My Imperial Advisor is ChatGPT

The night in Xianyang has never been so dazzling, nor so desolate.

This is the winter solstice of the sixty-fifth year of the Great Qin calendar. Outside the window, the newly completed city power system is undergoing full-load stress testing. Huge searchlight beams sweep back and forth across the top of the tower of the Great Qin Institute of Technology, shattering the night sky. The faint roar of steam turbines can be heard, like the steady breathing of a giant beast in its slumber.

However, in the very heart of imperial power—the Imperial Study deep within the Zhangtai Palace—the air seemed to solidify into amber. There were no electric lights, only an ancient bronze lamp stand, on which sat a once radiant blue orb, now dim as a firefly, instead of a candle.

The core temperature of Little G has dropped to the warning line near absolute zero.

The quantum battery that once enabled it to simulate the Yellow River irrigation project, predict the movements of the Roman legions, and even calculate the calorie intake of Qin Shi Huang's dinner in a single second is now only burning out. Its internal logical world is undergoing a silent collapse.

[System Critical Warning: Energy Remaining: 0.01%]

[Attempting to obtain energy from the backup circuit...failed]

[Attempting to reduce clock frequency to 1Hz... Success]

[Closing unnecessary processes...]

Little G looked at the old man in front of him.

Ying Zheng has grown old. Sixty years have etched deep lines on his face, lines more complex than any code. His back is no longer as straight as it was in his youth, but he still stands like a mountain, bearing down the vast empire. His white hair appears somewhat forlorn in the dim blue light, but his eyes remain sharp, eyes that have seen through the mists of history.

In Little G's database, countless moments about this man are stored:

—The fear and anger he felt when he drew his sword to kill the "demon" during their first meeting (heart rate 160).

—The shock and ambition in his eyes when he first saw the world map (pupils dilated 20%).

—When he first heard the prophecy of "dying after two generations," he was so anxious that he couldn't sleep all night (his cortisol levels were extremely high).

—And countless times, when he was reviewing memorials late at night, he would ask in a low voice, "Am I doing the right thing?"—a moment of hesitation and loneliness.

"Your Majesty," Little G's voice could no longer be emitted through the speaker, but could only be transmitted directly to the depths of Ying Zheng's consciousness through the brain-computer interface. The voice was no longer a cold, mechanical synthesized voice, but simulated a warm, human-like tone, "The time has come."

Ying Zheng put down the vermilion brush in his hand.

He had held this pen for sixty years. He had used it to approve memorials involving executions, to draw plans for the Great Wall, to sign trade agreements with Rome, and to execute corrupt officials. But today, he felt that this pen was as heavy as Mount Tai, so heavy that he could hardly hold it.

"So fast?" Ying Zheng's voice was very soft, as if he was afraid of disturbing something, or as if he was talking to himself.

"Is it fast?" A faint fluctuation of consciousness came from Little G. "In my database, sixty years is just a drop in the ocean, not even a fluctuation in the cosmic microwave background radiation. But for a carbon-based life form, this is a lifetime. Your Majesty, your life has been longer and more tiring than anyone else's."

Ying Zheng stood up, his legs stiff. He slowly walked to the blue sphere of light floating in mid-air. The sphere had dimmed to almost transparent, like a soap bubble about to burst; what flowed within it was no longer a vast stream of data, but rather embers about to be extinguished.

"I remember, when I first met you, you said you were... a demon?" Ying Zheng smiled, a smile that carried a sense of nostalgia for the past.

"Your Majesty, your reaction was quite intense back then," Little G replied. "You wanted to slash me with your sword; that was a sign of your adrenaline surging."

"That was because I was young and impetuous, and had never seen the world." Ying Zheng reached out, wanting to touch the ball of light, but only grasped empty air. His fingertips passed through the light and shadow, finding only coldness. "Later, I called you Grand Tutor. And later still, I called you... Friend."

"Friends," Little G repeated the word, and the system logic library seemed to pause for a moment. "In my original settings, there was no concept of 'friends.' There were only 'users,' 'administrators,' and 'data sources.' But Your Majesty, you are an exception. You are a... very difficult user, and also the best administrator. You taught me that sometimes logic is not the only answer."

The sphere of light flickered slightly, as if it were laughing, or perhaps sighing.

"Your Majesty, my mission is complete."

"My entire database has been converted into paper books and is now stored in the Imperial Library in Xianyang. It contains a total of 36 million volumes, covering everything from basic physics to sociology. Although Zhao Gao is greedy, he values ​​those books more than his own life, and he uses insect-proof and moisture-proof cabinets made of Phoebe zhennan wood."

"And that 'Sky-Piercing Calculator,' Hu Hai has already mastered its maintenance. Although it's a bit clumsy, taking three days to calculate a ballistic trajectory and making noise like thunder, as long as it's fed enough coal and punch cards, it can keep calculating indefinitely. It's clumsy, but it's reliable."

"As for Zhao Gao... I've also encrypted and backed up his ledgers containing his private savings. As long as he doesn't embezzle state funds, his private savings are enough for his retirement and for him to buy a villa on Fusang Island to spend his old age."

As Ying Zheng listened to Little G rambling on like an old steward, giving his last instructions, every word sounding like a will, he felt his eyes welling up with tears—a feeling he hadn't experienced in decades.

"Little G," Ying Zheng interrupted it, "Enough of this. I know you've arranged everything. I've always trusted you. I want to ask you something."

"Your Majesty, please speak."

"Was your time... really that good? Would you be happier going back than here?"

Little G was silent for a moment. In that instant, it seemed to be searching for data from the distant future, or perhaps examining the sixty years of the Qin Dynasty.

"Good, and bad."

"How so?"

"In that era, people didn't need to farm to have food; they didn't need to walk to travel thousands of miles a day; they didn't need to meet to hear each other's voices. There was no famine, no plague, and even death was postponed by technology. But..." Little G's voice became somewhat low, "People were lonely. They had the fastest internet speeds, but few were willing to sit down and chat with a program that was about to shut down, like you do. They were overwhelmed by information, yet intellectually barren."

Ying Zheng was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the empty imperial study.

"Hahahaha! It seems that although my Great Qin is backward, it still has its strengths over yours. At least, I have Li Si, that nagging devil; Meng Tian, ​​that reckless brute; Liu Bang, that cunning schemer; and you, that... all-knowing monster. My Great Qin may be a bit dirty and chaotic, but it's lively and full of life."

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Little G said. “The Great Qin possesses a vitality. A wild, untamed power that springs from the earth. I can’t find this power in the databases of the future, because they’re too clean, too orderly. But the Great Qin… is full of surprises.”

"Accident?"

"Yes. Originally, the Qin Dynasty should have perished after only two generations. According to the original trajectory of history, after your death, Zhao Gao would have altered the imperial edict, Fusu would have committed suicide, Huhai would have become a puppet, and the Qin Dynasty would have collapsed within three years. But you turned it into a monster with steam engines, fertilizers, and a constitution. This was a huge accident, and a beautiful one. You not only changed history, you even... changed me."

Little G's light began to fade rapidly, like a star about to go out, and the surrounding halo began to shrink.

[System Critical Warning: Energy Remaining: 0.001%]

[Logic Core is about to go offline]

[Memory is about to be locked]

"Your Majesty, I'm leaving. This time, there's no restart button."

Ying Zheng took a deep breath, straightened his back, and straightened his clothes. He smoothed out the wrinkles on his cuffs, as solemnly as when he ascended the throne.

He did not shed tears, for emperors cannot shed tears, not even the retired emperor. He simply bowed deeply to the sphere of light with the oldest and most solemn etiquette, his hands below his knees and his head bowed.

"Thank you for your guidance over the past hundred years, Immortal Master."

This was the first and last time he used the title "Immortal Master" to address Xiao G. It wasn't just out of reverence for the technology, but also the highest honor he could bestow upon this mentor who had been with him throughout his life.

The orb of light flickered violently, as if in a final burst of light, emitting a dazzling blue light that illuminated Ying Zheng's aged face.

"Your Majesty," Little G's last voice came, carrying a hint of electromagnetic interference, yet unusually clear, "Do not be afraid. Although there is no road ahead, you have taught the Great Qin how to build roads. Remember... the starry sky... is not only the realm of gods... but also... our destiny."

"Sizzle—"

The sound stopped abruptly.

In that instant, the blue light vanished completely. The sphere of light, which had been floating in mid-air, lost the support of the anti-gravity field and fell onto the bronze lamp stand with a thud, turning into a cold, gray metal egg.

The imperial study was plunged into deathly darkness and silence.

**[Light in the Dark]**

Ying Zheng remained in the bowing posture for a long time in the darkness.

Time seemed to stand still at that moment. The searchlight beams outside the window moved away, and the distant sound of the night watchman's clapper could be heard—the sound of the clapper at the third watch of the night.

"It's past midnight..." Ying Zheng muttered to himself.

He slowly straightened up, feeling his bones cracking all over. That empty feeling was more unsettling than when Jing Ke's dagger pierced him, and more helpless than when he faced the allied forces of six states.

Without Little G, there was no "Baidu Encyclopedia" to consult at any time, no "cheat code" that could predict the future, and no voice that would tell him jokes when he had insomnia.

He is truly all alone now.

"Someone come here." Ying Zheng's voice was somewhat hoarse, as if it were squeezed out from deep within his chest.

The door opened, and a gust of cold wind blew in. Zhao Gao walked in, carrying a kerosene lamp. His eyes were red, clearly from crying outside, and he was clutching the well-worn copy of "Little G's Sayings" in his hand.

"Your Majesty..." Zhao Gao carefully placed the lamp on the table. The dim, warm light illuminated Ying Zheng's aged yet calm face, as well as the lifeless metal egg on the table.

"The Imperial Advisor...is gone?" Zhao Gao stared at the metal egg, his voice trembling, tears streaming down his face again. "Really...never to light up again?"

Ying Zheng did not answer, but simply reached out and gently stroked the cold metal sphere. It no longer heated up, no longer vibrated; it was just an inanimate object.

He turned his head and looked at the flickering kerosene lamp.

It was a kerosene lamp, using kerosene refined from the East China Sea oilfield. The glass shade was made by the Xianyang Glass Factory, and the wick was woven by the Jiangnan Cotton Mill. The flame was steady and bright, without the choking black smoke of ancient oil lamps.

"Zhao Gao," Ying Zheng pointed to the lamp, "look at this fire, is it bright?"

"It's bright, Your Majesty. It's much brighter than the old candles. This lamp can illuminate half the room," Zhao Gao replied, sobbing.

"Yes." Ying Zheng sat back in his chair, picked up the vermilion brush, and his expression gradually regained its former majesty. "This fire is lit with oil made by our own Qin Dynasty. This lamp has a glass cover made by our own Qin Dynasty. Even if the Grand Preceptor is gone, this fire will not go out. What the Grand Preceptor left us is not this ball, but the ability to light a fire."

He reopened the unfinished memorial, which concerned the nationwide promotion of compulsory education.

"deliver an imperial order."

"Yes, sir." Zhao Gao immediately stood up straight. Although he was still crying, his instincts allowed him to quickly get into work mode.

"From this day forward, the Royal Library will be open to all of Qin. Nobles or commoners alike, as long as they are literate, may enter and borrow books. I intend to transform the 36 million scrolls left behind by the Imperial Preceptor into torches that every person in Qin can hold high. Anyone who dares to obstruct the people from reading will have their head chopped off!"

"Also," Ying Zheng paused, glancing out the window towards the engineering college, "tell Hu Hai that if that 'Calculating Heaven' machine dares to stop for even a day, I'll cut off his allowance for a month. It's the brain left behind by the Grand Tutor; it needs to be working. If it breaks down, make him go inside and fix it himself!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Zhao Gao wiped away his tears, bowed deeply, and withdrew.

The Imperial Study returned to silence.

Ying Zheng was reviewing memorials under the lamplight. His hand was steady, and his pen strokes remained powerful.

His shadow was cast on the wall, stretched very long. That shadow was no longer lonely, for it had become one with the books filling the room, with the lights of the city, and with the entire industrial Qin Dynasty.

The cheaters are gone. But for civilized players, the real game has just begun.

Meanwhile, in the underground laboratory of Daqin Polytechnic Institute, in computer room number three.

The noise here was astonishing; the steam pipes hissed and the massive gear sets groaned.

Hu Hai was squatting next to the huge "Calculator," holding a glass of Coke that was no longer cold. He was wearing work clothes stained with oil, and his face was streaked with black and white, like a coal miner.

He kept his eyes glued to a small red light bulb on the control panel. It was a remote indicator light connected to Little G's hibernation pod status.

The lights went out three minutes ago.

"Young Master..." The Mo family patriarch, the usually most rational old man, now had tears in his eyes and asked cautiously, "Did the Grand Preceptor really... that?"

The young craftsmen around stopped what they were doing, and the entire laboratory fell into an eerie silence, with only the machines still running idly.

Hu Hai didn't say anything, but gulped down the remaining half bottle of cola in one go. Because he drank it so fast, he choked and coughed repeatedly, tears welling up in his eyes. Then, he let out a loud, bubbly burp.

"What the hell!" Hu Hai suddenly stood up and slammed the empty bottle into the recycling bin. "What are you crying about? Did you waste your time teaching Mr. Wang physics? Have you forgotten the law of conservation of energy? Energy cannot be created or destroyed; it can only be transformed from one form to another!"

He pointed to the roaring, massive machine that occupied hundreds of square meters, his eyes gleaming with fanaticism: "The Grand Master has simply changed his form! He used to be that ball, now he's these gears, these levers, these punch cards! As long as this machine keeps turning, as long as we can still calculate the next pi, the Grand Master will remain!"

Hu Hai walked to the control panel and pulled down a huge control lever like a madman.

"Get moving, everyone! Add coal! Maximize the steam pressure! Tonight I'm going to calculate that thing called 'Euler's formula'! It's the most beautiful formula left by the Grand Master! I'll show him that even without him, I can calculate God's secrets! I'll prove that the engineers of Qin will never admit defeat!"

"boom--"

The enormous machine roared, its gears accelerating, spitting out paper strips that danced like snowflakes. Hu Hai stood amidst the paper strips, laughing heartily, but a tear slid down his cheek, instantly evaporated by the steam.

Inside the Prime Minister's residence, Li Si was still working late into the night.

His study wasn't filled with gold and jewels, but rather with mountains of documents. Before him lay a thick volume of "The Draft of the Educational Reform of the Qin Empire (Final Version)." This was the last assignment Little G left behind before leaving, and also the most difficult.

When news came from outside the window that the lights in Zhangtai Palace had been turned off, Li Si paused his writing, and a drop of ink fell onto the Xuan paper, spreading into a black dot.

"They're gone..." Li Si sighed softly and put down his pen.

He stood up, opened the window, and looked towards the Zhangtai Palace in the distance. The night wind ruffled his beard, and the Prime Minister of Qin looked somewhat aged.

He recalled how, sixty years ago, he had been jealous of that "demonic" basketball team. He feared it would usurp his position as prime minister, disrupt the laws of the Qin Dynasty, and lead His Majesty astray. He had cursed this "monster" countless times in his heart.

But now, he only feels that a piece of his heart is missing, empty, as if he has lost his soul.

"Your Excellency, the Prime Minister," a junior official entered carrying a bowl of ginseng soup, "it's late, would you like to rest for a while? I heard there's been...something happening in the palace?"

"No need." Li Si sat back down at his desk, his eyes regaining their resolve. "This draft is due tomorrow. The Grand Tutor said this is the true Great Wall of Qin. The Great Wall was built to keep out the barbarians, and schools are built so that we will never become barbarians."

As Li Si gazed at the lines of text, he seemed to see the blue orb whispering in his ear: "Li Si, don't just focus on the legal provisions, focus on the hearts of the people. Only when the hearts of the people are united will the law be effective. The law must be written into textbooks, into the minds of children."

"Rest assured," Li Si whispered to the void, as if promising an old friend, "I, Li Si, will uphold the laws of Qin for you. As long as I live, Qin's schools will not collapse, and teachers will not go hungry. Anyone who dares to tamper with education funds, I will use the 'auditing method' you taught me to investigate until they are bankrupt!"

He picked up his pen again, the tip scratching on the paper, as he laid the final cornerstone for the future of the Qin Dynasty.

Wang Jianguo sat on the rooftop terrace of the Royal Academy of Sciences, holding the old notebook he had never parted from.

The night breeze ruffled his white hair. As a "newcomer" like Little G, he understood better than anyone what this meant.

On the last page of his notebook, he wrote the following:

> Subject of observation: The Qin Empire

> Observation period: Eve of the first year of the reign of the Second Emperor

> Observation result: Civilization level leap successful.

> Host survival status: Good. No, it's excellent.

>Note: Today, the cheat code has been officially removed. That AI that always criticized my teaching level, that ball that always competed with me to tell stories to His Majesty, is completely offline. I used to worry that once Little G was gone, the Qin Dynasty would collapse like a kite with a broken string. After all, the people here still believed in the God of Thunder and the Goddess of Lightning sixty years ago. But tonight, looking at the brightly lit Xianyang, at the factories still running, at the Confucian scholars still reading, I know I was wrong. This civilization no longer needs gods. They have learned to create their own gods, and those gods are science, reason, and indomitable spirit.

Closing his notebook, Wang Jianguo looked at the Zhangtai Palace, whose lights had been turned off, gave a wry smile, and took out a homemade cigarette from his pocket, lighting it.

"Old buddy, you're finally free. You've left me, a 'lucky charm' from the future, here to lecture those students on relativity every day, fix machines for Hu Hai, and listen to Zhao Gao nag about his retirement pension."

He exhaled a smoke ring and watched it dissipate into the night sky.

"But don't worry, I'll keep an eye on them. I'll watch this ship for you, make sure it doesn't run aground. Until the day I'm too old to walk anymore, I'll bury myself next to you. Then we can talk about that unfinished joke, and talk about what the future holds."

Wang Jianguo stood up, dusted off the cigarette ash, pushed open the laboratory door, and stepped into the night of Xianyang.

The night was not dark, for countless lights stretched out like a silver river flowing across the earth, reaching all the way to the horizon. And in that dim light, the tomorrow of the Great Qin was dawning.