Chapter Sixteen: Pei Min's Discourse

He Zhizhang looked at Zhang Xu’s smug expression and was immediately overcome with frustration. At first, Pei Min did not understand, but seeing Zhang Xu’s satisfaction and He Zhizhang’s smiling anger, and considering their shared expertise in cursive script, he could guess the reason behind it with near certainty.

Just as he suspected, He Zhizhang and Zhang Xu had met over wine more than a month ago, bonding in friendship through their shared love of drink. After several encounters, they discovered their mutual mastery of calligraphy, especially in the art of cursive. He Zhizhang excelled at clerical-cursive, blending the techniques of semi-cursive script into clerical script, though not strictly either the ancient or modern forms, his style brimming with the spirit of the Wei and Jin dynasties. Zhang Xu’s cursive, on the other hand, was wild cursive—his brushstrokes flowed together in vigorous, sweeping arcs, the character forms bold and ever-changing.

Each style had its own merits, and He Zhizhang and Zhang Xu stood as the leading figures in their respective domains. Just as in literature there is no absolute first, and in martial arts no second, so with calligraphy of such excellence, it was impossible to judge who surpassed whom. Both felt that their own art was superior by a margin. Thus, when wine loosened their tongues and warmed their cheeks, they would argue passionately, sometimes parting in disagreement, unwilling to yield.

With Pei Min’s help, Zhang Xu had created a masterpiece, the “Ode to the King of Qin,” which possessed a grandeur as vast as mountains and rivers. He had long intended to gift the “Ode to the King of Qin” to Pei Min, but recalling his repeated debates with He Zhizhang over calligraphy, he deliberately brought it forth to display it, aiming to convince He Zhizhang beyond doubt.

He Zhizhang, gazing at the “Ode to the King of Qin,” could not bear to part with it, sighing, “This piece carries a sharp, mountain-swallowing spirit; I suppose we must thank young Pei for that. Zhang, your strokes are bold and free, yet your brush tends toward the gentle flow of landscapes. Without this encounter, you might never have changed so.”

Zhang Xu laughed, “You’ve got it right, He. Pei’s swordsmanship is divine. Though I don’t understand swordplay, I can see that every move is as if guided by the gods. From his sword, I found the spirit of cursive script, and my calligraphy advanced greatly.”

This was the first time Pei Min had heard Zhang Xu say such a thing. He was dumbfounded. In his memory, Zhang Xu had supposedly grasped the spirit of cursive after watching Gongsun Danu’s Xihe sword dance, becoming the grand master who carried the tradition forward. How had it become that he found the spirit of cursive in Pei Min’s swordplay now? Surprised, but also a little delighted.

Suddenly, both He Zhizhang and Zhang Xu sniffed the air and, as if agreeing silently, walked into the hall together.

Seeing Pei Min unmoving, He Zhizhang pulled him along, saying, “Come, let’s drink inside. Remember this, young Pei—when I make friends, I care not for status, learning, or talent. But I cannot abide those who won’t drink. If you refuse even a drop, I’ll show you the door at once.”

Pei Min laughed, “I only worry there won’t be enough to drink!” He was not fond of alcohol, but had a natural tolerance. He recalled the first time he drank strong spirits in later generations, over fifty degrees, and downed more than a pound without flushing or faltering, as if it were nothing. This body’s tolerance was no less; Tang dynasty wine topped out at around twenty degrees, so if he let himself go, six or seven pounds would be no trouble.

He Zhizhang narrowed his eyes and said, “Now that’s an excellent answer.” With that, he invited Pei Min in to drink.

The two calligraphy masters began to discuss the art. He Zhizhang, now in his early fifties, and Zhang Xu, nearly forty, had immersed themselves in calligraphy for decades, their foundation and experience far beyond Pei Min’s reach. Especially in cursive script, which Pei Min had little exposure to, he could barely join the conversation. Yet simply listening to their debate, Pei Min felt he benefited immensely. He felt no boredom, but listened with rapt attention and fascination. Occasionally, when inspiration struck and he interjected, both men regarded him with new respect.

As the wine warmed them, Zhang Xu laughed, “He, you’ve been promoted? Today your gate was crowded with visitors; I hardly dared call on you, lest people say I was currying favor with the high and mighty.”

He Zhizhang retorted, “You’re wrong, brother. At the wine table, there’s no rank or status. We are friends in drink; who dares to speak against it? Besides, you are brimming with talent and knowledge, and the emperor thirsts for men of ability. If my own rank were not so low, how could I not recommend you to His Majesty?”

Zhang Xu shook his head, “Officialdom is too restrictive for me; it’s not what I desire. But if you truly have the chance, you should recommend Pei. Don’t let his youth fool you. These past days I’ve spent with him, discussing all manner of things, ancient and modern. In calligraphy, he lags behind me, but in breadth of vision and strategy for governance, he far surpasses me. Literary and martial talent are his strengths; compared to our specialized skills, he is truly a man of great ability.”

He Zhizhang looked at Pei Min in surprise.

Pei Min himself hadn’t expected Zhang Xu to praise him so highly. He hurriedly said, “Zhang, you flatter me.”

He Zhizhang pondered a moment and said, “Whether it’s flattery or not, we’ll soon know. His Majesty possesses the ambition and talent of an emperor, no less than our Taizong. Newly ascended, he is intent on reform, determined to clear away the previous dynasty’s corruption and revive the might of Tang, restoring the glory of Taizong and Gaozong when all nations came to pay homage. If you were advising him, young brother, where would you begin?”

“Military reform,” Pei Min replied without hesitation.

He Zhizhang frowned in confusion.

Pei Min explained, “I traveled southward, covering thousands of miles, passing through more than a hundred villages and counties. What I saw was that though the people are not wealthy, they live in peace and contentment. The disorder among the nobles and generals has disrupted the court and caused harm, but it has not truly affected the common folk. The people are simple; their hopes are nothing more than food and warmth. As long as they do not starve or freeze, even hardship and toil bring no complaint. This shows that the current governance of the empire is adequate for the people. Improving their lives is certainly a task for the court, but it is not the most urgent matter.”

He Zhizhang nodded, and Zhang Xu agreed.

At present, the Tang dynasty was still following the policies left by Empress Wu Zetian. Wu was adept in political strategy, though her military leadership was lamentable. Yet, as ruler, appointing Di Renjie as her minister truly improved the lives of the people and stabilized their hearts; this is an undeniable fact.

Pei Min continued, “But the garrison troops are another matter. The decay of the garrison system has become a grave problem. Now, desertion among the troops is rising, the breakdown of the equal-field system has made the people unwilling to enlist, and the lack of effective recruits has led to garrison soldiers of extremely poor quality. When they enter battle, they are like lambs to the slaughter, utterly unable to resist. In past years, Tang could dominate the world not only because of great generals, but also because of the bravery of its soldiers. Consider the days of Taizong: in the war against the Turks, our ten thousand elite soldiers dared to venture deep into the steppe and confront Jieli’s force of over twenty thousand; in the campaign against Xue Yantuo, twelve thousand Tang troops defeated twenty thousand enemy soldiers—such battles are countless. Because our soldiers were braver than those of other nations, our weapons sharper, and our commanders wiser, we could win with fewer against more, as a matter of routine. Now, a few thousand enemy cavalry can penetrate deep into Tang territory and parade their strength; unless we muster forces many times their number, we dare not fight, bringing shame to our ancestors. The “Sima Method” says: ‘Though the nation is great, those fond of war will perish; though the world is peaceful, forgetting war brings danger.’ If Tang is to regain its former glory, military reform must come first.”