Chapter 20: Lü Cai

Chapter 20: Lü Cai

“Are you a candidate here in Chang’an for the imperial examinations? If you feel tired, you can go next door to the hot water bathhouse; five wen will get you a warm bath,” the innkeeper said earnestly to Lü Cai.

“Five wen…” Lü Cai’s face darkened at the price.

As a poor commoner who had traveled all the way from Qinghe County to Chang’an, he had already spent most of his money, even taking occasional side jobs writing letters just to scrape together enough for the journey.

But with many high officials and noble families in Chang’an, he thought he might get by by composing music for a living.

Seeing Lü Cai’s hesitation, the innkeeper took a few steps back and calmly knocked on a wooden board behind him, then said, “You’re quite lucky. The Prince of Yue’s Agricultural Academy is currently recruiting teachers in six subjects: literature, mathematics, agriculture, medicine, Mohism, and music.

“If any of you candidates are interested, you can apply. Once hired, not only will you get food and lodging, but free paper as well. There are even special carriages to take you to the exam. Isn’t that better than staying here at the inn?”

“Wait… you’re a bit too enthusiastic with your recommendation!” Lü Cai said, surprised.

“Oh, this inn and the bathhouse next door are both properties of the Prince of Yue’s estate,” the innkeeper chuckled.

“They give me a bonus for every recruit I bring here. It’s a win-win!”

Lü Cai looked at the few coins left in his pocket and felt this was at least a way to get food and shelter temporarily. After splurging on a bath, he took the innkeeper’s referral card and went to a seemingly ordinary residence in Chang’an to register.

Upon arrival, he heard someone shout, “The twenty positions for literature teachers and twenty for assistant teachers are full. Those applying for literature can give up or try other subjects.”

Hearing this, most of the crowd dispersed with sighs.

After all, poor candidates coming for the imperial exams might lack other skills, but those who passed the literary exams usually had solid talent.

Li Tai had sent them here mainly to educate children in basic literacy, so there were plenty of qualified people.

Seeing no hope for literature, Lü Cai chose what he was best at: music.

Though he didn’t quite understand how music related to farming, nor what he could teach students as a music teacher, it didn’t matter. He just wanted a place that offered food and lodging in this money-hungry city.

When he entered, he noticed the music department’s head was a boy no older than eight.

Few candidates applied for music, which was understandable. Skilled music candidates usually went to the entertainment quarters to be musicians, where pay was not necessarily worse than teaching.

Some might even be recommended by nobles and skip the exams entirely to become officials.

He laughed bitterly at himself—pretending to be aloof, so he was doomed to be poor and stuck.

“What a confident fellow!” Li Tai observed as Lü Cai entered, showing neither nervousness nor suspicion about a child supervising the exam. He asked, “Can you play the ‘Qin King’s Battle Music’?”

“Yes,” Lü Cai replied, “but the instruments are insufficient.”

“No problem! You can take whatever instruments you want here,” Li Tai said, having prepared the instruments for the ‘Qin King’s Battle Music’.

Li Tai wasn’t very familiar with other music of this era; this was the only piece he knew, and he used it as the exam piece.

Lü Cai performed confidently, starting with striking a bell, then playing the zither, then flute, followed by the xiao flute, konghou harp, guzheng, and rhythmic drums—music rising and falling like a grand symphony.

Why did Li Tai kneel down listening? Because he felt not kneeling would be disrespectful to the performer.

Li Tai didn’t know Lü Cai, nor that he would later revise the ‘Qin King’s Battle Music’, rename it ‘Dance of the Seven Virtues’, compose ‘Dance of Nine Achievements’ renamed from ‘Dance of Glory and Benevolence’, and create the ‘Lantern Festival Dance’—many of his pieces lasting a thousand years.

From this, it was clear Lü Cai was the era’s top musician, perhaps unrivaled.

Li Tai’s choice of the ‘Qin King’s Battle Music’ as a test was like showing off a big sword before Guan Yu—overestimating himself.

Still, Li Tai had palace education and understood Lü Cai’s talent. Though young, he showed promise as a great master musician in the making.

“Excellent piece! You’ve passed. From now on, you’re the music teacher at the Agricultural Academy,” Li Tai applauded.

Relieved, Lü Cai couldn’t help but ask, “Young master, I have some doubts. Could you help me understand?”

“Ask anything. If I can answer, I will,” Li Tai promised.

“I heard this academy is run by the Prince of Yue and focuses on agriculture. Why is there a music department?” Lü Cai asked.

“Oh, that,” Li Tai nodded. “It’s a good question. There are two main reasons.

“First, I want to try large-scale intensive farming. To manage it effectively, drumbeats and music are the easiest way to organize and give commands. I want to experiment with strengthening coordination this way.

“Second, it’s about the crops themselves.”

“The crops themselves?” Lü Cai was puzzled.

“As the saying goes, all things have a spirit. Since humans enjoy music, maybe crops do too.

“Next year, I plan to set aside a plot to test this—playing music for an hour daily to see if it helps the crops grow stronger.”

“That’s a novel idea! Using music to aid crop growth?” Lü Cai’s eyes brightened.

“It’s just a trial,” Li Tai said. “But if it works, I’ll have songs composed for the twenty-four solar terms, embedding agricultural advice in each, to help farmers plant more effectively.”

Hearing this, Lü Cai’s eyes flickered. He’d never considered that music, usually enjoyed by the elite, could be used to benefit common folk.

It was like a new world opening before him, though his ambition remained focused on passing this year’s imperial exam to rise above.

“How are the new teachers?” Li Tai asked Ma Zhou. “Are they adjusting to school life?”

“Not bad. The literature teachers have begun teaching the children the Thousand Character Classic. With supervision, getting over eight hundred kids literate shouldn’t be hard.

“Lü Cai is a musical genius, qualified to harmonize the six pitches and degrees.

“In contrast, the heads for mathematics, agriculture, Mohism, and medicine are lacking. Some teach reluctantly, but no one suitable to lead.”

“We’ll let the agriculture teachers grow into a leader over time. Whoever farms best and guides students well will rise naturally in ten or twenty years.

“For mathematics, I plan to bring someone from the Bureau of Astronomy or the Chess Office.

“For Mohism, I hope the Mo family from a thousand years ago can reemerge, but since no one’s around, I’ll recruit from craftsmen.

“As for medicine, I’ve heard Sun Simiao is the era’s top doctor; if he joins, that would be ideal.”

Li Tai counted on his fingers, then sighed, “Talents are truly rare these days.”

“Sun Simiao’s a deity-level figure. He wouldn’t deign to join your agricultural academy,” Ma Zhou scoffed.

“Better to be practical and see what we really have,” he added.

“Let’s make do for now. Compared to literature, the other subjects can develop slowly,” Li Tai said calmly.

“This academy is experimental; we’ll grow it gradually.”

“Alright, I’ll keep working part-time,” Ma Zhou sighed. “Most signed temporary contracts. By February, we’ll probably need to recruit more.”

“They won’t pass the exams!” Li Tai shook his head. “Most who come here are poor candidates without money for bribes or connections to the Red Chamber. The few who pass by sheer luck are rare.

“You’re an example; if you could pass, why would you hang around with me?”

“Prince of Yue, you’re actually quite wise when you don’t speak,” Ma Zhou said solemnly.

“Tsk, tsk, now you’re threatening to kill me!” Li Tai joked.

At that moment, a eunuch arrived with an imperial edict: “Prince of Yue, a censor has lodged a complaint against you. Please go to the Eastern Palace to explain.”

After the messenger left with a purse of money, Ma Zhou’s expression grew serious. “Looks like our dealings with the Zheng family have been exposed.”

“Bring the ledgers showing the bathhouse’s water flow and the coal miners’ output,” Li Tai instructed.

He took a deep breath. “Fortunately, even if scolded, the worst is losing the bathhouse business.

“But if successful, the Zheng family’s assets will be firmly in our hands.”

Ma Zhou said nothing, bowed slightly, and accompanied Li Tai out.

At the Eastern Palace, Li Tai found Censor Zhang Xuansu nearby, along with ministers Du Ruhui, Fang Xuanling, and others, all engrossed in state affairs.

Li Tai greeted them and resumed his business, as if they were mere bureaucrats without emotion.

“Li Tai greets the Sage!” he said properly.

“Ah, Qingque, you’ve come,” Emperor Taizong greeted calmly.

“A censor accuses you of forcibly taking a common woman and demanding huge bribes from Zheng Fengzhi.

“Zheng Fengzhi couldn’t resist, so he gave his granddaughter as dowry to you. You must explain,” the emperor said.

“Father, I’m innocent!” Li Tai protested.

This was not the script he expected—he thought the accusation would be collusion with Zheng Fengzhi, extorting the people.

He had planned to throw the data in the accuser’s face, but never imagined being accused of demanding bribes from Zheng Fengzhi himself.

Damn! Did Zheng Fengzhi come forward to accuse him? Who is meddling?

Li Tai took a deep breath. “Though Zheng Fengzhi’s granddaughter did become my chief maid, these properties are her dowry. I haven’t touched a single coin—they’re all managed by her.

“If you don’t believe me, here is this month’s ledger. Please review it, Your Majesty and ministers, and judge if there’s any wrongdoing.”

Hearing this, Emperor Taizong waved his hand, and attendants quickly took the ledger.

The emperor handed it to Zhang Xuansu and other ministers.

These officials, skilled in memory and analysis, barely glanced before confirming Li Tai’s accounts were legitimate.

“If you don’t covet the Zheng family’s money, why keep their young lady with you?” the emperor asked curiously.

“For their textile technology!” Li Tai explained.

“To ensure all of Chang’an enjoys hot water in winter, coal miners work tirelessly day and night.

“Their hands get frostbitten or swollen. They sustain the warm winter life of the people.

“How could I watch their hands suffer or become disabled?”

Li Tai rubbed his hands and pointed to his shoulders.

“So I use the Zheng family’s textile business to make gloves, shoulder pads, even a set of clothes for them.

“Without the textile industry, I couldn’t make these. Buying them outside would be too expensive; making them ourselves is better.”

“Congratulations, Sage. The Prince of Yue’s benevolence is truly a blessing upon the Sage and a testament to your virtue,” Wei Zheng said with exaggerated honor. If Li Tai didn’t know him, he’d doubt the sincerity.

Emperor Taizong smiled proudly, about to praise more, when Du Ruhui put down his ledger and looked at Li Tai.

“Sage, your ledger shows a large surplus, yet all funds were spent. May I ask where the money went?”

(End of chapter)