After discreetly slipping a few coins into a palace eunuch's sleeve, Hou Junji finally let out the breath he had been holding all morning.
The eunuch's whispered update was simple enough. The Emperor's mood today was neither good nor bad. Neutral. Not exactly what you hope for, but better than "actively plotting your execution."
Hou Junji decided he could live with neutral.
It was already the eighth month, and the August sun hung over Chang'an like a giant bronze furnace that someone had forgotten to turn off. Heat blanketed the capital until even standing still felt exhausting. Sweat trickled down his back beneath his official robes, making him feel like he was steaming from the inside out.
For the first time in a long while, he found himself missing the previous summers. Around this time every year, the palace would send blocks of ice to his residence. The ice itself was never the important part. Receiving imperial ice was the Emperor's way of telling everyone, "This official still has my favor." A political statement wrapped in frost. A confirmation of exactly where you stood in the Emperor's heart.
If the ice arrived, life was comfortable. If it did not... well, it might be worth reflecting on whether you had done something exceptionally stupid.
This year? Crickets. Not a single ice chip. Just silence and the relentless August heat.
Combine that deafening silence with what he'd learned from that Light Screen, and Hou Junji was basically a walking anxiety attack wrapped in expensive silk robes. The future had been crystal clear, and it wasn't good. At some point, he would be convicted of treason and lose his head. There was no comforting ambiguity, no "perhaps" or "if circumstances change." The future generations had casually revealed the ending of his life long before he had a chance to reach it himself.
That kind of spoiler does things to a man's mental state. It's one thing to worry about falling out of favor. It's another thing entirely to know with absolute certainty that your career is going to end with a very sharp blade on your neck.
Because of that creeping dread that had taken up permanent residence in the back of his mind, Hou Junji had been putting off the Emperor's assignment for weeks. He checked every calculation over and over again until even he could no longer remember how many times he had verified it. Every detail had to be perfect. Every calculation had to be exact. His political survival, and possibly his actual life, depended on it. There was no room for error when the alternative was becoming a cautionary tale for future generations.
Finally, after endless nights of worrying and double-checking everything, he had something to show for his efforts. Something that might, just might, be good enough to keep his head attached to his shoulders for a little while longer.
While waiting outside the palace, Hou Junji squeezed himself into the narrow strip of shade beside the wall. The stone had been baking under the summer sun all morning and was still warm enough to fry an egg, but compared to standing directly beneath the blazing sky, it felt positively refreshing.
When the summons finally came, he entered Taiji Palace and was greeted by a welcome wave of cool air. For one glorious moment, he almost forgot why he was there.
Then he looked up.
Wei Zheng.
Hou Junji's shoulders stiffened.
Of all the officials he could have run into before meeting the Emperor, why did it have to be Wei Zheng? The man possessed an almost supernatural gift for saying exactly what everyone else was thinking and exactly what nobody wanted to hear.
Other ministers usually tested the water before opening their mouths.
Wei Zheng preferred to dive in headfirst and find out later whether there were rocks underneath. Running into him was like accidentally walking into a brick wall that could also give you a lecture on proper governance.
Hou Junji could only hope that today's audience had already exhausted Wei Zheng's supply of blunt opinions. Experience suggested that was about as likely as the August sun deciding to snow.
The legendary censor looked different. Six months on the northern frontier had clearly been doing their work. The harsh steppe sun had darkened his complexion, his face had grown leaner, and any softness that might have once existed had been stripped away by endless wind and dust. Standing in the audience hall now, Wei Zheng looked less like a court official and more like a veteran commander who'd spent half a year glaring at enemy cavalry until they decided someone else looked easier to fight.
"When I was handling the Turkic situation," Wei Zheng reported, his voice steady but carrying that familiar edge that made court officials instinctively check their collars, "Yi Nan, the Xueyantuo Khan, decided to get creative with his diplomatic approach."
Li Shimin leaned forward, a genuine smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "What did he do?"
"He sent envoys to test our borders. Standard procedure, really. Then he tried to bribe me. Chests of treasure. Actual chests. In exchange for captured Turkic warriors. Looking at his logistics and his general poor judgment, the man isn't just asking for trouble. He's practically writing it a love letter and sending it with flowers."
The Emperor's smile widened. "And I trust you refused with your usual diplomatic grace?"
Wei Zheng didn't even blink. "I accepted it all."
Li Shimin paused. "...You... why?"
"I brought every single coin and gem back to Chang'an," Wei Zheng continued, as if discussing the weather. "The treasury can audit it this afternoon. Since Yi Nan insisted on contributing military funds to the Great Tang, I saw no reason to disappoint him. After securing the capital, I formally charged Yi Nan with bribery and with allowing his horse herds to trespass across our frontier. Then I bypassed the usual channels and sent a thousand heavy cavalry from Bingzhou."
Wei Zheng delivered the casualty report like he was reading a shopping list. "We routed his advance force. Two hundred heads. Over a thousand prisoners. Consider it a light warning on Your Majesty's behalf. Nothing too dramatic, just enough to get his attention."
Li Shimin stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter.
"Wei Zheng, you've taken his treasure, charged him with bribery, defeated his army, and you're calling that a warning? You have a gift, you know that?"
Wei Zheng frowned slightly. "It was only one thousand cavalry."
That somehow made Li Shimin laugh even harder.
Once he finally calmed down, he waved a hand. "Very well. Since Yi Nan was generous enough to finance the Tang army, send every coin to fund the Tuyuhun campaign. If we're going to project power into the Western Regions, we might as well make the Xueyantuo pay for the privilege of being taught a lesson."
Wei Zheng bowed. Military logistics wasn't really his specialty. In the past, he might have argued. But after seeing the Light Screen and the respect it showed for generals like Li Jing, he'd learned to observe more and speak less when it came to military matters. Some battles weren't worth fighting, especially when you were exhausted and hungry.
Before stepping back, Wei Zheng added one more thing. "Your Majesty's reforms to the examination system are the work of a wise ruler. They will change everything."
Li Shimin waved it off like he was shooing away a persistent fly. "I just combined what the Sui started and what the future showed us. Where's the merit in that? Anyone with half a brain could have connected those dots. The real test is whether it actually works. Whether it finds real talent instead of just well-connected families who can afford good tutors. The results will speak for themselves."
With that, Wei Zheng turned to leave and finally noticed Hou Junji lurking by the pillar like a man trying to become one with the architecture.
Wei Zheng offered a polite bow, then marched out without another word. He'd been managing frontier chaos for six months straight. Right now, he needed three things in this exact order: a heavy meal that didn't involve dried meat, good wine that didn't taste like vinegar, and a long nap that didn't involve sleeping with one eye open.
As he walked away, the exhaustion starting to catch up with him, Wei Zheng frowned slightly. Something felt off. Why did this old Hou look like a rabbit that had just realized it was standing in the middle of a wolf pack? Hou Junji outranked him as a Grand General. That's why Wei Zheng had bowed.
Yet the Duke had practically flinched, like he wanted to hide behind the nearest column and hope everyone forgot he was there.
Wei Zheng shrugged it off. Paranoia was practically the official currency of Chang'an. Everyone was always worried about something. He had more important things to worry about, like whether the palace kitchens still made that roast lamb he'd been dreaming about for six months.
Watching the terrifying censor disappear down the corridor, Hou Junji finally let out the breath he'd been holding. The man really was like a walking storm cloud, all dark intensity and barely contained lightning. It was exhausting just being in the same room with him.
Hou Junji stepped forward, very aware of the weight of Li Shimin's suspicious gaze.
The Emperor was watching him like a hawk watches a particularly interesting mouse. Hou Junji reached into his robe, his fingers fumbling slightly before producing a bound manuscript. He presented it with both hands, trying to look confident and not at all like a man who'd been sweating through his robes for the last hour.
"I haven't failed you," Hou Junji said, his voice coming out slightly higher than he'd intended. He cleared his throat and tried again. "The book is done. Every page. Every character. It's all there."
Li Shimin took the manuscript, turning it over in his hands. He felt the weight of the paper, then read the title aloud.
"The Tale of Qu Tu Jilai."
His fingers paused on the cover. The surname Qu Tu stirred something in his memory.
Qu Tu Tong. Now there was a man worth remembering.
A former general of the Sui Dynasty who'd fought Li Shimin at Tong Pass, lost the battle, and been captured.
But instead of executing him like so many other defeated commanders, Li Shimin had recognized something in the man. Skill. Loyalty. Potential. He'd brought Qu Tu Tong into his inner circle, and the old general had repaid that trust a hundred times over.
During the campaign against Wang Shichong, Qu Tu Tong had distinguished himself repeatedly and earned some of the greatest military merits of the war. After Li Shimin took the throne, he'd appointed the man to govern Luoyang, one of the most important cities in the empire.
The old general had quite literally worked himself to death. Li Shimin still remembered receiving the report. Qu Tu Tong had been found at his desk, brush still in his hand, surrounded by unfinished memorials.
The memory lingered only briefly before Li Shimin looked up at Hou Junji, who was standing so stiffly beside a pillar that he looked as though someone had carved him from wood.
"Just relax, old Hou," Li Shimin said with a chuckle. "Take a seat wherever you want."
Hou Junji forced out an awkward smile. Unfortunately, his body had already decided that panicking was the safest course of action.
Li Shimin simply shook his head before opening the manuscript.
The story began with a boy born to a nomadic father and a Han mother who had been taken captive during a border raid. Growing up between two peoples, he belonged completely to neither world. Mocked by his pureblood brothers for his mixed heritage, guided by his mother's teachings, he used both his strength and his wits to survive.
He rose through the ranks of his tribe, eventually becoming chieftain of a small but fiercely loyal group.
When the Sui Dynasty collapsed into chaos, he made a bold decision. He led his people south to join the crumbling empire, seeking stability and a better future. He served under his relative, Qu Tu Tong, proving his loyalty and skill in battle after battle.
He fought the northern Turks with such ferocity that he earned the nickname "Demon of the Steppes." At Tong Pass, during Li Shimin's campaign, it was Qu Tu Jilai who convinced the garrison to surrender rather than face certain death.
During the siege of Wang Shichong, he pulled off a brilliant deception that won the day. He disguised his men as merchants, infiltrated the city, and opened the gates from within. The victory was decisive, and Qu Tu Jilai was rewarded with title and wealth.
In his old age, he led one final expedition back to the northern frontier, the harsh territory where he'd been born, to retrieve his mother's remains and bury them in the Central Plains where she'd always wanted to rest.
Before Li Shimin realized it, two full hours had passed.
The attendants stood motionless, barely daring to breathe.
Several eunuchs approached with memorials requiring the imperial seal, only to be intercepted by Hou Junji, whose expression suggested that anyone interrupting the Emperor at this moment might become the next chapter of an entirely different story. The eunuchs retreated.
By the time Hou Junji's legs had almost forgotten what normal circulation felt like, Li Shimin closed the manuscript with a loud smack.
"Brilliant."
Hou Junji nearly collapsed with relief.
He'd been standing there for two straight hours, convinced that if the Emperor frowned even slightly, his ancestors would soon be receiving visitors bearing condolences.
Li Shimin leaned back in his chair with obvious satisfaction. He had read official histories, campaign records, and enough memorials to build a wall from stacked bamboo slips, but this felt completely different.
The novel never preached. It simply allowed the reader to watch a man born beyond the frontier become more devoted to the empire than many who had been born within it. The contrast between the chaos beyond the frontier and the order established under the Tang was equally effective. None of it felt forced, yet every chapter nudged the reader toward the same conclusion.
Li Shimin found himself unexpectedly impressed. No wonder storytellers could gather crowds wherever they went. A good story could persuade people far more effectively than ten lectures from court scholars.
He tapped the cover thoughtfully before looking at Hou Junji. "This Qu Tu Jilai... is he still alive? I'd quite like to meet him."
Hou Junji hesitated before rubbing the back of his neck. "Your Majesty... he doesn't actually exist."
Li Shimin blinked. "...What?"
"The campaigns are real. General Qu Tu Tong is real. Many of the battles happened exactly as written." Hou Junji coughed lightly. "But Qu Tu Jilai himself is not."
Seeing the Emperor's confusion, he hurriedly explained. "I sent people to interview veterans who had served under General Qu Tu Tong. We gathered dozens of accounts from different soldiers, compared military records, and pieced together the common experiences. The protagonist is a composite of many men rather than one."
Li Shimin stared at the manuscript for several moments before suddenly laughing.
He shook the book once before setting it back on the table. "I actually forgot I was reading fiction. If someone like him had really existed, Qu Tu Tong would have dragged him into my court by the collar years ago."
He looked at Hou Junji, still smiling. "This is excellent work. The people are going to love it."
The strategic value was obvious.
"This book is a weapon," Li Shimin said. "Have it copied and distributed throughout the empire. I want it in every market town. Old Hou, you will oversee the entire operation."
Hou Junji bowed, relief washing over him. He accepted the mission without hesitation.
To Li Shimin, the novel was an entertaining story. But he knew perfectly well that it had never been written for emperors. It had been written for ordinary people.
Instead of arguing about politics and taxes over cups of cheap wine, commoners would be talking about the strange customs of the northern tribes. They would laugh at the arrogance of the Sui aristocracy and cheer every time another corrupt noble met an unfortunate end.
And stories never stayed where they were born.
Once the story spread through the taverns of Chang'an, foreign merchants would hear it. They'd carry it back along the Silk Road. They'd tell it around campfires to tribes that still drank blood to survive the winter.
The message was simple enough that anyone could understand it.
The Tang Dynasty doesn't care about your family tree. We pay in silver and land. Bring your skills, bring your loyalty, get a lord title. It was the ultimate recruitment ad.
Once that seed took root, whether Qu Tu Jilai had ever existed became completely irrelevant.
Since returning from the western campaign, Hou Junji's heart had been hanging by a thread. Now, having delivered this weapon, that heart finally settled back in his chest.
After a planning session, Li Shimin even gave him another assignment.
Old Hou basically rode out of the palace feeling rejuvenated. He mounted his horse and trotted down the main avenue. The city looked different. The street vendors shouting their wares didn't give him a headache anymore. It sounded like a thriving capital. Those foreign merchants with their smelly camels weren't enemy spies anymore. They were just carriers for his story.
When a toddler wandered into his horse's path, the old Hou Junji would have reached for his whip. Today? He just pulled the reins, stopped, and gave a wide smile to the terrified mother.
For once, Hou Junji felt like today was the first good day he had enjoyed in a very long time.
Along the main avenues, a mob was choking the public notice boards. Nobody cared about silk prices or grain taxes today. They were glued to the new imperial edicts like they'd just discovered gold.
"Is the Emperor actually serious?" a man in a frayed hemp tunic shouted, jabbing at the wood. "No quotas? No background checks? He's letting farmers sit in the same exam hall as the Cui clan sons! This is madness!"
"Then stop whining and read the ink, you blind fool!" another man snapped, shoving past him. "It says merit only. Raw scores. The Emperor is finally getting rid of aristocratic privilege. Cry about it."
"The heavenly mandate is rotting!" an old man wailed, clutching his chest. "My grandfather was a county clerk under the Sui! We had lineage! Now some farmer's brat thinks he can wear official silk? What do you have, you illiterate cur? Nothing but mud under your nails and hot air in your belly!"
"Mud built this empire, old fossil!" the younger man shot back, stepping right into the old man's face. "You've never even held an exam brush! My cousin scored top marks last year and got posted to Luoyang while your nephew still begs for scraps at the West Market gate! You're angry because your family name doesn't buy jobs anymore!"
"Your cousin is a rat who bribed the proctor!" the old man spat, his saliva landing on the younger man's sleeve. "The Sui fell because men like you forgot respect! You think the Tang will survive with peasants running the ministries? You're signing our death warrant!"
"I'll sign it with my fist!" the younger man roared, rolling up his sleeves. A woman beside him grabbed his wrist. "Don't! The ward guards are right there!" He shook her off and poked the old man's nose. "Say 'bribed' again. I dare you. Say it and see if your Sui lineage stops my knuckles!"
A silk merchant tried to squeeze between them. "Move, you lunatics! Some of us have actual business!" Nobody moved.
Two more men jumped in, one defending the old man's ancestral prestige, the other screaming about how his own brother passed the prelims with zero connections. Voices stacked on top of each other. Insults flew faster than cavalry charges. Someone kicked over a basket of dried plums. The fruit rolled into the gutter as the argument escalated to shoving.
Hou Junji watched the mob ready to throw hands over government policy and smirked. The Tang martial spirit wasn't dead. It was just redirected. Everyone was one insult away from a street brawl, and that was exactly what he wanted.
Better they fight over exam slots than plot rebellions in dark alleys.
He nudged his horse forward and kept riding. Let them scream. As long as they were screaming at each other instead of at the palace gates, his head stayed firmly attached to his neck. And right now, that was the only metric that mattered
With his head still attached to his neck, Hou Junji finally started thinking about legacy. He needed to secure his sons' futures.
As a Duke, he had access to restricted files. He knew exactly what the Emperor was building. The exam expansion was the velvet glove. The restructuring of the bureaucracy was the iron fist.
The new system was brutally logical. Exam passers and war veterans got priority for government posts. Aristocrat sons who relied on inherited privilege were getting systematically downgraded. Fail your annual review and you didn't just get a warning. You lost your title permanently. No appeals.
Hou Junji ran the numbers in his head. If an emperor tried this in the early Zhenguan years, the Great Clans would have sparked a civil war.
But now? If a major clan drafted a protest, Li Shimin wouldn't even debate them. He'd just send the captured Turkic Khan to perform a dance in their fancy courtyard. A threat wrapped in imperial courtesy. Complain and the army pays you a visit.
Every new decree worked the same way. They didn't hurt the peasants. They only hurt the Great Clans.
Those clans weren't the untouchable titans of the Wei and Jin eras anymore. Their fangs had been pulled. All they could do now was market their cultural superiority and pretend they were above it all.
Hou Junji knew what those angry families were doing. They were hiding in their estates, playing the long game. Waiting for a catastrophic Tang defeat. The moment Li Shimin showed weakness, they'd swarm.
But when it came to military logistics and battlefield command, how could the Emperor possibly lose? The man was practically unbeatable.
He rode through the city gates. Urban sprawl gave way to farmland. Fields stretched to the horizon like a perfect patchwork.
"Hold!"
Hou Junji yanked the reins. He looked down at a muddy irrigation ditch and burst out laughing.
"Lord Zhangsun. I trust you've been well?"
Standing knee-deep in muck was Zhangsun Wuji. The Emperor's brother-in-law. One of the most powerful political architects in the empire. Or at least he used to be. Right now he looked like a beggar. His silk robes were hiked up and splattered with black mud. His hair was coming undone. Sweat cut tracks through the dirt on his face.
If a passing merchant saw this, they'd never believe he was royalty. They'd probably toss him a copper coin and move on.
Zhangsun Wuji planted his hoe in the dirt and squinted up at the rider. He let out a sharp laugh.
"I was wondering who was casting such an ugly shadow over my field," he said. "Turns out it's the headless traitor."
The words hit Hou Junji like a punch to the gut. His chest tightened. Paranoia spiked instantly. But he forced his face into a mask of casual amusement.
"And here I thought Lord Zhangsun had accepted that his political career was over," Hou Junji shot back, leaning on his saddle horn. "Have you finally decided to master manure spreading as your retirement hobby?"
Zhangsun Wuji looked up at him with pure pity. The Duke of Lu sat tall on his horse, radiating the confidence of a man who thought the Emperor had forgiven him.
Zhangsun knew better. You don't try to replicate the Xuanwu Gate coup and expect Li Shimin to let it slide. The Emperor used people for their utility, but he never forgot a threat.
"The grand strategy of the state depends on a stable throne," Zhangsun Wuji said, his voice dripping with condescension. "And stable thrones depend on agriculture. Since the empire has plenty of brilliant generals to handle foreign barbarians, a useless old man like me has no choice but to pull weeds."
He picked up his hoe and turned his back.
"Don't let me delay whatever errand the Emperor has graciously allowed you to run, Duke of Lu. And try not to trample my retirement crops."
Hou Junji stared at the man's back for a long moment. He scanned the muddy field, searching for some hidden trap. He found nothing but wet soil and rice shoots.
He shook his head, pulled the reins, and spurred his horse back onto the road. He didn't have time for games with a disgraced minister. He had imperial orders. He needed to reach Chencang and recruit a minor official named Liu Rengui before sunset.