Chapter Seventy-Eight: Tang Tian's Background

Feng Xiaobao arrived well-prepared this time, bringing a master’s tribute of fifteen hundred strings of cash, fifteen crates each of premium soap and bath soap, and fifteen hundred pills each of top-quality Six-Flavored Rehmannia and Strength Pills, along with various other gifts. His previous tribute to Yang Deqing was a thousand strings; since Li Jinglong’s status in the army surpassed Yang Deqing’s, he increased the amount by fifty percent.

Li Jinglong was a straightforward man who believed there was no time like the present, so he hosted a grand banquet that very day to celebrate the acceptance of his new disciple. The event was somewhat hurried; the feast consisted mainly of large bowls of wine and generous slabs of meat, with everyone bustling about in a flurry. Feng Xiaobao found the atmosphere odd.

Later, he learned that Cui Yuxiu from the Cui family had visited the marquis’s residence that day, using both persuasion and pressure in hopes of becoming Li Jinglong’s tenth disciple. Li Jinglong was no fool. He understood well that the aristocratic families were a double-edged sword for the Li Tang Dynasty: used wisely, they could be an asset, but mishandled, they would become parasites within the empire. His exceptional position in the army, free from imperial suspicion, was due to his practice of accepting mostly common-born disciples. Of his nine disciples, not one hailed from an aristocratic family. When such candidates sought entry, he directed them to the Shenwu Martial Academy where he held an honorary post—a place of mixed backgrounds with little influence on the army.

Cui Yuxiu sought to become his disciple, but Li Jinglong avoided him as best he could; the Cui family’s power made outright refusal difficult. Feng Xiaobao’s timely arrival suited him perfectly, and Li Jinglong publicly declared Feng Xiaobao as his tenth disciple, his last and final disciple, closing the door to new applicants.

Cui Yuxiu was present and, recognizing he was no match for Xiaobao, refrained from a challenge. Still, having lost the opportunity for the disciple’s place, he was undoubtedly displeased—so Feng Xiaobao was bound to bear the brunt of his resentment.

A martial man’s banquet was, of course, the liveliest gathering; everyone could hold their liquor and drank merrily. As the newly minted junior master, Feng Xiaobao naturally became the focus of everyone’s attention. He accepted every toast, emptying cup after cup, bowl after bowl, as if they contained nothing more than sweet water. In jest, he considered himself a veteran of alcohol trials in later generations; the wine of this era was not yet properly distilled or concentrated. Perhaps he should invent a proper distilled spirit? The answer was yes—alcohol was indeed useful, but not yet.

“Master Xiaobao, I drink three cups to you!” Tian Yaohan, the senior disciple of the second generation, approached him amicably with a toast. To call him “Junior Master” or some other title would imply disrespect; addressing him as “Master Xiaobao” was fitting.

Did Tian Yaohan truly accept him? Of course not.

However, before meeting Feng Xiaobao, he had been summoned by Ke Wenlong, who reminded him, “Xiaobao is not like you. His future... may well not rely on sword and spear. He could rise swiftly to the rank of general.”

“That’s what your grandmaster said!” Ke Wenlong informed him.

“Grandmaster really said so?” Tian Yaohan asked in surprise.

“Absolutely!” Ke Wenlong affirmed.

“I understand what I must do.” Tian Yaohan replied after a moment’s silence.

Thus, he led the toasts to Feng Xiaobao and enthusiastically introduced each of the principal disciples to him. Skilled in social graces, Feng Xiaobao reciprocated with warmth and many clinks of cups, creating an atmosphere of harmony.

After making his rounds, Feng Xiaobao returned to the main table, where the most important figures were seated: Li Jinglong, Ke Wenlong, Xiaobao, and Tang Tian. Li Jinglong occupied the seat of honor, Ke Wenlong sat to his left, Feng Xiaobao to his right, with Tang Tian beside him.

The haste was evident—none of Li Jinglong’s other disciples were present.

During the meal, Li Jinglong asked Tang Tian, “Are you a child of the Tang family of Liangzhou?”

“Yes, I am,” Tang Tian replied.

“Is your great-uncle Tang Zhengming still alive?” Li Jinglong continued.

“He’s alive and well—rides several laps each day. If he misses a day, he feels unwell and gets sick,” Tang Tian said.

“So old Tang Zhengming is still alive? In the old days, he gave me three hundred horses to help me rout the Khitans. That battle was a slaughter, and I seized an entire tribe, paid him back with nine hundred horses. He was delighted, said it was a good business, and found me three more tribes. We robbed and killed our way through, burning villages, taking livestock, and stealing women… A blink of an eye, and ten years have passed!” Li Jinglong, hearing news of his old friend and spurred on by wine, spoke frankly.

At his words, everyone’s faces darkened—this ancestor was truly a brigand at heart.

Tang Tian promptly stood and said, “So you’re my great-uncle’s friend, Marquis. Forgive my lack of respect.”

“Sit, sit. Your Tang family was originally Hu people—probably of the Huiyi tribe, the ancestors of the Uyghurs. Later, your whole clan pledged allegiance to the Li Tang Dynasty and was granted the surname Tang. Back then, there weren’t so many formalities. I tell you, keep your Hu customs—it’s best. Those scholarly rituals, with all their fuss and ceremony, annoy the hell out of me.”

So now Feng Xiaobao knew the Tang family’s origin—they were granted the surname Tang by the Li Tang Dynasty.

“The Great Tang’s ceremonial rites are observed diligently by my clan; it is the foundation of our standing,” Tang Tian replied, careful not to contradict.

If they did not uphold Tang ceremonial rites, but kept Hu customs, how could they gain the trust of the court?

“Enough, enough, I won’t argue with you. I don’t want my tenth disciple accusing me of bullying children!” Li Jinglong shifted topics, asking, “Your command of Chinese is better than mine—almost makes me feel like the foreigner. How did you learn?”

“At the clan academy, we hired three teachers from Chang’an to instruct us,” Tang Tian replied.

“From Chang’an to Liangzhou? They were willing?” Li Jinglong asked skeptically.

“They came when invited,” Tang Tian answered dryly.

When with Feng Xiaobao, Tang Tian was gentle and refined, but rarely spoke of her family’s ‘business’—which was hardly respectable. Li Jinglong’s words laid bare much of the Tang family’s history. No wonder she was so beautiful, yet so hard to wed!

In truth, the Tang family was no benign force; they ruled both sides of the law and were a local power. In Liangzhou, they killed Hu people; in the Western Regions, they robbed Hu merchant caravans. They appeared as upright people but were bandits behind closed doors, capable of any deed—except one: never to kill Han people without cause.

This was not a divine law, but a practical one. With the Han central dynasty strong, the Tang family and their affiliated Hu tribes were under its formidable deterrent. The Tang army had its share of figures like Li Jinglong, who committed atrocities against Hu people on the border; the Tang family, naturally, feared them.

On the steppe, one tribe might rise today and fall tomorrow, but as long as the Tang Dynasty endured, the Tang army could always return. Wise tribes never provoked them.

“How is your archery?” Li Jinglong asked Tang Tian, knowing her family excelled in mounted archery.

“I am a ninth-rank purple belt,” she said, showing three purple ribbons.

“Ho!” Li Jinglong exclaimed, as if seeing her anew. “You are actually a ninth-rank purple belt!”

He relayed this to Ke Wenlong, who also expressed amazement. Feng Xiaobao, unfamiliar with the ranking, quickly inquired.

The Tang family’s archery had nine ranks: first to third were blue belts, fourth to sixth red, seventh to ninth purple. Roughly, these corresponded to static versus static, static versus moving, and moving versus moving stages. The ninth-rank purple belt was the level of an eagle-shooter among the Hu people—capable of shooting down wild eagles in flight from horseback.

No wonder she was so hard to marry—she was a postdoctoral graduate, the equivalent of an Ivy League scholar!