Chapter Four: The Choice of a Master

Old Li took her role as the dutiful, beloved daughter with utmost seriousness. Firstly, because she truly longed for familial affection; secondly, out of fear for her own life. In a feudal society, especially within the imperial family, a single misstep could mean losing one’s head. Therefore, before Li Zhi and Wu Zetian, Old Li always maintained the appearance of a sweet and obedient child, striving to leave a good impression.

She recalled reading online that fratricide and internecine strife were almost a tradition among the Tang imperial family. It wasn’t just Wu Zetian’s bloody rise to power—since Li Er killed his brothers at Xuanwu Gate, the Li Tang dynasty bore this curse that passed from one generation to the next. Whether this was truly accurate, Old Li wasn’t sure and had never investigated. Still, she preferred to err on the side of caution.

Li Zhi picked her up and spun her around, then crouched down, squinting as he searched for the tatami mat. He already suffered from vertigo, and now it seemed he was nearsighted too—no surprise, given years spent reading memorials by candlelight in his youth. Now, Old Li only read and wrote in daylight, always in well-lit places, to protect her eyes.

Li Zhi knelt on the tatami, placed Old Li on his lap, and gently pinched her cheeks. “Chen’er, what brings you here today?”

Clinging to his dragon robe, Old Li grinned, “I want to learn martial arts! Please, Father, find me a teacher!”

Both Li Zhi and Wu Zetian, who was reviewing memorials nearby, were stunned by her answer. Yet before her father could reply, Wu Zetian’s face darkened. “You’re a girl. You should devote yourself to your studies and learn to be a proper princess. What use is there in fighting and killing?”

Wu Zetian’s anger was understandable. Tang dynasty women were very different from those of other eras. Most of them were bold and skilled—low-cut dresses, horseback riding, archery, polo—nothing was beyond them. Even palace maids played cuju in their leisure time. Although still a feudal society, women in the Tang dynasty felt out of place compared to other dynasties. Since Emperor Wen of Sui, henpecked husbands had become a social norm, with many high officials famously afraid of their wives. Wu Zetian, however, didn’t want her daughter to become so masculine, but rather a learned, refined, and gracious princess. Thus, her first reaction to martial arts was anger.

Li Zhi, however, smiled indulgently. “Why do you want to learn martial arts, Chen’er?”

With her childish, sweet voice, Old Li giggled, “My brothers are already studying hard. I want to learn martial arts so I can protect Father and Mother in the future!”

Neither Li Zhi nor Wu Zetian had expected such an answer from a three-year-old. They exchanged a glance and burst into laughter. With such a filial daughter, their hearts were full.

Over the years, Old Li had come to understand their tacit understanding very well. She recalled people online saying that, rather than a couple, the two were more like political partners, lacking any real affection. But after three years in this world, Old Li could swear by her life that their love was genuine.

Wu Zetian reviewed memorials while Li Zhi, in poor health, rested nearby, occasionally pouring her water. He was the emperor! Who else would enjoy such treatment? And just a few years before Old Li was born, Wu Zetian had nearly been deposed; the edict was drafted, but she threw a fit and Li Zhi instantly shifted blame to Shangguan Yi, sacrificing a trusted aide. If that wasn’t love, what was?

Feeling suffused by their affections, Old Li almost wondered if there was gasoline in this era, given the overwhelming sweetness in the air. Wu Zetian’s face was still stern, but Li Zhi stroked his beard and suddenly smiled. “Very well, if Chen’er wishes to learn martial arts, then so be it…”

“Zhinu, this…” Since there were no outsiders in the Zichen Hall, not even chief eunuch Zhang Chengxin, Wu Zetian did not address him as “Your Majesty.” Li Zhi waved his hand with a smile, his tone casual. “The Tang dynasty was founded on martial prowess. Though we once suppressed the military to bring down Zhangsun Wuji, this is the foundation of our nation and must not be neglected.”

Hearing this, Wu Zetian could only nod. “If that’s your will, I shall comply.” She seemed to recall the days when the two of them fought side by side, and a faint smile of reminiscence appeared on her face. In those days, Zhangsun Wuji was the most powerful minister, dominating everything, leaving Li Zhi powerless to issue orders. Yet, in the face of such adversity, the couple joined forces and overcame him together.

Looking back now on their glorious past, there was a distinct sense of nostalgia. Seeing her mother acquiesce, Old Li wrapped her arms around Li Zhi’s neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Father!”

Wu Zetian immediately pulled a long face. “What about me?”

Old Li quickly hopped from Li Zhi’s lap, ran over, and kissed Wu Zetian as well. “Thank you, Mother!”

Seeing her mischievous antics, Wu Zetian couldn’t stay angry and tapped her on the head with a finger. “You little rascal… Who do you want to learn from?”

Old Li hadn’t actually considered this. Her knowledge of Tang generals was scant, mostly limited to those from Taizong’s reign—figures like Cheng Yaojin, Xue Rengui, Su Dingfang. But she couldn’t just blurt out names, not knowing their deeds or even if they were still alive.

So she stood up on a chair, rested her chin on Wu Zetian’s shoulder, and blinked her big eyes. “Why doesn’t Mother recommend someone?”

Wu Zetian turned to Li Zhi. “Zhinu, do you have anyone in mind?”

“I think Pei Xingjian…” As soon as Li Zhi mentioned the name, Wu Zetian’s eyebrows shot up, a clear sign she was about to lose her temper. Li Zhi, well-versed in her moods, immediately fell silent.

Pei Xingjian was a civil official from a military background, skilled in both fields. However, during the struggle with Zhangsun Wuji, he had not supported Li Zhi. So, the couple had sent him off to Turpan to “eat raisins.” Yet, talent shines wherever it goes; in recent years, Pei Xingjian had convinced many Western Regions states to submit to the Tang. By the second year of Linde, he had even been promoted to Protector-General of Anxi. But despite being empress, Wu Zetian still held a grudge.

“Why don’t you recommend someone, Meiniang?” Li Zhi smiled, letting her decide.

Wu Zetian finally smiled, thought for a moment, then sipped her tea. “In my opinion, Liu Rengui, currently Deputy Commander of the Army in Liaodong, is an excellent choice. He’s accomplished in both civil and military fields and won’t turn Chen’er into a brute.”

Old Li didn’t know who Liu Rengui was, but trusted her mother’s judgment—he must be someone of no small merit. Li Zhi nodded. “Agreed!”

He added, “But Chen’er, since he’s still in Liaodong, if you want to be his disciple, you’ll have to wait for his return.”

Old Li performed a cute little bow. “Understood!”

Seeing her imitate adults so earnestly, Li Zhi and Wu Zetian both burst into laughter. In truth, Old Li found this a bit awkward. The word she used, “understood,” was pronounced “ye,” which, if spoken quickly, sounded like “yeah” in English, adding a sense of incongruity.

After spending some time with Li Zhi and Wu Zetian, Old Li saw the stack of unfinished memorials on the table and sensibly took her leave. “Father, Mother, I won’t trouble you further. I’ll head back now.”

Wu Zetian reminded her, “Remember to study diligently; don’t slack off.”

Old Li bowed again. “Understood!”

She left the Zichen Hall, waved goodbye to Zhang Chengxin waiting outside, and returned with Eunuch Fu. Zhang Chengxin, having no idea what the little princess’s gesture meant, nonetheless bowed deeply. “Farewell, Your Highness!”

On the way back, Old Li walked alongside Eunuch Fu, gazing at the snow-blanketed Daming Palace, and suddenly felt it was time to put her plans into action. As someone from a civilization a thousand years in the future, life in the ancient world was full of inconveniences—leaving aside the lack of the internet and entertainment, even personal hygiene was troublesome. Take brushing teeth, for example.

There were already primitive toothbrushes in this era—a wooden handle with boar bristles, scarcely different from those a thousand years later—but only the wealthy used them. Ordinary people kept willow twigs soaking in water at home.

Every morning, they’d chew the ends until they frayed into bristles. The real issue was toothpaste. The well-off used coarse salt grains; high officials and royalty added crushed medicinal herbs. To be honest, it was bitter, and who knew if they occasionally threw in something like coptis root.

Improving this kind of toothpaste was possible, but Old Li had no idea how. As an extreme sports enthusiast, she was good at getting into trouble and having fun but was almost clueless about anything involving chemistry or industry. Making something herself would be a real challenge.

Besides toothpaste, she also wanted to invent things like shampoo or running water. High-tech inventions were out of reach, but she could start with these simpler items. Yet, she was only three—oh, by the old Chinese reckoning, four. At four years old, what could she actually accomplish?

Old Li looked at her tiny hands. It wasn’t time yet. Rather than daydreaming, she might as well read more and learn about this era. The dense, classical texts were still too difficult for her to concentrate on for long.

Back in her palace, Eunuch Fu changed the charcoal in the brazier and waited at the door. Old Li wrapped her cloak tighter and sat down, deciding that for now, studying was the most important thing.

…

In the blink of an eye, the year drew to a close. The army had not yet returned, but news of their victory had already arrived. After all, with so many courtiers present at court, the messenger’s announcement could not be kept secret. Old Li learned from Eunuch Fu that the Tang army had conquered Pyongyang and captured Namgeon and his brother Namchan alive. Henceforth, Goguryeo could be wiped from the map!

Upon hearing this, Old Li uttered a few words of praise, then, after Eunuch Fu left, let out a long sigh of relief. At last, it was done!

Her daily reading had gradually filled in the gaps in her historical knowledge. She had always thought Goguryeo was just “the Koreans.” Not until coming to this era did she realize it was actually a kingdom of the Buyeo people entrenched in the northeast—a dire threat to the empire since Emperor Yang of Sui. Emperor Yang failed to conquer them and lost his throne in the process. Emperor Taizong also failed, losing many soldiers to the cold. Her own father, Li Zhi, had once planned to lead the campaign himself, but had to give up due to ill health. Only after Wu Zetian took charge did years of effort finally bear fruit.

In Old Li’s view, chance played a part in this success. This time, unlike before, it was the Goguryeo people themselves who led the Tang army against their own. After Yeon Gaesomun died, his eldest son, Namsheng, should have inherited power, but was usurped by his younger brother Namgeon. Namsheng sought aid from the Tang, acting as guide and leading the Tang army to reclaim power from his brother.

Regardless of the reasons, Goguryeo was gone, and the threat in the northeast had vanished—a genuine cause for celebration. In his good mood, Li Zhi granted the ministers three days of holiday.

Normally, the Tang court worked on a ten-day cycle, holding court once every ten days for reports and updates, with a day off every cycle. Only after coming to this world did Old Li realize that court was not a daily affair—nor was it a brief meeting. Attendees were the heads of each department, who gathered every ten days to report on their work and achievements. Beneath them were numerous clerks who did not attend court or see the emperor directly, but were required to staff their offices every day.