Chapter 41: Anecdotes on the March

The Longguan Pass wound across the vast, expansive landscape like an ancient, slumbering dragon.

Constructed as far back as the Han dynasty, this route bore the heavy scars of history as it stretched all the way into the Tang era.

On either side of the road lay rolling ranges of mountains, their vegetation painted in varying shades of green through the baptism of passing years, resembling a mottled masterpiece crafted by nature itself.

Occasionally, a bird would dart across the mountain spaces, its crisp, clear cry shattering the heavy silence of the marching route.

Li Shimin rode on horseback, his gaze sweeping over scenery that was both familiar and strange, while a complex tide of emotions surged within his chest.

This Longguan Pass had witnessed the rise and fall, the glory and humiliation of the Great Tang. Every single stone and blade of grass seemed to be whispering stories of the past.

Li Shimin understood profoundly just how crucial this route was for military operations and national communication. Every improvement made to the transport infrastructure and post stations felt like laying another brick toward the prosperity of the Great Tang.

Every single decision he made carried the weight of his responsibility toward the nation and its people. He hoped that under his governance, the Great Tang would remain resilient and enduring—just like the Longguan Pass—connecting all directions and bringing blessings to the common folk.

Now, the transport facilities and relay stations, once somewhat rudimentary, had taken on a completely new look.

Sturdy bridges spanned the babbling brooks, and the relay station buildings had been repaired until they were neat and solid, as if silently expressing a welcome to passing travelers.

Though the overall distance of the road had not changed much since Han times, the convenience and safety of the journey had been vastly enhanced.

This made the route a beloved favorite among scholars and poets, who traveled along it either to pause and admire the scenery or to chant poetry and express their sentiments, leaving behind countless timeless literary masterpieces.

Thinking of this, a trace of pride naturally swelled within Li Shimin. This was a blessing he had forged for the people of the Tang, a monument to his achievements as an emperor, and a tapestry of culture and prosperity he had woven for the nation.

At this moment, the grand army was advancing majestically along the Longguan Pass toward Liangzhou.

The scorching sun hung high in the sky, mercilessly roasting the earth, and the air was filled with a stifling heat.

The soldiers' armor flashed with a metallic luster under the sunlight. Sweat seeped from their foreheads, trickled down their cheeks, gathered into droplets at their chins, and finally fell onto the dry soil.

Riding on horseback, Li Shimin's forehead was also covered in a fine layer of sweat. He raised a hand to wipe it, finding that the moisture had already soaked his cuffs.

He pulled out his canteen, tilted his head back, and took two large gulps of water.

The water slid down his throat, bringing a rare trace of coolness. In the midst of this sweltering march, the water in the canteen tasted exceptionally pure and sweet, like gentle rain in a desert.

Li Shimin secretly congratulated himself on the army's thorough preparations before departure, while also feeling a pang of heartache for the soldiers marching under such blistering heat.

Watching the soldiers drenched in sweat, he felt as though his heart were being scorched in a frying pan.

He knew deeply that these soldiers were the backbone of the Great Tang; it was their loyalty and bravery that defended the empire's borders.

In his mind, he constantly debated whether he should ask Li Ji to adjust the marching hours to reduce the risk of heatstroke among the men, yet he feared that such an adjustment might disrupt the campaign schedule and miss military opportunities, leaving him deeply conflicted.

Every single decision concerned the lives of countless individuals and the fortune of the nation. He felt as though he were walking a tightrope, forced to proceed with the utmost caution.

"Li Ji, where are we now?" Li Shimin asked, turning to Li Ji, whose clothes were likewise soaked through with sweat. His voice was somewhat hoarse, laden with the fatigue of the march.

In truth, he had a rough idea of their location on the route; he had traveled this road no fewer than five times.

Yet he still wanted to hear Li Ji confirm it—a cautious habit he had cultivated over many years as an emperor.

He knew that in warfare, the slightest oversight could lead to catastrophic consequences, which was why every detail had to be repeatedly verified.

His gaze remained fixed on Li Ji, revealing an eager anticipation for the answer and a total focus on the march.

"Your Majesty, the army is about to reach Qingshui. Once we pass Qingshui, we will be out of Shaanxi Circuit."

Li Ji replied respectfully, his eyes fixed firmly ahead, reflecting a deep familiarity with the route.

Li Ji knew well that the responsibility resting on this campaign was immense and that not a single step could go wrong. Therefore, he remained constantly vigilant, determined to live up to the Crown Prince's massive military expenditures.

Silently, he retraced the campaign route map in his mind, checking for any missed details.

Every landmark and every stretch of road was crystal clear in his mind. He knew he carried the Emperor's trust and the soldiers' lives on his shoulders, allowing for not the slightest slackness.

Li Shimin nodded slightly, though a deep sense of emotion stirred within him.

Over the past twenty days of marching, he had keenly felt that he was indeed no longer as young as he used to be.

Although spending long hours in the saddle every day had not chafed his skin raw, each time he rested, he could see that the inner sides of his thighs were stark red, burning as though licked by fire.

Looking at his red and swollen thighs, a trace of helpless resignation washed over him. Time spares no one; the tireless warrior who once galloped across the four quarters seemed to be gradually fading away into the distance.

He felt a sense of powerlessness spreading from the depths of his heart. Emperor though he was, he could not resist the erosion of time.

Surrounding him were temporary encampments, their tents fluttering slightly in the wind. Wisps of blue smoke still curled from the campfires outside, remnants of the soldiers boiling water and cooking meals.

Scattered footprints and horseshoe prints marred the ground, bearing witness to the bustling passage of the grand army.

Gazing upon all this, he understood the hardships of war, but for the sake of the Great Tang's stability, he could not afford the slightest retreat.

He told himself that even if his physical body was not what it used to be, his willpower had to remain as hard as iron. For the sake of the Tang people and the dignity of the nation, he must persevere.

Every pang of pain was a test of his will; he would conquer these physical discomforts just as he conquered his enemies.

Yet, for this expedition, Li Chengqian had made exceptionally thorough preparations. A wave of gratification washed over Li Shimin at his son's attentiveness, bolstering his confidence in the campaign.

He knew his son had put immense effort into supporting this expedition from the rear, which gave him the comforting assurance that the future of the dynasty was in capable hands.

The army was equipped with all sorts of novel medicines, neatly arranged in the military doctors' chests, emitting a faint, soothing medicinal fragrance.

Furthermore, there was a detachment of military doctors sent from Xianyang. Their tents stood in a quiet corner of the camp, enveloped in an unusual stillness.

Usually taciturn, these military doctors were utterly absorbed in studying those medicines. Their tables were crowded with bottles, jars, and various herbs, as if that little space was their entire world.

Li Shimin had had a brief encounter with them earlier, and from that short exchange alone, he had keenly perceived that their medical skills might well surpass those of the imperial physicians in the palace.

At the time, he had already plotted in his mind: since these military doctors possessed genuine skill, he must ensure Chengqian utilized them properly in the future to cultivate more medical talent for the Great Tang.

On second thought, however, he realized he was overthinking it. Chengqian was so clever; the medical standards of Xianyang's officials had probably already reached a brand-new height.

The Great Tang needed such talent; they could save the lives of countless soldiers and make the imperial army even stronger.

Outside the doctors' tents, a few wildflowers of unknown species swayed in the wind, adding a touch of vitality to these mysterious healers.

Gazing at those wildflowers, Li Shimin felt they were just like these military doctors—unassuming, yet possessing a unique and irreplaceable value.

Throughout twenty days of marching, astonishingly, not a single soldier had dropped behind due to illness—something previously unthinkable.

Take Li Shimin himself, for instance: the friction from horseback riding had left the inner sides of his thighs red and swollen, a minor issue he would normally have simply gritted his teeth and endured in the past.

To his surprise, Cheng Qingjin had noticed his discomfort and covertly brought a Xianyang military doctor to examine him.

Seeing Cheng Yaojin looking out for him, a warm feeling welled up in Li Shimin's chest. This Cheng Yaojin was always so delightfully stubborn and simple-hearted.

He knew Cheng Yaojin cared for him sincerely; such brotherly affection was especially precious amidst the cruelty of a military campaign.

The military doctor had merely glanced at the injury, pulled a small box of cooling ointment from his medicine chest, tossed it to Li Shimin, and turned away. His hurried footsteps made a faint rustling sound on the grass outside the tent.

Only after walking a few paces did he toss back a sentence: "Three times a day, apply until healed."

Li Shimin was somewhat taken aback by the doctor's indifferent attitude, but he felt an even greater anticipation for the ointment's efficacy.

Perhaps people with real talent all had their own eccentricities; as long as they could heal the sick and save lives, a cold attitude was not all that important.

He looked at the cooling ointment in his hand, hoping it would be as miraculous as the doctor claimed and alleviate his pain.

Unlike emperors of the past and present, Li Shimin possessed an extraordinary capacity for tolerance, especially appreciating those who were both temperamental and capable.

Take a minister like Wei Zheng: in any other dynasty, he would long have been executed and his entire clan wiped out simply for stepping with his left foot first on some morning. Yet Li Shimin could tolerate and heavily employ him.

He had always believed that for a nation to flourish, it required the concerted efforts of talented individuals with diverse personalities.

He knew profoundly that as an emperor, he must not be swayed by his personal preferences and prejudices; he needed to be adept at discovering the shining points in everyone and letting them serve the country.

Li Shimin was akin to the kind of wise leader whom subordinates would follow with absolute devotion.

Far from being angry at this somewhat ill-tempered military doctor, he found his curiosity piqued all the more by the medicine's effectiveness.

If the ointment worked, it would be a stroke of immense fortune. If it failed, there was no need to place blame, for even healers had their off days.

At most, he would offer a gentle admonition, encouraging the man not to be so rash in the future, to approach his duties with humility, and to strive for even greater excellence.

He hoped to foster an atmosphere of tolerance and encouraged innovation within the Great Tang, ensuring a continuous stream of talent.

This was the primary reason why Li Shimin was able to win the hearts of various ethnic groups; his magnanimity inspired genuine admiration and submission.

Only with a boundless heart could the Great Tang become a truly golden era, one that people of all tribes willingly wished to join.

At this moment, although Li Shimin was marching merely as one of Li Ji's personal guards rather than as the Emperor, he still deeply admired the military doctor's decisive demeanor.

Within an army, one needed precisely such efficient physicians who did not drag their feet.

With a smile, he opened the jar of cooling ointment. A wave of crisp, chilly fragrance rushed straight into his nostrils, carrying the damp mist of a mountain morning and instantly making him feel refreshed.

Around him, soldiers were polishing their weapons and packing their gear, punctuated by the occasional murmur of low conversation, but Li Shimin's attention was entirely focused on the ointment.

His heart was filled with pleasant surprise, hoping the remedy would quickly relieve his pain and allow him to continue the march with ease.

If this cooling ointment proved truly remarkable, it must be distributed throughout the entire army so that more soldiers could benefit.

Only, he wondered what it cost to manufacture?

As he looked at the ointment, he saw not only the hope of easing the soldiers' suffering but also a guarantee for a smooth march.

"Yaojin, this medicine is a fine treasure indeed!"

Li Shimin praised sincerely. Just inhaling the medicinal scent made him feel certain it would soothe the discomfort between his thighs.

He cast an appreciative glance at Cheng Yaojin; had the man not fetched the doctor, he might still be foolishly enduring the agony.

He knew that beneath Cheng Yaojin's boorish exterior lay a heart of pure loyalty—a devotion exceedingly rare amidst the complex environment of courts and battlefields.

He silently noted down Cheng Yaojin's gesture of goodwill, resolving to have Chengqian reward him handsomely later.

Cheng Yaojin flashed a wide, cheeky grin. "Of course, Your Majesty! You have no idea how delicate the lads in our army have become.

"Back when we didn't have wondrous things like this, everyone just had to grin and bear it. But now? Goodness me, even if their armor gives them the slightest chafe, the fellows sprint straight to the medics for a box of this cooling ointment."

His motive was simple: being able to share the Emperor's burdens was his highest honor.

Besides, the ointment genuinely worked wonders, and he wanted more people to know about it.

"As for its effectiveness, needless to say—old Cheng has used it himself. You slap it on, and it's cool and refreshing; the relief is just indescribable!"

Cheng Yaojin gestured vividly as he spoke, his face beaming with satisfaction, proud of having discovered such a marvel.

Though lacking in scholarly refinement, Cheng Yaojin could always lend a hand in such practical matters. Making the Emperor and the soldiers feel more comfortable gave him a profound sense of accomplishment.

Hearing Cheng Yaojin's words, Li Shimin's curiosity regarding the ointment grew even stronger.

He gently applied the balm to the chafed, reddened skin. Sure enough, a wave of cool relief rapidly spread outward, instantly enveloping the burning, irritated area and subduing the fiery pain and discomfort.

A gentle breeze swept across the camp, carrying a trace of coolness that brushed against the spot where Li Shimin had applied the balm, as if cheering for its miraculous effect.

Li Shimin let out a long breath, feeling as though he had regained his strength and renewing his confidence for the remainder of the march.

With such a marvelous remedy at hand, he figured the soldiers' combat effectiveness would surely rise, adding a few more layers of certainty to this expedition.

"A marvelous thing indeed. Tonight, I shall finally have a good night's sleep."

Because of the chafing on his thighs, Li Shimin had not enjoyed a single night of peaceful slumber in days.

Looking at the clean cot inside his tent, it suddenly appeared infinitely cozy, as if it were the most comfortable place in the world.

He craved a sound sleep to restore his vigor.

Only by maintaining his own good condition could he persist until the end of this campaign.

Imagining how comfortably he would lie in bed that night, free from the torment of pain, filled him with anticipation.

Though the camp cot could not compare to the dragon bed in the palace, at this moment, it looked irresistibly enticing to Li Shimin.

Amidst the hardships of this march, a peaceful night's sleep was a rare luxury, and he was determined to cherish it.

Seeing Li Shimin prepare for bed, Cheng Yaojin hurried forward and tugged at his sleeve.

"Your Majesty, wait a moment! The sun hasn't even set yet, don't go to sleep just yet!" Cheng Yaojin's movements were somewhat eager, his grip so strong he almost pulled Li Shimin off balance.

On a military march, barring emergencies, everyone simply ate their evening meal and went straight to sleep,
before rising again at three or four in the morning to resume the march.

He could not let the Emperor drift off just like that; he simply had to tell him about this.

He felt that the secret he had uncovered could not possibly wait until tomorrow, or he would lie awake all night tossing and turning.

He was dying to share it with Li Shimin, hoping to win the Emperor's backing.

Caught by Cheng Yaojin, Li Shimin looked at him with a bewildered expression. "What is it, Yaojin? Is there something else?"

Li Shimin frowned slightly, his eyes revealing a trace of inquiry. Fatigued as he was, he could not fathom what else Cheng Yaojin could possibly want.

The man was getting older; why was he still so full of boundless energy?

Right now, his heart's sole desire was to sleep and shake off his physical exhaustion. Yet seeing how urgent Cheng Yaojin looked, he curbed his impatience and waited to hear what the man had to say.

Glancing around to ensure no one was listening, Cheng Yaojin lowered his voice and spoke with a furtive air.

"Your Majesty, when I went to the medical tent just now to fetch the cooling ointment, I discovered something terribly interesting! Those military doctors from Xianyang aren't eating the same food as the rest of us!"

Cheng Yaojin spoke in a whisper, but his tone was brimming with mystery. He figured this matter shouldn't be broadcast too widely.

At least for now, it would remain a little secret shared exclusively between him and the Emperor.

Hearing this, Li Shimin was momentarily stunned, and then burst into hearty laughter.

"You're a seasoned veteran in the army; naturally, military doctors eat a tier better than ordinary soldiers. What's so strange about that? On a march, as long as you're full, you shouldn't demand too much."

Li Shimin genuinely felt this was nothing to make a fuss about. He glanced around, noticing soldiers preparing their evening meals. Wisps of smoke curled upward, and the air was rich with the scent of roasted sweet potatoes and corn.

The soldiers' diet during this march had already left him exceedingly satisfied.

Making sure the men were well-fed and possessed the strength to march and fight was the most important thing of all.

Amidst the hardships of campaigning, having such provisions was a rare blessing indeed.

The soldiers could feel the imperial court's care for them, inspiring them to fight fiercely for the Great Tang.

Every single meal featured sweet roasted sweet potatoes, golden roasted corn, a steaming bowl of millet porridge, and a thick, solid steamed bun.

For many common soldiers, such fare surpassed what they ate at home.

Of course, marching now in the guise of Li Ji's personal guard, Li Shimin enjoyed no special privileges; his own rations merely included one extra steamed bun compared to the ordinary soldiers.

Even with just that, far from merely being full, he felt stuffed to the brim.

There were leftovers after every meal, but nothing went to waste; they were handed out to the soldiers whose stomachs still rumbled.

Such generous treatment fostered a deeper sense of belonging among the troops, making them all the more willing to shed blood for the Tang.

Surrounding the campfires, soldiers sat together, eating their food and chatting with smiles, a scene radiating warmth and contentment.

Watching this, Li Shimin felt deeply gratified. He hoped such scenes would become a regular fixture in the army, allowing the troops to feel the warmth of home even amidst the cruelty of war.

Seeing Li Shimin's nonchalant reaction, Cheng Yaojin grew anxious on the spot.

"Your Majesty, if it were just ordinary food, old Cheng certainly wouldn't have come to bother you with it!"

He stamped his feet in agitation, kicking up a flurry of dust.

"Do you even know what those military doctors are eating, Your Majesty?"

Cheng Yaojin's eyes widened, his face etched with eagerness.

Seeing Cheng Yaojin so worked up, Li Shimin's curiosity was instantly piqued.

"Well then, enlighten me. What on earth are they eating?"

Li Shimin leaned closer to Cheng Yaojin, a glimmer of amusement and inquisitiveness flashing in his eyes.

He thought to himself: Cheng Yaojin was so stirred up—could the doctors possibly be dining on exotic delicacies?

Knowing Cheng Yaojin was a straightforward man who wouldn't make a mountain out of a molehill over trivial matters, he grew all the more curious about this secret.

His mind raced through various possibilities, from broths brewed with precious herbs to rare meats, conjuring up visions of endless culinary delights.

Cheng Yaojin leaned in and whispered close to Li Shimin, his voice dropping until it sounded like the buzzing of a mosquito, yet Li Shimin caught every word clearly.

"Are you serious? They're eating hotpot?" Li Shimin's face registered sheer disbelief, his eyes widening in shock.

In his mind's eye flashed the scene of the four of them gathered around a hotpot devouring everything in sight. That steaming hotpot felt utterly out of place amidst the rugged environment of a military expedition.

He felt a mixture of surprise and envy; he had not expected the Xianyang military doctors to enjoy such luxury.

Seeing the look on Li Shimin's face, Cheng Yaojin assumed the Emperor doubted him.

He immediately slapped his own chest.

"Your Majesty, that scent of hotpot! Could I ever forget it? It's something I've been dreaming of day and night. I only had to catch a single whiff to know it was hotpot!"

As he spoke, Cheng Yaojin swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as if the aroma of the hotpot were still lingering at the tip of his nose.

"The folks from Xianyang are all direct subordinates of the Crown Prince; it's only natural they get a few nice perks!"

"Li Ji that rascal is the commander-in-chief this time. Your Majesty, see if you can have him put in a word, and maybe we can scrape some portions over here? My cravings are acting up terribly—just enough to scratch the itch would be plenty!"

Cheng Yaojin gestured with his hands to describe the hotpot, his eyes brimming with longing.

His mind was completely consumed by thoughts of the delicious broth. He figured that if he could just have one bite, all the fatigue of the march would vanish instantly.

Li Shimin had initially intended to let the matter rest, but seeing Cheng Yaojin's ravenous expression, his own appetite was suddenly awakened.

He thought to himself: how delightful would it be to enjoy a hotpot right in the middle of a military campaign?

The vision of the boiling broth, the abundant ingredients, and the food churning in the pot bloomed vividly in his mind.

Indulging in such a feast occasionally during this arduous march would truly be one of life's greatest pleasures!

"Very well, I shall humor you this once. Come, let's go find Li Ji!"

With that, Li Shimin strode off with Cheng Yaojin toward the commander's tent.