Before today, Li Shimin had never felt particularly fond of Wei Zheng.
If one spoke of talent, which civil or military figure in the Qin Prince's former household was not a once-in-a-generation prodigy?
Yet in just this single morning of watching the light-screen, Li Shimin had come to realize that Wei Zheng was… genuinely interesting.
At the very least, when it came to scolding people, there was no one in the Ganlu Hall who could match him.
Especially when Wei Zheng tore into Emperor Xuanzong—every sentence was deeply satisfying to hear.
Li Shimin even felt a twinge of regret.
Three months ago, he should have brought Wei Zheng here already!
As for that "Lesser Taizong," Emperor Yizong, Emperor Xizong—Li Shimin couldn't even be bothered to comment on them.
If he weren't certain the ministers would oppose it unanimously, Li Shimin would have erected a stele in the Imperial Ancestral Temple right now and expelled those three unworthy descendants from the Li clan genealogy on the spot.
They lost territory.
They broke the hearts of ministers.
They exhausted the people for nothing.
And yet they still dared call themselves rulers of a "Great Tang"?
Wei Zheng's question earlier—Li Shimin understood it perfectly.
It echoed the dialogue from Mencius, Lilou:
If a minister is treated as a ruler's limbs, then the ruler is the minister's heart and guts.
If a ruler treats ministers as dirt and weeds, then ministers will treat the ruler as an enemy.
Thus Li Shimin solemnly patted Wei Zheng on the back of the hand, offering reassurance.
"Beloved minister, you are my limbs."
Having said that, Li Shimin felt genuinely comforted.
Leaving aside later generations—at least in his Zhenguan era, ruler and ministers should be in harmony.
He regarded these ministers as his arms and bones. Together, they would found the early glory of the Great Tang—and later generations would sculpt statues of them, sing of them for a thousand years.
Suddenly, Li Shimin found himself longing to see that "Nighttime Chang'an" of the future.
Besides his Zhenguan generals, surely his Zhenguan ministers would be there too?
If he could see them—wouldn't it be as easy as calling people by name… and "inviting" them back?
[Lightscreen]
[ Aside from posthumous titles and temple names, there's another thing that completely rotted away as well: the Fengshan sacrifices.
Across all of Chinese history, only seven emperors ever performed Fengshan rites—but generally, we count six Fengshan ceremonies at Mount Tai.
The math is simple. There were only that many people worthy of it.
Qin Shi Huang is beyond dispute. Inscribing stone, sealing pine trees—his foresight reached across millennia.
Standardizing script, axle widths, and measurements; completing the first true unification—he didn't even need a posthumous or temple title.
He also established the precedent of imperial Fengshan rites.
Emperor Wu of Han ascending Mount Tai eight times is likewise defensible. Opening the Western Regions, separating Qiang and Hu, expanding borders, centralizing power, beating the Xiongnu into submission—these were achievements that shone for eternity.
This was an emperor who could say to the Chanyu:
"If you can fight, the Son of Heaven will personally await you at the frontier.
If not—come submit at once."
Some say that if Chinese civilization were a machine, Qin Shi Huang forged the hardware, while Emperor Wu installed the software. Only then did the machine truly begin running—to this very day.
People often claim that Liu Che's reputation would be better if he'd died five or ten years earlier—but even in old age, he recognized his mistakes, issued the Luntai Edict, and changed policy. That alone is exceptionally rare in history.
Compared to those who'd need to die twenty years early to fix their reputations… well, you know who I mean, Xuanzong.
Emperor Guangwu needs little discussion. Though his military feats didn't match Emperor Wu's, restoring a dynasty that had already been buried was impressive in its own right.
Tang Gaozong's Fengshan had elements of acting in his father's stead—but he did destroy Goguryeo, and he left enough resources for Xuanzong's Kaiyuan Prosperity.
Xuanzong himself—had he died twenty years earlier—his historical standing could have rivaled Taizong. His early Fengshan was truly justified.
The one who truly poisoned Fengshan was Song Zhenzong—the emperor of the "Treaty Beneath the City Walls."
During Zhao Heng's reign, Empress Dowager Xiao personally led Liao troops south. Chancellor Wang Qinruo was so frightened he nearly wet himself and proposed a "visionary plan": move the capital to Nanjing.
Chen Yaosou disagreed: "We should follow Tang precedent and flee to Chengdu instead."
Wang Qinruo was from Nanjing.
Chen Yaosou was from Chengdu.
Chancellor Kou Zhun erupted: "Anyone who dares suggest moving the capital—behead them!"
He practically forced Zhao Heng into a personal campaign, restoring Song morale and allowing a standoff with Liao forces.
In the end, Song and Liao signed the Treaty of Chanyuan—declaring themselves brother states.
Song paid Liao 100,000 taels of silver and 200,000 bolts of silk every year, unconditionally. Both sides stood down.
Zhao Heng was delighted with himself:
"Back then, when I personally led the army—steel spears, iron horses, might swallowing ten thousand li like a tiger! I saved the state in peril and preserved the Song realm!"
Then Wang Qinruo jumped out again:
"The treaty beneath the city walls is a deep humiliation! Kou Zhun is a treacherous villain—he should be executed!"
Zhao Heng thought it over.
"You're right."
So he sidelined Kou Zhun and asked Wang Qinruo:
"How do we wash away this shame?"
Wang Qinruo smiled faintly and proposed two plans:
Personally campaign and reclaim lost territory.
Perform Fengshan at Mount Tai to inspire the people.
Zhao Heng hesitated—and chose the latter.
And so, after preparations:
Heavenly texts descended praising imperial virtue.
Divine beings entered dreams, inviting him to Mount Tai.
Ministers celebrated with hats flying.]
The people watched coldly.
Eight million strings of cash were spent to "display Song majesty."
Annual tribute from the treaty beneath the walls defiled the golden altar of Fengshan.
History of Song verdict:
"Ruler and ministers alike—mad with illness."
Blocking later emperors from exhausting the people with Fengshan rites—this may have been Zhenzong's only real contribution.
"Li Zhiactually annihilated Goguryeo?"
Recalling how later generations of that unsavory country had turned his image into a one-eyed caricature, Li Shimin felt a flicker of satisfaction.
His eyebrows lifted—his mood had eased, if only slightly.
Zhangsun Wuji hurriedly said, "His Highness pacified Goguryeo thanks to the collective efforts of all."
"But later there are still those Koreans," Li Shimin shot back. "Clearly the people survived. How can that be called annihilation?"
Zhangsun Wuji had no answer.
He even felt a bit wronged—why were those people so troublesome? If he had the chance, he'd gladly follow His Majesty on campaign and personally contribute.
Setting that aside, Li Shimin felt his previous evaluation of the Song dynasty had been far too generous.
"Calling a treaty beneath the walls a glorious achievement.
Performing Fengshan while Yanyun remains in enemy hands.
Paying annual tribute without shame, exhausting the people to deceive oneself—what 'majesty' is that?"
"The History of Song isn't wrong," Li Shimin said coldly.
"A filthy ruler, treacherous ministers—and yet the dynasty lasted centuries?"
He shook his head, unable to judge further.
Du Ruhui suddenly recalled the light-screen's earlier jest.
"Like… grinding a mill while naked?"
Li Shimin froze—then burst into laughter.
Hou Junji and Yuchi Jingde didn't understand. After Zhangsun Wuji explained, even stone-faced Yuchi Jingde managed a thin smile.
After laughter came indignation.
"The Liao were led by an empress dowager—clearly unstable internally."
"And they struck from afar, while Song defended fortified cities. Over time, Liao would have lost. Why sign a brotherly treaty?"
Fang Xuanling hesitated.
"That chancellor's words suggest a hardline minister. If he opposed it, perhaps the treaty was inevitable only due to overwhelming disparity?"
"What kind of 'brotherhood' requires annual tribute?!" Li Shimin scoffed.
"Better to scrape the people to stain Mount Tai than spend a fraction strengthening the army?"
"I am ashamed to be ranked with them!"
Wei Zheng protested sharply,
"Your Majesty, if Song has such sycophants, we are even less willing to be ranked with them!"
The ministers nodded in unison.
Yuchi Jingde said bluntly, "If such a treaty were signed, I would rather die on the battlefield."
Hou Junji echoed him.
Li Shimin felt deeply gratified.
Yes—this was the Great Tang.
How could Song border Tang and learn nothing of its martial spirit?
Even late Tang had heroes like Zhang Yichao of the Guiyi Army!
As attention returned to their own era, Fang Xuanling suddenly realized:
"The light-screen mentioned the 'Tai-Xuan Prosperity.'
Now I understand—it refers to the hundred years from Your Majesty to Xuanzong."
Li Shimin nodded, then frowned.
"What, then, did Xuanzong do to earn such regret—that people wished he'd died twenty years earlier?"
Who could know? Du Ruhui sighed.
"Perhaps he spent those twenty years promoting An Lushan?"
Even Du Ruhui didn't believe that.
In the Three Kingdoms era, Liu Bei heard a crack—the sound of his dreams shattering.
He had once thought, with the light-screen, maybe history could be rewritten—perhaps even earn himself a better posthumous title.
Then he learned the Han had both Emperor Wen and Emperor Wu.
Maybe… a "Zong" temple name wouldn't be too bold?
But later, emperors were "Zong" whether they deserved it or not.
And Cao Wei even had Three Ancestors.
So Liu Bei thought of Liu Feng… and of Adou, Liu Shan.
Fengshan—wasn't that bold?
And then Song Zhenzong happened.
Liu Bei felt despair.
"With more people in later ages, how did martial virtue decay so completely?
Ruler and ministers shamelessly clinging to survival—without the self-awareness of a Son of Heaven?"
Zhang Fei was more relaxed.
"The screen also said later ages want to surpass Han and Tang. That proves no matter how shameless rulers get, they can't fool the people."
Everyone felt enlightened.
Why did Song ministers speak of fleeing capitals so casually?
How could a chancellor accept such a treaty?
"This Zhao Heng not only defiled Mount Tai—he defiled the title 'Zhenzong' itself!" Fa Zheng sneered.
Zhao Yun asked quietly,
"Was there truly not a single iron-blooded general in that court?"
Pang Tong grinned.
"Sure there were—just not allowed to speak." He glanced at Kongming.
Zhuge Liang nodded slowly.
Lessons of the former dynasty warn the later.
Tang's strength… An Lushan as an adopted son wielding heavy armies—perhaps that explains everything.
He sighed.
[Lightscreen]
After Zhenzong, the emperor most qualified for Fengshan would have been Zhu Yuanzhang.
But after seeing Zhenzong's precedent—and knowing Fengshan meant lavish rewards—Zhu Chongba, ever thrifty, wasn't letting officials squeeze money from him.
A beggar with a broken bowl took the realm—wasn't that achievement harder than a Mount Tai vacation?
So memorials proposing Fengshan were left on "read."
Yongle Emperor Zhu Di was also advised to perform Fengshan. He replied:
"Floods, droughts, and plagues persist. What prosperity is this?
And my idol Li Shimin never performed Fengshan—why should I?"
Li Shimin actually considered it. Ministers proposed it six times.
Each time—he stopped it.
Wei Zheng summarized it best:
"An emperor is measured by virtue, not Fengshan."]