Chapter 23: Convergence at the Academy

Chapter 23: Gathering at the Academy

Li Chunfeng was the first to report to Li Tai.

Li Chunfeng was not the mystical, eccentric Taoist Li Tai had imagined; on the contrary, he was a clean-cut young man. However, his clothes appeared somewhat worn, suggesting that his meager salary as an official of the Bureau of Astronomy and Calendar in Chang'an was clearly insufficient for his daily needs.

Looking at Li Tai, Li Chunfeng’s first words were timidly spoken: "Prince of Yue, may I sleep in the academy for a few days? I usually reside at the Bureau of Astronomy, but now I must find a new place to live..."

Hearing this, Li Tai was deeply moved and quickly replied, "Our academy has built new housing, and teachers have their own dedicated quarters. As a department head, you are entitled to an independent courtyard. Binwang, please take Department Head Li to his residence."

Ma Zhou immediately took Li Chunfeng to handle the induction procedures and escorted him to his courtyard along the way. In reality, even teaching assistants in the liberal arts were provided with independent rooms, so Li Chunfeng, having been appointed by Li Shimin as a department head, naturally enjoyed the privilege of an independent courtyard.

Once settled in his own courtyard, Li Tai, seeing his plight, even advanced him a month's salary. Li Chunfeng was instantly revitalized and came to see Li Tai, brimming with energy to start work. With the money provided, he would gladly work not just a nine-to-nine-six schedule, but even round-the-clock without complaint.

"Let’s start by standardizing our basic units!" Li Tai said, observing Li Chunfeng’s eagerness to contribute despite not knowing where to begin. "I want to establish a set of independent weights and measures for our academy!"

Li Chunfeng was slightly taken aback by Li Tai’s words. "Does Your Highness feel there is a problem with our current measurements?"

"There is definitely a problem!" Li Tai nodded. "An inch is defined by the length of ten grains of millet laid side by side, and ten inches make a foot. Since millet varies in size, officials collecting taxes will naturally choose the largest grains. The very basis of 'large measures in, small measures out' lies in the lack of precision in weights and measures! While my father is wise and does not tolerate corrupt officials, if tax revenue can be increased within the rules, it is actually encouraged."

Li Tai sighed inwardly. In reality, ancient China's choice to use grain rather than human body parts as a standard of measurement reflected a devotion to agriculture, which was remarkably advanced for its time. However, while the system of units remained unchanged throughout China's feudal dynasties, the actual values kept increasing. A 'foot' in the Qin and Han dynasties was about 23 centimeters, but by the Ming and Qing, it had grown to 32 centimeters. This system was like an invisible hand, constantly stealing grain from the common people and increasing their burden.

Furthermore, Li Tai noticed that whenever his workers were at task, unless they were trained by the same master, the items they produced differed. Even if they had agreed upon a size, subtle adjustments often occurred during the process. The problems exposed by the weights and measures made it clear to Li Tai that he was still far from his goals. It was manageable now that the scale was small, but his dreams of assembly lines and mass production were futile; the discrepancy in the size of a single part would make any attempt at large-scale manufacturing a joke.

Every time Li Tai wanted to do something that he considered common sense in this world, some inexplicable situation would arise to derail his plans. The issue of weights and measures was just one example. In fact, if he truly wanted to achieve mass production and scientific standardization, he would immediately face the problem of a lack of workers with basic education. Li Tai had considered this, which was why he founded the Agricultural Academy—to accumulate a workforce with basic education. Without sufficient manpower, it would be impossible for him to extend the prosperity of the Zhenguan era, let alone change the fate of the Great Tang.

Even as Li Tai, he did not believe himself to be a god of this era who could command reality at will. After all, his predecessor, Wang Mang, had made it clear to future time-travelers that one person could not reverse the great tides of history. Thus, by building the academy, Li Tai sought to imprint new knowledge and rules onto this land through agriculture, the industry most acceptable to its people.

Li Chunfeng, however, did not realize how far Li Tai’s thoughts had drifted. He was simply considering the matter from a technical perspective. "Since Your Highness has the idea of re-establishing weights and measures, do you already have a direction?"

Li Tai immediately thought of a mercury column, as it was the most stable measurement tool available in the ancient environment. But the problem that stumped him was where to obtain transparent glass for the experiment.

Upon thinking of this, Li Tai felt a surge of frustration. Things that seemed like common sense to him always hit a wall of pre-requisite problems when he tried to prove them. It was easy to state the answer, but the reality often made it impossible to provide the proof.

To be honest, Li Tai’s urgency in having Ma Zhou collect coal was driven by the thought that if all else failed, he would have to learn how to fire glass himself. Without transparent glass as an auxiliary tool to observe reactions, many things simply could not be accomplished.

"Generally speaking, mercury can be used to prove it! But I lack a tool to directly observe the mercury," Li Tai said to Ma Zhou. "Can you find a way to make a transparent container? If so, we should be able to establish a standard."

"A transparent container?" Li Chunfeng hesitated for a moment before asking timidly, "Do you mean ice?"

Li Tai was stunned for a moment by Li Chunfeng’s answer. He had truly not thought of using ice to solve the problem of a transparent container. Although ice could not replace the observation of many chemical changes, it was certainly sufficient for studying simple physical problems.

Li Tai patted Li Chunfeng on the shoulder. "Then I shall leave this matter to you."

Li Chunfeng was filled with questions, but Li Tai immediately bombarded him with a wealth of knowledge and sent him off to study the mercury column. In truth, once the problem of the transparent device was solved, creating a mercury column became much simpler. As the column was completed, Li Tai, for the sake of future calculation, divided it into 76 segments, thus creating the centimeter. Once the centimeter was established, he used water as the standard for weight and volume, leading to the units of grams and kilograms.

Looking at the units he had created, Li Tai was moved to tears; with these, he finally had the foundation for the mathematical sciences. It must be said that compared to the other teachers, because Li Chunfeng helped solve the problem of weights and measures, Li Tai was most supportive of him. Moreover, Li Chunfeng’s hobby was mathematics, which wasn't an expensive pursuit, so Li Tai had someone make him a simple abacus. Li Chunfeng quickly fell in love with the tool, his fingers clicking away at the beads. Watching how skillfully he manipulated them, Li Tai silently added an abacus course to the mathematics curriculum. At least in an era before the birth of the calculator, the abacus was the most powerful tool available.

At this time, Sun Simiao also arrived at the Agricultural Academy. He appeared remarkably young; despite being over seventy, he looked as if he were in his forties or fifties.

"I, Sun Simiao, have come to join the Agricultural Academy upon invitation. Greetings to the Academy Dean!" Sun Simiao was the first to address Li Tai as "Dean," a title that left Li Tai feeling a bit embarrassed.

"You are too kind, Old Immortal. Your presence as the head of the Medical Department brings great honor to our academy!" Li Tai exclaimed.

However, Sun Simiao got straight to the point. "Dean, I am over seventy and feel my strength waning. I am grateful for the Emperor's grace in appointing me to lead the Medical Department, but I lack the energy to manage it. May I recommend my disciple, Liu Shenwei, to assist me in managing the department?"

*You lived all the way to the reign of Emperor Gaozong and were still energetic enough to publish the "Tang Xin Bencao,"* Li Tai thought to himself. Yet, hearing Sun Simiao’s words, he understood that the old man did not place much importance on the Medical Department itself. Li Tai understood this; the "Living Immortal" Sun Simiao came to his academy not to be a servant, but because he had his own goals. He simply felt it was unnecessary to explain them to Li Tai.

It did not matter to Li Tai; as long as this great master stayed in his academy, it was enough. Whether he did the work or his disciple did it was irrelevant. After all, the greatest benefit of Sun Simiao’s presence was having an insurance policy—if any major illness occurred, he might just save lives. Thus, Li Tai readily agreed to his request.

However, Li Tai added, "Old Immortal, as the head of the Medical Department, I ask that you set aside one day each month to answer questions for the students." Li Tai treated Sun Simiao as a guest professor—the most top-tier medical professor in the world. He felt it was a waste to use such a master for general medical education. It would be better to wait until some talented students emerged, and then find a way to have them study under Sun Simiao. In Li Tai's view, having Sun Simiao come to the school for a lecture or a Q&A session once in a while was more than enough.

Sun Simiao had originally thought that because of Li Tai’s young age, he might not agree so easily, and he had prepared to make concessions if the requests were not too excessive. He had not expected Li Tai to be so lenient, requiring him to work only one day a month, leaving plenty of time for him to research his "Essential Formulas for Emergencies."

Compared to Li Chunfeng and Sun Simiao, who arrived at the academy almost immediately after receiving Li Shimin’s summons, Du Chuke was in no rush after receiving the letter from Du Ruhui. He descended from Mount Song and traveled leisurely toward Gaoling, following the winter snow.

Unlike the silent world he had traveled through—as it was winter and people in the north preferred to huddle at home, avoiding the cold unless absolutely necessary—the people in Gaoling were different. As his ox cart passed by, he lifted the curtain and saw them working vigorously, seemingly unafraid of the harsh winter. They were not being forced by officials with whips; they were working with genuine enthusiasm. Men were shoveling snow, and women were sweeping; the streets, once covered by the heavy snow, were becoming tidy again.

This scene amazed Du Chuke, causing him to slow his pace as he approached the academy. He suddenly found this place interesting. As the younger brother of Du Ruhui, Du Chuke was no less talented. During the Zhenguan era, he had risen from a position in the Chancellery, served as a general of the Left Guard, and eventually became the Minister of Works. Although he had a high starting point, his own talent was worthy of his positions, and he even had the opportunity to strive for the status of his late brother. Unfortunately, due to his support for the Prince of Wei in the succession struggle, he had failed and been demoted to a county magistrate.

However, Du Chuke had always taken his brother, Du Ruhui, as a role model and wanted to find his own monarch. He knew that no matter how well he performed, if he missed the bond with Li Shimin, he would only ever be "the second Du Ruhui," forever living in his brother’s shadow. No one, let alone someone as capable as Du Chuke, would want to be a shadow for a lifetime. Therefore, he hoped to follow the path his brother once took—to choose his own monarch, assist him in becoming king, and then become a chancellor himself. It was a path as thin as ice, but to Du Chuke, it was better than living in a shadow forever, even if he failed.

"The founder of the Agricultural Academy is the Prince of Yue..." Du Chuke murmured. To be honest, he had not been interested in the Prince of Yue, who had been abandoned by the Confucian scholars. He had agreed to come to the academy at Du Ruhui’s request mostly to observe the shifting tides of Chang'an. But now, seeing the vitality of the people of Gaoling—a vitality he had not seen anywhere else since leaving Mount Song—he was intrigued. He knew these people were newly converted refugees, yet in such a short time, what methods had the Prince of Yue used to give them such hope?

Just then, a cry rang out from afar: "Dinner is served! There’s duck egg and duck leg for lunch today, a reward from the academy for helping clear the snow! If you’re late, you’ll only get old duck soup!"

Hearing this, the people put down their tools and headed toward the academy cafeteria.

"I think I understand now!" Du Chuke realized. The lunch was clearly the reason they were willing to work in the winter; if the lunch wasn't enough, the academy would provide dinner as well! These refugees were the best at calculating. They knew exactly how much grain they had left, and every extra meal provided by the academy meant saving a portion of their own food. Even if Li Tai only provided lunch and dinner, they would gladly come out to sweep the snow in the freezing cold.

Meanwhile, looking at the snow-covered landscape outside, Li Tai muttered, "Why haven't they arrived yet? Did Du Chuke get lost?"