Li Shimin wanted to say something.
For example, he wanted to ask—half in confusion—what exactly a "marriage-prohibited clan" was supposed to be.
He even found himself planning, deep down, to visit Guanyinbi that night and casually ask why palace consorts were being selected from common families.
As for the claim on the light-screen that the great clans didn't want to marry imperial princesses—Li Shimin almost snorted aloud.
Don't want to marry?
You damn country-draining, family-fattening parasites think you're worthy?
The might of Princess Pingyang was something Li Shimin remembered all too clearly.
When the uprising began in Jinyang, she rallied the heroes of Guanzhong.
At Sibamboo Pass, she raised the Army of the Lady.
By the Wei River, brother and sister joined forces, shattered Chang'an, pacified Guanzhong, and seized the realm.
Through dust and blood, through honor in life and mourning in death.
So when later generations referred to Weize Pass as Niangzi Pass, Li Shimin felt genuine pride for his elder sister.
But then—
Princess Yongjia… incest.
Princess Taiping—whose father he wasn't even sure of—rebellion?!
And then one princess after another, scandal after scandal.
For the first time, fear overwhelmed curiosity in Li Shimin's heart.
He didn't want to know anymore.
But then the light-screen struck him like a thousand-pound hammer crashing down onto his skull:
Empress Zhangsun — died of illness, Zhenguan Year Ten.
In an instant, Li Shimin felt the world spin. His ears rang as if thousands were wailing at once—crying, laughing. In his daze, he almost thought he could hear the satisfied voices of his brothers rejoicing.
He rose instinctively and staggered forward two steps—then realized the light-screen was only announcing the news.
Guanyinbi wasn't there.
That realization loosened his mind slightly, but an unprecedented weakness swept through his body.
The ministers watched in shock as their emperor—the blazing sun of Great Tang, not yet thirty—dimmed before their eyes.
That young, vigorous body stumbled backward until his hand caught the edge of a chair.
Zhangsun Wuji, eyes red, rushed forward to support him.
"Your Majesty…"
"Everyone…"
The voices were chaotic, yet they strangely calmed him, restoring a bit of strength.
"I want to see the Empress."
The words burst out before he could think—but he quickly realized the light-screen was still present. Clutching his head, he changed the order:
"Summon Empress Zhangsun to the Ganlu Hall. At once."
Even Wei Zheng didn't object this time. Everyone knew it was useless.
A dragon has reverse scales—touch them and you die.
And Empress Zhangsun was absolutely one of Li Shimin's reverse scales.
Supported by Zhangsun Wuji, Li Shimin lay weakly on the couch, eyes closed as Changsun massaged his temples.
In the awkward silence, Li Shimin finally spoke first:
"Zhenguan Year Twenty… princes turning against one another, the harem usurping power. Truly—a life of total failure."
Du Ruhui gave a bitter smile and tried to comfort him:
"Why must Your Majesty torment yourself? The flourishing age of Taixuan, the reverence of later generations—how could all that be false?"
The argument had merit. Li Shimin's headache eased slightly. He stared at the ceiling of Ganlu Hall and said:
"At least that Wu Cairen entered my harem. That much can't be wrong."
"This…" Fang Xuanling hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"Since she could enter the palace, her reputation, appearance, and talent must all have been outstanding."
"With methods even more ruthless than Empress Lü', even if Your Majesty ignored her, she would still find her way in."
Li Shimin wanted to refute this—but when he thought of Tang princesses, he fell silent.
Even if she didn't enter as a consort, all it would take was one reckless princess to create an opportunity.
Zhangsun Wuji, meanwhile, was radiating killing intent:
"Your Majesty, give the order. I will dig three feet into the earth and execute this witch, erasing future disaster!"
"Absolutely not!" Wei Zheng jumped out immediately.
"To kill a commoner on unfounded charges—is this the conduct of a benevolent ruler?!"
The ministers erupted into argument. Li Shimin grew tired of it and simply closed his eyes again.
Soon, silence returned.
A pair of soft, boneless, slightly cool hands rested on his forehead, skillfully kneading. The pain slowly faded.
"Guanyinbi…"
Li Shimin grabbed her hands and pressed them over his eyes. Thick tears slipped from the corners.
...
In the Chengdu prefectural office, everyone stared at the deeds of Tang princesses, dumbfounded.
Pang Tong swallowed hard.
"At this moment in the flourishing Tang…"
Zhuge Liang finished calmly:
"…it is exactly like our Han, at that very same moment."
Liu Bei couldn't help but sigh:
"So alike?"
Both strategists shook their heads in disbelief.
"So alike."
The hall fell into stunned silence.
Weren't you supposed to learn from past mistakes?
Wasn't history meant to be a warning?
Eunuchs in power.
Maternal relatives meddling in politics.
The harem ruling in regency.
Princesses launching rebellions.
Did you really have to copy everything?
Learning Great Han's strengths was one thing—how did Tang manage to duplicate all the disasters too?
Zhang Fei muttered under his breath:
"Our Han wasn't that bad compared to Tang."
"Empress Gao never proclaimed herself emperor. And Princess Eyi only participated—nothing like Taiping actually controlling the court and trying to seize the throne."
Liu Bei shot him a death glare.
"Third Brother, Dujiangyan still needs—"
"I'll shut up!" Zhang Fei immediately clamped his mouth shut.
Zhuge Liang, however, frowned with concern:
"The light-screen mentioned earlier—Li Shimin suffers from migraines, just like Cao Cao."
"With this sudden shock… I fear—"
Head-wind illness… probably not fatal?
Even Zhuge Liang wasn't sure.
Zhang Fei, meanwhile, felt a bit wicked:
"Maybe that Tang emperor is busy being all lovey-dovey with Empress Wu right now—"
Zhuge Liang shook his head.
"The light-screen previously noted that the Western Regions had not yet been pacified. That places this moment quite early."
Pang Tong's eyes lit up—then he slapped his thigh in regret:
"To think we can't see the Tang emperor's face right now! What a loss!"
...
Back in Ganlu Hall.
Empress Zhangsun sat upright on the couch, Li Shimin's head resting in her lap as she massaged him, calmly listening to Du Ruhui's explanation.
Du Ruhui was concise and precise. In just a few sentences, she grasped the situation.
She also resolved a lingering doubt—why everyone had occasionally been excited before, yet refused to explain when asked.
Had she trusted their character less, she might have thought Li Shimin had secretly taken Five-Stone Powder.
Now that she understood his worries, Empress Zhangsun smiled gently at the man in her lap.
"If the era inherits Your Majesty's flourishing reign, then that Wu Cairen must also be a remarkable woman."
"It just so happens I lack a clever attendant at my side."
She was suggesting that Wu Cairen be summoned to the palace early.
Li Shimin hesitated. Empress Zhangsun smiled sweetly:
"If she is summoned now, how to handle her lies entirely within Your Majesty's will."
"What does the eternal emperor of Great Tang, Li Shimin, have to fear?"
Li Shimin shot upright.
He had liked that title before—but hearing it spoken aloud by his empress made him feel inexplicably embarrassed.
"All right—whatever Guanyinbi decides!"
Just then, the light-screen began to scroll again. Li Shimin hurriedly pleaded:
"Let's watch the light-screen first."
[Light-Screen]
The term Five Surnames and Seven Lineages was used in early Tang. Riding on the prosperity of Zhenguan, and ignoring Li Shimin's warnings, meritorious officials such as Wei Zheng, Fang Xuanling, and Li Ji rushed to intermarry with Shandong aristocratic families.
The great clans rapidly recovered their strength. By Gaozong's reign, the Five Surnames and Seven Lineages had expanded into Seven Surnames and Ten Houses.
The low-born chancellor Li Yifu once sought marriage ties with the Shandong clans and was rejected. He reported this to Gaozong.
Gaozong responded by issuing an order prohibiting intermarriage among the Seven Surnames and Ten Houses—the origin of the so-called marriage-prohibited clans.
Ironically, this single decree only elevated their status. They took pride in being called "marriage-prohibited," and the ban proved ineffective—secret marriages continued regardless.
During Emperor Wenzong's reign, the emperor personally sought marriage with Chancellor Zheng Tan, hoping the crown prince could wed Zheng's granddaughter. Zheng refused and instead married her to Cui Gao, a mere ninth-rank official.
Wenzong's lament—
"Two hundred years of emperors, and still we cannot rival Cui and Lu?"
—became the golden plaque of the marriage-prohibited clans, further boosting Shandong prestige.
As for Li Shimin's compilation of the Register of Clans, behind it lay a helpless truth:
Although Tang's imperial examinations were more advanced than those of the Northern–Southern Dynasties and Sui, they were of limited practical importance to Tang.
In Zhenguan Year Twenty, Li Shimin sent twenty-two inspectors across the realm. In Bingzhou alone, nearly a thousand officials were dismissed or executed for corruption.
Yet that same year, the imperial examinations selected only four candidates. The next year—seven.
Combined, they filled barely one percent of Bingzhou's vacancies.
From 622 to 904, Tang held 273 examinations over 282 years, selecting a total of 8,455 officials—an average of just 23 per year.
Were Tang's official numbers small? Not at all.
In Xianqing Year Two, 1,400 people entered officialdom, yet only 22 came via examinations. Vacancies numbered nearly 500.
Paths to office included special examinations, patronage, recommendations, military merit, financial postings, and more.
Most required local officials' endorsement. The patronage system was never abolished—and under Tang, it was more dominant than ever.
Tang even had semi-official "money-capture" posts—essentially legalized office-buying.
With so many channels, Tang hardly relied on the "few scraps" of the examinations. Redundant officials became a serious problem as early as Gaozong's reign.
At its worst, the Ministry of Personnel had over seventy thousand candidates waiting for evaluation—some for more than ten years.
And it was during this patronage-based filtering that the Register of Clans played its real role—using surname hierarchy to cap the advancement of elite families.
The restricted aristocrats soon discovered a new path:
The imperial examinations were the best cradle of all.