Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Little Girl

The night passed in tranquility, and Li Zisheng rested exceedingly well. Early the next morning, as he returned from the lakeside, he found the military camp unusually lively. Today was the day of the martial contest with the Turkic delegation, and the usually quiet camp was now bustling with a throng of people coming and going. Even some commoners and wealthy gentry had been invited inside to observe.

It was said that General Deng Qing had invited these citizens, hoping to foster good relations and close the distance with the people. On this point, Li Zisheng thoroughly agreed; the general’s approach was entirely correct. The power of the people was immense—just as water can carry a boat, so too can it capsize one. This principle was deeply understood in the halls of power in the Great Tang.

Watching the constant stream of people, Li Zisheng found the unease he had felt yesterday inexplicably gathering in his heart once more—a subtle tremor, or perhaps a foreboding premonition. Instinct told him that something would happen today, and it would not be any trivial matter.

He knew well enough that his intuition was seldom wrong. Forcing himself to suppress his anxiety, he walked calmly toward the place where Zhong Bai was stationed.

At that moment, Zhong Bai was extremely busy, delegating tasks to one person after another, immersed in his duties and not immediately noticing Li Zisheng’s approach. It was only when Li Zisheng drew near that he realized he was there.

“Zisheng, out practicing calligraphy again at dawn?”

Zhong Bai knew Li Zisheng’s habit of practicing his writing every morning, a routine he had maintained for two years. It was this diligence that made Zhong Bai so fond of him. A young man so devoted to learning was surely destined for a bright future—so long as he chose his allegiances wisely. If so, his path would be smooth and radiant, and Zhong Bai would gladly become his protector.

But if he chose wrong, there would be nothing Zhong Bai could do. Thus, he felt it necessary to occasionally steer Li Zisheng, to help him understand the stakes.

“Sir Zhong, do you know if there’s anything unusual about the Turkic delegation today?”

Li Zisheng, troubled by his inexplicable unease, sought a rational explanation.

“Nothing odd, really. The only strange thing is that the Turks abruptly changed the contest to an archery competition on horseback. But they must be out of their minds—the Tang army’s mounted archery is second to none. The Turks will surely be defeated and humiliated. I can’t imagine what they’re thinking, courting disaster like this.”

There was clear disdain in Zhong Bai’s voice for the Turkic delegation. Neither he, nor General Deng, nor anyone at the Lingzhou Academy had objected to the change in the contest’s format, and so it was readily agreed upon.

Only now did Li Zisheng realize what was amiss: the very fact that the Turks had changed the contest. There was something hidden in this, though he could not say why he was so certain. The moment he learned of it, his unease grew even stronger, nearly overwhelming.

Yet he could not detect anything overtly suspicious, and so had no way to warn Zhong Bai or General Deng of any trickery. All he could do was watch events unfold, taking things one step at a time.

“Zisheng, you’d best go prepare yourself. These martial contests are for warriors, not frail scholars like you. Best to avoid drawing the attention of those brutes—especially the barbaric Turks.”

Every word Zhong Bai spoke dripped with scorn for the Turks, his contempt plain to see. Li Zisheng paid him no mind, excused himself, and left.

The lake behind the barracks had all but become his personal retreat. Carrying his ever-present cloth bundle, he made his way to the lakeside, drew out a tattered brush with only a few hairs left, and began to write and sketch upon a large stone.

By now, the contest must have started. Li Zisheng was unsure who would be competing, as General Deng had detained Zhou Fulin and the others, but presumably replacements had been found.

As he wrote, he pondered the key threads of the matter.

“Hey, you rascal, your calligraphy is all crooked. Aren’t you afraid people will laugh at you?”

He turned to see a young girl who looked to be about his age. She wore a small robe with a turned-down collar and a white fur cap on her head, making her look exceedingly cute. What caught his eye most was her blue, gem-like eyes, sparkling as if made of sapphires. Though her features were not very different from those of the Tang people, she was unmistakably an adorable little foreigner.

Li Zisheng stared at her in a daze—this was the first time he had seen a foreigner within the Tang borders, and he couldn’t help but gawk.

The girl, however, took his staring another way.

“What are you looking at, you scoundrel?” she huffed, feigning anger and glaring at Li Zisheng.

He felt a bit embarrassed at being addressed as a “scoundrel,” realizing he had indeed stared for too long. He glanced away, cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Hey, I said your calligraphy is crooked. Your handwriting is actually quite beautiful, but your heart isn’t calm, so your lines go astray. Writing and reading call for single-minded focus; only then can one excel. With such a distracted mind, you’ll never succeed.”

Li Zisheng hadn’t expected the girl to be so forthright and kind, even offering him advice on how to study and write.

His worries began to fade as he looked at the lovely girl before him, his mood lightening considerably. He decided to tease her.

“Yes, you’re quite right, miss. My mind is unsettled—all because my elders have been urging me to bring home a wife this time, or else they’ll never let me off.”

He spoke with such sincerity that anyone listening would have taken him at his word.

The girl was no exception. Hearing his explanation, she frowned slightly, puzzled.

“You scoundrel, how old are you that your parents are already forcing you to marry? Isn’t that a bit early?” She seemed guileless, quickly letting go of her frown and trying to see the matter from his perspective.

“Sigh, it’s precisely because I’m still young that my elders worry. Having a child bride now is better than finding no wife at all in the future,” Li Zisheng replied earnestly. His mother had indeed said as much many times. He had tried to argue that he was still young and should focus on his studies, but neither his mother nor his grandmother agreed. They both thought his chief concern should be to secure a bride as soon as possible. Whenever he protested, his aunts would instantly chime in, leaving him wishing he could find a hole to hide in.

Thus, his words to the girl were entirely truthful.

She seemed to sense the genuineness in his tone and, quite suddenly, felt a surge of inexplicable sympathy for him. She was about to offer a few words of comfort.

“It’s all right. I think your handwriting is quite nice. In the future, you could become a tutor, or maybe teach at one of those academies—not a bad way to solve your troubles,” she said, nodding seriously, clearly convinced she had found a good solution for him.