Chapter Twenty-Two: Daily Life

“Ah, I’m so bored!”

Beneath a large willow tree by the pond on the western outskirts, near the Hall of Letters, Li Kong leaned listlessly against the trunk, tossing a pebble into the water. The stone splashed down, sending ripples spreading outward in ever-widening circles.

The Turks had retreated. Li Ji was temporarily appointed Grand Commander of the Jingyang Expedition by Emperor Taizong, leading thirty thousand cavalry to oversee the full withdrawal of the Turks from the Hetao Plains. Behind him, Hou Junji followed closely with twenty thousand infantry, ready to take possession of Yanmen Pass, which had been occupied by the Turks for five years.

As for Tuli’s tribes—sixty-three thousand people in total, including Ashide Wumuchuo—the remaining thirty-seven thousand men would all be escorted into the Tang realm by Jieli within three months. And then there were the one hundred thousand Turkic women.

Though this made Jieli’s task of unifying Eastern Turkic lands much easier, the Tang Empire had gained immensely. After all, the entirety of Eastern Turkic numbered just over a million, less than two million in total. With this single move, Li Kong had taken more than a tenth of their population, and all of them were able-bodied men and marriageable women. Thanks to Li Kong, the Turks would not recover their peak strength for at least five years.

But while the Turks struggled to recover, the Tang Empire would only continue to develop. Five years was more than enough for the Tang to consolidate and reorganize; the Turks were bound to lose in the end.

Moreover, Li Kong had reclaimed the whole Hetao Plains. If the Tang raised a herd of warhorses there, in five years, producing a cavalry force of one hundred thousand would not be out of reach. Most importantly, Li Kong still held an ace up his sleeve—a devastating weapon for cavalry that he had yet to reveal.

With the war over, the greatest contributor, Li Kong, was promptly kicked back to the Hall of Letters by Emperor Taizong, and not a word was said about rewards. Li Kong had grumbled countless times about the emperor’s stinginess.

Of course, he was only grumbling a little. He trusted the emperor’s character, and his achievements this time had greatly improved his standing with the military. As the backbone of the Tang army was slowly aging, Li Kong, a young man, was likely to become a leader of the new generation. His reward would not vanish into thin air—he felt certain of that.

“Hey, there you are. Class is about to start. Aren’t you coming?” Suddenly, a clear, lively voice called out.

Turning his head, he saw Li Lizhi and an unfamiliar, pretty maid.

He sprang to his feet, brushing dust from his clothes, and smiled, “Just bored, that’s all. We didn’t have class yesterday either. Besides, sitting through class now is almost as bad as being killed.”

He couldn’t help but let a wry smile slip as he finished.

Li Lizhi looked puzzled, but the maid beside her burst out laughing, “How can you say that? If Confucius knew, he’d have you punished!”

Li Kong scoffed, “That old man? He wouldn’t dare discipline me. Isn’t he afraid I’ll talk back to him?”

The young maid froze. She hadn’t been present the day Li Kong had brazenly challenged Kong Yingda, nor had she witnessed his second confrontation at the Palace of Sweet Dew, so she knew nothing of his ‘legendary reputation.’

Li Lizhi rolled her eyes at him in mock annoyance. “Enough. This is Xue Yan, daughter of Prince Daozong. She’s my best friend, so don’t you dare bully her.”

Li Kong blinked. Li Xueyan? Prince Daozong’s daughter? He’d never heard of her.

But what caught his attention was the way Li Lizhi spoke to him—as if she were a young wife speaking naturally to her husband. It felt almost too intimate.

Could it be this girl had fallen for him? Li Kong stroked his chin, a little self-satisfied at the thought.

Though Li Lizhi had matured early and received a courtly education, matters of the heart were still a mystery to her. She simply felt this was how she ought to speak with Li Kong; anything more formal felt awkward. Yet, instinctively, a blush crept across her cheeks after she spoke.

Li Xueyan pouted, “Watching the two of you act so lovey-dovey, I can hardly stand it. Come on, Sister Changle, we have to get to class or the teacher will make us kneel for punishment.”

Li Lizhi nodded, then glanced at Li Kong. She said nothing, but her hopeful gaze left him unable to refuse.

He silently cursed the heavens, then sighed in defeat, “Alright, let’s go.”

Just then, Li Lizhi remembered Xue Yan’s earlier words. Noticing the look in Li Kong’s eyes, she became so flustered that she tapped Xue Yan on the arm in embarrassment, whispering, “What nonsense are you saying? If you keep this up, I’ll ignore you in the future.”

With that, she darted away toward the classroom like a startled rabbit.

Li Xueyan giggled and followed closely behind, leaving Li Kong in their wake. As for Li Kong, he was actually grateful—though he’d never really been in love, he knew the value of a helpful ‘wingman.’ Xue Yan’s well-timed remark had been a masterstroke, and what pleased him most was that Li Lizhi hadn’t objected; her words of protest had been tinged more with shyness than true disapproval.

Though she was only eight years old, in an era when girls married at twelve and bore children at thirteen or fourteen, she was already at a dangerous age.

So, though Li Kong yearned for a slow courtship, he knew that with Li Lizhi destined to be betrothed to Zhangsun Chong by imperial decree next year, there was no time to lose. He couldn’t afford to worry about her age—he had to act now.

In the classroom, the drone of reading aloud continued endlessly. There were no explanations, no recitations—just Kong Yingda’s elderly voice, droning on like a lullaby, nearly putting Li Kong to sleep.

He kept his eyes fixed on Li Lizhi in the seat ahead to his left, drawing just enough spirit to resist the growing tide of drowsiness.

Before he knew it, a numb ache rose from his knees. Only then did he remember his plan to make chairs and desks. He smacked his forehead in annoyance, shifted to a new cross-legged position, and began massaging his knees, finally feeling some relief.

Kong Yingda glared at him, eyes bloodshot, his beard quivering in fury. When Li Kong finally stopped moving, Kong Yingda could no longer hold back and roared, “Li Kong, get out!”

Li Kong looked up at him. “Why?”

The students were stunned.

As for Kong Yingda, he seemed to lose his mind entirely, the word “Why?” echoing endlessly in his head.