LFHYB -Chapter 225 Stir Things Up and Let Go

Li Shimin’s “capture” of Li Xuanba ended abruptly and ineffectively.

The loyal ministers swore never to help the emperor with such foolish antics again.

When the emperor and the Prince of Jin come together, their combined intelligence drops by half, then by half again. More alarmingly, they drag their companions down with them, driving everyone around them crazy.

“Truly terrifying,” Wei Zheng commented.

Faced with Wei Zheng self-deprecatingly critiquing his own actions, Li Xuanba only gave him a smile. Wei Zheng’s face darkened even further—nearly as black as when he advised Li Xuanba in the court.

When the two brothers, Li Shimin and Li Xuanba, were together, the only way to survive was to focus on official business to avoid being exasperated to death.

Li Shimin swaggered out of the palace to stay temporarily at the Jin Prince’s mansion.

“Guanyin said she hasn’t seen your Zhuniang for a long time and wants to chase me out for a few days,” Li Shimin said carelessly. “Then I’ll just stay at your place.”

Li Xuanba said: “What about court? Go to the palace at dawn?”

Li Shimin smiled: “I’m in a hurry to travel and feeling unwell. No court for a few days.”

Li Xuanba was speechless. Do you think the ministers will believe that? You just want to watch them panic while you leave them hanging.

“Second Brother, well done. That’s how it should be—don’t indulge them,” treacherous Li Xuanba gave a thumbs-up to his elder brother.

Li Shimin wore a self-satisfied expression.

Xue Shou raised a hand to cover his eyes, avoiding Wei Zheng’s expression.

Thankfully, Li Shimin and Li Xuanba didn’t continue their foolish, treacherous antics and instead earnestly discussed state affairs; otherwise, Wei Zheng would have dragged Li Xuanba and scolded him thoroughly.

Li Xuanba got things started. After updating a few people on the current situation, he just sat aside with a cup of floral tea, dozing off.

He had already handled the hardest part; the rest of the details were naturally left to others.

Li Xuanba wasn’t worried at all that the ministers of the Zhenguan era would give him trouble. What he was doing now wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision.

Fang Qiao and Du Ruhui, looking at the treasury books and household records, were so anxious that their hair was falling out and hairpins could barely hold up. Back in the first month of the new era, they had already begun drafting documents to curb the temples.

The Emperor Wen of Sui and his empress were devout Buddhists who gave Buddhism extraordinary privileges. Temples were tax-exempt, and there were almost no restrictions for commoners entering monastic life.

During times of chaos, many commoners fled to temples to become monks. Temples had effectively turned into local powerhouses, sometimes even maintaining armed monks under the guise of self-protection.

For powerful aristocratic families, it was difficult to manage their estates, but Buddhism was an outsider, and life-and-death decisions were up to the court—so restricting temples was easier.

However, because of the Sui emperors’ influence, many commoners were Buddhist. Suppressing Buddhism rashly could panic the people. Furthermore, since the nobles also believed in Buddhism, Fang Qiao and Du Ruhui had to consider the feelings of the aristocracy. Their drafts had been discarded several times and were very cautious.

Now, the Tang Dynasty was in a difficult situation, yet the nobles in the capital were extravagant during the Buddha’s birthday ceremonies. Not only had Fang Qiao and Du Ruhui complained, but Wei Zheng had also initially planned to directly name and scold these nobles, only to be persuaded otherwise by Xue Shou.

If Wei Zheng went ahead with the scolding, nine out of ten nobles in the capital would be publicly rebuked. Even if the emperor protected Wei Zheng, he would still have to be reassigned.

Wei Zheng had also planned to petition against Shandong aristocratic families lowering marriage standards in exchange for wealth, but Fang Qiao directly held back the petition and brought Wei Zheng to Li Xuanba’s residence, asking Li Xuanba to explain the aristocratic customs to Wei Zheng, who came from a humble family.

These were the usual trivialities of the aristocratic families. If they were absurd, let them be; as long as it didn’t concern the Tang state, there was no need to create unnecessary trouble.

One moment it was the nobles’ customs, the next the aristocrats’ rules. Even though Wei Zheng was full of anger, he didn’t act rashly.

He wasn’t remonstrating for the sake of remonstration; he remonstrated to make Tang stronger and himself a renowned minister for all time. Hence, he could also accept remonstration.

Although Li Xuanba was technically retired at home, whenever these people had ideas or difficulties, they would come to consult him.

Li Xuanba knew they weren’t just seeking his cleverness—they also wanted to use him as a messenger to gauge his elder brother’s thoughts.

Li Shimin had once felt a bit hurt.

Previously, Fang Qiao and the others would speak to him directly, but now they had to go around him.

“People’s hearts are hidden; old friends’ minds can change. They still use me to convey their true thoughts to you—it already means they still see you as the old Li Erlang,” Li Xuanba comforted him. “Besides, since you are now sovereign and ministers, you not minding the status shows your goodwill, and them respecting the ministerial role is their support for you.”

Li Shimin finally felt cheered.

Li Xuanba also discussed with his brother whether their hesitation was due to concern about whether the Tang imperial family favored Buddhism or aristocratic families.

Li Shimin’s and Li Xuanba’s names were both derived from Buddhist terms, and the Li family had intermarried with the Longxi Li clan. In fact, the Tang was one of the strongest “Shandong aristocratic” houses. On the surface, it didn’t seem like the imperial family would necessarily support their actions.

Li Xuanba relayed his elder brother’s stance to Fang Qiao and the others and then quietly waited for them to propose a policy.

Whether it was disciplining aristocratic families or curbing the expansion of religious power, they were sure to come up with regulations this year.

However, Wei Zheng thought Fang Qiao and Du Ruhui were moving too slowly and persuaded Li Shimin to call Li Xuanba back to the court.

Since they all had to use Li Xuanba to test the emperor’s intent, why not make him chancellor directly?

Li Xuanba should have been chancellor anyway; he had only used illness as an excuse to slack off, and had been hiding for half a year.

Half a year of rest was enough—third young master should start working! You’re still so young; how can you be so lazy!

Fang Qiao and Du Ruhui had been deliberating day and night, cautious in every step, yet half a year later, no documents had been submitted. Wei Zheng was ready to support them in confronting the court, restraining the censors and waiting for the right moment—he was fuming.

Ultimately, Li Xuanba returned to court.

Wei Zheng expected him to handle each problem step by step with the ministers. But unexpectedly, Li Xuanba, taking advantage of their absence, gathered all issues together and revealed them at once.

Li Xuanba clapped his hands, spread them wide, and showed a smile that said, “This is your own choice.”

Although Li Xuanba’s move was shocking, since they had prepared for half a year, gritting their teeth allowed the plans to proceed—only the process was more stressful and dramatic.

Li Shimin raised his hand, signaling them to remain silent for now.

He had someone bring a thin silk blanket to cover the curled-up, sleeping Li Xuanba in his chair, then tiptoed with the others to the next room to resume discussion.

“The chair is so comfortable—I want to turn the imperial couch into chairs too!” Li Shimin said. “The chair backs should be carved with twelve glorious patterns.”

Wei Zheng replied perfunctorily, “Your Majesty can decide such matters yourself—let’s continue with business.”

Xue Shou, being the son of a great scholar, had wanted to offer advice, but seeing no one around cared, he didn’t bother.

By the time Li Xuanba woke up, Li Shimin was already in the courtyard showing off his whole-roasted lamb technique.

Yuwen Zhu hadn’t returned and was staying in the Empress’s palace.

According to the maid who came back with news, Zhuniang had even tugged at her sister-in-law’s hairdo, so it seemed they had quarreled.

Li Shimin cut a few pieces of meat for his brother, wrapping them in flatbread: “I heard you had your sister-in-law send some curious little things to the Guanyin. Why didn’t you give me any?”

Li Xuanba replied, “Just some simple board-game-like diversions. You wouldn’t be interested.”

Li Shimin smiled and didn’t say more.

He knew Li Xuanba had been concerned that Changsun Kangning might not get along with the unfamiliar people in the harem, so he had prepared simple games for her to enjoy in the palace.

When a younger brother-in-law shows too much concern for his sister-in-law, it’s bound to invite gossip. Seeing that Li Xuanba didn’t want to say more, Li Shimin dropped the subject.

“Are you worried I’ll treat your sister-in-law badly?” Li Shimin joked.

Li Xuanba replied, “Once you’re emperor, you’ll be busy every day. I’ll have Zhuniang teach Sister-in-law some games she can play even in the palace, so she won’t miss you.”

Li Shimin couldn’t laugh anymore. He realized his brother was deliberately trying to irritate him.

Right—here I am working hard at being emperor, and not only do you want to slack off yourself, you even want Guanyinbi to have fun every single day right in front of me. You’re doing this on purpose to make me mad!

Li Shimin stuffed the flatbread wrapped with lamb into Li Xuanba’s mouth to shut him up.

“Do you think this time things will go smoothly?” Li Shimin rolled himself a flatbread too, chewing without the slightest decorum as he asked indistinctly.

Li Xuanba swallowed what was in his mouth, wiped his lips, and then answered, “Yes. Do they dare rebel? If they had the ability to rebel, they should’ve been competing with you for the realm long ago.”

Li Shimin laughed so hard he nearly choked.

…

Li Shimin stayed at the Prince of Jin’s residence for three days before returning to court.

It was rare to see His Majesty the Emperor and His Highness the Prince of Jin appear in court together again. Many officials’ mouths and eyes twitched subtly.

Some even cast covert glances toward Wei Zheng.

Everyone knew that Li Xuanba had been forcibly dragged out of the Prince of Jin’s residence by Wei Zheng.

That rascal Wei was a disaster!

Halfway through the court session, to the utter horror of the assembled officials, the Retired Emperor Li Yuan actually appeared in court.

The Retired Emperor announced, “I’ve been bored. I’ll preside over this grand debate between Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism.”

The officials looked at His Majesty the Emperor.

His Majesty indicated that he was a filial son—whatever his father said went.

The officials then looked at His Highness the Prince of Jin.

His Highness indicated that he too was a filial son and would assist his father well.

The officials were utterly baffled. How had these three—father and sons—suddenly become so loving and harmonious? Hadn’t the Retired Emperor been said to be depressed and gravely ill, on the verge of death?!

With the Retired Emperor present, the officials who opposed the matter swallowed their objections with great difficulty, words stuck in their throats.

There had been rumors among the populace that His Majesty had forced his father to abdicate. With the Retired Emperor’s high-profile appearance, those rumors collapsed on their own.

For His Majesty and the entire Li royal house, this mattered more than anything else. No matter what the Retired Emperor came out to do this time, no one could stop him from reappearing before the public.

They once again looked at the Prince of Jin, who wore the expression of a good son, and a chill crept up their spines.

Especially those families who had recently been impeached into utter misery over marrying off their daughters—they began to ponder Li Xuanba’s true intentions in stirring up the Censorate to attack them.

Some people, however, felt a secret thrill of delight.

Each new emperor favors a new set of great families. Back then it had been the Wang clan of Langya and the Xie clan of Chen Commandery—who still flatters them now?

The “Five Surnames and Seven Great Clans” were aristocratic houses propped up by Northern Wei to contend with the Southern Dynasties. Now that the dynasty had changed, shouldn’t it be time to change to a different “few surnames, few great houses”?

The Guanzhong clans had always envied the prestige of the Shandong clans, sparing no effort to form ties with them. But if given the chance to trample the Shandong clans underfoot, they were equally enthusiastic.

These people were clearly, in private, already discussing marriage alliances with the Shandong clans, yet in court they accused the Shandong clans of selling their daughters for profit and disgracing scholarship and propriety. It nearly made Li Xuanba laugh out loud.

Oh—he was already laughing uproariously in his heart in all sorts of exaggerated tones, mocking the shamelessness of the Guanzhong clans.

Li Shimin worked very hard to keep a straight face, his hands clasped over his knees, pinching the backs of his hands until they turned dark with bruises.

Only now did he realize just how much pain his younger brother’s presence at court would bring him.

Li Xuanba’s position was such that Li Shimin was completely enveloped by the range of his inner voice!

Please stop shouting already—I can barely hold back my laughter! Li Shimin pinched himself again.

Li Xuanba (inner voice): [Second Brother, do you believe that even though they’re arguing so fiercely right now, after court they’ll still keep pushing these marriage alliances?]

Li Shimin (inner voice): [I believe it.]

Li Xuanba (inner voice): [Such thick skin. Quickly hand over the job of writing the Veritable Records of Taizong to me—I want to write this in.]

Li Shimin (inner voice): [Huh?]

Li Xuanba (inner voice): [If you let me write your Daily Records, I’ll secretly tell you what I wrote in them.]

Li Shimin (inner voice): [Deal!]

Li Shimin (inner voice): [Uh…]

Li Shimin (inner voice): [Forget it.]

Li Xuanba was puzzled: [Why? You don’t want to read them?]

Li Shimin shot Li Xuanba a look that said, How can you even ask why?

If A-Xuan were in charge of the Daily Records, he would definitely embellish them with wild exaggerations. And if Li Shimin tried to make him change anything, A-Xuan would drag everyone over and loudly shout, “Here’s a foolish emperor trying to revise history!” To avoid being angered to death, this job absolutely could not be given to A-Xuan.

When Fang Qiao and the others saw Li Shimin and Li Xuanba communicating with their eyes, they knew exactly what the brothers were doing.

They exchanged helpless looks.

Wei Zheng began to wonder whether inviting Li Xuanba back to court was the greatest mistake of his life.

The court argued the entire day.

Midway through, Li Xuanba used poor health as an excuse and, under Li Shimin’s resentful gaze, went to sleep in a side hall next door.

When Li Xuanba left, whether they supported him or opposed him, all the officials felt utterly drained.

Li Xuanba had single-handedly stirred up a storm, yet when they were locked in heated debate, he didn’t say a word—he even patted his backside and went off to rest. They wanted to impeach His Highness the Prince of Jin, but when even His Majesty the Emperor could do nothing about him, what could they possibly do?

At this moment, countless people sighed inwardly: if only a rift would form between His Majesty and the Prince of Jin; if only His Majesty would become suspicious of him; if only… if only the Prince of Jin’s health weren’t so poor, His Majesty would surely be wary of him. Why did the Prince of Jin have to be such a sickly man—and yet a sickly man with such stubborn longevity?

Prince of Jin, Li Xuanba—truly detestable.

After the Prince of Chu was “escorted” back to the capital, Li Xuanba became even more idle. He was clearly a chancellor, yet he neither attended court nor reported for duty on time.

The retired emperor and empress had both spoken: the Prince of Jin had been weak and sickly since childhood, so special circumstances required special treatment.

Could the officials really impeach the retired emperor and empress?

Only then did the court realize that having a retired emperor who could still overrule the reigning emperor was not necessarily a good thing. It made things far too easy for ill-intentioned people to take advantage of the situation.

No matter how uncomfortable the ministers felt, and no matter how their resentment toward Li Xuanba’s “unnaturally strong fate” grew day by day, events continued to surge forward like raging waves, advancing relentlessly until they finally crashed against the shore in a spectacular spray.

Under the retired emperor’s direction, the Tang Dynasty once again held a grand debate between Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism, following the precedent of the Northern Zhou.

Li Xuanba hired clerks to take real-time shorthand notes of the debates. That very night, they compiled the records into booklets, which could be printed within two or three days at most and sold in the markets under the name of “official notices,” bringing in enormous profits.

Some officials loudly condemned Li Xuanba for taking advantage of the situation to amass wealth. In response, Li Xuanba promptly reinvested the money into public works projects at Tangquan Palace, using labor-for-relief programs.

Li Shimin suppressed the matter with the excuse, “This is an act of filial piety toward the retired emperor.” The ministers had no choice but to let it go.

After all, “filial piety” outweighed everything.

The emperor urgently needed to show the world how dutiful he was. When it involved the retired emperor who had been forced to abdicate, even Wei Zheng dared not offer remonstrance.

Using the appearance of “profiteering,” Li Xuanba quietly promoted an official newspaper, letting commoners know that they could buy these “notices” to obtain firsthand information from the court.

Once this opening was made, Li Xuanba normalized the practice of “printing and selling notices,” yet it surprisingly failed to arouse much suspicion among court officials.

Because they were labeled as “government notices,” local powerful families did not rush to imitate them. Even local governments dared not follow suit.

“The printing speed is still too slow. Oh well, it’ll have to do,” Li Xuanba said regretfully, seeing that even with full effort, his workshops could only produce a monthly edition.

First, he rode the wave of popularity by printing materials about the “past and present lives” of Buddhism and Daoism. Next—what should he print?

Li Xuanba clasped his hands and smiled.

“Let’s expose aristocratic genealogies. Aren’t the great families always disgusted by fake noble clans that fabricate family records? Don’t they always say they want to compile a new Tang-era ranking of noble houses, separating truth from falsehood? This fits their wishes perfectly.”

“Oh, right. Let’s start by uncovering whether the Hongnong Yang clan of the Sui and the Longxi Li clan of the Tang are genuine or not. Hahahaha!”

Li Shimin sneezed.

He rubbed his nose, looking rather world-weary.

Changsun Kangning draped a cloak over him as he worked late into the night. “Too tired?”

Li Shimin sighed. “Mentally exhausted. Even though I’ve already agreed to let A-Xuan run that newspaper thing and stir up conflicts among the noble families…”

He paused, then laughed softly. “Forget it. Since I’ve agreed, I’ll just wait and enjoy the show.”

Changsun Kangning didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. You hardly look exhausted at all.

She asked, “Is it really okay to involve the imperial family too?”

Li Shimin snorted. “What’s the problem? Do you think the Longxi Li clan truly believes we’re one of them? I know very well what they say in private. Fine—let’s see if they dare to stand up and claim that our Li-Tang isn’t a genuine Longxi Li clan.”

Changsun Kangning said, “The Hongnong Yang clan will definitely insist that the Sui royal family belonged to them.”

Li Shimin raised his brows. “Of course. Aside from the Sui imperial house, they don’t have anyone else with real power anymore.”

The Confucian–Buddhist–Daoist debates continued.

Scholars held the purchasable official notices and argued fiercely. Ordinary people crowded around them, listening to explanations of the fresh news printed inside.

Daoist disciples, as always, accused Buddhism of being a malicious foreign import.

Buddhist disciples, as always, accused Daoists of deceiving the masses, inciting rebellion, and poisoning emperors with alchemy.

Great Confucian scholars scolded both sides together.

One particularly fierce scholar, Wang Yun of the Langya Wang clan, went so far as to declare that both Buddhism and Daoism were merely tools to numb the people and make them endure suffering—that neither was good for anything. Even court officials joined in arguing with him.

Especially Wei Zheng, the Censor-in-Chief, who had once been a Daoist, actually rushed forward to beat Wang. The retired emperor ordered him into seclusion for misconduct before the throne.

Xiao Yu, a former prince of the Liang Dynasty and a devout Buddhist, merely cursed Wang Yun, saying, “Hell was made for people like you.” He was utterly shocked that Wei Zheng had charged in with clenched fists.

The anti-Buddhist crusader Fu Yi fell into deep thought, staring at his own fists and wondering how many bald monks he could take on.

Xuanzang was completely stunned by the chaos of the debate.

He pressed his palms together. “Fortunately, this poor monk became a monk and didn’t enter officialdom. The atmosphere at the Tang court is far too ferocious! I really can’t accept debates like this. Can’t everyone be more peaceful and just argue with words?”

The gentle young monk Xuanzang sighed repeatedly.

The debates lasted a full month. The people of Chang’an had their fill of excitement. The “government bulletin,” shortened to “Official Gazette,” was carried by merchants throughout the empire. Even Li Jing in distant Jiangnan received copies.

Xue Daoheng had fallen ill from the summer heat, and Li Jing was keeping watch over him, preventing him from overexerting himself.

After Li Jing finished reading the Gazette aloud, Xue Daoheng opened his eyes.

“It’s not normal that His Majesty and the Prince of Jin didn’t directly attach these gazettes to official documents and send them to us. They must be planning something bigger.”

Li Jing said nothing.

Xue Daoheng looked at him. “You’ve already guessed what they’re going to do?”

Li Jing remained silent.

Xue Daoheng snorted. “So cautious.”

He closed his eyes again. What exactly were Li Erlang and Li Sanlang planning next?

Yuwen Bi was thinking about the same question.

“The two boys have grown up. Even I can’t see through them anymore,” he sighed.

On the grasslands, Changsun Sheng had received a Gazette personally sent by Li Xuanba.

Almost provocatively, Li Xuanba asked whether he could guess what he would do next.

Changsun Sheng laughed until he coughed.

“What next? Do you even need a ‘next step’? The Gazette itself is already your goal. But, Dade, there are many clever people in the world. Sooner or later, they’ll figure out your methods. If you can use them, others can too. If you can use the Gazette to guide public opinion, others can do the same. Aren’t you afraid of backlash?”

“Or is it that you simply don’t care what happens after you die?”

“Even if you don’t care, Erlang shouldn’t be that kind of person. Why would he agree to it?”

“Hahaha… there are things even I can’t figure out. Interesting… truly interesting.”

Before Gao Jiong reached Yiwu City, he saw the official gazette at a resting post.

He immediately wanted to return to the capital, but while saddling his horse, he sighed and paused.

“Erlang, why didn’t you stop it?”

Li Shimin himself was pondering the same question.

Later, he came to a conclusion: it was probably because he had already heard of the state of the Li Tang dynasty after his death.

His younger brother had already mocked him many times about the Kaiyuan Prosperity and the An-Shi Rebellion; naturally, he did not find it pleasant.

As for his son, A-Xuan was deliberately vague, only saying that “maintaining the inheritance” was fine, without giving specifics.

If A-Xuan could freely discuss the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms with him, but refused to talk about his own son, could it be that his son’s reign would bring about events more infuriating than the fall of the Tang?

Based on Li Shimin’s understanding of Li Xuanba, he confirmed his suspicion.

In short, the development of the Tang dynasty after his death would not be satisfactory. He did not like it.

Following the proper course, it would only amount to a Zhenguan-style governance. Even with his descendants, the Tang would last only three hundred years. Li Shimin believed that as long as he maintained control, even doing something unconventional would not be a big problem.

Moreover, Li Shimin hated the idea of his future being dictated by a path already set by others.

He did not want to walk the path that Li Xuanba had foreseen.

Even if the general direction was the same, Li Shimin wanted to carve a new way.

“A-Xuan did this precisely because he knew that. He knows I hate ‘fate’.”

After coming to this realization, Li Shimin chuckled.

“If the Tang is still strong, no one would dare—or could—compete with Tang for this sword. If the sword falls into someone else’s hands, it would mean Tang is near collapse. So, Second Brother, why worry?”

“The will of the people flows like the endless waters of a river. Using the official gazette to bind and harness it—doesn’t this alleviate your fear of public opinion?”

“By grasping this sword, we can also break free from the shackles of this era and tread a path different from the one I’ve foreseen.”

Buddhists and Daoists all knew that when the court decided to initiate this debate, it had already decided to suppress religion. Their debate was simply a struggle to secure space for survival during the coming “catastrophe.”

Sure enough, the court soon issued an edict, placing the construction of temples and the review of monks and nuns under official control. Private temple construction by civilians was no longer permitted.

The Sui dynasty’s policy of favoring temples was rescinded; ordinary monks were required to pay taxes and perform service. Only those granted management positions by the government—the “temple administrators”—enjoyed exemptions equivalent to officials.

Temples built in excess were demolished; monks and Daoists failing evaluation were forced to return to secular life. From then on, those with elderly parents to care for or young children to raise were prohibited from taking monastic vows; anyone taking vows without permission would be exiled.

Fang Qiao presented a policy he had discussed with Du Ruhui for half a year to the court for deliberation.

After repeated arguments, the court painstakingly finalized these policies point by point.

After showing the “sword” to Li Shimin, Li Xuanba resigned his position and did not participate in the subsequent policy-making.

He had reviewed the drafts proposed by Fang Qiao and Du Ruhui, which simply advanced the Tang dynasty’s later suppression policies on temples to the Zhenguan era—slightly more lenient than the statutes issued by Li Yuan in the ninth year of Wude.

By his nature, the laws originally issued by his father would have been more suitable. But the work was in the hands of the court officials; Second Brother was no longer his father. They could make their own decisions. He had set the ball rolling and could step away.

Temples and Daoist temples near the two capitals were cleared first, freeing up substantial storage space and increasing the number of citizens available for service.

During the farming off-season, Li Xuanba, for the first time, mobilized large-scale labor service.

He needed to reinforce the Yellow River embankments damaged during the wars and dredge its silted tributaries.

“Tell Third Sister to find a chance to provoke disputes among the steppe tribes, and have them send me more slaves.”

“Send a letter to Teacher Yuwen as well, asking him to negotiate with the King of Goguryeo. If the king doesn’t want me to bring the heavenly thunder and earthly fire to Goguryeo, at least send some convicts to help Tang dig the river channels.”

“As for Li Jing… isn’t Feng Ang negotiating disputes with rebellious tribal chiefs in Lingnan? Have him give Feng Ang a hand.”

After sending out the letters, Li Xuanba drove to Weizhou.

Fifty years later, a hydraulic expert named Jiang Shidu would be born there.

But in this era, most advanced knowledge was passed down through families. Li Xuanba believed that Jiang Shidu would be able to demonstrate a complete scientific understanding of hydraulic management as soon as he took office—he must have been influenced by his family.

Since Jiang Shidu could pass the imperial classics exam, his family must have had considerable wealth.

A wealthy family skilled in water management would naturally prioritize giving back to their hometown, which also served Li Xuanba’s own interests.

As Li Xuanba expected, shortly after arriving in Weizhou, he discovered a local sage skilled in water management—Jiang Cheng.

Historical records of Jiang Shidu are sparse; Li Xuanba did not know the exact relationship between Jiang Cheng and Jiang Shidu—family? close relative? It didn’t matter. He only needed to be certain this person could manage water.

Weizhou corresponds to later Hebei’s Wei County, located east of the Yellow River and west of the Ji River, an area historically prone to floods. Jiang Cheng’s ancestral water management skills were honed over generations battling the Yellow and Ji Rivers.

“When the world falls into chaos, the Yellow River embankments are often damaged. When heavy rain comes, breaches are inevitable. I hope you can assist Tang and lessen the future suffering of the people.”

Jiang Cheng met Li Xuanba’s gaze without fear: “Your Highness, the world has just been pacified. Mobilizing mass labor now is not wise.”

Li Xuanba smiled: “Tang will act according to its capacity. At least under my supervision, all the funds and grain allocated by the court will go directly into the hands of the laborers.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jiang Cheng clenched his teeth: “Very well. This humble man is willing to serve Your Highness like a dog or horse. I… I trust that Li Sanlang, a man of great virtue and expansive benevolence, will never harm or oppress the people!”

Li Xuanba’s eyelids twitched slightly.

“Virtuous, generous, and benevolent,” he muttered.

Thus, in the first year of the Zhenguan era, during the dry season of winter, the emperor ordered Prince Jin to take advantage of the low water levels to repair the Yellow River dikes.

The ministers advised against it, arguing that now was not the time to mobilize massive labor. While the Yellow River dikes were indeed important, it was more crucial for the people to rest and recuperate.

Li Shimin understood the implication behind their words.

The common people are ignorant. Even though repairing the Yellow River dikes is for their own good, they would still be displeased at the heavy labor.

But if a natural disaster were to destroy their homes, they would merely resign themselves to misfortune. In that case, the court would need to spend far less in resources than the cost of repairing the dikes to earn their gratitude.

For the Tang Dynasty as a whole, this kind of rest and recovery was actually a safer and more prudent strategy.

Thus, the emperor appreciated the ministers’ counsel—but did not heed it.