In the city of Bianliang, within the imperial gardens of Genyue—
After days of relentless demolition by Doraemon and his companions, most of the pavilions and towers had been razed to the ground.
Only a small and exquisitely crafted courtyard remained, preserved as the temporary residence of the Daoist master Guo Jing.
This courtyard nestled within a miniature valley of elegant design—verdant peaks rose in graceful succession, with strange stones and crystal-clear streams weaving through the landscape. Waterfalls cascaded into iridescent pools, forming a natural spectacle where water shimmered and rocks gleamed beneath the sunlight in a kaleidoscope of color, captivating the eye without ever wearying it.
Seated by the jade-colored pond, one could hear the gentle murmur of falling water, admire the green bamboo and moss along the banks, and watch the rippling reflections dance upon the surface. In such a tranquil setting, the heart found calm with ease—especially amidst the oppressive and unusual heat that plagued the city.
At this moment, Guo Jing had gone to court to pay homage to the emperor, leaving Doraemon and the others to tally the gains of their recent demolition campaign.
"…Lumber, jade, gemstones, gold, jewelry, spices… altogether, these were pawned for a total of sixteen billion yen," Doraemon declared, tapping away on his calculator before jotting down the figure with a pencil. "It's a bit less than we expected… But we've pretty much scoured Genyue clean. There's not much more to be squeezed out."
—Indeed, given the productivity of the ancient era, it was already a considerable feat for these time-travelers to extract so much wealth from a Northern Song imperial garden.
To put it in perspective: at the current rate of sixty-four yen per gram of silver, four thousand yen equaled one tael of ancient silver. That meant sixteen billion yen translated into eight million taels of silver—a fortune by any measure.
(Ancient weights and measures for precious metals differed from daily goods: one jin equaled sixteen taels.)
Yet for Doraemon, burdened with a staggering three hundred billion yen debt, this windfall was barely a drop in the bucket.
Even after resorting to such drastic measures as transforming winter into summer, the group had only earned under five hundred reward points according to the "Chronicles of Time Travel"—a dishearteningly small return.
As frustration simmered, a group of lovely palace maids approached with food boxes in hand, fluttering like butterflies. Wang Qiu's eyes lit up at the sight—the young women might not have been of celestial beauty, but their features were refined and graceful, their skin porcelain smooth, their brows delicate and eyes almond-shaped, with dainty noses and cherry lips. As they moved, the ornaments at their waists jingled softly, evoking ripples of desire.
These women, once assigned as imperial "furnaces" in the pursuit of immortality, now served at Guo Jing's behest, attending to him and his "disciples."
—Emperor Zhao Ji of the Song, self-styled the Daoist Sovereign, sought eternal life not through asceticism but through a twisted practice of absorbing yin to nourish yang. According to the sorcerers he trusted, the ideal "furnace" was a sixteen-year-old virgin, her skin flawless, her bones delicate, her features perfectly proportioned—and the more, the better. At the peak, Zhao Ji had kept thousands of such maidens within Genyue and his harem.
Although the invasions during the Jingkang years and the collapse of the Song throne had dispersed many court attendants, more than a hundred of these young women remained—more than enough to dazzle Wang Qiu and his companions. These fragile beauties, eager to flatter, nearly offered themselves outright. Even Nobita, the elementary school boy, found himself blushing under their teasing smiles.
Alas, Bianliang was in the grip of war, not romance. And with the upright Doraemon always close by, Wang Qiu, despite his stirred emotions, dismissed the girls after they set down the meal boxes.
"Let's rest a moment and cool off with some mung bean porridge. Compared to those dying of heat outside the city, we are truly fortunate."
He opened the box, retrieving celadon bowls and handing them to Doraemon and Nobita, while turning the conversation to military matters.
—To keep abreast of the siege, Doraemon had deployed a set of Mini Reconnaissance Satellites shortly after arriving in this timeline, constantly monitoring the movements of the Jin army outside the walls.
Thus, when the Song forces launched a sortie, Wang Qiu had been tracking the battle live via the computer screen.
"This morning, under the insistence of Prime Minister He Su, Inspector Fan Qiong led four thousand soldiers from the East Water Gate in a surprise attack. Though the sweltering heat greatly weakened the Jin cavalry, allowing the Song to achieve initial gains, they were ultimately overwhelmed. Fewer than two hundred men returned alive, and Fan Qiong himself was trampled into pulp by the enemy horsemen…"
Wang Qiu narrated the grim scene while sipping the porridge, "Though our losses were severe, the Jin casualties may be worse. Many of their warriors collapsed from heatstroke mid-charge, and horses died en masse, throwing their riders in the process. The Song forces even set fire to the Jin camp during their retreat. I estimate the Jin suffered over twenty thousand casualties, and their morale has surely plummeted…"
"…What? They just dropped dead while running? These ancient warriors are awfully fragile!"
Doraemon peered at the monitor, incredulous. "Are these really the fearsome soldiers of legend?"
To Wang Qiu, the explanation was obvious:
In 42-degree Celsius heat, under scorching sun and oppressive humidity, these northern nomads—used to braving ice and snow—were forced into hours of brutal melee combat. Was this not sheer suicide?
Even he, watching from the shade while fanning himself, was drenched in sweat and ready to faint.
Ah, how he longed for the air conditioning of home!
Then, a wild idea struck him.
"…Hey, Doraemon, since the Weather Controller is so effective, why don't we raise the temperature even higher—say, fifty degrees? We could roast the Jin army alive! Brilliant, right?"
Before Doraemon could answer, Guo Jing, freshly returned from court, paled in terror.
"Don't! Absolutely not!"
Seeing Doraemon already retrieving the device from his pocket, the sweat-soaked Daoist frantically waved his arms.
"Yes, the Jin are suffering, but the people inside the city are no better! Especially those pampered officials—they collapse in droves just from standing in court! Even the emperor, though strangely resilient, isn't immune. As for the retired emperor, Zhao Ji? He's on the verge of collapse!"
Indeed, such extreme heat was a double-edged sword. It weakened the Jin invaders, yes, but it also pushed Bianliang's defenders to their limits.
Despite its beauty and refinement, the Northern Song capital lacked the martial spirit of the Han and Tang dynasties.
—Bianliang once held a population of over a million, fortified by thick walls and home to the empire's finest craftsmen. Yet when the Jin army approached, there weren't even enough troops to guard the walls.
Consider this: even if only 500,000 people remained, drawing just one able-bodied man from every five households would yield 100,000 defenders—more than sufficient to repel 150,000 Jin soldiers. The attackers, by ancient siege standards, should have been at a disadvantage.
Compare this to Carthage in the Third Punic War: after surrendering all weapons under Roman coercion, they still forged arms from household items, women's hair, and melted statues—and held out for three years.
But Bianliang? It surrendered in under a month. Such cowardice, such incompetence!
The saying rings true: "Those to be pitied often have their own failings."
Yes, the Jin warriors perished by the thousands from heat and disease, yet they endured. Meanwhile, the spoiled citizens of Bianliang, after just a few scorching days, were full of complaints. The guards refused to man the walls, and citizens dragged coffins to government offices in protest of their dead. Guo Jing, once hailed as a savior, was now cursed as the villain, blamed for every casualty.
With no choice, the weary Daoist persuaded Doraemon to deactivate the Weather Controller.
By evening, amid mixed relief and resentment, the city's temperature plummeted to a frigid minus fifteen degrees Celsius.
Thousands caught colds from the sudden change, but the cold at least halted the spread of disease.
Then came a new, vexing development—
The Jin commander, Wanyan Zongwang, sent envoys proposing peace talks.
And once again, in the halls of the Song court, voices rose in favor of surrender.