After Yun Ye entered the mourning hall, Li Chengqian thought for a long time but still shook his head, murmuring to himself, “The state and nation—how can they be controlled by others’ hands? Power held in one person’s hands is authority; controlled by tens of thousands of hands, it can no longer be called power.”

Yun Ye didn’t know what kind of decision Li Chengqian would make. None of this was his concern. The current matter was to properly send Li Er off, bury him perfectly in the Zhaoling Mausoleum. After Zhangsun died, they would send her in as well, then finally cover it with quicksand and boulders, kill off some tomb robbers coveting the burial goods, and his task would be completely finished. How Li Chengqian thought or what he did—who could spare the attention?

Facing the great disaster, the Great Tang’s abundant national strength fully displayed its proper might. Trains ran day and night, transporting large batches of tents back from Luoyang, greatly reducing the loss of life. The armies of the Sixteen Guards scattered like locusts across these four disaster-stricken counties. The Ministry of Works, the Directorate of Imperial Manufactories, and the Academy’s construction teams built many houses in a very short time. For this, the Academy’s teachers replanned these areas. The previously chaotic buildings all disappeared, replaced by those most material-efficient connected housing units, standing row by row in the fields—red brick and green tile, very beautiful.

Three hundred thousand households affected by disaster—under the efforts of the simple Great Tang people, they quickly emerged from the shadow of calamity. There was no other reason except that spring plowing had begun. As long as apricot blossoms bloomed and swallows arrived, life still had to go on. Burying the dead, leading the plow oxen, carrying the plows on their backs, a new year had begun again.

The situation Li Er most feared—leaving corpses unburied to don armor and attack each other—didn’t occur. After his coffin received worship for eighty-one days, it was carried into the Zhaoling Mausoleum by some eunuchs determined to be buried with him. When the dragon-breaking stone fell, cries filled the fields. Perhaps heaven accepted the people’s sincerity. A spring rain arrived unexpectedly, just like Li Er’s governance—first violent, then endless comfort.

The Guanzhong earth didn’t stop its hurried footsteps because of a peerless monarch’s passing. Trains spouting white smoke still rushed between Chang’an and Luoyang. Swallows still raised children under nests built last year. The world was so peaceful it was as if it didn’t know that such a great monarch as Li Er had once campaigned, ruled, or even existed on this land…

Du Wei paced back and forth very irritably on the train platform. Damn it! From Luoyang to Chang’an actually required a whole day? Hadn’t they said that after changing the locomotive, the speed increased? Why hadn’t the train from the opposite direction arrived yet? Single-track was such a hassle. In Du Wei’s view, when building train tracks, they should build two at once—one specifically running east, one specifically running west. A train could depart every half-hour. In terms of efficiency, this was fastest. Having graduated from the Yushan Academy, Du Wei easily arrived at an optimal plan. As chief manager, such calculations posed no problem for him.

Those merit nobles’ descendants with bellies full of fat were the world’s greatest fools, only knowing how to muddle through days guarding the little wealth their ancestors left. Du Wei absolutely didn’t believe this railway was something Yun Huan thought up himself. He very naturally attributed this achievement to that respected duke.

The railway from Luoyang to Jinyang would reportedly open for traffic in the next few days. The railway from Jinyang to Chang’an had already broken ground. However, due to bridge issues, wanting to complete the connection between the three capitals in the next few years would probably only be a dream.

As a merchant, Du Wei’s instincts had always been sharp. He’d heard the Yushan Academy already had a new bridge design scheme that was completely different from ancient stone arch bridges or suspension bridges. The weight it could bear and its span were simply incomparable to the previous two types of bridges. Reportedly, such bridges were entirely constructed of steel—veritable iron bridges. The construction method was also very simple. They only needed to rivet together pre-fabricated components with rivets and erect them on several bridge piers. Such bridges could not only support carriages and horses traveling on top, but the lower level could also allow trains to pass through. Now some people were already clamoring to build such a bridge over the Yangtze River, so the Great Tang’s territory wouldn’t be divided by a great river into northern and southern banks.

Perhaps such bridges had other uses politically. Having come from the Academy, Du Wei wasn’t completely ignorant of court politics, but he was unwilling to think about it. What he cared about were rivets. To build bridges, the rivets needed would certainly be countless. Everyone under heaven knew that Zhou’s rivets were the most reliable. The army’s rivets for connecting large equipment were all supplied by Zhou’s. There was no reason that when building a great bridge they wouldn’t use Zhou’s rivets. This trip, he planned to enter the capital to find several classmates in the Ministry of Works and see when the great bridge would be built so he could compete for orders.

Hearing the steam whistle in the distance, Du Wei breathed a sigh of relief. The damned train had finally arrived. After the train coming from the opposite direction thundered past beside him, Du Wei finally opened his eyes. The train always dropped black coal ash—very annoying.

Most of that train from the opposite direction consisted of freight cars, with very few passenger cars. Hauling cargo was now more profitable than transporting people, so the Yun family always pulled as much cargo as possible. Transporting people was just incidental.

Those who could afford to ride trains remained a minority. People riding donkeys toward Chang’an cursed the Yun family plenty. Du Wei clearly wasn’t among those cursing. His only hope now was for the train to depart quickly!

After waiting a full incense stick’s worth of time more, Du Wei had already asked the steward in the carriage three times. Each time, the reply he got was that one person still hadn’t boarded—wait a bit longer!

“Beast!” Du Wei cursed irritably in his heart, squeezed into the cramped seat. Next to him was a Hu person reeking of sheep. On such a hot day, he still wore a sheepskin vest. A long bench meant for three people was occupied halfway by him alone.

Normally, he would ride in the front carriage, where the seats were soft sheepskin chairs. If tired, they could even recline flat to serve as couches. A day’s journey only required burying one’s head in deep sleep to arrive at Chang’an full of energy, then get off the train to visit those classmates composing poetry in pleasure quarters.

Today there was no such good fortune. Two brocade-clad strongmen gripping horizontal sabers stood like iron towers before that carriage’s door. The entire luxury carriage had been commandeered by a noble.

Needless to say, the train was waiting for this noble. If a commoner hadn’t boarded, the train would have already run dozens of li away by now. The Yun family’s people were very firm—there was never any talk of ticket refunds. They always used the phrase “Those who don’t keep faith aren’t human!” to put off the common people.

Du Wei turned his head to look out the window. His breathing nearly stopped. He hadn’t seen a beauty—having experienced pleasure quarters many times over the years, he’d seen many beautiful women and wouldn’t be surprised.

The reason he was surprised was because he saw a horse, a legendary horse. This wasn’t a thousand-li steed. Perhaps it once was, but now it couldn’t even count as a hundred-li steed. Its date-red coat had already become sparse. Only on top of its head was a small topknot still tied. Most outrageous was that tuft of hair was actually adorned with a huge green gemstone…

Wang Cai walked while farting. Yun Ye looked back at Wang Cai and sighed. Why did he like eating cooked soft beans so much? With a bad digestive system, he shouldn’t eat those bloating things.

No help for it. Ever since taking Wang Cai on a train ride once, he’d fallen in love with trains. Perhaps he couldn’t run anymore himself, but he still missed the feeling of traveling at lightning speed. So as long as Yun Ye went out and Wang Cai saw a train, he would excitedly paw the ground with his hooves…

Five years had passed since Li Er’s death. This year’s grand memorial sacrifice, Yun Ye didn’t want to miss. He couldn’t understand why the imperial family chose the sacrifice time on the hottest day of the year. Perhaps on this day, yang energy was strong, and imperial family members who died unjustly wouldn’t come looking for those living emperors.

Yun Ye hadn’t concerned himself with court politics for a long time now. His days passed very peacefully. In these five years, his footsteps had reached as far as the distant islands. Li Tai had successfully installed steam engines on large ships, so the time to reach the distant islands had been greatly shortened.

Boarding the train, Wang Cai habitually lay down on a large grass mat the groom had prepared, resting his head under Yun Ye’s feet and looking out through the bottom glass window. Yun Ye never allowed Wang Cai to stick his head out the window, though this was his favorite thing.

The young steward came to ask the Duke if they could depart. Yun Ye nodded. The guards helped the Duke recline the soft chair, brought a thin blanket to cover him. Sleeping on the train had always been the Duke’s habit.

Du Wei stopped complaining. Being able to ride in one train with a legendary figure, he felt very fortunate. When studying at the Academy, he’d known about Wang Cai and had seen Wang Cai. Only in recent years, the Duke no longer taught students. Mathematics classes were taught by Teacher Wu Mei and Teacher Hypatia. Hearing that this old gentleman had resolutely given up all power to till the fields—this alone commanded the respect of all under heaven.

Advancing, he dominated the situation; retreating, the sea waves didn’t rise. How many hoped they could achieve such a life goal, yet only Duke of Chu had truly accomplished this.

The train rumbled and woke Yun Ye from his sleep. Looking at the water clock, he discovered the train had already passed Hangu Pass and was about to enter the Guanzhong Plain. The Yellow River flowed quietly not far away. Only the river water was yellowish—this was already much better. A few years ago, the Yellow River had simply been a river of yellow mud soup.

Wang Cai never slept peacefully. When Yun Ye got up, he also struggled to stand with the groom’s help. His iron shoes stomped on the floor laid with jujube wood, making thumping sounds. No matter what, Wang Cai couldn’t accompany him much longer. Once a horse couldn’t stand up by itself, it was time for a natural death.

The younger generation, wanting to make him happy, cited classics and precedents trying to prove a horse could live past eighty, and they took out Chen Shou’s compiled “Records of the Three Kingdoms,” pointing to the chronicle of Red Hare and swearing confidently that a horse could live fifty years without problem.

Could Chen Shou’s words be believed? A historian who spoke well of whoever paid him—the Yan family had long classified him among the scoundrels. The “Biographies of Sycophants” contained records about him.

Having lived long enough years, Yun Ye could already face death. Fang Xuanling had died, Du Ruhui had also died. Of the old Zhenguan ministers, only a few remained. Except for Cheng Yaojin, who still lived comfortably with large bowls of wine and large chunks of meat, Yuchi Gong and Niu Jinda were already in their twilight years…