My Imperial Advisor is ChatGPT

Chapter 104 Mendel's Peas: The Secret of Reap What You Sow

In early summer in Xianyang, the breeze is gentle and pleasant.

While the industrial machines of the Qin Dynasty roared amidst the smoke and steam, a suffocating silence permeated a corner of the Epang Palace, in a newly completed "Qin Royal Agricultural Academy".

There was no clanging of metal, no explosions, only countless low, mechanical counting sounds, as if they came from the depths of hell.

"One thousand two hundred and thirty-four...round ones."

"One thousand two hundred and thirty-five... wrinkled."

"One thousand two hundred and thirty-six... yellow ones."

The dean of the Agricultural College, who was also the most famous old farmer in the Qin Dynasty—Old Man Tian (now renamed "Tian Ji"), was sitting in front of a mountain of peas, tears streaming down his face.

His eyes were bloodshot, and his fingers were black and swollen from shelling peas for so long. Around him, dozens of young agricultural students also wore expressions of utter despair, as if they were shelling not peas, but their own lives.

"What a tragedy..." Tian Ji muttered, his voice trembling with tears, as he counted the peas. "I've farmed all my life, and all I ever knew was that peas were for eating. I never imagined they were used for 'roll call'!"

"Dean, I'm dying..." A student collapsed in a pile of beans, holding a shriveled mung bean in his hand. "I think I just saw this bean smile at me. It looks just like Magistrate Zhao..."

"Snapped!"

Tian Ji slapped the student on the forehead: "Don't talk nonsense! You think you can make up stories about Magistrate Zhao? He's our God of Wealth! Hurry up and count! The Imperial Advisor said that if we don't finish counting this pile today, nobody's allowed to eat!"

Just then, the sound of leather boots hitting the ground came from outside the door.

Wang Jianguo, dressed in a white lab coat (actually a bleached linen robe) and carrying a thick notebook, strode in with a spirited air. Behind him followed a curious Ying Zheng and Zhao Gao, who always wanted to get involved in any excitement.

"How's it going, Dean Tian? Have the data come out yet?" Wang Jianguo asked as soon as he entered the room.

When Tian Ji saw the Imperial Advisor arrive, followed by the Emperor, he was so frightened that he quickly got up to pay his respects and also tried to hide his bitter expression.

"Reporting to...reporting to the Imperial Preceptor, reporting to Your Majesty. We...we've finished counting." Tian Ji held the account book, his hands trembling. "As you instructed, we've peeled off every single seed from this batch of 'hybrid generation' seeds after self-pollination, sorted them by color, and examined their shape."

"And the result?" Wang Jianguo's eyes lit up.

Tian Ji swallowed hard and recited a string of dry numbers:

"Three thousand one hundred and fifty-two yellow soybeans."

"One thousand and eighty-four green beans."

"1,016 yellow wrinkled soybeans."

"Thirty-two green wrinkled beans... no, three hundred and thirty-three."

After reciting the numbers, Tian Ji cautiously looked at Ying Zheng: "Your Majesty, this...this is just a pile of beans. Our Great Qin has so many important things to do, why are we counting beans here? Could there be an elixir of immortality hidden in these beans?"

Ying Zheng didn't speak, but looked at Wang Jianguo. He was also very curious about the secret behind this plan to have the imperial garden cleared out and planted with peas.

Wang Jianguo took the ledger, quickly did some calculations, and a mysterious smile appeared on his lips.

"Your Majesty, look."

Wang Jianguo wrote several proportions on the blackboard (a wooden board stained with ink):

3.15:1

3.01:1

"No matter how many we plant, no matter where they grow, as long as it is a specific hybrid combination, their offspring will always follow this ratio—three to one."

Wang Jianguo tapped the blackboard, sending chalk dust flying.

"This is not a coincidence. This is the way of Heaven."

"The Way of Heaven?"

These two words struck a nerve with Ying Zheng. Was the Way of Heaven hidden in this pile of broken beans?

"Your Majesty, this is the code to life." Wang Jianguo began his performance.

He drew two circles, one labeled "manifest" and the other "hidden".

"We can view the characteristics of life as determined by 'factors' given by both parents, each contributing half. For example, in this pea, the yellow gene is more dominant, which we call dominant; the green gene is more reserved, which we call recessive."

"When a yellow factor and a green factor meet, the yellow is too dominant and covers up the green. So, the bean looks yellow. Only when two green factors meet, and neither of them interferes with the other, will the bean show its green color."

Wang Jianguo explained Mendel's laws of inheritance in the most colloquial Qin dialect.

"And this ratio of three to one is the ironclad mathematical law of their permutations and combinations. No one can escape it, not even the emperor... cough cough, not even the gods."

Ying Zheng listened intently.

He may not understand genetics, but he understands political maneuvering. Isn't this just a power struggle in the imperial court? The strong suppress the weak, and only when the strong are gone can the weak rise to power.

"You mean..." Ying Zheng mused, "You reap what you sow, not because Heaven is in a good mood, but because this... 'factor' is already written into their bodies?"

"Exactly!" Wang Jianguo nodded. "Your Majesty, this means that we no longer need to rely on luck to farm. We can put together the good factors and kick out the bad ones, like a jigsaw puzzle."

"For example, we can breed a type of wheat that has the yield of southern rice and the cold resistance of northern wheat. We can breed a type of pig that only grows meat without gaining fat and eats very little."

"This is—genetic breeding."

Upon hearing about pigs that "only gain weight but not fat," Zhao Gao's eyes lit up. He had recently been eating too much braised pork, causing his waistline to balloon, and he was worried about how to lose weight.

"Imperial Advisor, is it possible to cultivate a type of person who can eat without gaining weight?" Zhao Gao interjected.

Wang Jianguo rolled his eyes at him: "Lord Zhao, those are called roundworms."

Although the pea theory is brilliant, for the Qin Dynasty, a war machine, its most direct application was on horseback.

Taipuji (the institution responsible for raising horses), the Royal Horse Stables.

Meng Tian was looking at a group of warhorses with a troubled expression.

With the development of heavy industry in the Qin Dynasty, the army's equipment became increasingly heavy. Plate armor, artillery, and heavy supply wagons all posed a severe challenge to the carrying capacity of warhorses.

The old-fashioned, agile Mongolian horses, while possessing great endurance, were simply not up to the task of carrying cavalrymen carrying 200-pound iron cans in a charge.

"Too thin...too small..." Meng Tian patted the rump of a warhorse and sighed, "If it could have the size of the Akhal-Teke horses from the Western Regions, plus the stamina of the Qin horses, it would be perfect."

"General Meng, you can't get this kind of horse by making a wish."

Wang Jianguo led Tian Ji and several students carrying rulers and account books over.

"Grand Preceptor?" Meng Tian was taken aback. "Weren't you counting beans? Why are you counting horses' legs now?"

"Counting beans is to understand principles, and counting horse legs is to apply those principles." Wang Jianguo pointed to the horse farm. "From today onwards, we will create files for all the stallions and mares of Daqin."

"file?"

"Yes. Not only do we have to remember how fast and how high it runs, but we also have to trace its ancestry back three generations!" Wang Jianguo took out a complicated form—"The Bloodline Chart of the Great Qin Warhorse".

"In the past, when you were breeding horses, you would just pick whichever horse you liked and bring it to breed. That was just blind luck."

Wang Jianguo pointed to a tall stallion: "Although this horse is tall, its father has a problem with weak legs (a recessive gene), and its grandfather has night blindness. If it is allowed to breed, the foal born will likely be all show and no substance."

"What we're looking for are 'purebreds' that are strong and without any hidden defects for generations. Then, we'll use hybrid vigor to breed horses with different strengths together."

The following month, Royal Racecourse was in complete chaos.

All the stallions were forcibly taken for a "physical examination." Their lung capacity was measured (by putting a bag over their heads to help them breathe), their explosive power was measured (by pulling a dynamometer), and they were even tested for intelligence (by navigating a maze).

Those stallions who usually acted arrogantly and domineeringly were ruthlessly castrated and turned into drudges for the slightest imperfection. Meanwhile, the truly outstanding "gene carriers" lived like emperors.

Guided by genetics, the first batch of "Daqin Heavy Draft Horse" embryos, bred through targeted breeding, quietly developed inside the mares.

Although it would take time for them to be born, Meng Tian looked at those meticulous data tables and realized for the first time that the birth of horses could be calculated.

The tide of science always manages to reach some strange corners.

After hearing the theories of "dominant and recessive traits" and "hereditary factors," Zhao Gao fell into a deep anxiety.

The Zhao residence, study.

Zhao Gao looked in the mirror at his face, which, though no longer young, was still well-maintained (full of collagen), and then touched his supposedly very intelligent head.

"Our family is so clever, so good at making money, so good at serving people..." Zhao Gao muttered to himself, "If these excellent 'factors' were to be cut off, wouldn't it be a loss for Qin? A loss for the entire world?"

He recalled what Wang Jianguo had said: "Put the good factors together and kick out the bad factors."

"If our family could have an heir, and we could find a beautiful princess to marry him, wouldn't the child be both intelligent and good-looking, and even become a high-ranking official?" Zhao Gao thought, his mouth watering as he imagined it.

But he soon realized a serious problem.

He was a eunuch.

Physical defects are a fundamental flaw that no biological theory can compensate for.

"No way! We won't accept this!"

Zhao Gao gritted his teeth and ran to find Wang Jianguo.

In the laboratory of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, Wang Jianguo is observing pollen under a microscope.

"Imperial Advisor! Help!" Zhao Gao knelt down with a thud, startling Wang Jianguo.

"Lord Zhao, what's wrong? Have the stocks fallen again?"

"No! It's something far more important than money!" Zhao Gao tugged at Wang Jianguo's sleeve. "Grand Preceptor, since you can make peas grow peas and horses grow horses, could you... could you help this servant?"

Wang Jianguo looked completely bewildered: "Help you with what? Help you have a baby?"

"Yes!" Zhao Gao exclaimed, her eyes brimming with tears. "Although... well... my body is inconvenient, my 'qi' is still there! Is there a way... to give birth without... that way? Like in mythology, conception through sensing? Or to conjure a child from a drop of my blood?"

Wang Jianguo looked at Zhao Gao with an extremely complicated expression.

This old eunuch actually thought of "cloning" technology?

"Lord Zhao," Wang Jianguo sighed, patting Zhao Gao on the shoulder, "your ideas are very forward-thinking. Two thousand years from now, perhaps it really is possible to create a replica of you from a single hair of yours. But right now..."

"How is it now?" Zhao Gao asked hopefully.

"The first law of genetics is that sexual reproduction requires sex," Wang Jianguo bluntly shattered his illusion. "Moreover, even if you have children, intelligence is a complex trait controlled by multiple genes, and it also depends on the environment and education. Just because you are smart doesn't mean your child will be smart."

"Besides," Wang Jianguo added, "most of your intelligence is 'acquired' survival wisdom (cunning), which...is not hereditary."

Zhao Gao was stunned.

It was like a bolt from the blue.

"Not...not hereditary?" Zhao Gao slumped to the ground, his face ashen. "Then who will inherit all this talent (and wicked schemes), this immense wealth, this...this extraordinary skill in rubber and oil refining?"

"Pass it on to your apprentices," Wang Jianguo comforted him. "The transmission of science relies on books and education, not blood ties. Confucius didn't spread his teachings through his sons; he relied on his three thousand disciples."

Zhao Gao blinked, seemingly processing those words.

"apprentice……"

He thought of his good-for-nothing younger brother Zhao Cheng, and his bunch of godchildren who only knew how to flatter him.

"So be it." Zhao Gao got up from the ground, dusted himself off, and looked dejected. "It seems our family's excellent genes are destined to be a thing of the past. Truly, heaven is jealous of talent!"

After saying that, he walked out with a solemn and tragic gait, his back view resembling that of a lonely artist.

Wang Jianguo watched his retreating figure and couldn't help but shake his head: "That old eunuch, he's really putting on a show."

Autumn has arrived.

In the royal experimental fields, the first batch of genetically modified wheat and rice yielded a bumper harvest. Although the yields did not reach the terrifying levels of later generations, they were a full 20% higher than before.

In another field, a crop from the New World—corn—also bore golden ears. This was brought back by Xu Fu on his second voyage (although he had not yet found the Americas, he had obtained seeds through trade on some islands).

Ying Zheng stood in the cornfield, peeled open an ear of corn, and looked at the neatly arranged, glittering kernels.

"Like teeth," Ying Zheng commented.

"Your Majesty, this is corn," Wang Jianguo introduced. "It has an extremely high yield and is drought-resistant and can thrive in poor soil. Moreover, it is very suitable for genetic experiments. It has abundant pollen and mutates quickly."

Ying Zheng broke off a raw corn kernel, put it in his mouth, chewed it, and a sweet juice flowed out.

"Sweet."

Looking at the endless fields of crops, Ying Zheng suddenly asked:

"Jianguo, if we follow Mendel's principles, is my empire just like these crops?"

"What does Your Majesty mean?"

"I am the First Emperor. I hope the Qin Dynasty will last forever. But can my descendants truly be stronger with each generation?" A hint of worry flashed in Ying Zheng's eyes. "If, like those inferior peas, a 'wrinkled-skinned' (tyrannical) ruler emerges every other generation, wouldn't the Qin Dynasty be doomed?"

This is an age-old problem. The biggest flaw in the feudal dynasty's "family-run" system was the genetic lottery of the heir to the throne.

Wang Jianguo remained silent for a moment.

He couldn't just say, "Your son Hu Hai is a complete idiot."

"Your Majesty," Wang Jianguo carefully chose his words, "genetics tells us to 'select the best and breed the best.' But for governing a country, bloodline is only one part. More important is—the environment."

"Even the best seeds won't grow into good crops if planted in saline-alkali soil. But ordinary seeds can yield abundant fruit if given fertile soil and plenty of sunshine and rain."

"The Qin system is the soil. The Qin law is the sunlight. As long as the system is good, even if the successor is not a genius, as long as he abides by the rules, the Qin machine can continue to operate."

"Conversely, if the system is flawed, even a god descending to earth cannot save it."

After listening, Ying Zheng remained silent for a long time.

He looked at the corn in his hand, as if he had realized something.

"The soil..." Ying Zheng murmured to himself, "Didn't I reform the laws, standardize the written language, and unify the gauge of carts precisely to transform this land into the finest fertile fields?"

"As long as the land is good, I can't control what crops grow there. But at the very least, I want to make the foundation as solid as stone."

Epilogue: A Tribute to Life

As the sun sets, it bathes the golden fields in a holy glow.

The agricultural students finally finished counting the last pea and cheered as they rushed to the cafeteria (even though the food for tonight was still peas).

In the horse farm, the newly selected "King of Stallions" let out a loud neigh, ready to spread its strong genes and give birth to a future iron cavalry that would sweep across Eurasia.

Although Zhao Gao was still saddened by the "extinction of his lineage," he soon found a new pleasure—he began to study how to breed his pet dog, trying to cultivate a new breed that "looks like a lion and is as obedient as a rabbit" (which later became a hit among the noblewomen of the Qin Dynasty).

Under the lamplight of the imperial study, Ying Zheng heavily wrote a line on the "Outline of Agricultural Development in the Great Qin Dynasty":

"To know the will of Heaven and to change it. This is the way of the Great Qin."

Genetics, the key to unlocking the secrets of life, may now only be used to count peas and breed horses, but it has already planted a seed of "law" and "control" in the hearts of the ancients.

This seed will eventually grow into a towering tree.