[Server Chat Log]
BearerOfRuin: The Tang dynasty really does make it obvious that life had improved—its military generals were practically all late bloomers.
The Twenty-Four Meritorious Officials of Lingyan Pavilion had an average age of sixty-five—are you kidding me? But, compared to the Han dynasty, where people dropped dead at the slightest provocation, the Tang can only be said to have reached normal human lifespan standards.
Oath of Ash: The civil and military officials of the Li Tang mostly lived long lives, yet it was precisely Li Shimin's own branch of the family that had genetic issues—just like the Cao clan.
But it's not the same. The Cao family's genes were ruined by Lady Bian, while the Li family's genes were probably optimized by Wu Zetian.
Li Yuan lived to sixty-nine, Li Shimin to fifty-one, Li Zhi to fifty-six, Wu Zetian to eighty-two, Li Longji to seventy-seven.
Li Zhi developed rheumatism in 660, just like Erfeng, and it only got worse—this was how Wu Zetian gradually took power. If his health had been better, the Tang dynasty's trajectory might truly have been different.
Fatebound: Putting it that way, I just remembered—Li Longji was famously handsome in his youth. I really envy Wu Zetian's genes: long-lived and good-looking.
Honestly, if Xuanzong and Gaozong could have swapped places—one living longer, the other dying earlier—history would have gone in a completely different direction.
OldBanner: Speaking of which, Li Zhi's biggest problem was growing up deep in the inner palace, which ruined his strategic military vision. The most typical example was spending thirteen years fighting Goguryeo to the death, while completely ignoring Tibet, the threat at his very elbow. In the end, he was adept at power politics but failed the larger picture, becoming a famously scheming emperor.
Gaozong's overall ability, though… one can only say that if he'd had a better body, things might have been better. Still, his weakening of the great aristocratic clans was indeed skillful.
Illness really does affect mental health—this is true. For instance, Li Zhi's health declined starting in 660, and by 661 he was shouting about personally campaigning against Goguryeo like his father.
Luckily, he didn't go. If he had, Goguryeo would've laughed itself to death: "Three Central Plains emperors and you still can't destroy me!"
Anyway, Goguryeo eventually merged into Huaxia. Let's look instead toward the distant Little Japan, folks.
Ganlu Hall
After copying down the final sentence, Du Ruhui stepped forward holding a small box he had prepared earlier. He placed it beneath the projection and watched as it slowly vanished, only then returning to his place.
Upon seeing the later Song emperor's evaluation, Li Shimin flared up:
"I never even went to perform the Fengshan rites at Mount Tai—how can I be said to crave empty fame?"
But when he saw the next line—worthy indeed of Wanyan Gou—his anger instantly subsided:
"The judgments of a dim-witted tyrant are not worth a sneer."
So that's who it was—one of those infamous benighted emperors obsessed over by later generations. In that case, nothing more needed to be said.
Li Shimin no longer clearly remembered the earlier assessments of Zhao Gou, but he distinctly recalled the casual remark made by the luminous screen: Liu Shan far surpassed Emperor Yizong; Yizong was stronger than Wanyan Gou. From the quality of the emperor, the rest could be inferred.
Thus, he had only one thought at the moment: sparing even a single extra glance for such people would count as a loss for him, the Emperor of Ten Thousand Ages.
Turning his gaze elsewhere, and seeing that the officials of Lingyan Pavilion all lived into their sixties and beyond, Li Shimin felt rather gratified:
"My beloved ministers fought their entire lives to lay the foundations of Tang. It is only right that they should enjoy Tang's blessings as well. This may truly be called a blessing of the state."
He even went over and took Qin Qiong by the hand:
"Shubao must rest and recuperate. Once your health improves, I will still need you to ride west to the Western Regions and tread upon Liaodong. You must not leave behind any lingering ailments."
Qin Qiong laughed heartily—but halfway through, the laughter turned into coughing. Only after it eased did he speak:
"This year, your subject is already fifty-eight. Even if I were to die of illness this very year, without Sun the Medicine King's marvelous arts, the lifespan I've enjoyed would still exceed Your Majesty's."
As he spoke, Qin Qiong patted the back of Li Shimin's hand:
"I beg Your Majesty to cherish yourself."
Li Shimin could only smile bitterly in response—he had long since forgotten the taste of fatty mutton.
Yet seeing the projection mention that Qingzhi too suffered from illness, and then thinking of Empress Zhangsun—who, though currently being treated by Sun the Medicine King, might or might not make it past the tenth year of Zhenguan—his gaze finally landed on Sun Simiao.
Why go to such lengths moving the Imperial Medical Bureau next to the Court of Justice prison? Just expand it in place! Since mathematics must be recalculated and emphasized, medicine must not fall behind either!
And Li Shimin also very much wanted to ask whether there might exist some medicine which, once taken, would allow him to eat fatty mutton and sweet confections without worsening his condition.
If beacon systems could be gradually improved, then methods of healing and medicines should surely be the same, should they not?
Sun Simiao eyed His Majesty's blazing gaze with some suspicion, assuming he was concerned for the Duke of Yi's health. Stroking his beard, he said:
"The Duke of Yi need only rest quietly and replenish what has been depleted. He must not overtax his mind or body. After half a year of recuperation, there will naturally be improvement."
Qin Qiong nodded gratefully. Li Shimin, meanwhile, let out a quiet chuckle, already planning to privately seek out Sun Simiao later to state his true request.
…
In the Imperial Garden of Bianjing, Zhao Kuangyi's expression was somewhat complex:
"Elder Brother—how long have you been watching this thing?"
At first, he had thought it merely an immortal from the heavens telling stories. But later, seeing those strange and eerie beacon devices, he was no longer certain.
And when the discussion turned to bows and crossbows—mentioning the Song dynasty several times—the faint undertone of disdain was unmistakable.
Only when the drifting text appeared later did a bold speculation arise in Zhao Kuangyi's mind:
Could this be an immortal who knows the future? After all, Zhao Gou belonged to the Song, and Qin Hui addressed Zhao Gou as "Your Majesty." Putting it together, it seemed to point to their newly founded Zhao Song.
Zhao Kuangyin's face flushed slightly—one could tell even without thinking that "Wanyan Gou" was hardly a complimentary appellation. Still, with his dark complexion, it was not obvious:
"Heaven's revelation has bestowed blessings more than once already."
"Then congratulations are in order, Elder Brother."
Zhao Kuangyi's expression remained calm as he brushed aside the mocking appraisal of Wanyan Gou.
Yet in his heart, a decision was slowly being forged. His brother's descendants… seemed rather unimpressive.
If that were the case, could it be that this heavenly revelation was also dissatisfied with his brother's successors? If so, then wouldn't that mean—
Beneath his placid exterior, Zhao Kuangyi could clearly feel his heart pounding wildly.
A trace of mockery flashed across the corner of his mouth before vanishing. Lowering his head, he said:
"Your younger brother will certainly assist Elder Brother in accomplishing great deeds, and will not fail Heaven's trust."
Only then did Zhao Kuangyin smile, warmly patting his blood brother's arm:
"Come, come—let us watch the display of curiosities from the former dynasties."
[Lightscreen]
[A quick update for everyone: your uploader will be leaving Sichuan soon. After several months, I've had my fill of traveling—and today, as usual, it's time for an unboxing.
This time, there's no need for laborious explanations, because both items are iconic objects of their respective dynasties—instantly recognizable.
Ta-da! Please enjoy: the pinnacle of Han dynasty ironworking, the eight-faceted jade-mounted Han sword; and the standard coinage whose design was inherited for thirteen hundred years, the exemplar of treasure coins—the Kaiyuan Tongbao.
As before, several close-up images appeared. First came a precious sword displayed with its scabbard set aside.
The blade gleamed with cold light. The guard was made of pure jade, while the hilt was wrapped in hemp cord and leather—soft to the grip, and clearly excellent at preventing slippage.
The pommel at the end of the hilt was likewise jade, carved with grooves and patterns.
The wooden scabbard was decorated with vermilion lacquer and patterns. Its upper half bore a jade sword slide (jianzhui, a belt suspension fitting), while the tip was adorned with a triangular jade chape (jianbi).
The other item was far simpler: ten round coins with square holes, golden in color, bearing the four characters Kaiyuan Tongbao.
Here's a not-so-cold bit of trivia: Kaiyuan Tongbao was minted when the Tang was founded, under Li Yuan. During the Zhenguan era, what circulated was still Kaiyuan Tongbao.
Now for a truly cold bit of trivia: there was no such thing as Zhenguan Tongbao in antiquity—but there was something called Zhenguan treasure coins, minted when Li Qianshun ruled Western Xia. The inscriptions were in Tangut script, which makes them hard to recognize.
Speaking of which, Western Xia can be traced back to the Tang. Remember when Li Jing destroyed Tuyuhun and Li Daoyan suddenly attacked the Dangxiang people? Their leader at the time, Tuoba Chici, is considered Western Xia's earliest clearly traceable ancestor. After being subdued, he submitted to Tang and was granted the surname Li. After the An Lushan Rebellion, Guo Ziyi suggested relocating the Dangxiang people en masse to Xia Prefecture to guard against the Turks—hence they were also called the Pingxia Tribe.
Got it—Tang orthodoxy was in Western Xia. Not only did the state name come from Tang's Xia Prefecture, even the royal surname was bestowed by Li Shimin.
But what I really care about is—how much is this golden Kaiyuan Tongbao worth?
Seriously speaking, it's priceless. Unlike gold Wuzhu coins, gold Kaiyuan coins did not circulate in the Tang. They were basically special reward money bestowed by the emperor upon meritorious officials.
As far as records go, the only documented instance was in the first year of Xuanzong's Kaiyuan era, when gold coins were scattered at Chengtian Gate in celebration. Only officials of the third rank and above were eligible to pick them up. Fewer than thirty gold Kaiyuan coins survive today. If these ten of mine were real… conservatively speaking, I'd be squatting in a cell for life, eating prison meals forever.
By the way, does the blade of this Han sword seem to have characters on it?
I enlarged the image—it reads Wen Mang, not Zhang Yu. It lacks spirit, but credit where it's due: they used a lot of jade ornaments. The restoration was done with real care.
This is the standard appearance of a Han dynasty precious sword. The Han inherited the Spring and Autumn, Warring States, and Qin traditions, preserving a reverence for jade. The "treasure" in a treasure sword lies precisely in its jade fittings.
These days, though, there probably aren't any truly authentic eight-faceted Han swords left. Hundred-fold refined steel is simply too troublesome to make, with a high failure rate. For those livestream workshop operations, it's much easier to use cast steel or just buy steel stock and machine it directly.
In the history of our ancestors' ironworking, the Han dynasty truly was the big brother. While hundred-fold refined steel flourished, methods like cast steel and fining steel were also invented. The mixed-smelting cast steel method was used all the way into the Qing, and the fining process—melting iron into liquid and repeatedly stirring it in the furnace—was still in use even after the founding of our nation.
If I remember correctly, the development of cast steel was also related to climate change. During the Song dynasty, the capital was particularly cold, and the large population led to charcoal shortages. Coal mining for heating was vigorously promoted, and coal in turn drove advances in iron smelting technology.
Indeed, the transmission of ancient Chinese technology was essentially a relay race across generations. Many inventions were constrained by their times, only to truly shine when the moment was right.]
Chengdu
"Stone coal… no—using the later generations' term, coal."
Liu Bei set aside this minor quibble, his mood brightening considerably:
"Fortunately, thanks to Kongming's persistence, we need not worry about coal usage for the time being."
Whether in Jingzhou or Yizhou, winters were cold but far from bitter. Thus, even knowing coal's advantages several years earlier, there had been little urgency to study it.
It was only due to Kongming's repeated insistence that the coal fields south of Jiangzhou were opened.
Now that coal was being supplied steadily, it had smoothly become an integral part of Jingzhou and Yizhou's stable operations.
A letter had also arrived from Xu Shu in Jingzhou, stating that Jiang Wan had purchased dozens of shiploads of coal briquettes at low prices even before the war. These had now all been distributed throughout northern Jingzhou, allowing people long ravaged by warfare to pass the winter in peace.
"The operation of the coal fields relies entirely on Cheng Ji's efforts. Liang dares not claim the credit."
What Zhuge Liang valued more, however, were those few brief words:
"Mixed smelting of raw and refined—there is a method to steelmaking."