In the thirteenth year of the Tianbao era: I became Yang Guozhong's eldest son.

Yang Guozhong's study was located in the northwest corner of the mansion, forming a separate courtyard.

Two osmanthus trees, each as thick as a person's embrace, stand in the courtyard. Although it is not the flowering season, their branches and leaves are as dense as a canopy.

Eight guards stood outside the study, each with a sword at his waist. When they saw Yang Xuan arrive, they all bowed and made way for him.

Yang Xuan pushed open the door and entered.

The study was brightly lit by more than a dozen copper lamps, making it as bright as day.

Yang Guozhong was sitting behind his desk, reading some documents, and didn't even look up when he heard footsteps.

"sit."

Yang Xuan sat down on the lower chair and examined this "father" by the light of the lamp.

Yang Guozhong is in his early fifties, with a thin face, high cheekbones, and a pair of triangular eyes that gleam with shrewdness.

He was dressed in a plain, simple round-necked robe, but he sat upright, exuding an aura of authority.

This is the Right Chancellor of the Tang Dynasty, a powerful minister second only to the emperor.

He was also a rogue who spent his early years in the streets and made a living by gambling.

A sense of absurdity rose in Yang Xuan's heart—he had studied the history of the Sui and Tang dynasties for so many years, and had written a 30,000-word paper analyzing Yang Guozhong's political gains and losses, and now this person was sitting in front of him, calling him Dalang.

"What did An Lushan say at the banquet today?" Yang Guozhong put down the documents and looked up at him.

Yang Xuan was prepared.

"Father, An Lushan showered me with compliments during the banquet, saying that His Majesty treated him like a son and praised your governance." He paused, "However, he asked his son one question—'Do you think I look like someone who would rebel?'"

Yang Guozhong's eyes narrowed suddenly.

"He said that to your face?"

"Yes. In front of a full house of guests, it was like a joke."

Yang Guozhong slammed his hand on the desk, causing the bronze lamp to flicker.

"Traitor! This traitor is clearly testing us!" He stood up and paced back and forth in the study. "I told His Majesty long ago that An Lushan is a wolf in sheep's clothing, a man who is raising a tiger to cause future trouble! He occupies the three towns of Fanyang, Pinglu, and Hedong, and commands 200,000 troops. He has both provisions and soldiers at his disposal—what else could this be but rebellion?"

Yang Xuan listened in silence.

He had read these words countless times in history books.

Yang Guozhong's judgment that An Lushan was going to rebel was correct.

But his approach was completely wrong.

He slandered An Lushan to Emperor Xuanzong, forcing him to come to the capital; assassinated An Lushan's confidant Ji Wen; withheld military pay in Fanyang; and sent men to kidnap An Lushan's staff in Chang'an...

Every step they took was pushing An Lushan to the brink of despair and pushing the timeline for rebellion forward.

You're right, An Lushan was indeed going to rebel.

But it's precisely because of what you did that he reacted so quickly and so fiercely.

"Father," Yang Xuan began, carefully choosing his words, "I have a question I would like to ask you."

Yang Guozhong stopped and looked at him.

"An Lushan commands an army of 200,000. If he truly intends to rebel, with our current military strength... can we stop him?"

The study was quiet for a moment.

Yang Guozhong's expression changed, seemingly not expecting his son to ask such a question.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is," Yang Xuan looked directly into his father's eyes, "if An Lushan really rebels, what will happen to our Yang family?"

Yang Guozhong remained silent for a moment, then let out a cold laugh.

"He can't rebel." He said confidently. "His Majesty is wise and powerful; he will see through his tricks. I have already submitted a memorial requesting His Majesty to summon An Lushan to court as a chancellor, a promotion in name only, stripping him of his military power. Once his military power is taken away—"

"He won't come," Yang Xuan blurted out.

Yang Guozhong was taken aback.

Yang Xuan realized he had spoken too hastily. He quickly tried to correct himself.

"What my son means is that An Lushan came to the capital prepared this time. He cried and pleaded before His Majesty, portraying himself as a victim. If we summon him to the capital again, he will most likely feign illness and not come. At that time, it will seem that our Yang family is forcing him."

Yang Guozhong frowned, but did not refute.

Because what Yang Xuan said was true.

Historically, Yang Guozhong did indeed suggest that An Lushan enter the court as prime minister in order to seize military power, but An Lushan did not fall for it at all.

Afterwards, Yang Guozhong sent people to Fanyang to search An Lushan's house—but they found no evidence and instead alerted An Lushan.

One step wrong, step by step wrong.

"And what's your opinion?" Yang Guozhong sat back down in his chair, his tone carrying a hint of scrutiny.

Yang Xuan's mind raced.

He can't say too much.

Anyone would be suspicious if a 25-year-old playboy suddenly seemed to know everything about the world's affairs.

He had to express himself in a way that was appropriate for his status.

"My son doesn't understand politics, but he has read a few military books." Yang Xuan lowered his tone. "The art of war says, 'Know yourself and know your enemy.' We know that An Lushan has rebellious intentions, but how much do we know about the real situation in Fanyang? How many soldiers has he trained? How much grain has he stockpiled? Which generals has he bribed? If we know nothing about these things, then impeaching him or stripping him of his power is just like the blind men touching an elephant."

Yang Guozhong remained silent, lost in thought.

Yang Xuan struck while the iron was hot.

"Instead of pressuring him, we should investigate him. We should secretly send people to various prefectures in Hebei to gather information and find out his background. Once we have solid evidence, we can report it to His Majesty—by then, even if His Majesty wants to protect him, he won't be able to."

These words are reasonable and well-founded, and the key point is that they do not refute Yang Guozhong's judgment.

Yang Guozhong's biggest pet peeve is when others say he's wrong.

You can give him advice, but you can't criticize him.

Sure enough, Yang Guozhong's expression softened.

"You've certainly improved since then." He looked Yang Xuan up and down. "Before, all you knew was cockfighting and horse racing, but today you've managed to say a few words that make sense."

Yang Xuan smiled bitterly to himself.

It's not that I've improved, it's that I've become a different person.

"However—" Yang Guozhong changed the subject, "I have my own arrangements for the investigation. I called you here for another matter."

He picked up a letter from his desk and threw it in front of Yang Xuan.

"His Majesty will be hosting a farewell banquet for An Lushan at the Hua'e Xianghui Tower tomorrow. I will also be there, and you may come with me."

Yang Xuan's heart stirred.

An Lushan's farewell banquet – meaning that An Lushan was about to leave the capital.

Historically, after leaving Beijing, An Lushan rushed back to Fanyang day and night, ordering his men to speed up the journey, "fearing that Yang Guozhong would send men to pursue him." From that moment on, he began to prepare for war with all his might.

This farewell banquet was Yang Xuan's last face-to-face meeting with An Lushan in Chang'an.

"Since Father is going too, why did he specifically ask his son to come along?" Yang Xuan asked.

Yang Guozhong snorted coldly.

"I will naturally attend the banquet held before the Emperor," Yang Guozhong sneered. "But I will go to save face for His Majesty, not to fawn over An Lushan."

"You go too. Keep an eye on that scoundrel for me and see what he does before leaving the capital. If there's an opportunity during the banquet, say a few words to His Majesty, following my lead, so that he knows this man is no good."

Yang Xuan nodded.

"My son understands."

He stood up to say goodbye, but as he reached the door, Yang Guozhong suddenly called him back.

"Da Lang".

Yang Xuan turned around.

Yang Guozhong sat behind his brightly lit desk, his expression flickering in the light and shadow.

"What is An Lushan?" His voice was deep and resolute. "What trouble can a barbarian, born a slave of a Hu, cause? With His Majesty here, and with me, Yang Guozhong, here, the sky of the Tang Dynasty will not fall."

Yang Xuan remained silent for a moment.

"Father is right."

He turned and walked out of the study.

The moonlight shone on the osmanthus tree in the courtyard, casting swaying shadows like ghosts.

Yang Xuan stood under the moonlight and let out a long breath.

The sky of the Tang Dynasty will not fall?

You'll find out in a year.

The problem is—by then you'll be dead, and I'll be dead too.

He clenched his fists.

No.

I will not die at Mawei Post Station.

But to survive, simply staying in Chang'an is not enough.

This city is a cage—as long as Yang Guozhong is alive, he is a member of the Yang family; as long as the Yang family is alive, he cannot escape the fate of his entire family being wiped out.

He needs a way out.

A path to leave the Yang family and Chang'an, while still surviving the An Lushan Rebellion.

An idea gradually took shape in my mind.

Yang Xuan looked up at the moon over Chang'an and suddenly gave a self-deprecating laugh.

He traveled through countless time-travel novels set in the most golden Tang Dynasty, but the first thing he had to do wasn't to conquer the world, but to find a way to escape alive.

God has a penchant for the wicked.