My Imperial Advisor is ChatGPT

The first winter after Little G left was exceptionally cold.

The heating system in Xianyang has been fully operational for some time, with massive hot water pipes acting like the city's veins to deliver warmth to every household. But inside these warm homes, an unseen gloom is quietly brewing.

Xia Wuqie is now the dean of the Royal Medical Academy of Qin, but he still maintains the habit of personally seeing patients every day.

Today, a special patient came to his clinic—a sailor who had just returned from the Persian Gulf.

"Achoo!"

The sailor sneezed loudly, the droplets forming a rainbow in the sunlight. His face was flushed, he was shivering, and the thermometer read 39.5 degrees Celsius.

"Dean," the sailor said weakly, "I felt something was wrong when I was on the ship. At first, it was a sore throat, then my whole body ached, like I'd been beaten up by a hundred Roman gladiators. There were a dozen or so people on the ship like that, and two... died before we even reached the shore."

Xia Wuqie's heart sank.

He picked up the stethoscope (which was also based on the blueprints left by Little G and manufactured by the Mo family) and placed it on the sailor's chest. The sound coming from the lungs was like a bellows being pulled, full of wet rales.

"This is..." Xia Wuqie removed his stethoscope, his expression grave. "This isn't a common cold. Is it... the flu? Or something worse?"

He quickly put on a mask and rubber gloves (the rubber came from Southeast Asia, and the gloves were products of Daqin First Rubber Factory), and ordered his assistant: "Immediately seal off the clinic! Notify the Xianyang Epidemic Prevention Station! Everyone on this ship must be quarantined! Also, send this patient's sputum sample to the lab and examine it under a microscope! I need to know what kind of bacteria it is, or... a virus!"

Although Little G is gone, Xia Wuqie has already memorized its "Fundamentals of Microbiology" and "Handbook for the Prevention and Control of Infectious Diseases." He knows that in this era of nascent global trade, viruses often outrun gold.

Inside Zhangtai Palace, Ying Zheng frowned as he looked at the urgent report handed to him by Xia Wuqie.

"Persian fever? Is that the name you came up with?" Ying Zheng asked.

"Reporting to Your Majesty," Xia Wuqie said in a muffled voice through three layers of masks, "according to epidemiological investigations, the first cases all came from that cargo ship 'Persian.' Moreover... this disease is extremely contagious, even faster than smallpox back then. Currently, there are more than three hundred suspected cases in Xianyang City, and the mortality rate... is close to 5%."

5%.

This number might not have been significant in ancient times, but in the densely populated and highly mobile industrial Qin Dynasty today, it signifies a catastrophe.

"As Little G said before," Ying Zheng put down the urgent report, his gaze deep, "globalization is like opening a window, letting in fresh air, but also flies and mosquitoes. Now, this mosquito has bitten the neck of Great Qin."

In the past, Ying Zheng might have ordered a sacrifice to Heaven, or driven the sick out of the city to fend for themselves. But now, he knew that doing so would be pointless.

Viruses do not believe in God, nor are they afraid of death.

"Issue the decree!" Ying Zheng stood up, his voice calm and decisive. "Activate the Qin Dynasty's Level One Epidemic Prevention Plan. Martial law throughout the city! Schools closed! Factories... except those producing masks and medicines, all cease production!"

"But Your Majesty," Li Si said anxiously from the side, "this work stoppage means a loss of millions of Qin coins every day! And the stock market..."

"Li Si!" Ying Zheng interrupted him sharply, "Is money more important, or life? Money can be earned back, but without people, Qin is just an empty city! Anyone who dares to profit from the nation's misfortune at this time, I will make them the 'national misfortune'!"

Meanwhile, in Xianyang's commercial street.

Liu Bang was squatting at the entrance of his "Royal Pharmacy," looking at the long queue with a worried expression.

"Boss! Do you still have any face masks?"

"Boss! Do you still have that 'Banlangen' medicine?"

"Boss! I heard that drinking strong liquor can kill viruses, give me two jars!"

Liu Bang sighed and threw the orange peel in his hand into the trash can.

"Stop pushing! Stop pushing!" Liu Bang shouted through a megaphone, "Five masks per person! Two packets of Banlangen granules per person! As for that person wanting to buy alcohol, that's a rumor! Drinking too much will only cause alcohol poisoning, it won't kill the virus!"

"Old Xiao," Liu Bang said, turning to Xiao He behind him, "business is booming, but why am I so worried? If the whole city falls ill, who will buy my hamburgers? Who will work in my factory?"

"So," Xiao He pushed up his glasses, "we have to do something. I just did some calculations. If we take out all the fabric in our inventory and make masks to distribute to the people in the slums for free, we'll lose some money on the fabric, but we can preserve the Qin's labor force. That's called a 'strategic investment'."

Liu Bang's eyes lit up: "You, Lao Xiao, are so quick-witted! Let's do it! Also, mobilize all the trucks in our fleet to help the Imperial Hospital transport medicine! I'll cover the fuel costs! This is called... this is called 'corporate social responsibility'! We'll have the newspapers sing its praises!"

So, in that cold winter, the citizens of Xianyang witnessed a strange scene: Liu Bang, the richest man in the Qin Dynasty, no longer transported expensive silk and spices, but instead his convoy was laden with masks and disinfectant, shuttling through every corner of the city. Banners hung on the carriages: "Qin will prevail! The virus will be defeated! The Liu Group stands with you!"

The underground laboratory of the Royal Medical College was brightly lit.

There is no day or night here, only a microscopic world under a microscope.

Wearing protective clothing, Wang Jianguo sat in front of an electron microscope like an astronaut. This was the first version he had just handcrafted using a "differential engine" to assist in the design. Although the resolution was not high, it was still usable.

"Found it." Wang Jianguo's voice was a little hoarse.

On the screen, round spheres with spikes appeared.

"It's the coronavirus." Wang Jianguo took a deep breath. "Although it has mutated, the structure is still the same. It seems that the information left by Little G was correct. This thing broke out with the cold wave and the gathering of people."

"Can it be cured?" Xia Wuqie asked anxiously from the side.

"There's no specific cure for the virus; we can only rely on our immunity," Wang Jianguo shook his head. "But we can treat the symptoms. Reduce fever, reduce inflammation, prevent complications. And... vaccines."

"A vaccine?" Xia Wuqie's eyes lit up. "Like smallpox?"

"The principle is the same, but this time it's more difficult." Wang Jianguo pointed to the spheres. "We need to extract the protein coat of the virus and make it into an inactivated vaccine. This will take time, possibly three months or even half a year."

"Six months..." Xia Wuqie gritted his teeth, "Six months is too long! Is there a faster way?"

"Yes." Wang Jianguo paused for a moment, "Serum therapy. Antibodies are extracted from the serum of recovered patients and injected into critically ill patients. This is currently the fastest and most effective method. But..."

"But what?"

"But we need someone willing to donate blood," Wang Jianguo said, looking at Xia Wuqie. "And it needs to be a large amount of blood."

Xia Wuqie paused for a moment, then smiled. He took off his mask, revealing a face that was tired but determined.

"Dean Wang, you underestimate the people of Qin. They'd give their lives for a chance to save someone's life, let alone a drop of blood!"

On another front in the fight against the epidemic, Hu Hai is leading his "engineering dream team" in hardcore operations.

Their mission was to build makeshift hospitals.

"This ventilation system is terrible!" Hu Hai yelled, pointing at the blueprints. "Negative pressure! Don't you understand negative pressure? It means that the air inside can only be filtered and exhausted, and the outside air can only be filtered and drawn in! Otherwise, this hospital is a gas chamber!"

"But sir," the craftsman said, aggrieved, "we don't have that many high-powered fans!"

"If we don't have them, we'll build them!" Hu Hai took the wrench that had been with him for many years from his belt. "Take those steam turbines that were supposed to be installed on the warships! Just change the fan blades, right? What do we need warships for now? Viruses aren't afraid of cannons!"

Three days.

In just three days, a huge temporary hospital made of steel frame and canvas rose from the ground on an open space on the outskirts of Xianyang.

It has an independent water and electricity supply system, negative pressure wards, and even... an automatic medicine delivery robot (which is actually a food delivery cart with a modified track).

When the first batch of patients with mild symptoms were transferred in, they were stunned. There were no dark and damp straw mats, only clean iron beds, bright electric lights, and that tin monster that beeped and beeped in the corridor, bringing hot porridge and medicine.

"This...this must be where the immortals live, right?" an old farmer asked, trembling.

"What kind of deity!" Hu Hai, wearing a gas mask, spoke in a muffled voice, "This is science! Go inside and lie down properly, don't wander around! Anyone who dares to spit on the ground, I'll throw them out!"

This war without gunfire lasted for an entire winter.

Without Little G's God-like perspective or future miracle cures, the people of Qin relied on their own hands and wisdom to withstand this wave of impact.

The once bustling commercial districts were deserted, with only "epidemic prevention patrol teams" (composed of retired elderly men and women) wearing red armbands patrolling: "Hey you! Wear your mask properly! Don't show your nose!"

Although classes were suspended at school, learning did not stop. Daqin Radio broadcast "online classes" every day, with teachers lecturing into microphones and children listening attentively in front of their radios. Although they couldn't see the teachers' faces, the classical Chinese phrases and expressions ensured that the flame of knowledge continued to burn brightly during the pandemic.

Inside the factory, although most production lines were shut down, the machines in the mask factory, pharmaceutical factory, and fertilizer factory never stopped. The workers were under "closed-loop management," living and eating in the factory, working in three shifts, so that the machines never stopped even when the workers rested.

"For the Qin Dynasty! For survival!"

This is the simplest slogan hanging in the workshop.

The turning point came on the day of Lichun (the beginning of spring).

The first batch of convalescent serum was extracted and tested in the intensive care unit.

The sailor who was initially infected, despite having severely damaged lungs, had his fever subside the day after receiving the serum injection.

When Xia Wuqie walked out of the intensive care unit, took off his mask, and gave a thumbs-up to his anxiously waiting family members outside, the entire corridor erupted in cheers.

There were no cheers, only the suppressed cries of sobs.

Those were tears of joy.

Subsequently, large-scale serum therapy began to be promoted. More and more recovered patients rolled up their sleeves and headed to blood donation vans. Among them were nobles, commoners, merchants, and beggars. In the face of red blood, all class and identity disappeared, leaving only the survival instinct of the same species.

**[Epilogue: Springtime and Blossoms]**

Three months later, the cherry blossoms in Xianyang bloomed.

The day the lockdown was lifted was not the day of the celebrations I had imagined.

People stepped out of their homes, took off the masks they had worn for three months, and took a deep breath of the air filled with the fragrance of flowers. Then, they smiled at each other.

It's nice to be alive.

On the terrace of Zhangtai Palace, Ying Zheng looked at the city that had regained its vitality and at the traffic jams on the streets, and let out a long sigh of relief.

"Little G," Ying Zheng whispered to the void, "Do you see? We didn't all die without you."

"Your Majesty," Wang Jianguo approached, holding a latest statistical report, "the epidemic is basically under control. Although... we have lost more than 5,000 compatriots, compared to the previous plagues that left 'nine out of ten houses empty,' this is already a miracle."

"Five thousand people..." Ying Zheng's eyes darkened. "Erect a monument for them at the foot of Mount Li. Carve their names on it. They are not just numbers; they are the people of Great Qin."

"As you command."

"Furthermore," Ying Zheng turned around, "this pandemic has taught me one thing. Science is not omnipotent, but without science, nothing is possible. If it weren't for those masks, those microscopes, those ventilators... the Qin Dynasty might have truly perished this time."

"so?"

"Therefore, double next year's research funding again." Ying Zheng waved his hand. "Especially that 'vaccine research center,' pour money into it like it's going to explode! I don't want to see this kind of thing keeping me up at night again!"

Wang Jianguo smiled: "Your Majesty is wise. Actually... the vaccine is almost ready. Moreover, this epidemic has brought an unexpected benefit."

"What did you gain?"

"Public health awareness," Wang Jianguo pointed downstairs, "Look, now people don't shake hands when they meet, they greet each other with a cupped-hand salute. They use serving chopsticks when eating. People spitting on the ground has almost disappeared. These were bad habits that hadn't been broken for many years, but the virus has cured them."

Ying Zheng was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"Hahaha! Looks like this virus is a 'strict teacher' too! It's just that the tuition fee... is too expensive."

**[Bonus Content: Zhao Gao's Diary]**

Deep within the royal archives, later generations discovered a diary left from this period, authored by Zhao Gao.

*In the winter of the XXth year of the Qin Dynasty calendar.*

*This is terrifying! That little thing called a virus is even more ruthless than the remnants of the Six Kingdoms! You can't see it or touch it, but you get infected with just one breath.*

*I've been staying home for the past two months, sealing all the doors and windows with tape, and I haven't even dared to order my favorite hot pot noodles. Every day I've been scrubbing the floor with bleach (that smell is awful!), until the floor is practically peeling off.*

However, this time, I did something worthwhile. I donated all 10,000 jin (5,000 kg) of garlic I had stored. Although Dean Wang said garlic can't kill the virus, eating too much of it will cause bad breath, and people won't dare to approach you. Couldn't that be considered a form of 'biosecurity'?

*Little G, may your spirit in heaven protect me and quickly send this plague away. I still want to live a few more years to spend all the money I haven't spent yet.*

*By the way, I heard the vaccine is out today. I've decided to be the first to get vaccinated. I'm afraid of the pain, but I'm even more afraid of dying. Only by living can I continue to serve His Majesty (and money).*

*——The last words of Zhao Gao, the most cowardly (crossed out) official of the Qin Dynasty who cherished his life (if he hadn't died, it wouldn't have been his last words)*