3 days later, the morning in Dujiawa was almost blown off its roof by the sound of hooves!
At the village entrance, dust rolled up into little whirlwinds as dozens of armored riders stood silently in formation, their armor so bright it could have served as mirrors, and even the sound of the hooves seemed to hold its breath.
The village chief dropped to his knees with a “thump,” the dust kicked up by his kneecaps choking the stray dogs by the roadside into sneezing fits.
Every household’s doors and windows were tightly shut, and even the noisiest roosters shrank back into their coops and pretended to be quails.
Du Heng leaned against the courtyard gate with a grass root in his mouth, snickering. “Your Majesty, this ‘incognito visit’ is way too flashy; it is livelier than market day at the village entrance!”
Last night little Zi’er had bounced through his dream shouting, “Father Emperor is coming,” so he had already tidied up the yard as if a groom were about to meet his mother‑in‑law: the hemp cloth drying in the sun was stashed in the side room, bamboo curtains were hung down over the workshop area, and only the pastoral scenery and the wall‑mural section were left to serve as the “face of the house.”
He even stuffed a handful of wild strawberries to Granny A Ruan to coax her into going to the neighboring village. “Granny, our family is receiving Great Tang’s top celebrity today!”
By the third quarter of the si hour, when the sun had just climbed to the treetops, a carriage with vermilion wheels and an ornate canopy rolled over the gravel and stopped in front of the courtyard.
A golden hornless dragon on the roof brandished its might, and the curtain embroidered with sun and moon patterns was flicked up with a “swish”… and the first thing to jump down was a glutinous rice dumpling!
Princess Zi’er of Jinyang gripped the side of the carriage with her chubby little hands, her round body wrapped in a teal palace dress, the bells at the ends of her braids jingling. “Little young master, your house is so tiny!”
She called in a milky voice, then bounced toward the mural. “Look, Father Emperor! The chicken’s wings are shaking! It is about to fly away!”
“Wow!” Zi’er’s eyes shone like stars as she clapped and jumped high. “Little young master! This one is so pretty!”
Empress Zhangsun supported Li Shimin as he slowly stepped down from the carriage.
Although the Son of Heaven wore plain clothes, he still radiated an overwhelming aura, and the empress lightly tapped Zi’er’s forehead with her fingertip. “This child, whenever she sees someone interesting, she just cannot move her feet.”
“Commoner Du Heng respectfully welcomes Your Majesty’s sacred presence!”
He dropped to his knees in one smooth motion, yet his back stayed straight as a newly sprouted bamboo shoot.
“Rise.” Li Shimin waved his hand as lightly as brushing a willow branch, a smile at the corner of his eyes. “I brought my family to taste what flavor your ‘gewu’ has.”
The empress looked around the little courtyard, gentle ripples surfacing in her eyes. “The fields are laid out like a chessboard, the chickens are not running wild, even the piles of firewood are stacked like blocks of tofu… this boy manages his household as if he were governing a state, even the brooms are lined up neatly!”
Zi’er was already tugging at Du Heng’s hem. “Little young master! Abao’s wings can glow!”
“Little princess,” Du Heng squatted down to look her in the eye, his fingertip hovering toward the mural. “It is waiting for you to teach it to sing ‘The Qin King’s Battle-Breaking Music’.”
“Abao cannot!” She stamped her foot and broke into laughter, her glutinous‑rice teeth sparkling. “It can only go ‘coo coo’! Father Emperor’s dragon robe is the one that can sing!”
Li Shimin pointed to the mural of the pulley system, a sharp light flickering in his eyes. “The Directorate of Imperial Works successfully tested it last night, and the old Minister smashed his teacup, cursing it as ‘demonic arts’! If this were laid along the waterways for canal transport…”
“Your Majesty!” Du Heng suddenly cut in, startling the village chief so much that he went limp on the ground.
Yet the youth smiled forthrightly. “With the million strings of cash saved, would it be enough to buy straw sandals for the towmen? The art of gewu should be like rain and dew, making no distinction between noble and humble.”
“What a fine image, rain and dew!” Li Shimin clapped and laughed, making the sparrows at the treetops fly up in a flurry. “I am just about to establish a ‘Huimin Workshop’ for the people’s benefit, and you…”
“Father Emperor!” Zi’er tugged at the hem of his dragon robe, her little hand pointing at the gap in the bamboo curtains. “Little young master’s jar is singing! It smells so good!”
Du Heng lifted the curtain and brought out a clay jar. “It is soy sauce, playing hide‑and‑seek with the beans.”
He keenly caught the faint tremor of the empress’s fingertips and the pallor on her face, and an idea flashed. “This commoner has newly created ‘blazing stir‑fried greens’, best at refreshing the spirit and waking up the spleen. Does Your Majesty dare to try something new?”
“I dared to drink the poisoned wine of the khan of the Turks; would I be afraid of one pot of yours?” Li Shimin laughed heartily as he sat, the hem of his dragon robe almost sweeping over the small stools.
The stove fire whooshed to life, and the iron woks heated until blue smoke rose.
Du Heng’s motion of ladling in lard flowed like clouds and water, cubes of cured meat sizzling in the hot oil and bursting into golden flowers, while shepherd’s purse and purslane flipped through the air like green butterflies.
When the soy sauce was poured in along the rim of the wok, the charred fragrance wrapped around the fresh aroma and shot straight up to the sky… even the wild cats peeking from outside the courtyard wall could not help sticking out their heads.
“Wow!” Zi’er stood on tiptoe, clutching at the stove, stove ash dusting the tip of her nose so she looked just like a little calico cat caught stealing food. “The Kitchen God of the Imperial Kitchen ought to hand in his resignation!”
Empress Zhangsun could not help taking a light sniff. “This smell… it is like the smoke and fire from when, in the early Zhenguan years, Your Majesty took me to cook in the wild on Zhongnan Mountain.”
The brows she kept furrowed year‑round actually relaxed a little, and her fingertip unconsciously brushed across her chest.
On the rough wooden table, the bright green stir‑fried vegetables were set off by the coarse pottery bowls.
Li Shimin did not wait for the attendants to lay out chopsticks and simply reached out with his hand to grab some vegetables.
“Marvelous!” He narrowed his eyes as he chewed, his beard trembling along. “The control of the heat is as precise as measuring by the shichen, and the freshness seems to be bouncing right out from the hearts of the vegetables! Those old fellows in the Imperial Kitchen spend all day figuring out how to carve venison into phoenixes, yet forget that the most important thing about a dish is the word ‘fresh’!”
The empress tasted the purslane and actually felt the chest tightness she had accumulated over many years ease a little. “The bitter clarity returns with sweetness and presses down the stuffiness in my chest. This dish… has the taste of mountain wind.”
Zi’er was the most adorable, shoveling down millet rice mixed with vegetable juice with loud slurps, her little face smeared until she looked like a calico cat. “Little young master! From now on I want to be your little stoker! Abao says it wants to be the fire‑watching chicken!”
When the meal was over, even the cloth Li Shimin used to wipe his hands was stained with the fragrance of the dishes. “I brought my family here because you hold the world in your bowl.”
His gaze burned. “If I were to grant you rank and title, would you be willing to enter officialdom?”
Du Heng bowed to the ground and knocked his head, yet his back stayed taut and straight. “This commoner sets his ambition on the hearthfire, not on official robes. Letting craftsmen study techniques benefits the common people more than letting ministers review documents… think about it, Your Majesty, which hand is more important, the one that can write memorials or the one that can forge plowshares?”
“Arrogant youth!” Li Shimin slapped the table in feigned anger, making the bowls and dishes jingle, then suddenly laughed. “Very well! There is no rush, you are still young; one day you will willingly assist me!”
Princess Changle in the corner finally lifted her gaze.
The 14‑year‑old girl was dressed in plain robes as white as snow, yet her eyes were as clear as the springs of Zhongnan Mountain, quietly sliding over the sleeve of Du Heng that was smudged with stove ash.
When Zi’er hopped about calling him “little young master”, the corners of her lips curved slightly, like a spring breeze brushing over ice.
“Changle,” Li Shimin asked meaningfully, “what do you think of this boy?”
She lowered her eyes to hide the starlight within them. “There is no fear in his eyes, only curiosity. If he were a minister, he could stabilize the realm; if he were a craftsman…”
Her fingertip brushed over the lingering fragrance at the rim of her bowl. “He could make all the vermilion‑and‑purple officials of the court think about the stove, and even Father Emperor’s dragon throne would end up stained with the smell of cooking.”
Before they left, Empress Zhangsun presented him with a piece of plain silk, with the 4 characters “investigate things to attain knowledge” stitched as finely as her gentle thoughts.
When Zi’er tiptoed over to stuff some preserved fruit into his hands, the bead flowers in her hair swayed like golden bells in the sunlight. “Little young master! Next time bring Abao to the palace to steal food! We will steal honey from the Imperial Kitchen and stamp a leaf‑shaped stain on Father Emperor’s dragon robe!”
As the sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance, Du Heng clenched the plain silk that was still warm from her hand, and suddenly felt a weight at his sleeve.
Looking down, he saw a little yellow dog bring over a leaf of vegetable… the one that had fallen by the stove while he was stir‑frying just now.
He smiled as he buried the leaf in the soil at the base of the wall, then lifted his head to look at the rosy clouds crowning the peak of Zhongnan Mountain.
Who said gewu could not reach the divine?
Those fingertips blackened by the stove fire were quietly stirring the starlight of the Zhenguan era into the everyday smoke and flames of Great Tang.
Granny A Ruan stood at the courtyard gate at some point, the wild strawberries in her hand red as cinnabar.
Looking at the boy’s smile, his face smudged with stove ash, she suddenly felt that there was light in this child’s eyes… a light that could illuminate the earth and also reflect the stars.