My Imperial Advisor is ChatGPT

On the land of Qilu, at the Confucius Temple and Apricot Altar.

A cold wind swirled fallen leaves, creating a somber atmosphere. Hundreds of Confucian scholars, dressed in mourning white, stood with solemn expressions. The leading scholar, Kong Fu (an eighth-generation descendant of Confucius), held bamboo slips and was delivering a passionate final speech.

"The tyrannical Qin Dynasty is wicked! I've heard that Ying Zheng has already dug a huge pit in Xianyang and intends to burn the classics of our ancestors! We scholars will march north to Xianyang today to protect our books with our lives! We may lose our heads, we may shed our blood, but the profound words and righteous principles of the sages must not be forgotten!"

"Let's go together! Let's go together!" The young students were moved to tears, as if they could already see their own heroic scene of blood staining the execution ground. Even in death, they wanted to leave a mark in history as heroes who "criticized Qin."

Just then, a swift horse galloped into the academy. "Report! Urgent news from Xianyang! The imperial court has issued a new decree!"

Kong Fu closed his eyes, looked up to the sky and sighed, "Is it the edict to burn books? Is it the edict to bury scholars alive? Enough, this old man will now..."

Everyone assumed he would pull out a command arrow representing killing from the bamboo tube behind him.

However, the messenger neither took out his command token nor moved the heavy bamboo slips. He simply and lightly pulled a cylindrical object from his robes. Then, he casually flicked it.

"Whoosh—" A crisp sound never heard before. A sheet of snow-white, wide, and flawless "Qin paper" unfolded like a white ribbon in the wind, reflecting a dazzling luster in the sunlight.

In that instant, the once bustling academy fell into a deathly silence.

The scholars' gazes were fixed on that piece of paper, unable to look away even for a moment. Kong Fu, who had been holding a scroll of the Analects with righteous indignation, suddenly trembled as he looked at the heavy, yellowed scroll, riddled with wormholes and rough edges, and then at the light, cloud-like white paper in the messenger's hand.

"What...what is this?" Kong Fu's voice was dry, as if he had a handful of sand stuck in his throat.

The envoy proudly declared, "This is 'Qin paper.' His Majesty found bamboo slips cumbersome and difficult for scholars to handle, so he specially ordered the Imperial Household Department to create this divine object to record the writings of all ages."

"Paper?"

Kong Fu couldn't help but step forward, extending his withered fingers. He wanted to touch it, yet dared not, fearing that the cicada-wing-like thing would shatter at the slightest touch. Finally, his fingertips touched the paper. Smooth. Delicate. Warm. Without the stiffness of bamboo strips, without the softness of silk. It was a touch that seemed born to bear ink.

"This is... something made by the Qin Dynasty?" A hint of confusion flashed in Kong Fu's eyes. In his mind, the Qin Dynasty was a land of tigers and wolves, only knowing how to farm and fight, only knowing how to kill. How could such a crude cultural wasteland possibly create something so exquisite, so civilized, even so "sacred"?

Seeing this, the envoy sneered, took out a brush from his waist, dipped it in thick ink, and began to write with flowing strokes on the suspended paper. The ink instantly seeped into the paper, creating perfect characters that neither spread nor flowed. The black and white were distinct, creating a powerful visual impact.

"Gentlemen," the envoy said, putting down his pen and scanning the room, "His Majesty said that in the past, with bamboo slips, even the most learned scholar could only write a few thousand words. Now, with Qin paper, a single page is worth a whole cartload!" "His Majesty also said: 'I created this not for my own personal use, but for all scholars in the land. I intend to build the Burning-the-Night Pavilion so that this Qin paper can be used to pass down the classics, histories, philosophical works, and literary collections in your hearts for ten thousand generations.'"

"Now, who is willing to go to Xianyang and be the first person to leave their name on paper?"

"Boom—" The Confucian scholars' psychological defenses collapsed at this moment.

They were not afraid of death, because death could leave a lasting legacy. But now, Qin Shi Huang presented them with a "more advanced way of leaving a name." Imagine the glory of having one's writings inscribed on such a divine object, easily spreading throughout the world! Conversely, if they clung to the bamboo slips, even in death, those heavy bamboo pieces would rot and mold over time, forgotten by all.

The fear brought about by this "technological crushing" is even greater than that of swords.

"This...was really made by that tyrant?" A young scholar murmured to himself, the hatred in his eyes fading, replaced by a complex sense of awe. "If he could truly create such a thing, perhaps...he wasn't as despicable as we thought?"

"Yes, those who can create 'paper' must possess a wealth of literary talent..."

Kong Fu looked at his wavering disciples and sighed deeply. He had lost. Not to the Qin army's swords, but to this flimsy piece of paper.

"That's enough." Kong Fu slowly put down the bamboo slip in his hand, the heavy sound of it hitting the ground like the death knell of an old era. He bowed deeply to the messenger.

"This old man... wishes to go to Xianyang. I only ask that Your Majesty grant me a piece of Qin paper so that I may copy a chapter of the Spring and Autumn Annals."

Pei County, county government office.

Xiao He held the thin edict in his hand, his fingers repeatedly stroking the edge of the paper, his eyes shining with an alarming intensity.

"Lord Xiao, is this paper really that miraculous?" Cao Can asked curiously from the side.

"God? This is simply sorcery." Xiao He took a deep breath, held the paper above his head, and held it up to the sunlight. "Cao Can, you and I are scribes, and we know best the hardships of writing documents. In the past, when we were checking fields and households, just carrying those bamboo slips would exhaust several oxen. If there was a fire, it would all be burned to ashes; if it was infested with insects, all our previous efforts would be wasted."

"But look at this piece of paper." Xiao He's voice trembled slightly: "It's as light as a feather, yet it can bear the weight of a thousand pounds. With it, the Qin government's decrees will travel from Xianyang in the morning to the entire county by evening. Taxes, corvée labor, and criminal law will all become clear, fast, and impossible to hide."

"This is the real 'Skynet'."

Xiao He put down the paper, his gaze turning towards Xianyang, a look of submission appearing in his eyes for the first time. "Before, I thought the First Emperor was merely imposing. Now... I think he is unfathomable."

"Is someone who could come up with something like this really an ordinary person?" "Perhaps, following someone like this, the world... could truly be brought into great order."

In the corner, Liu Bang watched Xiao He's utterly bewildered expression. Though Xiao He was still chewing dog meat and muttering, "It's just a piece of white cloth," a hint of seriousness flashed in his shrewd eyes. He instinctively sensed that the man sitting in the Xianyang Palace seemed to have become even more difficult to deal with than before. The Qin dynasty seemed to have become even more unbreakable because of this piece of paper.

Inside a certain academy.

"His Majesty intends to establish the 'Pavilion of Burning the Lamp to Keep Attention' in Xianyang. He will recruit literate people from all over the land, regardless of their background or school of thought..."

"As long as we can compile a qualified 'Great Qin Sow Postpartum Care'... no, I mean 'Great Qin Agricultural and Animal Husbandry Encyclopedia', or 'Great Qin Compendium of Materia Medica'..."

"Then you can enter the cabinet as an official! Enjoy a 'state stipend'! And..." A scholar swallowed hard, "On the day the book is completed, His Majesty will personally inscribe it, have it engraved on a stone tablet, and ensure that the book is circulated throughout the world, and the author's name is remembered for generations!"

"Master...Master." A young scholar timidly raised his hand. "My elderly mother is still alive, and my ancestors for three generations were all skilled pig farmers...I think...I can write this 'Complete Guide to Agriculture and Animal Husbandry'?"

The master was so angry his beard trembled: "Nonsense! How can a scholar write such low-class stuff! This is bait from that tyrant! It's an insult!"

"But..." the disciple pointed to the bottom half of the paper, "it says that if you don't go to write books, you have to either work on the Great Wall or work in the Imperial Household Department making paper..."

The master took the paper and looked at it again and again. After a while, the tragic look on his face disappeared, replaced by a more complex struggle, the kind of entanglement that belongs to "working class".

"Ahem." The master straightened his clothes and put the paper into his pocket. "Actually... the ancient sage once said, 'If one does not work with one's four limbs and cannot distinguish the five grains, who can be called a teacher?' Studying agriculture and sericulture is also for the sake of all people."

"Let's go! To Xianyang!" The master waved his hand. "I want to see if this tyrannical Qin dynasty's 'fees' are enough!"

In front of the notice board in Xialiang Village

There was no earth-shattering reaction. Only an old farmer stood shakily in front of the notice board at the village entrance. In the past, the notices here were all written in incomprehensible seal script, and fierce-looking officials stood beside them.

Today, the officials, though still fierce, now carried a stick. Pointing at the large white sheet of paper, they read aloud: "His Majesty has decreed! From now on, anyone engaged in repairing the Great Wall or performing corvée labor who encounters heavy rain and flooding will not be considered late! They will not be beheaded! At most... at most, they will be punished by having to work an extra month!"

"And another thing! Anyone who can make a new plow based on these blueprints (the curved plow) will be rewarded with meat by the government!"

The old farmer was stunned. Tears welled up in his cloudy eyes, and he turned to his son beside him, asking, "Ergou, the official said... no more beheadings if it rains?"

"Yes, Father! We won't kill them!"

"Then...should we still hide the sickle under the bed?"

"Don't hide it! Dad, the official said that the new plow will save effort. Let's hurry home and try it out! With this plow, our two acres of land will yield a much better harvest this year!"

The wind swept across the fields, dispersing the resentment that had accumulated over the years. Although the harsh laws and severe punishments remained in place, at the very bottom of this land, the anger that was about to ignite was quietly extinguished by this sudden "warm water."