Li Shimin—hailed as the greatest military commander of antiquity—was positively beaming, clearly waiting for his ministers to shower him with praise.
Instead, Hou Junji was the first to speak:
"So the one praised as the greatest commander of ancient times is… called Er Feng? That name is rather strange."
Li Shimin's smile froze instantly.
Zhangsun Wuji shot Hou Junji a helpless look, then raised his voice and declared:
"Congratulations to all! The title of 'peerless commander' has been sung through the ages!"
Hou Junji turned his head—only to see a gallery of wonderfully complicated expressions.
Li Shimin sighed inwardly.
This light-screen had truly become shameless—it had even dropped his surname.
The ministers of the Zhenguan era swiftly skipped over the so-called Two Palaces Incident. Four hundred years past was ancient history—how could it compare to events a thousand years in the future?
"These descendants are quite thoughtful," Du Ruhui said with a smile, stroking his beard.
Fang Xuanling nodded in agreement. "Though their tone is playful, to still be remembered after a thousand years—if Sun Quan knew, he would surely laugh in the afterlife."
The others nodded as well. Setting everything else aside, how many people's tombs still survived intact after a millennium?
Li Shimin glanced several times at the admission letter on the screen and sighed.
"I truly wish to glimpse the canonical texts of later-age science."
Then he added, somewhat smugly, "It seems they still employ the imperial examination system."
Du Ruhui mercilessly pointed out:
"Your Majesty, the light-screen calls this university merely one of the top institutions. That implies several others of equal rank—and even more beneath them."
"The reverence for learning in later ages far surpasses that of our Tang."
Li Shimin fell silent. An indescribable thought crept into his heart:
So many institutions—fine.
But the knowledge they command so utterly surpasses this age.
Such godlike understanding… where did it all come from?
[Light-screen]
[Compared to Sun Quan—who still receives 'offerings' after death—his chief general Lü Meng fared far worse.
In the 1990s, Lü Meng's hometown of Funan erected a statue in his honor. Less than two years later, it was smashed and removed.
Reportedly, the act of "crossing the river in white clothes" ruined the reputation of merchants. In the south today, people worship martial gods of wealth—and Lü Meng is unpopular. Lord Guan successfully counterattacked even in folk belief.
Historical criticism of Sun Quan also arrived swiftly.
When Chen Shou compiled Records of the Three Kingdoms, he was famously economical with words.
Cao Cao is introduced as: "Surname Cao, given name Cao."
Liu Bei: "The Former Lord, surname Liu, given name Bei."
But Sun Quan? No courtesy at all:
"Sun Quan, styled Zhongmou."
Even their deaths are treated differently.
Cao Cao's death is recorded as beng (imperial demise).
Liu Bei's as cu—the same term used in the opening line of the Memorial on the Northern Expedition: "The Former Emperor collapsed mid-journey."
Sun Quan, however, is demoted to the feudal-tier hong—"Sun Quan died."
Chen Shou's evaluation cuts even deeper:
"Bent low and endured humiliation, possessing the cunning of Goujian."
That's salt in the wound.
Sun Quan was King of Wu. Goujian's great achievement was… destroying Wu.
Sun Quan forced Lu Xun to death.
Goujian forced Wen Zhong to death.
Thus both earned the reputation: once the rabbit is caught, the hound is cooked.
Chen Shou's final verdict on Sun Quan was carefully sharpened:
"Suspicious by nature, swift to kill, heirs deposed and destroyed—leading ultimately to the fall of the state."
Hardly flattering words.
Yet as said before, Sun Quan and his Grand Commanders always "achieved one another."
Early on, Lu Xun praised Sun Ce as "founding a great enterprise with not even a brigade of troops," while describing Sun Quan as one who "received Heaven's mandate."
Later, when Sun Quan wanted to attack Gongsun Yuan, Lu Xun went full irony mode:
"Your Majesty, how mighty you are! You broke Cao Cao at Red Cliffs, defeated Liu Bei at Yiling, captured Guan Yu in Jing Province. Three heroes of the age—all beneath you. Why bother with Liaodong? Is he worthy?"
In short: The four of us are simply amazing.
Centuries later, during the Southern Song, Xin Qiji mastered this art as well. He wrote:
"Who can rival the heroes under Heaven? Cao and Liu.
Beget sons like Sun Zhongmou."
On the surface, he praises Sun Quan.
In truth, he scolds the Southern Song for its Jiangdong-style cowardice.
The allusion uses only one line—but everyone knows the next:
"Liu Biao's sons were pigs and dogs."
Who those pigs and dogs are needs no explanation.
Xin Qiji likely didn't admire Sun Quan much. He simply found him useful as an insult.
The Song dynasty did have one genuine admirer of Sun Quan—Su Zhe of the Three Sus—who lavishly praised him, saying:
"Sun is inferior to Cao, yet Liu is inferior to Sun."
But Su Zhe was also the man who wrote hundreds of words arguing that ceding the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun benefited the Song—and shamelessly claimed:
"I bear no shame in ceding land, yet alone enjoy its profits."
His praise was probably something Sun Quan himself wouldn't have wanted.]
"What do you think, Zizhong?" Liu Bei asked directly.
Mi Zhu clasped his hands, knowing the question concerned Lü Meng. He could only smile bitterly.
"Lü Meng used the guise of merchants to deploy a surprise attack—winning Jiangdong, but destroying the reputation of merchants."
"Nothing else need be said. Merchants value contracts."
That alone said everything.
Betrayal became one of Lü Meng's defining labels—so it was only natural that merchants despised him.
The group murmured in discussion, some even itching to ask Lü Meng directly what he thought of trading a moment's gain for a lifetime of infamy.
"We should have Second Brother capture Lü Meng alive," Zhang Fei muttered.
Everyone turned to stare.
Was the Third General planning to kill him spiritually?
Liu Bei's expression remained pleasant. Chen Shou's sharp pen had benefited him, after all.
Kongming, however, couldn't quite suppress his amusement.
"Comparing Sun Quan to Goujian…"
He shook his head, wanting to say that's vicious, but swallowed the words. The delight on his face was unmistakable.
Like a ghost, Pang Tong appeared beside him and whispered:
"So—you've figured out how to deal with this ally?"
"Naturally," Kongming nodded. "Given my lord's ties with Sun Quan, we must correct his heart and guide him back to the Han."
Pang Tong nodded in satisfaction and didn't ask further.
It was enough that Kongming had escaped the mindset of endless compromise.
Besides… Pang Tong kept one thought to himself:
If all else fails, retreat into Shu and refuse to emerge. Outlast them—what's difficult about that?
Just wait until Sima Yi takes power. Everything will sort itself out!
Zhang Fei, meanwhile, took a while to untangle Xin Qiji's meaning. Once he did, he felt only dread.
Later-age scholars were terrifying. They cursed so viciously—and yet you couldn't even hear it.
Later ages didn't just farm better and make better paper—they insulted better too!
And all of it was wasted on wordplay. Their fighting ability, on the other hand, seemed infuriatingly poor.
"My hometown was ceded?!" Zhang Fei exploded.
He didn't even know exactly where the Sixteen Prefectures lay—but Yan and Zhao lands, Youzhou being called Yan Province, and Yun-prefixed regions like Yunzhong Commandery…
One glance at the map was enough.
Home was gone.
"The light-screen said earlier that the Song and those Mongols were locked at Xiangfan—I thought land was just lost!"
Zhang Fei roared. "Turns out it was handed over willingly!"
"And they even dressed it up with such filthy rhetoric—benefits?! This ancestor of mine wants to skewer him and the Mongols together with one spear!"
Zhao Yun said nothing, his expression grim. He suspected his own homeland fared no better.
"This Song dynasty," Zhang Fei concluded, "has bones made of tofu!"
"Big Brother—we'll have to take it back ourselves!"
The line about "enjoying the benefits of ceding land" also made Li Shimin's eyes bulge.
"The Song court—all this shameless?!"
He desperately wanted to read that so-called essay proving its benefits.
"With Yan and Yun gone, barbarian cavalry could ride straight into the Central Plains! How could the people be safe?"
He frowned, thought it through again and again—and still couldn't comprehend it.
Seeing everyone deep in thought, Hou Junji sidled over to Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui.
"What kind of dynasty was this Song?"
Wei Zheng quietly pricked up his ears.
"Flourishing literary culture, lax military preparedness," Fang Xuanling answered.
Du Ruhui was blunter:
"The Song emperors were no men. Loyal blood could not save the state."
Li Shimin lifted his head and added quietly:
"In the end, it was destroyed by foreigners. Soldiers and civilians drowned themselves in the sea—tragic, yet stirring."
Back when he first saw the light-screen, he had thought the Song fiercely martial and their enemies overwhelmingly strong.
Now it seemed they had largely doomed themselves.
Wei Zheng, once he grasped it all, showed open disdain.
"The light-screen calls them the Three Sus—clearly eminent Song ministers."
"If such men were considered eminent, then the state's nature was beyond saving."
Everyone nodded.
If ceding sixteen prefectures could be spun into 'shameless profit,' then could His Majesty's humiliation at the Wei River be advertised as a great victory?
Say that aloud in front of the Emperor—and every Zhenguan minister could guarantee you'd witness His Majesty's most terrifying expression.
Du Ruhui murmured thoughtfully:
"By that logic… if Sun Zhongmou were born in the Song, perhaps he would count as a capable ruler?"
The group shook their heads.
Hard to imagine.
"Ke Ming exaggerates," someone said.
[Light-screen]
[Cao the Boss praised young Sun Quan greatly—but what about his own son?
Here we summon Master of Irony, Chen Shou, once more.
'Naturally gifted in literature, words flowing effortlessly, broadly learned with prodigious memory, skilled in many arts.'
All praise—describing a talented literary youth, not an emperor.
And this, precisely, is Chen Shou's evaluation of Cao Pi.
Chen Shou even helpfully described what he believed an emperor should be:
'Magnanimous in scope, sincere in fairness, aspiring toward the Dao, broad in virtue.'
Same sixteen characters—but note the transition between the two lines:
'If only he had also…'
Like Fu Xuan's evaluation of Liu Ye, it looks like regret—but is really a scolding just shy of pointing at his nose.
In short: Cao Pi wrote fine poetry—but it was useless. Narrow-minded, unfair, lacking ambition, and poor in character.
Seriously speaking, Cao Pi holds the highest rank among ancient literati, is the emperor who best appreciated food, and the gourmet most capable of writing.
He may also be one of the very few emperors in history to die of diabetes.
Perhaps because his father once praised Sun Quan, Cao Pi felt a peculiar affection toward him. The two exchanged many gifts.
In the recorded 'Letter Replying to the King of Wu,' Cao Pi sent literary horses, a sable coat, five hu of rock sugar, and a thousand abalones.
Sun Quan politely returned Jiangdong oranges—which utterly disgusted Cao Pi. He complained that out of a hundred, maybe one was sweet.
Cao Pi ate many fruits—but those truly worth special mention, with historical significance, are three:
Sugarcane.
Lychee.
Grapes.]