Back in the Song, this place had been called Jiankang Prefecture.
Under the Yuan it became Jiqing Circuit.
Only after the Hongwu Emperor drove out the Mongols did the name Yingtian Prefecture settle into place, as if history itself had finally decided to stop changing its mind.
And as the palaces rose, the halls spread outward, and new walls wrapped themselves around the city like layers of armor, even those born and raised here had to admit it now truly carried the bearing of an imperial capital.
A full circuit of the outer city took more than a hundred li.
From one side to the other stretched forty.
Thirteen inner gates, eighteen outer gates.
Dozens of main avenues, hundreds of alleys twisting like veins through the districts.
Six or seven hundred wine houses scattered throughout the wards.
Eight or nine hundred teahouses filling every street corner.
If a man had spare coins and hired a boat to drift along the Qinhuai River into the city, then when the water ran high he could watch painted pleasure boats glide past day and night, hear flutes and drums drifting across the surface, see crowds thick as mist beneath glittering balconies.
At night, when hundreds of lanterns lit the upper floors of the wine houses, the reflections in the water made it look like the city had grown a second sky beneath itself. Soft singing floated across the river, sometimes mournful, sometimes tender, always enough to make travelers linger longer than they meant to.
If this was not a good place, then nowhere in the empire could claim to be one.
Yet today, something felt different.
From morning onward, carriages rolled endlessly through the streets, boats tied up in clusters along the riverbanks, and officials in formal robes hurried toward the palace district as though late for an exam.
In the teahouses, where gossip outran official proclamations by several streets, someone finally shouted loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Today's His Majesty's Heavenly Longevity Festival!"
Understanding spread instantly.
Commoners exchanged looks. Some clicked their tongues. Others sighed.
"Must be nice," one muttered.
"Free banquet for officials again," another said.
"Free for them, paid by us," a third added with philosophical calm.
The officials themselves, however, were in no mood to feel fortunate.
They passed through the Hongwu Gate, crossed the outer Five-Dragon Bridge, and reached Chengtian Gate, where ceremonial guards checked seals and credentials one by one. No one spoke loudly. No one dared.
From there they entered the Meridian Gate, paused briefly, then crossed the inner Five-Dragon Bridge and passed through Fengtian Gate.
They moved around Fengtian Hall and Huagai Hall, until finally they reached the northernmost of the Three Great Halls.
Jinshen Hall.
Today's imperial banquet would be held here.
Those qualified to attend entered quietly, each man suddenly very aware of how heavy his official robes felt.
By the time more than half the ministers had arrived, a sharp-eyed eunuch slipped out the north door and hurried toward the inner palace.
He passed Qianqing Palace, then Jiaotai Palace, and soon Kunning Palace appeared ahead, residence of the Empress.
Before he even reached the steps, he heard the Emperor's voice carrying clearly from inside.
"If you're not feeling well, then rest properly. I'll eat lightly with the officials first, and later I'll come back and dine with you."
A gentle voice replied, soft but firm.
"Since this is your first Longevity Festival, Chongba…"
The eunuch immediately halted, stepped back two paces, and pretended the world had suddenly become very interesting elsewhere.
Fortunately, only a few breaths later the Emperor stepped out.
The eunuch hurried forward and reported that Jinshen Hall was prepared and the ministers were waiting.
The Emperor nodded, then paused as if remembering something.
"The physicians said the Empress only caught a chill. Fine. Go fetch that screen from Huagai Hall. The one I like. Bring it here for her."
Not long afterward, attendants carried a richly decorated screen into Kunning Palace.
The Empress, still wrapped in blankets, watched them assemble it before quietly withdrawing as instructed.
She sighed softly.
She had meant to sleep first and talk to her husband later when he returned from the banquet.
But just as she settled back into the pillows, something strange happened.
The surface of the screen rippled like disturbed water.
The carvings faded.
The painted decorations vanished.
In their place appeared a glowing panel, and from it came a young man's voice, energetic and far too cheerful for something that had just materialized inside the imperial palace.
"Hello hello hello, this is your illiterate uploader Wen Mang again. Today, just like we said last time, we're continuing the story of the latter half of the Southern Song."
For a moment the Empress forgot to breathe.
Was this an illusion? A heavenly sign? Some immortal device?
Her first instinct was to summon someone to fetch the Emperor immediately.
But then she hesitated.
The Longevity banquet must already be underway.
The Emperor would be busy dealing with ministers, ceremonies, toasts, and whatever else officials managed to complicate.
Perhaps… she should listen first.
Storytelling about history had existed since the Song itself. She was not unfamiliar with it.
When she first arrived in Yingtian, she had even gone to taverns to hear tales of the Tang and the Three Kingdoms.
As for the Song… she had personally visited the old anti-Jin fortifications in mourning for Yue Fei.
Had she truly just missed the earlier part of this tale?
Strangely, her fatigue seemed to ease a little.
For a moment she even considered calling for fruit.
Then she remembered how quickly palace gossip spread and wisely gave up the idea.
Meanwhile, lines of text drifted across the glowing panel, filled with strange expressions she half understood and half did not.
Far away in Chang'an, inside Ganlu Hall, Emperor Li Shimin watched the familiar light screen appear once more.
He let out a slow, satisfied breath.
It was now the fourth month of the sixth year of Zhenguan.
Thinking back over the past year, things really had unfolded much as the screen had hinted long ago.
The realm had enjoyed good weather. No major disasters.
The campaign against Tuyuhun had taken only four months yet brought immense gains. Over one hundred thousand head of livestock. New horse pastures and salt works in Qinghai. Any way one counted it, the court had profited handsomely.
Reports from Dengzhou brought further good news. Li Shiji and Liu Rengui had sailed east. The Tang court provided only equipment and preserved rations, while Silla, Baekje, and Wa supplied the grain.
Even better news came from the south.
Rice seeds from Champa had arrived, and the Ministry of Agriculture was already arranging trial plantings.
As for the letter sent back with those seeds, Li Shimin had already made his decision.
Li Jing had departed, bringing along his prized student Pei Xingjian, heading toward Yizhou Island to establish a new naval force.
When the time came, sea and land forces would advance together to subdue Champa's defiance.
And in the southern seas, Tang authority would be proclaimed far and wide.