Chapter Ninety-Five: Auspicious Signs (Part One)

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"The Emperor is asking about windmills and machine wells? Brother Zishou, sit down and rest for a moment, I'll go change my clothes now." Zhang Qian finally realized that Zhang Jiuling wasn't trying to trick him. As he hurried after him to gather up the scattered papers, he whispered in explanation, "I'm really not slacking off. I was at home, pondering how to increase the yield of alcohol and make the firepower stronger when ignited."

"You can say that to the Emperor later! Ren Cong, call a few maids in to help your senior change!" Zhang Jiuling rolled his eyes in exasperation, bustling about to help him tidy his attire while muttering in a low voice, "You've only been on the job for a month, and already you dare to skip work, Yongzhao. You're impressive—even more so than Lu Cangyong back in his day. He merely resigned and pretended to retire to Zhongnan Mountain, waiting for the court to summon him again. But you, you emulate the likes of Pang Tong from the Three Kingdoms—neglecting your duties, content to lounge and sleep!"

"I don't have Pang Tong's abilities!" Zhang Qian blushed at the rebuke but stubbornly refused to admit fault. "I really am doing proper work. If you don't believe me, look—"

He unfurled the rolled-up papers again, presenting the hastily sketched sailboat to Zhang Jiuling. "The area around Chang'an is surrounded by eight rivers, yet there isn't a decent boat. This ship has two decks: the upper for passengers, the lower for cargo. With the help of wind, it can sail from the Wei River straight into the Yellow River..."

Well, no one could deny that what he'd drawn was indeed a ship—and its shape unmistakably resembled the world-famous Spanish galleons of later centuries. Though Tang Dynasty craftsmen might not have the skills to build it, Zhang Qian himself had no idea how it could actually be constructed.

"You just said you were at home pondering how to increase the power and yield of gunpowder!" Zhang Jiuling rolled his eyes again, mercilessly exposing his lie. "You can tell me anything you want—it doesn't matter. But once you meet the Emperor, you'd better mind your tongue."

He glanced quickly out the window, and before the servants arrived, he lowered his voice so only Zhang Qian could hear: "Before Bì Gou left, he made a special trip to see the Right Chancellor Xiao Zhizhong. He copied the sketches of your windmill and machine well and entrusted Xiao to present them to the Emperor, claiming that if such devices could be produced in large quantities, they could halve the floods and droughts throughout the empire. Today, both Zong Chuke, Minister of War, and Ji Chune, Grand Treasurer, offered auspicious beasts to the Emperor. Chancellor Xiao presented your windmill and waterwheel as well. Some officials in court, angry over Bì Gou's treatment, seized the opportunity to argue that only innovations beneficial to the nation and its people were truly auspicious. Thus, the Emperor became interested in your windmill and machine well and sent for you from the Fireworks Bureau. Thanks to the good-hearted Yang, the Chief Minister, who knows how you officials in the Five Bureaus usually operate, he suggested postponing the matter until the next court session, sparing you from getting caught red-handed for slacking off." (Note: The Tang Dynasty’s Left and Right Chancellors were akin to Prime Ministers.)

He cast Zhang Qian a fierce glare, frustrated beyond words. "In short, you got lucky today. Otherwise, if you left a bad impression on the Emperor, you'd be stuck as an eighth-rank register clerk for life!"

"Auspicious beasts? Offered by Zong Chuke and Ji Chune?" Zhang Qian frowned in confusion. "Let them offer what they want—how did windmills and machine wells get dragged into it?"

It was no wonder he couldn't appreciate Zhang Jiuling's kindness. Even as an eighth-rank register clerk in the Military Bureau, or a sixth-rank overseer, opportunities to see the Emperor were rare, counted on one's fingers throughout the year. He'd barely been in office for a month—how could he have guessed he'd already come to the Emperor’s attention?

Worse still, Zhang Jiuling had rattled off so many titles and names, none of which Zhang Qian could place. He only knew that Chancellor Xiao Zhizhong was famed for his virtue, Yang Chen was a seasoned official who offended no one, and Zong Chuke and Ji Chune were both despised by Bì Gou. As for their appearances and temperaments, he was utterly in the dark.

"You—you—forget it, I give up!" Zhang Jiuling was so angry he almost stormed out, but couldn't bear to let Zhang Qian blunder into trouble. Stamping his foot, he added quietly, "Isn't it obvious? Wei Yuanzhong, Left Chancellor and Chief Secretary, was accused of conspiring with the Crown Prince and demoted to county magistrate at the start of the month, vacating his position as Left Chancellor. Zong Chuke is eyeing that post and wants to curry favor with the Emperor by offering auspicious signs. Xiao Zhizhong, however, considers Zong Chuke too ruthless and unfit for high office, so he seeks to undermine his offering by presenting your windmill and machine well. During the next court session, someone will surely ask your opinion on these auspicious signs—make sure not to get involved. Such things are always defined by people: if they’re needed, they’re auspicious; if not, they aren’t!"

He regarded Zhang Qian as a friend, so he confided secrets that should have been withheld, laying everything out clearly. Zhang Qian, realizing he’d been swept into a conflict over the authenticity of auspicious signs, was so stunned he saw stars. Only when Zijuan finished dressing him and he climbed into the carriage with Zhang Jiuling did he regain his composure, sighing deeply, "Isn’t this calamity falling from the sky while I sit at home? I was just making something to drain water—who did I offend?"

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"Blessings and misfortunes are intertwined—haven’t you heard that?" Zhang Jiuling rolled his eyes again, and, with no third party nearby, offered further advice. "But for you, it may not be all bad. Bì Gou is neither reckless nor a bookish fool; he’s served as a local official for years and knows the hardships of the people. If, before leaving Chang’an, he dared to entrust your windmill and machine well to Chancellor Xiao for presentation to the Emperor, it shows he believes in their value. Now that the Emperor has summoned you, he must see their worth as well. So, when you attend the next court session, focus on what you’re best at, and don’t get involved in matters you don’t understand!"

"My strength is philosophy—Marxist philosophy, even. But can Li Xian, His Majesty, understand that?" Zhang Qian muttered inwardly, not daring to say it aloud. He could only nod with a sheepish smile, quickly pondering what to say to meet Zhang Jiuling's expectations.

"Ah, Yongzhao, what am I to do with you?" Zhang Jiuling sighed again, shaking his head. "I’ve been an official for years and never met anyone as slow to catch on as you. Let me make it plain: you’re a disciple of the School of Mo, skilled in mechanical arts. At the court session, just talk about windmills, machine wells, gunpowder, and refining furnaces. Show your expertise and confuse everyone, so they forget about the auspicious signs, and you can escape unscathed."

"Oh—" Zhang Qian finally understood, gratefully clasping his hands. "Thank you, Zishou, your explanation makes it much clearer. Close your eyes and rest, I'll start rehearsing now!"

With that, he closed his eyes, gathered his scattered thoughts, and began to consider how, without a PowerPoint presentation, he could make his inventions seem impressive enough to convince his audience to invest willingly.

As it happened, he recalled a marketing case study from his memory: a certain international brand's bladeless fan, which used no new technology and was astonishingly noisy, yet was hyped as a miracle against summer heat and sold for the price of an air conditioner.

His windmill and machine well, though less efficient and more expensive, were undeniably epoch-making technologies. Why shouldn't they attract attention and investment?

If only the state would invest and oversee their promotion—public-private partnership would be ideal. Even if he earned just fifty coins per set, if the whole empire was filled with these devices...

The more he thought, the happier Zhang Qian became; the happier, the more his thoughts wandered.

In his mind’s eye, rice and millet filled the granaries, both private and public, overflowing...

Suddenly, the carriage transformed into the Golden Palace. A plump man sat behind the imperial desk, smiling broadly as he announced, "Yongzhao has rendered great service to the nation—he should be honored twelve times, granted the title of Founder Duke, Chief Minister, and Head of Government..."

"Your Majesty, I am poorly educated and dare not assume high office. I only wish Your Majesty would cease marrying off our women to Tibet and let all those sent away return home." Zhang Qian’s heart blazed, and he clasped his hands, bowing deeply to the emperor.

"What did you say, Zhang Yongzhao?

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"National affairs are no child’s game!"

"Yongzhao, Yongzhao, have you had too much to drink?"

...

Rebukes, exclamations, and admonitions followed one after another. In an instant, the palace was abuzz, as if boiling over.

"Sending beauties to secure the state, yet not knowing where to use our generals!" Zhang Qian straightened himself, scanning the assembled officials, and spoke with a cold smile.

The clamor vanished, replaced by a dead silence.

Then, faintly, a familiar voice sounded at his ear: "Brother Yongzhao, thank you!"

...

"Wake up, Yongzhao, hurry and wake up! We’re at Xiama Bridge—get out of the carriage and come with me to wait in the court hall." Suddenly, a powerful shove hit his shoulder, sending him flying as if plunging into an abyss.

"Mm!" Zhang Qian painfully opened his eyes, seeing Zhang Jiuling’s amused and exasperated face. "Yongzhao, you’re something else. You could even sleep at a time like this?"