Chapter 82: The Envoy from Tubo

The next morning, after finishing her practice, Li Yuechen took a bath, ate a simple lunch, and then headed to the glass workshop with Fulai.

Most of the work at the workshop currently involved firing glass tiles, predominantly green in color. As soon as she entered the workspace, Li Yuechen was greeted by a wave of heat; it felt much like the smithy in the Artisans' Bureau, the temperature soaring as if she had stepped into a sauna.

Inside, several craftsmen, their upper bodies bare, stood before the glowing furnaces, retrieving finished glass pieces and gradually shaping them into tiles.

The Deputy Supervisor from the Minor Treasury, who accompanied Li Yuechen, seemed somewhat uncomfortable. “Your Highness, the air here is oppressive. Perhaps it would be better to wait outside?”

“Very well,” Li Yuechen nodded. After a brief stay inside, she was already starting to sweat.

Once outside, Li Yuechen seated herself. “Could you summon a few glass craftsmen?”

The Deputy Supervisor bowed. “As you wish, Your Highness. Please wait here a moment.”

Shortly thereafter, a few craftsmen—now clothed—were brought before her. Although rumors among the artisans had long portrayed this princess as gentle and easy to get along with, facing her in person still made them a bit tense.

Li Yuechen smiled. “No need to be nervous. I am here today simply to ask: can glass be made into other shapes?”

The eldest craftsman thought carefully before replying, “Your Highness, if the shapes are relatively simple, it is not difficult.”

“The shapes are indeed simple, but the precision required is somewhat troublesome,” Li Yuechen said with a smile, beckoning Fulai forward.

Fulai nodded and stepped forward, placing the bag he carried before the craftsmen.

“Try to see if you can incorporate this material into the glass-making process,” Li Yuechen instructed. “Experiment with the proportions yourselves and see if you can produce transparent glass.”

The craftsmen glanced down, then looked up, astonished. “Your Highness, does adding this material allow for transparent glass?”

“I am not sure myself,” Li Yuechen shook her head. “You may try as you wish. Even if it fails, I will not punish you. But if you succeed, there will be generous rewards!”

...

Leaving the glass workshop, Fulai asked uncertainly, “Your Highness, are you confident this will work?”

“If I were certain, I wouldn’t ask them to experiment,” Li Yuechen replied with a smile.

She truly wasn’t sure—she wasn’t even certain if the material in her hand was actually manganese ore. But it didn’t matter; experience would yield truth.

After a few days of testing, the results would be clear. The batch of stones was small—using them up would take only a few days. Three to five days should suffice to see an outcome.

Li Yuechen then hurried off to the Artisans' Bureau to observe their progress with the carriage. This was the most urgent matter; it needed to be ready before Li Zhi’s birthday.

It must be said, the craftsmen at the Artisans’ Bureau were impressively efficient. In just two days, they had already fashioned a leaf spring out of bamboo strips.

When Li Yuechen arrived, she saw the leaf spring placed atop two wooden blocks and nodded approvingly.

She then jumped in place, landing steadily atop the spring.

Fulai, startled, was about to rush forward to support her, but saw her standing firmly as if on solid ground.

Witnessing this, Fulai was amazed—no wonder the princess ran so effortlessly the other day; her balance was extraordinary.

The leaf spring was only two or three inches wide—not even as broad as a palm. But for Li Yuechen, it wasn’t particularly narrow.

She was used to parkour, often needing to leap and land steadily on circular handrails less than two centimeters in diameter.

The spring beneath her feet flexed satisfactorily. Li Yuechen pressed down with her legs, bouncing twice.

She could feel some distinct elasticity, though as a child, her weight wasn’t much.

How much resilience would remain once it was mounted on the carriage frame—that was uncertain.

“All right, install it and test it,” Li Yuechen said, hopping off the spring and nodding.

Four would be installed on the carriage; combined with leather tires, perhaps they’d achieve a decent shock-absorbing effect.

...

Time flew, and soon it was April. The rice seedlings in the courtyard had grown considerably, with officials from the Ministry of Revenue coming daily to inspect.

Judging by their growth, they were indeed superior to those outside, but the final results were not yet clear.

After morning practice and before lunch, Li Yuechen was bathing in the inner hall when Shangguan Wan’er came running in.

“Your Highness, I heard there are Tibetan envoys in the palace today,” Shangguan Wan’er said, resting her arms on the edge of the bath. “I’m curious what Tibetans look like.”

“They’re just like you—two eyes, one nose,” Li Yuechen replied, lounging against the wooden tub without opening her eyes. “If there’s any difference, most Tibetans have two patches of red on their faces.”

Shangguan Wan’er tilted her head in confusion. “Is it rouge?”

Li Yuechen shook her head gently, letting Xiao He scrub her arm with a towel. “If you stayed in Tibet long enough, you might have it too. It’s a climate issue.”

“Hmm…” Shangguan Wan’er pondered, still puzzled. “Will Your Highness go see them?”

Li Yuechen opened her eyes. “Why? Are you that curious?”

“Yes,” Shangguan Wan’er nodded.

“Very well. After lunch, I’ll take you to have a look,” Li Yuechen said, smiling.

“Okay!”

Shangguan Wan’er agreed and ran out.

...

After lunch, Li Yuechen took Shangguan Wan’er and her two equally curious elder sisters and quietly headed to the west upper pavilion beside the Zhen Guan Hall.

Li Zhi and his wife were surely inside, dining with the ministers and envoys. Their companions could only wait outside.

At the corner of the west upper pavilion, they saw two rows of Tibetan warriors in armor, standing outside the hall.

Li Yuechen pointed, “Look, those are Tibetans. Most have two red patches on their faces, right?”

Shangguan Wan’er nodded, “It doesn’t look much like rouge.”

Princess Yiyang laughed, “Men with red patches on their faces—how amusing.”

“It’s just due to the climate,” Li Yuechen replied. “Want to get closer?”

Princess Xuancheng shook her head, “We’d better not. If we’re discovered, Father might scold us.”

Li Yuechen agreed and waved them back. “All right, Wan’er, you return with our sisters. I’ll go listen for any interesting news.”

With that, she headed for the back door of Zhen Guan Hall.

Her sisters said nothing—Li Yuechen entering the court was as casual as going to the marketplace. They, however, couldn’t follow her there.

Li Yuechen wasn’t actually curious about Tibetans; she was simply interested in hearing what news might be discussed.

The two eunuchs guarding the back door greeted her with a slight bow and allowed her through the side passage, where she quietly slipped behind the screen.

A banquet was underway in Zhen Guan Hall, Li Zhi and Wu Zetian seated at their tables.

Seeing their daughter arrive, they merely glanced at her, no other reaction.

Dining with envoys often took longer, so Li Yuechen peeked out from behind the screen to observe the hall.

Below were two rows of tables—one for the crown prince and ministers, the other for the Tibetan envoys.

The foremost envoy looked young, with good skin. The patches of highland red on his cheeks were faint, not like someone raised on the plateau.

For this occasion, Li Zhi had chosen not to use the chairs invented by Li Yuechen, opting instead for traditional kneeling posture.

With Jiang Ke’s passing and the Liangzhou army returning, Tibet sending envoys at this time was bound to stir up conflict.

Li Yuechen hoped that if an argument broke out, Li Zhi would keep his composure—better to lose an argument than to let his illness flare.

After some thought, Li Yuechen resolved to step in if Li Zhi faltered; she’d personally help him prevail.

She didn’t believe a modern person could outmaneuver ancient minds in cunning or wisdom.

But in debate or breadth of knowledge, even a junior high student from a thousand years later could easily overwhelm them!

Li Zhi glanced at his daughter behind the screen, set down his wine cup, and idly turned a health ball in his hand. “I am curious, who is wiser—the current Tsanpo or his ancestor?”

Li Yuechen puzzled over the question. Who was the current Tsanpo’s grandfather? Songtsen Gampo?

She didn’t know much history, but had studied after arriving in this era. Songtsen Gampo seemed indeed a remarkable figure.

She recalled learning in history class about Princess Wencheng’s marriage alliance, which occurred during Emperor Taizong’s reign.

...

Envoy Zhong Cong bowed and replied, “The current Tsanpo, though not as bold or decisive as his ancestor, governs diligently, and the people dare not deceive him. He is also a wise ruler.”

Hearing this, Li Yuechen was surprised. She hadn’t expected this Tibetan to speak fluent, elegant Tang dialect.

To master Tang official speech so well, his reading and writing must be excellent.

Li Zhi nodded slightly, his expression betraying no interest in such empty platitudes. He pressed on, “As I understand, the land of Tibet is harsh, its resources scarce. In the Luosuo Valley, aside from willows, there are no other plants. How has it developed to this extent?”

Zhong Cong paused for two seconds before answering, “Indeed, south of Wuhai, even in midsummer, snow remains; fur is worn in summer, hide in winter. In the coldest days, we pitch tents inside the city. Our tools and goods are not a tenth of those in Great Tang…”

At this, Li Yuechen nodded behind the screen. Tibet was indeed like this.

But unexpectedly, Zhong Cong changed direction: “Yet the nation is united, decisions rise from the people, all that benefits them is undertaken. Thus our dynasty endures…”

Li Yuechen nearly fell over in astonishment. Was he seriously boasting like this? If things were really so, how could they still be a quasi-slave society?

United nation, all decisions for the people… What nonsense. If it weren’t for Lun Qinling’s abilities, defeating Xue Rengui, and the altitude sickness, they’d have been finished long ago.

She thought so, but wasn’t angry. In diplomatic settings, this was always the way.

Li Zhi suddenly raised his voice, “Tuoyu Hun and Tibet have long been allied, yet Suhegui betrayed his lord. Tibet not only failed to help suppress the rebellion, but harbored the traitor, seized their land! I sent men to appease the Murong clan, yet you launched attacks and harassed Liangzhou. Why?”

Here it comes!

Li Yuechen readied herself behind the screen, preparing to intervene if Li Zhi faltered, determined to argue so fiercely they’d be left speechless.

She mentally drafted her speech as she watched.

But to her surprise, Zhong Cong replied calmly, “I am only tasked with tribute. Matters of the military are beyond my knowledge.”

Li Yuechen didn’t react at first; she had expected a heated argument, but it was dismissed so lightly, as if it had nothing to do with him.

That was fine, though. For Li Yuechen, the quarrel didn’t matter—so long as Li Zhi remained healthy.

The meal lasted until nearly late afternoon. They never argued, instead chatting amiably.

In the end, Li Zhi bestowed a heap of gifts upon the envoys, marking a peaceful conclusion to the exchange.

Relieved, Li Yuechen flashed a heart sign from behind the screen to her parents before leaving.

She had just returned to the Anfu Hall and barely sat down to rest when Fulai came running in, excitement written all over his face. “Your Highness, wonderful news!”

“What is it?” Li Yuechen asked, picking up some yogurt from the table.

Nearby, Shangguan Wan’er reminded her, “Your Highness, I just drank that…”

“The glass workshop sent word—they’ve succeeded in making transparent glass!” Fulai exclaimed, drowning out Shangguan Wan’er’s quiet protest.

“Oh?” Li Yuechen’s eyes lit up. She set down the yogurt she had sipped, “Let’s go, let’s go—time to see!”

Watching Li Yuechen leave excitedly with Fulai, Shangguan Wan’er opened her mouth, then glanced at the yogurt on the table, her expression conflicted…

Hurrying to the glass workshop, the same craftsman handed over a square, transparent piece of glass.

His face bore an incredulous look, and his voice trembled, “Please examine it, Your Highness!”

Li Yuechen took it—a fist-sized, perfectly square piece of transparent glass.

Its clarity wasn’t as high as modern glass, but it was indeed colorless and transparent. Apart from a few tiny bubbles, it was flawless!

She held it up to the sunlight, a smile blooming on her face, unconsciously licking her lips. She turned and asked, “Was this made with the stone I provided?”

“Yes, Your Highness!” the craftsman replied respectfully.

Li Yuechen nodded slightly. “Fulai, buy up that stone in large quantities! Set the price as you see fit, but try to keep it low.”

“As you command!” Fulai answered enthusiastically, gazing at the glass. “Your Highness is truly a marvel!”