The Tang Dynasty in the Sand Table: Starting by Feeding a Small Rhinoceros

In the early morning, the air in the Rikjeongjeon Hall still carried the lingering scent of the calming incense from the previous night.

Empress Zhangsun sat before the sandalwood table, her gaze fixed on the copy of the Heavenly Book pressed down by the crystal paperweight, and did not look away for a full half hour.

The thought that took root in her mind last night grew wildly overnight. As long as a connection could be established, there would be hope for a cure for Sizi's illness.

"Qinglan." Empress Zhangsun tilted her head slightly and lowered her voice.

"This servant is here."

"Go to the inner treasury and fetch the finest quality Chengxin paper. Also, select a brand-new purple-tipped brush and that white jade paperweight."

Qinglan's heart skipped a beat, and she immediately accepted the order and left. In less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the items were placed back on the table as they were.

Empress Zhangsun stood up, washed her hands, and personally took the ink stick. She ground it very slowly on the Duan inkstone until the ink was as black as lacquer, then gently set the ink stick down.

The moment she picked up the pen, her wrist hovered in mid-air, unable to fall for a long time.

What should I write?

Write a lengthy treatise? No, the wrath of Heaven is unpredictable. If I were to offend the Celestial Venerable with any word, I would be playing with the fate of the entire Tang Dynasty.

Complaining about your troubles and asking for medicine? No, that won't work either. The immortals hate mortals who are greedy and insatiable. If someone comes up and asks for things right away, it will only make the royal family seem arrogant and ignorant.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and pondered for a long time. When she opened her eyes again, her phoenix eyes were filled with determination.

With a slight dip of the wrist, the purple-tipped brush danced across the pristine white paper.

In a short while, only eight small characters in running script remained on the paper: "Thank you for your kindness, Immortal Venerable; I am willing to protect the princess."

Without asking a single question, without the slightest supplication, and without daring to utter the slightest hint of probing, there was only the purest gratitude and obedience to the divine decree.

Empress Zhangsun and the others, their ink dried, picked up the light paper with both hands and walked steadily to the soft couch in the side hall. She accurately identified the spot where the A4 paper had fallen the night before, laid her reply flat on it, and finally placed the white jade paperweight on top.

"Everyone inside the hall, retreat to the outside and wait. Without my decree, no one is allowed to peek in."

She waved her hand, dismissing all the palace maids and eunuchs from the hall.

In the vast side hall, only the little Sizi, barefoot, was rolling around on the couch.

Empress Zhangsun stood behind the screen, holding her breath, her eyes fixed on the white jade paperweight. She wanted to verify a pattern she had deduced—the Immortal Venerable only recognized Si Zi, so if Si Zi was present, would the Immortal Venerable simply take this reply letter as easily as dropping milk and sugar?

Time slips away, bit by bit.

The sunlight climbed from the window frame onto the gold brick, and then slowly moved to the edge of the offering table.

A whole morning has passed.

The sheet of clear paper remained pressed firmly in its original place.

Sizi, who had been playing nearby, finished a small piece of pastry, rubbed her greasy little hands on her clothes, and then, feeling it wasn't clean, climbed over to the paperweight.

The little guy tilted his head and looked at the piece of paper with writing on it, then stretched out a wet finger and pressed hard on the corner of the paper.

A tiny oil stain immediately spread.

"Fun!" Si Zi chuckled, then pressed four or five more fingerprints, creating a comical border around the top-secret thank-you note written by Empress Zhangsun herself.

Empress Zhangsun, behind the screen, sighed inwardly and came out to wipe her daughter's hands clean with a silk handkerchief.

She looked at the still sky, feeling resentful.

In the afternoon, she ordered Qinglan to bring her a small, carved gold bell left over from the previous dynasty. This gold bell was extremely exquisite in its craftsmanship, a rare treasure even in the royal treasury.

Empress Zhangsun carefully placed the golden bell next to the letter, treating it as an offering to heaven.

She continued to wait.

Even as the sun completely set behind the palace walls and the hall fell into darkness, the paper and the golden bell remained lying quietly on the soft couch.

Empress Zhangsun rubbed her aching temples and finally admitted to herself: sending a message to the heavens was not an option for the time being.

……

Jiangcheng, a rented room.

Li Mo, holding a bowl of freshly made braised beef noodles, stood beside the corrugated cardboard box, taking in everything that was happening inside the Tang Dynasty's Lizheng Hall.

He slurped up a mouthful of noodles, watching Empress Zhangsun set out paper and pen, watching the prince press his handprint, and then watching the glittering little golden bell be placed into the sand tray.

"A golden bell made by the royal family..."

Li Mo swallowed hard, a burning glint in his eyes. If he could just take this thing out and pawn it at a jewelry store, he'd have his rent covered for the next two months!

He put down the instant noodle bowl and tentatively reached his right hand toward the opening of the corrugated cardboard box.

Before his hand could even reach in, an invisible barrier pushed him back. Like a transparent wall, soft yet insurmountable, it firmly blocked his five fingers at the edge of the opening.

Li Mo applied more force, but the barrier remained unmoved.

He changed his angle and used his index finger to probe down the inner wall of the cardboard box, but the result was the same—touching that invisible interface was like poking into jelly; he could feel the elasticity, but he could never penetrate it.

When you put things in, there's no problem, but when you try to take things out, the door locks.

Li Mo withdrew his hand, looked at his palm, and his expression became somewhat solemn.

"One-way transmission."

This word became so clear in his mind for the first time.

He could only project things from the real world into the Tang Dynasty, but he couldn't take anything out of the Tang Dynasty at all.

This discovery left Li Mo with mixed feelings.

On the one hand, he did breathe a sigh of relief. The one-way physical isolation of the sand table meant that the Tang Dynasty's army, imperial physicians, and even those deadly poisons could never penetrate the cardboard box and pose a threat to his real life. He was in a completely safe, high-dimensional perspective.

But on the other hand, a strong sense of anxiety welled up inside me.

If the future Si Zi really suffers a qi ailment, or if something goes wrong in the Tang Dynasty, he can only stand outside the box and stare helplessly. He can't hear the ancients' complex pulse diagnosis analysis, nor can he obtain the medical records of the Tang Dynasty's imperial physicians; all his judgments will have to be guessed by his own eyes.

The ancients couldn't explain it to him, and he couldn't get them to write down his symptoms on paper and hand it to him.

"No, this communication barrier must be broken down."

Li Mo turned around, strode to the desk, and grabbed the thick black marker.

Since written words evoke extreme awe in them, making them hesitant to interpret them, and since they cannot receive replies from them, they must establish a set of rules that can be enforced without requiring feedback, using the most direct and forceful method.

He pulled out a brand new A4 sheet of paper and laid it flat on the table.

Li Mo's gaze became focused as he uncapped the pen.

He wanted to draw something on the paper.

There are barriers to written words, but not to paintings. He wanted to use this painting to completely dispel the misunderstandings of the people of the Tang Dynasty about immortality, and to directly intervene in the daily life of the Lizheng Palace.