Chapter 43: A Fresh Rain in Chang'an Soothes the Light Dust

This trial lasted for nearly half an hour. By the time everyone, drenched in sweat, returned to the shade of the trees, dusk had already fallen. The group felt invigorated; many of the younger, more impetuous ones stripped to the waist, looking no different from street toughs. Yet no one minded this. After all, this was the Great Tang, the flourishing Tang dynasty, a society famed for its openness and boldness, with only the most basic rules of propriety rigidly observed. Even someone of Zhang Xu’s age, after drinking too much, would remove his hat and loosen his clothes, baring himself before all.

“How exhilarating! Far more thrilling than polo or cuju!”

“Dalang was heroic today—five goals! He must be awarded first place!”

“You weren’t so bad yourself! Two goals, and the way you intercepted me just now—truly decisive...”

As they wiped away their sweat, servants brought tea, snacks, and folding stools. They sat, drinking and chatting, thoroughly content.

“It’s getting late. I doubt we’ll make it home tonight. Why not stay at the temple for the night?” someone suggested.

Only then did the group realize, “Ah! Curfew is near—no, I can’t stay here, I must get home!”

“Hurry, hurry!”

“We might still catch the last oil-lit carriage—let’s go!”

In a flurry, everyone scattered like birds and beasts. Even Yan Zhenqing forgot to ask Ye Chang for a calligraphy piece, thinking only of returning to his lodgings.

Soon the place was deserted, with only the folding stools, tea, and snacks left behind. Ye Chang, unbothered, called out to the local idlers who had also been practicing ball for a while, “Since we’re treated to snacks, let’s not stand on ceremony. We’re all staying in Xinchang ward tonight; no need to fear the curfew.”

Everyone laughed and agreed. One of the more glib fellows added, “These are snacks from the Left Chancellor’s household. Normally, we’d never get a taste. Even the box is inlaid with gold and jade—just that box alone could probably buy all of us!”

“I’ve figured it out!” Ye Chang was about to reply when a cheer rang out. From the darkness, a figure stumbled forth, steadied himself, and dashed toward him.

In the faint light, Ye Chang saw a face painted with blue, grotesque features, and was so startled he nearly tipped over his stool. Fortunately, the monk Shanzhi sensed something amiss and stepped forward to block the figure. “Amitabha, what are you doing?”

Only then did Ye Chang see that the intruder was Lu Qi. The rascal hadn’t left!

Everyone else, including Yan Zhenqing, had gone, but Lu Qi remained. He’d been so engrossed in playing the money-taking game with Xiao Bairang that time slipped by. When Li Zha and the others left, they’d been so caught up discussing football that they forgot about Lu Qi, leaving him behind.

“Young Master Lu, why are you still here?” Ye Chang had only wanted Xiao Bairang to give Lu Qi a taste of humility, to deter this scheming fellow from plotting against him, not expecting him to become so obsessed with the game.

“Send them away. I have something to say to you,” Lu Qi said.

But Ye Chang refused and instead walked away from the group himself. “If we have private matters to discuss, then it’s only proper that we step aside, not them.”

Lu Qi was clearly displeased, but Ye Chang had already offended him today and didn’t care if Lu Qi was further annoyed. Nevertheless, the joy of having solved a difficult problem still made Lu Qi eager to share. He looked down on the other idlers and saw only Ye Chang as worthy of his boasting. So, he obediently dragged Ye Chang a short distance away and said, “I’ve finally figured out the secret to the money-taking game: as long as you ensure your opponent always has a number of coins that’s a multiple of four plus one, you’re guaranteed to win!”

Ye Chang was taken aback. Xiao Bairang hadn’t figured out the pattern after two days, yet Lu Qi had unraveled the secret in just half an afternoon—his intellect was truly remarkable!

No wonder, in history, he earned such an infamous reputation—even the legendary general Guo Ziyi feared him like a tiger.

“That’s exactly right, Young Master Lu. You truly have a gift for numbers. But it’s getting late—shouldn’t you be heading home?”

“Hmph, of course I’m leaving. But now that I’ve solved your riddle, I have one for you. Let’s see how you handle it.” Lu Qi sneered. “I suspect you have your own agenda with this football match in five days. But don’t forget, organizing such an event attracts crowds and disturbance—something the authorities strictly forbid. Just wait for the Prefect of Jingzhao to cause you trouble!”

With that, he strode away, not saying another word to Ye Chang.

At this stage, Lu Qi was still a youth, unable to hide his scheming nature. His last words were spoken loud enough for others to hear—not just Ye Chang, but Xiao Bairang as well, who, exhausted from Lu Qi’s constant pestering, approached with a bowl of mung bean soup. “What Master Lu said isn’t without reason. We were planning to spread the word about the match, but if the Prefect forbids it, all our efforts will be for nothing.”

The Prefect of Jingzhao was indeed responsible for the administration and security of Chang’an and had the authority to prohibit events. Since Lu Qi had left such a warning, he was clearly about to do everything in his power to interfere. Though his family had fallen from grace, his grandfather had been a chancellor and his father was now a county magistrate. It would be easy for him to persuade the Prefect to ban their match.

Ye Chang frowned. He’d given Lu Qi a tough problem that took him half an afternoon to solve, and now Lu Qi had tossed him a challenge in return. If he failed to resolve it, trouble would follow—and the prestige he gained from shaming Yuan Zai and the football game would be wasted.

“Who is the current Prefect of Jingzhao? What is his character like?” After some thought, Ye Chang asked Xiao Bairang.

“Unless Master He intervenes, knowing who the Prefect is won’t help much,” Xiao Bairang replied, knowing that He Zhizhang esteemed Ye Chang and hoping he would use that connection.

“Let’s not speak of that. Just tell me about the Prefect—his background and disposition,” Ye Chang said.

No matter how much He Zhizhang favored him, Ye Chang was unwilling to use that influence to pressure the Prefect, as it could have negative repercussions for his elderly patron.

“The current Prefect is Han Chaozong. He was once the Chief Administrator of Jingzhou and Inspector of Shannan Circuit...”

Han Chaozong!

Hearing the name, Ye Chang broke into a sweat again. This city of the flourishing Tang truly teemed with historical figures!

Han Chaozong’s greatest claim to fame was that Li Bai had famously written to him, saying, “If not a marquis with ten thousand households, let me at least meet Han of Jingzhou”—flattery raised to an art form. Yet, though Han was known for recommending the worthy and supporting the talented, he hadn’t valued Li Bai.

Xiao Bairang glanced at Ye Chang and added, “This Han Prefect has close ties with the Left Chancellor. When he was Censor, he recommended the Left Chancellor for promotion to Governor of Qinzhou. If Young Master Lu is truly connected to the Left Chancellor’s family, then...”

He fell silent, knowing Ye Chang understood the implication.

These city foxes and alley rats were well-informed, even unearthing details about Han Chaozong and Li Shizhi’s early relationship. Ye Chang frowned. With just this information, he saw no clear solution.

“When was Han Chaozong appointed Prefect of Jingzhao?” he asked.

“This year. His Majesty wishes to build a canal, so he appointed Han to the post. Back in the eighteenth year of the Kaiyuan era, Han and Fan An dredged the Chan and Luo rivers, which earned him this appointment.”

“Building a canal?” Ye Chang’s eyes lit up.

“However, Han Prefect seems averse to entertainments. Back when the late Emperor Ruizong wanted to promote the Qihan Hu game, Han stopped him. When the current Emperor ascended, in the sixth year of Kaiyuan, Han served as Remonstrator and, together with Chancellor Zhang Yue, memorialized to ban the Qihan Hu game,” Xiao Bairang added.

This was indeed a tough nut to crack!

After inquiring about the details of the ban, Ye Chang could clearly imagine Han Chaozong’s character: a most orthodox scholar-official, conservative, even somewhat inflexible. Such men rarely changed their minds—stubborn as a stone in a privy.

“Don’t mention this to anyone else. Just tell the brothers I have a way to get official permission for the match,” Ye Chang said quietly after some thought. “For now, focus on practicing. When the day comes, play your best!”

“Rest assured, sir. Even if the match isn’t allowed, we’ll still have our fun. This football game is much more convenient than cuju or polo.”

Ye Chang wasn’t worried about football’s popularity. With the foundation of cuju and polo, this sport, combining the best of both, would soon sweep through Chang’an.

The next morning, Ye Chang led the local idlers in a round of exercises, then, timing his departure, arrived at He Zhizhang’s residence just before lunch. The He mansion was in Xuanping ward, adjacent to Xinchang ward where Qinglong Temple stood. Upon arrival, Ye Chang announced himself and was quickly shown in.

After a few pleasantries, He Zhizhang asked, “Shiyi-lang, are you settling well in Chang’an?”

“Chang’an is wonderful in every way but one,” Ye Chang replied, having anticipated the question. “Unless it rains, the dust is suffocating.”

“That’s true. The city’s only real flaw,” He Zhizhang sighed.

“For the capital of the Tang, the center of the world, this hardly fits its image. Also, I’ve noticed many ditches and drains in disrepair, the roads, though patched often, remain full of ruts. At the first heavy rain, disaster strikes. Does the court have any plans to address this?”

Ye Chang’s words made He Zhizhang narrow his eyes.

Though He Zhizhang was a forthright man, he was no fool; Ye Chang’s meaning was obvious.

“Do you perhaps have a solution, Shiyi-lang?”

Ye Chang smiled. “I recall a certain material—costly at first, but durable. If it were used to pave Chang’an’s streets, dust in dry weather and floods in the rainy season would be greatly reduced, if not eliminated.”

“Does such a thing exist?” He Zhizhang was surprised, then recalled what Tan Qinshou had said of Ye Chang’s experiences. “Something from elsewhere?”

“Exactly.”

He Zhizhang stroked his beard for a long while, then said, “Would it be convenient to show me?”

“Since I am offering the idea to you, how could I refuse?” Ye Chang replied. “The materials are simple—slag, gravel, calcined shale, all crushed to powder, then mixed with a small amount of lime and gypsum.”

“These are worthless. One might not even find a place to buy them,” He Zhizhang remarked.

“Then send your men to collect them,” Ye Chang replied.

Though worthless, gathering the materials still took time. He Zhizhang dispatched several servants, who spent half a day gathering everything. The powders were ground with a mill, and brought to the mansion. By then, it was afternoon; Ye Chang had lunch at the house, joined by Zhang Xu and Yan Zhenqing, who were recounting yesterday’s football game to He Zhizhang. The old gentleman laughed heartily and insisted on seeing the game for himself.

With all materials at hand, Ye Chang said, “Let’s attend to this first... I’m all talk and no action—I’ll have to trouble the masons.”

The masons, already waiting, began mixing the powders with river sand under Ye Chang’s direction. Once he judged the mix even, he had them pave a corner of the courtyard.

This was, in essence, a kind of earthen cement. In the impoverished mountain region where Ye Chang had once taught, the locals, lacking resources, had invented it to build irrigation channels. Ye Chang had witnessed its making: simple ingredients, simple method, requiring almost no machinery—production was only limited by manual labor.

Of course, it was not as strong or durable as true cement, but in this era, roads were not expected to withstand the crushing weight of heavy vehicles. Under Ye Chang’s guidance, the masons soon mastered the technique, and the finished surface was smooth and pleasing to the eye.

“It can’t be walked on yet—it needs to dry. In a couple of days, it will be ready,” Ye Chang explained.

“How long will it take?” they asked.

“Two days will suffice.”

“If this material really hardens the surface for two or three years without significant damage, it will be of great benefit to our Tang!” Zhang Xu exclaimed, clapping his hands. “I begin to understand why Manager Tan looked at you with nothing but admiration!”

“Are you trying to flatter me to death, Zhang Gong?” Ye Chang laughed.

“Flatter you to death?” Zhang Xu was stunned, then burst out laughing. “What a phrase! I must remember it!”

“In that case, two days from now, I’ll invite Prefect Han for a small gathering here.” He Zhizhang, trusting Ye Chang completely, made up his mind. “We’ll see what you can do then, Shiyi-lang.”

Ye Chang smiled and said nothing.