Chapter 50: The Skill

Amid the bustling days, time slipped by remarkably fast. In just over ten days, it was already February of the seventh year of the Daye era. The weather remained bitterly cold, with a light snowfall drifting down.

Li Po’s life suddenly grew quiet, for only two horses remained in the stable. Li Gongcao’s men, having been beaten and scolded, soon led the horses away, harboring slight resentment but stopping short of further action—clearly aware that the old man was not to be trifled with.

From Yuan Lang, Li Po learned that this so-called Li Gongcao was the nephew of Li Jing, the youngest son of Li Duan, Li Jing’s elder brother. Li Duan had inherited the title Duke of Yongkang in his youth but fell out of favor after siding with Shi Wansui against the left minister Yang Su. After Shi Wansui was killed by Emperor Wen, Li Duan was stripped of his position and reduced to a commoner due to military failures, even implicating his younger brother Li Jing.

From that moment on, Li Jing—once a rising star basking in early success—suffered his first heavy blow, which foreshadowed two decades of mediocrity. He never set foot in Chang’an again and, after many years, barely managed to attain the rank of county magistrate.

Naturally, Li Po was unaware of these intricate resentments, but the tone with which Yuan Lang spoke about Li Gongcao and his father suggested that the relationship between Li Jing and his brothers was far from harmonious. Of course, none of this concerned Li Po in the slightest, and he quickly dismissed it from his mind.

What he did grasp clearly from these accounts was the immense power of familial ties in the Sui dynasty—more formally, the deep-rooted influence of the patronage system. Indeed, the tax officer at the city gate was Li Jing’s wife’s nephew; the head official of the various departments was Li Jing’s nephew; even the stablemaster was Li Jing’s cousin’s husband. And these were just the connections Li Po had encountered—how many more lay hidden?

This was merely a glimpse through a narrow opening. If Li Po remained in his humble position, he might never truly comprehend the profound strength of Sui’s aristocratic clans.

Thus, the spring of the seventh year of the Daye era passed lazily for Li Po. Having escaped hunger and cold, he ate his fill each day.

He had become well acquainted with Yuan Lang, though the old man remained difficult to please, prone to sudden outbursts as if his throat would close or his thoughts falter without them.

The horses in the stable were gradually ridden away, some to Yanmen, others to Jinyang—signs of something unusual. As a professional groom, Li Po sensed the impending footsteps of war, though it seemed to bear little consequence for him.

The name Goguryeo (though distinct from the later Goryeo dynasty, the term was used for familiarity) began to circulate more frequently.

Li Po had no desire to listen closely, nor to risk his life for the Sui dynasty or seek glory through battle. War was all too familiar to him—only cannon fodder died in those fights, and he, if sent, would surely be the worst kind of fodder, easily perishing multiple times on the front lines.

With fewer warhorses in the stable, the work of the grooms nearly halted. After an initial busy period, Li Po found renewed vigor in his role. While teaching Li Chun to tend the horses, he also learned much from the old man.

The old man’s true skill lay in blending feed—crafting mixtures that horses would relish without upsetting their stomachs, keeping them lean without adding unhealthy fat. This art was no simple feat, and feed formulation was one of the most crucial tasks for grooms.

What irritated Li Po was the old man’s bad temper and his tight-fisted secrecy. Like many of his era, he hoarded his knowledge as a family secret, guarding it as one would guard against thieves, showing no willingness to share or teach.

But as the saying goes, a traitor within is hardest to guard against. Growing close to Yuan Lang, Li Po would ask questions and study the recipes, and within a month, he could produce premium feed himself. As for basic feed, that required little effort.

To Li Po, such secrecy was nonsense. In this day and age, most skills were honed by practice and relentless effort.

Thus, he held the old man’s selfishness in contempt.

Moreover, Li Po was not without talent himself. His strength lay in taming warhorses. In just a few days, he earned their trust; soon after, each horse greeted him warmly. Even the two steeds belonging to the county magistrate would come running from afar at his whistle.

Such ability was nearly a unique skill, for cultivating such habits in warhorses usually took years of constant companionship.

Of course, Li Po had a natural gift; achieving this was not too difficult for him. He had grown weary of such play on the grasslands.

Yet Li Chun’s eyes sparkled with admiration, and Yuan Lang’s envy was plain to see. Even the old man was stunned for a long moment at their display.

Li Po was unlike the old man—skills are not possessions to be carried to the grave; there is no need to treasure them selfishly. True mastery lies in teaching others, especially when they can never quite reach your heights.

Hiding knowledge only diminishes oneself.

So, Li Po treated Li Chun and Yuan Lang equally, explaining everything from horse behaviors to small tricks with clear, logical detail.

Once explained, the magic vanished. The wonder came only from his deep understanding of horses’ hearing, sight, taste, and sensitive spots—the nuances of what made them comfortable.

Like a person, if you know what they love to eat, hear, see, and play with, winning their favor is effortless.

The results were excellent. Li Chun and Yuan Lang played with the horses so thoroughly they nearly drove the magistrate’s prized mounts mad, only stopping at the old man’s furious roars.

Li Po’s standing immediately improved. Though the old man still glared fiercely, he never again scolded or struck him.

Finally, Yuan Lang willingly called Li Po “brother,” and Li Po proudly became the second groom in the stable—just beneath one, and above two others.

But Li Po’s talents extended beyond this. In little time, he earned equal status with the old man and even secured a minor official post for himself.

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