"Yuanzhi's talent is something my lord knows better than anyone," Zhuge Liang said lightly. "What is there to worry about?"
He truly wasn't concerned. This was trust—simple and absolute—between old friends.
Liu Bei hesitated. "It's just that…"
For a moment, he couldn't quite put the feeling into words.
Zhuge Liang waved his feather fan, signaling that he understood.
If one were being honest, how else could Shi Ren and Mi Fang—men of no extraordinary merit—be entrusted with guarding Jiangling and Gong'an in the light screen's future?
It came down to one thing: nostalgia.
The lord was generous to old retainers, lenient almost to a fault—very much in the style of Emperor Guangwu.
To Zhuge Liang, this was hardly a fatal flaw. As long as ministers were willing to examine shortcomings and mend them in time, all could still be corrected.
And besides—
"My lord," Zhuge Liang continued, voice unhurried, "we have now established offices for brocade, sugar, iron, and irrigation. Chengdu is under constant repair and dredging. Everywhere demands manpower."
He laid it out patiently.
The successive policies, combined with the gradual draining of the treasury Liu Yan and Liu Zhang had built up over years, had led to a simple result:
Everyone in Chengdu was busy—frantically busy.
Mulberry planting, brocade weaving, cane cutting, sugar refining, iron smelting, road repair, water-powered workshops, the maintenance of Dujiangyan—
If someone wanted work, there was more than enough to go around.
"After the first month," Zhuge Liang added, "the people must prepare fields and seedlings. By then, there will be no idle hands at all."
Liu Bei nodded repeatedly. He understood at once.
"Then we establish schools," he said. "Gather the children. Open their minds. Teach them."
Almost instantly, a candidate formed in his thoughts.
"This should be entrusted to Zilong. Since the schools benefit Yi Province, the local great clans should fund them—to return benefit to their own communities."
He sighed softly.
"I do not ask that these schools produce great talents. I only hope they raise men who know restraint and principle—so tragedies like Shi Ren and Mi Fang never repeat."
Zhuge Liang laughed heartily and raised a thumb.
The two of them were thinking more and more alike.
Drizzle hung over Jing Province.
On a boat rocking gently with the current, Shi Ren wiped rain from his face and sneezed.
He rubbed his nose uneasily. Am I catching a chill?
If he truly fell ill, the few coins left in his purse would vanish in no time.
Pulling his armor tighter, longing desperately for the warmth of a camp brazier, Shi Ren peered toward the sandbar beside the river.
General Guan, he prayed silently, please finish talking soon so we can go back.
Lu Su stepped onto the sandbar with four personal guards.
The moment he saw Guan Yu, his presence faltered.
For safety, Lu Su had selected four elite men, each carrying a hundred-fold refined steel blade.
Guan Yu, by contrast, lounged alone.
No guards. No weapons at hand.
Only a pot of warmed wine, steaming gently atop a charcoal brazier.
Lu Su gestured for his guards to stop. One hesitated, clearly uneasy—but a sharp glance from Lu Su ended the matter.
They remained behind.
"Your Lordship is in fine spirits," Lu Su said, seating himself directly on a chair already soaked by rain.
"Zijing, drink," Guan Yu said calmly, filling a cup and pushing it forward. "Drive off the cold."
Lu Su didn't refuse.
The moment the wine hit his throat, he exhaled sharply. "Spicy… strong. Excellent wine."
Since he was already in the wrong, Lu Su decided to be direct.
"The matter at Gong'an," he said, "I can guarantee it will never happen again."
Guan Yu said nothing. He simply refilled the cup.
Lu Su drank again.
"Sun and Liu are allies," he continued. "Jiangdong has iron mines, but lacks refined methods. I've heard Jing Province has new metallurgical techniques. Could we exchange iron ore for them?"
Still no reply.
Another refill.
Lu Su stared at the cup, then watched Guan Yu pour himself a drink and down it in one motion.
Left with no choice, Lu Su drank again and clenched his teeth.
"In addition to iron ore," he said, "we can offer the blueprints for the Mengchong warships."
This, he judged, was his most tempting offer.
After all, Guan Yu was training a navy.
In truth, Lu Su had already discussed this with Bu Zhi. Jiangdong possessed countless shipwrights. Jing Province did not.
By the time Jing Province fully mastered the older ship designs, Jiangdong would already have moved on to a new generation.
Guan Yu paused, then lifted the wine jug again.
Lu Su turned pale and hurriedly stopped him.
"My lord—no more! Truly, no more!"
Guan Yu set the jug aside with visible regret and finally spoke.
"Then we trade ironworking methods for Jiangdong's iron ore and ship designs. We seal it with a clap."
Lu Su extended his hand.
They struck palms three times.
Deal made.
Guan Yu rose and turned to leave.
"Since you trust Jiangdong," Lu Su said solemnly, "Jiangdong will not betray that trust."
Already stepping onto the skiff, Guan Yu turned back and looked deeply at him.
"I do not trust Jiangdong," he said. "I trust Zijing."
He opened his mouth, as if to say more—but in the end, only four words emerged.
"Take care."
The skiff shot forward like an arrow, vanishing into the rain.
Aboard, Guan Yu instructed Zhao Lei quietly.
"Tell Lady Huang that I followed her advice and reached an agreement with Jiangdong. Ask her to prepare the rudimentary ironworking methods."
Lu Su stood alone on the sandbar for a long time.
Finally, he let out a slow breath, returned to the table, poured himself another cup, and drank while gazing at the river.
A soft sigh lingered in the rain.
"Gongjin…"
Zhenguan, third year. Seventh month.
Li Shimin paced back and forth within the Taiji Hall.
He remembered clearly—almost exactly a year ago—after viewing the light screen with Fang Xuanling, Du Ruhui, and Zhangsun Wuji, he had secretly ordered Zhang Gongjin to monitor the Turks.
The Turks had not disappointed.
The Bayegu, Huihe, Tongluo, and Tuli tribes all stirred. Tuli, in particular, was blunt—he intended to come to Great Tang and live out his days in comfort.
Opportunity had come.
Li Shimin did not hesitate.
Li Jing was appointed commander of the Daizhou route. Li Shiji commanded the Tonghan route. The armies advanced in concert.
Troops from Huazhou, Lingzhou, and Yanyun were mobilized in support.
A hundred thousand soldiers—all under Li Jing's authority.
And Li Jing proved, as always, worthy of trust.
In May, he struck and shattered the Turks, capturing Empress Xiao of Sui and her grandson Yang Zhengdao, escorting them to Chang'an.
Li Shimin treated them with courtesy. Yang Zhengdao was the posthumous son of Yang Jian's son Yang Jian—slain by Yuwen Huaji.
The grandmother and grandson had passed through the hands of Dou Jiande and the Turks before finally returning to Chang'an.
They wept openly when speaking with him.
Li Shimin granted them a residence in Xingdao Ward and bestowed upon Yang Zhengdao an idle honorary post.
While issuing the decree, Li Shimin recalled the later Empress Xiao—who would raise armies in Liao territory.
A formidable woman.
And yet—
Thinking of the Song dynasty brought a laugh of pure contempt to his lips.
In June, Li Jing advanced steadily. Coordinating with the Datong route, he crushed the Turks at Yinshan on the twenty-seventh day and captured Illig Qaghan.
That military report arrived almost the day after Li Shimin finished watching the light screen.
Now, in the Hall of Two Emblems, Li Shimin paced again, eyes drifting to the map on his desk.
This map had been altered according to the light screen.
Tang's territory was visible—but not yet striking.
Now that Illig is captured, he thought, shouldn't it grow?
He picked up the vermilion brush and colored a stretch of the northern frontier red.
He examined it with satisfaction.
At that moment, an attendant arrived.
"Your Majesty—Duke Li Jing, Duke Li Shiji, and Illig Qaghan have entered Chang'an."
"Open Shuntian Gate!" Li Shimin commanded.
He hurried to the gate tower and looked out.
Chang'an had become a sea of celebration.
The imperial avenue was packed.
At the front rode Li Jing, with Li Shiji half a horse behind. The two generals were calm, smiling only when struck by flowers tossed by the people.
Behind them, Illig Qaghan was bound and slumped low on his horse, shrinking in shame.
He didn't understand every word shouted by the Tang people—but he understood the laughter.
And it tormented him.
Behind him marched Tang cavalry—armor battered, dust-stained, eyes bright with triumph.
They spoke loudly of routed Turk horsemen, of breaking enemies head-on, of Illig kneeling in despair.
The people shouted words they themselves couldn't hear clearly anymore.
Coins, flowers, sachets, handkerchiefs flew.
This is the Tang I built?
No.
This is only the beginning.
The map unfolded again in his vision—this time, the east completely crimson.
"Your Majesty?"
Someone tugged his sleeve.
The procession had reached the end of the avenue.
Li Jing and Li Shiji dismounted. Illig knelt behind them, awaiting judgment.
Li Shimin had imagined this moment many times.
He wanted to mock.
He wanted to boast to the palace of his father.
Instead, he laughed softly and spoke aloud:
"Offer them to the ancestral temple."
The words echoed down through layers of attendants into the roaring crowd.
Illig collapsed like rotten mud.
The generals saluted.
The cavalry roared.
And finally, two clear cries reached Li Shimin's ears:
"Long live the Emperor!"
"Great Tang—victory!"
Officials gathered around him, congratulating him in waves.
Li Shimin laughed openly.
That night, still in armor, he brought Li Jing and Li Shiji to the Daan Palace.
What occurred inside was unknown.
But even late at night, music could be heard.
And the attendants—happy beyond words—greeted one another with a single phrase:
"Great Tang—long live!"