Chapter 007: A Remarkable Statement
Before long, Li Bai brought over the Teler Steed. He pressed the reins into Li Zaixing’s hand, lingering as his fingers stroked the horse’s neck, reluctant to part.
“My young friend, this was the famed horse from the Western Regions, bestowed upon me by His Majesty when I composed the three ‘Songs of Pure Peace.’ All these years, it has been my constant companion, never leaving my side for a moment…”
Li Zaixing smiled. “If the Banished Immortal is truly reluctant, you may take it back—it is no trouble.”
Li Bai shot him a glare, replying with some irritation, “I am merely fond of fine horses and feel some reluctance to part, but would I really break my word for personal gain? Think back—when I left eastern Sichuan, in less than a year I had given away over three hundred thousand in gold, helping countless people. How could I ruin my reputation for a single horse? Besides, seeing your martial prowess, my friend, I imagine you may one day roam the battlefield and make your mark. If this horse can help you achieve that, it will be its fortune, far better than idling away in the world with me. That is why I gift it to you. For you to suspect my intentions—it’s rather disappointing.”
Li Zaixing had only provoked him for fear he might change his mind, so hearing these words, he quickly cupped his hands in apology. “The Banished Immortal is a man who values honor above wealth. My words were out of place—please forgive me.”
Stroking his beard, Li Bai laughed heartily. “Have you read my ‘Song of the Swordsman’? Three cups spilt for a promise, the Five Peaks become light—what is a mere horse worth mentioning? My young friend, do not let down this steed, nor my goodwill.”
Li Zaixing grinned, taking the reins and running his hand over the Teler Steed’s sleek coat, thoroughly pleased. His spirits rising, he called out, “Banished Immortal, would you care for a gallop?”
Li Bai’s brows lifted, and he replied with gusto, “Excellent! Li Changyuan, will you join us?”
Li Mi shook his head with a smile. “You found kindred spirits at first sight. I’ll stay here and await your return.”
Li Bai laughed, waving to his attendant, “Prepare my horse! I must match riding skills with this young friend.” The attendant acknowledged and left. Li Bai followed with long strides, and Li Zaixing, shooting Li Mi a glance, led the Teler Steed out as well.
Outside the temple gate, Li Bai was already astride his horse, one hand on the reins, the other at his waist, looking proud and invigorated. Seeing Li Zaixing emerge, he laughed aloud, cracked his whip, and dashed off. Li Zaixing didn’t hesitate—he vaulted onto the Teler Steed. The horse neighed softly, hooves flashing like the wind as it sped after Li Bai. No wonder it was an imperial mount—not only did the wind whistle past his ears, but the ride was so smooth it barely jolted him. Li Zaixing had been a skilled rider in his previous life and rode often in this one; even without great skill, the Teler Steed’s steadiness would have kept him secure in the saddle.
He quickly caught up to Li Bai, who, hearing the approaching hoofbeats, glanced back and praised, “You ride splendidly, my friend—do you often ride?”
“Not often,” Li Zaixing replied, half-truthfully. “It’s simply a fine horse.”
Li Bai laughed. “The horse is fine, but your riding is not lacking either. You must be a natural-born general. In a few years’ time, I’m sure your name will echo throughout the armies of Great Tang.”
“If your words prove true, I will never forget your guidance and kindness today.”
That struck Li Bai’s pride; he laughed heartily, all his disappointment at losing the horse swept away. The two rode side by side, soon arriving at Hengzhou at the foot of the mountain. Li Bai, graceful and dashing, and Li Zaixing, youthful and handsome, with the rare Teler Steed beneath him, drew admiring glances from every passerby. Not only did the men cheer, but women and girls showered them with praise. For a moment, the air was filled with flirtatious voices, alluring glances, and arched brows—so free and open that even Li Zaixing, hailing from the twenty-first century, found it overwhelming.
Li Bai was even more spirited, spurring his horse ahead in a wild gallop. They raced along the city moat, circling Hengzhou in the time it took to eat a meal. At last, Li Bai, breathless, reined in his horse and wiped the fine sweat from his brow, sighing, “I’m old—no longer what I once was.”
Li Zaixing nudged the Teler Steed to fall half a step behind and, hearing these words, felt an inexplicable sadness. He knew Li Bai’s fate would be tragic. In a few years, the An Lushan Rebellion would break out, and Li Bai would follow some prince in rebellion, only to be exiled to Yelang in the end. A life of drifting was one thing, but to finish as a criminal—Heaven truly plays cruel tricks.
He pondered for a moment and sighed, “Banished Immortal, just now in the temple you spoke of impending chaos in the world.”
Li Bai mused for a moment, casting him a sideways glance. “Do you disagree, or are you trying to advise me to be cautious in word and deed?”
Li Zaixing couldn’t help but laugh. This old swordsman’s fighting spirit was undimmed—never willing to yield. He shook his head. “I agree completely, and I don’t wish to urge you to caution. All your life you have prided yourself on chivalry. I imagine you would never put your own safety above the world’s fate.”
Li Bai’s eyes brightened, his expression softening, clearly agreeing with Li Zaixing’s words.
“But, Banished Immortal, have you considered—when chaos comes, how will you act? Will you join the army to fight, or serve as a military advisor?”
Li Bai’s brows knitted in hesitation. He had often spoken of coming turmoil, yet had never truly considered what he would do if the world actually fell into chaos. He longed to achieve glory, to prop up a crumbling edifice, but hadn’t thought of the specifics. To join the army—he doubted he still had the strength. As a strategist, he was willing, but no one had ever invited him.
Li Zaixing waited patiently, not anxious. He didn’t know if he could change Li Bai’s tragic fate, but he was willing to try. Li Bai was a romantic poet, sensitive and fragile; if one spoke too plainly, it might backfire. He himself was no natural persuader—such matters were better left to Li Mi, but unfortunately, Li Mi thought little of Li Bai and likely wouldn’t bother.
Li Bai pondered for a while, but couldn’t find the answer. He turned and asked, “My young friend, do you have any advice?”
Li Zaixing smiled slightly—this was exactly what he’d been waiting for.
“Banished Immortal, where do you believe the greatest peril to Great Tang lies?”
Li Bai replied without hesitation, “That hardly needs asking—the northeast, of course.”
Li Zaixing shook his head. “There is indeed trouble in the northeast, but I believe the greatest threat is not there, but in the northwest.”
Li Bai laughed, shaking his head repeatedly. “My young friend, you are mistaken. Though there are many wars in the northwest, Tang’s real danger lies in the northeast. An Lushan alone commands Fanyang, Pinglu, and Hedong, with nearly two hundred thousand elite troops—half the border forces. At a single move, he could shake the whole empire. Where in the northwest is there such danger?”
Li Zaixing shook his head again. “Perhaps An Lushan is a threat, but it is a temporary one—a grave illness for Tang, to be sure, but not mortal. Do you agree?”
Li Bai nodded with rare seriousness. “Indeed. Tang has stood for over a century—a half-barbarian like An Lushan will not bring it down.”
“But the northwest is different,” Li Zaixing continued. “Banished Immortal, with your immense knowledge of history, you know that the gravest threats to our dynasties have always come from the northwest. The Han faced the Xiongnu, the Tang the Turks—all from the northwest. They not only possess the strength to shake the foundations of the state, but even threaten the survival of our civilization. The Five Barbarians’ invasion of China led to centuries of misery—our vast culture nearly destroyed in an instant. Have you forgotten?”
“Ah—” Li Bai regarded him in surprise. “I never expected a boy raised in a Buddhist temple to have such insight. Remarkable. Your master must be no ordinary man. I ought to pay him a visit.”
Li Zaixing laughed inwardly, thinking how much easier it was to attribute everything to a ‘brilliant master.’ He didn’t realize that many monks in the Tang were indeed learned and talented, drawn to Buddhism for its philosophy rather than comfort or livelihood, unlike some monks of later ages. Thus, scholars often sought friendship with eminent monks.
“So, Banished Immortal, do you find my argument reasonable?”
“Not entirely, but it’s worth consideration,” Li Bai nodded. “Are you suggesting I should devote myself to the northwest?”
“Banished Immortal, which weighs heavier—the realm of one dynasty, or the civilization of all China?”
Li Bai reflected for a moment, then nodded. “I understand your meaning. Let me think it over.”
Li Zaixing dared not expect to move the Poet Immortal to tears with golden words—Li Bai, trained in the arts of persuasion, was more than a match for a half-baked talker like himself. That Li Bai was willing to give the matter thought was already a feat.
“Of course,” Li Zaixing smiled. “With your talents, Banished Immortal, you should be a great general or prime minister, shining brilliantly. Yet you remain a wanderer—I can’t help feeling your path is a little off. It’s not my place to advise someone of your ability. Still, even wise men can err, and since you have honored me with your trust and your gift of the steed, I’ll risk a few humble words—please don’t take offense.”
“Your words are simple, but not without merit,” Li Bai said with a laugh, urging his horse forward. “I’ll consider it. Perhaps one day, we’ll meet again in the northwest.”
Li Zaixing finally relaxed. Whether or not Li Bai would go to the northwest, or escape his tragic fate, he had done his best. He nudged his horse and followed.
When they returned to the Wei Pavilion, Li Bai was immediately welcomed by the abbot. Li Zaixing, with no one to greet him, led his horse to the small courtyard where Li Mi stayed. Li Mi was surprised at how long he’d been away and asked at once, “What did you and Li Bai talk about?”
Li Zaixing summarized their conversation. After thinking it over, Li Mi replied, “Your suggestion that he go to the northwest isn’t a perfect solution, but it’s not a bad choice. If he joins the staff of the Anxi or Hexi military governors as chief secretary, he’ll be more than capable.”
“Do you think my view makes sense?”
Li Mi smiled, “Do you take me for a narrow-minded pedant like Li Bai?”
Li Zaixing sighed and shook his head. “It seems you’ve read the Art of War by Lord Li Wei, but haven’t grasped its true essence.”
Li Mi, half amused, said, “Enlighten me, please.”
“In your opinion, if Lord Li Wei were alive, where would his concerns lie?”
Li Mi frowned slightly. “The Turks have long been gone—though the Turgesh were a menace for a while, they were a minor ailment. If he were alive, he’d surely worry about the northeast.”
“No,” Li Zaixing said, raising a hand and pointing west. “I fear the true danger to Tang lies not in the northeast, but in the southwest.”
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