Wen Yanran and Wen Jingmei stood together in the night, both gazing at the light before them.
In her eyes, it was nothing more than a crudely made electric lamp – by modern standards, probably no better than a children’s educational DIY toy. Yet at the same time, this was the very first electric lamp of the Great Zhou.
The carbonized bamboo filament had high electrical resistance, which allowed it to be heated to an extremely high temperature and emit light. Wen Yanran could actually locate tungsten ore, but compared to tungsten filament lamps, bamboo was far cheaper to obtain.
The lemon bamboo filament lamp before them was about as bright as a candle. As for cost, the difference wasn’t that significant either – the candles used in the Great Zhou were made of beeswax, which, whether in terms of output or price, was an absolute luxury. Although the metal materials used in the lemon lamp were somewhat expensive, they could be reused. And given that lemons were not produced in large quantities, oranges could be used as a substitute as well.
This lamp would not last very long.
On the one hand, the fruit battery provided only limited power; on the other hand, Wen Yanran had not yet been able to make a vacuum bulb. Exposed to the air, the bamboo charcoal filaments reacted with oxygen and would burn out after a short while.
The fading afterglow of the lamp fell upon the young sovereign’s profile. Wen Jingmei noticed that the other was looking at him.
The night was still. The faint light in Wen Yanran’s eyes was like a star rising above a sea of clouds in an endless, eternal darkness.
This time, Wen Jingmei did not choose to lower his gaze and look away.
From then on, he would never look away again.
The attendants carefully withdrew from the hall, leaving the space to the Sovereign and the State Preceptor so they could discuss “state affairs” in private.
After an unknown stretch of time, Wen Yanran suddenly let out a soft laugh and said unhurriedly, “I have long heard that you are skilled in divination. Why not help me interpret a character today?”
Wen Jingmei steadied himself before replying, “May I ask which character Your Majesty wishes to interpret?”
Wen Yanran: “The four characters ‘事在人为’ (‘everything depends on human effort’).”
Wen Jingmei said helplessly, “One does not interpret four characters at once in character-divination.”
Wen Yanran laughed. “Then interpret the character ‘往’ (‘to go’ / ‘onward’) — the ‘往’ from ‘无往不利，所战皆克，攻城略地，度如破竹之易’ (‘May every venture bring success, every battle be won; may you take cities and seize lands with ease, as easily as splitting bamboo’).”
“…”
Generally speaking, when interpreting a character, the one seeking the divination should leave the diviner enough room for interpretation. But Wen Yanran herself was clearly an emperor who believed more in “everything depending on human effort” than in metaphysics.
If Wen Jingmei could see himself at this moment, he would have noticed that he had already broken into an unconscious smile.
Many people were standing outside the sleeping hall of the Qingnan Palace, but Wen Jingmei had completely forgotten about them. His voice seemed to have a will of its own as he said to the young monarch before him, “Your Majesty’s words are as good as gold. What you have sought to divine today is already fully contained in what you have spoken.”
The Emperor had lingered too long at the Qingnan Palace the day before and had nearly been barred outside the palace gates upon her return. Yet today, she still rose at her usual hour, carrying out her diligent governance to the very end.
Cai Qu had come early to attend to her duties. As a court attendant, she arrived very early every day, but today, by the time she got there, the Emperor had already been awake for quite a while. She was sitting at his desk with a faint smile, carefully writing down her thoughts on making an electric lamp.
Wen Yanran had already recorded his ideas once in the [Monarch’s Notes], but after getting up today, she wrote another version on paper and solemnly entrusted it to her attendant to be preserved in the palace.
Cai Qu watched the Emperor bent over her desk, writing with focused diligence, and felt that, by the sheer diligence she showed in governing, the current emperor was enough to completely outshine many of her peers – especially those from eras closer to the present day.
Wen Yanran said, “Although the water route is now open, there is still a journey of five or six days between Taikang and Jianping. By now, quite a few skilled craftsmen have gathered at Jingyuan. Please ask Minister Ren to select some and send them over.”
Taikang had been built to the standard of a secondary capital, so a plot of land outside the city was naturally enclosed as an imperial garden. After Wen Yanran arrived, he named it Heyuan.
Wen Yanran had once told Xiao Xichi that she would stay in the south for at least two years. Judging by the following years, that was absolutely true – Wen Yanran, who would be known in history as Emperor Xiaoming of the Great Zhou, remained in the southern secondary capital until the spring of the twelfth year of the Zhaoming era.
From the beginning of the seventh year of the Zhaoming era to March of the twelfth year – about five years in total – Wen Yanran spent only seven months in Jianping.
With the Emperor personally traveling south, the political center of the court also shifted southward. This directly led to an explosive growth in the populations of Yong Province and Yu Province. Many influential clans voluntarily relocated to these two prefectures, which inevitably led to the encroachment on fertile farmlands and the concealment of registered households. However, because the Emperor herself was present and the City Bureau kept a close watch, such practices were suppressed to the greatest possible extent.
At the same time, considering the aging condition of the original capital, the Emperor also issued a special decree to carry out renovations in Jianping to a certain degree – most notably, the city’s drainage system was completely rebuilt.
Many ministers could not understand why the Emperor insisted on staying in the south. Yet, like the various decrees Wen Yanran had issued before, this decision was later proven to be an act of great foresight.
Before the tenth year of the Zhaoming era, the Great Zhou’s main grain-producing regions were concentrated in the east and north. After the Emperor established the secondary capital in the south, however, the southern region began to catch up rapidly. By now, it had already reached parity with the east, demonstrating enormous developmental potential. It was only a matter of time before it surpassed the north as well.
In truth, provinces such as Yong, Yu, Qing, and Wu had been under Great Zhou rule for centuries. Yet, from beginning to end, they had never been properly developed. It was not that previous generations were unaware that these lands were suitable for rice cultivation – rather, two serious problems had stood in the way. The first was that rice farming relied too heavily on favorable weather; a single drought could wipe out the entire harvest. This problem had now been successfully resolved through the construction of local irrigation systems and the spread of improved rice seeds.
The other issue was the high cost of transportation. The southern roads were inconvenient, so even when grain harvests were abundant, they could not greatly affect the Central Plains. With the opening of the canal, however, this problem was also successfully resolved.
Yet the southward shift of the central government brought not only benefits. With the Emperor long absent from Jianzhou, the Great Zhou’s prestige in the Central Plains region diminished somewhat. Over time, this inevitably led to a certain degree of unrest.
In the twelfth year of the Zhaoming era, the Wuliu tribe, which had long submitted to the Great Zhou, launched a rebellion with the support of the northern state of Luojia. Within the capital of Taikang, ministers began urging the Emperor to return to the capital city and stabilize public sentiment by going back to Jianping.
In truth, ever since the Yan clan rebellion, the Wuliu tribe had behaved with unusual obedience. The court, hoping to use them as a buffer for border conflicts, had always treated them favorably and allowed them to trade with Dingyi. However, in February of that year, the chieftain of the Wuliu tribe seized the moment when the Great Zhou was off guard. He sent many of his tribe’s able-bodied men, who slipped into the city of Linyuan under the guise of trade, and in one swift stroke, they killed the local garrison troops and seized control of the city.
Linyuan was a concrete city. Because it was a trading period, it had considerable grain reserves stored there. Knowing the city’s strong walls and deep moats, the Wuliu tribe resolved to hold out to the end and fight a war of attrition against the Great Zhou.
For the Great Zhou, defeating the Wuliu tribe was not difficult. The main issue was the cost of the war.
The enemy had chosen this moment to strike precisely to affect the spring planting. Coupled with the grain consumption required to mobilize troops, as well as post-war compensation and rewards, the expenses would be enormous. In comparison, simply buying them off with some compensation and rewards would actually be cheaper.
Zhong Zhiwei was the commanding general of the Dingyi border camp. After learning of the situation, she did not engage in any pretense with the Wuliu tribe. Instead, she immediately submitted a memorial to the court, while simultaneously deploying troops and making preparations for war.
Ever since the Emperor ascended the throne, a relay post system had been established across the land, and canals had been dug connecting the Central Plains to the south. After the incident in Dingyi, news reached Taikang in just seven and a half days. Another twenty-four days later, the envoy dispatched from Taikang, traveling by canal and then overland, successfully arrived at the border.
“General Zhong.”
To call the border camp’s commanding general “General” was somewhat exaggerated for most, but in Zhong Zhiwei’s case, it was actually far too modest. Everyone knew that as early as when the Emperor personally led the campaign against the Western Tribes, Zhong Zhiwei had already been the Rear Army General bestowed with the authority of the ceremonial tally. Now, she had even requested, while holding the position of Minister of War, to be reassigned to the border.
At first, some suspected that Zhong Zhiwei had been sent there because the Emperor was subtly distancing herself from her. But after she took up her post, people gradually realized that the truth was the complete opposite of their speculation. Whenever correspondence arrived from the central court, the Emperor would always send something along for Zhong Zhiwei – clearly holding the renowned general, who had saved her life on multiple occasions, in great esteem.
Zhong Zhiwei rose to her feet. “Has the envoy from Taikang arrived? Quickly, invite them in.”
Everything in the military camp was kept simple. Before long, Zhong Zhiwei met someone she had crossed paths with several times before.
This person was named Yang Dongxi. She was one of the young up-and-comers who had emerged during the eastern pacification campaigns. Later, she was transferred to the central camp as a colonel, and in recent years, she had been assigned to serve as an official in the Ministry of War.
“Was the journey smooth?”
Yang Dongxi replied, “A few minor disturbances, hardly worth mentioning. Someone spent a great sum to hire assassins, intending to intercept and kill us along the way.”
Zhong Zhiwei asked, “Intercept you along the way?”
Outsiders were easily noticed when entering the Central Plains. Those capable of hiring assassins for such a task were most likely locals.
Yang Dongxi explained, “The mastermind behind the plot is named Yan Shouping, a renowned scholar from the eastern region.”
Yan Shouping was also a villain mentioned in the comment section. However, although Wen Yanran had learned some truths about the game from screenshots back then, Yan Shouping himself had too low a profile and had not been within the scope of those screenshots.
Yang Dongxi continued, “Yan Shouping bribed a famous wandering knight named Liang Zhang to assassinate the envoy from Jianping.”
Although Zhong Zhiwei did not know that in certain branching storylines, Yang Dongxi would also become a highly renowned assassin, she was well aware that her family had many wandering knights and that she herself was exceptionally skilled in martial arts – a rare talent. The Emperor had sent Yang Dongxi as the deputy envoy precisely so she could protect the primary envoy. She chuckled and said, “Since you have arrived, Yan Shouping naturally had no chance of success.”
Yang Dongxi said truthfully, “Even without me, Yan Shouping would not have succeeded.”
Yan Shouping’s judgment was not actually poor. The wandering knight he found was not only highly skilled but also a man of his word, held in high regard among the common people. In principle, even if he had refused the job, he would not have betrayed his employer. However, back when Wen Yanran had been single-mindedly striving to become a “tyrannical ruler,” he had left behind a good number of troublemakers. Among them was a certain colonel named Zhang Liang, who had once committed an assassination. After leaving service, he changed his alias to Liang Zhang, outwardly becoming a famous wandering knight while secretly making periodic rounds near the Emperor’s location to perform some voluntary “cleaning” work.
Zhang Liang uncovered Yan Shouping’s plan and unceremoniously accepted the payment. He bided his time until the moment was right, then tied up Yan Shouping and his trusted followers, delivered them along with the heavy bribe money to Yang Dongxi, and then left on his own. At the same time, he put out a message, asking those with ulterior motives lurking in the shadows whether they knew just how many people like him there were in the realm.
In the Great Zhou, no matter how renowned a wandering knight might be, they were never part of the mainstream. On the contrary, because they took the law into their own hands through force, they were widely ostracized by the people of the time. The reason Xuanyangzi had been able to rise to prominence back in the day was largely because he had won the hearts of such people. Although Yan Shouping’s remaining followers wanted to exploit this very fact to stir up trouble, after hearing Zhang Liang’s words, they did not know where to even begin.
True, there were many who had received favors from men like Yan Shouping – but were there not far more who had received the Emperor’s grace?
When the retainers in Yan Shouping’s household wanted to avenge him, and learned that their master had plotted to assassinate the Emperor’s envoy, they immediately abandoned their original plans and left weeping bitterly. Many of them had originally been commoners, able to study and become literate only thanks to the village schools. That was how they had gained the opportunity to enter the service of a renowned scholar like Yan Shouping. Had Yan Shouping committed any other crime, they would have gladly died to repay him. But to assassinate the Emperor’s envoy – that was something they could never obey.
As Yan Shouping stood at the moment of his beheading – a renowned scholar of the eastern region – he finally began to understand, just a little, why it was that in this realm, no matter what kind of person one was, they were all willing to lay down their lives for the current emperor.
After listening to Yang Dongxi’s report, Zhong Zhiwei gave a slight nod and said to the young man from the Song family, “The envoy has traveled far and must be weary. May I ask what Her Majesty’s instructions are?”
The young man surnamed Song replied, “Her Majesty says: General Zhong has long been stationed in Dingyi and is entrusted with full authority over matters here.”
For a minister, deeply contemplating the meaning behind the Emperor’s commands was an unavoidable daily task. The young man from the Song family had also interpreted the Emperor’s intent in his own mind – the Emperor was widely recognized as someone skilled in military affairs, capable of strategizing victory from a thousand miles away. That he now entrusted all matters of Dingyi entirely to General Zhong naturally meant that he held General Zhong in the highest esteem.
Ever since Wen Yanran achieved the [When Dreams Illuminate Reality] achievement, she had gradually come to understand many previous misunderstandings. However, when it came to the misconceptions her ministers had about her personal abilities, she would likely never have a day in her life when she could fully clear them up…
The young man surnamed Song continued, “In addition to us, Her Majesty has also sent some students.”
Those students had originally been studying in the city of Taikang. Because Taikang was a secondary capital, all its facilities had been built following the old precedents of Jianping, so naturally it should also have an Imperial Academy. However, the ministers strongly objected, arguing that there could not be two Imperial Academies. They debated for months, and when they finally asked the Emperor to make a decision, the opinion they received was to call the school in Taikang “Imperial Academy Number Two” to distinguish primary from secondary. As soon as they said this, the Emperor was immediately met with united resistance from ministers who had originally been split into two opposing camps. In the end, the authority to name the school was transferred to Grand Tutor Yuan, and the Emperor, for once, rarely followed his advice, naming the school the Southern Branch of the Imperial Academy, abbreviated as the Southern School.
When this news reached Dingyi, Zhong Zhiwei felt that there must truly have been no major affairs at court in recent years, for the ministers to have so much leisure to haggle over such trivial details.
The young man surnamed Song continued, “The students being sent to Dingyi now all belong to the newly established Department of Pharmacy. They are called ‘medicine scholars’.”
Zhong Zhiwei had heard of the “medicine scholars.” She knew that many censors had submitted repeated memorials to the Emperor on the matter, arguing that the Emperor could not – or at the very least, should not – so openly indulge in various forms of alchemy and divination, nor allow those of such heterodox paths to stand alongside scholars studying the classics within the Imperial Academy. However, considering that the Jingyuan workshop had indeed produced quite a few useful things, their stance was never particularly firm.
Thanks to the Emperor’s persistence, several new specializations were added to the Southern School. Besides the medicine scholars, there were also “elixir scholars”, who, as the name suggests, were primarily responsible for matters related to alchemy and pill-making.
Zhong Zhiwei recalled that the Emperor had once refined Liu Pill and Muzhong Pill, and that she also placed great importance on the Imperial Medical Bureau. She reasoned that the Emperor was likely concerned about heavy casualties at the Dingyi border camp, and had therefore specially sent these people to tend to the wounded.
There were dozens of students who had been sent over. The one at the front wore a gray-white cotton jacket fashionable in Taikang. He bowed to Zhong Zhiwei and said, “We are all medicine scholars from the Southern School. By the Emperor’s decree, we have come to Dingyi and wish to serve the general.”
Zhong Zhiwei noticed that when this student walked, his legs and feet were somewhat unsteady.
Sound limbs and proper appearance had long been an almost insurmountable requirement for the selection of officials in the Great Zhou. However, with the establishment of the Pharmacy and Elixir departments, those with sharp minds but less than robust physiques now had another path upward.
Zhong Zhiwei initially planned to assign these people to handle logistics and the treatment of wounded soldiers. However, after hearing this, the medicine scholars shook their heads. “To be honest, we are not skilled in medicine.”
“If you are not skilled in medicine, then what you are skilled in – is it the management of medicinal supplies?”
The medicine scholar smiled. “What you say is close, though not exactly accurate.”
Zhong Zhiwei did not quite understand what he meant, but it took only a few days for her to grasp the reason.
When the medicine scholars arrived, they also brought with them a batch of special materials. In strict secrecy, they further processed these materials. The final result was that, on a clear, windless, rainless day, the rebel forces of the Wuliu tribe heard a series of deafening explosions – loud enough to shatter their hearts.
According to later historical research, this was the first time gunpowder was used in actual combat.
Naming the discipline that studies explosives the “Department of Pharmacy” – the Xiaoming Emperor of the Great Zhou clearly had a sense of humor.
During the Zhaoming era, many textbooks for medicine scholars contained the line: “One part sulfur, two parts saltpeter, three parts charcoal – add a little sugar, and you get Da Yi Wan.” However, neither contemporaries nor later generations could fully understand the meaning of the last three characters. The most authoritative interpretation was that “Da Yi Wan” was a phonetic transliteration from a southern dialect, meaning “a powerful explosion.”
Some palace attendants had once heard the Emperor explain the origin of gunpowder. Apparently, it came about because she had mistaken a certain goal. Otherwise, black powder could have been introduced as early as the first year of the Zhaoming era.
No one knew that the “goal” Wen Yanran referred to was the shift between being a tyrannical ruler and a benevolent one. What she actually meant was: “If I hadn’t intended to play the role of a tyrannical ruler, I could have handcrafted black powder right after I first transmigrated.” Most people believed that for an emperor who, aside from governing the state, was also particularly passionate about scientific research, taking a few detours was inevitable. Fortunately, in the end, her various attempts were remarkably successful.
