Chapter 69: The Mirror is Full of Personal Intentions and Has No Morals (See the Author's Explanation...)

After a long sermon by the rapper urging people to do good, Jing Nong finally entered into the familiar Chinese folktale of He Sheng.

The drama unfolds in a series of events, including concubines vying for power, princes fighting for the throne, and governors rebelling, leaving viewers breathless.

King Yang of Fulin was not originally the crown prince. However, because Queen Abhinaya slandered the crown prince to King Huixiang day and night, King Huixiang deposed the eldest son and established the younger son as the crown prince...

"Oh. These scenes seem so familiar." Li Shimin picked up a string of roasted glutinous rice balls. "Look, doesn't it resemble a sequel to your play 'Pu Tou'?"

"Nonsense and falsehoods." Changsun Qingjing lifted the veil, extremely nervous.

The people of Tiaozhi aren't stupid. Li Shimin was obviously talking nonsense.

The rapper and the masked performer work together to deliver the following speech.

After King Huixiang of Fulin passed away, King Yang acted like Jie and Zhou, which abhorred the people. The Empress Dowager finally could not tolerate it any longer and threatened to expel King Yang and depose the Crown Prince.

Prince Yang preemptively struck, murdering his mother and wife, secretly killing his mentor, becoming close to the wicked queen, distancing himself from virtuous concubines, associating with wicked and treacherous officials, and neglecting loyal and virtuous people. He was obsessed with grandiose achievements and indulged in unrestrained pleasures.

Everyone held their breath, unsure whether the people from Tiaozhi were acting unintentionally or intentionally.

"You mean, they hired a scholar from Luoyang to write the script?" A young man with a high nose and deep-set eyes in the back row chatted with Li Shimin in fluent Luoyang dialect.

“Who knows? This Prince Yang is a mix of countless tyrannical rulers we know!” Li Shimin interjected. “It makes me feel suffocated and confused.”

When the play reached the scene where Yu Han was banished to Pomo Island by this tyrant, sure enough, the masses of people wholeheartedly hoped that the saints would attain enlightenment so that they could enjoy the fruits of enlightenment themselves, yet they disdained to understand the process of their enlightenment.

"These Persian dates are very sweet. How were they made by honey-frying them?" Li Shimin asked curiously.

"It's not the honey-frying method; Persian dates are naturally this sweet," a young man in the back row, who appeared to be Sogdian, boasted about his knowledge.

"However, it's not impossible." Changsun Qingjing was engrossed in pondering whether a Confucian scholar from the Central Plains had embellished the story of Fulin, unaware that the people around him were extremely bored and had begun talking about exotic fruits and dates.

Changsun Qingjing always felt as if he were looking at a dynasty reflected in a bronze mirror: "Since Yao, Shun, Yu, and Tang are similar to China, then Jie, Zhou, Li, and You must also be similar to China. Wise and virtuous rulers can always use different methods to restore order and bring the country back to the right path; but mediocre and foolish rulers will bring about the downfall of their country in the same way, with nothing remarkable to mention."

"Your insight is brilliant, Madam," the Sogdian exclaimed, clapping his hands in praise.

Changsun Qingjing turned around to greet him, and the Sogdian praised her again, saying, "Madam is truly a celestial being."

Facing Li Shimin's mocking gaze, the Sogdian young man introduced himself frankly: "My surname is Cao, my given name is Yuhan, and I am from Qiao County."

After he finished speaking, he pointed to the elderly man on the stage, writing furiously on a deserted island in the dark night. Everyone then understood the origin of his name.

Changsun Qingjing coughed repeatedly from the choking on the rose dew. Li Shimin, however, bowed solemnly and said, "My apologies. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Perhaps this jesting actor simply couldn't make suffering sound any more pleasant. Looking around at the drowsy crowd in the stands, he steeled himself and decided to move on to Fulin Capital.

A jester wearing the golden crown and mask of King Fulin stands at the highest point of the stage, reciting a passionate and uplifting poem: "The blazing flames engulf the city, reflecting the crimson night; the golden palace rises anew, the old walls stand empty. The music never ceases, I am intoxicated; alone I grasp the stars and sing of the great wind."

"He's also an emperor who loves literature," Changsun Qingjing muttered to herself. She suddenly realized that the word "also" was quite inappropriate, so she quickly covered her mouth, looked around, and only after finding that no one was paying attention to her words did she feel relieved and continue watching the play.

"What kind of 'Song of the Great Wind' is this? It's quite powerful. Its heroic spirit is comparable to His Majesty's series of poems about conquering Liaodong," Li Shimin asked.

"Cao Jun is blessed with exceptional talent and brilliant ideas, truly worthy of his ancestry in Qiao County. I, Li, am deeply impressed."

"Epilepsy!" Changsun Qingjing muttered under his breath.

Because he found the two of them too talkative, Changsun Qingjing lightly patted Li Shimin's shoulder with his shawl.

The Sogdian man clasped his hands in greeting and said, "Madam, do not worry. We are merely discussing poetry, and have no intention of making any insinuations. Come, come, I'll treat you. Let's have some more Persian dates and mutton naan, and enjoy the song and dance..."

The tense sounds of the bili and pipa hint at a human tragedy.

The Persians held up swirling red silk and crimson blood coral around the stage, then simultaneously performed a fire-breathing illusion.

Flames suddenly shot into the sky, and jets of fire shot through the air.

The entire stage simulates the scene of the capital city of Fulin, where red tongues lick the sky and crimson scales gnaw at pavilions.

"That day, the flames burned over the Nine Provinces Pond like this..." Li Shimin frowned, his tone changing from his earlier joking and sarcastic manner, and his back stiffened instantly.

She was surprised to find that her husband's body was like a frozen statue, and the virtual karmic fire on the stage stirred up some terrible past that he had never mentioned to her.

Perhaps she misunderstood him?

On the stage, innocent people cried out in agony as they fled, displaced and homeless.

Their king, however, stood atop the mountain, inspired by poetry, ignoring the lives of his people.

"Bodhisattva."

"Aroha".

People of different appearances and beliefs in the audience, filled with sympathy for the innocent, called upon the gods in their hearts.

The Persians withdrew temporarily, and after six days of singing and preaching, the fire was extinguished. King Fulin summoned officials from the six ministries for a meeting. The ministers knew that King Yang had only ordered the arson and the killing of the people in order to satisfy his divine desire for a rainbow, yet they remained silent in fear.

The red writing brush has already been used, and the world is in uproar.

Next, the Dali Temple and the Ministry of Justice, hoping to shift the blame for arson onto the Nestorian Christians, imposed martial law and a full-scale manhunt by the imperial guards, and then threw these Nestorian Christians into wrestling arenas and theaters for the entertainment of dignitaries.

Suddenly, A-Cai, who was completely focused, let out a sharp scream and buried her head in Changsun Qingjing's arms.

“It’s all a Persian illusion, fake, all fake. No one was hurt,” Changsun Qingjing comforted Acai, patting her back. She watched the sensational plot unfolding on stage.

Masked actors, disguised as various wild beasts, wrestle with unarmed, innocent civilians. The bright lanterns illuminate the scattered limbs, bloodstains, and hearts, livers, and lungs spilling from their skins…

"It's alright, it's alright, it'll be over soon, it'll be over soon." Changsun Qingjing hugged Acai tightly. "I assure you, the Persian actors don't have any external injuries. If you don't believe me, take a close look when the curtain falls. Those dead actors will come jumping around again, asking for their reward money."

Tears welled in Changsun Qingjing's eyes, his mind filled with images of refugees on Mangban Road, banners summoning souls, mothers and children barely clothed before their deaths, corpses lying side by side on the road, giants with nowhere to go in the well, and bloodthirsty jackals that devoured human flesh... These pitiful people were, in a way, thrown into another arena of wrestling where they could not survive by their emperor.

"I originally thought that sending innocent children of good birth to the Jiaofangsi (a government-run entertainment district) and reducing them to the status of lowly was already excessive, but who would have thought that this ruler would go even further, directly finding ways to kill these people who had suffered from both fire and injustice. The posthumous title 'Yang' is truly fitting in both form and spirit," Li Shimin mocked.

"How about adding the character '厉'?" Cao Jun muttered to himself. "However, the character '厉' is still too easy for Nilu. The character '炀' is more appropriate."

"Hey, gentlemen, could you please keep your voices down? My wife wants to see the imperial concubines vying for favor and the stunning dances in the imperial garden. Your voices are louder than a reed pipe; she can't hear anything..." someone in the front row said impatiently, turning around to scold them.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Cao Jun bowed in apology.

After a moment of silence, the moving light wheel swept across the stage, and the flower branches were ignited with golden holy light. Yu Han Nan rushed back from Bomo Island to rescue the people, exposed the truth about Ni Lu's arson, and ultimately died a martyr.

“This is truly another Zilu,” Cao Jun sighed.

A Cai also sat up from Changsun Qingjing's lap, tidied her hair apologetically, and then sat down to continue watching the play.

Li Shimin looked directly at the stage and handed a folded silk handkerchief to Changsun Qingjing.

"I don't want to use yours." Changsun Qingjing pushed his hand away.

"Don't worry, I was just thinking about the past, I didn't cry. I haven't used this handkerchief before." Li Shimin, focused on the new plot of the Imperial Guards' plot to assassinate the emperor, said without turning his head, "Your handkerchief is soaked with tears and snot and can't be used anymore, is it? Are your eyes red and swollen?"

Li Shimin shrugged: "What the Han people said was true. This pot of cicada-and-phoenix soup in the Great Qin Kingdom is indeed similar to China..."

"Good riddance!" Cao Jun shouted suddenly from behind like a thunderclap, then slapped his thigh and laughed loudly, "The clouds have parted and the sun has shone through, this is truly gratifying!"

The dignified Prince Niru of Fulin was forced to flee in panic by the Imperial Guards, and was abandoned by all his friends and family. Only the virtuous concubine, who had been estranged from him for repeatedly offering her advice, and a group of servants remained loyal to him.

In desperation, Nilu pointed at his own deranged poet's head and shouted, "A proud craftsman's head, the essence of skillful craftsmanship, how dare you cut it down?"

The actor then wailed twice, both sorrowfully and arrogantly.

The audience booed louder and louder.

"A monarch should not act so undignifiedly."

"Slit your own throat!"

"Poison him!"

"Let him hang himself to atone for his sins!"

Finally, a lance pierced his throat. The Persians always managed to portray such scenes of spurting blood with incredible realism. The audience, who had been feeling stifled all day, felt an immense sense of catharsis!

Consort Xian held his body and cried out in anguish. The imperial guards could not bear to kill this loyal woman, so they allowed her and the palace servants to gather all the purple silk in the palace to wrap the tyrannical emperor's body and hastily bury him.

"He certainly died a good death," Changsun Qingjing murmured to himself.

"I'm afraid the governors will start another chaotic war under the guise of defending the emperor... In any case, it's the common people who will suffer." Li Shimin, Changsun Qingjing, and Cao Lang speculated about the next development.

"Will they also experience the War of the Eight Princes?" Changsun Qingjing asked.

"Who knows?" Li Shimin remained noncommittal.

“Definitely.” Cao Lang, true to his Sogdian heritage, said, “But there’s definitely no performance tonight. The Tiaozhi people need to keep us in suspense, hoping for the next round of drinks and tips! Perhaps there will be a new performance on the Shangsi Festival.”

It was just a play, and everyone suddenly burst into laughter, relieved.

"Thank you for your kind words. She was originally a gentle and virtuous woman, but unfortunately she was entrusted to the wrong person. Look at those fierce imperial guards in the song and dance, didn't they spare Consort Xian? She should be fine."

Strangely, although rose dew is clearly not wine, a few lines of text suddenly appeared in Changsun Qingjing's mind: "Admire the legacy of Zhou Si, admire the sage rule of Consort Yu. Respect the great talents of the ancient sages, and value the virtuous character of the sages."

She was terrified and dared not think any further.

As the drums sounded, a Wu-ling (a type of silk fabric) painted with a lotus throne and a cross was raised high. The resurrected Yu-han-nan appeared behind the Wu-ling and embarked once again on the road to Fu-lin.

"Excellent!"

"Wonderful!"

"Excellent!"

The crowd cheered that the King Yang had deserved his violent death and that the Buddha had miraculously returned from the dead.

The soul that upholds the great way stands tall, while the tyrant who severs himself from benevolence suffers humiliation and execution.

"Excellent!" Li Shimin praised sincerely. He applauded the few virtuous gentlemen and righteous men in the world who followed the right path.

“Vitiha, I’m not feeling well!” Changsun Qingjing noticed several young men in black robes sitting in the distance, who were not interested in watching the play or cheering, and whose faces were tense as they looked around. He tugged at Li Shimin’s sleeve, signaling that they should leave. “There are some people mixed in with the guests. Let’s go quickly.”

She removed the necklace from her neck, the filigree and glass-inlaid ring from her hand, and a reply letter, handing them to A-Cai and instructing her to find Qin Liu-Niang. She then urged the others in her group to leave the chaotic scene as soon as possible.

After carefully putting away the gifts from Changsun Qingjing and the letter written to her father, Qin Liuniang clutched a silver silk pouch woven with cross, lotus, and cloud patterns and ran to the seat of the woman she had taken a liking to.

Unfortunately, all she saw were a few neatly arranged cups and plates, a chirping jay nodding, and a unicorn on the table, its shape seemingly drawn with rose dew or tears, with an arrow piercing its forehead.

She only knew symbols and patterns like fish, dove, and flame; she had never seen unicorn symbols in the place where she grew up.

"But it doesn't matter. I'll find a scholar who's here for drinks and music another day and ask him what the unicorn shot with an arrow means." This cheerful and spirited young woman carefully put away the sacred pouch she had originally intended to give to Changsun Qingjing, tied her fallen veil, picked up a silver tray with a grape pattern, hummed a tune from the Tukuzi, and began asking each of the assembled noble young men for a reward...

Author's note: This chapter is dedicated to my idol, Henryk Sienkiewicz.

The historical research in this chapter about Rome is all personal opinion, so please just take it with a grain of salt.

The Luoyang scene is basically a combination of various official and unofficial historical accounts and legends from the time of Nero and Domitian about the burning of the city and John's exile to the boiling oil (let Nero take the blame for everything). After being modified by Henan literati and artists, the story of the Apostle John and the Great Fire of Rome were combined into a Chinese-style story of a tyrant and a saint.

This is also a Chinese-style prophecy.

Guangshen's "great undertaking" began its countdown on this Lantern Festival. It's sliding down a predetermined path of no return.

The achievements of holy rulers are all unique, but the deaths of tyrants are all alike.

Writing about saints is for moral education (to pass censorship), while writing about tyrants is for the purpose of getting drinks and tips (to increase attendance).

Erfeng, Xiao Cao, and Qingjing's interpretations, though biased by conjecture, are also true.

Comparison Table of Dramatic Characters (Translated in Sui and Tang Dynasty Style) and Historical Figures (Modern Translation)

P.S.: Using Nero as a metaphor for Hirokami is the worst time Nero has ever been mocked!

Regarding the religious beliefs of the Sogdians: Nestorianism, Zoroastrianism, and Buddhism are all acceptable.

The naming of Cao Yuhan was similar to the naming of Buddhist deities by Chinese people at that time. Yuhan = John = Jean = Juan = Ivan = Sean = Hans = Yahya

Of course, Xiao Cao and Er Feng are about the same age, born in the late 1990s and early 2000s, so calling him "Cao Yuhan" is also in line with the characteristics of the times (not really).

The source is the Zuo Zhuan, Duke Ai, Year 14: "In the spring of the fourteenth year, during a western hunt in the wilderness, Shusun's charioteer, Chu Shang, captured a unicorn, which he considered an ominous sign, and presented it to the forester. Confucius saw it and said, 'It is a unicorn.' Then he took it."

Whether the unicorn fell into a trap or died from an arrow wound is unknown, but in any case, chaotic times cannot tolerate benevolent beasts. In the Gongyang Commentary, Confucius said that it came at the wrong time.

Therefore, "Sizi" represents a political ideal and an expectation for a new and well-governed world.

The next chapter will be about watching the lanterns. Thank you for your support.