Li Chengqian's Troubles

After arranging for the two men to observe the celestial phenomena together, Li Zhi devoted the bulk of his energy to the study of printing presses. He intended to research both movable type and woodblock printing at the same time. Using movable type for printing books would save time and conserve a significant amount of materials otherwise needed for woodblocks. For printing illustrations, however, woodblocks could be employed, allowing a single carving to produce many identical images.

The mechanical principles were not particularly complex; in fact, the machines for woodblock printing were exceedingly simple. As a result, Li Tianci soon designed two types of presses. When it came to choosing materials for the type and the blocks, he had to make some compromises. To minimize costs, he decided to use lead for the movable type and wooden boards for the engraved patterns. Once the blueprints were complete, he handed them off to Yang Siqi, and assigned the task of producing the type and blocks to the brothers Yan Lide and Yan Liben.

Both men were highly skilled in calligraphy and painting. Having spent many years at the Directorate of Construction, they found simple engraving tasks quite effortless. Carving the movable type did not require reference to books, but the woodblocks needed Li Zhi to supply designs. Thus, Li Zhi brought all the books he had written to Yan Liben, asking him to engrave the illustrations directly from the pages.

By the time this flurry of activity had subsided, it was already June, and Li Chengqian had served as regent for more than two months. During this period, he had felt enormous pressure, for even now, in Liang Prefecture, Long Prefecture, and other southwestern regions of Shannan Circuit, rainfall remained scarce. According to Fang Xuanling and others, poor or even failed harvests were now inevitable.

On Fang Xuanling's advice, Li Chengqian had begun purchasing grain from the market to prepare for the impending famine. Unfortunately, things were not progressing smoothly. First, the spring drought had led many prefectures and counties to anticipate reduced yields. Everyone was trying to hold onto their grain in case of shortages. This, in turn, led to another problem: less grain on the market, and consequently, sharply higher prices.

Li Chengqian had already issued an order in his capacity as regent, instructing local authorities to accurately estimate grain output and to relax controls as needed to meet local demands.

The court hoped that this approach would increase the available supply, enabling the government to purchase enough grain. Yet this expectation proved somewhat naive. Since the first year of the Zhenguan era, many regions of the Tang had been struck by floods and droughts, leaving the common people with little surplus. The great clans, who controlled vast tracts of arable land, had plenty of stores but chose to hoard their grain, hoping to sell at even higher prices.

Seeing that his orders had failed to produce the desired effect, Li Chengqian could not help but feel discouraged. Fang Xuanling counseled him, “Your Highness should not be overly concerned. Although progress is slow, the total amount of grain accounted for ought to be enough to weather the crisis.” He paused, then continued, “In my opinion, it would be best to wait until grain merchants are willing to release their stores, and then make large purchases. That should be enough to alleviate the shortage in the short term.”

Li Chengqian sighed. “I have considered as much, but the court has little money to spare. If grain prices rise too high, we may be willing but unable to buy.”

Dai Zhou, Minister of Revenue, interjected, “Your Highness’s worries are justified. This year, drought has compelled the digging of many wells and the clearing of irrigation channels across various regions. The treasury is indeed depleted.”

Wang Gui added, “The Agricultural Bureau has developed several new farming tools, among which the waterwheel has greatly aided irrigation. These tools are now being deployed nationwide, which should help boost yields in some counties.”

Li Chengqian’s furrowed brow eased slightly at Wang Gui’s words. “If that is truly the case, then the rise in grain prices can perhaps be checked.”

Fang Xuanling said, “We should also send more officials to the stricken prefectures to reassure the populace, lest despair lead to unrest.”

Li Chengqian nodded. “I’ll trouble you, Chancellor Fang, to make the arrangements.”

Fang Xuanling quickly bowed to accept the order. Li Chengqian’s conduct at this time left Fang Xuanling and the other ministers quite satisfied. He had not abused the authority entrusted to him as regent, but instead always sought broad counsel before making decisions. Thus far, his actions had earned him considerable credit.

In truth, Li Chengqian still carried significant pressure. Li Tai, who oversaw the compilation of books, was making smooth progress and often flaunted his literary accomplishments in public. Many scholars and literati flocked to his side, helping to raise his reputation in Tang intellectual circles.

Li Zhi, though not popular among scholars, had made substantial, tangible contributions to the empire. His improvements in steelmaking, in particular, had enabled ordinary people to use inexpensive iron tools. For this reason, Li Zhi’s standing among the people actually surpassed that of Li Tai.

Given these circumstances, Li Chengqian could only strive to act with humility before the ministers, hoping to leave them with the impression of a virtuous and enlightened prince. In reality, he was suppressing his true nature, and this repression was beginning to warp his psyche, sowing the seeds for future disaster.

At this moment, Li Tai, whom Li Chengqian regarded with deep suspicion, was out enjoying the Qujiang Pool with a group of scholars from Chang’an. They composed poetry, drank wine, and admired the flowers in the Hibiscus Garden, giving no thought to the current drought.

Li Tai’s sole focus was to consolidate his position among the literati, paying little heed to affairs of state. He also mingled with sons of noble families, who each year supplied him with considerable funds. As there were no business-minded talents among his followers, he relied heavily on these aristocratic youths for his finances. In this, he actually ran counter to Emperor Taizong’s political aims.

Emperor Taizong wished to weaken the clans, lest they monopolize too many resources and hinder the Tang’s development. But because Li Tai was beholden to those who provided for him, he naturally became a shield for their interests, using his influence to grant them many favors.

At this time, a young man from the Lu clan of Fanyang purchased several ice pops from a vendor and distributed them among the group. As he handed them out, he remarked to Li Tai, “Your Highness, the Prince of Jin is truly a marvel!”

Li Tai asked, “What do you mean by that?”

The man replied, “Ever since the method of making ice with saltpeter was invented, we’ve been able to enjoy cheap iced drinks even in this scorching summer!”

Li Tai frowned at these words and said, “Brother Lu, there’s no need to exaggerate. It’s just a minor trick—hardly the mark of a marvel.”