Governing the country, enriching the people, an unparalleled imperial tutor

Lin Yanzhou's last stop on this trip was faster than the previous ones.

A small town called Jieshi was situated on the north bank of the riverbed. The city walls were not high, and the edges were patched with rubble in a few places. The town lord was a man in his forties, his face roughened by wind and sand, wearing an old robe. After hearing the purpose of the visit, he hesitated for a while.

Then, pointing at Aygul, he asked, "From which country did you bring her back?" Lin Yanzhou didn't answer. Aygul spoke up herself, saying something in the local language. Her voice wasn't loud, and Lin Yanzhou didn't understand what she said. But after listening, the city lord remained silent for a while, then took the letter of surrender and signed it.

That evening, Lin Yanzhou stayed in an empty courtyard on the west side of Jieshi City. The kang (heated brick bed) was already heated, with an old felt mat covering the edge, and an oil lamp in the corner of the wall bathed the entire room in a warm yellow light.

Ayiguli sat at the end of the kang (a heated brick bed), while Xiaolan leaned against the edge, clutching an old copper hairpin. Lin Yanzhou lay on the kang, unable to sleep. He glanced out the window; the night was deep, the moonlight mostly obscured by clouds, with only a small patch of sky above the courtyard wall letting in a faint glow. Ayiguli's fingers rested on his wrist; he sensed she wasn't asleep, but she didn't move.

He closed his eyes and began to recall how he got there. A construction machinery salesman, dressed in old work clothes, squatting by the roadside eating a boxed lunch, was yelled at and slammed on the table when he was chasing a client for the final payment—that summer afternoon, he was at a construction site chasing a final payment, the client didn't pay, and even shoved him. He stumbled back two steps and bumped into a pile of rubble, a dark red stone smashing into his forehead, causing him to bleed profusely instantly. At the time, he thought he was going to die, but the stone was actually a tiny blood-red mineral crystal. When he woke up, he was lying in a completely unfamiliar place, the scent of sandalwood and old wood filling his nostrils. He later learned that it was called Xuan Shuo, a dynasty that didn't exist in official history.

His first battle in Xuanshuo was at the grain bureau: four grain merchants colluded to raise prices, with Zhang Lin backing them up. In ten days, without firing a single shot, he made the four grain merchants collapse on their own. Later, Zhang Lin launched his attack.

With 300,000 troops pressing in, he pointed a flashlight at the city walls, and the three Khans of the Northern Barbarians withdrew their troops overnight. Then came Prince An, the allied forces of the three kingdoms, the rebellion on the day of the wedding, and the two cannons on the city walls that blasted away the entire rebel army.

The people of Xuanshuo originally thought that they would not survive the winter. Later, he asked Xiaolan to lead people to distribute seeds and farm tools to farmers in the fields outside the city. When spring came, the first batch of wheat seedlings grew to the height of their calves. He squatted on the ridge and pulled up a seedling. Its roots were almost half as deep as in previous years.

On the modern side, he found Lin Xiaoya and Xiaozhou. The night Xiaoya waited for him at the villa door, she was wearing an old sweater, her hair pulled back. When he stepped inside, she didn't say much, only reheating the dishes in the kitchen. Xiaozhou sat across the table doing her homework, the soft scratching of her pencil on the paper a continuous, delicate sound.

Then came the dry well at the Guandi Temple. The blood-red jade pendant seized from Prince An led him through the stone gate to Wang Mang: Wang Mang, portrayed by history as a usurper, sat in the stone chamber waiting for him, speaking slowly, as if meticulously listing the details that history had overlooked.

Wang Mang said the Abdala tribe had been monitoring time travelers, and that Lin Yanzhou was chosen because his consciousness was pure. Then the two orbs of light gave him three options: stay in Xuan Shuo, stay in the modern world, or stay as an observer. He chose the fourth—to continue being their test subject, to continue moving between the two sides, using himself to cover all the variables they needed to observe.

The ore powder sample he brought out from the stone gate was sent to the Academy of Sciences.

The vice dean handed him a brown paper bag containing a certificate with a red cover. He remembered that when he walked out of the Academy of Sciences gate, the sunlight was slanting down from the eaves, and the black van was still parked under the shade of the trees across the street, its windows closed and the engine running.

He remembered that when the red car was stopped on the outskirts of the villa area, it was already dark, there were no pedestrians on the side road, the streetlights had just come on, and the intervals and distances between the cars were fixed, as if someone had marked the locations in advance.

Haozi has already prepared the equipment. The ten old ship hulls are still in the workshop on the west side of the factory area. The primer has been applied, and the installation of the power system is progressing steadily.

He planned an eastern expedition, his goal clear: he had repeatedly confirmed the direction and the outline of the islands on the map. But what would happen after the expedition? The city-states to the west were mostly subdued, the north was temporarily contained, and the south remained largely untouched. After crossing that body of water to the east, would he have to continue even further afield?

The scene was too far away, so far that it seemed like someone else's story. He hadn't decided whether to actually go that far, but he hadn't completely taken the scene away either. He simply placed it in a location where he could see it at any time but didn't need to get close for the time being, like when he was arranging plans on a construction site, leaving an appropriate distance and space for observation, so that he could start it at any time when the actual conditions were close.

Ayiguli's fingers lightly touched his wrist, then released. She turned over, as if falling asleep again. Xiaolan leaned against the end of the kang, his breathing steady and even. He closed his eyes, retracing the thread in the darkness: he had originally been just a debt collector at construction sites, but now two worlds unfolded behind him—Xuanshuo's farmland was turning green, modern technological projects were progressing, and he was still lying on this earthen kang, feeling his heartbeat return to normal.

He didn't know what would happen after conquering the world, nor was he sure if he would eventually stop there. But he knew that image would remain there forever, as a possibility, a possibility that had been organized, placed, and could be invoked at any time.

He wouldn't rush to activate it, nor would he completely forget about it. The wind outside the window blew in from above the courtyard wall, causing the crooked poplar tree's crown to tilt to one side and then bounce back. He felt his fingers lightly touch and release the inside of Ayiguli's arm, as if he were extracting those images one by one from the already organized sequence, then placing them back in their respective labeled positions, waiting for him to recall them the next time he needed them.

The distant clouds were slowly rolling, and moonlight occasionally peeked through the gaps, briefly illuminating the wall before fading away. The row of ship hulls sat quietly in Haozi's workshop; the primer had been applied, and the installation of the propulsion system was nearly complete. He didn't know when he would actually need them, but he knew they would always be there, waiting for him to be ready. Xiaolan shifted her position in her sleep, moving her shoulders closer to the edge of the kang (heated brick bed).

Lin Yanzhou finally made a decision: no matter how those alien consciousnesses would deal with him, even if it was like Wang Mang, he would still destroy the despicable Xiao Rizi race, even if it meant changing history. The road ahead was still long, and there was much he needed to do.

From now on, you will have control over your own suffering and joy; once gone, there is no return!

Postscript: The pen fell in the dead of night, with no moon outside the window. Over a hundred days and nights, more than two hundred thousand words, Lin Yanzhou began with a piece of gravel hitting his forehead at a construction site, then walked to the court of Xuan Shuo, to the dry well of the Guandi Temple, to the two floating orbs of light inside the moon, and to a kang (heated brick bed) in the Stone Kingdom, with three people breathing evenly beside him.

The path he walked is also the path I want to walk: how to shuttle back and forth between two worlds, how to keep old friends while embracing new journeys, how to hold onto power without rushing to swing it out, to first firmly plant your feet on the ground before looking up at the mountains ahead.

Zhao Lingxi asked him what to do about the time difference. He said he would find a way. He hasn't done it yet, but I believe he will.

The little emperor will continue down this path; he will grow up and become independent.

Xiao Zhou was doing her homework in the villa's living room, while Xiao Ya was preparing food in the kitchen. The firelight reflected on her profile, as if some form of connection between her and Xuan Shuo remained open.

Haozi was in the workshop, where the hulls of the ten ships were still waiting for the primer to dry completely.

That powerful flashlight should still be deep inside the Stone King's sleeve.

Wang Mang is still sitting in that stone chamber, probably reading my progress in another way.

The light orb of the Abdala tribe is still collecting data, waiting to see his next move. Will they create a new instance to maintain historical integrity? In any case, the protagonist is definitely going to wipe out the less fortunate; it's ingrained in his very being.

Unfortunately, this book has come to an end, but those people's lives continue. They will keep going; some will continue to wait, some will continue to repair the ship. This is their choice, and their path. Thank you for reading this book to the end. The story has come to a close, but the door remains open.

The next time we meet, it might be in a new world, or it might be somewhere further away on the same road.

Until next time.