Chapter 008: A Friendship Beyond Words

Li Zaixing’s remark, of course, was meant to be startling, a deliberate display to show Li Bi that he was no ordinary man, worth befriending. Yet he was far from speaking at random—uttering nonsense before Li Bi was certainly not a wise move. His words stemmed from years of stationing in the frontier, giving him deep knowledge of the importance of the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, backed by a thousand years of history. Even in the presence of a strategist and statesman like Li Bi, his insight was profound enough to pique Li Bi’s curiosity and earn his respect.

Li Bi seemed to see through Li Zaixing’s intentions; he shook his head with a smile, “Tibet is indeed formidable, but it is not enough to become a mortal threat to the Tang Empire. Brother, you worry too much.”

Li Zaixing glanced sideways at Li Bi, the corner of his mouth lifting in an enigmatic half-smile, “Li Sanlang, you probably think I exaggerate, that I am just boasting?”

Li Bi waved his hand with a laugh, neither affirming nor denying.

Li Zaixing lowered his head, staring at his toes, pondering for a moment. When he looked up again, the smile had disappeared from his face, replaced by a solemnity, as if what he was about to say was of great importance. Seeing him so grave, Li Bi was unsettled as well.

“Sanlang, the battle between nations is like a contest between two martial artists. Each side attacks and defends; victory or defeat depends on the strength of offense and the rigor of defense. If one side is forced onto the defensive, responding passively, while the other can attack at will and perhaps deal a fatal blow, can the contest still be balanced?”

Li Bi’s gaze tightened, and he hesitated. Li Zaixing’s words were ambiguous, but Li Bi was clever enough to understand his meaning. Whether it was the Central Plains against the Turks on the steppe, or against Tibet, the situation was always passive, because the nomads could easily slip in and out of the heartland, while the imperial armies found it difficult to penetrate the steppe or plateau. The Tang had been able to eliminate the threat of the Turks only because Li Jing and others seized the opportunity to strike deep into the steppe, crippling the Turkic main force, causing their once-mighty empire to collapse.

The nomads of the steppe had always been a deadly threat to the dynasties of the Central Plains. First the Xiongnu, then the Xianbei, then the Turks, and who knew what would come next. The dynasties were always on the defensive, gaining temporary peace only when, by chance, with strong national power and brilliant generals, they struck deep into the steppe and dealt heavy blows. Otherwise, the situation was one of passive defense.

But if the Tang could penetrate the steppe to defeat the Turks, why not strike into Tibet and seek a decisive battle?

Faced with Li Bi’s question, Li Zaixing nodded, “Of course. The plateau and the steppe are alike in some ways, but vastly different in others. Our cavalry can ride deep into the steppe, but cannot do so on the plateau. That is why our forces are condemned to passive defense.”

“How are the plateau and steppe different?” Li Bi was skeptical, “Both are vast and sparsely populated, difficult for armies to march.”

Li Zaixing looked at Li Bi in surprise, his gaze somewhat odd, as if Li Bi’s comment was completely off the mark. Li Bi felt uneasy, sensing he might have misspoken.

Li Zaixing paused, then asked, “Have you ever climbed a mountain?”

Li Bi nodded, but wondered why Li Zaixing had suddenly brought up this topic.

“When you climb to the summit, do you ever feel short of breath?”

Li Bi nodded again, but then retorted, “If one is exhausted from climbing, naturally one is short of breath—what has that to do with Tibet?”

“Not so.” Li Zaixing shook his head, a mischievous smile on his lips. He knew he had found Li Bi’s blind spot. For all his intelligence and learning, Li Bi was limited by his era and experience; some things were simply unknown to him. “If it is a mountain tall enough, even standing still you will feel breathless.”

Li Bi shook his head; he had never experienced this. “Mount Song is very tall, yet I never felt that way.”

Li Zaixing shook his head again. Mount Song, and all the so-called Five Sacred Mountains, were only one or two thousand meters high—nothing compared to the lofty altitude of the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau. Was the 'roof of the world' merely an empty name? He did not continue the discussion, opting to keep a hint of mystery. “Someday, if you have the chance to visit Tibet, you’ll know the difference. Now, talking theory means little to you.”

Li Bi was stung, knowing he had been looked down upon by Li Zaixing. From childhood he had been clever, called a prodigy, seldom encountering anyone who belittled his scholarship. Yet both Li Zaixing and his master seemed unimpressed; it was galling. He decided not to ask Li Zaixing further, resolving to learn on his own when the opportunity arose. Judging by Li Zaixing’s expression, he was certain the man knew things he himself did not, and since Li Zaixing had grown up in the mountains, his insight must have come from the mysterious monk.

It was indeed rare fortune to have a good master. He had gone to such lengths to exchange a few words with the monk, only to end up disappointed, while Li Zaixing had lived with him for more than ten years—a stroke of luck he could hardly hope for.

Li Bi secretly envied him, though he kept his face calm and reserved.

“When do you plan to set out?”

“As soon as possible, of course.” Li Zaixing looked up at the sky and sighed, anxious for the country and its people. “Time waits for no one. With the world in turmoil, how can I linger here, wandering the mountains and seeking immortality?”

Li Bi’s face burned. Li Zaixing’s words were clearly directed at him. Nearly thirty, at the age to establish a household and career, seeking immortality was hardly his true intention. Moreover, he enjoyed the emperor’s favor and the crown prince’s esteem; how could he watch the world’s hidden dangers deepen, chaos looming, yet idle away in scenic retreats? Though Li Zaixing was not well-read, he had a remarkable master, had trained in extraordinary martial arts, and possessed an uncommon intuition. If fortune favored him, he might become a renowned general capable of safeguarding the realm. Recommending such talent to the emperor or the crown prince would benefit both the man and the nation.

“I’ll return to Chang’an with you,” Li Bi offered.

“Excellent!” Li Zaixing smiled and nodded, secretly relieved.

…

It proved a most astute decision for Li Zaixing’s journey to Chang’an to bring Li Bi along. Not only did he gain a guide, but he also enjoyed the privilege of eating and lodging at the official inns. The courier inns were government-run hostels and post stations, akin to modern guesthouses; officials could stay and eat free of charge, and use the courier horses for travel. For ordinary folk, however, these inns were off-limits, no matter how wealthy; it was a matter of status.

Besides, Li Zaixing had little money.

Once down the mountain, Li Zaixing realized how comfortable his unofficial life as a novice at Prajna Monastery had been. Though the food was plain, and he could not freely drink or eat meat—thanks to his unconventional master, his meals were actually quite good—the key was that he never spent a coin. Now off the mountain, he learned the hard truth: with money, one could travel the world; without it, one could hardly take a step. He carried only two sets of clothes and a long staff, not a single coin. The valuable Telu stallion he had just won from Li Bai was not to be sold for travel expenses. Without Li Bi, he likely would not have made it out of Hengzhou.

With Li Bi, everything changed. Li Bi was not an official, but he was famous. In his youth, after the dismissal of the prime minister, he had accepted an invitation from Zhang Jiuling, who was then chief administrator of Jingzhou, and had lived there for quite some time. The legend of 'Li the Prodigy' meant that nearly every courier inn welcomed him warmly. Moreover, Li Bi had money, two sturdy donkeys for travel, and a thirteen-year-old servant, Lu Hu, to attend his daily needs—a proper scholar on a journey, living comfortably.

Riding donkeys was the lot of the poor, but for Li Bi it was not poverty, but frailty—he could not ride horses. Traveling alongside Li Zaixing, who rode the Telu stallion, Li Bi felt increasingly self-conscious. After days of acquaintance, he knew that Li Zaixing had once been weak as well; now, robust as a bull, it was all due to years of hard training. This confirmed Li Zaixing’s maxim: “Only those who endure hardship are true heroes.” If one could not bear the hardships of physical training, how could one hope to accomplish anything?

With nothing much to do along the way, Li Zaixing asked Li Bi to lecture him on military strategy. The art of war comprised three main parts: first, the basics of marching, such as camping and arraying troops; second, offensive and defensive equipment, meaning the weaponry of the age; third, the stratagems of command, mainly the logic and tactics of warfare. Li Bi focused on the third, as his knowledge of the other two was largely theoretical. In fact, Li Zaixing, with his years of modern military experience, found it easier to grasp. Li Bi assumed Li Zaixing was simply a natural-born general, and felt a growing kinship. Whenever Li Zaixing asked, he did his utmost to instruct.

Naturally, Li Bi could not help but include some personal philosophies, like the Confucian ideal of 'benevolence is invincible.' Li Zaixing knew nothing of Confucian scholarship beyond memorizing a few lines, but he readily accepted the principle that a benevolent man loves the people. To him, it was only right that soldiers protect civilians—wasn’t that obvious?

This deeply moved Li Bi, putting his mind at ease. He had feared he might train up another general like An Lushan—cruel and ruthless, obsessed with merit and reward, mastering the art of war only to become a scourge. Seeing Li Zaixing’s innate kindness, he was delighted, and could confidently impart the strategies of Duke Wei.

Their conversations were lively; they walked side by side, discussing history and philosophy. At night, they slept together, sharing thoughts and insights, often talking late into the night until Li Bi could no longer stay awake. No matter how late they retired, Li Zaixing would always rise early to practice martial arts, a discipline that made Li Bi feel ashamed by comparison.

A month later, when they finally beheld the city of Chang’an, they had become the closest of friends, with nothing withheld between them. This fact greatly displeased Li Bi’s young servant, Lu Hu.

The novel had already climbed into the top fifty of the new book rankings. Keep pushing forward, onward, onward!