LFHYB -Chapter 208 The Cunning Prince of Jin

Li Xuanba had indeed guessed that there might be an epidemic on the grasslands.

Not mentioning the epidemic was already a big deal. Li Shimin and the others could only keep it from Li Xuanba for a short while; it was impossible to completely hide it from Chang’an. When Yuwen Zhu delivered her letter to Sun Simiao, Li Xuanba was pretending to be Sun Simiao’s medicine boy, messing with some traditional medicine prescriptions he remembered.

Yuwen Zhu had also worried that Li Xuanba might see the letter, so she hid her questions about epidemic prevention within everyday consultations. But Li Xuanba already had a general idea of the situation during this period and quickly guessed there was an epidemic on the grasslands.

From the Wude to Zhenguan eras, many major epidemics occurred. During wartime, there are no records of the affected commoners, but one can see from historical records of the nobility that the northern epidemic was severe.

Historically, Shi Bi Khan led troops across the Yellow River, intending to attack Tang with Liang Shidu, but fell ill and died in the army. His successor, Chu Luo Khan, captured in this timeline by Second Brother in the Turkish camp as Asina Silifu, also fell ill before attacking Tang and, following Princess Yicheng’s advice, took a fatal dose of Wushi Powder.

If the deaths of these two khans could be considered coincidental, then adding the simultaneous experiences of Qin Wang Li Shimin and Western Qin’s Warlord before and after the “Battle of the Two Qin Kings” confirms that an epidemic occurred along the line from Longxi to the grasslands near the Yellow River during this period.

When Li Shimin first clashed with Xue Ju, he handed military command to Liu Wenjing and Yin Kaishan due to severe illness. Although he arrived early on the battlefield, facing Xue Ju was his first time commanding an army alone. Before entering Chang’an, the army was commanded by Li Yuan.

At that time, Qin Wang’s loyal generals Liu Wenjing and Yin Kaishan did not yet know the young Li Shimin’s abilities. Like Shi Wanbao, who later betrayed Li Daoxuan, they relied on their experience as veteran commanders and didn’t take Li Shimin’s instructions seriously, making rash decisions to engage in battle. Tang forces suffered a devastating defeat and were besieged by Xue Ju.

Many later readers of the historical record doubted the claim of “Li Shimin was severely ill,” suspecting it was a posthumous cover-up to protect him. Could it really be that his first time as sole commander coincided with severe illness?

Reading further, the doubters would see Xue Ju die from the same severe epidemic and realize that Li Shimin’s illness was real.

Li Shimin was affected first but survived; Xue Ju caught it later and did not survive.

By examining the frequent mentions of illness among those in power in historical texts and comparing descriptions of the military, one can see multiple instances of sickness, confirming the epidemic’s timing and scope.

Li Xuanba compared maps with his memories of historical records and roughly determined the possible epidemic areas.

Because this Tang Dynasty was stronger and had a wider territory than in the original timeline, much of the epidemic that historically occurred in “enemy-occupied regions” now fell within Tang territory.

Li Xuanba urgently convened a court meeting, placing the matter in Sun Simiao’s hands.

Sun Simiao wanted to personally enter the epidemic areas, but Li Xuanba forbade it.

“You may circulate around the periphery, but absolutely do not enter. I only trust you as the physician capable of controlling this epidemic. If anything happens to you, who will bear the burden of the coming years’ successive epidemics? Should Zhuniang face it alone?” Li Xuanba said bluntly.

Looking at the “future epidemic chart” Li Xuanba had prepared for him, Sun Simiao felt that all his efforts at health cultivation might be wasted.

Of course, he wasn’t angry at Li Xuanba—he was cursing Heaven.

The common people had just survived the chaos of war, and now epidemics again? That cruel Heaven never ends!

Sun Simiao, a Daoist, was so frustrated that he went to curse at the statue of his own ancestral master.

Thinking about the major epidemics still to come—some of which might involve water-borne poisons or plague, illnesses that couldn’t currently be treated and could only be prevented—Sun Simiao felt his scalp tingle.

He gathered his colleagues at the Imperial Medical Academy, working day and night by lamplight, revising and improving the ancient epidemic-prevention prescriptions. The imperial physicians, carrying their medicine boxes, brought along doctors that Li Xuanba had recruited from among the common people, and each was stationed in a different area severely affected by disease.

These areas were not far from Chang’an, and their immediate priority was to prevent the epidemic from spreading to the capital.

When Li Xuanba learned that Sun Simiao had scolded while pointing at the deity statues, he could only say that the founder had been wrongly accused.

After a major upheaval, a severe epidemic was inevitable; this was a law of social development. Ancient plagues were hard to eradicate—like sparks that never fully die out, as soon as the people’s lives worsened even slightly, the epidemics would flare up again.

In ancient times, epidemic prevention largely consisted of the court sending officials to establish quarantine zones in affected areas. If the sick all died and the disease didn’t spread, the prevention was considered a complete success.

Without modern medicine, Li Xuanba could not surpass the limits of reality to save lives.

The methods he adopted were similar to those historically used by Emperor Taizong of Tang.

In the third year of the Zhenguan era, Emperor Taizong appointed medical doctors in local regions—official physicians. Each prefecture had only one or two such doctors. Though they could not control an epidemic, they could report to the Imperial Medical Bureau immediately when one broke out. Then the emperor could promptly dispatch imperial physicians with medicine to assist the affected area, keeping the epidemic contained as much as possible.

Records from the Zhenguan era describe these plagues as severe illnesses causing skin ulcers down to the stomach, often secondary diseases arising after floods or droughts—plague. But these epidemics were mostly confined to the counties where they occurred. While they could not save those already sick, the emperor’s epidemic prevention work was considered quite effective for the time.

Li Xuanba had not yet had time to establish local medical academies, but he was already discussing the matter with his mother. The plan was ready; once his elder brother ascended the throne, he would have him implement it.

Such measures to win the hearts of the people had to be carried out by the emperor himself.

Without the reports of local medical doctors, Li Xuanba, relying on his compilation of historical fragments and intelligence gathered from across the land, was able to identify the epidemic zones and dispatched over a hundred imperial physicians to assist.

The presence of so many physicians depended entirely on Sun Simiao’s reputation.

Upon arriving in Chang’an, Li Xuanba used himself as a case example, grandly promoting Sun Simiao and Yuwen Zhu as “miracle workers,” and announced the upcoming establishment of an official medical academy in Chang’an. Any competent civilian doctor who passed the examination could study there without tuition or lodging fees, and the outstanding ones could enter the Imperial Medical Academy or local medical academies.

Civilian doctors flocked to Chang’an to “pay homage,” awaiting the opening of the official academy.

Li Xuanba set up temporary assessments, admitting a batch of doctors to the Imperial Medical Academy, while allowing the rest to shadow the imperial physicians. Those who distinguished themselves in epidemic prevention would be exempt from exams in the future and receive rewards.

Generous rewards always attract brave men. The doctors were unafraid of dying and braved the epidemic zones.

Li Xuanba’s swift and decisive actions left the court officials running at full speed, barely having time to catch their breath.

Weren’t they still discussing the aftermath of Li Jiancheng’s alleged rebellion? Weren’t the noble families who invested in Li Jiancheng still sacrificing for the Crown Prince? Weren’t the Shandong noble families that hadn’t managed to join in still zealously supporting the Crown Prince, their “Stone Forest” leader?

Some loyal ministers, concerned for the Tang dynasty but unfamiliar with the way Li Shimin and Li Xuanba interacted, worried that the high-profile approach of the Crown Prince might mean he intended to seize power while the heir apparent was away.

Li Xuanba first “hit them with a club” and then handed them a cup of sweet milk tea, calming the noble families and making them acknowledge their status as Tang ministers. But instead of taking advantage of the situation further, he focused on epidemic prevention.

Wait—there was a major epidemic around Chang’an? If we didn’t act promptly, it would spread to us? This is terrifying! How did we only learn of it after the Crown Prince had already taken action?

Even amidst wars, floods, and disasters, the capital’s nobles were largely unconcerned—they might suffer losses, but not too severe, and their luxurious lives could continue.

An epidemic was different.

Disease knows no rank. Even the most privileged, no matter how much they cultivated health, would still die if a major epidemic reached their residence.

The Records of the Three Kingdoms note that in the 22nd year of Jian’an, a great epidemic “caused wailing in every household.” Among the “Seven Scholars of Jian’an,” five—Wang Can, Xu Gan, Chen Lin, Ying Yang, and Liu Zhen—as well as Sima Yi’s elder brother Sima Lang, and Lu Su, who contracted illness while fighting the Cao army, all died in this epidemic.

If the plague reached Chang’an, the nobles would have no good days ahead.

At this time, rumors spread that Li Xuanba, the Duke of Jin, privately declared that anyone not acting as a loyal Tang subject would be expelled from Chang’an. This would show the Tang’s mercy while letting the epidemic punish them.

Li Xuanba stated that these were all rumors and arrested several who spread them.

But the capital’s elites believed it was something Li Xuanba could do. Though he appeared to have the reputation of being “virtuous and benevolent,” he was actually ruthless, cunning, and extremely devious. He would seize any opportunity to achieve something like “killing with a borrowed sword” without dirtying his hands.

Du Ruhui smiled wryly: “Even the threshold of my home has almost been trampled by members of the Jingzhao Du clan. Since I returned to the capital, the main branch of the Jingzhao Du clan has been calm and dignified, claiming that Du descendants can be recognized by the emperor for their talent, just as I have been. Why are they panicking now? My Jingzhao Du clan has never wronged the Tang. Why the fear?”

Fang Qiao, likewise, wore an exasperated expression: “My family, the Qinghe Fang clan, has been declining for over a hundred years. There’s no reason for them to treat themselves as great families and seek help from me because they didn’t fully support the Tang. By serving the Duke, haven’t I been giving full support on behalf of the Qinghe Fang clan? Besides me, who else in the family is talented enough?”

The two of them exchanged looks at Li Xuanba, silently asking, “Shouldn’t you reflect on yourself?”

Zhao Cijing, reluctantly dragged by Li Xuanba to participate in the core council of chancellors, said: “Isn’t this all because Li Sanlang (Li Xuanba) listed the genealogies of the noble families and their marital ties, scaring them half to death?”

At the literary gathering, other matters were spread by word of mouth with vivid detail, but the fact that Li Xuanba was counting the genealogies of noble families while talking to their heirs wasn’t even whispered outside.

What Li Xuanba was doing did show his respect for the noble heirs, but this same respect became a little intimidating when he started reorganizing the court.

Li Xuanba changed the subject: “I do have matters I need them to handle. I want to repair the irrigation systems of the Wei River and dredge the canals across the Guanzhong Plain. Many fertile fields are in their hands, and I hope they’ll support me. In return, they’ll get priority for ordering glass, tea, and new soaps and skincare products.”

He deliberately specified “glass,” not “colored glaze.”

This is a high-end Tang-made product, like fine porcelain—not some shallow-looking stone dug from underground, nor a provincial specialty from the barbarians lacking the essence of the Central Plains.

Moreover, Li Xuanba still hadn’t produced large, fully transparent sheets of glass, but by raising the kiln temperature, he had made breakthroughs in porcelain-making techniques.

During the Sui and early Tang periods, porcelain was still somewhat rough. He had now assigned half his artisans to research porcelain. If they could reproduce all the varieties—white porcelain, soft porcelain, painted porcelain, blue-and-white porcelain—getting the nobles and gentry to contribute generously would become much easier.

During the Sui and Tang, the economy was largely manorial. Nobles and gentry kept artisans and tenant farmers at home; everything they ate, wore, and used was self-produced. They could be entirely self-sufficient behind closed doors, while commoners were still required to “serve” the powerful. Commerce was not developed.

So Li Xuanba needed to offer rare, hard-to-replicate items to make the nobles willingly provide money and resources. This would not only generate profit but also activate trade taxes, allowing officials to refine commercial taxation laws through practice.

Was his flaunting in the dead of winter just for show?

By showing off, he could intimidate the heirs of the noble families, have them regard him as a “trendsetter,” and also use it to raise funds.

“They’re still worrying about the epidemic, and you’re already thinking about irrigation in Guanzhong?” Du Ruhui said, half amused, half exasperated. “You jump from one thing to another; they’ll never keep up with your thoughts.”

Li Xuanba replied helplessly: “Jump from one thing to another? We’re governing the country! In the north, the Turks are invading; in the west, there’s an epidemic; the Guanzhong irrigation system needs repair; in the east and south, rebel forces remain. I think they have something wrong with their heads—can they only focus on one thing at a time? Have they all learned bad habits from Yang Guang? Fighting a war means ignoring people’s livelihoods? Not caring for the whole picture?”

Li Xuanba pressed his temples, feeling exhausted.

Once his elder brother returned, he would dump all these responsibilities on him and run away with Zhuniang!

Without a few months of real rest, he could never recover from this mental strain.

No wonder wise rulers had to be energetic. Capable feudal kings wielded absolute power—which meant everything relied on them. How could one not be tired?

Such fatigue should be enjoyed by his elder brother. He was only a prince and not worthy of exhausting himself for the Tang.

Listening to Li Xuanba cursing officials and then his elder brother, Fang Qiao, Du Ruhui, and Zhao Cijing—who had been dragged into this by Li Xuanba despite slacking off—felt as if they were being scolded too.

Fang Qiao hurriedly soothed him: “Alright, alright, stop scolding. If those people had any ability, they wouldn’t have failed to restrain Emperor Yang and caused the rise and fall of the Sui dynasty’s second generation. You have a weak heart; you shouldn’t get so worked up.”

Du Ruhui handed Li Xuanba some tea: “If those fools can’t keep up, let them trail behind you. No need to think, just run after you. Don’t you still have us? When our lord returns, I’ll help you scold him too. The emperor should stay in the capital to govern; the Turk problem can be handled by sending a general. General Changsun is now in good health, and Lord Pei is energetic as well.”

Zhao Cijing didn’t dare speak, just posing as a handsome backdrop.

After cursing for a while, Li Xuanba finally regained his composure.

These nobles were all thinking about their families and official positions, worrying that the Tang’s forthcoming court and bureaucratic reforms might harm their interests. “Recovery and cultivation” was something they would only consider after settling their official titles. Li Xuanba was already tackling people’s livelihoods, which they found disconcerting and considered him off-topic.

But the world is complex, with countless daily issues—how could one only handle one thing at a time? They complained about Li Xuanba’s speed of action, and he in turn scolded them for having lumps on their heads!

“This epidemic should have scared them straight. Now they should behave,” Li Xuanba said after catching his breath, continuing his arrangements. “I’ll have them contribute through pre-ordering goods—that’s my way of giving them face. Hopefully, they’ll appreciate my goodwill. The Cui family of Boling wanted to send someone to be my disciple, but my status forbids taking disciples. He’ll first join the Jin Prince’s mansion as a literary clerk. I’ll teach him to enter officialdom via the imperial exams.”

“Also, make it clear to the nobles and heirs following your path: besides supporting Tang in repairing Guanzhong irrigation, they should enthusiastically participate in the first imperial examination under our elder brother’s reign. Anyone unwilling—kick them out of the capital,” Li Xuanba said through gritted teeth.

The three exchanged glances.

That “rumor” must have been spread by Li Sanlang, after all.