Unifying script and wheel tracks, laying the foundation; hidden currents hone the blade (I)

The sky over Hua Country was eerily clear that day. Chang'an City awoke in the dawn light, yet a bone-deep chill seemed to have seeped into every brick and stone of this newborn capital.

Since Xun Yu, Minister of the Secretariat, had taken charge of domestic administration, Hua Country, a machine tempered in the fires of war, seemed to have been infused with a steady, efficient soul. Abroad, it retained a military edge sharp enough to make the nations of the West Blue hold their breath; at home, a transformation far more profound than the clash of blades on a battlefield, and destined to have a far more enduring impact, was advancing silently yet with unwavering resolve. "One script, one wheel gauge"-these six seemingly plain, unadorned characters embodied a grand undertaking intended to lay a foundation that would endure unchanged for all ages. Its implementation entwined wisdom and resistance, struggles for advantage and deadly peril, making it far more complex and dangerous than a simple war.

In the southeastern corner of Chang'an City, the former Flower Country's royal library, with its upturned eaves and interlocking brackets, which housed the world's collected texts, had been given a new mission and a new name: "Wenyuan Pavilion." Chen Yu had personally written the inscription on its black plaque in gold lettering, his vigorous strokes faintly suggesting a coiled dragon. The place appeared no different from before. Figures dressed as scholars still came and went, the ancient pines before its doors remained green, and birds occasionally called.

But anyone with keen senses who approached could faintly detect the occasional sharp glint in the eyes of the seemingly lax guards, as well as concealed sentries almost indistinguishable from their surroundings in the shadows of the walls. This place had become the central hub for implementing