Chapter 104: The Lu Zhaolin Society Death Incident

Watching the procession slowly set off and eventually vanish from sight, Li Yuechen remained on the city wall, resting her chin on her hands, elbows propped on the battlements.

“Yuechen, why haven’t you returned yet?” Li Zhi asked.

“Big brother has gone back. I feel a bit sad,” Li Yuechen replied. “There will be a period when we won’t see each other.”

Wu Zetian, standing nearby, smiled and gently patted her head. “It’s nothing. Chang’an isn’t too far from here. If there’s anything urgent, sending a swift horse for a message would take only two or three days.”

Li Yuechen nodded. “Mm.”

After agreeing, she regained her cheerful mood and joined Li Zhi and his wife to chat in the Renshou Hall.

At least from their attitudes, it seemed that her recent public statements hadn’t offended Li Zhi; in fact, there was a subtle hint of support.

This outcome was not unexpected to Li Yuechen. After all, Li Zhi had previously invited her to join the court, which already showed his unconventional mindset.

...

As October approached, Li Yuechen accelerated the lessons she was giving to the village children at the imperial farm.

The children were quite clever and eager to learn, writing characters on the walls daily with charcoal sticks and retaining them well.

Li Yuechen planned to introduce math lessons next year. Since the children lived in the village, they could practice by calculating crop yields, which should help them grasp the concepts more quickly.

The only regret was that she couldn’t teach the children martial arts. Otherwise, it could provide them with a path to join the army in the future.

The Tang Dynasty valued military accomplishments. If one could rise through the ranks, it was possible to achieve social mobility and change one’s fate.

Unfortunately, martial training required proper nutrition, and she currently lacked the funds to provide the children with daily meat to sustain intensive training.

There was also the risk of injury to consider.

After all, these children were not like her. She was naturally strong, perhaps even gifted.

Moreover, after training, she would take herbal baths, a luxury beyond their means.

Thus, she could only teach them academics. Whether they would have a chance to go to the battlefield and earn military honors remained uncertain.

After finishing her lessons that day, Li Yuechen went to inspect the fields.

Various signs had been erected along the edges, recording different fertilizer formulas for comparative experiments.

After her inspection, finding nothing amiss, she nodded in approval, returned to the village, and boarded the carriage to leave.

The carriage jolted along the road back to the palace. Fuk Lai, noticing her somewhat melancholic expression, couldn’t help but ask, “Your Highness, is something troubling you?”

“Money,” Li Yuechen sighed. “Providing them with paper and brushes for study is too expensive.”

Fuk Lai nodded. “Indeed, paper prices are exorbitant. Shops in the southern market cannot supply enough.”

This was one of the reasons learning was so costly in this era.

As for papermaking... Li Yuechen found herself at a loss.

She had studied it in theory, but only on paper. She had never visited a papermaking workshop and did not know the practical process.

But if necessary, it was worth trying. If the cost of paper could be lowered, the price of recorded information would fall accordingly.

More than a thousand years later, information had become extremely cheap.

At this time, the popular paper was rattan paper, generally reserved for the royal family or the nobility.

Slightly lower quality was hemp paper, which was not very good—fragile and thick.

“Then, send someone to inquire about current papermaking techniques,” Li Yuechen instructed. “Ideally, find a papermaker to speak with me directly.”

Fuk Lai looked troubled. “Your Highness, that might be unwise. Papermaking workshops in the city are controlled by powerful families. If they find out...”

He didn’t finish, but the memory of the recent failed kidnapping attempt on Li Yuechen was still fresh.

Though the attempt had been thwarted and many conspirators executed, pressing the issue could provoke greater backlash.

“Must we make a big show of it? Let’s be discreet,” Li Yuechen waved her hand.

Though as a princess, she could force a craftsman to come and explain, doing so might spark a series of troubles.

Even the emperor himself lacked the strength to oppose all the powerful families.

If relations were irreparably damaged, it could lead to chaos.

Ultimately, the problem lay with the system.

Though it was an absolute monarchy, imperial power was not centralized—more like a large corporation.

...

The emperor was the CEO; the noble families were shareholders. Though the emperor appeared to be the boss, the shareholders wielded considerable influence.

Thinking of this, Li Yuechen scratched her head. History books had mentioned that during the Ming and Qing dynasties, imperial power was highly centralized.

But those dynasties had tragic ends, suggesting that concentrated power was not necessarily beneficial. If an incompetent ruler came to power, the consequences could be disastrous.

This thought gave Li Yuechen a headache. She desired to minimize the suffering and disasters on this land.

Yet she realized that whether power was dispersed or concentrated, neither was an ideal solution.

Perhaps a new system, suited to the current environment, needed to be devised.

Moreover, she would require sufficient strength to implement it, which meant gaining the emperor’s support.

But how many years did her father have left? It was hard to say. Throughout history, few emperors lived long lives.

When the throne passed to her mother, would she support such reforms?

Pondering these vexing questions, Li Yuechen felt sleepy and leaned back in the carriage to rest.

The slow, jolting ride was just right for dozing.

Seeing her close her eyes, Fuk Lai fell silent, contemplating how to fulfill the princess’s request.

As the carriage entered the eastern city, the surroundings grew lively.

Passing by bustling market streets with taverns, laughter and merriment spilled out.

Li Yuechen, not fully asleep, opened her eyes and stood to draw back the curtain.

She noticed a group of wealthy young men on the street, their faces full of disbelief as they spoke.

Notably, the folding fan Li Yuechen had invented had now spread beyond the palace and was successfully copied.

Because the fan surface required silk, it was costly and beyond the reach of ordinary people.

Yet many young noblemen had discovered it was a perfect status symbol, making it a must-have among the dandy set.

Though it was still early October, these young men carried the fans in their hands—odd, since none were opened.

Curious, Li Yuechen watched as four or five of them headed toward a nearby tavern.

She smiled, pulled back the curtain, and beckoned to the accompanying gatekeeper.

“Your Highness, any orders?” he asked.

“Fetch that one for me!” Li Yuechen pointed to the thinnest among the group, Liu Huang.

“Understood!”

The gatekeeper approached Liu Huang, who was about to enter the tavern with his companions.

He was stopped by a man in plain clothes wielding a horizontal saber.

“Who are you?” Liu Huang asked, lifting his head. “Why block our way?”

“Young master, someone requests your presence,” the gatekeeper replied with a bow.

One friend scoffed, “Oh, such airs, huh?”

Liu Huang raised a hand to silence him, recognizing the gatekeeper’s face but unable to place it.

He stepped forward and quietly asked, “Who is it?”

“Princess Your Highness. The carriage is just outside the market gate,” the gatekeeper whispered.

Liu Huang nodded, turned to his friends, and gave a slight bow. “You go ahead. I’ll be right back.”

He then hurried to the carriage, respectfully saluted, and said, “Greetings...”

“No need. Come aboard,” Li Yuechen’s voice called from within.

Liu Huang nodded and climbed up, lifting the door curtain to enter.

Inside, he bowed again before kneeling by the door.

“Your Highness, what is your command?”

Li Yuechen asked, “I returned today and heard laughter everywhere. Has there been a joyous event?”

Liu Huang smiled slightly, producing a piece of paper from his robe. “Not a joyous event, but...”

He handed over the paper while explaining softly.

After listening, Li Yuechen nodded in understanding.

Simply put, a man named Lu Zhaolin had suffered social disgrace.

The name sounded familiar, as though she had seen it multiple times in her language textbooks.

Apparently, a few years ago, he had gotten a girl pregnant in the Bashu region and then disappeared.

Coincidentally, recently Luo Binwang passed through Bashu, met the abandoned woman, and upon hearing her story, immediately wrote a scathing poem.

After some time, the poem reached Luoyang and quickly spread among the common folk.

This was one of the rare celebrity scandals of the age, and the entire city was abuzz.

The poem Liu Huang brought was titled “Romantic Reply from Lady Guo to Lu Zhaolin,” quite lengthy.

Although Li Yuechen was not well-versed in poetry, she grasped the gist: he had been unfaithful and abandoned her.

In ancient times, entertainment was scarce, so celebrity gossip could last for days or even years. Clearly, this man was in for a hard time.

Having understood the matter, Li Yuechen didn’t linger. After a brief chat, she returned to the palace.

Back at Anfu Hall, she found her two elder sisters and Shangguan Wan’er present and shared the gossip, showing them the poem.

Her sisters’ interests diverged; the Princess of Xuancheng focused more on the incident itself, while the Princess of Yiyang admired the poem.

Shangguan Wan’er also praised its literary merit.

With nothing else pressing, Li Yuechen sat down to chat with them.

After dinner, the Princess of Yiyang and Shangguan Wan’er continued to analyze the poem, seemingly intent on uncovering the story behind it.

Li Yuechen suddenly wondered: after such a scandal, could Lu Zhaolin still face the world? In a society that prized reputation, could he continue his life?

She pondered this because, in the future, the Tang capital was in Chang’an, and she could not stay here forever.

Eventually, she would need to hire a teacher for the children, though she did not know who could teach them well.

It was said that under great reputation, there are true talents. Since Lu Zhaolin was a recognized literary talent, his cultural depth was unquestioned.

If he could be invited to teach at the school she hoped to establish, it would be ideal.

With this thought, Li Yuechen nodded.

Before sleep, she instructed Fuk Lai, “Tomorrow, find out where Lu Zhaolin is. I wish to meet him.”

“Understood!” Fuk Lai replied.

The next day, Li Yuechen visited the Armory Workshop to check on the progress of the Tang blades she had commissioned.

Crafting a quality weapon in this age was slow, especially when a princess specifically requested a gift for the sage—there could be no mistakes.

Though work had begun, it was still in the early stages; the blades had not yet taken shape. Craftsmen continued their relentless hammering.

Watching blacksmiths strike the glowing iron repeatedly on the anvil, Li Yuechen marveled. Was this “hundred-times forged steel” truly hammered and folded a hundred times?

She wasn’t certain but trusted the workshop supervisor’s confident promise that the blades would be ready by year’s end.

With such assurance, Li Yuechen asked no further questions. The task was not beyond skilled professionals.

After leaving the armory, she intended to inquire about the experimental blast furnace plans.

After so many days without news, she wondered if the team was avoiding her for fear of blame if the project failed.

She wanted to urge them on; the sooner the furnace was ready, the sooner its benefits could be enjoyed.

Before she could seek them out, Fuk Lai arrived.

“Is the matter settled?” Li Yuechen asked.

He had gone out early, and she had expected it would take time. Yet he had returned before dusk.

Fuk Lai looked troubled. “Your Highness, Lu Zhaolin... has been arrested.”

“Arrested?” Li Yuechen frowned. “For what crime?”

“Actually, no crime,” Fuk Lai whispered.

Hearing this, Li Yuechen frowned deeper. “Did he offend someone?”

Fuk Lai hesitated, lowering his voice. “It seems to be connected to Your Highness’s cousin, Wu Sansi...”