Chapter One: The Man from the Future

Year Six of Emperor Han Gaozu, Linhua Palace.

The gentle glow of dawn filtered through the thin clouds, softly bathing Linhua Palace in its light. The hall was spacious; dim oil lamps flickered weakly against the morning brightness. At the upper end of the hall, Liu Bang sat with a slight lean in his posture. He appeared to be in his fifties, a sense of hardship and experience radiating from him. His face, somewhat tan and angular, was marked by a prominent nose, a dignified countenance, and well-groomed beard and sideburns.

“Is the Marquis of Stay not here yet?”

Feeling weary from sitting askew for so long, Liu Bang straightened himself a bit, fixing his gaze on Xiao He before him.

Upon his head was an imperial crown, topped with a rectangular board—rounded in front, square in back—with twelve strings of colored jade beads hanging both front and back, each string threaded with blue, red, yellow, white, and black silk. On both sides of the crown hung small yellow cotton balls by his ears. Draped in a dark imperial robe embroidered with twelve symbolic patterns, Liu Bang, who had seemed lazy and informal moments earlier, now radiated an unmistakable authority.

Xiao He looked somewhat younger than Liu Bang, his fair face always adorned with a gentle smile that put others at ease—though in truth, he was a year older than Liu Bang. He wore a black gown and a cap signifying virtuous merit. His voice was warm as he spoke, “The Marquis of Stay will need a little more time. I have already gathered the items and information retrieved from Lu Xuan.”

“We’re just waiting for the Marquis of Stay,” he added.

“Let’s wait a bit longer then,” Liu Bang replied, rubbing his brow. This was indeed a matter that required Zifang’s expertise to avoid any mistakes.

No one had expected that today, in the rear courtyard of Linhua Palace, such a person would appear—a man suspected to be from the future.

After some time, Zhang Liang arrived, clad in a pale silk robe, hurriedly approaching Linhua Palace, a hint of worry on his brow. Always frail and sickly, since the emperor entered Guanzhong and the realm was newly settled, Zhang Liang had excused himself from court affairs, claiming illness and shutting himself away. As the emperor’s throne became more secure, Zhang Liang gradually withdrew from his role as “Teacher of the Emperor” to that of “Guest of the Emperor,” observing a principle of non-necessity and occasional engagement.

The emperor was magnanimous, allowing him to fade from politics, and Zhang Liang had not participated in state affairs for a long time. If not for a matter of great urgency, he would not have been summoned so hastily. What had happened?

“The Marquis of Stay has arrived,” Xiao He announced, greeting Zhang Liang as he entered. Xiao He could manage internal affairs with ease, but in such perplexing matters, he preferred Zhang Liang’s assistance.

Seeing Zhang Liang, Liu Bang also smiled, “Marquis of Stay, you’ve finally come.”

“Your Majesty,” Zhang Liang bowed, then inquired about the reason for his summons.

Only then did he learn that, sometime today, a severely injured man had appeared in the rear courtyard of Linhua Palace.

“Marquis of Stay, this man's attire and appearance are markedly different from ours; he is not a Xiongnu or any foreigner,” Xiao He explained. “His clothing is coarse, but the craftsmanship is refined. We have yet to determine his origins, but we found on him an item resembling a credential that contains personal information. The script is strange, seemingly a further simplification of characters. Our interpretation suggests his name is Lu Xuan, born December 24, 1998...”

Xiao He had arranged everything. With a wave, he had a white card handed to Zhang Liang, and produced a tattered book.

“This is a book found on him, made of paper, but far cleaner and glossier than our hemp paper. According to our reading, the book’s cover bears the words ‘General History of China,’ though it is badly damaged. Apart from the names of the dynasties before and after the Han, there is little useful information.”

“At present, we believe this man may be from the future.”

Zhang Liang’s expression paused.

Could this be a dream journey?

Xiao He pondered the possibility, then said, “Perhaps this is what the records describe as ‘dream journey.’”

The scholars present understood the term. In the ‘Liezi: Emperor Huang’ it is recorded that Emperor Huang, while napping during the day, dreamed he had arrived in the Land of Huaxu.

There, without teachers, people naturally possessed noble morals; without desires, they lived in contentment; ignorant of attachment to life or aversion to death, so there were neither premature deaths nor short lives; unaware of self-preference or distancing from others, so there was neither love nor hate; ignorant of opposition or rebellion, nor approval or submission, so there was neither benefit nor harm.

When Emperor Huang awoke, he was deeply inspired. He later used this as a model for governance, and after twenty-eight years, the realm was well-ordered, nearly like the Land of Huaxu.

According to the records, the Land of Huaxu dates back four thousand years, and Huaxu is the ancestor of both Emperor Huang and Emperor Yan.

If Emperor Huang could dream of returning to the past, then it is understandable that someone from the future might dream of returning to the present.

The records do not specify whether, when Emperor Huang dreamed of the past, his body accompanied him. Perhaps a person could truly return to the past.

Thus, the origin of this man, and his arrival by ‘dream journey,’ can be explained.

“Marquis of Stay, I and His Majesty have discussed at length. As this man is from a later era, he must know all that occurred during the Han dynasty. If we can extract wisdom, policies, tactics, and technological knowledge from him, it would benefit our Han greatly.”

“But now we face a difficult question: how do we obtain information from him? Interrogation? Temptation? Testing? If we were to be transported to the time of Emperor Huang or Emperor Yan, we might feel uneasy, even despair and have thoughts of ending our own lives. I fear that, if we are not careful, we may provoke this man from the future, which would be unfortunate.”

“Your wisdom is unmatched, Marquis of Stay. That is why I requested His Majesty summon you.”

After Xiao He finished, Liu Bang put aside his smile, his face serious as he looked to Zhang Liang. In terms of wisdom, Zhang Liang far surpassed the other ministers.

Zhang Liang fell silent.

---

He had not expected the ‘dream journey’ of Emperor Huang, as recorded in the ancient texts, to become reality.

Famed for his resourcefulness, Zhang Liang thought briefly and immediately grasped the key point.

“I believe we should not ask directly; that would put us at a disadvantage. If this man is from the future, he will have some knowledge of Han history. If he can cite events from our era and confirm them, gradually we would be inclined to trust his judgments.”

“Often, people have feelings—love or hate—for historical figures. For instance, my attempted assassination of the First Emperor at Bolangsha must be recorded in the histories. This man, being from the future, may admire the First Emperor for unifying the six kingdoms, and thus dislike me. If he calls me a traitor, Your Majesty, would you believe him or not?”

“Court decisions would follow this man’s lead. He would hold imperial authority; if he declares someone a villain, that person would die; if he calls someone loyal, they would rise swiftly. State policies would hinge on his opinions. Do you not find this terrifying?”

Zhang Liang’s words startled Liu Bang and Xiao He, who had not considered this angle.

Marquis of Stay still saw through everything, hitting the heart of the matter with a single remark.

Liu Bang frowned, “I very much want to know what happens in the future. The dynasty is newly founded, there are many affairs, and Han must not repeat Qin’s mistakes. If information from this man can correct our shortcomings, Han’s reign may endure.”

“We must not let him know he is in the Han dynasty; instead, we should try to obtain the information we desire through indirect questioning,” Zhang Liang said.

Liu Bang was puzzled, “If we don’t let him know he’s in Han, how do we get information about Han?”

Zhang Liang replied solemnly, “Your Majesty, disputes among courtiers, loyalty or betrayal, are for you to discern. I believe the most valuable information we can obtain from a man of the future are beneficial decisions made by dynasties, weaknesses of border tribes, and newly developed technologies.”

Such decisions can guide Han along the correct path. Knowing the weaknesses of border tribes can prevent invasions. Technological advances—better bows, crossbows, military tactics—can bring lasting benefits.

“But...” Liu Bang hesitated. As emperor, his vision should encompass the whole realm, yet regarding this matter, he had another thought. He wanted to know, from this man, whether his descendants would be wise, how long Han would last, and his greatest worry—whether the feudal lords were secretly amassing troops.

He kept these thoughts to himself. Some things cannot be rushed, and he waited to see what Zhang Liang would arrange.

“How is the man now?” Zhang Liang asked.

“He is seriously wounded, bedridden, can care for himself, but is blind. The physicians say it’s due to a cranial injury.”

“He will recover in three months.”

Xiao He summoned the physician to explain Lu Xuan’s condition.

Zhang Liang mused, his tone grave, “Blindness is good for us; at least he cannot deduce from accumulated historical knowledge which dynasty he is in.”

“Within these three months, we should extract as much information as possible, and when he recovers, kill him.”

“Drain him of all value, then he cannot be allowed to live. There cannot be another who wholly influences the emperor’s will.”

Liu Bang and Xiao He pondered Zhang Liang’s words.

Indeed, it made sense.

This man’s knowledge far exceeds theirs. If he realizes he is in Han, and if Han’s historical figures seek his advice, ambition will be kindled.

Wealth is easy to grant; though Han is not prosperous, lifelong riches for one man is not difficult. But if he craves power, that is terrifying.

If all matters followed his judgment, there would be one above imperial authority, and the emperor’s will would lose its rightful effect.

The brothers had struggled to build the realm; imperial power cannot be infringed.

“Let us follow the Marquis of Stay’s plan for now. There cannot be a second in Han with imperial authority,” Liu Bang said.

With the matter settled, Liu Bang and Xiao He were no longer hesitant about how to face Lu Xuan, and led Zhang Liang to the side hall of Linhua Palace.

Linhua Palace, side hall.

It was midsummer, the heat oppressive. In the innermost chamber, Lu Xuan slowly awoke.

His head felt heavy.

It was as if he had dreamed.

He remembered clearly—he had grown up in Luoyang, Henan, but due to academic pressures, had never found time to visit the famous sites. During a holiday, he and his classmates planned to visit Ming Xiaoling, to pay respects at the mausoleum of Emperor Hongwu, Zhu Yuanzhang.

But fate is unpredictable; on the way, he was in a car accident, feeling only a sudden pain before losing consciousness.

---

At one point, he seemed to wake, seeing a group of people dressed in ancient clothing, gesturing and discussing him. His injuries were so severe that he could not recall which dynasty their outfits belonged to, and then he lost consciousness again.

“Why can’t I see?” Lu Xuan lay in bed, slowly rising, feeling a searing pain. He tried to open his eyes, to see where he was, but only endless darkness greeted him.

Not a trace of light.

He had forced his eyes as wide as possible.

Still, he could see nothing.

Lu Xuan’s heart grew heavy.

He was blind.

Now, he was a blind man.

The loss of sight is agony for anyone. His heart sank further, his nose tingling with sorrow. After years of hard study, just after graduation, he had met such misfortune. He didn’t know how severe his injuries were, nor where he was, and worst of all, he could not see.

Creak.

The sound of a door opening. Lu Xuan felt as if he glimpsed hope. His voice trembled, “Is someone there?”

“Are you a doctor?”

“What happened to me? Why can’t I see? Is this a hospital? Doctor, will I ever see again?”

The ones who entered were Liu Bang, Xiao He, and Zhang Liang.

Zhang Liang was at the forefront.

Unlike many emperors in history, Liu Bang was more approachable, treating his ministers almost as brothers, with little of the arrogance of the marketplace.

Zhang Liang was a minister; Liu Bang, the emperor. For a minister to precede the emperor would be disrespectful, but all three, Zhang Liang, Xiao He, and Liu Bang, unconsciously overlooked this.

Habit had become second nature.

Zhang Liang did not answer directly, but listened to Lu Xuan’s voice, attempting to adjust his own tone.

Lu Xuan spoke in ‘Luoyang dialect.’

Luoyang dialect was descended from the refined speech of the Zhou era, currently promoted in Luoyang. Yet Lu Xuan’s dialect was slightly different, his accent odd, but intelligible.

Zhang Liang had grown up in Korea, and knew some Luoyang dialect, though not fluently.

“We have no doctors here, only healers.”

“The healer diagnosed your blindness as temporary, caused by head trauma. You should recover in about three months.”

Zhang Liang attempted to speak in his imperfect Luoyang dialect.

He told Lu Xuan directly that he was no longer in that world.

This eased their pressure, as they were unfamiliar with the era Lu Xuan came from, and might easily expose themselves.

“Healer?” Lu Xuan’s voice quivered. Could he already be out of the modern era?

Modern people only use the terms doctor and nurse; ‘healer’ was clearly an ancient title.

“When I woke earlier, I saw people in ancient clothing. Were they real?”

“They were,” Zhang Liang replied calmly.

Lu Xuan felt his world collapse.

His body was badly injured, now blind, and he had arrived in ancient times.

Could he ever return?

The only comfort was that he would regain his sight in three months.

Thank goodness—at least he wouldn’t be blind forever.

But which dynasty was he in now? Or was it a dynasty that never existed in history?

For someone who frequented the internet, Lu Xuan could accept the idea of time travel. Novels, films, dramas—all had similar plots. He was not surprised.

“So, which dynasty am I in now?” Lu Xuan asked.