This made Li Shimin anxious, and he wanted to trade one for one with me.

Li Chengqian asked in astonishment, "Father, is this appropriate?"

Li Shimin said in a deep voice, "The students of the Imperial Academy are the future pillars of the court. I cannot allow them to be led astray by Cheng Jun."

"I will go myself to hear what this lad has to say."

.............

The news that Cheng Jun would be lecturing at the Imperial Academy spread like wildfire throughout Chang'an.

This piqued the interest of all the civil and military officials in the imperial court.

The students of the Imperial Academy and the scholars in various neighborhoods also talked about it with great interest.

As for the fans of Cheng Sanlang's fan club, they felt very proud and honored, and took this opportunity to start recruiting new members.

The people inside and outside Chang'an City marveled at this, but that was all they did; they didn't discuss it further.

As the weather gets colder day by day, ordinary people are more worried about how to get through the winter.

This winter is much colder than in previous years.

Therefore, after autumn arrives, more people go deep into the mountains to cut firewood and burn charcoal. Some people also dry the grass they collected at the end of summer, preparing to stuff it into the layers of their clothes to keep warm when the weather gets cold.

Some people collect waste paper to make paper clothes and quilts.

As for lectures, they don't really matter to them. After all, lectures given by people with power and money won't benefit ordinary people like them.

Meanwhile, inside the Cheng residence.

Cheng Jun locked himself in his room, sat down at his desk, and began writing with his pen.

Giving lectures to the students of the Imperial Academy was not a difficult task for him.

As a time traveler, he could readily quote phrases like "When the youth are wealthy, the nation is wealthy; when the youth are strong, the nation is strong" and "To establish a heart for heaven and earth, to establish a destiny for the people, to continue the lost learning of the past sages, and to usher in an era of peace for all generations."

But after finishing writing, Cheng Jun frowned.

Cheng Jun realized that presenting such content to the students of the Imperial Academy did not suit his taste.

It's not that these words are bad; frankly, they are very good and inspiring.

But could such an article change the landscape of the Tang Dynasty?

To think that one could change the Tang Dynasty with just a few words is nothing short of delusional.

Cheng Jun pondered for a long time, crumpled the paper into a ball, threw it into the wastepaper basket, and then started thinking again.

He wanted to give a lecture that could change the landscape of the Tang Dynasty.

However, despite his grand ideas, Cheng Jun found that reality was far from what he envisioned.

He couldn't figure it out.

To be precise, he knew too much, but few of it would be of any use in the Tang Dynasty.

He considered discussing systems and ideologies, but quickly abandoned the idea for one simple reason: it was impractical.

"I need to get something practical..." Cheng Jun pondered, still without a clue, so he got up, opened the door, and went out.

Just as they reached the gate of the mansion, they ran into Cheng Zhong.

Cheng Zhong asked, "Is Sanlang going out of the manor?"

Cheng Jun nodded and said, "I plan to go out for a walk."

After saying that, he looked at Cheng Zhong and saw that his hands were empty, as if he was fine, and asked, "Uncle Zhong, if you don't have anything else to do, would you like to come along?"

Cheng Zhong smiled and said, "Okay, Sanlang."

The master and servant walked out of the mansion gate one after the other, and then walked side by side on the road in Huai De Fang.

As Cheng Zhong walked, he observed Cheng Jun's expression. Seeing his furrowed brows, he asked:

Is Sanlang worried about giving a lecture at the Imperial Academy in five days?

Cheng Jun slowly said, "Yes."

"It feels too vague to just talk about it."

"So I came out to look for inspiration."

Cheng Zhong smiled and said, "Sanlang is becoming more and more like a scholar."

"No wonder the Chancellor of Confucius invited you to give lectures at the Imperial Academy."

Cheng Jun did not respond, but instead observed his surroundings.

Just then, Cheng Jun saw an old man leading an oxcart past him.

Bundles of firewood were placed on the oxcart.

Cheng Jun carefully examined the old man dressed in cloth and noticed that his temples were gray, his face was covered in charcoal ash, and his fingers holding the whip were also pitch black.

The old man glanced at Cheng Jun, then looked away and drove the oxcart away quickly.

Cheng Jun watched him leave, pondering something as he gazed at his retreating figure.

At this moment, Cheng Zhong's voice came into view: "This person is the charcoal seller who often comes to Huai De Fang."

Cheng Zhong pointed to the oxcart and said, "I chatted with him a few times before. The firewood on his oxcart was cut from the Zhongnan Mountains, which are thirty miles outside the city, for winter use."

Cheng Jun was somewhat surprised, "Do we need to go that far to chop firewood?"

Cheng Zhong explained, "The hills near Chang'an belong to either the imperial family or wealthy nobles and merchants. Neither the imperial family nor the wealthy nobles and merchants would tolerate ordinary people going up their hills to cut firewood for sale or for their own use."

"So they had no choice but to go to the Zhongnan Mountains, which are thirty miles away, to cut firewood and bring it back."

Cheng Zhong paused for a moment, then continued:

"Of course, there are also woodcutters who go to the nearby mountains to cut firewood, but they can only bring back about 30 to 50% of the firewood; the rest belongs to the owner of the mountain."

Upon hearing this, Cheng Jun exhaled, and the lines of poetry that had surfaced in his mind materialized at that moment. He whispered in the direction of the charcoal seller:

"The charcoal seller cuts firewood and burns charcoal in the southern mountains."

"His face was covered in dust and soot, his temples were gray and his ten fingers were black."

"What do you do with the money you earn from selling charcoal? You buy clothes and food."

"Pitifully, his clothes are thin, yet he worries that charcoal will be cheap and wishes for colder weather..."

At this point, Cheng Jun paused, and a flash of inspiration suddenly appeared in his mind.

Cheng Zhong stood there, pondering the lines of poetry Cheng Jun had spontaneously uttered, and clapped his hands in praise:

"Sanlang, what a fine piece of writing!"

Cheng Jun smiled, turned around and said, "Uncle Zhong, let's go back."

Cheng Zhong asked curiously, "Sanlang, have you had an inspiration?"

Cheng Jun smiled and said, "I've got it."

"When we get back, have someone get me some wool."

After saying that, he added, "Get more, preferably two truckloads."

Cheng Zhong replied, "Yes, Sanlang."

After the master and servant returned to the mansion, Cheng Zhong immediately took a servant and led two oxcarts to buy wool.

Cheng Jun then had the servants bring him tools for carpentry and blacksmithing, and began to make the two things he wanted.

When Cheng Zhong returned with two cartloads of wool, Cheng Jun was already working on the second item.

Cheng Zhong ordered his men to unload the baskets of wool from the oxcart and move them to where Cheng Jun was.

Seeing the first item that Cheng Jun had already made at his feet, Cheng Zhong examined it carefully.

That thing looked just like a wooden chopstick, but it was thicker and about the length of a wrist to an elbow.

The wooden object, resembling a chopstick, has a small hook inlaid at the top of its head.