The Emperor's Beloved: My Ancestor is the Crown Prince?

"Yes! Revolution!" Xiao Qingyi nodded vigorously, even though she didn't know what "revolution" meant.

Just then, footsteps came from outside the door.

"Qingyi is here?" Li Chengqian's voice rang out.

Xiao Qingyi immediately jumped down from Li Lizhi's arms and hopped over like a little rabbit: "Crown Prince Brother!"

Li Chengqian bent down and picked her up, his eyes filled with amusement: "What good things did you bring today?"

"Chocolate! And glasses!" Xiao Qingyi exclaimed proudly, "My brother said these glasses can protect my eyes!"

Li Chengqian took the glasses and examined them in his hand. The lenses shimmered with a faint blue light and were so light that they were almost weightless.

"Thank your brother for me," he said, putting on his glasses.

The world suddenly became much clearer—not because my eyesight improved, but because the light became softer, and the soreness caused by reading memorials for a long time seemed to be relieved.

"It really works." He was somewhat surprised.

"Of course!" Xiao Qingyi said proudly, "My brother is the best!"

Li Chengqian smiled and patted her head, then turned his gaze to Li Lizhi. The brother and sister exchanged a glance, saying nothing, yet understanding each other perfectly.

Let that secret remain a secret.

Xiao Qingyi played in the Lizheng Hall until evening. Before leaving, she ran to Li Lizhi and took out a small rabbit doll from her schoolbag—white fur, red eyes, and a pink bow around its neck.

"This is for my older sister," Xiao Qingyi said earnestly. "Mom said that if I hug the little rabbit to sleep at night, I won't have nightmares."

Li Lizhi took the doll; its soft, plush texture felt warm to the touch. The child must have noticed that she looked unwell, perhaps because she hadn't rested well.

"Thank you, Yiyi."

"You're welcome!" Xiao Qingyi waved her hand. "I'm going back now! I'll come visit you again tomorrow!"

As she spoke, she turned around and gave Li Chengqian a bright smile.

The next second, she disappeared.

The hall fell silent. The last rays of the setting sun shone through the windows, casting long shadows on the floor.

Li Chengqian took off his glasses and carefully put them into the box.

"Changle," he said softly, "I've been reading the Records of the Grand Historian lately."

Li Lizhi looked at him.

"When I read the biography of Empress Lü, I was thinking—" Li Chengqian's gaze fell out the window, "What kind of circumstances and what kind of mindset does a woman need to reach that point?"

He paused. "What I really want to know is, if she were given another path—a path where she could showcase her talents without having to go that far—would she still make the same choice?"

Li Lizhi was shocked.

"What my brother means is..."

"I didn't mean anything by it." Li Chengqian withdrew his gaze, his tone calm. "I just feel that in this life, we all walk our own paths. And how we walk those paths often depends on... the kind of people we meet along the way, and the kind of scenery we see."

As he spoke, he took out a memorial from his sleeve: "The trial planting of new rice in Henan Province this year has yielded 30% more per mu than in previous years. Those seeds were brought by Qingyi."

Li Lizhi took the memorial and opened it. It detailed the trial planting process, the harvest data, and the joy of the local people.

"My father praised me in court this morning," Li Chengqian continued. "He said that the Crown Prince has been handling matters more and more thoroughly lately, showing the demeanor of a future heir apparent."

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of his mouth: "He didn't know that all this 'thoughtfulness' came from a little girl's schoolbag 1,400 years later."

"Big brother..." Li Lizhi wanted to say something, but Li Chengqian raised his hand to stop her.

"I'm not complaining." His eyes were clear. "On the contrary, I'm thinking—if knowledge from 1,400 years in the future can make the people of the Zhenguan era live better lives, then that's a good deed, a great merit."

"As for those futures that have not yet happened..." He stood up, walked to the palace gate, and looked at the darkening sky. "Let them remain 'not yet happened' for now."

Li Lizhi hugged the rabbit doll, the warmth of its fur seeping through her fingertips into her heart.

"Brother," she said softly, "I've met that Wu family member."

Li Chengqian's back stiffened slightly.

"How is it?" His voice was calm.

"Fourteen years old, with clear, bright eyes, neither humble nor arrogant," Li Lizhi said truthfully. "She looked...no different from other young ladies."

Silence fell over the hall.

After a long silence, Li Chengqian finally spoke slowly: "Let's leave it at that for now."

He turned around, his face regaining its usual composure: "By the way, Qingyi's brother mentioned something in his letter—his local historical records state that the climate in the eleventh year of the Zhenguan era should have been colder than it is now."

Li Lizhi was taken aback: "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is," Li Chengqian's gaze deepened, "that perhaps some changes have already begun."

Outside the window, the last ray of dawn disappeared below the horizon. Night, as dark as ink, quietly soaked into the entire city of Chang'an.

Meanwhile, in modern-day Sichuan, in the study of the Li family's old residence, Li Qingge was staring at the computer screen with a furrowed brow.

The screen displays an analysis of meteorological data—since last year, global climate data has shown some minor but statistically significant anomalies. In East Asia, in particular, temperatures have been 0.3 degrees Celsius higher than the historical average for the same period.

"Grandpa," he looked up, "the climate is really starting to change."

Across from him at the desk, Li Minghua put down his teacup, his gaze behind his glasses grave.

"How significant is the impact?"

"It's too early to say for sure," Li Qingge said, pulling up another set of data. "But according to model predictions, if this trend continues, grain production in the next few years could increase by five to ten percent compared to historical records."

The grandfather and grandson exchanged a glance, both seeing the same shock in each other's eyes.

Five to ten percent may not sound like much, but in the agricultural Tang Dynasty, it was enough to save millions of people from famine.

"Is it because of the grain seeds we sent?" Li Minghua asked.

"Impossible." Li Qingge shook her head. "Even if such a small number of seeds all survived and were widely distributed, it would take at least five years to affect the agricultural output of the entire Central Plains. It's more like..."

He paused, then found a phrase: "the butterfly effect."

"The butterfly effect?"

"A butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil could cause a tornado in Texas," Li Qingge explained. "What we send through Yiyi—knowledge, technology, or even just an idea—could trigger a series of chain reactions in the Tang Dynasty, ultimately affecting the global climate system."

Li Minghua fell silent. He walked to the window and looked at the old ancestral hall in the backyard.

In the darkness of night, the outline of the ancestral hall appeared blurred and mysterious under the moonlight.

"Qingge," he spoke slowly, "tell me... is what we're doing right or wrong?"

Li Qingge also walked to the window and stood side by side with her grandfather.

"I don't know," he said honestly, "but what I do know is that if we had the ability to help people of that era live better lives, but stood by because we were afraid of 'changing history,' that would be the biggest mistake."

He recalled how his younger sister would excitedly recount how her sister Sizi had recovered from her illness every time she returned from the Tang Dynasty, how Chengyang's sister had smiled, and how her brother, the Crown Prince, had praised the usefulness of the things she brought back...

"Grandpa," Li Qingge said softly, "look at Yiyi. She doesn't know anything; she just simply wants to help her friends and family in the Tang Dynasty. And her help has truly made that world a better place."

Li Minghua turned around and patted his grandson on the shoulder.

"You're right." A smile appeared in his eyes. "Then let's continue. But..."

His expression turned serious: "Next time I write to Chengqian, I must remind him—change is possible, but it must be done gradually. Some things, if they come too quickly, may not be a good thing."

"I understand." Li Qingge nodded. "Also, I've prepared some things; I'll have Yiyi take them next time."

"What is it?"

"A set of simple methods to improve the salt-making process." Li Qingge walked back to the computer, pulled up the organized data, and said, "In the Tang Dynasty, salt was mainly produced by boiling seawater or wells, which was inefficient, costly, and produced many impurities. I have compiled several simple improvement methods—for example, replacing part of the boiling process with sun-drying, which can significantly reduce fuel consumption; and simple filtration and purification steps that can remove bitterness and harmful substances."

Li Minghua frowned slightly as he looked at the content on the screen: "Salt... this is a sensitive commodity that is monopolized by the government."

"I know," Li Qingge said earnestly. "So what I've prepared are only methods for improving the production process, not salt administration reform. And I've specifically noted that these methods are suitable for small-scale pilot projects in coastal or salt well areas, with the aim of enabling the same amount of labor to produce more and better salt. If salt production can be increased, the price of salt might drop slightly, and the burden on ordinary people could be reduced."

He pulled up a diagram: "Look, the design of this salt-drying pond is very simple. Just use rammed clay as the bottom and build a low dike around it. The key is that it uses solar energy for evaporation, which saves a lot of manpower and resources compared to boiling salt with firewood."

Li Minghua looked carefully and nodded slowly: "That's true... Salt is a necessity of people's livelihood. If we can increase its production and quality, it will definitely be a good thing for the people."

"Furthermore," Li Qingge added, "I've also compiled some methods for storing salt to reduce losses during transportation and storage. Even if this knowledge isn't needed now, it can be used to let Crown Prince Chengqian learn about it first, and then we can try it out when the time is right."

The grandfather and grandson discussed things late into the night in the study. Outside the window, the moonlight, like water, quietly spilled onto the green tiles of the ancestral hall.

Inside the ancestral hall, the portrait of the "ancestor" appeared exceptionally clear in the moonlight.

The gaze of the person in the painting seems to have traversed a thousand years, gently watching over this world that belongs to his bloodline descendants.