Sun Simiao was still quietly weighing the question of why he had been summoned when, the moment he stepped into Ganlu Hall, something was abruptly pressed into his hands.
Instinctively steadying it, he lifted his gaze—and was nearly blinded by the gleam of red-gold light.
It was a rectangular sheet of crimson gold, refined to perfection. Upon it, eight powerful characters had been inlaid with silver wire, every stroke firm, vigorous, and brimming with intent.
Sun Simiao read them aloud in a low voice:
"Universal Celebration—The Beginning of a Flourishing Age."
"A lofty ambition," Du Ruhui praised, nodding. "Though one that still demands diligence."
"A flourishing age should last over a hundred years!" Changsun Wuji declared boldly.
Sun Simiao said nothing. He gently traced the surface of the golden foil with his fingers.
In the upper right corner were three small characters:
Sun, the Medicine King.
In the lower left corner were the words:
Emperor Li Shimin.
Everyone present held a similar sheet of gold—but no two inscriptions were exactly the same.
Standing at the center of the hall, Li Shimin spoke with unmistakable pride:
"Last year, we destroyed Jieli Khan, washed away my humiliation, and proclaimed the might of Tang. All of this was thanks to Yaoshi and Maogong leading our armies with brilliance."
"From this year onward, I still require all of you to stand united—pierce through the Western Regions, connect the four seas, and forge a truly Great Tang!"
The civil and military officials responded in unison:
"We are willing to give our lives for the flourishing Tang!"
Yan Lide exchanged a glance with Sun Simiao, both utterly confused.
Yan Lide, in particular, felt deeply unsettled. Last year, my younger brother was privately criticizing His Majesty—so why does he look more fired up than anyone now?
The doubt gnawed at him. Could it be that the one who followed His Majesty to pacify Luoyang back then was Yan Liben, not me?
Li Shimin, however, had no intention of explaining.
After all—if Sun Simiao suddenly pulled out that little notebook again, where would his image as a peerless emperor for the ages even go?
Sweeping his gaze across the hall, Li Shimin raised his wine cup.
Much like these red-gold foils—crafted both to celebrate last year's redemption and to mark the New Year—Ganlu Hall had also prepared grape wine for the ministers.
But Sun Simiao stepped forward calmly, neither servile nor arrogant.
"Your Majesty suffers from head-wind ailments. Alcohol should be strictly forbidden."
Li Shimin's smile froze.
Changsun Wuji immediately spoke up in protest:
"His Majesty has eaten lightly for half a year—less fat, mild flavors. Can he not even drink a single cup?"
Sun Simiao looked Changsun Wuji up and down and replied evenly:
"Then do you wish His Majesty's efforts over the past half year to be rendered meaningless in a single day?"
Changsun Wuji opened his mouth, clearly ready to snap back—but recalling Sun Simiao's reputation and medical skill, and considering he might one day need this man's help, he ultimately swallowed his words and retreated.
Li Shimin laughed heartily and set the cup down.
"As the Medicine King advises."
Soon, the ministers gathered in small groups, drinking and chatting.
Yan Lide listened to his younger brother speak, occasionally glancing toward the distant blank wall. His eyebrows slowly crept upward—until he finally cast a resentful look at the Emperor, who was quietly engrossed in conversation with Sun Simiao.
Li Shimin didn't say much—he merely rambled about theories of hereditary traits and bodily inheritance, completely captivating Sun Simiao's interest.
"Where did Your Majesty learn such ideas?" Sun Simiao asked curiously.
"Even the terminology sounds… refreshingly novel."
Li Shimin tilted his chin toward the blank wall.
Sun Simiao looked puzzled.
Then—
From the bottom of the wall, a thin black crack began creeping upward. It spread silently until a crimson-black window tore open before his eyes.
Sun Simiao recoiled in shock, stumbling backward—only to be caught firmly by Li Shimin, who had clearly been prepared for this.
Li Shimin grinned.
"How long," the Emperor teased, "has the King of Medicine had this trouble with sitting upright in a chair?"
...
Chengdu Prefectural Office
Even after sitting down, Xu Shu was still shaking his head in disbelief.
"So the land beneath our feet… is called Earth?"
"And in the heavens above, our descendants have built celestial palaces?"
"The moon holds no Moon Palace—yet bears Zhang Heng's name?"
"How astonishing! To not witness this with one's own eyes—this is the greatest regret of my life!"
Normally, when someone spoke this way, their friends would offer comfort.
But this time, the subject was the Earth itself.
Liu Bei, Kongming, Liu Ba, Mi Zhu, Zhang Song, Zhang Fei—all nodded solemnly.
"To not see it personally—truly a lifelong regret."
Xu Shu felt it most keenly. He flicked his finger against his cup, producing clear, ringing notes to vent his sorrow.
Sharing this regret were Fa Zheng and Zhao Yun.
Three months earlier, Zhao Yun had personally escorted General Liu Zhang to Jiangling, ensuring he lived out his days as a wealthy idle noble—missing the timing by a hair.
Fa Zheng, meanwhile, had chosen to remain behind to guard Hanzhong.
Looking back, even knowing the splendor of the light curtain, he would still have made the same choice—but regret was unavoidable.
This time, Pang Tong strongly urged Fa Zheng to return briefly, effectively rotating duties.
Even with Zhang Fei and Fa Zheng both absent, Hanzhong remained secure under Pang Tong, Wei Yan, Huo Jun, and Guan Ping—more than enough to face Yongliang and Guanzhong.
Nearby, Zhang Zhongjing tugged Kongming aside, peppering him with questions.
The subtext was clear:
Are these truly auspicious signs?
He hadn't believed it at first—but seeing everyone from Liu Bei to Zhang Song so convinced, even he began to waver.
Then—
Under Liu Bei's smiling gaze, and Xu Shu's stunned expression, the familiar light curtain unfolded once more in midair.
...
The Modern World
Wen Mang rubbed his hands together.
The video could be scheduled—but he preferred to upload manually.
There was a sense of ritual to it. Plus, he got to see that god-awful H5 game the platform kept relentlessly promoting in the top-right corner.
Out of habit, he clicked it to clear notifications.
Sure enough—the number that had dropped to zero last time was now two.
So that's why there was a red dot.
Too lazy to complain, he upgraded [Increase Audience] once again, closed the page, and exited.
Then—
He clicked [Publish].
...
Bianjing — Wende Hall
Zhao Kuangyin stood in casual attire, a finely crafted slingshot hanging from the left side of his belt, and a small jade axe tucked into the right.
His expression was full of impatience.
The scenery had been excellent today. He'd risen early to hunt birds in the rear garden when an attendant reported that Censor Zhang Ai had struck the Jingyang Bell, claiming there was urgent military intelligence.
He hadn't even changed clothes—just shoved the slingshot into his belt and rushed over.
Yet Zhang Ai spent ages droning on about winning hearts in Shu—no military report, no urgency.
When Zhang Ai repeated his points about southern campaign supplies for the third time, Zhao Kuangyin finally snapped:
"Such trivial matters—do not disturb me again!"
Zhang Ai was prepared.
"Compared to them, Your Majesty hunting birds is the truly trivial matter."
Zhao Kuangyin's body moved faster than his mind.
Rage surged. His hand flew to his waist—and the jade axe shot straight into Zhang Ai's face.
Silence fell over the hall.
Zhang Ai shook his head, regained clarity, bent down, calmly picked up the tooth that had been knocked out, and slipped it into his robe.
Zhao Kuangyin sneered.
"Picking up your tooth—planning to sue me?"
Zhang Ai replied expressionlessly:
"A minister cannot sue his ruler.
But historians can write."
Zhao Kuangyin's eyes widened.
At last, he forced a stiff smile.
"You are loyal to the state. Gold and silk shall be awarded to comfort you."
Zhang Ai left Wende Hall without fear, silk under one arm and gold in hand.
The Emperor seeks to bribe me—this too shall be recorded in history.
Returning to the rear garden, Zhao Kuangyin sat gloomily, turning the jade axe in his hands.
Then he slammed the stone table.
"I should have charged him with deceiving the throne!"
But it was too late.
He slumped—then froze.
The stone round table… was glowing.
The carved chessboard vanished, replaced by a glowing screen filled with unfamiliar images, music, and voices.
Zhao Kuangyin stared at his right hand, then at the table—his dark face filled with disbelief.
Video Begins
Hey hey hey, everyone!
What's up, my fellow time-travelers!
Today we're opening a brand-new Tang Dynasty pit: The An Lushan Rebellion.
Three Kingdoms content will continue once materials stack up—thanks for sticking around!
No time to waste—today's title is:
'An Lushan: The Best Spokesman for the Tang Dream.'"
Comments exploded across the screen:
[TangIsMyRomanEmpire]: "Here we go. Talking Tang without An Lushan is like scratching an itch through boots.
The grander the prosperity forged by Second Phoenix, the harder it shattered."
[SilkRoadBurns]: "One half of the Empire's Twin Jewels, forced into rebellion.
Xiangji Temple—Tang slicing its own artery dry.
History's always like this: fortresses fall from within."
[DynastyBreaker]: "The most consequential rebellion in Chinese history—ending a century of glory, severing the Silk Road, killing martial spirit, marking the Tang–Song divide."
[WhoRaisedThisGuy]: "Wasn't An Lushan basically created by Li Longji himself?
And didn't Chang'an fall because he helped him?"
[RealityCheck88]: "Come on. An Lushan went blind in year two and died in year three—yet the war dragged on eight years.
He was just the fuse."
[StructuralContradictions]: "Regional conflicts. Ethnic tensions. Power struggles.
Disaster was inevitable."
[Zhuge Liang): "Li Erfeng, remember: calm the heart, restrain desire, return to stillness."
Zhao Kuangyin immediately ordered the rear garden sealed.
No one was allowed near.
Then he hugged the stone table and began studying it.
...
Ganlu Hall fell silent once more.
Yan Lide and Yan Liben whispered together. There was little to paint in the opening, so the brothers decided to sketch the barbarian first.
This time, Li Shimin did not step forward to write commentary.
He sat silently on the couch at the back.
Sun Simiao had long since recovered from the shock of the light curtain—but the Emperor's sudden silence was far more unsettling.
After shifting uneasily, Sun Simiao finally spoke:
"Is this… Your Majesty's heart ailment?"
Li Shimin nodded slowly.
"And the Five Viscera Diagram—also from this place?"
Another nod.
Sun Simiao remained calm.
"If this place could bestow the Five Viscera Diagram, then it must also contain the cure for Your Majesty's ailment."
"Your heart's illness arose from this—and will end here as well."
Sun Simiao spoke from principle.
Li Shimin looked at the screen. The Tang had fallen because its martial spirit turned inward.
The Song, seeing this, would cast away the sword to protect the throne—but in doing so, they would lose their national soul.
How do we break the cycle? he wondered.