Late January. The cold was biting, the sort that crept through layers of clothing and lodged itself in the bones.
Perhaps it was not only the season. Perhaps it was because everyone present could already smell war in the air—a faint, metallic tang carried by the wind, sharp enough to make the heart uneasy. As a result, Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, Zhao Yun, and Wei Yan—the unquestioned pillars of Shu's military strength—were all seated in the side hall. Each sat straight-backed and silent, faces composed, thoughts heavy and restless beneath their calm exteriors.
Jiang Wan sat nearby, methodically rubbing his wrists, his expression tinged with bitterness. He had a strong premonition that today would be extraordinarily busy—one of those days when documents multiplied faster than they could be signed.
Ma Liang, on the other hand, appeared well prepared. He reached into his sleeve and took out several bamboo-cone hard pens, placing them neatly on the desk before him. These had been a New Year's gift from his younger brother, Youchang—Ma Su. After testing them himself, Ma Liang had found that compared to a brush, these pens were vastly more suitable for rapid transcription. Beauty was one thing; survival under paperwork was another.
"Brother Gongyan, care to try one?" Ma Liang said with a small smile. In a sense, the two of them were true "brothers in hardship," having weathered endless administrative labor side by side. Familiarity had long since replaced formality.
Jiang Wan sighed and accepted one of the bamboo pens without ceremony. "The world pursues calligraphy that is elegant and flowing," he said, weighing the pen in his hand, "yet who would have thought that all the two of us seek is… speed."
Ma Liang chuckled softly. "Brother Gongyan possesses exceptional talent. The administration of the hydraulic workshops benefits the people and strengthens the state." Over time, his admiration for Jiang Wan had only deepened. This was a man destined to be remembered among the "Four Chancellors of Shu."
Jiang Wan smiled faintly and said nothing. He dipped the bamboo pen and wrote a few characters on the paper: White-Brows is the most excellent. After examining the strokes, he nodded. "Youchang also possesses real ability." At present, Ma Su was assisting Jiang Wan in managing the hydraulic workshops, effectively serving as his subordinate—and keeping him very, very busy.
"And who does not know the name of Jichang?" Jiang Wan tapped the paper and laughed. "If not for misfortune, you would surely leave behind a name remembered for a thousand ages."
The two men exchanged knowing smiles and tactfully changed the subject. There were some futures that were better left unspoken.
Nearby, Jian Yong remained as informal as ever. This time, he had even brought a cushion, stretching out comfortably on the mat. The sight made Mi Zhu glance over more than once, his eyes betraying a hint of envy. Comfort, after all, was a rare luxury in official halls.
"Is Zifang still being stubborn?" Jian Yong suddenly asked, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.
Mi Zhu's expression darkened immediately. "His words are full of regret," he said, "but I can tell it does not come from the heart."
Jian Yong tilted his head back and stared at a spider crawling leisurely across the ceiling beam. "Then why not let the Third General have a try?" He turned his head and laughed at Mi Zhu. "Yide may be impetuous, but he understands restraint. Zizhong, your talent for commerce is astonishing. Zifang never knew hardship from childhood—how could he? It might be proper to let Yide punish his body and discipline his flesh."
Mi Zhu recalled Zhang Fei's earlier comment about "giving Cao Pi a slap." His lips twitched.
Perhaps… when there is an opportunity, I really should give it a try.
—
The Tang Dynasty. Chang'an.
Early October brought crisp, refreshing air to the capital. When Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui arrived together, they found Zhangsun Wuji standing behind Li Shimin, gently massaging the emperor's neck. He spoke continuously, his tone earnest and concerned.
"Your Majesty suffers from dampness," Zhangsun Wuji said. "The autumn rains in August were unceasing. Why not construct additional pavilions and terraces to avoid the damp? It would not violate ritual regulations, and it aligns with the wishes of the people—especially those whom Your Majesty saved through disaster relief this year."
Li Shimin did not respond immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze toward Du Ruhui. "What time is it?"
"It is nearly the hour of Sishi—about nine in the morning," Du Ruhui replied.
Li Shimin patted Zhangsun Wuji's hand, signaling him to stop, then stretched. His joints cracked audibly as he laughed. "Previously, the light-screen descended around a quarter past the hour. Keming, Xuanling—prepare yourselves."
As he spoke, Li Shimin went in search of his favored writing brush. To hold a pen while evaluating the "Secrets of the Immortals"—even Emperor Gaozu of Han had never enjoyed such a privilege, had he?
—
Jingzhou, Gong'an.
After Liu Bei took his seat in the hall, he noticed something unusual. Kongming had his eyes closed, resting. His brow was faintly furrowed, and the veins on the hand holding his feather fan stood out ever so slightly.
Kongming… nervous? Liu Bei laughed inwardly.
In his memory, Zhuge Liang was always composed to the point of serenity. Even in desperate situations—such as the chaos at Changban—he had never revealed the slightest trace of anxiety. This was new.
But then… Liu Bei exchanged a glance with his two sworn brothers. All three of them understood this feeling well. When facing the final judgment history would pass on one's entire life, who could remain entirely calm?
Nearby, Pang Tong sat holding a book, lips pressed into a thin line. At a glance, he appeared to be reading, yet his vacant stare betrayed him completely. His thoughts had long since drifted far beyond the page.
At that moment, the familiar light-screen slowly unfolded in midair within the hall. The equally familiar voice rang out once more.
[Light-screen]
["Hi hi hi! Hello everyone! After a seven-day break, your uneducated UP host is back with an update! Before we dive into the main topic, let's check on our channel mascot: Xuande!"]
As the giant panda cub appeared on the screen, Liu Bei felt his smile stiffen slightly. Seven days? Not three months?
Both Kongming and Pang Tong noticed the discrepancy as well, but neither had the spare attention to comment on it now.
After the panda cub faded, the descendant's voice grew slower, more solemn.
["There is a certain civil minister who embodies wisdom itself in the history of Chinese civilization. He was an outstanding politician, military strategist, inventor, and man of letters."]
["In history, he understood music, painting, and calligraphy; he created inventions, promoted water conservancy, formulated laws, and grasped astronomy and metallurgy. He is ranked among the 'Ten Philosophers' of the Martial Temple and revered as one of the six greatest politicians in ancient history."]
["He made the Three Kingdoms shine for ten thousand generations. He is known as the Premier of a Thousand Ages. His spirit has become a symbol of our nation, a lighthouse for generations of descendants of the Yan and Huang Emperors."]
["In our modern documentary The General History of China, the Three Kingdoms period occupies only three episodes—and he alone fills one entire episode. That is today's protagonist: Zhuge Kongming!"]
[Light-screen: Bullet Chat]
[V0id_Stalker]: 〖Holy crap, it's finally here! Prime Minister, I've waited so long for you!〗
[Nitro_Trigger]: 〖UP host, you've said everything already! Outstanding politician, master strategist, genius tactician, wise diplomat—what's left for us?〗
[Null_Vector]: 〖"Dying before the mission was accomplished, forever making heroes weep into their sleeves." The real Prime Minister, who exhausted his life for an ideal, is far more moving than the half-demon of the novels.〗
[Apex_Shift]: 〖Nanyang and Xiangyang have fought for decades over which one is his true hometown—that alone proves his charm.〗
[Cipher_Blade]: 〖In college, a guy named Zhuge in my class failed a course. The whole department was stunned: 'Your surname is Zhuge and you failed?' The bar was set too high.〗
[Static_Wraith]: 〖Cao Pi and Sun Quan: Every foot of Shu brocade you buy becomes an arrow fired by Shu-Han.〗
[Lone_Wolf]: 〖In middle school we discussed what he couldn't do. Conclusion: he couldn't give birth…〗
[Digital_Nomad]: 〖If he lived today, he'd probably master cloning and solve even that. The era limited him.〗
[Ghost_Protocol]: 〖One thing he really wouldn't know: how to practice "wellness."〗
[Echo_Chamber]: 〖"Wouldn't know wellness" LOL… sob… he really worked himself to death.〗
[Li_Shimin ]: 〖A rare talent of the age, his heart fixed on the Central Plains. I only regret he could not serve under me.〗
—
The Reaction
The hall fell into complete silence.
Every gaze turned toward Zhuge Liang.
The Military Advisor—usually the calmest man alive—stood frozen, eyes fixed on the light-screen. Slowly, a single tear traced a line down his cheek. He did not realize he was crying until Zhang Fei spoke.
"Prime Minister… ah—Military Advisor," Zhang Fei corrected himself hastily, his voice unexpectedly gentle after accidentally using the future title. "Are you… crying?"
Kongming reached up and touched his eye, clearly startled by the moisture on his fingers.
Pang Tong released a long, heavy breath and looked at his friend. "Kongming, back in Nanyang, when you compared yourself to Guan Zhong and Yue Yi, I thought you arrogant." He paused. "I was wrong. It is they who should feel honored to be compared to you."