roccoschili Chapter 77 The Shocked Emperor and Empress
Chapter 77 The Shocked Emperor and Empress
Wang Zhi glanced at the silver ingots, didn't refuse, and nodded to accept them. He turned and went back into the house, taking out two coarse linen bags, one thick and one thin.
"The thick packet is a new prescription for the lady, with Codonopsis pilosula and Astragalus membranaceus, and a little Panax notoginseng. It is more gentle than the previous prescription with Ophiopogon japonicus and Adenophora stricta. It should be decocted and taken after autumn, one cup in the morning and one cup in the evening."
He handed the small package to Li Shimin, saying, "This small package is for Master Li. It contains wild tea that I roasted myself, and there isn't much left."
Brew it as I previously described, without adding any seasonings. Discard the first brew as a rinse, and start drinking from the second brew onwards. You can add water four or five times.
He paused briefly, his tone becoming more serious: "There is another matter. The abdominal breathing technique that you have learned must be practiced every day."
The efficacy of this method surpasses that of any medicine—the power of medicine is only three-tenths, the remaining seven-tenths depends entirely on daily care. Madam, please remember not to overwork yourself; emotional distress is most detrimental to qi-related ailments.
Empress Zhangsun felt a warmth in her heart upon hearing this and nodded slightly: "I have remembered what you said, Young Master Wang."
The family boarded the car. Sizi leaned against the back window, waving her little hand at Wang Zhihuan, and saying goodbye to each of the cats, dogs, chickens, and geese in the yard.
Just before getting on the train, Chengyang finally mustered up her courage and asked softly, "Brother, next time... can you come again?" Wang Zhi smiled at her and nodded.
Li Zhi was the last to board the carriage. Before stepping onto the carriage shaft, he glanced back at Wang Zhihuan with a calm gaze, as if performing a silent salute.
The donkey cart swayed along the official road, gradually disappearing into the distance, leaving only shallow hoofprints and the aroma of tea carried on the wind.
Wang Zhi stood at the courtyard gate watching the car disappear into the distant mulberry grove before carefully putting the tea set into a wooden tray. Passing a stone bench, he casually ruffled Little Black's hair, and Ah Huang rubbed against his leg, refusing to leave.
He poured himself another pot of water, brewed himself a fresh cup of tea, and sat down under the jujube tree. Ah Huang nestled at his feet, while Hui Hui jumped onto his lap and curled up in a ball.
He gently stroked the cat's back, his gaze falling on the stone table—the piece of paper with a diagonal mark from the charcoal stick was still pressed under the tea tray.
All that I have just said is simply looking back from the perspective of later generations. The problems of the equal-field system and the abuses of the militia system did not fully manifest themselves in historical records until decades later.
He simply laid out the key points and connections, just like his grandfather used to teach him how to watch the fire in the kitchen—if the fire is too strong, the bottom of the pot will burn easily; if the fire is too weak, the rice will not cook properly. Governing a country and farming are, in some fundamental ways, similar.
As for Xuanwu Gate, it was his own idea, but he had no other choice. Of course, the reason he dared to speak of it was because he didn't know Master Li's identity; if he did, he probably wouldn't be able to sleep soundly for several nights.
He downed the herbal tea in one gulp, folded the paper, pressed it back down on the plate, and got up to go to the kitchen to wash the rice. He wanted to steam a perch for dinner; Old Zhang had caught it in the stream yesterday and was still keeping it in a water tank.
In the distance, on the official road, donkey carts swayed and wobbled. The setting sun bathed the mulberry trees along the roadside in a warm golden hue.
Inside the carriage, Li Shimin sat on the hard wooden crossbar, stroking the coarse hemp tea bag in his hand, his fingertips repeatedly feeling the roughness of the hemp threads.
Empress Zhangsun leaned against a soft cushion, the baby in her arms fast asleep.
Li Zhi sat quietly to one side, holding a thin blade of grass in his hand—he had secretly picked it up from under the stone bench where Xiao Hei used to play, and had somehow slipped it into his sleeve.
Chang Le sat beside her mother, holding a small cloth bag of Poria cocos in her arms.
"What are you all thinking?" Empress Zhangsun asked softly.
Li Shimin did not answer immediately. He placed the tea bag on his lap and gazed at the setting sun outside the window. The croaking of frogs began in the rice paddies beside the road, and wisps of smoke rose from distant chimneys.
"I've been thinking," he began slowly, tapping his fingers lightly on the tea bag, "that someone who can speak to me so clearly—"
He paused, "No more than three. Fang Xuanling is one, and Wei Zheng is another. But when they spoke to me, they both had a certain 'style'—Fang Xuanling embodied the integrity of a scholar, while Wei Zheng embodied the demeanor of an advisor."
Only this boy is utterly unreliable. When he speaks of "wise rulers throughout the ages," it's no different from saying "tea grows bitter when it cools."
Empress Zhangsun gently patted the baby in her arms and smiled, saying, "Young Master Wang is unaware of our identities. But that's precisely why it's so interesting."
Today, I watched him pour tea for Zhinu and Chengyang as if he were treating a neighbor's child; when he took my pulse, his focus was neither like that of a royal physician nor like that of a traveling doctor.
He said, "Madam, please do not overwork yourself"—the imperial physicians had said this countless times, but hearing it from him carried a different weight.
"They are different." Li Shimin leaned against the carriage wall, placing the wild tea bag on his lap. "When he spoke of Xuanwu Gate, his tone was no different from when he was discussing the art of tea."
There is no avoidance, no accusation, and no defense. We simply lay things out and explain them clearly.
I don't hear such words in court, nor do I hear them from my old comrades. They don't mention them because they fear it will trouble me.
But some things, the less they are mentioned, the more stagnant they become. Therefore, truly understanding the affairs of ordinary people is of great benefit; as the saying goes, water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize it.
He looked down at the tea bag on his lap, which contained wild tea that the young man had personally roasted.
The boy said that the first brew must be discarded, and the flavor can only be obtained from the second brew.
Today's trip was largely about that first brew. What was poured away were empty formalities and tests; what remained was the true essence of tea.
A moment of silence fell over the carriage. Li Zhi suddenly spoke, his voice low: "Father, what Wang Langjun said about population and land... will it really come to pass?"
Li Shimin turned to look at his usually quiet youngest son, somewhat surprised.
He reached out and ruffled Li Zhi's hair: "He was talking about things decades from now. But the logic is sound—the population is increasing daily, but the land area is limited."
This affliction may not occur during my reign, but future generations will inevitably face it.
Li Zhi nodded and didn't ask any further questions. He looked down at the blade of grass in his hand and gently turned it.
A gentle evening breeze stirred the carriage curtains, carrying the fresh scent of rice paddies and the delicate fragrance of mulberry leaves. At the end of the official road, the outline of Chang'an gradually came into view in the twilight, and the lanterns on the city gate towers lit up one after another.
Wang Zhi was still sitting in the courtyard. The jujube leaves rustled for a while, then fell silent again.
He bent down and kicked the half-eaten straw sandal that Ah Huang had left behind into the corner of the wall. Just as he was about to go back into the house, a very soft notification sound suddenly rang in his mind.
The sound was neither crisp nor loud, like a small pebble being thrown into a deep pool, sinking with a thud.
[System Prompt: The host uses the philosophy of tea to discuss governance, and uses the essence of tea to dispel empty rhetoric. Before a noble person, the host frankly points out hidden dangers in national policy, saying what others dare not say, and all that is said is for the long-term benefit of the nation, not for personal gain. Such magnanimity and insight benefit the world and are of profound merit. Merit points +1000.]
Wang Zhihuan stood under the jujube tree, watching the words slowly fade away and then disappear into the night.
One thousand points. That's a significant increase since I recited that farmer's poem by the rice paddies last time. The system probably thinks that discussing tea ceremony and governance with a VIP is more valuable than discussing rice stalks.
He picked Grey off his lap, patted the cat hair off his clothes, and turned to go back inside.
Merit points just ran out, and now they're back. These things are like money; you have to use them when you need to, and you can't become their slave.