Chapter 01: Li’er’s Embarrassment
After smashing Prince Lu’s boats, no one dared to provoke the navy on the canal anymore. The story of how Lingnan Naval Commander Yun Ye and Prince Lu Li Yuanzhang fought a great battle on the canal over two singing girls, with Yun Ye ultimately relying on his superior ships and weapons to send Prince Lu fleeing in disarray with his head in his hands—such explosive news instantly spread throughout both banks of the canal. The Great Tang was not without marquises who dared to strike princes, but using military weapons to fight over courtesans was a first.
The local censors considered this purely a disgrace to the court. Without distinguishing right from wrong, impeachment memorials flew toward Chang’an like snowflakes. The memorials showed no favoritism and made no judgments about who was right or wrong, only seizing upon one point: it damaged public morals and showed none of the decorum befitting nobles. They demanded the Emperor punish both men together—after all, both were scoundrels, and there was no need to investigate the rights and wrongs of the matter.
Express horses traveled much faster than boats. Before Yun Ye and Li Yuanzhang even entered the capital, the city already knew that conflict had erupted between the two again. The kindhearted Old Qin sighed and lamented, feeling that Yun Ye was simply a troublemaker, and that he himself—the pillar left in Chang’an by several families—was finding it rather overwhelming.
Yuchi Gong clapped his hands and laughed heartily, declaring that this was what a true military man should be like: fight whoever tries to steal what’s yours, and when your temper flares, spare no one, not even the King of Heaven himself. He believed Yun Ye had learned this from him.
Li’er set down the memorial and rubbed his temples, muttering to himself: “Boy, to resign from the position of Naval Commander, you’ve really gone to great lengths. Heh heh, so even you have difficult times? Well, continue serving as Naval Commander—I’m still counting on you to produce more good ships.”
Li Tai’s eyes gleamed with a sinister light as he held two glass bottles—one containing four or five fire-red ants, the other containing a spider the size of a baby’s fist. Looking at the two restless creatures, he sighed, returned the spider to its shelf, placed the ants in a small bamboo basket, left the academy gates, and prepared to return to Chang’an to properly attend the grand imperial family gathering.
Chang’an had been particularly full of joyous occasions these days. Victory reports came frequently from the frontlines. The red-plumed urgent messengers crying out “Great Victory” as they passed through Vermillion Bird Avenue no longer attracted crowds of common people, who merely called out their approval before continuing with their own business. Victory was not surprising; it would be a rare thing indeed if news of defeat ever came—the Great Tang did not lose battles.
To pray for blessings for the Grand Emperor, His Majesty had specifically issued an edict that henceforth only two forms of capital punishment would exist: strangulation and beheading. Only the most wicked villains would be beheaded; the rest would be strangled—simply erecting a post, looping the rope around the criminal’s neck and hanging them up. No blood would be shed, unlike before when executions always made everything bloody and foul-smelling, attracting flies. This was much better. Some people were already fantasizing about the spectacular scene of Vermillion Bird Avenue lined with hanging corpses.
The common people didn’t care how many criminals died. Nowadays, not many prisoners died in a year anyway—filling Vermillion Bird Avenue with hanging bodies would require several generations of effort. But the household tax was gone—that was news truly worth celebrating! Before, families always had multiple “Xiao’ers”—the one with a full beard was called Xiao’er, and the one still mixing mud with urine was also called Xiao’er. Now that was no longer necessary; they could confidently name their children Xiaosan, Xiaosi, Xiaowu and so on.
Certain regulations in Chang’an were quietly loosening. Ever since the special exception to extend curfew by one hour last time, this edict had been consistently followed by both Chang’an counties. Even those upright and rigid officials seemed to have forgotten the custom of curfew at sunset, and also enjoyed having servants carry lanterns after sunset to stroll through the East and West Markets—good for digestion, after all.
The theater in Xinghua Ward had a new play—the story of two illicit lovers who turned into butterflies. Elderly matrons spat contemptuously and told the young ladies and daughters-in-law in their households: “Look at the consequences! That’s what happens to shameless people. Turning into butterflies is generous—why not turn into pigs?”
Whether they turned into butterflies or pigs was a small matter. The young ladies from respectable families who were allowed by their elders to attend the theater for moral education all returned home crying their eyes out, humming verses from the opera. They appeared to have been quite thoroughly educated. Next time there was a new program, they would go again, bringing all their sisters along. Hadn’t they noticed how the family’s young ladies now spent all day propping their chins on their hands, staring blankly at the parasol trees outside the windows? They no longer even swung on their formerly favorite swings. Young ladies should be quiet and demure, waiting for their husband’s family to come with sedan chairs to carry them away.
Those who had failed to seize the opportunity to buy houses in Xinghua Ward now beat their chests in regret. When the pear blossoms bloomed in spring, Xinghua Ward was so beautiful it intoxicated the heart—clear waters, red buildings, white flowers, green grass, as if one were in a divine realm. Looking at their own grayish courtyards, dull and lifeless as antiques… Others had planted pear trees, mature pear trees transplanted whole. When the pear blossoms fell and the wind blew, it looked like snow. Their own doorways only had elm trees—when the wind blew, dried elm seeds fell everywhere, requiring several sweepings a day.
Wei Zheng, having nothing particular to do, always enjoyed strolling around Xinghua Ward. He watched every bit of change here. The several burly men at the ward gate all consciously bowed when they saw Wei Zheng. How could they not respect the Chancellor? Although this one liked to wander about wearing old clothes, his status was such that no one dared show disrespect.
Looking at these neatly dressed men with clean hands and faces, Wei Zheng could not connect them with ruffians. These fierce-looking men now wore short clubs at their waists and patrolled Xinghua Ward every half-hour. When they saw trash on the ground, they picked it up. When they saw children fall, they helped them up. They would escort elderly people to sit under their favorite pear trees. What most astonished Wei Zheng was that when they found a gold hairpin, they would post a notice for the owner to claim it.
Environment can change people—this was what the Yun Family’s steward at Xinghua Ward told Wei Zheng. Returning a found hairpin was no great matter compared to one’s lifetime livelihood. That hairpin was nothing compared to that. The nine hundred wen monthly wage was enough to make him abandon bad habits, enough to make him ignore gold hairpins. As for former cronies who came to make contact, planning to cooperate from inside and outside for one big score—these friends were now without exception nursing broken legs and eating prison food in the government jail.
Having a respectable position not only made one’s own life better, but also made parents and family happy. Men who previously stank so bad even dogs wouldn’t sniff them now had matchmakers coming to their homes to whisper with their parents about how well this family’s daughter embroidered, how delicious that family’s young lady’s cooking was. Parents also smiled broadly as they picked and chose. The formerly fearless ruffians who feared neither heaven nor earth now actually knew shame, lowering their heads and ducking into their rooms, hiding behind doors to eavesdrop, causing parents and matchmakers to laugh heartily. This was the proper reaction of a normal unmarried man.
This autumn, the court’s talent examination would begin. Literati and scholars from across the realm would gather in Chang’an to participate in the court’s assessment. Advance submission of essays was no longer useful—papers were now sealed, names covered up. No one yet knew who the examiners would be, only that the chief examiner was Fang Xuanling and the deputy chief examiner was Zhangsun Wuji. Everything else was a complete mystery. In previous years, some bold examiners would hint to candidates what topics might appear, but this year, no one knew. The exam questions were still in the Emperor’s study. Those scholars didn’t believe they had the ability to extract the questions from the imperial palace.
That they couldn’t didn’t mean Li Tai and Li Ke couldn’t. These two brothers were summoned to the study by the Emperor, who then mysteriously opened the exam questions and had his sons complete them first. He would then show them off later. Since his sons weren’t eligible to take the grand examination, he was very curious about their actual level and whether they could achieve good results.
“‘Respect the elderly in your family and extend that respect to the elderly in other families; cherish the young in your family and extend that care to the young in other families’? Father Emperor, I’ve done this question no fewer than ten times. My essay proposing the Great Unity ideal was even displayed by Teacher Li Gang at the academy as a model composition. This question has long held no novelty for me.”
“Another Han Xin counting troops problem, just with a different twist. Han Xin became a herdsman, soldiers became chickens and sheep. The columns are gone, replaced by legs and feet. It’s become the ‘chickens and rabbits in the same cage’ problem. Ten thousand variations don’t stray from the root. Fifty-six chickens, eighty-three sheep—that’s the answer.”
“Father Emperor, you’re asking a top academy student to calculate earthwork volumes? I found this boring three years ago. When Huang Shu was digging holes, I’d already done this countless times. If you added the concept of density, I’d be somewhat interested.”
Li’er thought he had created very difficult questions, having received unanimous approval from Fang Xuanling and Zhangsun Wuji, who believed these questions constituted the most difficult examination in recent years. Who knew his sons would disparage them as utterly worthless?
Li Ke was a polite child. Seeing his father very displeased, he quickly said: “Father Emperor, who created these questions? How could they be so careless? Too simple! Are official positions in our Great Tang so worthless? If Xiao An and the others have no problem with these questions, does that mean people of their level can become officials? Doesn’t that mean anyone in the academy above second year could be an official? Father Emperor, you should issue an edict to severely punish this irresponsible official and make him create new questions.”
Li’er’s face turned blood red. He smacked both sons on the back of their heads and roared: “Your father created these questions! Fang Xuanling and your uncle both said they were already very difficult! And there are practical operation questions afterward—I don’t believe your academy has no problems even with questions requiring actual practice.”
Li Tai covered the back of his head and said aggrievedly: “The practical questions you created are actually wrong. Measuring a place’s prosperity isn’t about how much grain and tax it submits, but requires a comprehensive look at the actual income of local people, the number of cattle and sheep, total grain production, level of education, commercial prosperity, whether there are industrial workshops, even the amount of foot traffic, population growth rate, newborn survival rate—all must be considered. Only at the end comes submitted taxes. Prosperity is an overall improvement, not simply extracting grain from the people. When the people prosper, the Great Tang cannot help but prosper. So your question is wrong, or at least incomplete.”
Li’er sat back heavily in his chair, looking at his two sons and asking: “What exactly has the academy been teaching you?”