Zhuge Liang measured his days in heartbeats and brushstrokes. Every breath had its place, every pen stroke served a purpose. Even so, a man of his cunning could still get pulled off track by something perfectly ordinary.
As he walked past a plain woodshed near the County Office, a sharp scent drifted toward him. Incense.
Zhuge Liang slowed his steps. Incense? Here?
Curiosity tugged at his mind. He stepped closer and peered through the narrow crack in the door.
Inside, three boys stood in stiff, solemn formation, their small faces pulled tight with over-the-top seriousness, like they were presiding over the most important event in all under heaven.
"I, Guan Xing!"
"I, Zhang Bao!"
"I, A-Dou!"
Their voices rang out one after another, loud and proud. On top of a chopping block, they had built a makeshift altar, complete with burning incense and a few clumsily stacked fruit offerings. The whole scene was absurdly earnest.
"From this day forth, following the example of our fathers, we bind ourselves as brothers of the spirit. Henceforth..."
Zhuge Liang watched without moving a muscle. By the end of their oath, the corners of his lips had lifted into a helpless, fond smile. The whole thing was so serious, so ceremonious, and so unmistakably childish that no one could watch without feeling amused.
He slipped away before they noticed him. As he walked on, a soft, thoughtful look settled in his eyes. Maybe, when government affairs grew a little lighter, he should spend more time with Yueying. Maybe their household ought to welcome another child too.
With that thought tucked warm in his chest, he continued down the path.
He passed three layers of guards until he reached the most heavily fortified room in the county office. He knocked softly, and the door swung open.
The space inside was less a chamber and more a whole world of invention. Scale models of all sizes crowded one side, while the other was dominated by a hand-operated loom taken apart into scattered wooden components spread across the floor.
Huang Yueying sat right in the middle of it all, completely absorbed in her work. So absorbed, in fact, that she did not even notice him enter.
Zhuge Liang could only smile. Reality had turned the history from the Light Screen completely upside down.
In those future records, he had been the one who worked deep into the night, burning candle after candle. Here, he was the one who left work on time, took leisurely walks after meals, and made sure to spend time with their adopted son Zhuge Qiao and daughter Zhuge Guo.
Yueying, on the other hand, had become the true workaholic of the household. If he did not personally drag her away from her blueprints, she would stay buried in them until dawn.
"Wife," Zhuge Liang said warmly, "the sun is already setting."
Yueying blinked and finally looked up. Only then did she notice the sky outside had washed into soft twilight purple and orange. A faint trace of regret crossed her face.
"I still won't be able to finish it today..."
Even so, she obediently put down her tools. After carefully locking the workshop, she walked home beside him.
"Shiyuan won't be returning next month," Zhuge Liang said, his tone light, followed by a faint laugh. "He claims Jiangzhou is too important for him to leave. He has all but planted his feet in the ground there, so my lord had no choice but to let him stay with Huo Jun to garrison the city."
Yueying shot him a sidelong look, amusement dancing in her eyes. "That is entirely your fault. If you had not shown him that Wuhou Shrine on the Light Screen, would he be this agitated?"
She gave a soft snort. "And Yide keeps provoking him by comparing the titles of Wolong and Fengchu. My lord even jokingly calls me the Female Fengchu in private."
"Shiyuan is not skilled in craftsmanship the way we are," Zhuge Liang said gently. "It is only natural he would feel anxious about the legacy history leaves behind."
By then, they had reached the main street of Gong'an. This was the busiest time of day. Craftsmen had just left the workshops, and vendors on both sides of the street called out louder than usual, eager to catch customers while their purses were still full. The street was lively, warm, brimming with life.
Looking at the bustling scene before her, Yueying felt a deep, soft contentment settle in her chest. She had truly married a man unlike any other in this world.
She turned to look at Zhuge Liang, only to find him gazing up at the sky, lost in thought.
"Wife," he said after a moment, "yesterday I watched Yunchang drilling the naval forces by the river. The warships move by borrowing the wind." He paused. "If a rotary waterwheel can harness the river's current, then why can we not build something that harnesses the wind itself?"
Yueying's mind immediately began racing through countless mechanical possibilities. When she finally spoke, all that complexity melted into simple, warm admiration.
"You truly are extraordinary, husband."
For now, though, such thoughts could wait. The day's work was over.
---
Meanwhile, in another part of Gong'an, Mi Zhu sat in his study staring at a stack of newly delivered Zuo Bo paper. His younger brother Mi Fang had been sent off to General Zhang's camp in Linju for rigorous military training, and the residence had grown noticeably emptier without his loud, brash energy.
The paper itself was of excellent quality. The problem was where it had come from. This batch was produced in Wu.
Mi Zhu's eyes narrowed slightly. He still remembered the strategist's scheme perfectly. To lower Sun Quan and Zhou Gongjin's guard, Zhuge Liang had forged a letter in Mi Fang's handwriting and sent it to Jiangdong. To make it believable, they had deliberately leaked part of the Zuo Bo paper formula as bait. That move had ultimately secured Jiangling for Lord Liu.
Now, looking at the imitation paper produced in Wu, Mi Zhu sank into deep thought.
"What is the current market price?" he asked.
His confidant had clearly prepared the answer in advance. "Wu lacks mulberry trees. Their paper workshops must import mulberry bark from outside. Our papermakers in Gong'an calculated the costs. A single roll over there costs no less than 800 coins."
A faint chill ran down Mi Zhu's spine. Lacks mulberry trees? Was even this tiny detail part of the strategist's plan?
His face stayed calm as he gave his orders. "Do not expand the Jingzhou paper mills. Maintain the current scale exactly." He looked down at the paper in his hands. "The price of Zhuge Paper is to remain exactly the same as Wu's."
After a brief pause, a cold, sharp smile tugged at his lips. "Wait until their paper industry reaches its peak."
After all, Jingzhou held far more than just paper in its hand.
---
Far away in Chang'an, Tang Dynasty, ever since the Light Screen first appeared, Li Shimin had practically moved into Ganlu Hall.
Whenever Du Ruhui or Fang Xuanling entered, they would often find the Son of Heaven pacing barefoot across the floor, his eyes fixed on an enormous silk map spread across the wall.
The map had been redrawn on a much grander scale. Since the Light Screen never clearly marked the borders of that ancient era, Zhangsun Wuji had tactfully replaced the words Great Han with Great Tang. Foreign merchants in Chang'an had quickly sensed the court's growing interest in the Western Regions, and they were more than happy to profit from it.
Thus the map grew more detailed by the day. Loulan, Yutian, Kucha, Wusun, Shule, one name after another pinned onto the vast silk surface. Orders poured out of Chang'an nonstop. Gather shipwrights. Experiment with building ocean-going vessels.
Whenever Du Ruhui looked at the ministers huddled around the map, he often felt they were not merely staring at silk and ink. It was as if their gazes had already crossed mountains and seas to reach those distant lands.
Yet the mundane affairs of state still pressed on.
"Your Majesty, Lu Zushang still refuses the appointment as Governor of Yingzhou."
Li Shimin's expression did not shift. "According to the law, execute him by strangulation." His voice was flat, cold, no room for argument. After delaying for an entire year, Lu Zushang had finally exhausted the Emperor's patience.
Du Ruhui bowed. "As Your Majesty commands."
Later, Fang Xuanling stepped forward. "Your Majesty, the sacrifice at the Circular Altar is scheduled for next month."
At once, Li Shimin's eyes lit up like a child given a new toy. "Can the Light Screen be invited to the ceremony?"
Consequently, during the Grand Sacrifice, officials noticed a rare, solemn intensity burning in the Emperor.
To Li Shimin's great disappointment, though, from the fasting period to the final food offerings, the Light Screen never stirred. No sudden opening, no voice thanking them for gifts as they had seen in Ganlu Hall.
Officials watched helplessly as the Emperor's face shifted from bright expectation to clear disappointment. By the time the offerings concluded, impatience was already settling over his features. He dismissed the feast early and returned straight to the palace. Even Wei Zheng later cornered Du Ruhui to ask what had happened, but Du Ruhui said nothing.
After the sacrifice, the countdown to the New Year began in earnest. Both officials and the Emperor grew busier by the day. Ministers scrambled to clear their desks so they would not have to work during the 10-day holiday. The Emperor, meanwhile, stole every spare moment to spend with Empress Zhangsun.
Li Shimin calculated that the upcoming 10-day festival might be the busiest stretch of his life. On New Year's morning, attendants woke him before dawn. The Great Court Assembly was destined to drag on for hours.
Civil and military officials, regional envoys, and foreign emissaries all presented treasures. Imperial rewards were granted in return. Memorials were read, auspicious omens recorded, tributes catalogued, astronomical reports delivered.
Afterward came the Grand Display. Rare ritual vessels and national treasures were laid out in full view, a show of Great Tang's majesty and power. Yet among all the glittering gold and jade, something strange stood at the very end.
A single book.
Protocol kept everyone from getting close enough to read it, but from a distance it looked like a plain thread-bound volume. Was it a war manual? A Confucian classic? A treatise on agriculture? A record of foreign lands? Speculation spread fast among the gathered officials and envoys. Only Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui had their faces twitch with faint amusement. His Majesty was being a little too bold.
That evening, in Ganlu Hall, Li Shimin responded to their unspoken concerns with perfect confidence.
"Does this book not qualify as a treasure of the state?"
The two ministers exchanged glances, then both nodded. "The knowledge within the Light Screen encompasses all under heaven. At times, even a single line is enough to awaken a person from years of slumber."
Li Shimin smiled immediately. "Then it stays." He lifted his chin, proud as a boy showing off his favorite toy. "All the so-called auspicious omens presented by the various states today are not worth even one ten-thousandth of what the Light Screen has shown us."
He added, "Tomorrow, invite Li Jing. Yaoshi has always admired Marquis Wu, Zhuge Kongming. Seeing the records of the Northern Expeditions from Mount Qi will surely delight him."
The two ministers bowed in agreement.
---
Meanwhile, in Gong'an, late April.
Liu Bei pushed open the side hall door, travel-worn from his long river journey. His civil and military officials were already waiting inside. After draining a large cup of tea in one go, he finally spoke, his voice heavy.
"Ma Chao has finally rebelled against Cao Cao."
"The day of Ma Teng's death is near."
Zhang Fei, long tired of hearing his elder brother worry over the matter, finally spoke up, his voice rough and blunt.
"Big Brother."
"Why are you carrying someone else's coffin into our own house just to mourn?"
"A man like Ma Chao... did you truly believe a single letter from you could stop him?"