Zhao Kuangyin's thoughts drifted far away for a moment.
To this day, he still clearly remembered that morning. He had planned to bring his slingshot to go shoot birds for fun, but instead he was startled by the strange phenomenon on that stone table.
To be honest, his first reaction back then was naturally wild joy.
He had read many stories of immortals descending to the mortal world to grant secret guidance, but he also knew very well how much of that kind of story deserved a big question mark.
Unfortunately, that burst of joy was quickly wiped clean.
There was no foundation for unifying the realm. There was no law to secure ten thousand generations.
He even tried to negotiate, asking to borrow a hundred divine strongmen, but there was no response at all. Over and over, it only talked about the old clichés of the An Lushan Rebellion. Who didn't know those old stories already?
But slowly, from the occasional scraps and fragments, he began to roughly understand what happened after his time. Now, with disasters and foreign enemies placed one after another before his eyes, a question slowly rose from the bottom of his heart.
How did he die?
No one knew his physical condition better than he did. He had even estimated it himself. Even if he suddenly fell ill, he should still have been able to grit his teeth and suppress Liao. Why then…
Zhao Guangyi blinked and his gaze met Zhao Pu's for an instant before separating.
It looked like his elder brother knew something but did not want to say it. But Zhao Pu, who had suddenly been summoned back and showered with favor, might know more than he himself did.
…
"I was just about to ask."
Ma Chao scratched his cheek. Even though he tried to suppress his smile, it had very little effect. Instead, he looked like he was baring his teeth, full of an indescribable kind of cheer.
There was no helping it. Ma Chao was very clear about the level of the generals under their lord.
Guan Yunchang guarding Jing Province was enough to pin down Cao's forces even though they held the Central Plains.
As for General Zilong, he had a great reputation among the people and terrifying might in the army.
The surprise strike in the Wei River Valley settled everything in one blow. Circling Jieting to take Chencang could be called lightning fast. Later, transferring to Jing Province to support Jiangling and so on, Ma Chao could only watch from the sidelines.
After all, all his troops were Qiang cavalry. In Yong and Liang, his Brocade Horse Ma Chao reputation could suppress everything by sheer fame. But once he left Yong and Liang, that was another matter. And yet the hometown of such a fierce cavalry commander actually worshiped Ma Chao as a god?
As for being a door god, he did not really care. After all, the lord had mentioned that "killing father" matter to him in passing.
He had thought his reputation would be ruined or cursed for a thousand years. He never expected there to be such twists and turns.
Grabbing his short beard and forcing down the corners of his constantly rising mouth, Ma Chao hissed lightly and voiced his doubt.
"Why is it that in this Song southern and northern capital, they all need fallen men to be remembered? When the country suffers great disaster and loses battle after battle, the people not only do not curse foreign generals, but instead worship them as gods."
"Foreign enemies are watching. It should be the perfect time to win fame on horseback."
"Does this Song have no good men?"
Liu Bei and Kongming exchanged a glance and both shook their heads.
In fact, when the two chatted in their spare time, aside from planning for their own forces, they did not avoid using later generations as conversation topics.
Tang cavalry fighting bloody battles against the Caliphate in Central Asia made Liu Bei long for it deeply. And the Great Ming, sitting on vast seas yet letting enemies walk in through the door without care, made him sigh.
But if one spoke of strange, the Two Songs ranked at the very top.
Founding the state with force and governing with culture was a principle as obvious as daylight since the Spring and Autumn period.
Former Qin ruled with military law and perished in two generations, earning the name of tyrannical Qin. The Han founder let the people recover, and thus China has carried the name Han to this day.
But this Song was different. Anyone could see it. External threats were not yet resolved, yet literary culture flourished to the extreme. And that peak of literary fashion did not seem to help internal governance very much.
Swearing brotherhood with enemy states. Squeezing the bones and sucking the marrow of the common people. And yet still managing to last for several hundred years.
That was enough to leave anyone unable to make sense of it.
→
"This Song is still Huaxia. Naturally, there are plenty of good men."
Liu Bei said slowly, then concluded.
"Perhaps the Song scholars misunderstood the idea of valuing culture and restraining the military, and instead carried out policies of valuing culture and cutting off the military."
This was also the conclusion he and Kongming reached after discussion.
Ma Chao gave a slight bow. In truth, he was only complaining a little. After all, whether this Song even still existed was another question.
His thinking was very simple. When he rode into Ye City, just like he had imagined at Tong Pass, capturing Cao Aman alive and binding him to his horse, then all these matters of history would surely be completely different.
Seeing Ma Chao's grin almost reaching his eyebrows, Liu Bei secretly felt relieved.
Luckily Yide was not here. Otherwise, come New Year, they might really have to paint him and Cao Cao as door gods to ward off evil.
As for these changes in door gods, with Song people reaching across a thousand years to blame Wu Zixu and Zilong, and pasting foreign enemy generals on palace gates with gold decorations to suppress evil.
For a moment, he could not even tell which of these two things felt more absurd.
Kongming looked at pair after pair of household guardian gods created by stories and romances, waved his fan, and smiled.
"This kind of literary way flourishing among the people may instead allow peace and prosperity for a hundred years without worry."
Previously in Yizhou, story booklets based on those created by the Marquis of Champions did not quite suit local tastes. So after securing Hanzhong and Guanzhong, Kongming moved them there. The people listened in droves.
Kongming went to listen many times himself. Based on what the Guanzhong people discussed, he made many additions and deletions to the stories.
At first, he thought the stories were already quite complete. But with the people talking all at once, one claimed his ancestors had been personal troops of the Marquis of Champions, another said his ancestors had participated in pursuit and annihilation. Story after story was told through the mouths of the people, making the Marquis of Champions' tale no longer thin, which greatly surprised Kongming.
Pang Tong also knew of this, and thus sighed.
"What Kongming says is correct. Rather than carving achievements in stone, rather than recording history on bamboo slips, why not pass it through the mouths of the people?"
In his heart, Pang Tong was also thinking. Maybe when New Year came, he could paint a batch of Wei and Huo as door gods and try selling them to see the response.
That would also count as promoting the Han way. Pang Tong was full of interest.
…
Yuchi Jingde and Qin Qiong sat ever more upright.
There was no helping it. Anyone who kept seeing their names appear again and again on the light screen would probably put on a solemn posture.
Later generations mentioned dozens of pairs when talking about door gods, but the most commonly shown were still Qin Shubao and Yuchi Gong.
So although nothing was said, neither of them took it too seriously.
Yuchi Jingde even hummed softly.
"So later generations painted me this… fierce."
Qin Qiong glanced at him speechlessly, too lazy to point out that the appearance in the paintings probably had little to do with how they actually looked long ago, just borrowing the name of fierce generals.
He did not know what this brother was happily laughing about, actually thinking later generations truly believed Yuchi Gong was as fierce as a god.
Li Shimin's smile grew even wider. He held onto Wei Zheng even tighter and joked.
"Beloved minister, are you in such a hurry because you want to go home and appear in a dream to slay a dragon?"
But considering that Wei Zheng was already fifty two, Li Shimin's teasing stopped as soon as it started. He symbolically helped the old minister sit back down, then stood there, head raised, thinking.
"Even if this Song has no guts left, all the writings of Song and Ming that can be shown to the people still have their merits."
The flourishing of the literary way lies in outstanding words.
The lasting strength of the literary way lies in every aspect of the people's lives.