Tang Dynasty Swordsman.

Li Qiyun stated that positions such as judge and military advisor in the Prince's Palace were also considered "pure stream" official posts. During the reign of Empress Wu Zetian, an imperial edict was issued stating that positions including "prince's clerks, judges, military advisors, judges of Jingzhao, Henan, and Taiyuan, and county clerks and lieutenants" were all considered "pure stream" positions, and that "those from outside the official ranks or those of rank-based official origin" were not allowed to hold them. While we may not necessarily still accept the Wu Zhou edict, it was a common practice, and given your background, it would be difficult to obtain such a position. Even if you did, you would likely face criticism.

Li Tan insisted, but Li Ji simply waved his hand. In the end, Li Tan had no choice but to say, "Very well, I suppose my Qi family is too lowly, and the guards don't take it seriously. Let's wait until we meet Brother Wang, and perhaps there will be a better way to get you to remove this cross-legged turban and restore your status as a scholar."

Just as Li Ji was about to offer a few words of apology, he suddenly heard a eunuch outside the door announce: "The Prince of Fengjie has come to pay his respects."

Li Tan laughed loudly, "This must be because my brother has returned and sent Shi'er to welcome you." He then escorted Li Ji out of the mansion and handed him over to Li Shi.

When he returned to the main hall, he saw an official waiting with his hands clasped in front of him. Upon meeting him, the official asked, "Does Your Highness not wish to recruit Li Ji in order to seek out Mr. Changyuan? Why did you not mention the matter of leaving the town to serve him just now?"

Li Tan smiled and said, "Gongnan should have heard about our conversation just now. Li Changwei firmly declined to serve as a subordinate of my Qi government. If I were to bring up the matter of going to govern a town, he would definitely refuse, thus blocking his own way out. Judging from Changwei's intentions, he wants to see King Cheng first before he will decide on his course of action."

"Rest assured, I know how King Cheng will handle him. This pigeon will eventually fall into my trap!"

Chapter 43, Strategies for Defending Against Barbarians

Li Shi was overjoyed to see Li Ji. After his uncle Li Tan returned to the mansion, he took a step back, faced Li Ji, and bowed deeply with his hands clasped.

Li Ji quickly grabbed him—this crossed-hands salute is reserved for elders, let alone a deep bow—"Why is Your Highness doing this?"

Li Shi said, "Changwei, you kept your promise and indeed found my mother. This kindness is like being given a second life. How can I not accept such a great gift?"

Li Ji said, "This is the Emperor's command and my duty. Your Highness need not take it to heart. Besides, how can I accept Your Highness's courtesy on a main road? Find a secluded place where no one is around, and you can even kowtow to me. Although there are not many outsiders here, there are still guards in front of the Prince's Mansion. You are also followed by your subordinates. It would be very inappropriate for them to see you."

He then lowered his voice and asked, "Is Her Highness Consort Shen still residing in Luoyang?"

Li Shi's face darkened, and he nodded, saying, "Indeed... I have repeatedly pleaded with my father to go to Luoyang to visit his family, but my father said that he could not leave the capital without an imperial edict... I pleaded with the Emperor, but the Emperor only delayed... I even pleaded with the Retired Emperor, but the Retired Emperor could not make the decision..."

He first glared behind him, signaling his men not to follow too closely, then took Li Ji's hand and walked alongside him, lowering his voice to say, "I think Father is so happy in Zhongjing that he's forgotten all about home!"

Li Ji frowned: "Consort Cui?"

Li Shi curled his lip and said, "What is she? Since Father returned to Zhongjing, he has only seen her once. The other day, it was said that he was seriously ill and about to die. I don't know if it's true or not. When the eunuch came to report, Father refused to go and visit her..."

Li Ji suddenly realized that Consort Cui was actually quite pitiful...

Then Li Shi continued, "Do you remember I told you about a seventh brother named Li Jiong?" Li Ji nodded—the body he was inhabiting was not only strong and healthy, but also quite clear-headed and had a good memory.

“Li Jiong’s mother, Lady Dugu, was treated differently by my father since the time of Lingwu. After they returned to Zhongjing, she was loved and favored by him, just like my mother was back then…”

Li Ji thought to himself, "That's normal. After all, Li Chu and Consort Shen have been separated for several years, and their fates are unknown. He must find solace in other women, right? Since his first wife, Lady Cui, is repulsive to him, it's understandable that he would turn to Lady Dugu. Speaking of these nobles with their many wives and concubines, do you really expect them to be faithful to one woman until the end?"

Moreover, I reckon that Li Chu's decision to settle Consort Shen in Luoyang instead of bringing her back to Chang'an was ostensibly to avoid Consort Cui, but in reality, he probably already had little affection for her. Look at his current attitude towards Consort Cui, and with Consort Cui having lost the Yang family's backing, would she dare to treat her concubine poorly in front of her husband? If she dared to say or do anything, Consort Dugu's life would definitely not be easy now, so Li Shi doesn't need to complain to me.

It's just a pity for this child; although he knows his mother is still alive, they are so far apart that he still can't go to see her...

Li Shi had not yet undergone his coming-of-age ceremony—though it was said to be soon—so he was still living with his father, Li Chu, and had not yet moved to the Bai Sun residence. When he led Li Ji into the Prince Cheng's residence, Li Chu was not as enthusiastic as Li Tan; he refused to personally greet him, but simply sat in the main hall to receive him. Upon meeting, the first thing he asked was about Li Bi's whereabouts. Li Ji gave a vague answer, and Li Chu seemed displeased: "Does Changwei suspect me?"

Li Ji hurriedly replied, "I dare not. To tell you the truth, Your Highness, I was escorting my elder brother south to retire when we were attacked by assassins sent by Zhou Zhi..."

Li Chu was taken aback upon hearing this, and leaned forward involuntarily, asking, "Tell me the details quickly."

So Li Ji briefly recounted the incident of Jingjing'er's assassination attempt on Li Bi—the other party's target was definitely Li Bi, not himself. The reason she shot him with a dart first was just to eliminate the threat, but unexpectedly, the female Taoist next to her was the real threat—but he didn't mention the specific location or who the female Taoist who helped him was.

After finishing, he said, "Where my elder brother is, the Emperor knows. Your Highness may ask the Emperor. I truly dare not reveal it."

Although Li Chu was mediocre, he wasn't lazy either, and immediately nodded, "I know." Li Mi's whereabouts were only told to Emperor Li Heng, and even that information leaked out. How could Li Ji possibly trust someone so close to him? Since even his father hadn't explained Li Mi's whereabouts in detail, how could Li Ji dare to say anything?

Like Li Tan, he then asked Li Ji about his views on his future—he had promised Li Ji that he would help him get promoted and rewarded.

Li Chu said, “Jia Huai and Yun Lin have both been granted military ranks. Yun Lin is currently serving in the army of Pugu Huai En, but Jia Huai refuses to go and wants to wait for your return. Therefore, he is temporarily serving in my household. However, the Sage said that Li Ji’s future should be discussed with Master Changyuan. I wonder if Master Changyuan has made any plans for you?”

Li Ji then explained his plans to switch to a civil service position and to go west to join the army and fight against the Tibetans. Li Chu frowned and asked, "You just came from the Prince of Qi? What is his opinion on this?"

Li Ji replied, "The Prince of Qi wanted to hire me as a staff member in his palace, but I politely declined. As for the matter of resisting the Tibetans, I am quite supportive, but as for which route to take or which army to serve, I have no suggestions..." Perhaps he did, but Li Shi suddenly ran over and interrupted him.

Li Chu rested his hands on the table, lowered his head and pondered for a moment. After a while, he instructed his servant, "Bring me pen and ink."

The eunuch brought over a desk and placed it in front of Li Ji, along with writing implements such as brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. Li Chu then asked, "How much do you know about the Western affairs? What do you think we should do to resist the Tibetan invasion, or even force them to retreat? Please write a policy essay for me to read."

Li Ji understood that this was a test of himself, and the test had two aspects. The first was his literary talent—if his handwriting was as bad as a dog's scribbles and his sentences were incoherent, it would be quite shameful to call him a scholar, let alone a civil official. If the dignified King Cheng, the future crown prince, recommended a semi-illiterate person to be an official, wouldn't he be criticized to death in the future?

Secondly, it's about one's understanding and thoughts on the current situation. It doesn't need to be too profound, but you should at least have some knowledge of it before being sent to the front lines. Ultimately, once you're transferred to a civilian post, you won't be a common soldier, or even a low-ranking officer; relying solely on military force would be of no benefit to the country.

Therefore, Li Ji no longer concealed his shortcomings, picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and first wrote the three large characters "御蕃策" (Strategy for Defending Against Barbarians) on the paper in a fair and square manner.

Li Chu, who was six or seven feet away, saw this from a distance and couldn't help but stroke his beard and nod.

Because Li Ji's handwriting was quite good, even if his literary talent was lacking, in many situations, he could barely get away with it by relying on his handwriting.

In those days, scholars practiced calligraphy from the time they learned to read, as writing and literature were inextricably linked—it was unheard of for a literary genius to have calligraphy that was merely mediocre. Of course, ordinary people, mainly the urban class or merchants, would also read and write for the sake of livelihood, but they didn't value calligraphy much. But Li Ji was a scholar, and he aspired to be a civil official; how could his calligraphy be too poor?

Li Chu had no idea that Li Ji used to have terrible handwriting, and that Li Bi had criticized him countless times. The real Li Ji had absolutely no interest in learning, while the transmigrator, accustomed to penmanship in his previous life, had, especially after the widespread use of computers, forgotten most of his calligraphy skills from typing on a keyboard…

So Li Bi couldn't stand it anymore and forced Li Ji to learn calligraphy from him, mainly the regular script of Zhong Shaojing and Ouyang Xun. After more than a year of practice, Li Ji, who already had some basic skills, no longer wrote crooked or weak characters. His calligraphy was barely passable, and he could be considered to have grasped the basics of a middle-grade style.

Next came the essay, which posed no challenge for Li Ji. He had a foundation in classical Chinese from his previous life. While expecting parallel prose and elaborate verses was a stretch, a well-structured and fluent essay would suffice. Besides, Li Chu demanded a "policy essay," and although even policy essays in those days often emphasized parallelism and rhyme, if Li Chu set such high standards, there would be no need for an examination; Li Ji could simply be fired. Li Ji was certain Li Chu wouldn't ask for that, and thus answered without hesitation with a prose essay:

"Now, barbarian bandits are rampaging across the western borders, invading the royal lands and harming the royal people. It is not that the state is incapable of defending them, but it is preoccupied with affairs in the east and has no time to deploy a large army to fight them. As a result, the barbarians are becoming increasingly arrogant, and petty thugs are causing trouble. The western lands are being lost day by day, and many military towns are being destroyed. If we do not urgently devise a good strategy, not only will Longxi be difficult to defend, but I fear that the western capital will also be engulfed in flames..."

The text begins by discussing the dangers posed by the Tibetan Empire, and then incorporates Li Ji's own considerations. He argues that the Tibetan army is unlikely to penetrate deep into the Central Plains, and its furthest eastward advance would probably be towards Xijing (Xiangyang). The true aim of the Tibetan Empire, he believes, is to ravage the prefectures and counties of Longxi, forcing the Tang army to adopt a defensive posture, and then sweep northwards to isolate Liangzhou and Ganzhou, thereby enabling them to attempt an attack on the Anxi Protectorate and annex the Western Regions.

The Tibetans' mode of production was still a mix of pastoralism and agriculture, similar to the various prefectures of Longyou. Therefore, while Longyou was usable, it would be difficult to govern further into the purely agricultural Central Plains, and the gains would easily outweigh the losses. However, the Western Regions were also a mix of pastoralism and agriculture, and there were many kingdoms there. Dividing their strength would weaken them, making it the easiest territory for Tibet to seize and the most convenient to govern—their ambitions were undoubtedly in the Western Regions.

If we want to protect the Western Regions, we must first protect the four prefectures of Liang, Gan, Su, and Gua. If we want to protect the four prefectures, we must first protect Longxi. We cannot allow the Tibetan army to seize the Tao River or even advance towards the Wei River.

Given that most of the troops in Guanzhong have been transferred east to quell the rebellion, it is unrealistic to engage in a decisive battle with the main Tibetan force on the western front. Instead, strategic locations such as Lanzhou and Minzhou should be chosen to recruit civilians who have suffered greatly at the hands of the Tibetans, establishing more military garrisons and attempting defensive counter-offensives. The next step, after pacifying Hebei, capturing and executing An Qingxu, and with the main Western Army returning, is to gradually recover the lost territories of Shanzhou and Kuozhou, pushing the battle line back to the vicinity of Xihai—Qinghai Lake.

Li Ji actually had some ideas about where to build the new military town, and he had even discussed it with Li Bi. However, firstly, plans on paper are not necessarily reliable, and it is necessary to go there in person to observe the terrain in order to draw the most accurate conclusions; secondly, there is really no need to go into such detail in an examination essay.

The article could have ended here with a simple conclusion. However, Li Ji couldn't resist adding an extra paragraph, the main point of which was: Never even dream of destroying Tibet!

Although he had never been to Tibet in his previous life, he had read a lot of related materials and knew that even 1,500 years later, that place would still be sparsely populated, with poor transportation and relatively impoverished people. Therefore, in this era, let alone annihilating the Tubo Kingdom, even attempting to penetrate its territory would inevitably lead to a terrible military disaster.

In some ways, fighting on the plateau is more dangerous than fighting on the grassland.

Li Ji suggested pushing the border to the western shore of the Western Sea, where it would stop. He proposed establishing military garrisons near Fusi City and Dafeichuan, recruiting people to cultivate the land, as a long-term strategy. He reasoned that after suffering such a heavy blow, the Tibetan Empire would likely sue for peace—a scenario that had occurred several times during the Kaiyuan and Tianbao eras.

Peace was possible, but it couldn't be expected to last. Even without the Tang generals recklessly provoking conflict under pressure from the eunuchs, Tibet would inevitably break the peace agreement after recuperating. Therefore, during this brief and precious period of peace, the Tang Dynasty had to find ways to infiltrate Tibet and attempt to divide and weaken it.

Li Ji wrote: "The Tibetan system differs from that of China, but is similar to that of the Uyghurs. Each tribe is governed by its own ruler, and the king is merely a leader of the alliance. Furthermore, there is now a Chancellor, the Lun family, who effectively control the government. Therefore, based on the circumstances of each tribe, we can either appease them to form an alliance, entice them to submit, provoke them into war, or incite them to rebel, ultimately leading to the establishment of a new Zanpu by the Tang dynasty. In the past, the five Xiongnu Chanyu vied for power, causing Huhanye to flee south. This centuries-long calamity finally ended with Chen Tang's defeat of Zhizhi City. If Tibet were to disintegrate and its kings to govern separately, it would not pose a threat to China. Without Tibetan interference, the Western Regions could be secure; without Tibetan aid, Nanzhao could be pacified. Only in this way can the nation reap benefits for a century!"

He wrote over three thousand words in a long and flowing style. After finishing, he put down his pen, blew on the ink to dry it, and presented it with both hands to the eunuch, who then handed it to Li Chu. As usual, he added, "This is a humble opinion I came up with with my elder brother in the past. I hope Your Highness will take a look." Just assume that this was mainly Li Bi's idea; there's no need to be too surprised.

However, after reading it carefully, Li Chu couldn't help but be somewhat surprised. It wasn't because there were any profound insights in the text—frankly speaking, given Li Chu's level, this policy essay was like casting pearls before swine—but rather because he felt that Li Ji's thinking was very clear and his writing was well-organized.

China has historically lacked the concept of "logic." This isn't due to a lack of related ideas, but rather the absence of a suitable term or a rigorous system to guide planning and writing. Furthermore, the flourishing of poetry and prose since the Kaiyuan era led scholars to prioritize style over substance when writing policy essays or officials when writing judgments. Literature, especially poetry, has never been known for its adherence to logic…

Therefore, Li Chu, accustomed to ornate and parallel prose, initially found Li Ji's "Strategy for Defending Against the Barbarians" rather bland—fortunately, he hadn't held out high expectations to begin with—but as he read on, he gradually appreciated the text's rigorous logic. Sentences and paragraphs were tightly connected, progressing layer by layer without any digressions. Although lacking sufficiently brilliant parallelism and any aphorisms, it subtly displayed the style of strategists from the Warring States and Western Han dynasties who persuaded feudal lords and offered guidance on the political situation!

Such writing, of course, would not be suitable for passing the imperial examinations or the classics examinations, and would even fail the policy examinations, but it certainly wouldn't be considered inferior in daily official correspondence in the government office—at least it could clearly explain things.

To be honest, since Li Longji, the literary talents of the princes and grandsons have been declining with each generation. Therefore, when Li Heng gave Li Chu some policy essays, memorials, and official documents to study, Li Chu found it difficult to find the true meaning in those ornate and beautiful words. He often had to underline with his pen to say, "This sentence is useful, this sentence is just an analogy, this sentence is just an allusion, this sentence is just meaningless digression" in order to summarize the central idea.

On the contrary, reading Li Ji's policy essays today, I was able to read ten lines at a glance. The reasoning was smooth and unobstructed, and the meaning was clear and unambiguous. I felt an indescribable sense of joy and comfort in my heart and mind...

Chapter 44, Taking Direct Action

After examining Li Ji's writings and essays, Li Chu put down his policy essay and nodded slightly: "In that case, a civil service position is attainable."

He then suggested to Li Ji that he could write a few lines to ask the Ministry of Personnel to directly grant him a nominal official position, but this would not benefit his future.

The Tang Dynasty's system for selecting and appointing officials was relatively rigorous; it wasn't a matter of any powerful figure simply bestowing a position upon someone. Although Li Chu was no ordinary nobleman—he was a prince—even princes dared not overstep their bounds, lest they incur negative public opinion. Conversely, by being appointed to a position by the prince's decree, Li Ji would inevitably be labeled as someone who had "advanced by chance," which would be detrimental to his future development.

—The main reason is that Li Chu was at a crucial juncture in his bid for the crown prince position, and Ya was unwilling to cause trouble, fearing that the opposing faction might seize on some weakness or use it against him.

Furthermore, Li Chu could only transfer Li Ji to a civil post, not advance him further or appoint him to a specific official position. If it were merely a nominal or honorary post, that would be one thing, but once the file was in the Ministry of Personnel, a substantive position could be granted at any time. Now, Li Fuguo is in power, and his cronies are throughout the court. If he could discern Li Fuguo's intentions, he could directly offer Li Ji a minor post as a magistrate or lieutenant in a remote county. Would Li Ji accept it or not? If he didn't, obtaining a substantive position would be difficult; if he did accept, he would be sent directly to Lingnan, and wouldn't be able to return for five or seven years!

Therefore, Li Chu said, "The only suitable person is a clerk in the Prince's mansion—if I were to hire you as a military advisor in Prince Cheng's mansion, would you accept?"

Li Ji was already prepared for this, so he repeated his reasons for declining Li Tan's offer. He then clasped his hands in a pleading manner, saying, "Just now, while dining in the East Market, I happened to meet an elder of my clan who offered me some guidance..."

"Who?"

"Palace Attendant Censor Zhenyi".

Li Chu nodded: "Then how will he teach you?"

"Zhenyi said that if one wants to join the army as a scholar, there is only one way—to enter the military governor's office."

Since the Tianbao era, the power of the military governors had been expanding, and they often concurrently held the positions of supply commissioner and transport commissioner, taking charge of all local military and political affairs. They gradually began to emulate military campaigns and established their own subordinates, only needing to be registered with the Ministry of Personnel. Unless in certain extreme cases—for example, if the person was actually a criminal wanted by the emperor, or not a scholar at all—the court would not veto their decisions.

Li Qijun suggested that Li Ji simply give up his seventh-rank military post, start from scratch as a commoner, find a military governor, become his subordinate, and then seek an official position to earn a living.

The reason why he could come up with this idea while Li Bi did not is twofold: firstly, this trend had only recently begun and could not yet be considered a shortcut that everyone was eager to take; secondly, Li Qijun himself came from the military governor's office.

He was originally a Jinshi (successful candidate in the highest imperial examination) in the seventh year of the Tianbao era, and was appointed as the registrar of Guanshi County in Weijun. After his term ended, he was too lazy to go to the Ministry of Personnel to queue up again, so he simply went to the Anxi Protectorate on the recommendation of Li Xian, the prefect of Weijun, and joined the staff of Feng Changqing, the military governor of Anxi, as a judge. In the fourteenth year of the Tianbao era, when Feng Changqing was recalled to the capital, he immediately submitted a memorial requesting that Li Qijun temporarily serve as the supervising censor (a nominal position) and military commander (a real post), which was equivalent to treating him as a future governor of Anxi. It was because of this that Li Qijun was able to select seven thousand Anxi soldiers to come east to defend the emperor not long after.

In reality, those like Li Qijun, who were Jinshi graduates but aspired to military service on the frontier, were extremely rare. The offices of various military governors were often filled with unsuccessful candidates, such as Gao Shang and Zhou Zhi under An Lushan. This was because Jinshi graduates were mostly employed for their poetry and prose; having devoted themselves to literature, they often lacked practical experience—at least upon their official appointment—and desired more prestigious positions like proofreader, corrector, or county clerk. Therefore, few had the ability or desire to join the military governors' offices. Conversely, the military governors had no need to specifically select decorative figures from among the Jinshi graduates; they valued ability more than reputation.

Just like graduates and postgraduates from top universities in later generations, they often have high aspirations but low abilities. No matter how dazzling the university's reputation is, many employers are unwilling to hire them, and would rather hire fresh graduates from second- or third-tier universities. Or, graduates from prestigious universities can have two or three years of work experience before submitting their resumes to me.

Of course, more importantly, while not exactly considered upright officials, the future prospects of those working for the military governor were far brighter than those of remote county magistrates or assistant magistrates. The best example is Gao Shi and Gao Fu, who had forced Li Ji to abandon his unrealistic ambition of gaining fame through copying poems. Gao Shi failed the imperial examinations and instead used his poetry to curry favor with powerful figures, eventually being recommended by Zhang Jiugao, the prefect of Songzhou, to take the civil service examination and become the magistrate of Fengqiu. Fengqiu was a remote and insignificant county; if he continued down this path, he would likely never even become a prefect—and Gao Shi was already forty-six years old at that time; he couldn't afford to wait any longer.

Therefore, he resigned from his official post and joined the staff of Geshu Han, the military governor of Hexi, as his chief secretary. At that time, Geshu Han was highly valued by Li Longji, and Gao Shi's career also rose accordingly. After only three years in the staff, he was appointed to the important position of Left Remonstrance Official—a position with a nominal salary—and then transferred to the position of Supervising Censor. After the fall of Tongguan, Geshu Han was captured, and Gao Shi escaped back to Sichuan with Li Longji. He was promoted to Grand Master of Remonstrance and then served under Li Heng, who appointed him as the military governor of Huainan.

From resigning as the county magistrate of Fengqiu to becoming the military governor, it was only a short four years. Is there any carriage in the world that is faster than that?

That's why Li Qiyun said to Li Ji, "Others may not know whether joining the military governor's office is a good or bad path, but I've tried it before and it's feasible. Moreover, it might even lead to a bright future. You might want to consider it, Changwei."

From that moment on, Li Ji had already decided on the path he wanted to take. The reason he still pleaded with Li Chu was to ask Prince Cheng to write a letter of recommendation. He wanted to participate in the battle against the Tibetan invasion, whether to serve in Longyou, Hexi, or Anxi; however—at present, all three towns were without a leader…

The former military governor of Longyou was Geshu Han, who later concurrently served as the military governor of Hexi. However, he suffered a stroke while bathing during his trip to the capital, resulting in hemiplegia. He was then forced to remain in Chang'an and subsequently assigned to Tongguan. The Tang Dynasty successively appointed Wang Sili and Prince Feng, Li Gong, as military governors of Hexi, and Guo Yingyi as military governor of Longyou, but these were all nominal appointments—Wang Sili and Guo Yingyi were serving in the marshal's office during the suppression of the rebellion.

As for the Four Garrisons of Anxi, the former military governor was Feng Changqing. Shortly after being summoned back to the capital, he followed his old superior, Gao Xianzhi, eastward to defend against the rebellion (an army was also established at that time, with Prince Rong, Li Wan, as the marshal and Gao Xianzhi as the deputy marshal). However, they were defeated at the Battle of Sishui and retreated to Tongguan. Soon after, he was slandered by the eunuch Bian Lingcheng and executed along with Gao Xianzhi, leaving the Four Garrisons without a leader. Not long ago, Li Heng appointed Wei Boyu, the former commander of the Shence Army, to succeed him as the military governor of Anxi, but in reality, Wei Boyu still led the Shence Army and was stationed in Shanxian County, never having the opportunity to take up his post.

Li Ji had a certain acquaintance with Wei Boyu—if it weren't for Lao Jing stopping him that day, he might very well have fought with that General Wei—and he had also met Wang Sili and Guo Yingyi several times in the commander's mansion. But that was useless; these men were just figureheads, with no real control over the affairs of the headquarters—especially Wei Boyu, who knew almost no one in the current Anxi Four Garrisons—would they hire him and then send him west? And how would the generals left behind view Li Ji, this colleague who had been parachuted in?

Li Ji is shrewd; he wouldn't deliberately provoke such bad luck.

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That's why I hope Li Chu can find a way to arrange things for me. At least a letter of recommendation from a prince, while perhaps not as weighty as an appointment letter from a military governor, is unlikely to provoke cold shoulders from my colleagues.

Of course, the best way to join the army is through Pugu Huai'en—as previously agreed—but Pugu Huai'en is still Guo Ziyi's deputy general, not a military governor, so it's inconvenient for him to recruit his own subordinates. Besides, judging from the current situation, it will take at least another year or two to pacify Hebei, and Li Ji currently has little interest in fighting a civil war.