Chapter Twelve: The Left Chancellor’s Solution

Second, it is common among unscrupulous merchants to collect large quantities of copper coins, melt them down, and recast them into copperware for profit. The court should issue a decree: anyone found destroying coins to smelt copper shall be beheaded and their head displayed as a warning to others.

Third, it is customary among the people to bury the dead with gold, silver, and copper. Legislation should prohibit such lavish burials and instead promote frugality.

Fourth, when our Great Tang trades with Silla, Baekje, Goguryeo, Tubo, and Nanzhao, we should practice barter as much as possible to reduce the outflow of coinage.

…

Li Shizhi spoke for over an hour, presenting more than a dozen methods to alleviate the money shortage. No one interrupted; everyone listened quietly, calculating and even secretly taking notes.

All present were men of intelligence and recognized that Li Shizhi’s methods surpassed those of Li Linfu in wisdom and practicality. If there was any flaw, it was that these measures addressed the symptoms, not the root cause—they could only temporarily ease the crisis but not resolve it entirely.

Yet, given the circumstances, these were the best possible solutions. After all, the Tang realm was poor in gold, silver, and copper mines. To solve the problem fundamentally, one would have to discover more mineral resources and mint coins on a large scale!

On the dragon couch, Emperor Xuanzong nodded repeatedly, clearly satisfied, then turned his gaze to Li Linfu. “Right Chancellor, what do you think of the Left Chancellor’s proposals?”

“Your Majesty, the Left Chancellor’s methods are both practical and beneficial to the state and the people—indeed, far superior to my own. I wholeheartedly support them.”

“Very well. In that case, I will entrust all matters concerning the relief of the money shortage to the Left Chancellor, who will have full authority. The officials of the Three Departments and Six Ministries shall cooperate closely and make no errors.”

“We obey your command!”

With a single decree, Emperor Xuanzong entrusted all power to Li Shizhi, and none of the other top ministers objected.

Even the Right Chancellor, Li Linfu, smiled and voiced his support, appearing magnanimous. Yet deep in his eyes, a cold glint flickered.

It must be understood that the Tang dynasty implemented the system of Three Departments and Six Ministries: the Secretariat drafted decrees, the Chancellery reviewed them, and the Department of State Affairs carried them out. The three balanced each other, creating a true separation of powers.

The head of the Secretariat, known as the Chancellor, was Li Linfu—also called the Right Chancellor.

The Chancellery was headed by the Grand Minister, Li Shizhi—the Left Chancellor.

The Department of State Affairs’ chief position, the Minister of State, was special. During the reign of Emperor Gaozu, Prince Qin (Li Shimin) once held this post, and after he became emperor, it was left vacant—no official dared assume it, lest they be accused of overstepping.

Thus, the department’s affairs were managed by the Deputy Minister of State, a role also held by Li Linfu.

In other words, Li Linfu alone controlled both the Secretariat and the Department of State Affairs, making him the most powerful minister at court, overseeing all major and minor matters.

Now, however, the emperor had given the power to resolve the money crisis to Li Shizhi and ordered the officials of the Three Departments and Six Ministries to cooperate. Where did that leave Li Linfu?

If Li Shizhi succeeded and achieved great merit, would the position of chief minister still belong to Li Linfu?

“As long as I remain, I will make every step for you difficult, every matter fail, until you are forced to leave the court in disgrace.” Li Linfu secretly resolved to defend his power at all costs.

Yet, Li Linfu was puzzled. He had known Li Shizhi for many years and knew him to be bold but lacking in subtlety, with wisdom, cunning, and skill far inferior to his own. In the past, he had always pressed Li Shizhi down in every court meeting.

How was it that after only a few days, Li Shizhi had suddenly become so clever, devising so many brilliant policies?

Could it be that someone was advising him from behind the scenes? Who could it be?

It seemed he would have to investigate thoroughly.

…

After the meeting, the other ministers departed, leaving only the Left Chancellor, Li Shizhi, who needed to report on the selection examination.

“Left Chancellor, I hear that during this year’s examination, there occurred an extraordinary marvel—a young candidate, brimming with knowledge and able to compose poetry in seven steps, even surpassing Cao Zhi. Is this true?”

“Your Majesty, it is. The youth’s name is Li Zhao, a member of the imperial clan and the fourth-generation descendant of Prince Wu. By our Tang genealogy, he is one of Your Majesty’s nephews.”

“Haha, if he is my nephew, he is yours as well! Who would have thought such a prodigy would emerge from the imperial clan—fascinating, fascinating!”

Emperor Xuanzong was the grandson of Emperor Gaozong, Li Zhi; Li Shizhi was the grandson of the deposed Crown Prince, Li Chengqian. Both belonged to the line of Emperor Taizong and were closely related as kinsmen.

By contrast, though Li Linfu was also of imperial blood, his lineage was much more distant—he was the fourth-generation descendant of Prince Xun, Li Yi, the sixth uncle of Emperor Gaozu, Li Yuan. This distant relation was one reason for Li Linfu’s jealousy of Li Shizhi.

The emergence of a poet among the imperial clan naturally pleased Xuanzong, though not excessively—talent in verse did not equate to skill in governance, and the empire needed administrators, not poets.

“Left Chancellor, among the recommended candidates this year, are there any who truly stand out? The affairs of state are pressing, and I am in dire need of talented men to govern; the more, the better!”

“Your Majesty, I have indeed discovered a remarkable talent. His exam answers are clear, substantial, and full of excellent advice for governing the realm. I’ve read them a dozen times and benefited greatly.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Yes, in fact, the solutions I presented today for the money shortage were adapted from this candidate’s answers.”

As he spoke, Li Shizhi placed ten exam papers on the imperial desk, indicating the one on top.

Emperor Xuanzong examined it closely and was immediately struck by the neat and graceful calligraphy—vivid and fluid, clearly the result of diligent practice.

It is said that a person’s character is reflected in their handwriting; one who writes so elegantly must be a refined and cultured soul.

The answers to the classics and the essay questions were flawless, with clear insights and profound literary skill.

Then came the poem:

In the vast desert, the sand is like snow,
Over Yan Mountains, the moon hangs like a hook.
When will the golden bridle arrive,
So I may gallop swiftly through the crisp autumn?

The first two lines paint a scene, the latter two express deep emotion. The scenery is imagined, but the sentiment is sincere; together, they vividly convey the author’s yearning to display his talent and achieve merit on the frontier—a truly outstanding composition.

Finally, the policy essay. Emperor Xuanzong read it three times and understood Li Shizhi’s earlier implication: the solutions for the money shortage all came from this very paper.

What manner of person could possess such talent and vision?

On the paper, the candidate’s name, background, and place of origin were covered by a slip of paper—a rule set by Empress Wu to prevent favoritism among examiners.

Lifting the seal, a line of words appeared: Li Zhao—Fourth-generation descendant of Prince Wu—Native of Wuan County, Jingzhao.

Li Zhao!

Again, Li Zhao!

Xuanzong and Li Shizhi exchanged astonished, delighted glances.

A prodigy who could compose poetry in seven steps was already impressive.

But one who understood the art of governing the state—this was something entirely different.

And if such a prodigy belonged to the imperial clan, it was all the more extraordinary.

During Empress Wu’s reign, to consolidate her power, she did not hesitate to massacre the Tang imperial clan; the descendants of Emperors Gaozu and Taizong were nearly exterminated (thirteen close relatives killed, forty-two branches destroyed).

Thus, since the reigns of the Zhongzong and Ruizong emperors, the status of imperial clan members had been steadily elevated, and talents among them carefully cultivated and promoted, to strengthen the dynasty and prevent another usurpation by an outsider.

Li Linfu and Li Shizhi, both members of the imperial clan, serving as Left and Right Chancellors, were living proof of this policy.

However, while the number of younger imperial clan members steadily increased, their quality declined—they knew only how to indulge in pleasure and dissipation, and not a single promising talent could be found, no matter how diligently they were nurtured. This had long vexed Emperor Xuanzong.

Now, at last, a prodigy had emerged among the imperial kin. With proper cultivation, his future achievements would rival those of Li Linfu and Li Shizhi, and he could become a pillar of the court.

Even better, Li Zhao was only sixteen; he had decades of life ahead, enough to serve and support two or three reigns.

With this in mind, Xuanzong was overjoyed.

“Such a talent must be seen. I wish to meet him and discuss statecraft—there is no doubt I will benefit greatly.”

“That is easily accomplished, Your Majesty. Simply summon Li Zhao to the palace for an audience.”

“No. I wish to meet him in disguise, privately and outside the palace. Otherwise, I fear I will not hear true counsel, but only words of flattery and sycophancy! Haha!”

Unlike those emperors who were born in the deep palace, raised by women, and ascended the throne without adversity, Xuanzong had experienced hardship from childhood and seized the throne with his own wisdom and courage, surviving countless perils.

His rich experience had taught him well the dangers of flattery and deception, and the tendency of courtiers to say only what the emperor wished to hear.

Therefore, if he wished to hear the truth, he had to set aside his imperial robes and walk among the people.

“Lishi, tell the 'Cat Slave' that I have not had a cockfight with him in a long time. Tomorrow at Qujiang Pool, we shall compete, and he should bring Li Zhao along—I wish to meet this prodigy. Also, bring Consort Mei, let her leave the palace for a breath of fresh air!”

“Your old servant obeys!”