Chapter 20: A Photo with Meng Yi

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Zhao Gao’s fingertip hesitated briefly on the cold screen, then he stepped aside to stand in front of Ying Zheng and pressed his thumb firmly onto the center of the screen.

In an instant, a dazzling, radiant image burst forth. The neon lights of Chang’an Street poured down like a river of stars; the Oriental Pearl Tower shone brilliantly against the night; high-speed trains streaked across mountains like silver dragons; planes pierced through clouds, leaving behind a white rainbow...

“This...”

Ying Zheng suddenly rose from his seat, the jade beads on his crown swaying violently.

His gaze fixed intently on the screen, where steel carriages crossed like swarming ants, and a majestic bridge spanned the Yangtze River... The scene abruptly shifted to a city ablaze with lights beneath the night sky, so brilliant it turned the darkness almost to daylight!

The fingers beneath his dark wide sleeves unconsciously clenched, the knuckles turning pale.

These towering buildings, these vehicles that required no horses to pull them—these were clearly scenes from a fairyland!

And yet, if the claims were true, this was China two thousand years in the future.

Suddenly, a bird’s-eye shot in the video swept over an expanse of buildings stretching for dozens of miles. The sunlight reflected off the glass curtain walls, dazzling Zhao Gao’s eyes—and more so, his heart.

Meng Yi noticed the emperor’s rare expression of distraction; even Zhao Gao’s demeanor was unusually unsettled, far from his usual calm.

This not only piqued Meng Yi’s curiosity about the “video” they were watching.

What exactly had they seen to provoke such reactions?

“Your Majesty, those iron boxes speeding down the streets are called ‘cars,’” Jiang Ye explained at the right moment. “No horses needed; they can travel a thousand miles in a day without issue.”

Ying Zheng’s pupils contracted sharply, his eyes still glued to the ceaseless flow of vehicles on the screen.

“The ones flying in the sky are called ‘airplanes,’ traveling ten thousand miles a day,” Jiang Ye continued. “From Xianyang to the South China Sea takes only an hour and a half.”

What?!

From Xianyang to the South China Sea in just an hour and a half!

This was nothing short of a miracle!

Meng Yi’s mouth dropped open in astonishment at Jiang Ye’s explanation, disbelief shining in his eyes.

“There’s also the ‘high-speed train’ running on the rails, which can cover over twelve hundred miles in an hour.”

“And those towering skyscrapers, reaching hundreds of feet tall, with seventy or eighty floors not even a question.”

As Jiang Ye introduced each marvel bit by bit, the three men in the hall were shocked over and over, struggling to digest these unbelievable things.

Ying Zheng slowly raised his hand, his fingertips hovering just before the screen.

The video showed the Fuxing bullet train cutting through steep mountains, its streamlined nose piercing the clouds like a sharp sword.

Jiang Ye clasped his hands in a formal salute and said earnestly, “If Your Majesty doubts, at the second quarter of the sixth hour tomorrow, you may witness these ‘cars’ in person.”

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A sharp gleam surged in Ying Zheng’s eyes; the jade beads on his crown chimed crisply.

He slowly descended the main hall steps, his dragon-patterned black boots thudding heavily on the golden bricks, the sound unusually clear in the silent hall.

“Truly?” Ying Zheng, rarely showing emotion, let it slip now.

“I dare not speak presumptuously,” Jiang Ye replied solemnly.

“Very well! Tomorrow I shall await the arrival of your descendants from the future to witness these marvels spanning two thousand years of time.”

Ying Zheng’s sharp gaze landed on Meng Yi. “Minister Meng, see to it that our guests from the future are well received.”

“As you command, Your Majesty,” Meng Yi bowed and then gestured to Jiang Ye and the others, inviting them to follow. “Please this way.”

The nine of them bowed again hastily before following Meng Yi out of the hall. Fang Gaochang couldn’t resist glancing back before leaving, only to stumble over the threshold; he was caught just in time by Jiang Kai, narrowly avoiding a fall.

After Meng Yi led Jiang Ye and the others outside, Ying Zheng’s gaze remained fixed on the gently swaying curtain.

“Zhao Gao,” he suddenly spoke in a low voice, “what do you think—how much truth is there in this talk of the future?”

Zhao Gao froze, his eyes darting as he carefully weighed his words. “Your Majesty, in my humble opinion, those things are indeed not of this world. However...”

He glanced furtively at the smartphone resting on the desk. “If they do truly come from two thousand years later...”

Ying Zheng turned, his gaze beneath the crown sharp as a sword. “Continue.”

“I dare not make rash judgments,” Zhao Gao wiped sweat from his brow. “But if what they say is true, it would be a tremendous blessing for Your Majesty. With assistance from future people, Your Majesty’s path to immortality...”

His words trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

Ying Zheng’s eyes darkened; he unconsciously traced the edge of the jade desk with his fingers.

Elsewhere, Meng Yi led the group to a quiet little courtyard, where green bamboo speckled the gray brick and black tiles.

He turned to Jiang Ye. “Please rest here for now. Feel free to move about the courtyard as you wish. If you need anything, just instruct the maids.”

Jiang Kai immediately stepped forward. “Minister Meng, I happen to have a request—one only you can fulfill.”

“What is it?” Meng Yi asked.

“Minister Meng, may I take a photo with you?”

Jiang Ye handed over Jiang Kai’s phone. Jiang Kai quickly opened the camera app. “Just a photo together?”

Meng Yi understood what a “photo” was, though he still didn’t understand why they insisted on calling him “Minister.”

A “photo” meant having oneself and another drawn or captured within the same frame.

Meng Yi naturally would not refuse such a request and gave a slight nod. “Very well.”

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Seeing Meng Yi agree, Jiang Kai eagerly stepped forward.

“I want one too!” Fang Gaochang dashed over in a single leap, nearly pushing Jiang Kai aside.

Li Jun immediately pulled out another phone. “Use mine! Higher resolution!”

In no time, Meng Yi was surrounded by eight people.

Shi Xiaoyu stood on tiptoe, holding the phone high. “Minister, look at the camera! Yes, just like that, don’t move!”

The shutter clicked repeatedly.

Meng Yi stood stiffly, like a puppet being posed by the group.

One moment he was told to rest his hand on the sword hilt to look imposing; the next, he was pulled into a friendly arm-over-shoulder pose with Fang Gaochang.

Li Lin even found a Qin bow from somewhere and shoved it into his hands. “Holding this makes you look even more dignified!”

The maids hid in the corridor, whispering among themselves. They had never seen Minister Meng treated like a mere backdrop.

What was stranger still was that the things these people said were utterly strange and incomprehensible to them.

The objects in their hands were even more novel—things they had never seen before.

After taking plenty of group photos, Jiang Kai proposed, “Let’s take a big group photo!”

“Good idea!”

Jiang Kai waved to Jiang Ye. “Director Jiang, come help us!”

Jiang Ye took the phone with a wry smile, watching as Meng Yi was surrounded by eight people.

This mastermind of strategy now wore a bewildered and helpless expression, like a sheep lost in a wolf pack.

“Minister, smile!” Shi Xiaoyu tugged on Meng Yi’s sleeve. “Say ‘cheese’!”

Though he did not know what “cheese” meant, Meng Yi complied.

“Cheese,” he repeated stiffly, forcing a tight smile.

“Click!”

The image froze at that moment.

Thus was born the portrait of Minister Meng and the nine members of the Qin dynasty tour group, a snapshot spanning two thousand years.