Chapter Fifty-Six: The Proposal

A faint smile played in Liu Tan’s heart before he reined in his wandering thoughts—there was serious business to attend to. Taking the dragon-gut spear from Wang Li, he said, “Uncle Zilong, let us begin.”

Zhao Yun nodded, received the spear from the emperor, and strode to the center of the courtyard. “Your Majesty, watch closely.”

With those words, he lowered his center of gravity, dropped into a horse stance, turned his body sideways, and thrust the long spear forward. Liu Tan observed carefully; the power behind the thrust came from the full coordination of Zhao Yun’s body. When the spear reached its limit, Zhao Yun swiftly drew it back!

Thrust, then retract. Again and again.

After several repetitions, Zhao Yun withdrew the spear and handed it back to Liu Tan. “Your Majesty, begin your training with this basic ‘thrust’ technique. In seven days, I shall instruct you in the next method.”

Taking the spear, Liu Tan imitated Zhao Yun’s movements quite decently, but then asked in confusion, “Uncle Zilong, this single thrust maneuver—I estimate I can grasp the essentials in a day and become proficient in two. Why would it take seven days?”

Zhao Yun shook his head and led Liu Tan to the edge of the courtyard, stopping before a large tree. “Your Majesty, try the technique against this tree.”

“What’s so difficult about that?” Liu Tan replied, then jabbed at the trunk.

The tree before him was as thick as a water barrel, so he easily landed the spear tip squarely on the trunk. A shower of withered leaves fluttered down from the force of the blow.

Zhao Yun spoke again, “Now, Your Majesty, try to strike the same spot again.”

“Very well.”

He tried again, but this time, Liu Tan was left staring in astonishment—the point where the spear struck had deviated from the first.

“Try again!” Unwilling to admit defeat, he focused all his attention, controlling the spear with all his strength, determined to hit the exact same point as before. Yet, despite his efforts, the tip landed elsewhere once more.

He tried several more times. Once, he almost overlapped the original mark, but he knew it was pure luck, not skill.

Then Zhao Yun took back the spear, switched places with Liu Tan, and thrust at the tree trunk.

Though Zhao Yun used little force, every time the spear landed, it struck precisely the same spot as Liu Tan’s first mark.

Only then did Liu Tan truly understand Zhao Yun’s intent—and the jaw-dropping level of control he commanded over the weapon.

“Uncle Zilong, I understand now! I will train diligently!” Liu Tan declared with solemn resolve.

“Then I shall take my leave,” Zhao Yun said, bidding farewell. Turning to his daughter, he added, “Come, let us not disturb His Majesty further.”

Zhao Xiaoyun—or rather, Zhao Teddy—glanced at the emperor. Seeing he made no move to stop her, she immediately followed her father, eager to escape. Whenever she encountered the emperor, she seemed to suffer some loss. She resolved never to bet with him again, not even if her life depended on it!

Just as they reached the gate, the emperor’s voice called out.

“Teddy, train well. In seven days, I’ll see how much you’ve improved.”

Zhao Teddy hurried past her father and bolted out of the courtyard.

Liu Tan smiled and returned to thrusting at the air, pitting his wits against the invisible foe before him.

After a while, the empress and her two companions entered the courtyard. During a break, Liu Tan asked Lady Wang, “Have you made any headway with your papermaking proposal?”

Lady Wang lifted her brows. “Your Majesty, the three of us have been pondering this day and night, and have written a great deal. As you requested, the proposal is nearly complete. Please review it at your convenience.”

Seated at the table, Liu Tan took the stack of papers the three women handed him and read it closely.

This stack was made from the paper they had recently produced, all of which Liu Tan had directed them to use for the proposal.

Per his instructions, the document covered many aspects: the advantages of paper, methods to improve papermaking, the concept of establishing a research and development department, the initial investment required for a paper mill, the necessary funds, site selection recommendations, and more.

All these topics were things Liu Tan had often discussed in their presence, and the women had carefully noted them, recording each in the proposal.

Liu Tan read the proposal thoroughly, making corrections and detailed improvements wherever he saw fit.

“This will do,” he said at last, pulling one of the few remaining sheets from the pile. On it, he wrote an official patent approval and affixed the imperial seal.

Since the Eastern Bureau had yet to be formally established, all patent applications, reviews, and approvals were handled by Liu Tan himself, in his own hand and with his own seal.

In the future, once the Eastern Bureau was up and running, such matters could be delegated to them—and a department could be established outside the palace, gradually expanding nationwide.

Placing the patent approval at the front of the proposal, Liu Tan instructed, “Bind it with thread as I said, and soak it in oil! This is the world’s very first formal proposal! If it survives for a thousand years, it will surely become a national treasure!”

“What?” The three empresses’ eyes sparkled—was the emperor about to deliver another grand pronouncement? They resolved to commit every word to memory.

Liu Tan paid them no further heed. Now, all that remained was to see how the Wang family would respond. If the Wang family agreed, it would mean he could make real progress—yes, progress toward wealth!

He was confident the Wang family would have no reason to refuse, especially given the contract regarding the formation of a company.

Ordinary people might not understand the significance of such a contract, but Liu Tan was sure that Wang Wanzi, with his vast business acumen, would instantly see the enormous benefits it would bring to his family.

For now, Liu Tan stopped his experiments and awaited the Wang family’s reply. Once the company and research department were established, he would leave further research and development to them.

It was time to turn his attention to reforming the imperial guards.

In these chaotic times, his guards must be able to both defend the palace and fight on the battlefield.

Unable to take control of the army in the short term, he would have to train his own force from scratch.

To truly seize command, he needed every soldier to believe that following him promised a bright future.

This mattered greatly. That “future” came in many forms: on the grand scale, there was the sense of duty in serving the emperor and the glory of expanding the realm—achieving distinction and building a name for oneself. On a more practical level, it meant every soldier could see a path forward—promotion, higher pay to feed their families, the prospect of wealth and advancement.

Right now, however, to achieve glory and distinction required following Chancellor Zhuge Liang. Anyone with sense would see that serving this emperor offered little hope of advancement.

Therefore, Liu Tan’s only option was to focus first on the tangible benefits—promotion and prosperity.