For Li Shimin, the sight of Never Sleeping Chang'an was something that, once seen, could never be forgotten.
From time to time, he would even dream of that bustling street, wandering within it and unable to leave.
Even though he could not see every detail clearly, just the prosperity of the streets and the smiling, laughing people were enough to make him yearn deeply for the future.
But what lay before his eyes now, the atmosphere of prosperity and celebration, was more than ten times greater than that Never Sleeping Chang'an of his dreams.
Empress Zhangsun, seeing such a scene for the first time, could hardly believe it and asked in disbelief,
"So this is Chang'an a thousand years later?"
She saw the annotation on the side of the light screen:
[Xi'an New Year's Eve Celebration]
Xi'an. In later ages, Chang'an would be called by this name. Empress Zhangsun remembered Erlang had mentioned this to her before, and had often sighed about the prosperity of later generations.
At the time, she believed him, but had no concrete image in her mind. Only now, seeing it with her own eyes, did she truly realize that what Erlang said was not exaggerated.
But Erlang had clearly seen this before. Why was he even more excited than she was?
And it was not just Li Shimin.
Even Fang Xuanling, who always seemed to be conserving his energy, and Zhangsun Wuji, who usually appeared indifferent to everything, were now staring without blinking.
Even the Yan brothers had put down their brushes, carefully watching the scene, hoping to engrave it deeply into their minds.
There was no other way. The scenery was too complex, and the images moved far too quickly. It was impossible to paint it in time.
Better to remember it first, then try to recreate it later with brush and ink. At least that had a small chance of success.
But the rapidly changing images were far from over.
Men and women dressed in magnificent Tang-style clothing laughed, played, and congratulated one another. At the same time, a passionate voice recited loudly:
"Together we welcome the new and send off the old.
All in a single night.
Open the city gates. Welcome the guests."
All eyes in Ganlu Hall immediately turned to Li Shimin.
This emperor excelled in warfare, governed the state well, and in his spare time was deeply devoted to calligraphy and poetry, with wide-ranging interests.
These two lines, "Together we welcome the new and send off the old, all in a single night," were exactly the same as the final two lines of a poem he had personally written for New Year's Day several years ago. The meaning could not have been clearer.
Even after a thousand years, even with a changed name, this city still remembered the founder of the Tang, using His Majesty's poetry as the opening words.
But the flood of dazzling content left the ministers no time to dwell on amazement.
Brand-new city gates thundered open. The scene on the light screen surged forward, then pulled high into the air, revealing a city that made the Zhenguan-era audience unable to tell how many years of time separated them.
At the center of the image stood a youth drawn in ink and color, not a real person, wearing a cloak. He raised his cup toward the magnificent city and laughed loudly:
"Romance shines for a thousand years.
Literary talent boasts to the world.
The stars turn and the galaxy shifts.
Come, look at today's Chang'an."
Chang'an. Chang'an. Chang'an.
Just two short words, yet they flashed across an entire city. In a daze, they seemed to become a bridge between ancient and modern times, tugging at the hearts of everyone in Ganlu Hall.
What should today's Chang'an look like?
A hundred grand dances celebrate the passing year.
One night becomes a sea of dragons and fish.
A thousand trees of silver flowers burst into bloom.
All night long, Chang'an is dressed in splendor.
An ink-drawn figure in a robe, wearing a hard-footed futou hat, stood as tall as a pagoda, holding a pipa and playing and singing with abandon.
On the ground, people in even more splendid Tang-style clothing laughed and sang, chanting in harmony.
The content they sang together, though unfamiliar, carried a strange sense of familiarity.
"When life is proud, one must enjoy to the fullest, do not let the golden cup…
Riding with spring breeze, hooves flying fast, in one day see all…
From the sea rises the bright moon, at the edge of the sky…"
The ink figure's voice was bold and stirring, like a mighty river.
The voices of the later generations were steady and confident, filled with youthful spirit.
The civil and military officials of Zhenguan tried to chant along while reading the subtitles. They felt something stirring in their hearts, but as if separated by a thin layer of paper, unable to fully break through, until they reached:
"The people of today do not see the moon of ancient times.
Yet today's moon once shone on the ancients.
Ancient and modern flow like running water.
All gaze upon the same bright moon."
How could they not understand now?
Fang Xuanling murmured softly,
"Though separated by a thousand years, we share the same moon. Seas change, lands shift, but the Chinese moon remains."
With the annotations, they all knew the sources of these poems. Even though there were decades between them and Li Bai, who wrote many of these lines, through these verses alone, how could they fail to understand?
The later generations created this scene to celebrate together across time.
Even when celebrating the New Year, they did not forget to celebrate together with their ancestors.
Many among the civil and military officials were quick-witted, but facing such unprecedented sights, they found themselves at a loss for words, unable to express the excitement in their hearts.
Li Shimin's face showed undisguised pride, but also a trace of unavoidable regret.
"It is a pity that today is not New Year's Day. Otherwise…"
Empress Zhangsun laughed lightly.
"If it were New Year's Day, Your Majesty would first need to hold the grand court assembly, then arrange the great ceremonies, banquet the hundred officials, and sacrifice to Heaven and Earth. How could you have such leisure?"
"If Your Majesty wishes, you might use the name of celebrating great victory to distribute funds, ease laws, and let the people recover and celebrate together."
This was a good idea, and it struck right at Li Shimin's heart.
He could not help but think, among the virtuous empresses of a thousand years, Guanyinbi would surely rank among them.
Du Ruhui sighed with a smile to those beside him,
"This Li Bai truly deserves to be called the immortal of Tang poetry."
From the annotations, it was clear that most of the poems recited came from Li Bai. His wording was both bold and unrestrained, yet fresh and elegant. Truly a banished immortal among poets.
It was just a pity that such an immortal encountered the An Lushan Rebellion.
Du Ruhui now genuinely felt sorrow for this poetic immortal.
Fang Xuanling stroked his beard and smiled.
"It is also thanks to Kemin's tireless efforts that this immortal could appear in Tang."
Du Ruhui smiled and did not fully agree or disagree.
After all, without Sun Simiao, he would have died of illness last year. How many bricks could he really add to this prosperous age?
The people praised him for decisive judgments, but without Xuanling's countless strategies, how could he make such calm decisions?
But this old friend was always modest, and there was no need for further polite exchanges. So he sighed,
"It seems that in later ages, both literary and technical paths are valued."
Based on later knowledge of "principles" and "physics," several ministers now tentatively divided learning into two paths.
The literary path valued strategy and poetry, testing talent and literary skill.
The technical path valued mathematics and engineering, testing calculation and mechanical ingenuity.
With this distinction came the need to reorganize the Imperial Academy, and naturally, which path was better became a topic of debate.
Now it seemed there was no difference. Without these poems, perhaps later generations would not remember these "ancients" with such elegance.
These thoughts passed quickly.
Fang Xuanling heard Du Ruhui sigh softly in disappointment.
"It's over…"
Looking up, he saw that Kemin was right. The recitation on the light screen gradually faded, and the grand scene slowly receded. He could not help but sigh softly as well.
But surprisingly, this soft sigh echoed loudly in Ganlu Hall.
Fang Xuanling hurriedly looked around, only to realize it was not just him.
Like him, Wei Zheng, Yuchi Gong, Yan Lide, even His Majesty and the Empress, all could not hide their disappointment. They sighed together, then startled and looked around.
The situation made everyone laugh together, like a gust of wind sweeping away the regret, leaving only satisfaction and joy.
…
"Is it time for Bianliang… oh no, Kaifeng's New Year's Eve scene?"
Zhao Guangyi asked excitedly.
He had already heard from his elder brother that Bianliang would be called Kaifeng in later ages. As the current Prefect of Kaifeng, he felt a special emotion toward the name.
But what disappointed Zhao Guangyi was that although Kaifeng appeared next, it was not prominent.
Or rather, what appeared was a complete panorama of China's New Year's Eve, with Bianliang only as one part of it.
From this moment on, the perspective of the light screen was like that of a true immortal.
[Luoyang City] The restored [Mingtang and Tiantang] were brilliantly lit. Crowds flooded [Yingtian Gate], with lights burning all night.
The view rose again, flying eastward along a thin jade-like ribbon on the ground for hundreds of li. A vast city came into view, decorated with lanterns like a splendid capital.
"The later Kaifeng's prosperity does not lose to Chang'an," Zhao Guangyi commented excitedly.
But unexpectedly, the light screen lightly passed over this huge city, barely glancing at it, and instead headed southeast toward a city that, though brightly lit, was clearly three or four times smaller.
The name appeared on the screen:
[Kaifeng]
Zhao Guangyi's words stuck in his throat. His first reaction was indignation.
"How can this auxiliary city be more prosperous than Bianjing?"
Zhao Kuangyin raised his eyes slightly and said calmly,
"Virtue is not equal to strategic advantage. And after a thousand years since the fall of Song, why must the capital be honored? As for Southern Song…"
At this point, Zhao Kuangyin's smile became a little strange. Perhaps it was painful to think about, so he stopped, turned back to the light screen, and commented seriously,
"To use tens of millions of lights to celebrate New Year's Eve. Truly magnificent."
Zhao Pu strongly agreed.
On the screen, [Qingming Riverside Park] was filled with countless lights, with rivers reflecting dazzling colors.
It lacked Chengdu's magical brilliance and Chang'an's overwhelming grandeur. This park was much quieter.
Common people walked in groups, stopping to admire lanterns, or standing beside colorful lights, holding a small square box to compare a couple of times before leaving. Perhaps it was some new ritual to ward off illness.
In Zhao Pu's eyes, the lights of Qingming Riverside Park gradually turned into raging flames.
The smiles on the faces of people dressed in imitation ancient clothing disappeared, replaced by panic.
Then barbarian troops charged in on horseback, unstoppable, seizing men and women like sheep.
The people cried toward the south, and the only response was the emperor's carriage leaving without looking back.
Zhao Kuangyin shook his head. The illusions dispersed.
He glanced again at the descendants on screen, whose faces showed no sorrow, inhaled softly, and lowered his eyes.
Zhao Guangyi still looked a little indignant, but his expression had softened, his gaze unfocused, lost in thought.
Zhao Pu looked around and sighed softly.
The realm was not yet unified, and within there were such brotherly issues.
It seemed the emperor still wanted to eliminate the future Jingkang Disaster before it could happen.
Zhao Pu could only sigh.
How difficult it would be.
While the three were lost in thought, the light screen changed again.
The content became even faster.
Acrobats held wine in one hand and a torch in the other, breathing out a long stream of fire that turned into a fire dragon.
In Ganlu Hall, Yuchi Gong raised his eyebrows, suddenly wanting to go home and try it himself at night.
Rough paper over bamboo frames, candles inside and blessings written outside. Hundreds of such lanterns were lit and released together, rising into the sky and decorating it beautifully.
Zhuge Kongming of Han Chang'an sat up straight, lips pressed tight, opening his notebook without even looking, hurriedly recording ideas with a serious expression.
Pine and bamboo leaves covered wooden frames to form fake tree flower sheds. Several strong men stood shirtless beneath.
One scooped molten iron and lightly tossed it. Another used a weapon to strike it upward, scattering the molten iron into thousands of sparks, like a thousand flowers blooming in the night.
The sparks rolled over pine needles and bamboo leaves, dazzling beyond compare.
At this moment, both Liu Bei and Li Shimin could not help but praise it, and ordered it recorded. These were all things that could be used during New Year celebrations.
Dragon dances, lion dances, stilt walking, and lantern lifting flashed by. The rapid switching made it impossible to look away.
Yet no matter how the scene changed, on the left side, a sundial-like object never changed, though its three hands slowly moved.
Finally, when the three hands pointed straight up, the camera rose rapidly again, revealing once more a kingdom of lights beneath.
"Night turned into day," Kongming murmured.
He guessed that this sundial-like object was for measuring time. When all three hands pointed up at night, it must be midnight, corresponding to noon.
He had thought that decorating cities with lights was already astonishing.
But compared to this, those city lights now seemed dim.
Fireworks shot into the sky and exploded, lighting up the night. Each burst lasted only an instant.
But what if there were tens of thousands, or even hundreds of millions of fireworks?
With one after another, the instant of brilliance was extended, until the midnight sky, which should have been pitch-black, became as bright as day.
The light screen flew on like an immortal, city after city exploding into daylight under fireworks, thrown behind.
Finally, the image rose straight up. The earth below grew smaller and began to show a curve.
This sight was not unfamiliar to either Han Chang'an or Ganlu Hall.
At this height, the white daylight of countless cities was no longer visible, but fine points of light could still be seen.
"The descendants were right," Du Ruhui inhaled softly, his voice filled with undisguised envy.
"Such a celebration can truly be called unparalleled in five thousand years."
Yuchi Jingde scratched his head, pleased by the sight, and said casually,
"Even if we lit all of Chang'an on fire, it probably wouldn't look this good."
Qin Qiong almost fell over from shock at his brother's words.
…
In Bianliang Palace, Zhao Guangyi really did fall over.
The scene was on the roof, and unlike his brother, he could not bring out a reclining chair. He could only crane his neck to look.
As the view rose higher and higher, the earth curved and finally became a giant sphere. The shock was unprecedented.
He fell flat to the ground.
Even so, Zhao Guangyi scrambled up, shouting,
"Your Majesty… Elder Brother, Fourth Brother!"
"This giant sphere, what is this? We are standing on it and never even realized?"
Zhao Kuangyin could only remain silent.
Lying comfortably on his recliner, his doubts were no less than his brother's.
His only thought was:
He must consult Tang Taizong and Marquis Zhuge.