Li Shimin's eyelids twitched uncontrollably.
Both hands clenched around the armrests of his chair, tightening inch by inch, until the veins on the back of his hands stood out like cords about to snap.
Hou Junji and Zhangsun Wuji lifted their eyes at the same time and exchanged a quick look.
This is bad.
He's really angry.
They both hesitated, half-rising from their seats, unsure whether to step forward and soothe the emperor—or retreat before they were caught in the blast radius.
Before either could decide, Wei Zheng strode straight out from the ranks.
He raised his head, spine rigid, voice clear and sharp enough to cut stone.
"Your Majesty," he said, "there is a saying: all things may begin well, but few end well.
Emperor Xuanzong lost the Way—his governance collapsed, discipline rotted, and chaos followed."
His words did not slow.
"His occasional successes were nothing more than the lingering fortune left behind by Your Majesty.
He violated law and order, offended the fundamental bonds—how could the Tang house not be placed in peril?"
The hall grew colder with every sentence.
"Endless trifles, extravagant talk—such confusion marks the first decline of a dynasty.
Indulgence, arrogance, lust, and obsession cloud the heart.
I fear that from this very point, the foundations laid by Your Majesty began to crumble!"
Zhangsun Wuji and Hou Junji both froze.
They stopped mid-step, eyes wide.
Wei Zheng, meanwhile, showed no sign of fear. His voice rang out, fierce and unrestrained. If Emperor Xuanzong himself had been standing there, Wei Zheng would have gladly pointed at his nose and scolded him to his face.
To think—the flourishing legacy built by their predecessors, ruined like this?
Even if he were demoted for these words, so be it.
Yet what Wei Zheng awaited was not punishment.
It was praise.
"Beloved minister," Li Shimin said, voice steady, "your words come from the heart. They are reasoned and well-founded."
Then—unexpectedly—the emperor himself joined in.
"The prosperity of the Great Tang was forged by me and my ministers through sleepless nights and shared hardship.
Xuanzong merely inherited what was left to him—and yet he dares to squander it so recklessly!"
His tone hardened.
"No wonder, when the An–Shi chaos came, he fled straight to Chengdu!"
He let out a short, humorless laugh.
"So many courier stations—yet they carried neither imperial commands nor military intelligence.
They were famous for delivering lychees through the ages… and infamous for fleeing to Chengdu for ten thousand years!"
Just like that, the tension in the hall eased.
No thunderous rage.
No recurrence of splitting headaches.
Zhangsun Wuji and the others finally breathed out.
Fang Xuanling, who moments earlier had looked half-asleep, now seemed to wake as if from a dream.
"Did later Tang… move the capital?" he asked slowly.
Du Ruhui shook his head.
"The light screen said the lychees were delivered to Chang'an. If that is correct… then perhaps a secondary capital was established."
He gestured lightly.
"The Guanzhong region is wealthy and commands Yong and Liang, linking to Hexi. But if one speaks of north–south connectivity, Luoyang surpasses Chang'an."
"With such vast territory," Du Ruhui continued calmly, "it would be natural to establish a companion capital to share the burden of defense."
Zhangsun Wuji frowned in thought.
"If so… then after the An–Shi chaos, this emperor did not retreat to Luoyang, but went directly to Shu.
Does that mean the rebellion began in the east?"
The more they considered it, the more it made sense.
Li Shimin stared at the map, eyes narrowing.
Zhangsun Wuji's reasoning was sound. On the battlefield, routed troops instinctively fled away from the enemy's main force.
If one drew a line from Chang'an to Chengdu and extended it further…
Li Shimin's gaze sharpened.
The rebellion rose in the north?
"Truly worthy of being called a flourishing Tang," Liu Bei said softly, lifting his eyes from Cao Pi's words, his heart filled with envy.
One courier station every twenty li.
Linked together, that was thirty-six thousand li of roads.
Such strength—there was no hiding it.
"But doesn't this Xuanzong look… oddly familiar?" Liu Bei frowned.
Pang Tong replied curtly, "Reign marked by the An–Shi Rebellion. Lost Hexi. Abandoned the capital and fled to Shu."
Liu Bei immediately dispelled his earlier thought.
Admiring the Tang was fine.
Admiring this emperor was not.
How could such a magnificent age collapse from a single upheaval?
Liu Bei still remembered the Guiyi Army of late Tang—its atmosphere was worlds apart from this Tang that could destroy nations at a stroke.
Others watched with curiosity. Zhuge Liang, however, understood governance and logistics too well to be distracted.
Maintaining over twenty thousand courier stations—what did that imply?
How large must the Tang's standing forces have been?
At least three hundred thousand, solid and real.
Zhuge Liang did a quick mental comparison.
Tie together Sun, Cao, and Liu—and they still wouldn't stand a chance.
Production… still production above all.
He sighed inwardly.
Zhang Fei didn't know why the military adviser suddenly looked so gloomy, but that didn't stop him from whispering to Zhao Yun.
"Zilong, are the pears from your hometown really that good?"
Zhao Yun's gaze drifted far away. After a moment, he nodded.
"Zhengding pears," he said quietly. "Sweet and crisp. I haven't tasted them in twenty years."
Zhang Fei patted his shoulder.
Hadn't he and Big Brother also left their hometown, never to return?
[Light- screen]
[Aside from his literary talent and fondness for sweets, Cao Pi was also notable for something else—what was likely a hereditary case of diabetes.
In ancient times, diabetes was called xiaoke "wasting-thirst," named after its symptoms: constant thirst and agitation.
Coincidentally, when Cao Pi argued that grapes and pears were delicious, he highlighted a shared virtue: they relieved irritation and quenched thirst.
In daily life, he indulged excessively in sweets. In a letter to Wu Zhi, he described spending entire days riding in the northern fields without eating, sustaining himself on sweet melons, plums, and cold water:
"Floating sweet melons in clear springs, sinking red plums in cold water."
When mocking Shu cuisine in letters to his ministers, he complained that their food was bland and only tolerable when dipped in honey.
His own poetry records meals of rich wine and fatty beef.
By modern standards, it's the kind of high-fat, high-sugar lifestyle that makes doctors shout in horror.
As for the genetic source—many suspect his mother, Lady Bian.
Her nephew Bian Lan is clearly recorded as dying of wasting-thirst. Her other sons met similar ends:
Cao Zhi drank heavily and became mentally unstable in old age.
Cao Zhang has no recorded illness, but died suddenly in anger.
Cao Xiong died young; his son Cao Bing also died young, leaving no heirs.
In ancient times, wasting-thirst was effectively incurable—especially for those who indulged deliberately, like Cao Pi, Cao Rui, and Cao Zhi. Their early deaths were almost inevitable.
Why, then, did Lady Bian survive?
Because Cao Cao himself suppressed her—no power, no wealth. She lived frugally.
Records describe Cao Rui visiting her to find her eating millet rice and vegetables, with no fish or meat. The contrast with her sons could not be sharper.
The Cao family also suffered from hereditary "wind illness"—what we now call hypertension. Cao Cao managed it well. His Four Seasons Dietary Regimen suggests he favored fish—low-calorie and healthy—which may explain why he lived past sixty.
Li Shimin, however, managed this far worse. Based on Tang dietary customs, he likely ate lamb frequently—and went to great lengths to obtain sugar-making techniques. Both worsen hypertension. Thus, he lived only to fifty-two—entirely unsurprising.
Additionally, the eminent Zhenguan minister Ma Zhou also died of wasting-thirst.
As for the so-called "pillar added to the flourishing Tang"—Emperor Xuanzong's adopted son, An Lushan—he too suffered from severe diabetes.]
Zhang Fei had been chewing on a few dried persimmons he'd tucked into his sleeve. By the end, he flung them away in alarm.
"The people of later ages…" he muttered. "Are they all divine physicians?"
Even Liu Bei was stunned.
Zhuge Liang shook his head helplessly. "More likely… a rather cruel sense of humor."
He hesitated, unable to finish.
Pang Tong burst out laughing. He remembered how the light screen had evaluated Zhuge Liang's lack of heirs—merciless, to say the least.
Then Pang Tong added, equally merciless, "If you ask me, it's all because of Cao the traitor—slaughtering cities and usurping Han. Heaven sent the punishment."
A darker thought crossed his mind.
"Lord," Pang Tong grinned, "perhaps you should write him a letter. Mock him. His bloodline is already doomed—regret comes too late now."
Zhang Fei stared. "Strategist, you really are heartless."
Zhuge Liang continued copying the contents carefully, intending to send them by fast boat to Jing Province for Physician Zhang's review.
As he wrote, he said calmly, "If Cao Pi and Cao Rui had shown even a fraction of Cao Cao's restraint, this calamity might have been avoided."
He paused, sighing.
"To think… Cao Wei fell, in truth, to wasting-thirst."
Compared to Yi Province's muted reaction, the Sweet Dew Hall was almost jubilant.
"So our wind illness can be treated after all!"
Several ministers spoke at once.
Li Shimin, on the other hand, looked reluctant.
"Fish lacks texture," he complained. "How can it compare to roasted lamb?"
The responses varied.
"Your Majesty must endure restraint for the sake of the realm," Wei Zheng said solemnly.
"I will have men search the Eastern Sea tomorrow," Hou Junji vowed. "They say sea fish is even tastier than lamb!"
Du Ruhui, expression calm, simply listed names:
"An–Shi Rebellion. Guiyi Army. Little Taizong. Yizong. Xuanzong. A single rider, red dust, the concubine smiles…"
"Stop, stop!" Li Shimin pressed his temples, pain flaring again.
Rubbing his forehead, he let out a pained sigh.
"Fine. As you wish."
Hou Junji glanced at the final lines of the screen, curious.
"What does 'adding earth to flourishing Tang' mean?"
Fang Xuanling answered at once.
"It means adding another shovel of dirt to Tang's coffin."
"And it seems the 'An' of the An–Shi Rebellion refers to its culprit—An Lushan."
The rest of the words remained unfinished.