In truth, Li Shimin's guess had been almost entirely correct.
Xun You sat fairly close to his lord, and so he had seen things more clearly than most.
While the others were still marveling at the brilliance of the luminous curtain, he alone had witnessed Zhang Fei's suspicious little movements beside Cao Cao.
Zhang Fei had scribbled something on a scrap of paper, crumpled it, then forcibly stuffed it into Cao Cao's hand.
Because Cao Cao's leg was still injured, and because the two sides had only recently been fighting one another, both Xiahou Dun and Xun You had offered to sit beside him to assist if needed.
Yet in the end, the seat next to Cao Cao had somehow gone to Zhang Fei.
And just moments earlier, while Xun Yu, Dong Zhao, and the others were still astonished by the curtain's voice, light, and the mention of distant lands like Wa, Xun You had watched Zhang Fei seize Cao Cao's arm, pry open his fingers, and toss that crumpled note straight into the glowing screen.
A line of text had immediately appeared.
Cao Cao exploded.
"Zhang Fei!"
"I hear you, I hear you," Zhang Fei replied lazily, digging a finger into his ear before glancing at Cao Cao's splinted leg. "A defeated general shouldn't be so eager to roar, shouldn't he?"
Cao Cao's face flushed with fury, but before he could speak, another voice rose sharply from the hall.
"Zhang Yide, have you no sense of propriety? Though Cao Gong has suffered defeat, he is still the Chancellor of the Han. How can you insult him so lightly?"
"Insult?" Zhang Fei shot to his feet at once, his temper igniting. "Where did I insult him?"
His eyes swept across the hall, voice growing louder.
"What, are you people not prisoners of war? Or did my elder brother invite you all here for a pleasant banquet and a spring outing?"
The room fell silent.
But Zhang Fei only pressed harder, stabbing a finger toward the speaker.
"If Xiahou Dun had said that, I'd respect him for brotherly loyalty."
"But you, Liu Ye…" he snorted. "If Emperor Guangwu could see this from below, he'd be ashamed of you."
"You—!"
Liu Ye's face reddened. His finger trembled as he pointed at Zhang Fei, yet when he glanced toward Liu Bei seated above, calm and expressionless, his words stuck in his throat.
Everyone present knew Liu Ye's lineage well.
Cao Cao struck the table lightly, speaking before the situation could spiral further. Though he himself had never been especially fond of Liu Ye, the man had still chosen to serve him.
"Zi Yang risked peril to follow the Mandate of Heaven and answer the people's will. At that time, I united counties and provinces, and he wished to aid me in bringing the realm into peace. What shame is there in that?"
Zhang Fei snorted, clearly ready to argue further. Yet after catching a subtle glance from Liu Bei, he merely dropped back into his seat and waved a dismissive hand.
"If you want to talk about that, there's plenty to say," he muttered. "Old Cao, just watch first. When this thing's done, I'll gladly tell you what comes after your life."
Liu Ye burned with humiliation.
Cao Cao, too, had many unanswered questions.
Yet the luminous curtain was too wondrous to ignore, and one by one they all settled back down, their eyes returning to the glowing surface.
---
Meanwhile, in the Guangzheng Hall of Bianliang.
Zhao Kuangyin looked up thoughtfully at the sentence from Cao Cao drifting across the curtain.
Then he lowered his gaze toward Qian Chu and Li Yu, both still stunned enough to have forgotten their earlier quarrel.
With an unusually warm smile, Zhao Kuangyin gestured toward the stone table nearby.
"Chongguang, would you like to try writing something here? If you do, Tang Taizong and Zhuge Wuhou might see it as well."
Li Yu's eyes flickered with temptation.
But after a brief pause, he shook his head.
"Looking up like this is already uncomfortable. If I lower my head to write as well, I fear my neck won't survive it. I'll decline for now."
He was no fool.
Judging from what Cao Cao had just said, Zhao Kuangyin clearly hoped he would write something similar.
Being captured was already humiliation enough. Writing words that bound himself further would be worse than death.
Besides, though both their states had borne the name Tang, he knew perfectly well that apart from the shared surname, his Jiangnan Li clan had nothing whatsoever to do with Li Shimin's Longxi Li lineage.
There was nothing meaningful he could say.
"Father," Zhao Dezhao spoke quietly from the side, "though this curtain is wondrous, looking up at it really is inconvenient… could we perhaps invite it onto the palace wall?"
That simple remark instantly reminded Zhao Kuangyin of the discussions from three months earlier, when figures of Han, Tang, and Ming had spoken about viewing the curtain.
His expression darkened slightly.
He had been about to write down news that the south of Great Song was already pacified and that only the northern campaign remained before unification could be achieved.
But he set the brush aside instead.
Better first see what sort of people appeared before the fall of Southern Song.
Nearby, Zhao Pu was softly explaining to Li Yu and Qian Chu what this curtain might be. One exclaimed in astonishment, the other frowned in thought.
Only then did Zhao Kuangyin's smile return.
For him, though the south had been conquered, truly integrating it into Song territory would take time.
Qian Chu was slippery, but not truly worrying. His clan could be dispersed and settled gradually until the title King of Qiantang faded into history.
Li Yu, however, was more troublesome.
Kind-hearted, yet extravagant.
Reluctant to surrender land, yet unwilling to strengthen his army.
Renowned for his literary talent.
And Jiangnan itself lay along the coast, economically vital. Later generations had repeatedly spoken of the shift of economic gravity southward and the resulting power struggles with the center.
All of this had led Zhao Kuangyin and Zhao Pu to one conclusion:
If they wished to prevent the Jiangnan clans from growing too powerful, the key lay with Li Yu himself.
And how to change Li Yu's stubborn mind?
Nothing could be better than the luminous curtain.
Zhao Kuangyin's gaze drifted toward his bald-headed younger brother, who was staring up at the curtain with lively curiosity.
If Li Yu and that brother ended up quarreling one day…
Which side would he support?
---
The curtain's voice resumed.
---
[Lightscreen]
["We mentioned last time that Meng Gong could be called the man who patched up Southern Song.
Through a three-layer defensive system, strategic depth, and mobile defense far ahead of its time, Southern Song managed to survive the Mongol onslaught. This strategy also granted the rear regions decades of peace.
And in that peace, one scholar lived out his life in relative safety.
He was born into an ordinary bureaucratic family. In school he excelled, becoming a top student, yet when it came to the imperial examinations, he failed repeatedly. Nearly ten years passed before he finally earned a second-tier jinshi degree.
After entering office, he rotated through posts across many regions, serving as magistrate, agricultural official, judicial inspector, prefect, and pacification commissioner. After more than twenty years governing localities, he eventually died in office.
During those decades of service, it must be said plainly that he viewed the peasant uprisings of Southern Song with hostility. He helped suppress revolts in Nan'an of Jiangxi, Tingzhou of Fujian, Shaowu, Jianzhou, and elsewhere.
Yet at the same time, he felt genuine sympathy for the suffering people.
While serving as magistrate of Changting County, the region was burdened by constant corvée labor for transporting salt from Fujian. Public resentment boiled over. He memorialized the throne, proposing maritime transport instead, reducing the labor to just three months each year.
Later, when serving in Nan Jianzhou, disaster struck. Powerful local clans hoarded grain and manipulated prices. He organized relief measures so effectively that 'no one starved' through the famine.
Personally, though he held a high office with a generous stipend, he owned no fertile estates, no fine horses. He wore plain robes all his life.
Such a record, in that era, was hardly extraordinary. At most one might say he was a conscientious administrator.
Yet it was precisely this conscientiousness that mattered.
While serving as Judicial Inspector, drawing on earlier knowledge, his own experience, and above all his attitude toward cases and his belief that 'the lives of the people must come first,' he compiled a work that would shine through the ages.
Xi Yuan Ji Lu.
The Washing Away of Wrongs."]