My Imperial Advisor is ChatGPT

Chapter 120 The Early Growth of the Industrial Qin Dynasty

Xianyang, the square in front of the Epang Palace / the banks of the Wei River

At dawn, the bells of Xianyang City rang sixty times.

The bell's sound was no longer the dull echo of bronze striking metal, but a recording played through electromagnetic loudspeakers throughout the city—loud and clear, with a slight electrical hum, yet powerful enough to penetrate every layer of morning mist.

Seventy-three-year-old Ying Zheng stood on the highest terrace of the Epang Palace. He was still tall and straight, but his temples were completely white, and his face bore the marks of time. Yet his eyes, in the morning light, were still as sharp as an eagle's, and now held a calm composure that seemed to have seen through the ways of the world.

"Your Majesty, it's time to change your clothes."

Zhao Gao walked over, his back hunched. As one of the "multi-functional marquises" of Qin (Rubber Marquis, Flying Marquis, Anbutton Marquis...), Zhao Gao was now old. But he still stubbornly held onto his position as "Qin's number one steward."

Today, what Zhao Gao is holding in his hands is not a black dragon robe, but a dark gray, well-tailored... Zhongshan suit (made of woolen fabric, specially supplied by Daqin Textile Factory).

"Old Zhao," Ying Zheng said, opening his arms and letting Zhao Gao button his clothes, "do you think it looks a bit like I'm trying to look young for my old bones?"

"Your Majesty is joking." Zhao Gao skillfully adjusted his collar. "You wearing this is called 'keeping up with the times.' These days, young people in Xianyang all wear this to their weddings, saying it's 'the same style as the First Emperor,' and it makes them look more energetic."

Ying Zheng smiled and glanced at himself in the mirror beside him. Without the cumbersome crown and the floor-length robe, he looked capable and stern, like a veteran about to go to the front lines.

"Where is Wang Jianguo?" Ying Zheng asked.

"Chancellor Wang is cursing someone in the square," Zhao Gao said gleefully. "I heard it's because one of the tanks in the parade broke down, and Chancellor Wang is so angry he's about to hit the driver on the head with a wrench."

"Let's go." Ying Zheng put on his sunglasses (which were also specially made reading glasses). "Let's go see my iron torrent."

Section 2: A tractor is still a machine; paint it with camouflage and it becomes a tank.

The square in front of the Epang Palace has now been paved with asphalt and marked with white lines, and has been transformed into a parade ground that can accommodate 100,000 people.

Wang Jianguo (President of Daqin Academy of Sciences, now with a full head of white hair) is roaring at a steel monster belching black smoke.

"This is a military parade! It's a show of strength for the world!" Wang Jianguo pointed at the broken-down "tank," "This isn't a demonstration of how to fix vehicles! It broke down at a crucial moment (the track chain really did fall off), do you deserve all this grime and dirt?"

The driver, a young disciple of the Mohist school, was on the verge of tears, aggrieved: "Dean, this isn't my fault. This 'Mighty No. 1' tank is essentially just a Dongfanghong tractor with an iron shell... its gearbox is inherently fragile..."

Yes, the tanks currently used by the Qin Dynasty are actually **"tracked steam/internal combustion hybrid armored tractors"**.

Although it looks intimidating (with riveted steel plates and jungle camouflage), and has a 75mm field gun mounted on it, its chassis is actually derived from an agricultural tractor.

"Stop talking nonsense!" Wang Jianguo threw down the wrench in his hand. "Fix it now! If you can't fix it, you'll have to carry it across the podium!"

Just then, Ying Zheng arrived.

"Old Wang, calm down." Ying Zheng patted Wang Jianguo on the shoulder. "What's wrong with a tractor? It can plow the fields and fight battles. This is called 'integrating soldiers with farmers.' I think it's quite good."

Wang Jianguo turned around and saw Ying Zheng dressed in a Zhongshan suit. He paused for a moment, then smiled wryly: "Your Majesty, if you were to wear a thermos with that outfit, you would look even more like a retired old cadre."

"I've always been a veteran," Ying Zheng said, looking at the fully equipped formation before him. "Today marks the sixtieth anniversary of my ascension to the throne. These sixty years have been a long and arduous journey, from wielding a sword to commanding machines to kill.

At 3:45 AM, the military parade began.

There were no lengthy speeches, because the loudspeakers were too powerful and talking too much would cause feedback.

First formation: Infantry formation.

No longer were the Qin soldiers wielding long spears, but the National Defense Army carrying **"Qin-type 98k" rifles** (bolt-action, single-shot, rudimentary, but equipped with smokeless powder). Their steps were synchronized, their leather boots making a chilling "clack-clack" sound on the asphalt road.

Second formation: Artillery formation.

Dozens of 75mm field guns and 105mm howitzers were towed behind trucks (early internal combustion engine trucks, although they often stalled) and drove by slowly.

On the foreign viewing platform, the Roman envoy (the third in command) stared at the dark muzzles of the cannons and subconsciously touched his neck. He remembered the previous envoy's report: "The Qin people's cannons are fire-breathing ghouls of death."

Third formation: Armored formation.

The twenty repaired "armored tractors" finally started moving. They spewed black smoke, their tracks grinding across the road with a deafening roar. Although they moved as slowly as tortoises, in the eyes of armies in the era of cold weapons, they were simply invincible steel monsters.

"Look! My God! That's... a Kunpeng!"

A gasp of surprise erupted from the crowd.

Aerial formation: Airship formation.

Five hundred meters above the ground, five rigid airships, led by the "First Emperor," flew slowly in a V-formation (because other formations would be too difficult to control). Huge banners hung on the bellies of the airships: "May the Great Qin Dynasty last ten thousand years" and "Science and technology are the primary productive forces."

Below the airship, several simple biplanes made of wood (they had just successfully completed their test flights and dared not fly too high yet) were flying alongside. They looked like flying fish escorting a giant whale.

Water-based sub-venue:

Through the newly installed wireless television transmission system (based on the early mechanical scanning television principle, the picture quality was poor, full of static, but you could still see a picture), the large screen in the square broadcast the scene on the Wei River in real time.

The battleship "Invincible Qin" is leading a task force of cruisers and destroyers in a main gun salvo display.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Although no sound could be heard (no audio could be transmitted), the people in the square still erupted in thunderous cheers as they watched the towering water column rise into the sky.

"Great Qin is mighty!"

"Long live Your Majesty!"

Ying Zheng stood on the reviewing stand, watching everything unfold. His hands trembled slightly, not from old age, but from excitement.

Sixty years.

In sixty years, he dragged an empire that had emerged from the Bronze Age into the Electrical Age.

After the military parade, Ying Zheng did not attend the grand state banquet. Instead, he took Wang Jianguo and the two of them secretly slipped away to the "Star Gazing Platform" behind the Epang Palace.

There is no noise here, only the autumn wind and falling leaves.

The two sat on a stone bench, with Zhao Gao standing guard in the distance, holding a thermos (containing goji berries).

"Old Wang." Ying Zheng handed Wang Jianguo a cigar (a special supply from the Qin Tobacco Bureau), "Want one? This is top-quality stuff that just arrived from the Americas."

Wang Jianguo took the cigar, lit it, took a deep drag, and exhaled a smoke ring.

"Cough cough... It's a bit strong." Wang Jianguo smiled. "Your Majesty, smoke less, it's bad for your lungs."

"I know." Ying Zheng looked down at the brightly lit city of Xianyang. The neon lights there (neon tubes had just been invented) had already begun to flash, coloring the night sky.

"Old Wang, look down here." Ying Zheng pointed to the bustling area. "Sixty years ago, this place only had dirt roads and thatched huts. It was as dark as ink at night. Now, it's as bright as day, bustling with traffic, and everyone has enough to eat and wear."

Ying Zheng turned his head and looked at Wang Jianguo with a hint of inquiry in his eyes.

"Is this prosperous era what you wished for?"

Wang Jianguo fell silent.

He looked at the lights, pushed up his glasses, and the lenses reflected a faint light.

"Your Majesty, are you telling the truth?"

"I hereby pardon you."

"This prosperous era is quite good," Wang Jianguo said slowly. "The people are no longer hungry, and the country is no longer weak. But... this is only a 'foundation'."

"Foundation?" Ying Zheng raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Wang Jianguo stood up and pointed to the vast starry sky above.

"Your Majesty, the airships, cannons, and electric lights we build now are still using the physical laws of hundreds of years ago (from the perspective of later generations). We are still making trouble in the small pond of Earth."

"No matter how big a steam engine is, it can't fly out of the atmosphere; no matter how far a cannon can fire, it can't hit the moon."

Wang Jianguo turned around, his eyes becoming deep and fervent.

"A true golden age is not just about having enough to eat."

"But it's over there." He pointed to the brightest star. "When we can figure out where this light comes from, when we can send people up there, when we can extract the power to destroy the world (nuclear energy) from a single atom... that will be the real 'Qin Empire'."

"There's quantum mechanics, relativity, and genetic engineering ahead of us," Wang Jianguo sighed. "Your Majesty, the more you learn about science, the more you realize how ignorant you are. We've only just cracked the door open."

Ying Zheng listened without speaking for a long time.

After a long while, he stubbed out his cigar on the stone table.

"What a fine 'just a crack'!" Ying Zheng laughed, a laugh tinged with helplessness and a touch of pride. "I thought I had reached the top, but I never imagined that in your eyes, I was still at the foot of the mountain."

"However, this is for the best."

Ying Zheng stood up and patted the fallen leaves off his clothes.

"If we truly reach the summit, I'll find it rather dull. Since there's still a road ahead, let's keep going. Even if I can't go any further, there's still Fusu, and our descendants."

"As long as there is the sound of reading in the schools of Daqin, as long as the lights of the Academy of Sciences are still on, this road will never be cut off."

While the two old men were reflecting on life on the mountain, a war among young people was breaking out at the Royal Academy of Sciences Physics Institute down the mountain.

The conference room was filled with smoke, and a group of young physicists (most of whom were converted disciples of the Mohist school) were arguing heatedly.

The focus of the debate is an ancient yet new question: What exactly is light?

"Light is definitely a wave!"

A young scholar with long hair (a rising star of the Mohist school, named Mo Bo) slammed his fist on the table. "Dean Wang's invention of radio technology proved the existence of electromagnetic waves, and light is also a type of electromagnetic wave! Moreover, we conducted the 'double-slit interference experiment,' and those alternating bright and dark fringes can only be explained by waves!"

"Nonsense!"

Across from him, a chubby man with thick-rimmed glasses (a Legalist, named Fa Li) retorted, "If light is a wave, then why, in the photoelectric effect experiment, does the energy of light only depend on frequency and not intensity? And why is light absorbed in discrete packets? This proves that light is a particle! A bullet!"

"Wave!"

"particle!"

"Wave!"

"particle!"

The two sides argued fiercely, and some even picked up pieces of chalk in preparation for a physical attack.

A quiet, unassuming monk sitting in the corner (actually a very talented auditor named Gongshu Liang) suddenly raised his hand timidly.

"Um... fellow senior brothers."

"Is it possible..." Sorbital scratched his head, "...that it is both a wave and a particle?"

The entire room fell silent instantly.

Everyone looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Both a wave and a particle?" Mo Bo sneered. "Then tell me, is this donkey both a donkey and a horse? What kind of logic is that?"

"Exactly!" Falli chimed in. "This kind of fence-sitting argument has absolutely no scientific spirit! Get out there and sweep the floor!"

Gongshu Liang shrank back, not daring to speak. But looking at the beam of moonlight streaming in through the window, he had a strong intuition: this seemingly absurd answer might just be the truth.

On the mountaintop of the Epang Palace, Wang Jianguo seemed to sense something.

"His Majesty."

"Um?"

"Listen," Wang Jianguo pointed down the mountain, "the young people are arguing."

"What's all the noise about?"

"What's the point of arguing?" Wang Jianguo laughed. "The fiercer the argument, the better. Truth becomes clearer through debate. Once they've figured it out, the next door to the Great Qin will open."

Late at night.

With Zhao Gao's help, Ying Zheng prepared to return to the palace to rest.

Halfway there, he suddenly stopped, looked back at the Epang Palace behind him, and at the still-operating factory chimneys in the distance.

"Little G," Ying Zheng whispered in his mind.

[Hey Zheng, I'm here. Happy 60th Anniversary.]

"Tell me, can my Great Qin Dynasty perish after only two generations?"

"Brother Zheng, with your current setup, if you're going to collapse after only two generations, it'll have to be an alien invasion," Little G joked. "Your current industrial output accounts for 90% of the global total, and your army could plow the entire Earth. As long as you don't do anything reckless, this is the prototype of a ten-thousand-year empire."

"Ten thousand years..." Ying Zheng shook his head. "I do not ask for ten thousand years. I only ask that when future generations mention the word 'Qin,' they will think of more than just the Terracotta Army and the Great Wall."

"What I hope they think of is—"

Ying Zheng pointed to the brightest star in the night sky.

"It was the era when we were the first to look up at the sky and the first to measure the world with steel and fire."

"They will," Little G said. "In my timeline, some people call this 'Qin Dynasty Punk.'"

Ying Zheng smiled.

He turned around and walked unsteadily but resolutely into the darkness.

Behind him, the lights of Xianyang City still shone brightly. That was Chang'an, the city that never sleeps, an eternal empire, the first spark of human civilization ignited on the East Asian continent.

Meanwhile, in the academy's laboratory, a young man named Gong Shuliang was secretly writing a strange formula on the blackboard when no one was around:

E = hν

Although he didn't fully understand what it meant, he thought the words were beautiful.