Chapter 94: Heavy Snow Sled

臣 absolutely will not betray Your Highness’s great expectations!

Chen Ying gazed at Li Jiancheng in bewilderment, his mind swirling with questions. Could it be that Li Jiancheng was deliberately cultivating his own private forces? Handing these supplies to him was undoubtedly far superior to entrusting them to Yang Wendan.

In truth, Chen Ying harbored a certain misapprehension about Li Jiancheng. As the founding prince of the Tang Dynasty, Li Jiancheng was forthright, lenient, benevolent, and possessed exceptional talent—qualities far removed from the scheming, mediocre figure later painted by his brother Li Shimin in historical accounts.

Li Jiancheng’s military record was in no way inferior to his brother’s. Prior to his appointment as crown prince, he had received repeated imperial orders to lead campaigns, winning resounding victories that secured the stability of the Tang rear. He crushed the rebellion at Si Zhu Zhu Mountain Hai, pacified Pu Prefecture and prepared against the Turks; suppressed the Qihu and annihilated Liu Heitu in Hebei, bringing Shandong under control; stationed troops in Bing Prefecture and prepared against the Turks; and marched to You Prefecture to prepare against the Turks.

It bears emphasis that Li Jiancheng’s defense of the northern frontier against the Turks was a vital prerequisite for Li Shimin’s triumph in the central plains and an essential foundation for the Tang’s eventual unification. Across these campaigns, Li Jiancheng achieved decisive victories on the battlefield and, in internal strife, employed policies of conciliation and pacification, thereby earning the enduring affection of the people.

Following the Xuanwu Gate Incident, when Li Jiancheng lay dead and two hundred thousand Turkish troops stood at the gates of Chang’an, Li Shimin could not escape responsibility. Had Li Jiancheng lived, he would have continued to fortify the northern defenses; the Turks could never have crossed the South Yin Mountains.

On this occasion the Turks had encamped at Ling Prefecture, and Li Jiancheng had insisted on open warfare—the sole deviation from the historical record. Where he once held only Xue Wanche in his retinue, he now commanded Chen Ying as well.

Li Jiancheng gave a grave nod. “You know as well that our Great Tang stands at a perilous juncture. Yet the Turks move like ghosts and shadows. The report of five thousand Turkish cavalry at Wild Boar Ridge is still more than a month old. I do not know whether they have reinforced further. Ling Prefecture lies too close to the Turkish border; reinforcements would reach them more swiftly than us. Therefore I request an imperial decree granting you the right to act with dispatch.”

This revelation stunned Chen Ying further. The concept of “acting with dispatch” carried profound weight. Chen Ying’s formal title was Army General Manager, giving him command of military affairs but no administrative jurisdiction. “Acting with dispatch” changed everything; he could now issue orders within defined limits without seeking fresh imperial sanction. For instance, Di Renjie had claimed that the execution of Xue Qinglin fell within the scope of such authority—yet the same permission did not extend to the execution of others, for that decree had been issued solely to investigate Xue Qinglin’s abuses.

“臣何德何能！” Chen Ying exclaimed.

“疑人不用，用人不疑！” Li Jiancheng replied.

The relationship between people is reciprocal. How you treat me, how I treat you. For an instant Chen Ying’s heart warmed. These eight words were easy to utter, yet few could truly embody them.

Li Jiancheng continued, “What else do you require? Speak freely. Whatever I can resolve for you, I will resolve at once!”

“臣请求将作监拨一百匠户！” Chen Ying said. “Building sleds upon snow is not technically complex, yet the device serves both military and civilian needs with wide-ranging utility. Should the Turks acquire the secret, snow and ice would cease to impede their advance, turning the Tang’s two- or three-thousand-mile border into an open highway for them. Therefore we must conceal the knowledge for as long as possible; the secret of the snow sled must never leak.”

At that moment Chen Ying suddenly grasped why Xu Jingzong had kept the secrets of his high-bridge saddle and double-edged stirrups from being fully adopted by Tang forces—perhaps Li Yuan had feared exposure.

“This palace may decide,” Li Jiancheng replied. “I will assign you two hundred households. The sleds will not be forged in Jiangzuo Jian. Where shall they be built?”

“I am not well acquainted with Chang’an,” Chen Ying answered. “Leave the work at Xun’er Mansion. Every soldier there can be trusted.”

Li Jiancheng moved with remarkable speed. The following morning he met Chen Ying at the mansion; two hours later, at noon, two hundred artisan households had arrived at Xun’er Mansion camp.

Their leader was a ninth-rank supervisor from Jiangzuo Jian, an office responsible for earth and wood crafts, overseeing the Left School, Right School, Middle School, and various specialized workshops. The supervisor, though lowly, commanded respect.

Perhaps because of their differing social strata, Chen Ying harbored no affection for such officials. Yet after the introduction he found himself suddenly respectful before this ninth-rank supervisor.

Lin Chuanfu was a poor boy who had grown up eating from a hundred different kitchens. In the early years of the Great Sui, at the age of fourteen, he had begged outside the Ministry of Works’ Jiangzuo Hall and been conscripted as an artisan. Too young and without a fixed patron, he wandered from workshop to workshop, learning every craft until he became a master who could fashion wood, tile, lacquer, and paint with equal skill—most proficient in the construction trades of Jiangzuo Jian.

His greatest fame came from building dragon boats for Yang Guang. In the ninth year of the Great Sui, during Yang Xuangan’s rebellion, when the rebels besieged Dongdu, Yang Guang’s flagship was destroyed by fire. In the eleventh year, Yang Guang ordered new vessels. Twenty-five years old and already a master, Lin Chuanfu led the project. The ship measured forty-five feet in height and two hundred feet in length, with upper decks containing main halls, inner chambers, and east-west audience halls, and two middle decks crowded with one hundred and twenty rooms. He completed the fleet in a single year.

The feat demonstrated Lin Chuanfu’s extraordinary talent. Overjoyed, Yang Guang promoted him to a ninth-rank supervisor within Jiangzuo Jian. Though the post was modest, it represented a promotion for a low-born artisan; in ancient times even a small official rank lifted a craftsman above common status.

In later generations an ordinary temporary laborer rising to a principal-level cadre would face comparable difficulties.

Chen Ying scanned the roster. The two hundred households represented twelve trades essential to Jiangzuo Jian—trench digging, stonework, heavy carpentry, light carpentry, sawing, bamboo work, tile laying, masonry, bricklaying, kiln operation—plus twenty-six master craftsmen skilled in ironwork, boatbuilding, and cartmaking.

Li Jiancheng’s generosity astonished him. Although Jiangzuo Jian employed more than three thousand artisans, only thirty-six held the rank of master craftsman. Each such master was of greater value than Lin Chuanfu’s modest supervisor post.

Chen Ying outlined the snow sled’s design to Lin Chuanfu and the others. The master grasped the concept instantly and immediately set the artisans to work.

For military transport Chen Ying required heavy sleds, not light ones. Each must measure twenty-two feet in length and roughly two feet in width, capable of carrying over four thousand jin of cargo. When covered in animal hide, the massive vehicle could serve as a mobile shelter.

In a single day the first sled was completed. Lin Chuanfu sent word to Chen Ying.

Chen Ying hurried over to inspect it.