Chapter Forty-Six: A Crisis in Life

Li Yuechen truly held such thoughts. Though not a scientist herself, her identity as a princess afforded her a unique position. With this promise in place, at least within her lifetime, there would always be those willing to delve into various technologies and devote themselves to research. If this mindset could be spread further, the technological level of Great Tang would inevitably rise in time.

On her way back, Li Yuechen kept turning the little incense burner in her hands, examining it closely. A mechanical gyroscope—in the future, such a thing was hardly remarkable, but in this age, no one understood its significance yet. Returning to Anfu Palace, Li Yuechen sat alone in Linbo Pavilion, one foot resting on the chair, leaning against a pillar, and idly swinging the silver hollow incense burner before her eyes.

At the palace gates, Shangguan Wan’er asked Xiao He in puzzlement, “Why does Her Highness appear so distracted upon returning?”

“I don’t know either,” Xiao He shook her head, “Perhaps she’s mulling over some new invention?”

In truth, Li Yuechen’s attention was entirely absorbed by the small sphere. She still found it hard to believe such an object could appear in this era; the wisdom of the ancients was truly not to be underestimated!

...

The next day, the Craftsmen’s Bureau sent over the square table she had requested, and Xiao He fetched the felt she wanted from the Wardrobe Bureau. After laying the felt atop the table, Li Yuechen placed the mahjong tiles and shuffled them herself, giving the game a try. It felt excellent, so she instructed Xiao He to pack everything up.

She then summoned two eunuchs, brought the table to Renshou Palace, and ordered Xiao He to fetch Princess Qianjin. Seeing his daughter arrive with a large table, Emperor Li Zhi instinctively thought it must be another contraption for communal dining. He glanced at the sky outside in confusion, “Is it not yet mealtime, Chen’er?”

“Father, you misunderstand—this is merely a plaything.”

With that, Li Yuechen had the eunuchs set the table, and laid the felt on top. “I’ve already sent for Aunt; soon, I’ll explain the rules.”

Li Yuechen wasn’t entirely sure what games were played in the gambling houses of this era, but within the palace, most games were for two players—like Go, chess, and backgammon. Yet the Go and chess of this time hadn’t evolved to their later forms, and the rules differed. The most widespread game was backgammon; from nobility to common folk, anyone with reasonable means would play it.

It wasn’t long before Princess Qianjin arrived, intrigued by the news that Li Yuechen had devised something new. She sat down eagerly. The four of them took seats at each side of the table, and Li Yuechen began explaining the rules of mahjong. A four-player game was a novelty to them; Li Yuechen demonstrated with examples as she explained.

Finally, she suggested, “Let’s play a round to see how it goes.”

“Let’s!” Li Zhi showed clear interest, immediately claiming the eastern seat. Having just heard that the game started from the east, and being the emperor, he took it as his prerogative.

Li Yuechen didn’t mind; all seats were the same to her. They played a round, and all three quickly picked up the rules and played quite well. Li Zhi adjusted his hairpin and smiled, “This is truly entertaining—a fine game of chance.”

As his wife, Wu Zetian knew him well. She glanced at Princess Qianjin, then smiled, “If so, shall we add a little wager?”

“Certainly!” Princess Qianjin agreed readily.

Li Yuechen didn’t care; she was unlikely to lose to these three novices, and even if she did, could they really ask a child for money?

Soon, the four officially began their mahjong game. It was quiet at first, but conversation soon flowed. Princess Qianjin seemed very familiar with Wu Zetian, chatting often with her. Li Zhi occasionally interjected, but his main focus remained on the tiles before him.

Li Yuechen played while observing their expressions, trying to analyze their hands. Wu Zetian lightly played a three-bamboo tile and remarked, “By the way, Chen’er plans to open a shop to sell those canned goods.”

Across from her, Princess Qianjin looked at Li Yuechen in surprise, “Why would Chen’er engage in trade?”

“My parents fret daily over disaster relief, their hair graying with worry. If I earn some money, perhaps I can ease their burdens,” Li Yuechen replied obediently.

“But you are a princess of Great Tang—” Princess Qianjin began, turning to Li Zhi.

She found him smiling at his tiles, seemingly oblivious to their conversation.

Princess Qianjin paused, then grinned, “Chen’er, have you found a shop yet?”

Li Yuechen shook her head and played a two-dot tile. “I went to the southern market recently, but found no shops for sale. A good location seems out of reach.”

At her words, Princess Qianjin smiled, “My household has a retainer with a shop facing the street in the southern market. It’s not a prime spot, but it’s decent. Why not accept it as a gift, Chen’er?”

In the Tang dynasty, people were classified as ‘good’ or ‘low-born.’ Retainers fell somewhere in between—not low-born, not slaves.

...

Though technically servants, they received wages and weren’t considered of the slave class. Li Yuechen was momentarily startled, instinctively replying, “That’s not appropriate...” as she glanced to Li Zhi and Wu Zetian for their opinion.

Both wore inscrutable smiles, as if entirely unconcerned with the discussion. Wu Zetian played with her tiles, while Li Zhi sipped tea, then tapped the table. “Why are you pausing? Play!”

Goodness! Are we playing or not?

Li Yuechen realized that Wu Zetian had probably brought this up with that purpose in mind. She smiled, revealing neat teeth, “Then, I thank Aunt for her generosity!”

Having received a gift, Li Yuechen was in high spirits. Princess Qianjin hardly suffered any loss, since Li Zhi and Wu Zetian had lost substantial sums to her—about equivalent to the value of a shop.

They played until dusk, when palace maids began lighting lamps. Li Zhi declared the game over.

“This is truly enjoyable—not inferior to backgammon!”

Wu Zetian nodded, “Indeed, and with four players, it’s much livelier. Your Majesty could play with your ministers from time to time.”

Li Yuechen reasoned she should first spread the game within the palace, especially among the consorts. Li Zhi didn’t have many, but future emperors might not be so restrained. With this pastime, palace intrigue could be avoided.

She’d watched palace drama series before, and always thought the women’s scheming arose from idleness. If this era had computers and internet, the consorts would be busy gaming together, too occupied for intrigue.

Regarding the shop, no one discussed it further. The next day, Princess Qianjin sent over the deeds. Li Yuechen, in gratitude, sent a few cans of food with the servants. Seeing her dwindling supply, she resolved to make more when fruit season arrived.

...

May was approaching, and the weather grew hotter. Li Yuechen abandoned elaborate hairstyles, opting for a ponytail each day. Li Zhi and Wu Zetian no longer objected, letting her be. Wu Zetian herself began wearing a ponytail when not meeting ministers—she found it quite comfortable.

Her routine remained: morning practice, afternoon reading. Now, with the addition of Imperial Precepts to her studies, Shangguan Wan’er could no longer sit beside her as reading companion; instead, she wrote reflections with her two sisters.

Indeed, Emperor Taizong was remarkable—a genius ruler. Each time she read Imperial Precepts, Li Yuechen gained new insights.

Whenever idle, Li Yuechen continued to listen to court news. Lately, not much of consequence—mostly minor border disputes, already resolved when reported to the emperor.

News of drought always concerned her. Though measures had been taken in time, some still starved to death. Hearing this, Li Yuechen sighed. She hoped this year’s soil fertilizer experiment would succeed, so the grain stores could be replenished, ready for disaster relief.

From her perspective as someone from the future, the nation’s problems were many. The most pressing was food. After all, technological advancement required people to be fed.

From the news at court, she deduced that some regions had begun to see ‘floating households’—essentially, unregistered people. This tied into tax law: Tang’s system was a poll tax, meaning everyone alive owed taxes and labor.

But many couldn’t produce enough grain or pay tax, so they’d flee their registered homes, becoming unregistered. Li Yuechen believed the emperor was aware, but he couldn’t change things easily. Firstly, he was a man of his time, his thinking bound by tradition; secondly, a misstep could provoke harsh condemnation from the censors, or even plunge the country into chaos.

This wasn’t mere paranoia—it was a real possibility. The Tang dynasty’s political system was aristocratic, not bureaucratic.

...

Many ministers derived their power from both the emperor and their families. Thus, even the emperor was constrained on many fronts. With this in mind, Li Yuechen shook her head and left.

In the court, Li Zhi noticed his daughter depart and glanced her way, a barely perceptible smile on his lips.

...

After a few peaceful days, Li Yuechen considered the rising heat and wondered if she should invite Li Zhi and his wife for a barbecue in the evening. With this in mind, she went to the Kitchen Bureau to see if any suitable seasonings were available.

Cumin was already present in this era, called 'Anxi fennel.' Oil was trickier—only sesame oil, also known as perilla oil, or animal fat. The key issue was that soybean oil of this era was rancid and not used for food.

Sesame oil would suffice for barbecue. Li Yuechen planned to ask the Craftsmen’s Bureau to make a grill, gather some charcoal and skewers, and prepare lamb kebabs.

Just as she left the Kitchen Bureau to return to Anfu Palace, she spotted Xiao He approaching. Xiao He received a small pouch from a maid, preparing to leave, but then saw Li Yuechen.

“Your Highness?”

“Mm.” Li Yuechen noticed Xiao He’s calm expression and asked about the pouch, “What’s this?”

Xiao He opened it for her—a bag of ashes.

“What do you need this for?” Li Yuechen asked in confusion.

“This... my menses have arrived...”

Menses?

At first, Li Yuechen was puzzled, but then realization dawned—oh, that! She didn’t ask further and was about to walk on, but suddenly froze.

Damn! I’m a girl now too! How could I forget this?

Xiao He was about to follow, when Li Yuechen abruptly turned and asked, “How do you use this?”

Xiao He was startled, “Your Highness needn’t worry now, in the future—”

“Enough, just tell me!” Li Yuechen urged.

Flustered, Xiao He explained. After hearing, Li Yuechen’s expression grew complicated, walking back with a strange look, Xiao He trailing behind, perplexed.

Women of this era used cloth bags filled with plant ash during their menses—most crucially, they reused them! As a princess, perhaps the only advantage was not having to wash them herself.

Damn!

Li Yuechen shook her head vigorously—no, this problem must be solved first! She suddenly turned and asked, “Does the palace have cotton?”

“May I ask, Your Highness, what is cotton?” Xiao He replied.

“Never mind, I’ll ask at the Wardrobe Bureau myself tomorrow.” Li Yuechen waved her hand and hurried back to Anfu Palace.

Speaking of which, there were other issues to fix—underwear, for instance. This era had no underwear, only loincloths; that needed improvement too.

If not for bumping into Xiao He today, she might have forgotten altogether! Li Yuechen shivered at the thought—this was her first real crisis.

After all, it was her first time as a woman, and she had no experience, so she’d overlooked it. Thankfully, she was only six years old, with plenty of time to prepare, and shouldn’t have to use plant ash like other women.

Li Yuechen had already decided: if cotton wasn’t available, she’d use silk! After all, she was a princess—she could afford it!