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

In the winter of the 14th year of Tianbao, when An Lushan's cavalry broke through the ice of the Yellow River, Yan Zhenqing, the prefect of Pingyuan County, was grinding ink in his study.

On the desk was spread a freshly written copy of the Thousand Character Classic, with strong brushstrokes and rich ink, but the urgent news coming in from outside the window had caused a few stains on the copy.

"Prefect Yan! The Fanyang troops have reached Boping, and the defending commander has surrendered!"

Li E, a military officer, threw open the door, his armor still caked with snow. "The rebels claim to number 500,000 men. All the prefectures and counties along the way have been swept away. Jinan and Weizhou have already fallen!"

Yan Zhenqing put down the wolf hair brush and tightened his fingertips slightly on the cold inkstone.

He is fifty-six years old this year, with gray hair on his temples, but he has a handsome face and his eyes are as calm as a deep pool.

Ever since An Lushan's rebellious manifesto reached Pingyuan County, he knew that this land could not escape the war - Pingyuan County is located in Hebei, which is the only way for the rebels to move south.

"Send my order."

His voice was low, but it carried undeniable strength. "Open the treasury, distribute armor and food, and call up the militia! Tell the people that Yan Zhenqing is here, and he will live and die with Pingyuan!"

Li E hesitated and said, "Prefect Yan, we only have 3,000 county soldiers. How can we resist 200,000 cavalry? How about..."

"Why not surrender?" Yan Zhenqing suddenly raised his head, his eyes sharp as a knife. "An Lushan is a traitor to our country. My Yan family has been loyal for generations. How could we become a sinner for all eternity?"

"My elder brother, Yan Gaoqing, is in Changshan Commandery. He has sent me a letter, agreeing to raise the banner of rebellion together and cut off the rebels' retreat!"

Three days later, a large flag was erected on the city gate tower of Pingyuan County with the words "loyalty and righteousness" inscribed on it.

Yan Zhenqing personally put on armor and climbed the city wall, followed by 5,000 temporarily recruited militiamen - farmers carrying hoes, white-haired old soldiers, and his own servants.

At the foot of the city wall, the rebel envoy rushed over with a letter of surrender, but Yan Zhenqing shot an arrow through the letter, and the arrowhead was nailed to the city gate, causing it to tremble continuously.

"Go back and tell An Lushan!" He stood in the cold wind, his voice shaking the whole area, "I, Yan Zhenqing, may my head be cut off and my blood shed, but this city will never surrender!"

The messenger fled in panic, and the rebels launched a hail of siege arrows.

Yan Zhenqing commanded the troops with confidence and used rolling logs and rocks to repel wave after wave of attacks.

While inspecting the city defenses late at night, he felt a letter from home in his arms. It was sent from Changshan by his brother Yan Gaoqing. The handwriting was illegible, and there were traces of dark red blood in the ink: "Brother, Changshan is ready. At the beginning of the first month, we will attack Jingxing and cut off the enemy's food supply."

"My nephew Ji Ming is by my side. He is brave and commendable. Don't worry."

Yan Zhenqing stroked the two words "Ji Ming" and his eyes became hot.

His nephew was only nineteen years old and served as a military officer in Changshan with his brother. The letter said that he was "brave and commendable", so he must have been a young general who could stand on his own.

He picked up the pen to write a reply, but he didn't know what to write. He just wrote the word "peace" on the paper over and over again until the rooster crowed.

In the first month of the fifteenth year of Tianbao, An Lushan was sitting in Luoyang preparing to proclaim himself emperor when he suddenly heard of a mutiny in Changshan County. Yan Gaoqing killed the rebel commander Li Qincou, recaptured Jingxing Pass, and cut off the food supply route between Fanyang and Luoyang.

"A bunch of scholars dare to stroke a tiger's whiskers?"

An Lushan threw the report to the ground and sternly ordered, "Order Shi Siming and Cai Xide to lead 30,000 elite troops to attack Pingchang Mountain!"

Inside Changshan City, Yan Gaoqing and Yan Jiming were counting the spoils of war.

The rebels at Jingxing Pass had piles of food and fodder piled high, enough to sustain them for several months. He had sent someone on horseback to inform Yan Zhenqing and agreed to join forces.

The young Yan Jiming, holding the enemy's head, still had a childish look on his face, but he said loudly: "Uncle, after we kill Shi Siming, we will go to Chang'an to protect the emperor!"

Yan Gaoqing patted his nephew's head, his eyes filled with both relief and worry. "Ji Ming, the rebels are powerful, we must not underestimate them. You take a team to Pingyuan County to seek help, and I will hold this place to the death."

But before the reinforcements had gone a hundred miles, Shi Siming's army had already arrived at the city.

The rebels used battering rams, and the walls of Changshan were shaking with the loud noise.

Yan Gaoqing personally moved stones to block the gap and was hit in the left arm by a stray arrow. The blood stained his clothes red, but he gritted his teeth and refused to retreat.

"Father! Let me go!" Yan Jiming, holding a spear, rushed towards the gap on the left wing with his servants.

The young man knew no fear and only rushed forward, picking off one rebel after another with the tip of his spear, until he was shot through the chest by three arrows and fell in a pool of blood.

Yan Gaoqing watched his nephew fall down, a fishy and sweet taste rising in his throat, but he could only roar and swing his sword at the enemy.

When the city fell, he was captured by the rebels. Shi Siming threw Yan Jiming's head in front of him and said, "Qing Yan Gao, will you surrender? If you do, I will guarantee you wealth and glory!"

Yan Gaoqing looked at his nephew's wide-open eyes and suddenly burst into laughter, his laughter mingled with blood foam: "My Yan family is full of loyal and brave people. How could we associate with a group of traitors like you?"

"An Lushan usurped the throne and will be punished by heaven! Even in my grave, I will watch him being torn into pieces!"

Shi Siming was so angry that he ordered Yan Gaoqing to be tied to a pillar, his flesh to be peeled off, and his tongue to be cut off.

The old man cursed until his death, and his blood splattered on the city wall like a blooming red plum.

When the news of the fall of Changshan reached Pingyuan County, Yan Zhenqing was writing a notice on the city wall.

Li E rushed in holding a torn letter from home, his voice choked with sobs: "Sir... Changshan was destroyed... Sir Yan... he and Master Ji Ming... were both killed..."

The pen in Yan Zhenqing's hand fell to the ground with a "bang", and the ink spread across a large area on the notice.

He stood there for a moment, and suddenly started coughing violently, so heart-wrenchingly that it seemed as if he was going to cough out all his internal organs.

"Ji Ming... my nephew..." He muttered to himself, and the image of Ji Ming pestering him to learn calligraphy as a teenager flashed before his eyes. The child always said, "My uncle's handwriting is so powerful that it can be seen through the paper. I want to write like that in the future."

Three days later, Yan Zhenqing's adopted son Yan Quanming escaped from Changshan and brought back the remains of Yan Gaoqing and Yan Jiming. In the chaotic times, the bodies were no longer complete, and only a few broken bones could be found, wrapped in tattered clothes.

That night, the lights in Pingyuan County's study remained on all night. Yan Zhenqing sat at his desk, a sheet of coarse linen paper spread out before him. He didn't use delicate rice paper or finely ground pine soot ink. Instead, he used a bowl of leftover ink and a worn brush, and began to write.

"In the first year of the Qianyuan era, the year of Wuxu, the first day of the ninth month, Gengwu, the third day, Renshen..."

Yan Zhenqing's hand trembled as he set pen to paper. He wanted to write neatly, to compose a proper eulogy for his nephew, but the ink fell crooked on the paper, like the tangled mess of his emotions.

"My thirteenth uncle, the Silver and Green Guanglu Doctor, was sent to Puzhou to carry out military affairs, the Puzhou Governor, the Light Cavalry Commandant, the Danyang County Founding Marquis Zhenqing, to offer a simple drink and a simple meal to the spirit of my late nephew, the posthumous Zanshan Doctor Ji Ming, saying..."

When he wrote the word "Ji Ming", his pen stopped. The remaining ink spread across the paper like a drop of congealed blood.

He remembered the instructions of his brother Yan Gaoqing, the smiling face of his young nephew, and the fallen righteous flag on the top of Changshan City. The fishy sweetness in his throat surged up again.

"Your father was devoted and established Changshan as a prefecture. When I was appointed, I was also stationed in Pingyuan..."

The brush strokes suddenly became rapid, the ink color was sometimes thick and sometimes thin, and there was an uncontrollable tremor between the strokes.

He wrote about how his brother rose up in rebellion, how he responded, and the oath the uncle and nephew made to "recapture the two capitals and wipe out the Yan invaders." But the ink suddenly stopped - there were a few dark red stains there, which were the tears of blood that he couldn't help but shed.

"If the traitorous ministers do not come to his rescue, the city will be surrounded. The father will be trapped and the son will die. The nest will be overturned and the eggs will be destroyed..."

These sixteen characters practically slammed onto the paper, their strokes thick and heavy, like a knife or an axe, some even breaking through the edge of the paper.

He thought of Shi Siming's cruelty, the counties that surrendered to the rebels, and Li Longji who was still living in peace and prosperity in Chang'an. A wave of grief and anger rushed to his head.

Why were loyal officials murdered? Why did traitors run rampant? Why could the prosperous Tang Dynasty not accommodate a few loyal ministers who defended the land?

"The thought is heartbreaking, the grief is shocking..."

His hands were shaking more and more, and he could barely hold the pen. He could almost see Yan Jiming lying in a pool of blood, his brother's eyes wide open as he was being skinned.

He wanted to write about his nephew's bravery and his brother's loyalty, but thousands of words were stuck in his throat and could only turn into messy ink marks on the paper.

Some words were written incorrectly, so he erased them forcefully, leaving behind ink blobs that looked like undried blood scabs.

Some characters were written too hastily, with the strokes intertwined like endless grief.

"Alas! I have received the grace of Heaven and have been transferred to Heguan. Quan Mingbi has once again captured Changshan. I will carry your head and coffin with me and return with you..."

When writing the word "首榇", the pen tip suddenly became lighter, like a sigh or a sob.

What Yan Quanming brought back was just a piece of his nephew's broken bones, not even a complete body.

As an uncle, he couldn't even collect the remains of his nephew. How could he face his brother in the afterlife?

"Throwing thoughts of grief, my heart is shaken with sorrow. I will wait for the distant day to predict your secluded home. If your soul is aware, you will not regret being away for so long..."

When the last stroke was completed, Yan Zhenqing's sleeves were soaked with tears.

There is no deliberate structure or elaborate embellishment in the entire eulogy, only true feelings intertwined with blood and tears, vividly expressed on the coarse linen paper.

Where the ink is thick, it represents heart-wrenching grief; where the brush tip is broken, it represents heart-wrenching sorrow.

How can this be an obituary?

This is clearly the tearful cry of a loyal minister in troubled times, and the most painful sigh when the prosperous Tang Dynasty collapsed.

He folded the manuscript carefully, put it in his arms, stood up and walked towards the top of the city wall.

At this time, Pingyuan County had joined forces with 17 surrounding counties, with a force of 200,000, and was preparing to recapture Luoyang.

The cold wind blew his hair and beard as he looked to the south, where Luoyang was occupied by rebels and where his brother and nephew died.

"Ji Ming, your uncle will definitely avenge you."

He whispered, his voice filled with a firmness he had never before expressed, "The Tang Dynasty cannot be destroyed like this."