Chapter Thirty-Three: Heavy Responsibilities and a Long Road Ahead—The Illusory Phoenix and the True Phoenix
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“Greetings, Your—” Hu Ying was about to bow in salute when Li Wei quickly stepped forward, held him up, and gestured with a “shh,” stopping him from speaking.
Hu Ying immediately realized his mistake. The crown prince had come in plain clothes, so he stood upright with care, glanced over, and his mouth opened in surprise.
He was a shrewd businessman, far from ordinary, with an excellent memory. He remembered seeing them in the tavern before, even though they hadn’t spoken. The aura of this group had left a deep impression on him.
“I spoke nonsense last time—”
“Let’s forget it, no need to mention it. Sit.”
Hu Ying carefully sat down, feeling even more uneasy. The crown prince was known for his strict adherence to etiquette. Last time, he, Yu Langjun, and Lu Ma had spoken many crude words. He tried again, “About last time—”
“Let’s forget it. I’ve come to discuss important business with you.”
Li Wei’s voice was soft, to avoid attracting attention. He had chosen a secluded corner by the window; a tall peach tree outside sent a spray of blossoms through the open window, their fragrance rich and intoxicating.
He inhaled the scent of peach flowers and said, “I’ve heard you own two sea vessels?”
He was genuinely curious.
“Your Highness,” Hu Ying addressed him quietly, then explained, “I purchased those two ships from the Arabs. The Arabs are skilled merchants. After learning about our Great Tang from the Persians, besides trading along the Silk Road, in recent years they ride the autumn winds to the southern seas and, using the monsoon, sail to Guangzhou. Once the transaction is complete, they return westward on the prevailing northeast winds, a journey that takes a year and a half. Their ships carry large loads; some can hold over a thousand shih of goods, yielding considerable profit. Yet the risks at sea are great. One of my nephews met with disaster and never returned.”
Nearly two thousand shih—that’s several hundred, even up to a thousand tons. Records from the Ministry of Revenue had documented riverboats of similar size in the lower Yangtze. Later generations spoke of enormous ships, twenty thousand shih, Zheng He’s fleets over ten thousand tons, though that seemed unlikely; research revealed that wooden ships’ maximum safe carrying capacity was two thousand tons. Hu Ying’s figures seemed more reliable.
“Can you tell me about the Arabs, Persians, and the Byzantine Empire?”
“I dare not disobey. Persia was once powerful, having allied with the Turks to destroy the Yada Kingdom. Soon after, the Turks turned on Persia, killed Emperor Khosrow, and installed his son Shahrbaraz as a puppet. Shahrbaraz died within a year, and Khosrow’s daughter was crowned. The Persians rebelled, bringing Shahrbaraz’s son, Shahrvaraz, from Byzantium to rule. He died within two years, and his nephew Yazdegerd III was enthroned. Yazdegerd was inept and was overthrown by the Arabs. His son, Piruz, sent envoys to our Tang Dynasty seeking help, but the journey was long, and the emperor declined. Later, Tokharistan deployed troops, bringing Piruz to Jiling City. Ten years ago, under threat from the Arabs, remnants of Persia and other nations sought refuge in Tang, and the court established eight governorates. The Persian Governorate was set in Jiling City.”
Li Wei now understood: the Tang Dynasty had gained only the remnants’ territory, not the whole of Persia.
“Persians favor elephants in battle, whereas the Arabs prefer horses and camels. Elephants are mighty but unwieldy; in combat, the Arabs’ camel and cavalry units are more effective. West of Arabia lies a great sea, with kingdoms on both shores. The Arabs, adept shipbuilders, have begun expanding westward by stationing troops on ships. But I have only traveled as far as Jiling City; my ships are sent by relatives to Guangzhou. Some Arabs, enamored of Tang’s prosperity, settle in Guangzhou, and I purchased from them. Thus, I am not well versed in Arab affairs. The Byzantine Empire is even farther. I met some Byzantines in Jiling City: they wore long robes without open collars, and not only their dress but their manners and speech differed greatly from us. I hear they like to build stone fortresses as their cities.”
Li Wei was tempted to ask whether the Byzantines were really as hairy as monkeys, but he restrained himself.
Hu Ying finished speaking and looked nervously at Li Wei.
Li Wei asked, “Have you heard of Zhang Qian?”
“The Marquis of Bowang, yes, I have.”
“That’s right. Grapes, alfalfa, pomegranates, walnuts, sesame—all were brought by Marquis Zhang from the Western Regions and India. Though foreign lands lack refinement, we cannot deny their merits. By adopting their strengths, we remedy our weaknesses, and Tang will flourish all the more.”
“Indeed,” Hu Ying replied. He understood that today’s meeting was not a lesson in politics.
“Emperor Taizong once decreed that sugar-making techniques be brought from India. Foreigners offer crops and skills Tang needs, such as the Arabs’ medicine jade and Damascus steel, both superior to ours.”
“But overall, our Tang civilization remains the most advanced.”
“That is beyond doubt,” Li Wei replied proudly. Even in the late Ming, China led the world in civilization. Then he said, “Yet pride invites loss, humility brings benefit. Tang must not stagnate because of past achievements. So, I wish to entrust you with a task—a troublesome one, but if successful, your merits may rival those of Marquis Zhang Qian.”
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“Your Highness,” Hu Ying stammered, unsure what to say. No matter how wealthy, nothing rivaled the honor of official recognition. After much hesitation, he answered, “I dare not disobey.”
“I wish you, or someone you appoint, to travel to Arabia, Byzantium, or even farther west, to observe their crops and bring them to Tang. Or, if you find craftsmen or books of exceptional skill, select and bring them here. Are you willing?”
He looked at Hu Ying as he finished.
This task would require traversing tens of thousands of miles, and Li Wei offered no financial support, fearing resistance. No official position or grand promise; Hu Ying was to shoulder it himself. Of course, if successful, the reward would be generous.
He knew well: palace examinations, military champions—such honors were orchestrated by his mother. Revolution means pushing out the old and ushering in the new; his mother would approve.
“Your Highness—”
“I am but the crown prince; I cannot reward you immediately. But if you complete this, I promise you great wealth and honor.”
A spark lit Hu Ying’s eyes. The crown prince, especially the benevolent one, was sure to inherit the throne smoothly. Now there were constraints, but as emperor, he would be free. He had mentioned Marquis Zhang Qian—perhaps a barony next. He could finally bring glory to his ancestors.
Seeing his brow relax, Li Wei laughed heartily and said, “Bring the dishes!”
...
Leaving Li Ji’s tavern, the first official advertisement of the Tang Dynasty was born.
Following Li Wei’s instructions, before opening, several men were sent to the entrances of the East Market to distribute milk candy. Whenever adults brought children, they handed out a piece or two and announced the shop’s address.
Turning a corner, Li Wei saw a sharp, capable young man distributing milk candy, attracting a crowd. Two yamen officers watched from afar, unsure whether to intervene, as nothing like this had ever occurred.
Li Wei said to Bi’er, “Let’s go take a look.”
“Alright!” Bi’er leapt with excitement. After all, her parents and two new sisters-in-law—she had never seen them before.
She waved a small fan; fans of this era differed greatly from those of later generations, mostly made of feathers and not foldable. It wasn’t for elegance; in the capital, he had made several public appearances, and while few recognized him, he couldn’t risk a crowd. He used the fan to cover his face, just in case.
Arriving at the northwest corner, the advertisement’s effect was clear—a long line stretched out ahead. The soft, fragrant milk candy had a powerful allure; even the noble Li Lingyue had not grown tired of it after days, let alone ordinary folk.
The price, however, was steep: cut into small pieces, wrapped in paper, two coins per piece—a luxury. This was deliberate; poor families struggled to afford even rice, let alone candy. But children, ignorant of such things, dragged their elders to buy after tasting the sample. When told the price, many poor families balked. One child threw a tantrum; his parent smacked him several times, leaving him in tears.
Li Wei frowned.
Bi’er pulled his hand and whispered, “Your Highness, don’t be sad. You can’t save everyone. Besides, better to give them grain than candy.”
But Bi’er’s father had seen the benevolent crown prince and brought over a dozen pieces. That family thanked him profusely as they left. Turning, he stared at Bi’er, hesitated, not having seen her in years; she had grown, and he could hardly recognize her.
Bi’er rushed over, crying out, “Father!” and sobbing.
Li Wei sighed again. There were always things beyond one’s power: disaster victims, palace eunuchs and maids—some maids spent decades in the inner palace, never venturing out. In the palace, some eunuchs and maids acted as false couples; Li Wei pretended not to notice. Once, he accidentally entered a maid’s chamber and saw a jade phallus over twenty centimeters long, nearly twice the normal size; seeing it, he broke out in a sweat and fled.
The two spoke in whispers for a while. Old Jiang came over, evidently instructed by Bi’er not to make a fuss, but unsure how to greet him. He stammered, “Greetings… greetings…”
“Uncle Jiang, no need to stand on ceremony. You all help me, and I am grateful. Oh, I heard your sons were recently married, and I neglected to congratulate them. Here are two jade pendants as a belated wedding gift.”
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He took two jade pendants from his robe.
“I dare not accept.”
“Bi’er has served me faithfully, weathered countless storms by my side. Don’t be too modest; it only makes us seem strangers.”
“Yes, yes.” Bi’er’s father, overwhelmed, didn’t catch the undertone of the words.
“Carry on, I’m just here to look around.”
His real purpose was to find Hu Ying; the milk candy was a side interest.
“Yes, yes,” Old Jiang replied, returning to his tasks.
Standing aside, Li Wei observed that most bought only a few pieces, or a dozen—after all, it was expensive. Rice prices had risen; in previous years, excluding bumper harvests, ten coins could buy a dou of rice. Yet some wealthy customers were lavish—just now, a servant from a noble house slapped a string of coins on the table and declared, “Give me a string’s worth of candy!”
A string of coins equaled five hundred pieces of milk candy. It was pricey, but each piece was much larger than those of later times. Five hundred pieces made a hefty bundle, drawing the attention of the entire queue.
Watching the speed and volume of sales, Li Wei estimated that at this rate, nearly a hundred strings of coins could be sold in a day. After costs, the profit would be forty or fifty strings—a considerable income. Still, the initial purchase of land and building cost over three thousand strings, taken from the palace treasury, and the deficit had to be repaid. Though considerable, it was not rapid. Once the novelty wore off, business might not remain so brisk.
Wholesale was possible, but summer heat complicated transport and storage, limiting expansion. If they did wholesale, nearby prefectural cities might be reached—Luoyang at best. Or they could open branch stores, but the Jiang family was too few, and hiring outsiders risked leaking the technique. Once leaked, the Jiang family would lose their advantage.
He was pondering all this when suddenly a clear, lively voice sounded beside him: “Yan’er, look at my attire—don’t I resemble a young scholar with feather fan and silk headband?”
The feather fan and silk headband were from his poem, but what had it to do with scholarly excellence?
Li Wei turned, and saw a lovely young woman dressed in a scholar’s robe, holding a goose-feather fan, wearing a silk headband. Her fair face was delicate and radiant, her large dark eyes bright and spirited—a beauty not inferior to Yang Min, yet dressed as a young man.
She was speaking to a maid excluded from the crowd.
The maid covered her mouth, stifling laughter, then said, “Young master, you do! Even more handsome than Duke Zhou, more elegant than Pan An and Song Yu.”
“Of course! Do you think any young ladies might be smitten with me?”
The remark left Li Wei speechless.
Their boasting had drawn the attention of a burly man ahead, who turned and said, “Don’t flatter yourselves—I could smell the powder on you from a mile away.”
He cut to the heart of it; Bi’er, leaning on Li Wei’s elbow, giggled uncontrollably.
PS: Whether I can secure the Sanjiang featured push next week depends on your support—please vote. If successful, I’ll post four chapters on Monday as thanks.
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