My father, Li Shimin, please call me Crown Prince

Chapter 459 Did Tibet just disappear like that?
In the late autumn of the twenty-fifth year of the Zhenguan era, the military tents of the Anxi Protectorate were filled with a mixture of gunpowder smoke and the scent of ink.

Guo Xiaoke held the letter that had been delivered by fast horse from Lhasa.

The neat handwriting on the letter was from Princess Wencheng, but the content stirred his heart: "I earnestly request that the attack on the city be postponed, so as not to harm the innocent people of Tibet."

The memory kept replaying in his mind: several months ago, it was this Princess Wencheng who personally delivered the secret letter revealing the collusion between Tibet and Arabia back to Chang'an, directly to Crown Prince Li Chengqian.

“Father, this letter…” Guo Jin began, but was interrupted by Guo Xiaoke who waved his hand. Looking at his son’s youthful and impetuous face, he said in a deep voice, “Have you forgotten? Just three months ago, Princess Wencheng reported the conspiracy between Tibet and the Arabs to the Crown Prince. Every word she wrote was about ‘Tibet harboring evil intentions and earnestly requesting the Tang Dynasty to take precautions.’ Now she turns around and pleads for Tibet. Do you feel the contrast between then and now?”

Guo Jin was taken aback, then suddenly realized: "You mean... she's caught in a dilemma, torn between public and private interests? She cares for the Tibetan people, but dares not truly disobey the Tang Dynasty?"

“Not only that.” Guo Xiaoke slammed the letter down on the table, his brows furrowed in the flickering candlelight. “What’s more important is the Crown Prince’s side. He already knows the details of Tibet’s alliance with the Arabs and is determined to fight.”

"Now that Princess Wencheng has come to plead for mercy, if we send the letter back to Chang'an directly for instructions, how do you expect the Crown Prince to respond? If he agrees, it would be tantamount to ignoring the betrayal of Tibet; if he doesn't agree, it would seem like he's disregarding the princess's feelings. Isn't this putting the Crown Prince in a very difficult position?"

Guo Jin then understood his father's dilemma and scratched his head: "Then... let's do as your son says and ignore it? Anyway, the princess has already complained to Tibet, so her plea now is not to be taken seriously."

"Foolish!" Guo Xiaoke glared at him. "She is a princess personally appointed by His Majesty! Reporting Tibet earlier was her duty as a princess of the Tang Dynasty; now she is pleading for mercy because of the kindness shown to Zanmeng of Tibet. The Crown Prince values ​​loyalty and righteousness. If we stand up to him, he may not say it, but he will inevitably remember it in his heart."

Silence fell inside the tent, broken only by the faint rustling of armor from the patrolling soldiers outside. Guo Xiaoke paced to the sand table, his gaze sweeping over the area representing Tibet: "The opportunity cannot wait, and the Crown Prince cannot be put in a difficult position. This letter is too hot to handle; we cannot deliver it directly to the Crown Prince."

He stopped abruptly, a resolute glint in his eyes. "Find General Su Dingfang."

"General Su?" Guo Jin asked in surprise, "You mean... we should hand the letter over to General Su for disposal? Wouldn't that make us seem like we're shirking our responsibility? After all, you are the Protector-General of Anxi..."

“This is not shirking responsibility, but weighing the options,” Guo Xiaoke said solemnly. “General Su is the commander-in-chief personally appointed by the Crown Prince. He has been close to the Crown Prince since his days as a prince and understands the Crown Prince’s thoughts best. He knows about Princess Wencheng’s report and is clear about the situation on the front lines. It is much safer for him to decide how to report back to the Crown Prince than for us to ask for instructions directly. The Crown Prince trusts him, so even if the punishment is severe, he will not blame us.”

After a pause, Guo Xiaoke lowered his voice slightly: "Yes, doing so might make us seem cowardly, and might even offend the princess. But right now, preserving the war situation and not putting the crown prince in a difficult position is more important than anything else."

Looking at the gray hair at his father's temples, and recalling his father's cautiousness in the Western Regions over the years, Guo Jin finally nodded: "I understand, son. General Su has just finished deploying defenses in Bolu and sent someone to deliver the letter; it will arrive in half a day. But... should we explain our intentions in the letter? For example, should we besiege them without attacking and wait for his instructions?"

"No need to spell it out." Guo Xiaoke shook his head, carefully folded the letter, and put it into an envelope.

"General Su is a veteran of many battles. He can tell our predicament as soon as he sees the letter. We will just attach a military intelligence report, saying, 'The Tibetans are moving their supplies into the deep mountains. Our army is ready to attack the city and awaits the commander-in-chief's orders.' Let him decide the rest."

He handed the envelope to Guo Jin, his gaze deep: "Remember, this matter is only between you and me. To outsiders, just say 'the princess's letter has been presented to the commander-in-chief,' and say no more."

Guo Jin took the envelope, her fingertips touching the coolness of the paper, and suddenly understood her father's good intentions.

This seemingly simple letter of plea was actually a vortex of family ties and national affairs. These frontline generals could neither disobey the Crown Prince nor miss the opportunity to fight. Entrusting it to Su Dingfang, who understood the Crown Prince best, was the safest way to break the deadlock at this moment.

The wind outside the tent picked up, whipping up sand and dust that whipped against the tent flaps. Guo Xiaoke gazed at the cannon array in the twilight outside the window and murmured to himself, "Princess, oh Princess, this letter of yours has truly presented us with a difficult problem..."

The letter, carrying the weight of a difficult choice, was being delivered by Guo Jin's personal guards on horseback towards Bolu.
-
Inside the Tang army's command tent in Bolu, the candlelight flickered in the cold wind.

Su Dingfang looked at the letter sent by Guo Xiaoke. The letter paper was slightly wrinkled in his rough palm. Princess Wencheng's handwriting, "Temporarily suspend the attack on the city," was like a fine thorn stuck at the critical juncture of the stalemate in the battle.

"General, Guo Xiaoke is clearly throwing a difficult problem at us!"

Lieutenant Wang Yong slapped his thigh, the clanging of armor startling the candlelight: "He is the Protector-General of Anxi, the battle is right under his nose, yet he forwarded the princess's letter, clearly trying to shirk responsibility! We are preparing to attack the city at dawn tomorrow, and this unexpected trouble only adds to the chaos."

Du He stood beside the sand table, his brow furrowed: "General Wang has a point. The Tibetans have only moved 30% of their grain supplies, and the western wall of Lhasa is not yet repaired. Our 'mountain cannons' are already at the city walls. Stopping the troops now would be giving them a chance to catch their breath. Princess Wencheng's intentions are good, but on the battlefield, how can one change course based on a single letter?"

Pei Xingjian shook his head, pointing his finger at the city of Lhasa on the map: "It can't be said that way. Governor Guo is also in a difficult position. After all, she is Princess Wencheng. He dares not ignore her, but he is also afraid that asking Chang'an for instructions will delay the battle. It is a prudent move to pass the decision to our commander. However... whether to send the letter to Chang'an or not, and whether to issue the order to attack the city, is indeed a tricky issue."

Su Dingfang remained silent, reading the letter three times over, his white beard trembling slightly in the candlelight.

He recalled Li Chengqian's instructions before his departure: "In the battle of the snowy plateau, we must not only show our might, but also consider the overall situation."

The word "overall situation" weighed heavily on his mind at this moment. The Crown Prince respected Princess Wencheng, and if he did not send this letter, it would be deceiving the emperor; but if he waited for a reply from Chang'an to attack the city, the opportunity would be lost in an instant, which would be a mistake for the army.

"General, in my opinion, we don't need to pay any attention to this letter!" Wang Yong said urgently. "The princess is in Tibet and is likely to be manipulated by Songtsen Gampo. We can't take her words seriously. We should attack the city according to the original plan, take Lhasa, and then report back to the Crown Prince. At most, the Crown Prince will blame us for acting rashly, which is better than losing the opportunity!"

“That’s not appropriate.” Su Dingfang finally spoke, his voice hoarse but firm. “Although the Crown Prince has delegated power to me, he hates nothing more than concealment. Princess Wencheng’s letter is full of concerns about ‘innocent people.’ The Crown Prince is kind-hearted, but if he finds out later that we suppressed the news, he will definitely be furious.”

Du He hesitated and said, "Then... send it to Chang'an to ask for instructions? But it will take at least half a month to go back and forth. The Tibetans will have already hidden the grain in the snow mountain. By then, let alone attacking the city, I'm afraid we won't even be able to catch up."

Pei Xingjian pondered and said, "Perhaps we can take a two-pronged approach? On one hand, send a messenger on horseback with urgent news to Chang'an, explaining the urgent situation at the front and that our army is ready to attack the city, and requesting the Crown Prince's instructions; on the other hand, proceed according to the original plan, but postpone the general offensive and send small detachments to clear out the outposts around Lhasa City first, so as to maintain pressure and wait for a response from Chang'an."

Su Dingfang nodded slowly, his gaze sweeping over the generals in the tent: "Xingjian is right. But the 'temporary postponement of the general offensive' cannot last too long, at most three days."

After a pause, Su Dingfang solemnly handed the letter to his personal guard: "Send this letter to Chang'an by express courier, with the note: 'The war situation with Tubo is critical. Our army plans to attack the city in three days. We hope the Crown Prince will give instructions.'"

Wang Yong panicked: "General! What if the Crown Prince blames us? He'll say we acted without orders..."

"Blame me?" Su Dingfang stood up abruptly, his sword flashing as it was drawn from its sheath, the glint of the blade reflecting in his sharp eyes. "I am the commander-in-chief, and I will bear all the consequences! If the Crown Prince wants to blame someone, blame me alone, Su Dingfang; but if we lose the opportunity to fight because of waiting for the letter, and the Tubo recover, no one can bear that responsibility!"

He slammed his sword back into its sheath. "Pass on my order: at dawn tomorrow, take the three outposts surrounding Lhasa. The artillery battalion is on standby. If there is no explicit order from Chang'an prohibiting it three days later, bombard the city on time!"

The generals inside the tent exchanged glances and bowed to accept the order. Although Wang Yong still had grievances, he was intimidated by Su Dingfang's resolute decision and dared not say another word.

Looking at the veteran's resolute profile, Du He suddenly understood why the Crown Prince insisted on having Su Dingfang as the commander-in-chief. This courage to take responsibility in a dilemma and to make decisions under pressure was exactly the quality needed on the front line.

The guards hurriedly left with the letter, the sound of their horses' hooves disappearing into the late autumn night. Su Dingfang walked to the sand table, his fingertips landing heavily on the location of Lhasa: "We'll fight our own battle, and send the letter to Chang'an. The Crown Prince is a wise ruler; he will understand the difficulties at the front."
-
Three days later.

Before the morning mist had completely dissipated over the city of Lhasa, a string of lights suddenly appeared on the eastern horizon.

Su Dingfang stood on the hill east of the city, watching thirty "mountain cannons" lined up in neat rows in the morning light, the gunners inserting fuses soaked in hot oil into the cannon barrels.

"Fire!" Su Dingfang's command flag fell, and a deafening roar instantly resounded from the foot of the hill. Thirty cannonballs, trailing trails of smoke, streaked across the sky like thunderbolts hurled by gods, crashing heavily against the western wall of Lhasa.

The city wall, which the Tibetans had spent half a month reinforcing, trembled violently in the firelight. The rammed earth mixed with copper sand wall was like rotten wood chopped by a giant axe. Brick and stone fragments mixed with broken wooden beams shot into the sky, and a gap more than ten feet wide was clearly visible in the smoke and dust.

"The city wall has fallen!" The Tibetan soldiers on the walls of Lhasa screamed in despair.

Their bows and arrows and scimitars became like children's toys in the face of cannon fire. Just as they were about to move stones to fill the gap, the second wave of cannonballs roared in, shattering the arrow towers on the city wall. Severed limbs and fragments of flags flew in the smoke.

Songtsen Gampo stood atop the palace watchtower, his fingernails digging deep into the wooden railing. He watched as the western wall crumbled amidst the roar of cannons, as his proud "Snowy Pass" crumbled like paper, a metallic taste of blood rising in his throat.

Lu Dongzan once said, "We can catch our breath when the heavy snow seals off the mountains," but the Tang army's artillery gave them no chance to delay. Every volley shortened the distance between the city and its destruction.

"Zanpu! The Tang army's musketeers are charging up!" A nobleman scrambled down to the watchtower, his robes covered in dust.

"They lined up at the breach, and lead bullets rained down on us like a storm. Our soldiers couldn't get through at all!"

Gar Tongtsen, his face deathly pale, supported Songtsen Gampo, his voice trembling: "Your Majesty, let's retreat! It will be too late if we don't leave now! The Tang army's cannons are about to bombard the palace!"

He pointed to the snow-capped mountains south of the city: "I have prepared a yak caravan that can retreat into the deep mountains through a secret passage. As long as the Zanpu is still alive, Tibet still has hope!"

Songtsen Gampo's gaze was fixed on the battlefield west of the city. There, Tang musketeers formed three ranks, their volleys of lead bullets weaving a deadly net in the sunlight, and Tibetan soldiers fell in droves, never even having a chance to approach the breach.

The "rolling stone formation" and "hot oil defense" taught by Arab craftsmen were completely useless under the continuous bombardment of cannons and muskets. The so-called fortified city was nothing but a self-deceiving joke.

"Hope?" Songtsen Gampo gave a bitter laugh as he watched another round of cannonballs smash into the corner tower of the palace, tiles and wood chips falling like hail.

"What hope do we have in the face of cannons that can blow down city walls?"

He recalled Princess Wencheng's letter and how he had once mocked the Arabs for "fearing the Tang as if they were tigers." Now he understood that it was not cowardice, but a clarity that came after experiencing despair.

A louder explosion suddenly came from the northeast corner of the city, where noble guards fell in droves, their screams swallowed by the sound of cannon fire.

The nobles in their red robes could no longer contain their panic. They tore off their jade pendants, symbols of their status, and fled eastward into the city, mingling with the commoners, shouting incoherently, "The Tang army is divinely aided! Surrender!"

"Stop them!" Songtsen Gampo roared, drawing his sword, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of cannon fire.

The army had already collapsed, and even Gar Tongtsen was urging him to leave quickly: "Your Majesty! As long as we're alive, we can always rebuild! If we don't leave now, we'll truly become prisoners of the Tang army!"

Su Dingfang watched all this indifferently from the hilltop. After the third round of artillery salvo, the western wall of Lhasa had completely collapsed. Pei Xingjian's musketeer battalion surged into the breach like a tide. Wherever the lead bullets swept, Tibetan soldiers fell in droves, completely unable to organize any resistance.

The so-called "Battle of the Snowy Plateau" was never a real battle from the beginning; it was just a one-sided crushing of firearms by cold weapons.

"General, Tibetan nobles have been spotted fleeing in the east of the city!" a scout reported.

Su Dingfang waved his hand: "No need to pursue. Surround the palace. Disarm and you will not be killed."

He knew that Songtsen Gampo was trapped, and the outcome of the battle was already decided from the very first cannon shot.

From his watchtower, Songtsen Gampo watched as the Tang army's banners were planted atop the city wall, and as his soldiers laid down their weapons and knelt in surrender. Finally, powerless, he lowered his sword.

Lu Dongzan supported him as he watched the Tang army's armor drawing ever closer beyond the palace walls. The last glimmer of light in his eyes went out. They had lost, utterly powerless to resist, defeated by the deafening roar of cannons capable of tearing apart snow-capped mountains.

The cold autumn winds stirred up the smoke of gunpowder and swept across the ruined city of Lhasa.

The echoes of cannon fire reverberated through the valley, the wails of Tibetan nobles mingling with the shouts of Tang soldiers, heralding the end of the snowy kingdom.

Looking towards Chang'an, Songtsen Gampo finally understood: before the sharp edge of the Tang Dynasty's firearms, any natural defenses and bravery were nothing but dust.

So, did Tibet just disappear like that?

(End of this chapter)