Chapter 33: The Perils of Exalting Confucianism Above All and Suppressing Other Schools of Thought

Li Shimin listened to Du Chengfeng’s analysis and, to everyone’s surprise, did not become angry. Instead, he let out a long sigh, speaking with a note of helplessness, “Ah, how could I not know that everything you have said is true? But what means do I have to change it?”

“No, there are many ways,” Du Chengfeng suddenly stood up from the couch, speaking with confidence.

“Quickly, tell me!” Li Shimin, as if he had grasped a lifeline, became urgent.

“First, Your Majesty must realize that exalting Confucianism alone is tantamount to being stuck in a rut, viewing the world from the bottom of a well. Every school of thought has its strengths—how can we abandon all for the sake of one, discarding what is valuable because of a single flaw?” Du Chengfeng began to pace as he analyzed point by point, “Everything has two sides, and so do academic schools. The true path is to encourage a hundred schools to contend, to draw from all and absorb the essence. Only thus can minds remain unfettered and the nation advance swiftly.”

He paused for breath, then continued, “For example, why is Tang culture so firmly controlled by the noble families? It’s simple: because books are scarce. Even if poor people wish to study, they have no books to read, let alone the preciousness of paper. Why are books so expensive? Because the process of making them is tedious and costly. But with a small change, the cost could be much reduced.”

Hearing this, Li Shimin’s eyes lit up. Before Du Chengfeng could finish, he excitedly asked, “What change?”

“Please, Your Majesty, don’t be hasty,” Du Chengfeng soothed. “Books in the Tang are all copied by hand or printed with carved woodblocks. Both methods are flawed—slow, and prone to error. But imagine if each commonly used character were carved into a separate mold—then, when printing, we could assemble any text by combining these molds, instead of carving a new block for each page. These molds could be used endlessly. Would books still be a problem then?”

“Moreover, under the deliberate guidance of the Confucianists, everyone believes that all pursuits are inferior to reading. But what are they reading? Only the so-called Confucian classics. No one has thought to make even this small change. Minds have been shackled, and so the nation stagnates.”

“If a nation wishes to become strong, it cannot cling to old ways; it must always adapt. What is most suitable is what is best. What does Your Majesty think?” Du Chengfeng concluded, then fell silent, simply watching Li Shimin. He felt he had said enough; Li Shimin would need time to digest it.

Unexpectedly, Li Shimin, upon hearing this analysis, felt as if the fog had cleared and a new dawn had broken. Overcome with excitement, he slapped his thigh and cried out, “Brilliant! Du Chengfeng, you truly are my lucky star!”

Beside him, Chu Suiliang was left dumbstruck by shock. He was not a stubborn man, and Du Chengfeng’s analysis was concise and struck directly at the heart of the matter.

He couldn’t help but admire him; at least, he knew he could never have thought of such things himself. As Du Chengfeng said, their thinking had all been shackled.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty, felicitations!” Chu Suiliang, at a loss for words, could only offer flattery.

“Hahaha! To think that I, Li Shimin, wise all my life, could be muddled for a time! If not for you, Du Chengfeng, I’d have wandered down many wrong paths yet!” Li Shimin laughed at himself.

“Your Majesty need not belittle yourself. All of this is the fault of the entrenched noble families, that malignant tumor. All I have offered is a mere glimpse; to implement any of this is no quick task,” said Du Chengfeng calmly.

“I know, I know,” Li Shimin said ruefully. Suddenly, looking at Du Chengfeng with a serious expression, he said, “Du Chengfeng, you are a man of great talent—your calligraphy, poetry, and every ability reveal your genius. Let it be so: I grant you entry to the Imperial Academy for a year’s study. After a year, you shall be appointed Attendant Gentleman to the Crown Prince, a fifth-rank official post. I hope you will not refuse; I truly need men like you.”

Li Shimin spoke as if granting a great favor, convinced that studying at the highest academy of the Tang was a tremendous honor.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but I must refuse,” Du Chengfeng declined without hesitation, not the least bit evasive. For anyone else, refusing might have been a crime.

Hearing such a blunt refusal, Li Shimin, though not angry, nonetheless felt a twinge of disappointment. He could not understand why Du Chengfeng, clearly a man with grand ambitions and the welfare of the people at heart, would always reject his good intentions and decline to serve the court.

What Li Shimin didn’t know was that, upon hearing the prospect of entering the Imperial Academy and being made Attendant Gentleman to the Crown Prince, Du Chengfeng was inwardly scoffing: he was destined for greater things; what business had he in the Academy? What could those old men with fossilized ideas possibly teach him? If anything, he should be teaching them. And as for that official post, he knew exactly what it entailed.

“May I know the reason?” Li Shimin asked, still somewhat unwilling to give up.

“Your Majesty, I am still young, my nature too free-spirited—and besides, the people of Du Village need me,” Du Chengfeng replied casually, offering an excuse.

“Very well, I won’t force you,” Li Shimin sighed helplessly. A talent who could utter such extraordinary words was not one to be compelled. To do so would be counterproductive. He would have to reconsider his approach.

“If Your Majesty has no further business, may I take my leave?” Du Chengfeng inquired tentatively. After speaking with Li Shimin for so long, he thought it best to return and let them ponder the rest on their own.

“Very well, you may go,” Li Shimin answered reluctantly.

Du Chengfeng turned and was about to leave the Hall of Sweet Dew when a thought suddenly struck him.

Given that Li Shimin had treated him cordially today, Du Chengfeng felt he ought to warn them—at the very least, he would be sparing the people from disaster. Whether they believed him or not would be their own concern.

“Your Majesty, I have just recalled something important. I ask that you dismiss your attendants for a moment—though Prefect Chu may remain,” Du Chengfeng said, stepping back into the hall with a grave expression, his gaze heavy upon Li Shimin.

Li Shimin, seeing Du Chengfeng return with such a serious demeanor, instinctively dismissed all his trusted eunuchs and maids.

Once sure they were out of earshot, Du Chengfeng approached and said cautiously, “Your Majesty, next year a severe locust plague will strike the Guanzhong region. I urge you to take precautions early. If Your Majesty is willing to trust me, I will do all in my power to help.”

“Du Chengfeng, how do you know this?” Li Shimin’s first reaction was disbelief.

“Your Majesty, this is heaven’s will, and cannot be revealed,” Du Chengfeng replied, mysteriously.

With that, Du Chengfeng turned and left the Hall of Sweet Dew without looking back, paying no heed to the stunned expressions of Li Shimin and Chu Suiliang.

Even if he tried to explain, with their current knowledge, they would never believe him. Better, then, to seize the moment and build an aura of mystery. Whether Li Shimin chose to believe or doubt—it was up to him to take the gamble.