Chapter 21: Before the Storm (Seeking Votes for Recommendation)

In the Hall of Benevolence and Virtue, the flickering candlelight cast shadows that danced like phantoms. Eunuch Chen stood hunched, hands hanging at his sides, positioned discreetly to one side. Before him sat Emperor Zhao Xu of the Great Song dynasty, accompanied by the Censor-in-Chief overseeing all officials. Opposite them was Chancellor Wang Anshi.

Wang Anshi held several sheets of freshly printed block-printed paper, the ink still vivid though the pages were somewhat creased.

His chest rose and fell heavily; his gaze was penetrating, knuckles whitening as he gripped the papers.

Censor-in-Chief Sima Guang appeared calmer, his attention fixed on Emperor Zhao Xu’s face, for the emperor’s command was the directive guiding all action.

Zhao Xu’s expression was stern and unreadable, devoid of emotion. Perhaps it was the late hour that wearied him, or perhaps the burden of emperorship demanded such stoicism.

“Speak plainly. How shall we proceed? And what exactly does this Li Changan intend?” the emperor asked.

The two chancellors exchanged a glance; Sima Guang inclined his head slightly.

Wang Anshi understood this was not the moment for summing up; the Prime Minister’s word would be final.

It was a dilemma. If he spoke too harshly, how would the national debt be managed? Too lightly, and it would be absurd to openly promote a ‘dragon-slaying technique.’

Bowing slightly, he steadied a chair and rose, handing the printed drafts to Eunuch Chen.

To the emperor, he offered a slight bow. “Your Majesty, the youth is reckless and disrespectful. I suggest issuing a formal reprimand. Since he possesses some talent, entrust him to Lü Huiqing for guidance within the Three Departments. With proper honing, he may yet become a valuable asset.”

The national debt was tied to his new policies. This insolent youth could not be allowed to act freely; better to keep him leashed.

Wang Anshi expected Sima Guang to agree, but to his surprise, Sima Guang also rose.

“I have something to add,” Sima Guang said. “On the day I accompanied my son to investigate Li Changan, I encountered five members of the Qian family of Wuyue, all distinguished talents of Wu Prefecture. A month ago, I received a letter from the student Qian Weiming, inviting me to the capital to solve a difficult problem.”

“Oh?” Emperor Zhao Xu showed a flicker of interest.

“Is the rise and fall of dynasties truly inevitable?”

Wang Anshi wished to avoid digressions; if Li Changan were imprisoned or exiled, who else would offer counsel on the national debt? His suggestion was to gamble on Li Changan’s possible subsequent brilliance.

“Hmm...” Wang Anshi cleared his throat. “Minister Sima, please be concise. Shall we act tonight, or hold back?”

Ignoring the question, Sima Guang continued, “Throughout history, countless sages have sought to unravel this mystery. The Han dynasty endured four centuries, the Tang dynasty two centuries of glory. What of our Song? Do you not wish to know the cause of decline?

“From the moment we learn to read and write, teachers instruct us to emulate the sages Yao and Shun, to usher in a golden age. Life spans but fifty years; if I cannot find the answer, let this essay be the preface to the ‘Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government.’”

Wang Anshi cast a sidelong glance, inwardly sighing at the endless rambling.

Just then, the emperor spoke.

“One essay?” Zhao Xu turned his gaze upward to the pitch-black ceiling, where nothing appeared. No heaven, no ancestors, no gods or spirits.

Many nights alone, he had faced this darkness with fear. Being emperor was like being blind—unable to see anything.

History flowed onward, carrying the ambitions of kings and wisdom of heroes. Yet in the Six Histories, there was no definitive commentary on how to restore a dynasty.

Well, if these two trusted ministers deemed this no great trouble, then he might as well be magnanimous.

“Wait a little longer. In two days, I shall hear this out myself. I want to discover why dynasties cannot endure...”

Since none believed Li Changan to be a rebel, they would watch his words and actions.

The next morning, Li Changan rose early for exercise.

Kaifeng was only truly cool in the early morning and evening.

After a silent broadcast calisthenics session, he strolled through the garden corridor toward the Moon Gate connecting to the east courtyard, where he heard someone muttering.

“In Qinzhou, the yield per mu is one shi and three dou, with...”

Turning, he saw Qian Weiming rehearsing a speech.

“Hey, you’re just reading your script? Don’t put everyone to sleep!”

“Go wander elsewhere! You want me to speak? You wrote it; what choice do I have but to memorize it?”

Li Changan sat on a flowerbed opposite, occasionally offering Qian Weiming prompts to smooth his delivery.

It wasn’t a thesis defense, after all. No need to be so nervous.

He recalled the time he faced an Indian and two Singaporean Chinese, conducting the entire conversation in English, nearly leaving them dumbfounded.

They were just a bunch of guild and merchant bosses—ignorant folk from ancient times.

After a while, he sensed something amiss. Qian Weiming was over-explaining. If he covered every detail, two hours wouldn’t suffice.

“Stop, stop! We’ve written the essay. This is just a presentation of ideas. Why recite all those arguments?

“Remember how Su Shi boasted? Just be like that!”

Qian Weiming thought bitterly, “Thanks for the comparison to Su Xue-shi,” though both he and Wang Anshi were like demons, while he was just an ordinary man.

If he didn’t memorize everything, the ensuing questions would be mortifying.

Better to move only when the enemy does not; if provoked, avoid confrontation. Time to leave!

After resting, Li Changan went to the washroom, then changed into Middle Eastern attire, resembling Aladdin, before entering the classroom.

Talent always comes first, damn it.

Though a prodigy from Jiangdong, he was prone to overthinking; after so many days, still no enlightenment.

His entrance sparked whispers. The outfit was peculiar—neither pants nor skirt, neither clearly male nor female. The bleached linen shirt resembled a woman’s cloak.

Mandy was unfazed, secretly giving him two thumbs up.

“Class, stop whispering! What’s so curious about clothing? Our China has always practiced ‘pragmatic adoption.’ From the Zhou kings to King Wuling of Zhao, to the spread of Buddhism—we’ve always embraced foreign things. Today, we’ll try a new teaching method: you ask, I answer. No more just formulas.”

As nobles from Jiangdong, once even the teacher chastised them, the students settled.

“I’ve said before: mathematics is merely a tool for solving problems. To understand the mysteries of the world, to see through the essence of things, you need a set of tools to penetrate the surface and reveal inner structures. Want to know why Zhan Prefecture harvests thrice yearly, but Hebei only twice? You need math.

“Mandy, tell me—why do planting seasons for rice or wheat vary by region?”

Mandy, distracted by the buckle on Li Changan’s belt, blushed when called upon.

Why do wheat planting seasons differ?

Wheat has ripened for millennia—who the hell knows why?

In Jerusalem, wheat grows twice yearly. He probably would never taste that again.

“Good. No shame if you don’t know now; you’ll learn later. What I want to say is that the wheat growth cycle is closely linked to sunlight, that is, the total heat accumulated.”

He rambled a bit, explaining some botanical basics.

“If you understand math, you can precisely calculate frost-free periods, annual heat sums, and heat-rain synchronization.”

“Thus, even if you don’t know agriculture, you can judge whether farming in a region is rational.”

Mandy’s eyes sparkled, though she found the lesson difficult and felt sleepy, utterly lost.

Just as she felt herself fading, as if summoned by the heavens to cross the Rainbow Bridge, a child’s voice sounded outside.

“Uncle! Uncle! The long-faced uncle! I, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, am back!”