Chapter One: The Emperor’s Grace

Time flowed swiftly by, and in the blink of an eye, nearly half a year had passed.

During this half-year, three major events transpired in the Tang Empire.

In the second month, the Left Chancellor Niu Xianke passed away at home, leaving the position vacant. The present Son of Heaven decreed that Li Shizhi, a member of the imperial clan, would succeed as Left Chancellor, concurrently holding the offices of Minister of Personnel, Senior Pillar of State, and ennobled as the founding Duke of Weiyuan County. Li Shizhi was astute and capable, truly possessing the talent for a chancellor, yet he was at odds with the Right Chancellor Li Linfu. The two could hardly see eye to eye, and thus the court found itself in a state of fierce rivalry, with the two chancellors vying for power, their enmity irreconcilable.

In the third month, Yang Yuhuan, consort to the eighteenth prince, Prince of Shou—Li Mao—willingly took religious vows, adopting the Daoist name Taizhen, in order to pray for the soul of Dowager Empress Dou, who had long since passed away. A great beauty, abandoning her position as a royal consort to become a Daoist nun—why would she do such a thing? Many knew the answer, yet none dared to speak it aloud.

In the fourth month, the Tibetan forces amassed an army of one hundred thousand, garrisoning the strategic fortress of Shibao City in Longyou, with clear intentions of invading the Hexi Corridor. The news reached Chang’an, sending shockwaves through the court and the public!

Xingqing Palace, situated in the eastern quarter of Chang’an, was originally the princely residence of the present emperor Li Longji before his ascension. Later, it was expanded into a grand complex of palaces and became the official seat of imperial governance, hosting all major ceremonies such as the declaration of new eras, the imperial examination, and general amnesties.

Within the Diligence Hall of Xingqing Palace, Li Longji sat high upon the dragon throne, imperial brush in hand, absorbed in reviewing memorials for a full two hours. Since ascending to the throne at the age of twenty-seven, thirty-one years had passed. For thirty-one years, he had toiled ceaselessly, governing with diligence and caution, never daring to relax for a moment. With the assistance of wise ministers such as Yao Chong, Song Jing, and Zhang Jiuling, he had established the prosperous era of Kaiyuan: the treasury was full, commerce flourished, culture thrived… The population of the empire exceeded eight million households, totaling more than seventy million men, women, and children. Arable land spanned 8.5 million hectares, and the granaries held twelve million shi of grain.

“The Great Tang under my rule is truly at its zenith. The achievements I have founded, though I dare not compare them to those of Emperor Taizong, far surpass those of most other sovereigns. With national strength so robust, should I not allow myself a brief respite?” After all, at fifty-eight years of age, Li Longji’s energy and stamina were no longer what they once had been. Having reviewed memorials for two hours straight, he began to feel fatigued.

He set aside the imperial brush, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the dragon throne to rest, soon drifting off into gentle snores.

But he had scarcely rested a moment before a figure quietly approached the throne, holding a thick stack of memorials. The newcomer set down the documents, picked up a bright yellow blanket, and gently draped it over Li Longji, then stood quietly by his side.

Since the founding of the Tang, palace coups had been frequent, and more than a few emperors or would-be emperors had met mysterious ends. Thus, to approach the emperor during his rest, and especially to touch the imperial person, was a grave taboo in the palace—one careless act could result in a charge of attempted regicide, a crime punishable by execution and extermination of one’s entire clan.

Yet within the vast palace, there was but one person, aside from a few favored consorts, who dared to break this taboo and remain unscathed—Gao Lishi.

His full title was: General of the Right Guard, Duke of Bohai, Grand Chamberlain of the Imperial Household—Gao Lishi, the most trusted confidant of the present emperor, Li Longji—without equal.

Moments later, Li Longji awoke, his eyes falling immediately upon the newly delivered memorials. “Lishi, where are these from?”

“Your Majesty, they are military reports from Longyou.”

“Oh? Bring them here at once!”

Military intelligence brooked no delay. Li Longji roused himself, took the memorials, and read them carefully, his expression quickly turning grave.

The reports stated that after the Tibetan army had occupied Shibao City, they were both fortifying the walls and amassing vast stores of provisions and military supplies. Meanwhile, they dispatched cavalry scouts to reconnoiter Tang territory, probing for vulnerabilities in the defenses, and sent envoys to make frequent contact with the Tangut, Tuyuhun, and Turkic tribes. Their intention to invade was now clear for all to see.

Having read the reports, Li Longji recalled a matter from half a year earlier. Marquis Qi, Cui Zongzhi, had submitted a memorial warning of imminent Tibetan invasion and recommending that the court increase troops in Longyou as a precaution. His reasoning had been based on an observation regarding barley wine.

He and a dozen senior ministers had discussed the matter, but the consensus was that, as there had been no major conflicts with Tibet for over twenty years, and the Longyou region remained peaceful, talk of invasion was mere groundless worry.

Now, it seemed Cui Zongzhi had indeed possessed foresight.

“Lishi, summon Prince Consort Cui at once—I wish to discuss border defenses with him!”

“Your servant obeys!”

When the emperor summoned, it was as if a divine edict had descended—no matter the circumstances, one must appear. Even if in the midst of wedding festivities, one must don their robes and report at once.

Before long, Cui Zongzhi, breathing heavily, arrived at the Diligence Hall and, following protocol, performed three kneelings and nine kowtows. “Your subject Cui Zongzhi pays respects to Your Majesty, and wishes you health and long life.”

“Cat Slave, rise and take a seat!”

“Your subject thanks Your Majesty!”

Li Longji and Cui Zongzhi were not only sovereign and subject, but also father-in-law and son-in-law. Thus, the emperor addressed him by his childhood nickname, a sign of intimacy.

“Cat Slave, you alone had foresight. The reports from Longyou confirm that the Tibetans are about to invade in force—a pack of wolves, truly. What I do not understand is—how did you foresee this half a year ago?”

“Thank you for Your Majesty’s praise, but my own intelligence is limited; I dare not take credit for foresight. In truth, it was a friend of mine who predicted the Tibetan invasion.”

“Oh, a friend of yours?”

“Yes indeed. My friend’s name is Li Zhao. He is sixteen years old, an idle scion of the imperial clan—by lineage, he is of the same generation as Your Majesty’s nephews and nieces. He currently resides at Qianlong Ridge in Wu’an County. He is gifted and erudite, a true prodigy of youth!”

Cui Zongzhi proceeded to recount how he had met Li Zhao while traveling in Wu’an County half a year earlier, lavishing praise upon him. He also relayed, word for word, the three clever strategies Li Zhao had devised to counter the Tibetans.

“Excellent! Excellent! Excellent! I never imagined such a prodigy would emerge from among the imperial clan!” Li Longji repeated the word “excellent” three times, the clouds of worry on his brow much diminished. The three strategies were indeed ingenious—if implemented, they would be enough to tie the hands of the Tibetans for some time, preventing rash action and giving the Tang time to mobilize and respond at leisure.

One who offers wise counsel deserves reward. But what reward would be fitting?

He had an idea.

“This Li Zhao is truly clever—to be able to predict a Tibetan invasion from a bowl of barley wine alone. He is a talent worth cultivating. I intend to send him to the Imperial Academy for further study, so that he may later take the imperial examination and enter government service. What do you think?”

For a hundred generations, education had been the cornerstone of the nation’s future. Every dynasty of China had placed great emphasis on learning—the Han established the Imperial Academy, Wei and Jin had the National Academy, and the Sui founded the Imperial College—all institutions for cultivating high-level talent.

The Tang, following the Sui precedent, had established the Imperial College in Chang’an, later renamed the Imperial Academy, the highest educational institution in the empire. It produced a wealth of talent for the state—since the reigns of the Zhongzong and Ruizong emperors, seven or eight out of every ten newly minted scholars came from the Imperial Academy.

To put it plainly, admission to the Imperial Academy was a step onto the path of officialdom—one’s worth would multiply overnight. For Li Zhao, this was a considerable reward.

It is worth noting that since the Sui dynasty established the imperial examination, little more than a century had passed. The system was still far from perfect, and each year only thirty or forty candidates were selected as new scholars. Among Tang officials, only about one or two in ten had come through the exam system.

“Your Majesty, please hold your decree. My friend is exceptionally gifted and adept at practical affairs; he is not a mere bookworm content with literary exercises. If the court wishes to employ him, it would be better to have him join the Ministry of Personnel’s selection for worthy talents—he must not, by any means, be sent to the Imperial Academy!” Although their acquaintance was brief, Cui Zongzhi knew Li Zhao well. Outwardly humble and courteous, harmless as he seemed, there was an untamed wildness in his nature.

He could not abide constraint. If he were sent to the Imperial Academy, he would surely feign illness and refuse to attend, imperial edict or not.

In that case, it would be better to have him enter government directly and do some real service for the country.

In the current Tang dynasty, aside from the exam system, another path to officialdom was through recommendation. This “recommendation system” was akin to the “Filial and Incorrupt” system of the Han, whereby prominent individuals or high-ranking officials recommended men of talent and virtue to the court. The state would then assemble these men, have the Ministry of Personnel examine them, and appoint those with the best results to office.

At times, the emperor himself would personally evaluate these recommended talents. For example, in the fifth year of the Zhenguan era, Emperor Taizong ordered his officials to write essays on current affairs. General Chang He of the Right Martial Guard, being a man of arms and not of letters, was so anxious he lost great handfuls of hair. His retainer, Ma Zhou, wrote an excellent essay for him. Taizong was delighted, but knowing Chang He was illiterate, asked who had written it. Chang He confessed and highly recommended Ma Zhou. After a single meeting, Taizong recognized his talent and immediately appointed him to high office—it was a meteoric rise!

As mentioned, only a small fraction of Tang officials came through the examination system; the vast majority—eight or nine out of ten—were products of the recommendation system. This was the main path to office in the Tang.

“To have him take the Ministry of Personnel’s selection for worthies… But this Li Zhao is only sixteen. Even with such rare talent, is it not too soon for him to enter officialdom?”

“Your Majesty, ambition is not measured by age; without ambition, one may live a hundred years in vain. True prodigies cannot be judged by years—Ganm Luo and Huo Qubing are the best examples.” Cui Zongzhi cited two historical figures: Gan Luo, who became High Minister of Qin at twelve during the Warring States; Huo Qubing of the Western Han, who at seventeen was appointed Cavalry Captain, led eight hundred horsemen hundreds of miles to strike down the Xiongnu Chanyu’s grandfather, prime minister, and household officials, killing over two thousand. At nineteen he became General of the Cavalry, led the army to open the Hexi Corridor and destroyed forty thousand enemies. At twenty-two, he was promoted to Grand Marshal, took part in the decisive battle north of the desert, advanced over two thousand miles and destroyed seventy thousand enemies, sealing his name in history.

In Cui Zongzhi’s view, Li Zhao’s future achievements would be no less than Huo Qubing’s—perhaps even greater.

“Very well. On the tenth of next month, the Ministry of Personnel will be holding an examination for worthy candidates. Let Li Zhao participate. I, too, wish to see if this youth possesses true talent or is merely good at empty talk.” After a moment’s thought, Li Longji nodded in agreement.

Soon, an official summons was dispatched from the Ministry of Personnel, carried by couriers on swift horses, making haste toward Wu’an County.