Chapter Forty-Three: Papermaking, Carriages, and Shifting Thoughts

As Liu Tan persisted, the pain in his body grew increasingly pronounced. Clearly, he would need to bathe with medicinal herbs again tomorrow. The prescription Zhao Yun had given him, according to Zhao Yun’s own words, could be discontinued once his body no longer ached. Now that his body was reacting again, the rose petal bath would have to wait.

After two hours of training, though he did not feel as debilitated as he had during his first couple of days, his whole body was nonetheless sore and aching. When he returned to the front courtyard, Empress Li and Lady Wang, accompanied by eunuchs, palace maids, and guards, were already bustling about.

“Your Majesty, allow me to accompany you for your bath. The water in the pot has just started to boil—it will be a while yet!” The Empress hurried to his side.

“Alright!” Liu Tan replied, grimacing as he walked. “Later, instruct someone to fetch the herbs listed on General Zhao’s prescription, prepare them, and from tomorrow onward, I shall resume bathing with them.”

The Empress frowned and asked, “Your Majesty, are you in pain again?”

Liu Tan nodded, “Tomorrow, I’ll leave the palace and seek out Uncle Zilong to ask him what’s going on.”

“You must indeed ask, Your Majesty. The imperial health is a matter of utmost importance; don’t let your training ruin you!” The Empress said solemnly.

After his bath, Liu Tan returned to the courtyard to find the pot boiling vigorously and a number of items set out that had not been there the day before: smooth, flat stone slabs laid across two tall stools, a thick, polished stone roller the same width and length as the stone slabs, and stone scrapers. Compared to wooden blocks, these would be much more effective.

Concerned that the Emperor might feel unwell, the Empress had ordered a chair and couch to be placed in a shaded spot in the courtyard, where Liu Tan took his seat. Lady Li and Lady Wang brought pastries and tea, serving him on either side.

Liu Tan called out, “Check if the bamboo shavings have been fully boiled.”

A guard quickly grabbed a piece of bamboo, split it open as the Emperor had done before, and bowed, “Your Majesty, they appear to be thoroughly boiled!”

Liu Tan nodded; this guard had helped him make toilet paper in previous days and had learned the method well.

“Then grind them with the stone roller. Grind everything once, and I’ll inspect it,” he said, taking a bite of pastry and a sip of tea.

He seemed to enjoy the blessings of a king, but in truth, it was not so simple. For an emperor to direct production under the blazing sun in the courtyard was rare indeed—he could not be allowed to go hungry! Thus, not a single eunuch, maid, or guard questioned his commands. When Liu Tan spoke, they acted at once.

All had experience from the prior attempt, and each followed the steps as before.

Liu Tan nodded in satisfaction. To be chosen as an imperial attendant, none were foolish; they could carry out the pulp-grinding process as they had previously. When the first round of grinding was finished, and Liu Tan had eaten and drunk his fill, a guard brought a wooden bucket filled with bamboo pulp for his inspection.

Liu Tan dipped his fingers in and said, “One more round of grinding should suffice.”

Toilet paper, even when made from soft poplar wood, required three rounds of grinding; but writing paper was different—two rounds were enough.

The group, now well-practiced, quickly completed the second round. Next came filtering: the bamboo pulp was spread onto the stone slab and leveled with the scraper.

From here, the process diverged from that of making toilet paper. If it were toilet paper, it would be finished by now. But writing paper required one final crucial step: after the pulp dried a bit, it would be pressed repeatedly with the stone roller to make it dense.

At this stage, the pulp was still too wet to be pressed—it needed to dry further.

He looked up; the sun was still high—it was just past noon. Liu Tan decided to leave the palace for a while to seek out Zhao Yun. He had been training for a long time, and the period of discomfort should have passed; he shouldn’t still be experiencing these symptoms. It was best to get to the bottom of it now. If he accidentally trained himself to death, what then?

He estimated the pulp would be ready for pressing by evening.

He turned to the three women, “I’m leaving the palace. Who will accompany me?”

“Your Majesty, I am willing to go!” All three replied in unison.

“Very well, let’s go together.”

With Liu Tan’s approval, the three were overjoyed. The Empress immediately called, “Prepare the carriage—no, prepare the chariot!”

The eunuchs and guards in the courtyard, not having had a chance to rest, sprang into action once more. Serving the Emperor was their true duty.

Although the Emperor rarely left the palace with such fanfare, he did have a vehicle—an exceptionally lavish one at that.

Upon leaving the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Liu Tan was stunned by the sight of the carriage before him.

He could hardly believe that a carriage could be made to this level. Though constructed of wood, it was painted a glossy black, with intricate carvings adorning its body. Wooden windows on either side were covered with silk as window screens, which appeared to be capable of opening. The roof, also wooden, resembled a small gabled structure, carved to look like individual tiles, with the corners curling upward like a miniature palace.

Liu Tan admitted it was much like the carriages he had seen Emperor Qin Shi Huang riding in historical dramas from his previous life, though this one was smaller. Qin Shi Huang’s touring carriage was drawn by eight horses; this one had only two.

A guard now placed a mounting stool before him. Liu Tan took a deep breath and stepped onto the chariot.

The front section of the chariot held a couch with a small table, while the rear half had two rows of soft seats on either side.

Liu Tan examined the space—it was larger than the SUVs of his previous life.

The Empress followed, and the two sat on opposite sides of the small table. Next came Lady Li and Lady Wang, who took their seats on the soft benches.

The chariot door closed, and Wang Li shouted, “Set out!”

With a crack of the whip, the chariot began to move.

Though the wooden wheels made the ride somewhat bumpy, Liu Tan guessed that this chariot was likely the best in Shu; compared with the vehicles of his previous life, this was the equivalent of a Mercedes or BMW—or perhaps even higher in rank.

And this was merely the emperor of Shu Han, tucked away in a remote corner.

If one day he could unite all the lands under heaven, perhaps he, too, could ride as Emperor Qin did, in a chariot drawn by eight horses.

That thought stirred his heart anew.

The emperor’s position—its dignity, its splendor!

In the two-thousand-year-long feudal history of China, the emperor was an object of reverence.

Just as he was now, though his power was weak, he was still the emperor and would surely possess the honor due him.

Moreover, he affirmed a fact: at this moment, even if Zhuge Liang wished to seize the throne, he would not necessarily succeed.

For he was the emperor, and the lingering prestige of Liu Bei still remained. Among the civil and military officials of Shu, there were many loyal to Liu Bei.

Just as Sima Yi, facing Emperor Cao Rui of Wei, still acted with caution.

The fundamental reason was that neither Zhuge Liang nor Sima Yi had achieved enough to rally the masses and depose the emperor in favor of themselves.

Besides, at this time, Zhuge Liang’s ambitions lay in the Central Plains; he surely hoped Liu Tan would make progress as well.

Reflecting on this, Liu Tan felt that while he still needed to act carefully and discreetly, he no longer felt the constant sense of danger that plagued him upon his arrival. He no longer believed that the palace and the land of Shu were filled with schemers intent on harming him, nor did he spend his days in anxious worry.

Clearly, his mindset needed further adjustment. He reckoned that, in the next few years, so long as he did not hinder Zhuge Liang’s northern campaigns, Zhuge Liang would continue to support him as always.