Chapter 41: Could It Be That I Remembered Wrong?

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Wen He was bent over, carving something, when suddenly he heard the announcement, "The Princess Consort has arrived." His hand trembled, and a piece of wood inscribed with characters slipped from his grasp. Without bothering to pick it up, he turned his head and saw Changsun Wugou staring at him with a piercing gaze.

“Greetings, Princess Consort,” Wen He said, stepping forward with a warm smile to bow.

Beside him, Li Lizhi had already run off to her mother.

“What is the gentleman doing? Has Qingque made a mistake?” As a mother, seeing an outsider discipline her child so harshly naturally angered her. Yet, recalling that Wen He would not punish Li Tai without reason, she restrained herself and asked gently.

“Your Highness, Prince Wei was disrespectful to his elder brother, so I administered a mild punishment,” Wen He replied plainly before Changsun Wugou.

This virtuous and dignified Empress naturally understood his reasoning.

Sure enough, Changsun Wugou’s delicate brows furrowed slightly as she glared at Li Tai. Li Tai wanted to complain to his mother, but now he feared her punishment would only grow harsher.

“Order that Qingque shall not be served breakfast today,” Changsun Wugou commanded.

She was no indulgent mother. In the Qin Prince’s mansion, whether legitimate or illegitimate, all were both respectful and fearful of her. Even Li Ke kept his head lowered, carefully avoiding her gaze.

“Mother, Qingque was wrong, but he can’t skip meals,” Li Tai panicked further at the thought of no food. He had already been deprived of meat; now no breakfast was worse than death.

“Princess Consort, I have already punished Prince Wei. As the saying goes, rewards and punishments must be measured. So please allow him to have his breakfast,” Wen He interceded—not out of sympathy, but because boys his age were naturally rebellious. Excessive severity would only breed resentment.

“Yes, yes, the gentleman is right. Qingque knows his fault and has been punished. Mother must not punish him further,” Li Tai clung to Wen He’s words like a lifeline, shouting desperately.

His resentment toward Wen He just moments ago had vanished, replaced by gratitude. This gentleman was not bad at all—at least he wouldn’t deny me food.

“Since Wen Xiaolang has spoken, we shall let this matter go,” Changsun Wugou said without hesitation, accepting the opening Wen He had offered.

Wen He glanced at her and smiled wryly to himself. He had worried needlessly. Changsun Wugou was not intent on punishing Li Tai; rather, she wanted him to end the punishment first.

He shook his head helplessly.

By then, the Xuanjia Guards had already unbound Li Tai without waiting for orders.

“A message just came from the front courtyard. General Jinglao has awakened. They intended to summon Xiaolang, but since I arrived, I thought it best for Xiaolang to have breakfast first,” Changsun Wugou shifted the topic, aiming to divert Wen He’s attention from Li Tai.

Wen He understood her meaning and nodded in agreement.

After breakfast, an incense stick’s time had passed.

Wen He had intended to soothe the little girl gently, but she had already taken her playmates outside to play.

He smiled resignedly, bowed to Changsun Wugou, and left the courtyard.

Changsun Wugou chuckled as she watched his retreating figure. Nearby, Li Tai tried to curry favor and report on Wen He’s harshness, but his mother’s expression darkened, and she scolded him sharply, “Yesterday, the Three-Character Classic you studied said, ‘Rong is four years old, able to share pears. The elder brother should know first—copy it a hundred times!’”

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“Ah!” Li Tai stood frozen, stunned.

Changsun Wugou ignored him, took a few steps, and picked up a rectangular wooden block from a desk.

She had noticed Wen He was fully engrossed in carving this item when she entered.

“Are these characters? Is it a seal?” she asked.

“Wen Xiaolang is quite talented for his young age, though the handwriting is somewhat unsightly,” she said, suppressing a smile as she placed the block into a wooden frame.

She was merely curious and did not dwell on it.

As she headed outside, she glanced sideways at a maid.

“Check if anyone has been whispering into Qingque’s ear these past two days.”

…

Front courtyard, residence of General Jing Junhong.

That morning, Yan Liben handed over prepared alcohol to the medical officers, who, following Wen He’s instructions from the day before, applied it to Jing Junhong.

Soon, the fever on Jing Junhong’s body subsided.

In just two hours, Jing Junhong had miraculously awakened. The doctors exclaimed at the marvel.

Even Wen He wondered if the effect was too good to be true. Could it be that he truly had a protagonist’s aura, healing others so swiftly?

Regardless, Jing Junhong had escaped the gates of death and genuinely altered history.

“This is Wen He, Wen Xiaolang,” Yan Liben introduced Wen He as they approached the bedside.

The recently awakened Jing Junhong was still weak but managed to thank Wen He softly.

“Thank you, young sir, for your aid. I owe you my life,” he said.

Wen He did not expect such direct gratitude and shook his head with a smile.

“General, please don’t say that. I merely offered a small suggestion. The real thanks go to the two medical officers and the coroner named A Gui.”

Jing Junhong took it as modesty and was deeply grateful.

“A kind soul indeed, for saving my life without seeking credit. When I recover, I shall drink with you heartily.”

He laughed loudly but accidentally pulled at his wound, wincing in pain.

Those around hurried to assist, pushing Wen He and Yan Liben aside.

“General Jinglao, please rest well. We shall take our leave now.”

Wen He didn’t enter further. Given Jing Junhong’s condition, in ten to fifteen days at most he would be able to get out of bed.

Yan Liben was present and had other matters to discuss.

“May I ask, Yan Kuzhi, are you the overseer of craftsmen in the Qin Prince’s residence?”

“Not exactly in charge, just fortunate to have the prince’s trust to manage some affairs,” he replied humbly with a smile.

Wen He was speechless.

Did ancient people have to be so modest? Wouldn’t it be better to be straightforward?

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They insisted on this kind of humility.

“I have a few matters and would like to ask Yan Kuzhi for help, if possible,” Wen He began.

Before he could finish, Yan Liben eagerly nodded.

“Does Wen Xiaolang have another brilliant idea?”

The previous distillation apparatus had amazed him.

Wen He’s request surely meant another novel invention.

“Not exactly a brilliant idea. I want to ask Yan Kuzhi to help with two things: first, to summon some literate craftsmen; second, to help me write some characters.”

“Hm?”

Yan Liben looked puzzled.

Wen He spoke frankly: “At present, books are mostly copied by hand. If we could carve the text onto stone blocks or wooden boards, then apply ink and press paper onto them, wouldn’t it be much easier to replicate writings?”

Initially, Wen He had considered movable type printing and even discussed it with Li Shimin.

But he found it inconvenient—the process was too complicated and required many people to arrange the typesetting.

Given the literacy rate in Tang Dynasty, recruiting so many to operate would be time-consuming and labor-intensive.

No wonder that even after movable type appeared in the Song Dynasty, woodblock printing remained predominant.

Yan Liben pursed his lips and stared intently.

Wen He thought he had said something wrong.

“Although woodblock printing appeared in the early Tang, it definitely did not exist at this time,” Wen He hesitated.

He recalled the Tang document ‘Hong Jian Lu’ speculated that woodblock printing of ‘Nu Ze’ occurred in the tenth year of Zhenguan, but there was no historical evidence.

The only solid proof was from two centuries later: the ‘Diamond Sutra’ unearthed at Dunhuang dated to the ninth year of Xiantong, 868 AD.

Could I be mistaken?

As he pondered, Yan Liben suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Come, let us go pay respects to His Highness immediately!”

Half a day later, Wen He arrived once more at Xuanwu Gate.

In just one night, all bloodstains inside and outside the gate had been thoroughly cleaned.

It was as if nothing had happened here yesterday.

On the city tower, the solemn aura of soldiers made the terrified people entering the palace lower their heads instinctively.

“Isn’t this Wen Xiaolang? Coming to the palace today?”

Chang He, still stationed at Xuanwu Gate, recognized Wen He at a glance and came forward to greet him.

Wen He and Yan Liben—one a commoner, the other a minor official—were junior before this Lord Leize.

Naturally, they dared not be presumptuous and quickly moved aside.

Yan Liben explained their reason for entering the palace. Upon learning they were not summoned by the Qin Prince, Chang He hesitated.

“To be honest, today is not a good day to meet His Highness on other matters. You may not know, but just now, Physician Li arrived…”