Chapter Thirty-One: The Expedition (Part Two)

Li Chengxiu had served as an Assistant Director in the Ministry of Rites for several years and had often been tasked with overseeing the imperial examinations. According to the regulations, only those knowledgeable in the imperial examination system were permitted to review exam papers, and Li Chengxiu had no such qualifications. Yet, during his rounds in the examination halls, he frequently paused to glance at the candidates’ answers, privately scoring them in his mind to indulge his own small desire to play the examiner.

Over the years, he had looked at hundreds of exam papers. Almost without exception, the candidates focused their efforts on poetry and fu, hoping to move the examiners and achieve high marks through their literary talent. The policy essays and current affairs questions were largely neglected. When answering such questions, candidates usually made slight modifications to precedents from previous dynasties. He recalled reading one essay on water management: the candidate had analyzed in detail the methods of Li Bing and Wang Jing, summarizing their approaches in a grand, self-satisfied manner.

Inwardly, Li Chengxiu sneered: Li Bing and Wang Jing were indeed ancient sages of water management, and their methods were certainly worth studying. But one lived in the time of King Zhaoxiang of Qin during the Warring States, the other under Emperor Ming of Han—both over five hundred years ago. Their wisdom had been pored over by countless generations. Was it really necessary to analyze and summarize them yet again? There was no innovation, only tedious repetition. Such an answer deserved, at best, a mediocre grade—how could one hope to succeed with that?

As he continued reading, the answers, though varied in form, rarely strayed from the same tired themes. Genuine innovation was exceedingly rare. Not until he came across Pei Min’s essay did Li Chengxiu feel truly shaken.

Every word and phrase was clear and methodical, brimming with originality. Pei Min identified the key to controlling the Yellow River as the management of silt and wrote about it with striking clarity. Most astonishing was his method of harnessing the river's flow to flush away sediment—a technique Li had neither seen nor heard of before, and certainly not found in any ancient texts. Pei Min’s reasoning was well-supported; even if Li Chengxiu could not judge its practical feasibility, he was nonetheless deeply impressed.

Pei Min, noticing the examiner’s astonishment, felt a surge of pride. This method of controlling silt with water did not require advanced technology, only a scientific and forward-thinking strategy—one entirely feasible in the Tang dynasty.

Since ancient times, the Yellow River had been called the Mother River, the cradle of Chinese civilization. Yet its ferocity was also legendary. If his method were truly implemented, it would benefit hundreds of thousands along the river’s middle and lower reaches for generations to come. In fact, any river with sufficient flow, not just the Yellow River, could employ this strategy—including the Yangtze.

Satisfied that he had thoroughly addressed the water management question with this powerful solution, Pei Min turned his attention to the second topic: the problem of border threats and how best to prevent them.

From the earliest historical records, border threats had always been a pressing concern: the Quanrong, Shanjung, and Di peoples in the Zhou; the Xiongnu in the Qin and Han; the Five Barbarians in the Jin; Turks and Tubo in the Tang; and later, Khitan, Liao, Western Xia, Jurchens, Mongols, Oirat, and so on in the Song and Ming. These threats had plagued the borderlands and, if not handled with utmost care, could even result in a great dynasty falling into foreign hands and perishing.

The menace of border threats was a grave affliction for the nation, always of paramount importance. Every dynasty had treated it as a top priority.

Pei Min pondered the current threats faced by the Tang: Turks to the north, Khitan and Xi to the northeast, Tubo to the southwest, and Nanzhao to the south...

He mulled this over for a long time but could not settle on a clear answer. Should he recommend, as the Song did, a layered system of defense and mutual support? Or, like the Ming, should he propose massing heavy troops at the borders, relying on fortified passes for protection?

He quickly dismissed both ideas. The military systems were different; neither approach suited the Tang.

The Tang dynasty! Pei Min’s thoughts flashed. Wasn’t it the proud might of the Tang in foreign wars? If so, why focus on defense?

Did Emperor Wu of Han ever worry about border threats? Did Emperor Taizong of Tang ever concern himself with such matters? Emperor Wu drove the Xiongnu into desperate retreat; Emperor Taizong all but annihilated every border foe. In the heyday of Han and Tang, was there even talk of border threats?

Pei Min gathered his thoughts and swiftly wrote: border threats only exist when the nation’s military is weak and lacks deterrence against foreign peoples. If we could, like Emperor Wu, drive the Xiongnu from their homeland, or, like Emperor Taizong, crush Tuyuhun, Turks, and Gaochang whenever they defied us—what external threat would remain?

His pen flew across the page: “The strong devour the weak; such is the law of survival. The foreigners are like wolves—if our Central Plains is as weak as sheep, no defense can hold back the calamity of border threats. But if we are as fierce as tigers, they will not dare provoke us, and defense becomes unnecessary. Without a powerful army to awe the world, border threats will never cease…”

The best defense is offense. To ensure the nation is safe from border dangers, defense alone is always passive; only strength and active engagement can secure peace. If the Tang army’s might swept all before it—one enemy slain for every one that came, ten thousand killed for every ten thousand—if we could undertake campaigns a thousand miles distant as in the subjugation of Tuyuhun, Turks, and Gaochang, what need would there be to fear border threats?

Considering the current corrupt state of the Tang military system, Pei Min once again advocated for military reform and, in addition, emphasized the importance of horse administration.

To truly contend with the Turks, Khitan, Xi, and Tubo, the management of horses could not be neglected. Against these horse-mounted peoples, without a strong cavalry, the Tang would always be at a disadvantage in open battle.

This disadvantage was not that infantry could never defeat cavalry—indeed, history offered many such victories—but that infantry suffered a fatal disadvantage in speed. If cavalry lost, they could scatter and escape, but if infantry lost, annihilation was the only outcome.

Thus, in many battles throughout history, the Han Chinese might win and kill a thousand enemies, but if they lost, casualties would number in the tens of thousands. The disparity was beyond reason.

To gain the upper hand against foreign enemies, horse administration had to be developed.

In this respect, Pei Min deeply admired the methods and daring of Li Shimin. Facing the chaos left by the Sui, he had the courage to promote horse administration on a large scale, making it flourish—without weakening national power, unlike Emperor Wu of Han. In Pei Min’s memory, under Taizong, the Tang army boasted seven hundred thousand horses at its peak. In every campaign, cavalry would rotate three horses per man, and even infantry would be assigned horses to speed up their marches. In all the history of the Central Plains, only the early Tang could boast such a feat.

Pei Min did not expect the Tang of today to match the Taizong era, but at the very least, every cavalryman should have his own horse, not a mule as a substitute.

Having poured his thoughts onto the page in a sweeping and elegant hand, Pei Min carefully checked his words for any errors or omissions. Time was ample; if he found any mistakes, he could rewrite the essay to avoid unnecessary deductions.

When the time was up, Pei Min submitted his paper, thus concluding three days of examinations.

In all three rounds, Pei Min felt he had performed excellently and was quite confident in his answers. But as for the outcome, it would depend on the final judgment of He Zhizhang, the chief examiner.