Volume One: Beneath Mount Zhongnan Chapter Thirty-One: The Butterfly Effect of Time Travel, Li the Second’s Disheartenment

Yet compared to Li Mingyu, Blackie’s fate was even more miserable. Once the king of beasts, he used to roam the mountains, summoning his kind with a single roar, reigning over his territory in utter freedom. But ever since Li Shimin arrived, Blackie’s days of glory were over.

Perhaps Li Shimin truly was destined to be the Son of Heaven, a true dragon whose innate aura subdued all living things. Or perhaps it was because he came straight from the battlefield, cloaked in the killing intent of countless wars. Animals are most sensitive to such things; otherwise, why would Blackie, a mighty tiger whose roar could shake every creature in the forest, cower at the mere sight of him? Reduced to a docile pet, Blackie dared not show the least defiance, constantly summoned and ordered about by Li Shimin, sometimes even receiving a kick or two, and still forced to put on the demeanor of a well-behaved housecat to please his master.

Being kept as a pet by Li Shimin was bad enough, but what truly made Blackie tremble with both fear and respect was Lady Zhangsun. She was fastidious about cleanliness. Although Blackie, influenced by Li Mingyu, bathed daily, the wild musk of a beast could never be fully washed away. Li Mingyu and his master were long accustomed to the scent, treating Blackie as a member of the family, allowing him to sleep on the bed or sprawl on the floor as he wished. But Lady Zhangsun could not tolerate this; she wished Blackie could be bathed eight times a day.

Indeed, only a true phoenix can be matched to a dragon.

Blackie feared Lady Zhangsun even more than Li Shimin. At the slightest glare from her almond-shaped eyes and a delicate hand pointing to the door, Blackie would lower his head and obediently amble out of the room, waiting in the courtyard for Lady Zhangsun to come bathe him. Her soft, skillful hands, adept at massage, made every bath a blissful experience for Blackie, who would squint in pleasure and hum contentedly, his rough tongue licking her hand, gentler than any housecat.

Li Mingyu could only purse his lips in exasperation. To think that the future empress of Tang was giving a tiger a bath with her own hands—what an honor! He himself had never enjoyed such treatment. Oh, Blackie, you’re a tiger, the king of all beasts! Where’s your dignity? What tiger needs so many baths a day? You might as well be a pampered housecat now.

One day, as Li Shimin was discussing martial arts and military strategy with Xuanba at home, Lady Zhangsun sat nearby with Li Mingyu in her arms. Li Shimin was a master of archery and horsemanship, his arrows never missing their mark, and a genius at warfare with strategies aplenty.

The brothers drank and talked with great enthusiasm, their conversation moving from martial prowess to the arrangement of troops and then to the art of war itself. Xuanba suddenly recalled the “special tactics” Mingyu had previously mentioned and relayed the details to Li Shimin.

Li Shimin was intrigued. After pondering for a while, he remarked, “It seems these special tactics have existed since ancient times, but Mingyu has summarized and refined them. This child truly is clever, learning from history and drawing such conclusions. Not easy at all. Special tactics are indeed useful; Mingyu has a talent for unconventional warfare. With careful nurture, he will surely achieve greatness.”

Li Mingyu, held by Lady Zhangsun as if he were still a child, felt aggrieved. Hearing his modern special tactics receive nothing more than a mere “not bad” from Li Shimin, he was dissatisfied and asked, “Second Uncle, do you think my tactics are only ‘not bad’?”

Li Shimin, undisturbed by Mingyu’s disgruntled tone, smiled and replied, “Yes, not bad. But your thinking is too one-sided. War cannot rely solely on unconventional troops. Remember, war is the nation’s greatest instrument, and the grand strategy is paramount. If my strength surpasses the enemy tenfold or a hundredfold, no matter how ingenious your schemes, they’re useless before absolute power. All it takes is the weight of Mount Tai to crush the foe. Righteousness breeds momentum, and momentum breeds might. Unconventional tactics are useful but not to be depended upon. In all battles, the regular is used to engage, the strange to win. The orthodox is the foundation; the unorthodox is secondary. Master the regular, surprise with the unorthodox—that is the true way.”

In his previous life, Li Mingyu had only been a special forces instructor, proficient in special tactics but not in large-scale military command—that was the realm of staff officers and commanders. Hearing Li Shimin’s exposition, he knew the man was right: regular and irregular tactics must complement each other. Still, he felt Li Shimin underestimated the role of special tactics and resolved to find a chance to prove his worth. Outwardly, he could only reply, “Yes, Second Uncle, your lesson is well taken.”

Xuanba nodded in agreement. “That’s right, Mingyu. Your second uncle is a master of strategy. You must carefully consider the logic behind his words.”

By now, Li Shimin was already a little tipsy. Though he knew Xuanba meant no mockery, he couldn’t help but recall his own youthful ambitions, only to suffer a crushing defeat for failing to command his generals. Most of his best-trained soldiers were lost, and the court was filled with harsh criticism. His elder brother even joined forces with the Guanzhong and Longxi aristocrats to suppress him. Filled with frustration, he sighed, “Let’s not mention this title anymore. Master of strategy? What master has ever suffered defeat?”

Xuanba tried to console him, “Don’t be discouraged, Second Brother. Victory and defeat are common in war.”

Yet Li Shimin seemed despondent. After repeated setbacks, his former ambition seemed to have evaporated with his latest failure. With deliberate bitterness, he said, “Third Brother, perhaps someday I’ll retire to these mountains and join you in seclusion.”

Li Mingyu, knowing the events that had led to this moment, was alarmed to hear Li Shimin talk of retreating to the mountains. This can’t be right—is this still Li Shimin? How could he become so disheartened after a single defeat, even considering hiding away in the mountains? Could it be that my arrival here has changed history? If so, the butterfly effect I’ve caused must be as mighty as a hurricane, powerful enough to sweep away the future glorious Emperor Taizong.

No, I have to persuade him. If Li Shimin retreats, whom can I rely on in the future? Should I throw myself at Li Jiancheng’s feet? But he and my master are mortal enemies—how could that be!

Struggling out of Lady Zhangsun’s arms, Li Mingyu leapt to the ground and said, “Second Uncle, how can you think this way? Master is right—victory and defeat are commonplace in war. I’ve heard that Emperor Gaozu Liu Bang of Han suffered seventy-two defeats, yet grew ever braver, and finally unified the land, founding the Han dynasty’s four-hundred-year legacy. Second Uncle, you’ve lost only once and it wasn’t even your fault. Why be disheartened now? Don’t judge a hero by one moment’s success or failure—there’s always another chance. Even Blackie knows this simple truth. When he was young, he lost to the wild boars in the mountains—tough-skinned, muscular, and fierce. He could not defeat them then, so he went back and trained hard, waiting until he grew stronger. Now, no matter how fierce the wild boar, it’s just his prey.”

Li Shimin glanced at Mingyu. “Oh? You know the story of Liu Bang? And Blackie? So, in your eyes, I’m not even as good as a tiger?”

Li Mingyu grinned obsequiously, refusing to rise to the bait, and pressed on, “Second Uncle has read extensively. Surely you know what Mencius said: ‘Therefore, when Heaven is about to place a great responsibility on a person, it first frustrates his mind and will, starves his body, exhausts his muscles and bones, and exposes him to poverty, thereby strengthening his resolve and increasing his capabilities.’”

Li Shimin mulled this over for a while, then burst out laughing. “Ha, you little rascal, trying to lecture me! Mencius was right, though you’ve mangled the quotation badly—missing words and phrases all over. It should be: ‘frustrates his mind, exhausts his muscles, starves his body… and by making him suffer, strengthens his resolve and patience.’ How many characters did you swallow?”

“Uh…” Mingyu was left speechless, his attempt at showing off thoroughly backfired.

Xuanba rapped him smartly on the head. “You imp! You don’t know enough to show off with literary quotations. Embarrassed yourself this time, didn’t you?”

Li Mingyu’s face burned with embarrassment, while Lady Zhangsun covered her mouth, hiding her laughter.

Unable to endure their teasing, Mingyu stiffened his expression. “I just misspoke! You’ll see—I’m not to be underestimated!” With that, he marched over to the desk, picked up a brush, and quickly wrote two bold lines. Tossing the brush aside, he said proudly to Li Shimin, “Second Uncle! I believe these two sayings are full of truth. Allow me to share them with you!”

Curious to see what he’d written so passionately, everyone gathered around. Li Shimin stared at the scrawled lines for a long time, unable to make sense of Mingyu’s chicken scratch.

Xuanba, who knew Mingyu best, scolded, “You never practice your writing when I tell you! Who can read this?”

After scolding his apprentice, Xuanba focused and finally managed to decipher: “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Break the cauldrons and sink the boats, and even the mighty Qin fortress can be conquered by Chu! Heaven rewards the persevering. Enduring hardship on a bed of sticks and tasting gall, three thousand Yue soldiers can devour Wu!”

Li Shimin turned the phrases over and over in his mind, growing more excited. He strode to the desk, picked up a brush, and rewrote the lines himself—his calligraphy powerful and fluid, the strokes like dragons and serpents, each character bold and vigorous. As he wrote, he said, “These words have great spirit—stories of Xiang Yu and Goujian. Your master said you have rare talent, able to draw wisdom from history. I was skeptical, but now I see it’s true!”

In no time, the two lines stood out vividly on the paper. Apparently pleased with his own handiwork, Li Shimin declared, “I’ll hang these words in the hall as a reminder, to never lose my courage and ambition!”

Xuanba, seeing his brother’s finished work, praised, “Second Brother, your brushwork has improved again—forceful yet graceful, with a hint of flying white, each stroke alive, like a dragon leaping from the sea. Paired with these stirring words, they complement each other perfectly.”

“Not at all. I was merely inspired by Mingyu’s passionate words. It poured out in one go. If you asked me to write it again, I might not capture the same spirit,” Li Shimin replied modestly.

Mingyu, watching the two brothers admire the calligraphy, leaned in as well. He knew little of the art, but even he could tell Li Shimin’s skill was leagues beyond his own. This is a true masterpiece by Emperor Taizong! If only I could keep it—imagine its value for posterity!

Just as he was about to ask for it, he felt a sudden pain in his ear—Lady Zhangsun had pinched it, scolding, “Your master says you always refuse to study or practice calligraphy, driving him to despair. Clearly, it’s true! Such a clever-looking child, yet your handwriting is crooked as a dog’s scratchings—hardly worthy of these famous maxims! From now on, I’ll personally supervise your practice every day. You may not reach your Second Uncle’s level, but you must at least be presentable!”