My Imperial Advisor is ChatGPT

The autumn wind in Shangjun was fiercer than in Xianyang, carrying the unique sandy feel of the frontier, stinging the face.

The grand procession did not drive directly into Meng Tian's military camp, but stopped at Hongshixia, thirty miles away from the camp.

Ying Zheng sat in his rumbling chariot, coldly gazing at this desolate land through the cracks in the windows. This was the Great Wall's defensive line, the front line of Qin's resistance against the Xiongnu, and also the place where his "benevolent" eldest son, Fusu, had been exiled.

"Little G." Ying Zheng did not turn around, still holding the bamboo scroll about the "Statistics on Military Supplies for the Qin Border Defense" in his hand, the scroll was slightly deformed from his grip.

The light screen silently appeared in the dark corner of the carriage, its brightness dimmed to avoid attracting the attention of the guards outside.

[Yes, Your Majesty. The Shangjun camp is just ahead. According to GPS, the target, Fusu, is 15 kilometers away as the crow flies.]

The system detected slightly elevated levels of your cortisol (stress hormone). Although you appear calm, your micro-expressions suggest... you are nervous?

Would you like me to play "Father-Son Communication Skills: How to Avoid Awkward Silences" for you?

"Shut up." Ying Zheng coldly interrupted it. "I'm not going to visit relatives, I'm going to inspect goods."

He tossed the bamboo slips back onto the table, his eyes revealing a chilling scrutiny.

"You said that Fusu in history slit his own throat upon receiving a forged imperial edict." Ying Zheng's voice was low, as if he were talking to himself, or questioning the void. "I used to think that was his 'filial piety.' But these past two days, I've thought about it repeatedly and I feel that's not right."

What's wrong?

"This isn't filial piety, it's stupidity." A cruel smile curled at the corner of Ying Zheng's lips. "And it's cowardice. As the eldest son of Qin, commanding 300,000 Meng family troops, how could he not even have the courage to verify the truth? Even if I really wanted to kill him, if he had even a shred of imperial wisdom, he should have led his troops back to Xianyang to question me! If it were me, I would never die; I would storm into the palace and demand an explanation!"

A flame flickered in Ying Zheng's eyes, a testament to the extreme utilitarianism of Legalism. In his view, a death without resistance was the greatest desecration of power. How could someone who couldn't even save his own life possibly protect this vast empire?

"If he's still that good-for-nothing who only reads pedantic books and spouts empty platitudes about benevolence and morality..." Ying Zheng's fingers lightly tapped the hilt of the Tai'a sword. "Then I'd rather depose him. Great Qin doesn't need a sage; Great Qin needs a wolf."

[System notification: Your educational philosophy is very... Spartan. However, please note that according to historical records, Fusu enjoyed high prestige and was deeply loved by the people.]

"Love and respect?" Ying Zheng sneered. "Can love and respect fill your stomach? Can love and respect stop the Xiongnu's swords? What do the common people know? They praise whoever gives them sweets. But this world is supported by strict laws and severe punishments, not by sweets."

The convoy continued on its way, but Ying Zheng issued a strange order.

He had the main force stationed at Hongshixia, and only took Li Si, his personal guards, and the unseen "ghost strategist" with him. They changed to light carriages and quietly made their way to Meng Tian's central command tent.

He's going to launch a surprise attack.

He wanted to see for himself what his good son was doing, where he couldn't see him.

……

Outside the main gate of the Shangjun camp.

Although it was already late in the day, bugles still sounded and drills echoed throughout the military camp. Meng Tian was extremely strict in disciplining his troops, something Ying Zheng trusted.

However, when Ying Zheng, dressed in civilian clothes, stood on a high slope outside the camp and looked down, his brows instantly furrowed into a deep frown.

In a corner of the drill ground, unlike the other soldiers, they were not practicing their combat skills.

A group of ragged laborers were sitting together. In the middle of the group, a young man dressed in a plain robe and without armor was holding a ceramic bowl, seemingly feeding water to an injured laborer.

The young man had a handsome face and a melancholy air about him, which was none other than Fusu.

Fusu's voice faintly drifted on the wind: "...This is 'Gathering Ferns' from the Book of Songs, 'When I went away, the willows were swaying; now I return, the rain and snow are falling.' You all left home to guard the frontier, though it is hard, it is for the peace of the world..."

Upon witnessing this scene, Ying Zheng's blood pressure spiked.

"What is he doing?" Ying Zheng pointed downwards, his finger trembling slightly. "He's the military supervisor! The eldest prince of Qin! Instead of studying maps and overseeing military preparations, he's here reciting poetry to these peasants?"

[Little G's Analysis: This is a "populist approach." In modern politics, this behavior usually garners extremely high approval ratings. This is called "building empathy."]

"What kind of sentiment is this!" Ying Zheng couldn't help but curse. "A merciful ruler cannot command an army! I don't object to him eating and living with the soldiers; that's to win their hearts. But for him to put on such a weak and sorrowful appearance, and recite such depressing poems about homesickness! This is undermining the morale of the army! If the Xiongnu were to attack now, could these weeping soldiers still hold their spears firmly?"

Ying Zheng didn't look at it again and strode towards the gate.

"Li Si! Show your badge! Enter the camp!"

……

The atmosphere inside the central command tent was extremely tense.

Meng Tian, ​​dressed in military attire, knelt on one knee, fine beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Fusu, on the other hand, knelt in the center, his head bowed low, not daring to look directly at the imposing figure above him.

Ying Zheng sat high on the command post, toying with a command arrow in his hand, but did not give the order to rise.

The only sound inside the tent was the crackling of the candlelight; this silence was more suffocating than thunder.

"The military supervisor of Shangjun, Fusu," Ying Zheng finally spoke, his voice so calm that it revealed neither joy nor anger.

"Your son... Your subject is here." Fusu's voice trembled slightly.

"From what I've seen along the way, the army's discipline is quite impressive; Meng Tian deserves credit." Ying Zheng glanced at Meng Tian. "Rise."

Meng Tian breathed a sigh of relief, thanked the emperor and got up, but dared not speak, only looking at Fusu on the ground with worry.

"As for you..." Ying Zheng's gaze fell on Fusu, suddenly becoming sharp as a knife, "I sent you to Shangjun to teach you how to lead troops and how to kill. But what you've done is learn how to be a woman."

Fusu suddenly looked up, a stubborn glint in his eyes: "Father! Your son has not acted like a woman! Your son only felt unbearable pity for the suffering of the laborers. Mencius said, 'If a ruler regards his subjects as his hands and feet, then the subjects will regard their ruler as their heart and soul.' If one does not understand the plight of the people, how can the soldiers be willing to die for their country?"

"Mencius?" Ying Zheng sneered, a contempt that seeped into his very bones. "It's those pedantic scholars again, spouting platitudes about benevolence and righteousness. Tell me, after all your pity, have the laborers' wounds healed? Have the Xiongnu retreated? How many people did that bowl of water you gave them save?"

Fusu blushed: "Although I cannot save ten thousand people, saving even one person is an act of kindness..."

"madness!"

Ying Zheng suddenly threw the command arrow in his hand to the ground, making a crisp "crack" sound.

"What you call benevolence is petty benevolence, the benevolence of a woman! True benevolence is about stabilizing the nation and securing the country! When I built the Great Wall, a thousand died, but it saved millions within the pass from slaughter! That is true benevolence!"

Ying Zheng stood up and walked step by step to Fusu. The immense pressure made Fusu almost suffocate.

He decided to conduct a test. A brutal test.

"Fusu," Ying Zheng looked down at him, "If it were today, I would issue you a decree."

Ying Zheng's voice slowed, each word like a poisoned nail: "I say, you have undermined the morale of the army here, not only failing to achieve anything but also committing a crime. I bestow upon you a sword, to be used to commit suicide. You... what will you do?"

The air inside the tent was instantly sucked out.

Meng Tian's eyes widened in horror, and he instinctively tried to step forward: "Your Majesty! You mustn't..."

Ying Zheng stopped Meng Tian with a cold look.

Fusu froze, looking up at his father. There was no joking in his eyes, only a bottomless, icy pool.

The specter of history overlaps at this moment.

After a moment of deathly silence, the light in Fusu's eyes dimmed. He slowly bowed, his head hitting the ground heavily, his voice choked with a desperate obedience: "Father... Father is the ruler of the world. If a father commands his son to die, the son dares not disobey. If my death can appease Father's wrath, I... obey the decree."

As he spoke, he actually reached for the sword at his waist!

"Clang!"

A foot kicked Fusu hard in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

The sword, still sheathed, slid to the side.

Ying Zheng withdrew his foot, his chest heaving violently, the rage in his eyes almost burning through the tent.

He wasn't angry because Fusu wanted to commit suicide, but because he was actually so "compliant"!

"Useless! You truly are useless!" Ying Zheng roared, pointing at Fusu lying on the ground. "You didn't even ask a single question? You didn't even dare to defend yourself? If I were truly senile, or misled by treacherous people, would you just slit your own throat like that? And hand over this great empire to others?!"

"This isn't filial piety! You're just running away! You're using death to shirk responsibility!"

Fusu clutched his chest, staring in astonishment at his enraged father. He had been scolded countless times throughout his life, but he had never seen his father so out of control, nor had he ever heard such…unethical teachings.

"Father... could it be... could it be that disobeying the imperial decree is the wrong thing to do...?"

"Disobey the imperial decree?" Ying Zheng coldly straightened his robes, the anger in his eyes instantly subsiding, transforming him back into the shrewd and calculating emperor. "Whether you disobey the imperial decree or not depends on whether you have the brains to judge it! It depends on whether you have the ability to do so!"

He turned around, his back to Fusu, took a deep breath, and silently said in his heart, "Little G".

"Yes, Your Majesty. That kick just now... was very cool. But for the sake of your joint health, I suggest you use a whip next time."

[By the way, it seems that Young Master Fusu's worldview has collapsed. Now is the best time to rebuild it.]

"Rebuild?" Ying Zheng sneered inwardly. "I not only want to rebuild, I want to give him a brain transplant."

Ying Zheng sat back down in his command seat, his voice regaining its composure, but this composure was even more frightening than his previous rage.

"From this day forward, Fusu is forbidden from contacting any Confucian classics. Burn all the bamboo slips in your tent."

Fusu was greatly alarmed: "Father! There are sages and wise men in books..."

"Shut up. From now on, you only have one teacher."

Ying Zheng pointed to his head, then to the table in front of him.

"Little G, project... no, print out that copy of the 'Southern County Grain Audit Report' and that 'Curved Plow Promotion Plan'."

"Your Majesty, I cannot print it. But I can have Li Si transcribe the data."

An hour later.

A pile of bamboo slips filled with numbers and charts was thrown in front of Fusu.

"Don't you like benevolence and righteousness? Don't you like saving people?" Ying Zheng pointed to the pile of bamboo slips. "Stop feeding them water; that won't save them. Show me these."

"This is the number of people who starved to death in Nanjun last year. This is a data point on reduced grain production due to outdated farming tools. This is the hard-earned money of the people that corrupt officials swallowed up by falsifying accounts."

Ying Zheng's voice was filled with the cold power of data.

"Fusu, look carefully. Your Book of Songs can't save them. What can save them is my severe punishments, chopping off the hands of corrupt officials! It's the new agricultural tools I'm promoting, making the fields grow more grain!"

Fusu picked up a scroll of bamboo slips, his hands trembling.

The numbers above are shocking. In the past, he only read the books of sages and knew only that "the people suffer," but he had never seen so directly how much "suffering" there was, how much "death" there was, and "why" they died.

"Father... this 'curved plow'... can it really increase production by 30%?" Fusu's voice was somewhat hoarse.

"Whether it's true or not, try it yourself."

Ying Zheng stood up, walked to Fusu, and this time did not kick him, but looked down at him.

"I will not kill you, nor will I cripple you. I will give you three months."

"For the next three months, take off this long robe and put on a short tunic. Take the blueprints for this curved plow and go to the villages around Shangjun. I don't want you to feed the people water; I want you to lead those people to build this plow and turn the land over!"

"If, three months from now, the winter wheat planting area in Shangjun has not increased by 30%, or if I hear you reciting sentimental poems somewhere..."

A fierce glint flashed in Ying Zheng's eyes.

"Then you really don't need to come back. Go live as a commoner and spend your life reciting poetry."

Having said that, Ying Zheng waved his sleeve and said, "Meng Tian, ​​keep a close eye on him. If he dares to slack off, punish him according to military law!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Meng Tian replied loudly, a hint of joy flashing in his eyes. He could tell that His Majesty was tempering the young master, teaching him the true "art of governing the world."

……

Late at night.

Inside the palace in Hongshixia, a cold wind howled.

Ying Zheng did not rest. As a typical workaholic, he was currently facing the light screen with a furrowed brow.

After venting his emotions during the day, he had calmed down, but suspicion and anxiety had taken over again.

"Little G".

【exist. 】

"The things you showed me today about 'micro-expressions' and 'psychological profiling' were indeed somewhat useful," Ying Zheng said, twirling a bronze jue in his hand. "But I'm still not entirely at ease."

[Are you worried about Fusu?]

"Although Fusu is stubborn, I can change his mind. What I'm worried about is... my health."

Ying Zheng subconsciously touched his chest. Although he had stopped taking the pills and drunk hot water, and felt much better, he could still feel a weariness that seeped into his bones. It was the erosion of time, the aging that mortals cannot resist.

"In your time, the average lifespan was eighty years." Ying Zheng's eyes gleamed with a longing for eternity. "Besides avoiding poison, there must be other methods. I don't want those deceptive elixirs; I want real medical skills."

Yes, there are. The modern medical system is vast, encompassing everything from antibiotics to surgery...

However, Your Majesty, limited by the industrial base of the Qin Dynasty, you cannot manufacture 99% of modern medicines. There are no microscopes, no chemical plants, and no penicillin.

"So, am I just going to wait to die?" Ying Zheng's voice instantly turned cold.

No. There is a path we can take.

Although we can't manufacture antibiotics, we can manage "public health."

The biggest cause of death in the Qin Dynasty now is not old age, but parasites, plagues, and infections. For example, do you feel that the people of Qin, whether nobles or commoners, generally suffer from bloating and emaciation?

Ying Zheng nodded.

Those are parasites. Because you drink untreated water and eat raw meat.

Furthermore, while Xianyang City has a sewage system, it is far too rudimentary. The cohabitation of humans and livestock, coupled with improper waste disposal, creates a breeding ground for plague.

If you wish to extend your lifespan and double the population of the Qin Dynasty, what you need is not a miracle doctor, but a "hygiene campaign."

[Project Name: Patriotic Health Campaign (Qin Dynasty Version)]

[Key points: Drink boiled water, repair toilets, exterminate rats, and wash hands frequently.]

Hearing these incredibly rustic terms, Ying Zheng frowned even more deeply: "Building toilets? Exterminating rats? You call this a policy for governing a country?"

This is so un-"highbrow"! He wanted to seek immortality and medicine, to worship heaven and earth, but this artificial intelligence is making him manage toilets?

Your Majesty, the Black Death killed a third of Europe's population, caused by rats and fleas. Cholera destroyed countless armies, caused by drinking contaminated water.

If you want prosperity to last forever, you must start with this dirtiest and smelliest place. That's science.

Moreover, this task can be handled by Li Si. He's eager to prove himself, and this kind of troublesome and tedious work is perfect for testing his execution skills.

Ying Zheng remained silent for a long time.

He was weighing the options. His Legalist mindset led him to focus solely on the outcome. If these humble actions could truly increase lifespan and population...

"it is good."

A resolute glint flashed in Ying Zheng's eyes. To survive, for the sake of Qin, he would accept anything, even catching rats himself (which was of course impossible), let alone building toilets.

"I will drive back to Xianyang starting tomorrow."

Ying Zheng stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the dark night sky in the north.

"Fusu is farming, Huhai is doing his homework, Zhao Gao is building some kind of steam engine, and Li Si is going to fix the toilet..."

Although what everyone did sounded unbelievable and completely out of character for the Qin Dynasty.

But Ying Zheng inexplicably felt that the night in Qin seemed less oppressive than before.

"Little G".

【Um? 】

"I think that although you are talkative and have no divine power, you are not entirely useless."

Thank you for your kind words. It is my honor to be a shovel in your hands.

"A shovel?" Ying Zheng laughed, a laugh filled with an air of domineering power. "No, you are my whetstone."

"I will use you to sharpen this rusty sword of Qin to an unparalleled edge. It will slay gods and Buddhas alike."

"Even if it's Death itself, I'll still poke a hole in it!"

The wind whistled through the windowpanes, making a whooshing sound, as if the torrent of history was being forced to change course.