The hall remained silent after the brief flicker of the lights.
Li Wen steadied herself and continued speaking.
"History remembers Qin Shi Huang as the emperor who unified China," she said. "But the story we inherited was written by those who survived his reign—and those who ruled after him."
The large screen behind her displayed an image of the Terracotta Army.
"Thousands of statues guarding a tomb," she continued. "A monument to power, to fear, and perhaps… to something else."
A hand rose in the audience.
Li Wen paused.
"Yes," she said calmly. "Please."
A tall man in a dark blue suit stood from the middle rows. His posture was confident, almost relaxed, as if he were not intimidated by the thousands of eyes now turning toward him.
"Albert D'Souza," he introduced himself. "Entrepreneur."
A few murmurs passed through the audience.
Albert continued.
"You say history hides shadows," he said. "But if the truth was truly buried… how could anyone uncover it centuries later?"
Li Wen studied him for a moment.
"A fair question," she replied.
She stepped away from the podium slightly.
"History leaves traces," she said. "Ruins. Documents. Artifacts. Sometimes even contradictions."
Albert folded his arms.
"So you believe," he said, "that our understanding of empires is incomplete?"
Li Wen smiled faintly.
"Not incomplete," she replied.
"Controlled."
The audience shifted again.
Albert nodded slowly, as if satisfied for the moment, and sat down.
Before Li Wen could continue, another voice rose from the left side of the hall.
A young man stood up, holding a notebook in one hand.
"Professor Li Wen," he said respectfully, "I'm Arun Chakraborty, from India."
Li Wen looked toward him.
Arun smiled slightly.
"I'm one of your biggest admirers," he said.
A few people in the crowd chuckled.
"But," he added carefully, "I must disagree with something you said."
The room grew quieter.
"You said history is written by the victors," Arun continued. "But that is not always true."
Li Wen raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Arun nodded.
"Take many ancient civilizations," he said. "Sometimes the defeated preserved their own stories. Sometimes historians centuries later tried to correct earlier records."
He lifted his notebook slightly.
"So history is not always controlled by the winners."
For a brief moment, Li Wen said nothing.
Then she nodded thoughtfully.
"You're correct," she said.
Arun looked surprised.
"But," Li Wen continued, "allow me to answer your question with another example."
She turned back toward the giant screen.
The map behind her shifted.
A new image appeared.
An ancient battlefield.
"Imagine," she said quietly, "a war between two rival powers."
"If the victorious king records the battle… what will he write?"
Arun thought for a moment.
"His victory," he said.
"Exactly," Li Wen replied.
She looked back at the audience.
"But what if the defeated side had written the history instead?"
The hall was completely silent now.
"They might describe the same battle very differently," she continued.
"Perhaps as betrayal. Perhaps as tragedy."
She paused.
"And perhaps… they would reveal something the victors tried to erase."
Arun lowered his notebook slowly.
Li Wen's voice grew quieter.
"History is not simply about what happened."
"It is about which stories survived."
A journalist in the front row leaned forward.
"So what story," he asked, "do you believe was erased from the Qin Empire?"
Li Wen closed the folder on the podium.
Her expression changed.
"An emperor who unified a nation," she said slowly…
"…may also have buried a truth that could destroy his legacy."
The lights dimmed slightly again.
And somewhere in the back of the hall—
Someone began to clap.
Slowly.
Once.
Twice.
Li Wen turned her head toward the sound.
Because the man who was clapping…
was the same man who had been watching her earlier.
And he did not look impressed.
He looked concerned.