. Aside from helping his Lord seize Hanzhong, he felt he had done nothing extraordinary.
Yet no matter how hard he tried, the grin tugging at his face refused to be suppressed.
[Voiceover]
"In the year 1825, villagers in Chengdu's western suburbs discovered Huang Zhong's tombstone. The village was renamed in his honor.
Liu Yuan, founder of the Huaixuan School, built a memorial shrine for him. Later, his son Liu Guijiu composed a couplet:
'The Northern Expedition gazes toward the Central Plains; tracing the foundations of the King of Hanzhong's cause, your merit is supreme.'The Northern Expedition gazes toward the Central Plains; tracing the foundations of the King of Hanzhong's cause, your merit is supreme.
By the western city lies the tomb-path; facing the temple of Emperor Zhaolie, this ancestral hall stands tall.'
A truly lofty evaluation of the old General."
Huang Zhong fought valiantly to pull down the corners of his trembling mouth.
Failed.
He gave up entirely.
Laughing loudly, he cupped his hands toward everyone in the hall and bowed in grand salute.
Liu Bei spoke with heartfelt emotion:
"The one who built your shrine was also a descendant of the Liu clan. For you to stand facing my temple… you are truly the strength of my limbs, General!"
For a brief moment, lord and subject shared an unspoken bond.
They both lifted their eyes eagerly, hoping to glimpse thick incense smoke curling skyward.
But the screen showed only lush green trees and rows of modest modern buildings.
No ancestral hall.
[Voiceover]
"Unfortunately, the Shrine of Huang Zhong was later demolished and no longer exists today.
However, the people have not forgotten him.
Chengdu's Metro Line 27—currently under planning—passes through the site. The station there is named Huangzhong Station.
A different form of immortality.
Additionally, another shrine still stands in Nanyang, the General's hometown, where locals continue to offer incense and maintain the grounds."
Such a twist of fate…
Huang Zhong's heart tangled with pride, regret, and quiet acceptance. At last, he sighed.
"As long as the people of the future remember this old soldier… that is enough."
Liu Bei clasped his hand in comfort.
Zhang Fei shoved his way forward. "Old General! When my temple gets built, I'll make sure you have a seat in there!"
Seeing Zhang Yide pounding his chest so confidently, Huang Zhong finally felt lighter.
Liu Bei, however, latched onto another detail entirely.
"This 'Metro'… does it relate to that 'High-Speed Rail'?"
[Voiceover]
"Three kilometers northeast of Huangzhong Village lies the Nine-Mile Embankment.
Though Chengdu has the Dujiangyan irrigation system blessing it for millennia, minor floods still occurred.
When the Prime Minister governed Shu, he oversaw the construction of this dam. Because it stretched nine li, it was named accordingly.
Gao Pian of the late Tang and Liu Xigu of the Song later renovated it. During the Song, a 'Shrine to Lord Liu' was built to honor Xigu.
Over time, however, the people preferred to call it the Zhuge Temple instead.
I imagine the Prime Minister would find this rather amusing."
Thank you. I already am, Zhuge Liang thought dryly, shaking his head.
Yet his respect for that Song Dynasty prefect was sincere. To control water and protect the people—such merit ranked among the highest.
Liu Bei beamed. "Another descendant of the Liu family! To think our posterity would leave behind such beautiful works."
Watching future citizens strolling and resting freely in the park, Liu Bei felt a warm swell of approval.
They know how to cherish the people.
If I restore the Han, I must remember this.
[Voiceover]
"Three kilometers south of Nine-Mile Embankment lies Mount Wudan."
The screen showed only a distant view.
[Voiceover]
"According to the Records of the Three Kingdoms, Liu Bei 'ascended the throne south of Mount Wudan in Chengdu' in the year 223.
This record allowed historians to pinpoint the location of the Shu-Han Imperial Palace.
Mount Wudan is no longer open to the public, so we can only glimpse it in passing."
No one cared much about Mount Wudan—except Liu Bei.
The others were distracted by something else entirely.
"A bridge… built on flat ground?" Zhang Fei muttered, baffled.
Zhuge Liang answered calmly, "The prosperity of the future must surpass all dynasties before it. Those mechanical carriages number in the millions. Such bridges exist to regulate their flow."
Silence fell again.
Only days ago, they had been elated at the thought of fortifying Jiangling.
Compared to this Chengdu…
Their ambitions suddenly felt very small.
Sensing the shift, Huang Yueying clapped softly.
"I may not understand their towers or bridges," she said gently, "but Master Xunzi once said:
'Accumulate earth to form a mountain, and wind and rain will gather there.'Accumulate earth to form a mountain, and wind and rain will gather there.
Accumulate water to form a sea, and dragons will be born.'
That the future commands such craftsmanship is because of the foundations laid by all of you.
Why belittle yourselves?
If we restore the Han and advance learning, perhaps one day we may glimpse even a fraction of this glory.
The waterwheels on the Hudu River already bless the people daily.
A year ago—could any of you have imagined this?"
Zhuge Liang smiled at his wife.
The others straightened, visibly steadied.
The screen moved on.
[Voiceover]
"Xiaoguanmiao Street once housed a small Guan Di Temple dedicated to Guan Ping.
Sadly, it has since been demolished, though the street name preserves its memory."
Guan Ping froze.
"…People built a temple… to worship me?"
"My dear nephew," Zhang Fei said softly, almost tenderly, "ten years from now, you and your father will fall at Maicheng. If the people remember your loyalty and righteousness—why wouldn't they worship you?"
Guan Ping:
"???"