In truth, the ministers of the Hall of Sweet Dew were not especially concerned with how Huang Chao met his end.
Whether he died by blade or sickness mattered little.
The moment he butchered the ranks of late Tang officials, his name had already been carved into history—deeply and irreversibly.
Compared to that, a single phrase displayed on the light screen seized everyone's attention far more forcefully:
Feudal society devours people.
"Are we…" Fang Xuanling asked slowly, disbelief written across his face,
"…people who eat others?"
The phrase itself was not difficult to understand. Similar expressions had appeared as early as the Spring and Autumn period, and again in the Former Han—speaking of land enfeoffment, of states within states.
What they could not comprehend was this:
What had later ages become, for such a judgment to be spoken so bluntly?
Faced with Fang Xuanling's stunned question, Wei Zheng and Du Ruhui fell silent.
As for Changsun Wuji—
He was grinding ink for Li Shimin, calm and focused, while casually "borrowing" Fang Xuanling's written copy of The Lament of the Qin Woman to use as a reference for the emperor's calligraphy.
Wei Zheng finally spoke.
"If we look at the Wei and Jin aristocratic clans," he said evenly,
"how could they not be eating people?"
Du Ruhui did not answer.
He carefully examined the long poem in his hands again and again before folding it away with unusual solemnity.
Compared to the dazzling, fleeting verses shown earlier, this poem's diction was plain—almost stark.
And yet every line seemed soaked in blood.
With each word, an unprecedented empire collapsed quietly into dust.
Du Ruhui himself was a man of the Du clan, steeped in the classics since childhood. He understood all too well that in the eyes of the great families—
There had never been common people.
The Wei–Jin aristocracy had lived exactly this way:
They took grain from the people.
They conscripted the people's sons and daughters.
They indulged the desires of a single house—
And ruined the foundations of an entire realm.
Family before state.
And so came endless war.
The nameless farmers who bent over their fields year after year were ground into nothingness between marching armies.
In Du Ruhui's mind, a vision unfolded:
Generations of scholars, laughing together, their words blooming like brocade.
Scrolls in their hands, each character a pearl.
Their conversations filled with ancestral glory—
With which marquess or minister had once sheltered their house.
And then—
A descendant from a later age, utterly out of place among them, saying only one sentence:
"Look. They're eating people."
Du Ruhui said nothing.
He bore the surname Du. He should have defended the great clans.
But he also remembered this:
If one calculated carefully, that future descendant had once saved his life.
Heaven had extended his years—not to glorify the Jingzhao Du clan.
There had to be something greater intended.
Fang Xuanling and Wei Zheng—neither from towering aristocratic houses—continued their debate about "eating people."
But Du Ruhui could already feel it.
The great chariot named Tang had begun to drift—just slightly—off its established track.
Wei Zhuang's Lament of the Qin Woman struck with equal force in Chengdu.
The poem contained no ornament, no embellishment. And because of that, Zhuge Liang felt a chill crawl through his entire body as he read.
This was not the Tang of high splendor.
He recalled a phrase the light screen often used:
"This… is the collapse of an empire."
The fall of a giant made even foxes mourn.
Seeing Tang's ruin, one could not help but worry for the chaos at the end of Han.
Zhang Fei, as always, was blunt.
"This Tang should've fallen long ago!"
"Bandits bribed and spared; the emperor abandons the state to save himself;
The people raise a nation, yet suffer its disasters!"
"Ministers without backbone!
Sons of Heaven without virtue!
Generals without righteousness!"
"This is no flourishing Tang—
This is a state without bones, without virtue, without honor!"
"Huang Chao had Tang poetry in his veins—
Inviting Tang to its death was entirely appropriate!"
Inviting Tang to its death.
The words were heretical—yet no one refuted them.
At this point, with the capital fallen again, the emperor fleeing alone, government troops looting civilians, and military governors raising bandits for profit—
If Tang did not die now, then when should it?
Still, Zhang Fei's words made several people uneasy as they thought of their own time.
Realizing this, Zhang Fei hurriedly added,
"I only wonder whether Tang had men like my elder brother—
Loyal and righteous enough to rise and restore the realm."
"Difficult," Zhuge Liang said softly, shaking his head.
"In late Tang, aristocratic clans and meritorious families occupied the center and squeezed the four directions. To the people, they were the face of government suffering."
As for Han…
Zhuge Liang did not say it aloud.
In truth, wasn't it the same?
Powerful families raising armies, weighing the Nine Tripods in their hearts—
All rebels. All traitors. All men of ambition.
Liu Bei spoke quietly,
"Have The Lament of the Qin Woman copied and hung in the hall later.
Let it warn us always of the calamities born of aristocratic power."
Zhuge Liang agreed at once.
Thinking of Chang'an and Luoyang's fate, Liu Bei's voice grew desolate.
"In times of chaos, the capital regions suffer most."
Dong Zhuo burned Luoyang.
Li Jue and Guo Si ravaged Chang'an.
Cities of learning, reduced to ash.
The fertile heart of Guanzhong, scarred again and again by steel.
Zhuge Liang fell silent.
How many dynasties after Wei and Jin had chosen Luoyang or Chang'an as their capital?
How many times had those cities paid the price?
Pang Tong said lightly,
"In that case, we should take Chang'an this year—
So my lord can govern it properly."
The room stirred.
Even Liu Bei was surprised.
"This year? But our Jing–Yi troops are weary…"
Pang Tong shook his head.
"Xianhe has written. Ma Chao possesses talent but no stability.
Han Sui is clever, slippery, and fickle. Within a year, Yong and Liang will descend into chaos."
Liu Bei understood immediately.
If they waited in Hanzhong while Ma Chao and Han Sui fell out again, Xiahou Yuan might seize the chance—allying with Han Sui to strike Ma Chao.
By then, the battle would be far harder.
The only concern was this:
Even if Chang'an were taken, it lacked natural defenses.
How to seize Tong Pass afterward remained the true difficulty.
And so when they saw Huang Chao capture Tong Pass in two days—
Their eyes nearly popped out.
Since when had the greatest pass under Heaven become paper-thin?
Liu Bei looked at Pang Tong, faintly pleased.
Then at Zhuge Liang, serene as still water.
I have my strategists. What do I fear?
His thoughts drifted again—to Fa Zheng.
"I wonder how Xiaozhi fares in Hanzhong."
Zhang Fei's voice broke his reverie.
"So this Song… was it really that worthless?"
Reading the later ridicule displayed on the screen, Zhang Fei grasped the meaning instantly.
"The Humiliation of Jingkang…
More shameful than losing the state itself?"
The light screen answered in cold detail.
[ Lightscreen]
[Stone Chonggui had many faults:
Great ambition, little talent.
Fickle loyalties.
Poor judgment of men.
But he had fought the Liao.
Twice defeated the Khitan.
Even dared to issue a nationwide call for northern expedition.
His failure came only when his appointed commander, Du Chongwei, defected on the battlefield.
At least—he died standing.
Jingkang, however, needed no long explanation.
Its three shames were simple:
Paying silver.
Selling wives.
The Ceremony of Leading the Sheep.
And as always, the people suffered worst.
The Southern Song physician Zhuang Chuo recorded what he saw:
Grain selling for thousands of coins per peck—yet unobtainable.
Officials, bandits, civilians devouring one another.
Human flesh cheaper than dog meat.
Old, thin men called "extra firewood."
Young women named "better than lamb."
Children called "soft bones."
Real records. Real suffering.
By comparison, the Tang histories' accounts of Huang Chao's cannibalism seemed pale—almost fabricated.
Because the truth was this:
Before Huang Chao, aristocratic families did not perish when states fell.
After Huang Chao, nobility lived and died with the state.
Under warlord blades, examination reforms, cheaper paper, and the joint efforts of Huang Chao and Zhu Wen—
The great clans were nearly wiped out.
Some asked: What about the Kong family? Weren't they a thousand-year clan?
The answer required revision:
Southern Kong had backbone.
Northern Kong perfected submission.
At Jingkang, the Kong clan split.
The northern branch stayed.
The southern carried Confucius's relics south.
From then on, their paths diverged.
The northern Kongs survived every conqueror—
Yuan, then Qing.
A fitting couplet remained:
Confucius spoke of benevolence, Mencius of righteousness.
Today: those who know the times are heroes.
Yesterday bowed to Mongols, today kneel to Manchus—
A family rich in persuasion.
Horizontal inscription:
The Kneeling Clan.
The Southern Kongs had a more tragic fate. When the Song fell, some jumped into the sea to die for the country.
In the Yuan Dynasty, the Mongols wanted to find the Southern Kongs to make them the 'Dukes of Yan-sheng' (the official title), but they refused, saying they only wanted to farm. Thus, the Northern Kongs became the 'official' branch.In the Yuan Dynasty, the Mongols wanted to find the Southern Kongs to make them the 'Dukes of Yan-sheng' (the official title), but they refused, saying they only wanted to farm. Thus, the Northern Kongs became the 'official' branch.
By the Qing Dynasty, the Southern Kongs joined the resistance and were banned from performing ancestral rites. Today, the Northern branch still lingers in Taiwan, while the Southern branch integrated into the common people and can no longer be called a 'Great Clan.'By the Qing Dynasty, the Southern Kongs joined the resistance and were banned from performing ancestral rites. Today, the Northern branch still lingers in Taiwan, while the Southern branch integrated into the common people and can no longer be called a 'Great Clan.'
In short, though a few fish slipped through the net, the era of the Great Clans met a rather unrefined end at the hands of Huang Chao and Zhu Wen.]
Li Shimin finished copying The Lament of the Qin Woman with meticulous care.
He turned to the light screen—and his eyes widened again.
"This Zhao Song dynasty—
Where is its martial virtue?"
He knew the Ceremony of Leading the Sheep well.
For the victor, supreme glory.
For the defeated—ultimate humiliation.
Selling wives. Leading sheep.
Who those people were needed no explanation.
Confusion flashed across his face—then fury.
"Inheriting Tang's legacy, yet calmly enduring such shame—
How is this possible?!"
"Land can be ceded.
Wives and daughters sold.
The Son of Heaven wagging his tail to beg for peace!"
"This Song cast the face of Central Plains civilization into the mud!"
"And still they dared call themselves Song?
In my view, having given gold, land, wives, and daughters—
They might as well have named themselves the Giving Dynasty!"
It was the fury of iron refusing to become steel.
From what Li Shimin saw, Tang inherited Sui and surpassed it.
How had Song—born of Tang—grown so unbearable to look at?
As for the Kong family's later deeds—
One glance at the couplet revealed the truth.
"So… Yuan was Mongol Yuan.
Qing was Manchu Qing."
"For a thousand years after Song—
It opened this precedent?"
The light screen dimmed.
This episode had ended.
Now—it was time to consider what gift to send.