Chapter 101: The Princess Does Not Wish to Learn Dance

Year 3 of Xianheng, seventh month, day of Ji-you, the time of the End of Heat.

In the imperial court, the Empress presented a memorial: The great Tang Empire now stretches far and wide, abundant in resources, peaceful and prosperous, with harmony reigning across the seas... Moreover, since the sacred rites atop Mount Tai have been performed, it would be fitting to confer honorific titles upon our ancestors, both to thank their spirits for their blessings from above and to express filial respect.

Emperor Li Zhi nodded in agreement, deeming it reasonable, and approved the proposal.

Thus, the founding emperor Li Yuan was bestowed the honorific title “Divine Yao Emperor,” and the Taizong Emperor Li Shimin was granted the title “Taizong, the Civil and Martial Sage Emperor.”

Soon after, ministers supportive of the measure submitted a memorial suggesting that, to avoid confusion with the titles “former emperor” and “former empress,” His Majesty and Her Majesty could be styled as “Heavenly Emperor” and “Heavenly Empress.”

Li Zhi found this agreeable and consented.

The entire court was suffused with joyful atmosphere, except for Li Yuechen, who was standing in the passageway, covering her face with her hand, a wry smile playing at her lips.

These titles, for some reason, sounded ridiculously pretentious and somewhat awkward to her ears.

But as long as they were pleased, Li Yuechen would never voice any dissent on such matters.

...

After the morning court session ended, Li Yuechen was preparing to return to Anfu Palace when Fulai approached her.

“Your Highness, Deputy Minister of Agriculture Liu Zihao is waiting outside the palace.”

“Let’s go.”

Li Yuechen arrived outside the West Hua Gate, where Liu Zihao quickly bowed. “Greetings, Your Highness.”

“Please, no formalities. Have you found the personnel?”

“Yes,” Liu Zihao replied. “I have organized a hundred men; soon they will head south to seek the wild rice seeds Your Highness mentioned. We aim to bring back samples of both the male and female varieties, and also...”

“Huh?” Li Yuechen paused in surprise. “Wait, you said the rice is divided into male and female types?”

This time Liu Zihao was taken aback. “Your Highness, you did not know?”

Damn, it seemed she really didn’t know... Though, to be fair, that’s quite a specialized knowledge for a Deputy Minister of Agriculture.

“Never mind, please continue,” Li Yuechen waved her hand.

Liu Zihao nodded. “At the same time, we will dispatch some men to southern kingdoms to purchase rice seeds and bring them back for the comparative trials Your Highness mentioned...”

“Comparison tests,” Li Yuechen interjected.

“Exactly!” Liu Zihao nodded apologetically. “However, Your Highness, the journey to the southern kingdoms is long and may not be completed quickly...”

Li Yuechen nodded in understanding. “I am aware of that. Just do your best. If we can achieve results a year sooner, the people of our great Tang can be fed a day earlier.”

Hearing those words, Liu Zihao could not help but feel a deep respect.

This princess’s reputation in the Tang court was quite prominent.

The princess plow she invented had already almost completely replaced the old plows. Though it involved only minor modifications, to Liu Zihao it was a stroke of genius.

Later, when the poem “Sympathy for Farmers” was recited in court, Liu Zihao admired the princess’s concern for the realm.

And when word spread that she had succeeded in raising grain yields, the Ministry of Revenue was amazed.

When the news came that this princess had been appointed Assistant Minister of Revenue, though many opposed quietly, Liu Zihao was overjoyed.

Perhaps this princess was sent by Heaven itself to shield the Tang from drought.

With such admiration, Liu Zihao obeyed her commands without hesitation.

Having settled this matter, Li Yuechen thought about how grain issues would require more time to resolve slowly. Such things cannot be rushed; progress must be steady.

...

In the courtyard of the royal farm, fewer than twenty children sat cross-legged on the ground, watching Li Yuechen write characters on the wall.

She held a twig as a pointer, indicating the written words: “Come, repeat after me: hundred, thousand, ten thousand...”

The children echoed in unison: “Hundred, thousand, ten thousand...”

In these times, literacy was a rare luxury, so the children studied with great seriousness.

Li Yuechen had them copy ten characters from the previous lesson on another wall; each child was able to write them.

She then continued teaching the ten characters for the day, thinking to herself that soon she could teach them the “Thousand Character Classic.”

Watching the children begin to write today’s characters on the wall with charcoal sticks, a faint smile touched Li Yuechen’s lips.

Once they mastered the “Thousand Character Classic,” she could teach them some mathematics and rudimentary physics, then prepare plenty of exercises for them—heh, to give them a glimpse of what students a millennium hence might endure.

Recently, Li Yuechen had little else to do; she would stroll through the Taoguang Garden, seeking a suitable site to build a parkour training ground, and every five days visit the royal farm to teach the children.

...

Time passed swiftly; it was now the end of July.

At night, Li Yuechen, after yawning, prepared to sleep.

The only comfort in palace life was that at night there were no worries about mosquitoes.

In this era, something akin to mosquito nets existed, though made of silk and beyond the reach of common folk.

The palace burned fragrant incense daily, which naturally kept mosquitoes at bay, and when sleeping, incense was lit inside the mosquito nets.

The fragrance was not pungent but soothing, lulling one into a deep slumber till dawn.

Just as Li Yuechen slipped into her mosquito net, Xiao He spoke suddenly: “Your Highness, would you like to learn dancing?”

“Why?” Li Yuechen asked.

Xiao He reminded her: “Now that Your Highness has entered official service, at the New Year’s Day court assembly, if you cannot dance, you might be ridiculed!”

Her reminder jogged Li Yuechen’s memory: indeed, during New Year’s or other grand ceremonies, the emperor and ministers all performed dances.

Though she had agreed with her mother not to attend court daily, participating in major events was unavoidable.

But, truth be told, she could not dance—especially the classical dances of this era’s women, which she was utterly unversed in.

Li Yuechen lay on her side, propping her head with one hand, pondering.

She knew a bit about street dance, but performing street dance in court would surely earn her mother’s wrath.

Licking her lips, she lay flat and said, “Let me think about it for a few days; there’s no rush.”

“Yes!” Xiao He agreed.

After Xiao He left, Li Yuechen lay back, hands behind her head, contemplating how to handle this dilemma.

As a princess, skipping these grand events was impossible—it would disgrace her father.

Moreover, with the court already disgruntled over a woman serving as an official, absence would invite mockery.

If possible, she truly did not want to learn the slow, complicated classical dances of this era—they clashed with her nature.

But if no substitute existed, she would have to learn, lest her father lose face; after all, she could not very well perform street dance.

Sighing resignedly, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

The next day was the first day of the eighth month.

After practicing yoga with her two elder sisters and Shangguan Wan’er, and eating breakfast, Li Yuechen donned her Daoist robe and went to chant scriptures.

Though the court sessions on the first and fifteenth of each month were crowded, they rarely involved major affairs—mostly reports.

After chanting all morning, Li Yuechen was about to leave for lunch when she happened upon Wang Gangdan, from the gold and silver workshop, standing outside.

“Are you looking for me?” she asked, stopping.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Wang Gangdan extended his hand. “This time I managed to speed up production. I wonder if you are satisfied.”

In his palm lay four small bearings.

Fulai took them and presented them to Li Yuechen.

These four bearings were made faster than the previous batch, and at least to the naked eye, appeared flawless.

Li Yuechen nodded. “Let me compare them carefully. If no problems arise, this method will be used in future production.”

“Here you go!”

Back in Anfu Palace, Li Yuechen removed her Daoist robe and tossed it to Xiao He, then began meticulous comparison of the bearings.

Eight small bearings lay side by side; no visible discrepancies could be discerned.

After running several tests, Li Yuechen nodded with satisfaction.

Not bad at all! Were it not for considerations of cost and production time, this device alone could spark a small industrial revolution.

She strung the eight bearings on a brush, gently twirling them.

Shangguan Wan’er knelt nearby, curious: “Your Highness, what use do these little iron rings have?”

“That’s a big question,” Li Yuechen smiled. “For example...”

She paused, a toy from her childhood suddenly springing to mind.

“For example?” Wan’er tilted her head, eyes wide with curiosity.

Li Yuechen grinned. “They might let me avoid learning to dance!”

“What does that have to do with dancing?”

“I’m not sure yet, but it’s worth trying!” Li Yuechen reached out to pat Wan’er’s head. “Enough talk, let’s eat!”

After lunch, Li Yuechen stood. “Fulai, come with me to the Craftsmen’s Workshop. Xiao He, send for experts from the Imperial Tailor’s Bureau.”

“Right away!”

Watching Li Yuechen dash off cheerfully, Wan’er asked, puzzled, “Your Highness, have you thought of something new?”

Princess Yiyang nodded in agreement. “Perhaps.”

...

Li Yuechen did not spend long at the Craftsmen’s Workshop before staff from the Tailor’s Bureau arrived.

Technicians no longer dared to neglect the princess’s requests—after all, the next marvel to catch the emperor’s eye might be theirs.

Li Yuechen sketched out a design and explained the desired effect, instructing them to proceed accordingly.

The craftsmen nodded, clarified a few doubts, then immediately set to work.

Satisfied, Li Yuechen left, her thoughts turning to New Year’s gifts.

Though it was still August, it was time to prepare. As a court official, she must present the emperor with a gift at New Year.

The gift itself posed no challenge: she intended to create the kind of Tang sword that had become popular online.

It resembled a samurai sword but featured a straight blade and luxurious fittings.

Compared to the curved sabers of the time, this sword had a point, a guard, and a longer hilt for two-handed grip—quite stylish to hold.

However, these features rendered it more ceremonial; to wield it effectively in battle, sharpness and other factors would need consideration.

Truthfully, improving steel quality was no simple matter.

She had only seen pictures of blast furnaces online and lacked understanding of their internal structure.

To her, a blast furnace was basically a very tall furnace.

Combined with the foot-operated bellows she recently developed for cooking, perhaps it could meet the requirements.

She patted her head, regretting that if she understood blast furnace principles, she might elevate Tang iron smelting technology several levels.

Lost in thought, she arrived at the Armory Office, where the deputy director came out to greet her.

Li Yuechen ignored the formalities, immediately asking for paper and brush to sketch the Tang sword design.

“Can this sword be forged?”

The deputy director examined the drawing and nodded. “Certainly. But this part... might it be for hand protection?” he asked, pointing at the sword guard.

Li Yuechen nodded and inquired about current iron smelting techniques.

To build a blast furnace required not only blacksmith advice but coordination among several departments.

Moreover, Li Yuechen herself only had a superficial understanding; numerous craftsmen’s opinions were needed during design.

But there was no rush; the priority was to complete the New Year’s gift first.

After understanding the situation, she nodded and instructed them to craft the Tang sword well, then turned to leave.

Outside the Armory, she waved to Fulai. “In the coming days, summon some master blacksmiths and bricklayers for me.”

“Right! When do you need them, Your Highness?”

“On the fifth day of the New Year—that should be free.”

“Understood!”

Having arranged these matters, Li Yuechen felt considerably relieved.

If all went well, she might avoid learning to dance after all. Dancing was dancing; she could show them a special dance from the future.

The only remaining problem was that the music of this time generally lacked energy; she wondered if musicians had rhythms that were fast, rhythmic, yet not martial.

Come to think of it, people seemed able to play electronic music beats. If possible...

Her favorite electronic tune was “Swamp Monster,” an irresistible foot-tapping hit.

If she could recreate this in the present era, perhaps it would thrill the emperor and ministers.

Then, with a spinning disco ball made of colored glass... just imagining it was amusing!

With this in mind, Li Yuechen decided to try, and pulled Fulai along to the Imperial Music Hall.

...