Before today, Li Shimin had never felt particularly fond of Wei Zheng.
If one spoke of talent, which civil or military figure in the Qin Prince's former household was not a once-in-a-generation prodigy?
Yet in just this single morning of watching the light-screen, Li Shimin had come to realize that Wei Zheng was… genuinely interesting.
At the very least, when it came to scolding people, there was no one in the Ganlu Hall who could match him.
Watching Wei Zheng casually tear into Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang was an absolute delight.
Li Shimin even felt a small pang of regret. He should have brought Wei Zheng along much sooner.
As for those later rulers, the so-called Little Taizong, incompetent Yizong, and pathetic Xizong? Li Shimin could not even bring himself to speak their names aloud.
If he were certain his ministers would not object, he would have erected a tablet in the imperial ancestral temple on the spot and posthumously struck those three unfilial descendants from the Li family registry.
Losing territory.
Breaking the hearts of their subjects. Squandering the nation's strength.
How did they even have the nerve to call themselves rulers of the Great Tang?
Li Shimin understood perfectly well what drove Wei Zheng's sharp tongue.
The Mencius had laid it out plainly. When a ruler treats his subjects as his own hands and feet, the subjects treat the ruler as their heart and soul.
When a ruler treats his subjects as dirt, the subjects in turn treat the ruler as an enemy.
Letting that thought settle, Li Shimin reached out and gently patted the back of Wei Zheng's hand to show his appreciation.
"Minister Wei, you are truly the hands and feet of my empire."
A surge of warmth spread through Li Shimin's chest. Setting aside whatever the later generations had done, the bond between ruler and ministers in the Zhenguan era was genuine.
His ministers were his right hands, the very men who had helped him lay the foundation of the Great Tang, and their statues would be worshipped for a thousand years to come.
Li Shimin felt a sudden and burning curiosity. He wanted to see the nightlife of the future Chang'an.
The Light Screen would surely show his Zhenguan ministers as well, not just himself and his famous generals.
If he could just see the list of names, wouldn't it be as simple as going down the roster and inviting them into his service?
[Lightscreen]
[Aside from posthumous titles and temple names, there is another imperial tradition that has rotted away to nothing. The grand Fengshan ceremony.
Across the whole sweep of Chinese history, a total of seven emperors held the grand Fengshan ceremony.
Here, however, we will mostly talk about the six performed on Mount Tai. The count is fairly easy since only a handful of men ever actually made the journey.
First, we have the First Emperor, Qin Shi Huang. He is the undisputed GOAT of this tradition.
He engraved the stones and named the pines. His vision of unifying the script, the roads, and the currency was so far ahead of its time that it still impacts us today.
He was the man who completed the great unification; he didn't even need a posthumous title or a temple name to prove he was the boss.
He was the one who set the gold standard for what an emperor should be
Then there is Emperor Wu of Han, Liu Che. He climbed Mount Tai eight times, and honestly, he earned it. He opened the Silk Road, separated the Qiang and the Hu, centralized the government, and gave the Xiongnu a thrashing they would never forget until they didn't know which way was north.
These are achievements that will blaze through the ages.
He was the emperor who could look the leader of the Xiongnu dead in the eye and say: if the Xiongnu want to fight, the Emperor will be waiting on the border. If you have no stomach for battle, come and kneel.
If you compare China to a machine, Qin Shi Huang built the hardware. Emperor Wu of Han installed the software.
That is the only reason the machine is still running today. Some people argue that Liu Che's reputation would have shone brighter if he had died five or ten years earlier. Fair enough.
But he did something incredibly rare in history. In his final years, he recognized his own mistakes and reversed the entire course of the empire with the Luntai Edict.
That alone puts him far above an emperor who needed to die twenty years earlier just to salvage what was left of his name. Right, Xuanzong?
We will not spend too much time on Emperor Guangwu of Han. His martial achievements could never match those of Emperor Wu, the fact that he was able to dig the Han Dynasty out of the grave and restore it is impressive enough
Emperor Gaozong of Tang took over the ceremonies his father had begun, but he also managed to crush Goguryeo and leave behind a foundation solid enough for Xuanzong's Kaiyuan Era to rise on.
We do not need to linger on Xuanzong either. If he had died twenty years earlier, his place in history would have stood shoulder to shoulder with the Taizong. That alone tells you his early Fengshan ceremony was at least up to standard.
But the man who truly ruined the brand? The one who turned the most sacred imperial ritual into a laughingstock? That would be Emperor Zhenzong of the Song Dynasty. The guy who signed the Treaty of Chanyuan.
While Zhao Heng occupied the throne, Empress Dowager Xiao of the Liao led her army south. The Song court fell into a blind panic. A high-ranking official named Wang Qinruo was so terrified he nearly ruined his silk trousers on the spot. He produced a "brilliant" suggestion. "Let us simply pack up and move the capital to Nanjing."
Another official, Chen Yaosuo, disagreed. "No," he said. "We should follow the Tang example and move the capital to Chengdu."
Here is the funfact: Wang Qinruo was from Nanjing. Chen Yaosuo was from Chengdu. These geniuses were not trying to save the empire. They were worried about their own property values back home.
Thankfully, the Prime Minister, Kou Zhun, was having none of it.
He roared that anyone who so much as mentioned moving the capital should be dragged out and executed.
He practically bullied Emperor Zhao Heng into leading the army personally. And the move actually worked. Song morale surged high enough to fight the Liao to a standstill.
In the end, they signed the Treaty of Chanyuan. They agreed to be "brotherly states," but there was a catch.
The Song had to unconditionally pay the Liao one hundred thousand taels of silver and two hundred thousand bolts of silk every single year just to keep them from attacking. In short, they paid for a subscription to Not Being Invaded.
Zhao Heng, however, was incredibly proud of himself. In his own mind, he was a warrior king. He pictured himself in heavy iron armor, a fierce tiger who had saved the nation from certain doom. He felt like a hero.
Then Wang Qinruo slithered back into the picture. He leaned in close and whispered into the Emperor's ear. "Actually, Your Majesty, that treaty is a massive humiliation. Kou Zhun is the villain who forced you to sign it. You should get rid of him."
Zhao Heng turned the idea over and decided Wang Qinruo was right. He shoved Kou Zhun aside and asked Wang how he could wash away the "shame" of the treaty.
Wang Qinruo smiled and offered him two choices:
One: personally lead an army to reclaim the lost territories. Or two: hold a Fengshan ceremony on Mount Tai to show the realm how virtuous and blessed Your Majesty truly is.
Zhao Heng looked at the first option. He thought about the Liao soldiers. He developed a sudden and crippling case of cold feet. To the surprise of absolutely no one, he picked the second option. And with that, the grand circus began.
Fake divine books "fell from the heavens" to praise the Emperor's boundless wisdom. Gods supposedly appeared in dreams to fix a date on Mount Tai.
The officials cheered and showered each other with congratulations while the common people watched the whole performance with dead and hollow eyes.
The ceremony drained eight million strings of coins from the treasury. A fortune spent to parade the "majesty" of the Song, all while the annual tribute flowed steadily into enemy hands.
The History of the Song summed it up with brutal precision. "The ruler and his ministers conducted themselves as though they were clinically insane."
If this emperor made any contribution to history, it was this. He made the Fengshan ceremony so deeply embarrassing, so utterly cringe-inducing, that no future emperor ever wanted to touch it again. With his own two hands, he saved the taxpayers of every dynasty that followed from funding another vanity trip up a mountain.]
"Zhinü actually managed to destroy Goguryeo?"
Remembering that the future nations had painted his own image as a one-eyed barbarian, Li Shimin finally felt a small lift in his chest. His eyebrows rose, a faint sign that his mood had improved, if only by a fraction.
Zhangsun Wuji pounced on the opening. "The pacification of Goguryeo was entirely due to Your Majesty's glorious leadership."
"But there are still people on that peninsula. They were not wiped out completely. How can you call that a true pacification?" Li Shimin shot back. He had not forgotten a single detail from the Light Screen.
Zhangsun Wuji found himself completely at a loss for words. How was I supposed to know that?
Deep down, he felt a twinge of injustice. Why are those foreign nations so troublesome? If I ever get the chance, I will follow His Majesty into battle and do my part.
Setting the matter aside, Li Shimin felt his earlier opinion of the Song Dynasty had been far too generous.
"To boast of a treaty signed beneath the city walls. To hold a Fengshan ceremony while enemy boots still stood on their own soil. They paid annual tribute and felt not a trace of shame. They drained the common people's resources just to cover their own ears while stealing the bell. What kind of majesty is that supposed to be?"
Li Shimin shook his head in open disgust.
"The history of the Song Dynasty is laid bare. An incompetent ruler. Officials scheming in the shadows. How could a dynasty like that limp along for hundreds of years? It defies all understanding."
Du Ruhui recalled an earlier quip from the Light Screen. "Walking around with his pants down while pushing a millstone?"
Li Shimin paused. Then he burst into full and hearty laughter.
Hou Junji and Yuchi Jingde did not catch the joke at first. Zhangsun Wuji leaned over and explained it, and even a stone-faced general like Yuchi Jingde managed to work out a thin smile.
When the laughter faded, the mood curdled into frustration.
"The Liao army was led by their Empress Dowager," Du Ruhui said, his brow furrowing. "That alone tells you there was unrest gnawing at their own ranks. The Song forces had only to hold out behind their walls. Given more time, the Liao army would have collapsed on its own. And instead, they signed a treaty of brotherhood."
Fang Xuanling hesitated. "Reading the words and deeds of their Prime Minister, he seemed like a man of iron resolve. If the Prime Minister had truly opposed the treaty, it would never have been signed. Perhaps the gap between Song and Liao was simply too wide to bridge?"
"What kind of brotherhood comes with an annual tribute attached?" Li Shimin's disgust spilled out unchecked. "They would rather bleed their own people dry to smear the name of Mount Tai than spend a single copper to arm their soldiers and wash away the disgrace. I am ashamed to share a history with them."
Wei Zheng stepped forward with a protest of his own. "Your Majesty, the Song Dynasty is crawling with such treacherous officials. Your subjects are equally ashamed to share any history with them."
The ministers nodded in full agreement. Even Yuchi Jingde, a man of few words, spoke up.
"If we ever signed such a treaty, I would beg to die on the battlefield first."
Hou Junji added his own voice. "They call it a treaty, but it is an insult dressed in silk. I would sooner fight until every last soldier lay dead."
A wave of comfort settled over Li Shimin. The Great Tang was still the most reliable nation under Heaven.
Why had the Song Dynasty, which bordered the Tang in the long chain of history, failed to absorb a single lesson from the martial spirit of their ancestors?
Even setting aside the early Tang, the late Tang had still produced heroes like Zhang Yichao of the Guiyi Army.
Their gazes drifted back to the emperors of their own dynasty.
Fang Xuanling's expression shifted. Something had clicked into place. "Earlier, the Light Screen mentioned the prosperous era of Taixuan. I could not make sense of it at the time. Now it seems they were speaking of the hundred years of prosperity stretching from Your Majesty's reign all the way to Xuanzong."
The Emperor nodded. The term had lodged itself in his memory. But the recognition only sharpened his curiosity. "What kind of foolish decisions did Xuanzong make to leave later generations wishing he had died twenty years earlier?"
No one in the hall could produce an answer. Du Ruhui let out a quiet sigh. "Perhaps he spent those twenty years personally nurturing An Lushan?"
Even Du Ruhui did not believe his own words.
In the Shu Han camp, Liu Bei felt something crack inside his chest. The sound of his own heart breaking.
As the Emperor of Shu, Liu Bei had always been ambitious. Ever since the Light Screen appeared, he had been quietly hoping he might get the chance to change history and earn himself a legendary posthumous title. Then he heard that even the Xiongnu branch of the Han Dynasty had managed to produce an Emperor Guangwen and an Emperor Zhaowu. If those men could claim such grand titles, surely he could aim for a Zong name too.
But then the screen showed him the truth. In the future, every mediocre ruler got handed a Zong title like a cheap gift. It felt hollow now. And the Cao bandits actually had the nerve to claim three Ancestors in a row?
Liu Bei could not help thinking of his own family. His adopted son was named Liu Feng. His own flesh and blood was named Liu Shan. Feng and Shan. Together, they spelled Fengshan. It had felt like a bold omen.
Then he watched what that Song Emperor Zhao Heng did to the name of Fengshan. A deep despair settled over him.
"The world has so many more people in the future, and yet the martial spirit has decayed to this level? The king and his ministers are so thick-skinned they have lost all sense of dignity as leaders of the Central Plains."
Zhang Fei was more optimistic. "Hey, Big Brother, remember what the screen said? The people of the future still want to be as great as the Han and the Tang. That means no matter how much those future rulers lie, they cannot fool the common people. The ordinary folks still know who the real legends are."
The hall went silent as everyone processed the information.
"Why was the first instinct of the Song officials to run away?" Zhang Song asked, genuinely confused.
"How could a Prime Minister agree to a deal like that?" Liu Ba added. The whole thing felt surreal to him.
"Zhao Heng did not just ruin Mount Tai. He ruined the title of Zhenzong." Fa Zheng sneered. "In that Great Song, the ministers are not real ministers, the king is not a real king, and the country barely qualifies as a country."
Zhao Yun, who rarely spoke, had only one question. "In that entire court, was there not a single general with a backbone?"
Pang Tong let out a mischievous chuckle. "Oh, there were probably plenty. They just were not allowed to have a voice." He glanced toward Kongming as he spoke.
Kongming nodded slowly.
"The mistakes of one dynasty serve as a warning for the next. Gaozu ended the tyranny of Qin. Guangwu took pity on the exhausted people.
The Tang was powerful and martial, but An Lushan was the Emperor's own favorite, given too much power until he tore the world apart.
That explains why someone like Zhang Yichao would be treated with such suspicion later on." He let out a long and heavy sigh.
[Lightscreen]
[After Zhenzong, the only man who arguably had the resume to hold a Fengshan ceremony was Zhu Chongba.
But thanks to the mess Zhenzong left behind, and because the ceremony usually meant handing out massive bonuses to the entire government, Old Zhu was not interested. Zhu Chongba was the ultimate penny-pincher. Did those officials really think they could squeeze money out of him for a party? Keep dreaming.
Besides, Old Zhu started with nothing but a broken bowl and ended up owning the realm. That achievement lands way harder than any tourist trip up a mountain.
So whenever some official floated the idea of a Fengshan ceremony, Zhu Chongba simply left them on read.
Later, the Yongle Emperor, Zhu Di, was also asked to perform the ceremony. He actually gave an answer.
"The realm is still dealing with floods, droughts, and plagues. How can anyone call this a golden age? Besides, my idol Li Shimin never did the ceremony. Who am I to do it?"
The funny thing is, Li Shimin did consider it. His ministers brought it up six times during the Zhenguan era.
The first two proposals came in the fifth year of Zhenguan. The Tujue had just been crushed, and the country was still knitting itself back together. Li Shimin worried about draining the people's resources, so he said no.
The third time came in the sixth year of Zhenguan. He was actually ready to go, but Wei Zheng stopped him. Li Shimin tried to show off a little. "Tell me, do you know who I am? My achievements are towering. My virtue runs deep. The barbarians have submitted. The harvests are bountiful. Lucky omens keep appearing at my doorstep. Why exactly can I not go?"
Wei Zheng, acting as the Emperor's personal reality check, laid out a perfectly logical argument. The costs would eventually be shoved onto the backs of the poor. By coincidence, the Yellow River flooded that very year, and the Emperor called it off.
The fourth proposal arrived in the eleventh year. Even Wei Zheng was on board this time and helped with the preparations. They ran into a technical snag with the ritual procedures and canceled.
The fifth came in the fourteenth year. The rituals were ready. Then the stars shifted. The court astronomers declared it a bad omen for the state, and they canceled again. Li Shimin ended up venting his frustration by destroying the kingdom of Gaochang instead.
The last attempt fell in the twenty-first year. He issued an edict announcing they would definitely go the following year. By August, he canceled once more, citing the mounting construction projects and the floods in Hebei. He had no wish to pile more burdens onto his people.
That is why his son, Li Zhi, later told him, "Do not worry, dad. I will do it for you."
But in truth, Li Shimin probably never cared all that deeply. He had already written lengthy essays measuring himself against men like Qin Shi Huang and Emperor Wen of Han. He knew exactly where he stood.
Wei Zheng captured it best. "A ruler's greatness rests in his virtue, not in a ceremony." That remains the finest footnote to Li Shimin's life.
Well, folks, our happy hour is drawing to a close. In the next episode, we are going to talk about the Great Families.
The title will be: "If You Will Not Give the People Dignity, the People Will Give It to You."]