Declining credit for one's achievements

Li Shimin truly deserved his reputation as a brilliant and seasoned commander. Once he regained his composure, he quickly grasped the potential uses of gunpowder in warfare. His thoughts aligned closely with those of Li Zhi, both believing that its power to intimidate far surpassed its actual lethality.

After Li Shimin shared his ideas with the others, it was Li Jing, himself a general, who first understood the implications. “With this in our possession,” Li Jing declared, “we could, at the heat of battle, sow chaos among the enemy ranks by catching them off guard—thus breaking their formation with ease.”

Fang Xuanling and Wang Gui both congratulated Li Shimin, saying, “Congratulations, Your Majesty, on acquiring such a miraculous substance. This will greatly enhance the might of our Tang armies.”

Li Shimin replied with a pleased laugh, “The credit is owed to Zhinü. Without him, I would never have achieved this.”

The trio hurried to offer their congratulations to Li Zhi as well. Seeing this, Li Zhi quickly interjected, “The true credit belongs to Physician Sun’s formula. I merely refined it a little.”

He had no desire to claim all the merit for himself, for in truth, Sun Simiao had been but a step away from success already. To seize all the glory now would surely leave Sun Simiao feeling slighted.

Li Zhi then recounted how he had obtained the formula from Sun Simiao. Upon hearing that Sun Simiao had played such a crucial role, everyone’s respect for the physician deepened further.

Seizing the moment, Li Zhi proposed, “Father, I believe Physician Sun deserves a proper reward—not only to recognize his invention, but also to inspire others to pursue their own crafts and bring more wonders to our Great Tang.”

Everyone nodded in agreement with Li Zhi’s suggestion.

After a brief pause for thought, Li Shimin asked Fang Xuanling and the others, “I intend to appoint Physician Sun as a Gentleman Consultant, with an estate of six hundred bushels. What do you all think?”

Fang Xuanling responded, “Physician Sun is currently establishing a medical academy. Since Your Majesty wishes to reward him, why not grant him an official post as well?”

Wang Gui and Li Jing both concurred. The title of Gentleman Consultant was a fifth-rank sinecure, carrying rank but no real power. Now that Sun Simiao was founding a medical academy, this was a perfect opportunity to formalize its standing.

Li Shimin hesitated. “What rank do you believe the medical academy should hold?” he asked.

After a moment’s thought, Wang Gui said, “At present, the Imperial Academy oversees six schools, each devoted to a single discipline. I propose the medical academy be placed under the Imperial Academy’s jurisdiction and designated as a Dean’s office.”

The Imperial Academy of Tang was the highest authority in education, responsible for both instruction and administration. The Dean oversaw the educational functions of each discipline. Li Shimin and the others found this suggestion reasonable. In the end, they resolved to appoint Sun Simiao as Dean of the Imperial Academy, in charge of medical education, with the additional title of Gentleman Consultant.

With Sun Simiao’s new appointment secured, Li Zhi held his peace. In his view, as long as Sun Simiao’s future achievements were not overshadowed by his own involvement, he was content. For the rest, Li Zhi dared not speak out lightly. At such a young age, an excessive interest in state affairs might not be seen in a favorable light.

With the matter of gunpowder settled, Li Zhi turned his attention to refining salt and sugar. In truth, the Tang dynasty’s salt-making techniques were already quite advanced. With the adoption of the Five-Step Method, Tang salt had lost much of its bitterness. The only downside was that the grains remained large, and the refinement not thorough enough, leaving the salt less than pure white.

Yet this was only true for ordinary people. The salt consumed by the nobility was filtered even more carefully—its color a pale greenish-white and its texture as fine as that found in modern times. Li Zhi’s goal now was to improve the filtering process, reducing the usual six or seven rounds of filtration to just one or two.

For this, he relied on a mineral that Liu An had procured for him—limestone. He had studied this material extensively in his previous chemistry lessons and knew well the many uses of both quicklime and slaked lime.

In recent days, Liu An had become his assistant, often handling the manual labor required for the experiments. Now, after smashing a chunk of limestone into pieces, Liu An squatted by the side, catching his breath. Between gasps, he asked, “Your Highness, why did you have me break up this stone?”

Li Zhi replied, “According to what I’ve learned from books, to understand a mineral, one must first see if it can be broken apart.”

“What comes next, Your Highness?” Liu An inquired.

Li Zhi examined the fragments for a while and said, “Let’s fire them in the kiln.”

Obediently, Liu An gathered the pieces and, using a basket, accompanied Li Zhi to the kiln they had previously used to make coke. Once meant for producing charcoal for the palace, it had since been commandeered by Li Zhi.

Here, Liu An felt more at ease, for the workers had all been retained by Li Zhi. According to his instructions, they calcined the limestone, soon producing some pale white stones. Li Zhi then had these crushed into a heap of white powder, setting aside a portion for further study and dissolving the rest in a vat of water.

As the process unfolded, the water in the vat soon began to boil, emitting thick white vapors. The onlookers were amazed, stunned by the spectacle before them. Next, Li Zhi divided the limewater and the sediment into multiple portions, intending to use them for further experiments. He instructed Liu An to record each step, then remarked, “I’ve read many books, and though the ancients devised countless methods to study the world around them, no one ever compiled them into a systematic approach.”

Liu An, astonished, asked, “Does Your Highness mean to establish a method for investigating all things?”

Li Zhi nodded. “Though it may not succeed, I wish to try.”

His purpose in saying this was to prepare an excuse for the increasing number of experiments he intended to conduct. Human progress is the pursuit of the unknown; in this process, the conversion of unknowns to knowns, and the application of knowledge to solve problems, is the very essence of technological advancement. The development of Tang’s science and technology could not rely on him alone. What he must do now was show others the path to progress.

Liu An’s thoughts did not reach so far. He simply felt that his young master aspired to great things. He said, “For Your Highness to delve so deeply into the study of nature at such a young age commands my admiration.”

Li Zhi waved him off. “It’s nothing—merely a matter of interest.”