Li Shimin faked his death? Then I will be powerful enough to conquer the world!

On Sichuan Road, mountain mist wrapped in damp fog wrapped around the blue-gray city walls.

Qian Shuwang stood under the eaves of the government office, looking at the dark clouds rolling in the sky, the teacup in his hand had already gone cold.

The new Mengding tea leaves floating in the tea were curled up like tired birds, just like the hidden worries that had been curled up in his heart for the past three years. Ever since the late emperor promoted him from the seventh-rank county magistrate to the provincial governor against all odds, this land surrounded by mountains had been like a heavy mountain, weighing down his body, forcing him to toss and turn every night on the carved bed in the back house of the government office.

The copper bell on the eaves suddenly rang, startling the gray sparrows pecking at food below the stone steps.

In the distant mountains, the green smoke from the textile factory, which used to be a symbol of prosperity, now strangely stagnated in mid-air.

Qian Shuwang stroked the brocade bestowed by the late emperor on his cuffs, and in a trance he recalled the oath he made when he took office.

At that time, he stood on the mountain road and looked down at the land, secretly vowing to ensure that the people of Sichuan Road could have enough food to eat.

But now, the thick smoke rising from the factory chimney is swallowing up his promise.

"Report - Fire at the textile factory!"

A shrill alarm tore through the stagnant air.

The teacup in Qian Shuwang's hand fell to the ground, and the celadon fragments flew like cold stars, mixed with the remaining tea and winding into strange patterns on the green bricks.

He staggered, holding onto the corridor pillar, feeling the world spinning before his eyes. The textile factory that carried the lifeline of trade between the Tang Dynasty and the Western Regions, the workshop that the late emperor had approved with red ink "a grand achievement", was now turning into black clouds rolling in the sky.

The grand occasion on the day the factory was founded is still vivid in my mind: the sound of camel bells from the Western Region merchant caravans, the shouts of the craftsmen, and the congratulatory voices of the officials, all interwoven into a magnificent chapter of prosperity.

But now, all of this will be reduced to ashes in the sea of ​​fire.

The sound of horse hooves on the official road was as rapid as drumbeats, and Qian Shuwang's official robe was torn by the strong wind and made a rustling sound.

People along the way either stopped and exclaimed, or stumbled towards the fire scene. The flames rising into the sky in the distance had dyed half the sky blood red.

When he reined in his horse and stopped in front of the fire, a heat wave, accompanied by a pungent smell of burning, hit him in the face. The flames were greedily licking the gilded plaque that read "Weaving of the Tang Dynasty", burning the golden characters written by the late emperor into twisted charcoal inch by inch.

The roar of the loom has long been replaced by the roar of flames. The workshop that once hummed with the sound of looms has now become a hell on earth.

"Help! Help!" Qian Shuwang shouted at the top of his lungs, his hair crooked and the corners of his robe stained with mud.

Citizens fighting the fire formed a human chain and passed buckets of water, but in the face of the raging fire, these efforts were just a drop in the bucket.

The loom twisted and deformed in the flames, pieces of Shu brocade turned to ashes, and sparks flying in the sky were like butterflies weeping blood.

After an unknown amount of time, the fire finally died down. Numerous unrecognizable bodies lay scattered across the rubble, their charred fingers still clawing at the doors and windows, as if grasping for a last glimmer of hope. A young worker's hairpin fell to the ground. It was her dowry, bought with her frugal savings, and now covered in ashes.

Qian Shuwang staggered and held onto the ruins, the acid churning in his stomach almost bursting through his throat.

This textile factory, which once cost the imperial court 100,000 strings of cash and was built in exchange for hundreds of loads of spices contributed by merchants from the Western Regions, this workshop that carried the late emperor's ambition of "revitalization", is now only left with broken walls and ruins.

What made him even more heartbroken was the news that the arsonist had been captured alive.

He slumped in his armchair, staring at the mountain of documents on his desk. On the top was the one with the late emperor's red-lettered "focus on development." The ink had long since faded, but it still stung his eyes like a scorching iron.

Just as Qian Shuwang was pacing back and forth in his study, a yamen runner came hurriedly to report: "The governor, the governor, the county magistrate, and the Western Region merchant Abdul are all kneeling at the gate of the government office to apologize!"

He turned around abruptly, the jade belt around his waist hurting his ribs. He laughed in anger: "Okay, what a good apology! Do you think this government office is a stage?"

He swung his robe sleeve fiercely and said coldly: "Catch them all! Also, bring the arsonist to the court!"

In the court, the former majesty now seemed so pale and powerless.

As the iron chains rattled, a thin young man was pushed to his knees on the blue brick ground.

In the flickering candlelight, Qian Shuwang saw that the man was no more than twenty years old. His coarse cloth shorts were covered with burn marks, and his pale face was stained with coal dust. Only his eyes were frighteningly bright, like two clusters of endless embers.

Qian Shuwang slammed the gavel so hard that the ink in the cinnabar inkstone on the desk splashed out and asked, "Why set the fire?"

The young man slowly raised his head, his eyes showing no fear: "Who are you?" This question made the yamen runners in the hall gasp in shock, but Qian Shuwang was inexplicably struck by this stubbornness and said in a deep voice: "I am the Sichuan Provincial Governor."

The young man suddenly laughed, his voice tinged with tears: "So you are the inspector who always said 'live and work in peace and contentment.'"

"I didn't recognize the real thing."

His voice was full of sarcasm, and every word was like a sharp blade, piercing Qian Shuwang's heart.

Qian Shuwang suppressed his anger and said: "Now it's your turn to answer the question! You burned down the imperial factory and killed forty-seven people. What was your purpose?"

The young man closed his eyes, his Adam's apple rolling with difficulty: "The factory owes me eight taels of silver. It's been three months. My mother is waiting to buy medicine, and my sister is waiting for help, but the accountant says 'no money', and the foreman says 'wait a little longer'..."

He suddenly opened his eyes, tears welling in his red eyes: "I went to the county government office to beat the drum to complain, but the bailiff kicked me away. I went to ask to see the county magistrate, but the doorman said, 'Your Excellency is busy.' Eight taels of silver may seem like money for a few bottles of wine to you, but to us ordinary people, it's our lives!"

The young man's words were filled with blood and tears, and every word was denouncing the cruel reality behind this seemingly prosperous era.

Qian Shuwang's heart trembled, thinking of the tax and silver reports piled up on his desk, and the huge profits from silk exported overseas. However, he never thought that behind these numbers, there were people who were desperate for a few taels of silver.

He forced himself to remain calm: "Even if there's no way to collect your wages, you shouldn't implicate innocent people! Aren't those 47 lives lost just as tragically as yours?"

The young man suddenly burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the empty hall, startling the swallows' nests on the beams and making them fall to the ground. "Innocent? They go to work on time every day, but they don't get paid, and yet they still weave silks to be given to nobles!"

"If they are not accomplices, what are they?"

"The day I went to the government office to file a complaint, the officials were celebrating the textile factory's profits."

"They said this was a tribute to the prosperity of the Tang Dynasty. But my family fell apart at that time... Before my mother died, she was still clutching the half-cold steamed bun I brought back..."

The young man's voice gradually became lower, and tears mixed with coal ash flowed down his cheeks, forming grooves.

His words were like a heavy hammer, waking up Qian Shuwang who was immersed in the dream of political achievements.

Suddenly the young man laughed.

Qian Shuwang was still thinking about what he said when he suddenly burst into laughter.

he asked with some confusion.

"why are you laughing?"

"Inspector, I'm laughing. When the factory owed me wages, I couldn't find any Tang Dynasty laws no matter how hard I tried."

"Look at what's happening now. I started a fire, and now the laws of the Tang Dynasty are coming to me."

"Fortunately, the laws of the Tang Dynasty have been found. Otherwise, I would have thought that there were no laws in the Tang Dynasty."

"Inspector, may I ask, is the labor law established by the late emperor still the law of the Tang Dynasty?"