Chapter Ninety-Nine: Wan'er’s First Cry, The Crescent Moon Grows Full

Early in the morning, I went for a run with Shangguan Wan'er. We reached the summit, where the scenery of Mount Shaoshi in May was truly magnificent.

Great billows of mist drifted between the peaks, not quite coalescing, appearing instead like white ribbons that revealed patches of emerald-green mountains, transforming the landscape into a celestial realm.

As we ran back down, Shangguan Wan'er clutched her calves and said, "Your Highness, this servant is exhausted."

"If you're tired, go back and rest." I sighed, feeling somewhat speechless. I was pushing myself to the limit to improve my health and ensure my survival, but what was she doing this for?

After finishing a set of boxing exercises, I returned to my room to find Shangguan Wan'er writing while Li Lingyue hovered nearby, watching. Seeing me enter, Shangguan Wan'er immediately hid the paper.

"What are you writing?"

"I won't let you see," she replied, a blush coloring her cheeks.

My curiosity was piqued. Perhaps it was innate, or perhaps it was because she grew up in the Ye Ting Palace, but despite her youth, her demeanor was remarkably poised. What could she have written to make her so shy?

When she refused to show me, Li Lingyue snitched, "Big Brother, she's writing a poem."

"You can write poetry at such a young age?" I was pleasantly surprised. This was more like it; what business did she have running and boxing? Her calling was to write poetry and prose. I leaned over and asked, "Could you let me have a look?"

"My writing is very poor; please don't mock me."

"Why would I mock you? You are still young; it is impressive enough that you can write poetry at all. I wouldn't dream of demanding perfection."

Shyly, Shangguan Wan'er produced the paper. On it was a five-character regulated verse:

*The wind arrives, the bamboo shadows sway,*
*The sun breaks through, the clouds blush red.*
*Crossing the waves toward Kunlun’s heights,*
*Dew scatters where the heavy mists spread.*
*Accompanying the carriage to Shaoshi’s prayer,*
*Serving the view near the orchid grove.*
*The floral stage holds no fragrant hue,*
*The lotus pagoda is filled with the pine’s repose.*
*The Crown Prince is gifted with benevolence,*
*His prayers for blessing shall surely bear fruit.*

Empress Wu Zetian had once left a poem here as well when she accompanied Li Zhi to the Shaolin Temple. Her poem was grand and heavy with authority, reflecting the "royal aura" she naturally possessed from handling state affairs. In contrast, Shangguan Wan'er’s poem was delicate and natural. Granted, it was slightly immature, but she was only eight years old!

"Excellent, this is truly excellent," I couldn't help but praise.

"Big Brother," Li Lingyue tugged at my sleeve, feigning dissatisfaction with a pout.

"Little Sister, this is your role model. You must study hard as well."

"Big Brother," she drawled, continuing to act spoiled.

Just then, Eunuch Jin returned from Luoyang. He seemed to have been in a hurry, having likely traveled since dawn, as he was covered in dew. I said, "You two go out and play; I have matters to discuss with Eunuch Jin."

Eunuch Jin caught sight of the poem on the table. Having traveled with me to the Eastern Palace in Luoyang, he recognized Wan'er’s handwriting. He let out an "Oh" and asked, "Did Shangguan Wan'er write this?"

"She did."

"Wan'er can write poetry now," Eunuch Jin said happily.

She could do more than just write poetry; in time, she would become a master of the "Shangguan style," just like her grandfather.

"Rare, truly rare. Your Highness, look at that last line—how marvelous: 'The Crown Prince is gifted with benevolence, his prayers for blessing shall surely bear fruit.'"

The final line was a small flattery directed at me, though perhaps not entirely so; the little girl relied on me as both father and brother, so it was likely sixty percent sincere. Eunuch Jin, however, was definitely sixty percent sycophantic.

"A fine poem, a fine poem indeed." Eunuch Jin read it aloud, continuing his praise.

It wasn't exactly a masterpiece, but for an eight-year-old, it was remarkable. Eunuch Jin likely assumed I would eventually take Wan'er into my harem, hence the excessive fawning. The thought of an eight-year-old Wan'er was absurd. I took the poem from his hands and said, "Eunuch Jin, enough about the poem. Let's discuss business."

"Yes, Your Highness!" Eunuch Jin knew when to stop. He produced the list of merchants who had donated to the Great Ci'en Temple and the corresponding amounts.

After talking with Di Renjie for a long while, I realized that the salt trade was far more complex than I had imagined. Lake salt from Hedong, pond salt from Yanzhou, well salt from Yizhou, and boiled sea salt were the primary sources of salt in the Tang Dynasty. Apart from the sea salt, which was costly and low-yield, the others were controlled by the imperial court, which had even established Commissioners of Salt and Iron to oversee them. Salt was a major source of state revenue. While private salt production wasn't prohibited, the volume of private salt actually exceeded that of the court.

However, if sun-dried salt were popularized, salt prices would plummet, causing severe losses to the court unless offset by salt taxes.

I had described the method of sun-drying salt—not from any book, but from having seen salt pans by the sea. This salt would require refining, but in this era, "refining" was a loose term. The method was simple to manage; one only needed to assign men to guide the brine and monitor the evaporation ponds. Furthermore, the coastal regions were not like Lingnan, and shipping costs were low, which would create an even greater market disruption.

Yet, Di Renjie was as skeptical of this as he had been of bamboo paper.

Seeing his expression, I silently congratulated myself for not impulsively revealing every detail; heaven only knew what rumors that would have sparked. Now I finally understood what it meant to be a Crown Prince!

I pressed him, "What would happen if it succeeded?"

"Your Highness, where did you learn of this?" Di Renjie asked in return.

I was left speechless.

Di Renjie and Wei Yuanzhong exchanged a look. Both were serious scholars; while they believed in the supernatural, they weren't fanatics. Yet, the Crown Prince made them feel… well, to put it politely, "miraculous," or to put it bluntly, "uncanny."

But if it truly involved divine intervention, that was a good thing.

I laid out my plan. Regardless of where I had learned it, this was a project that would benefit the country and the people. To avoid drawing the Emperor's suspicion, I insisted on using my own methods, adding, "The fewer people who know about this, the better. And not just this—future projects of a similar nature must also be kept quiet, at least until His Majesty passes."

Even so, watching the Crown Prince acquire yet another enterprise—one likely a hundred times larger than the sugar workshop—made them uneasy. Did the Crown Prince intend to become a merchant prince?

Di Renjie was deeply troubled, and Wei Yuanzhong even more so. At least Di Renjie had to help arrange the management, making him complicit in the affair.

To comfort my two capable strategists, I took them to Gong County to visit the porcelain kilns. Gong County’s porcelain and "Tang Sancai" (three-color glazed pottery) were famous, but they didn't meet my standards.

I observed the process and noticed the kiln structures were inefficient, relying on wood fuel. I didn't know much about firing porcelain, but I knew that high-quality pieces were usually high-temperature fired. I considered suggesting they mine coal, but seeing the expressions of Di Renjie and Wei Yuanzhong, I wisely kept my mouth shut.

I knew a little about kaolin clay and glazes, though I lacked specific knowledge. I recalled that Jingdezhen’s kaolin was the best material, and I learned there were kilns in Hongzhou, though they weren't top-tier.

I sighed. My knowledge was too limited. Even though porcelain would eventually become synonymous with China, it wasn't something I could easily influence.

I did, however, discover an interesting problem: because of the many kilns, Gong County had a large population of "runaway households." Officials didn't care much. Discussing this with Wei Yuanzhong and Di Renjie, their explanation left me speechless: counties had a two-faced policy. They tried to prevent local people from leaving, as tax was based on headcounts, but they turned a blind eye to incoming runaways.

The Equal-Field System, runaway households, the Zuyongdiao tax system, the Fubing system—I recited them in my mind, sensing a deep connection, but my thoughts remained a chaotic mess. I recalled the mountain of memorials in my parents' room and sighed; being an Emperor was no easy task.

After our tour, Di Renjie and Wei Yuanzhong felt better, but I felt only gloomier.

Flipping through the list of donors, I recognized few names. Zou Fengchi, who had donated five thousand strings of cash—he was wealthy, so I skipped over him. He was a man of vast connections, and his dealings were complex. But another name caught my eye: Liang Jinzhu, who had donated four thousand strings.

I had heard of this Liang Jinzhu. Donating such a large sum likely meant he had liquidated some of his assets. He must have done it to show gratitude for my bowing to him. A fool, perhaps, but a devoted one.

Further down, another name caught my attention: Lu Ma, the horse trader I had seen talking to Hu Ying at the restaurant. He had donated three thousand strings. As for Hu Ying, I had tasked him with something else, so he was occupied.

I circled both names and said, "Eunuch Jin, secretly summon them to the Eastern Capital so I may meet them."

"Your Highness, that won't do." Appearing at a public banquet was one thing—it highlighted Liang Jinzhu's charity—but meeting in private? If their status as merchants were known, the controversy would be immense.

"Eunuch Jin, this isn't for show. I am summoning them to carry out a task of great importance to the nation. But it must remain secret."

"Indeed, indeed."

"Then assign a trusted confidant to handle it."

"But Your Highness..."

I couldn't help but shake my head. Were merchants in this era really viewed as such fearsome tigers?

Seeing that I would not be persuaded, Eunuch Jin pulled a letter from his robe and said, "This was entrusted to me by His Majesty for you; it is a letter from the Prince of Pei."

A letter from my second brother? I opened it. It was about the bamboo paper. By the time he wrote it, nearly three months had passed; the hundred-day deadline I had set was approaching. The matter had caused a sensation in Chang'an, even alarming my mother, Empress Wu Zetian, who had sent guards to watch the workshop day and night.

It had actually alarmed my mother?

I read on. Li Xian was very worried. He said that if I could produce paper, even if it were of inferior quality, it wouldn't matter. But if I failed, the consequences would be dire.

The letter was sincere and written in a fine hand. This was the first time I had seen Li Xian’s calligraphy. I felt a sense of comfort; buying that Wuzhou vine paper for him had been worth it. This was family. Yet, my parents... they remained unmoved. Could imperial power truly strip a person of all familial affection?

As for the bamboo paper, I would have to leave it to fate. The month of fasting was drawing to a close.