Chapter 11: The Worth of East Asia’s Strongest Carbon-Based Lifeform
A cold drop of sweat slid down Wen He’s cheek and fell to the ground.
“Heh, just joking to lighten the mood,” Wen He said, extending a finger to gently push the sword hanging at his neck away.
Facing Li Shimin’s fierce, tiger-like scrutinizing gaze, he cleared his somewhat dry throat.
Even though he knew Li Shimin would never kill him, fear still crept in.
“But if you truly have second thoughts, then I must seriously reconsider—not just for myself, but for those who would be implicated because of you, the ones who will one day bring glory to the Tang Dynasty.”
Li Shimin needed a reason to be persuaded, and Wen He gave him one.
The rebellion was not for his own life or fortune, but for those who followed him.
Li Shimin remained silent, sheathing his sword.
He stared at Wen He for a long while before finally asking, “I have long harbored doubts: why did you not choose the Crown Prince?”
“You say I am the future victor. Even without you, I could still ascend to the throne. But the Crown Prince is different. If you help him change his fate, there is more to gain.”
Is this a test?
Wen He pondered silently.
He felt that perhaps his earlier provocation had been too sharp.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Li Shimin interrupted him, speaking seriously, “This is not a test, but a candid conversation between sovereign and subject.”
Heh.
Wen He sneered inwardly.
What kind of sovereign-subject heartfelt talk is this? Does he really think I’m a naive child?
We have known each other less than half a day—how could he be so intimate as to have a heart-to-heart with me?
He understood well the saying that “being with a ruler is like being with a tiger.”
The reason he had been so unrestrained before, appearing brash, was to let Li Shimin know he was a man without guile, sincerely honest.
If a time traveler possessed deep scheming and was hard to read, then no matter how great Li Shimin’s desire for the future, Wen He would be left with only two options: death or lifelong imprisonment.
Thus, sincerity was his trump card.
But he could not be too straightforward either.
“Since Your Highness has spoken so openly, I shall be frank as well. Actually, I have considered it—if I sided with the Crown Prince, Prince Qi might have had to come apologize to me.”
Wen He snorted a couple of times, as if he truly had thought so.
Li Shimin’s expression remained unchanged, awaiting the rest.
“But I don’t know what effect this would have on the Tang Dynasty—perhaps better, perhaps worse. I cannot take that gamble. Choosing you at least guarantees a good beginning for the Tang.”
That was his true sentiment.
Though many in later generations argued online that Li Jiancheng was no worse than Li Shimin, Wen He could not take that risk.
He was now part of Tang’s history, and its future would affect him.
Perhaps Li Jiancheng was stronger than he thought, but history’s victor was Li Shimin.
With a successful model ahead, why make things difficult for himself?
“Is that all?” Li Shimin squinted slightly, clearly skeptical.
Wen He nodded calmly, looking sincerely at him.
“Of course. Tell me, in history, who has ever been so humiliated and yet avenged themselves within three years, even forcing the enemy chieftain to perform a dance?”
Even on this point alone, Wen He sincerely admired Li Shimin.
The Han Dynasty endured the Baideng Mountain siege but only avenged itself decades later under Emperor Wu.
The Song signed the Treaty of Tan Yuan but never avenged themselves before the Liao’s fall, suffering repeated defeats.
As for the Ming’s ineffectual emperors, there was no need to mention.
“None compare?” Li Shimin, though somewhat proud, feigned deep thought.
Wen He nodded firmly, giving a thumbs-up. “Unprecedented, unmatched.”
“Ahem, I have yet to do enough,” Li Shimin said, rising from the desk, his steps lighter.
“After this meal, I should return to the palace to meet my father.” He walked toward the door, leaving behind a light remark.
Though he spoke casually, Wen He, knowing what was to come, took a deep breath.
Though just one day in advance, it might change many things.
“By the way,” Li Shimin halted at the doorway. Wen He looked over curiously.
“What did you mean by ‘humiliation’ just now?” Li Shimin had been too elated earlier to remember this detail, but now his brow furrowed deeply.
He turned sharply, awakening a beast-like aura.
Feeling the intensity radiating from him, Wen He swallowed nervously.
“That happened after you ascended the throne. The Xieli tribe of the Turks took advantage of the unstable court, leading an army of a hundred thousand to attack Jingzhou, then marched all the way to Wugong, threatening the capital Chang’an. At that time, only a few thousand troops defended the city, forcing you to sign the Wei River Treaty.”
As he spoke, he saw the murderous aura on Li Shimin’s face.
Just after ascending the throne, the Turks had slapped him hard across the face—a blow no man could swallow.
“Why did Li Yi fail to warn you?”
The Li Yi mentioned was the prototype of Luo Cheng’s father from the “Romance of Sui and Tang.”
His original name was Luo Yi, bestowed the title Prince of Yan in the third year of Wude, and changed his surname to Li.
However, historically he had no son named Luo Cheng and was not a loyal minister.
Now stationed in Jingzhou for the Tang, he should have alerted Chang’an upon the Turk attack.
Yet he did not, watching the Turks march straight to Chang’an.
“Ahem, he was loyal to Li Jiancheng, and…”
“And what?”
“And he later rebelled.”
Wen He finished, pursing his lips and stepping back a few paces.
He feared Li Shimin’s anger might implicate him.
But to Wen He’s surprise, Li Shimin did not get angry—he laughed instead.
“Well, well, Li Ziting, I know now. This counts as a merit for you.”
“Ah, that’s it? Aren’t you curious how you repelled the Turks?” Wen He thought he would ask more.
Li Shimin snorted coldly.
“Simply by sending money, grain, and women. But the Turks are always greedy. An army of a hundred thousand would not leave easily. If I’m not mistaken, I must have sent Jingde or Shubao to deal the Turks a heavy blow.”
“Holy hell!”
Wen He covered his mouth, too shocked for words.
He had revealed nothing, yet Li Shimin had guessed most of it.
“Also, you mentioned the Wei River—the terrain there is perfect for ambushes and feints. If I’m right, Xieli must have been scared off by me.”
You’re incredible!
You got it right again.
“Your Highness, you don’t come from the future, do you?”
“Hmph. Moreover, the Turks were already divided internally. After this retreat, Xieli’s prestige was shattered; the Xueyantuo and Uighurs already disrespected him. If I sent envoys to persuade them, the Turks would collapse from within. No wonder you say I avenged myself within three years—so that’s how.”
Wen He covered his cheeks, mouth agape.
Have you seen Van Gogh’s “The Scream”?
This was exactly his expression.
“Impressive, truly impressive. Now I understand the worth of the strongest carbon-based lifeform in 7th-century East Asia.”
“Ahem, but it’s just military strategy.”
Seeing Wen He’s astonishment, Li Shimin felt gratified.
This youth from the future always carried a rebellious spark in his eyes.
His words often hinted at disdain.
Wen He himself did not notice this, but Li Shimin saw it clearly.
At last, he had intimidated the brat.
Not because he foresaw everything, but because of precedent.
In the Eastern Han, Cao Cao had used feints at the Wei River to confuse Ma Chao.
From Wen He’s account, he confirmed that after the Turks raided Chang’an, Li Shimin had sent generals to deal them a severe defeat.
Given Xieli’s temperament, suspicion was inevitable.
Coupled with the Turks’ internal discord, he had no courage to hold out too long.
Thus, Wen He’s few words allowed Li Shimin to guess the general situation.
But guessing was one thing.
Stopping it was another.
Li Yi was a hidden danger, yet nobody could replace him now.
No, that was not true.
Li Shimin thought of someone.
“Wen He, do you know the physician Li?”