Chapter 36: White Cane Sugar

“Mother, don’t worry. Isn’t it your wish to see Chang’an? This thousand-mile horse of mine is truly something; carrying you, it runs faster than the wind itself! In a single day, it can cover a thousand miles...” Ji Xiao strode through the wild mountains, straw sandals on his feet, his aged mother of over fifty on his back, heading toward Chang’an.

“I only think, if in this lifetime there’s still a chance...”

“Mother, leave it to me. When I get to Chang’an, I’ll have the Sage make me a great general, buy a dozen mansions, hire thousands of servants. We’ll no longer have to sleep in a mud hut on a straw mat! We’ll want for nothing—food, clothes, comfort—and there will be people to wait on us!” Ji Xiao was full of grand ambitions, calling out into the wind, the many pairs of straw sandals hanging from his waist swinging merrily.

“We’re poor folk, simple folk. How could the Sage ever take notice of us? You should read more, just dream about it...”

“Mother, absolutely not. When I reach Chang’an, I must become a great general! I must see to it that you live a life of comfort. If needed, I’ll help the Sage conquer the land, subdue all the wild tribes around us, and return with great merit to care for you in your old age. Hahaha...”

Ji Xiao laughed in triumph, his words so bold they could make the only big cow in Watermelon Village fly through the sky—yet his mother was happy, and she laughed with him.

She thought, yes, if before I die I could see what Chang’an is really like, I could tell his father about it in the afterlife. After all, her husband’s greatest wish in life was to become a general in Chang’an. When reunited in the underworld, she would have words for him: Chang’an is such and such a place, so bustling, so full of people—and yes, even foreigners...

The sun rose and set, light chased away darkness, and darkness again shrouded the world.

Ji Xiao put down his aging mother, roasted a rabbit, tore off two large legs for her, and pretended to eat himself, only giving his mother more rabbit after she finished. When night fell and his mother slept soundly, he got up quietly to dig up wild roots to eat—he was hungry, but there was only one rabbit. How could a son eat his fill before his mother?

He thought, once in Chang’an, he would make a name for himself. Though rough and burly, he could lift an eight-hundred-pound stone and throw it far.

After his father’s death, life grew ever harder. He worked other people’s fields, gave more labor for less pay, and market goods were expensive. When their cow died, they could barely survive and had to hunt to get by.

One day, he overheard his mother muttering in her sleep, saying she would be content if, in this life, she could just see Chang’an once.

So began Ji Xiao’s journey—carrying his mother a thousand miles to Chang’an, even spending ten copper coins at the government office for travel documents, a painful expense, yet worth it to fulfill his mother’s dream.

In the past few days, Hua Chuer noticed that the young lady seldom went out anymore. She used to go milk the cow regularly, but with three new servants, the young eunuch Yu Chao’en had taken over. Hua Chuer heard that the big cow had gone wild and kicked Yu Chao’en square on the forehead while he was milking it—when she saw him, there was still a huge hoof print on his brow.

Taking advantage of the young lady’s absence while she was making sugar, Hua Chuer glanced at the papers on the desk—covered in various drawings of things unfamiliar to her: a round object with four legs, something flat like a pan but with a handle, and so on... She couldn’t quite describe them. What exactly was the young lady up to?

Meanwhile, Wu Yueling brought three veteran sugar-makers to a side room in the mansion, now serving as a makeshift sugar workshop.

“Princess, what’s the use of this clay funnel?” Ma Liu asked, puzzled.

“This? It has marvelous uses!” Wu Yueling replied mysteriously, picking up the clay funnel—wide end up, narrow end down—setting it on a stand with a wooden basin beneath.

Ma Liu and the other old craftsmen watched, confused, as Wu Yueling stuffed straw into the funnel’s small opening, poured dark brown sugar in, let it settle, then removed the straw and poured yellow clay water from above, letting it filter through the brown sugar, leaving behind a layer of white sugar powder more than five inches thick.

When she finished, Wu Yueling clapped her hands and said, “Well? Did you see?”

“What is this white frost? And how does pouring yellow clay water not dirty the white powder?” Ma Liu was entranced, immediately asking.

“Princess, forgive me, but isn’t this just wasting a whole vat of good sugar...?”

“Yes, indeed...”

Wu Yueling ignored them—this method was taught to her by her grandmother. She dipped a finger in the sugar powder to taste—truly sweet, much better than the pale yellow rice sugar.

Ma Liu, unconcerned by his friend’s doubts, mimicked the princess, tasting the white sugar powder. No sooner had he put it in his mouth than tears welled up in his eyes.

He fell to his knees, kowtowed repeatedly, shedding all his previous pride. “Princess, this sugar is so very sweet—your humble servant begs you to teach us the yellow clay water sugar-making method. You are truly divine!”

The other two craftsmen, seeing Ma Liu’s reaction, also tasted the white sugar from the funnel. They stood dumbstruck—so sweet, cloyingly sweet, sweeter than honey. Was this even sugar? The princess’s method was terrifyingly effective! (Ah, the prowess of a sugar master is truly fearsome; the sweetness left them drenched in cold sweat!)

The three palace sugar-masters were utterly devoted to Wu Yueling, obsessed with every detail of the sugar-making process and consulting her at every step.

In the following days, Wu Yueling was at her wits’ end. The three old men, as if possessed, sought an audience with her a dozen times a day, begging for instruction. Sometimes they even called out, “We know the princess is here! Please, princess, see your humble servants!” Only to be dragged away by the princess’s guards called by Hua Chuer...

Wu Yueling was in the attic, drawing designs. The brush was not ideal, so she considered making ink pens from goose or chicken feathers, and she urgently needed to create toothbrushes and toothpaste—she hadn’t brushed her teeth in over a year, using only willow twigs and salt.

Most crucial of all was gunpowder—this had to be invented, for even fireworks were unknown in the Tang era.

As Wu Yueling copied the diagrams from her design interface, the three old men’s shouts rang out again from below, this time excitedly proclaiming their sugar powder was ready and begging the princess to judge whose was best.

With no choice, Wu Yueling went downstairs.

“Princess,” the three greeted her in unison, bowing respectfully. When she approached, they said, “Please taste and judge which of our sugar powders is best.”

They opened their carefully wrapped wooden boxes for her to try. Yu Chao’en led a group of guards over, ready to drive them off, but, seeing the princess present, quickly signaled the guards to stop and bowed deeply behind her.

Like a phantom, Hua Chuer appeared at the old men’s side and said to Ma Liu, “I already tried them all—his is the sweetest!”

“What?” The three were already startled, and now the old craftsman to Ma Liu’s right immediately spat in outrage. “No wonder so much sugar powder was missing—I thought it was mice, but it was you, you little thief!”

“What do you mean me? The princess told me to taste it, didn’t you, princess?” Hua Chuer ignored the fat old man and sidled up to the princess, pouting sweetly.

Wu Yueling shook her head, then, seeing Hua Chuer’s pursed lips, nodded.

“Young miss, I’ll just take this medium box with me. Wan’er especially loves this sugar powder—she says it’s delicious.” Hua Chuer picked up the box from the old craftsman on Ma Liu’s left.

“That won’t do—you’re the princess’s servant. How can a servant be so rude...?”

“It’s fine, you can take it. Actually, the box in the middle is still the sweetest,” Wu Yueling said after tasting them all.

The old craftsman on Ma Liu’s left was left speechless and stood quietly aside.

“Princess, what should we call this white sugar powder you’ve created?” Ma Liu, delighted to be praised by the princess, cupped his hands and asked respectfully.

“Let’s call it white cane sugar. You’re planning to present this to His Majesty, aren’t you?” Wu Yueling turned away as she spoke.

Ma Liu, wiping cold sweat from his brow for reasons he didn’t understand, bowed his head. “Of course, all credit belongs to the princess—we will report everything truthfully.”

“Good, you know what to do.” Wu Yueling smiled and returned to the attic.

After the three withdrew, Yu Chao’en quietly made note and passed news of the princess’s sugar-making plans to Gao Lishi.

A few days later, Li Longji hosted another banquet for the Princess Protector of the Nation, praising his adopted daughter’s ingenuity in inventing white cane sugar, far sweeter than the yellow sugar blocks. He ordered all palace sugar-makers to cooperate with the princess, and soon, from the Crown Prince to the princes of the Sixteenth Residences, all came to buy white cane sugar from the Princess Protector.