The Son of Heaven of Ming walked around the folding screen twice.
It was indeed the same screen that used to stand in Huagai Hall.
Yet the faint luminous curtain spread across it was something he had never seen there before in all these years.
He leaned in, stretching his neck to peer closer, but it seemed impossible to see what lay beyond the glow.
He poked it with a finger.
The surface rippled like water, yet his finger felt no resistance at all.
Curiosity immediately took hold.
After glancing around, he reached into his wife's sewing basket and pulled out a pair of scissors.
"Zhu Baba! What are you doing!"
The sudden shout startled him so badly his hand shook.
He grabbed the scissors in a hurry and turned his head, only to see his wife still wrapped in her quilt, but now standing upright with a stern expression.
"Lower your voice… I was just worried this thing might be some sorcerer's trick…"
"It came from Huagai Hall. What sorcery could it possibly be?"
With a faint sigh, she walked over, took the scissors from his hand, and carefully returned them to the sewing basket.
Perhaps from the movement or the raised voice, Empress Ma coughed a few times.
That alone made the Ming emperor visibly flustered.
All irritation at the nickname vanished at once.
He helped her sit down carefully and listened as she steadied her breath before speaking.
"I do not believe in prophecies or apocryphal writings. Still, the history this thing speaks of is quite interesting."
"Interesting?"
Empress Ma smiled gently, completely different from her earlier sternness.
"It speaks like a storyteller in a teahouse. It recounts history and praises heroes."
"You've read the histories thoroughly. What could be new about that?" Zhu Yuanzhang said dismissively.
"There is a difference. For instance, it mentioned a state called the Southern Ming, even worse than the Southern Song."
"Is that thing insulting our Great Ming?" Zhu Yuanzhang shot to his feet, his eyes drifting once more toward the sewing basket.
Empress Ma tugged him back down with some effort.
After a moment's thought, she decided not to mention yet that the screen had described a later emperor as a once-in-a-millennium fool.
Instead she said,
"It also claims that whenever later generations speak of enlightened rulers, they always mention Li Shimin and Zhu Baba."
She watched her husband's face twist in conflict.
He looked as if he wanted to point at the screen and argue with it, but in the end he simply slapped his knee.
"If we speak of rulers who brought peace to the realm and governed diligently for generations, we should name Emperor Gaozu of Han and Emperor Guangwu.
If we speak of heroic sovereigns, who could match Emperor Tai… wait. Li Shimin is Emperor Taizong of Tang?"
Empress Ma nodded, holding back her laughter, and began helping him remove his heavy ceremonial robe.
"You are indoors now. There is no need to keep wearing such inconvenient court dress."
She tossed the robe aside, then went to the hall door and gave instructions through it.
"Send someone to inform the officials at Jinshen Hall that the Empress is experiencing palpitations and requires His Majesty's company for a while."
"Once the Empress has taken her medicine and broken into a sweat, His Majesty will go to Jinshen Hall to apologize to the ministers."
The Ming emperor watched with a smile as she arranged everything with calm efficiency, including his own schedule.
"If Zhu Baba fears some hidden sorcery, then stay here with me and listen."
"It happens to be talking about the founding of the Mongol state now. You should know more about that than I do."
The emperor sighed.
"Fine. But at least call me Chongba."
In a villa outside Luoyang, the cheerful atmosphere dimmed slightly because of a single name.
Zhuge Liang gave a helpless smile.
"Who exactly is this 'Zhuge Not-Bright' supposed to be?"
Lu Su had a guess.
"Most likely just a playful remark from later generations."
"Still, the decline of Jin matches Xin Qiji's judgment almost perfectly."
He recited:
"The poor gamble for wealth and forget death.
The wealthy fear poverty and cling to life.
Those who forget death charge forward and break every defense.
Those who fear death hesitate, and every battle ends in defeat."
Zhuge Liang nodded, then shook his head.
He thought of the failure of the Northern Song reforms, then of how Jin had raised a threat it could not control.
The resemblance was difficult to ignore.
"Later generations say the root of reform lies in the distribution of interests."
"Looking at Jin now, if it wished for lasting stability, each group needed its share."
Lu Su immediately understood.
"The Northern Song reforms aimed to let soldiers and commoners gain a portion of the benefits held by scholar-officials.
Later historians said they feared bloodshed, so reform failed, factional strife worsened, and the Jingkang catastrophe followed."
"Jin is much the same. Jurchen nobles consume the foundations of the state, stirring resentment everywhere.
In the north they failed to check the rise of the Mongols.
In the south they lacked ambition and drifted toward slow decline."
"Song and Jin were enemies, yet internally they were no different.
Both sought temporary safety, not true unification."
Liu Bei listened quietly, his wariness toward powerful clans growing stronger.
"Still…" Lu Su frowned.
"This Temujin subdued a tribe of three hundred thousand with barely five thousand cavalry?"
"You don't know this?" Zhang Fei immediately began gesturing wildly.
"Last year in Liangzhou, I dealt with local tribes the way Ma Chao taught me."
"Charge in, knock down anyone holding a weapon, then tell them they can win fame and silver by following me to war.
They borrow money, buy armor, mount their best horses, and come enlist.
Simple."
"I imagine the Mongols are no different."
Lu Su stared at him in astonishment.
He had always known General Ma trained troops roughly, but he had not imagined recruitment could be even rougher.
"And besides," Zhang Fei continued confidently,
"That Kereit Left Worthy King married two daughters to Temujin's father and son.
That makes them kin by marriage."
"Maybe he even thought the Kereit were the ones absorbing the Mongols."
Liu Bei shook his head calmly.
"No. The Kereit were not like those pro-peace ministers of the Southern Song. They would not confuse black and white like that."
Zhang Fei froze for a moment, then burst into laughter.
[Lighscreen]
[Genghis Khan's army was already poised to move.
What he himself probably did not expect was that the aftershocks of unifying the steppe tribes were already becoming too much for neighboring states to handle.
In 1206, Temujin completely defeated the Naiman, the Northern Naiman, and the Merkit who had opposed him.
Only then did he assume the title of Genghis Khan.
When the Naiman were destroyed, their ruler Tayang Khan was captured and killed on the spot.
His son Kuchlug fled west with the remnants of the tribe and sought refuge with the Merkit.
Less than a month later, Mongol cavalry arrived in pursuit.
The Merkit were defeated and absorbed.
Their leader Toqto'a fled together with Kuchlug.
Grateful for the shelter he had received, Kuchlug thumped his chest and declared there was no need to fear.
He would take them to seek protection from the Northern Naiman, their tribal relatives.
His uncle Buyurugh Khan would surely treat them well.
They had not even been there two months when Temujin led troops west into the Altai region and launched a surprise attack directly against Buyurugh Khan.
Buyurugh Khan was captured on the spot.
The Northern Naiman were destroyed.
The steppe was unified.
Temujin returned in triumph and formally took the title of Genghis Khan.
Kuchlug, who had once again sacrificed an uncle and narrowly escaped disaster, fled still farther west into the territory of the Western Liao.
What even he himself did not expect was this:
How did a fugitive prince like me end up becoming emperor of Western Liao just by relying on this face?]