Chapter Twenty-One: The Second Year of the Zongzhang Era
In this era, people rose early. When the sky was still a deep blue, barely touched by dawn, the entire imperial palace was already awake.
Shangguan Wan’er rubbed her eyes as she entered the main hall of Chengxiang Hall, sitting to the side and watching her mother help tidy up the desk. She helped Xiao He place three rectangular sheepskin mats in the center of the hall.
Before long, Li Yuechen and her two elder sisters emerged and began their morning yoga routine together.
Since arriving here, Shangguan Wan’er had witnessed their peculiar exercises every morning. The movements were slow, each pose held for a long time, but the beauty of their bodies stretching fully was evident.
She crouched nearby, curling up into a tiny ball, hands propping up her chin, her bright eyes blinking curiously as she observed.
It was only after the sun had fully risen that Li Yuechen and her sisters finished and prepared to eat.
Eunuch Fu brought over several steaming flatbreads and millet porridge, placing them neatly on the table.
Li Yuechen sat cross-legged in front of the table, tore off a small piece of flatbread and held it in her mouth, then turned to beckon Shangguan Wan’er.
Seeing the gesture, Shangguan Wan’er rose and approached, “Your Highness, do you have instructions?”
“Come!” Li Yuechen shoved the remaining half of her flatbread into Wan’er’s hands.
Madam Zheng, standing nearby, immediately objected, “Your Highness, this is not appropriate, she—”
“She is still a child, she must not go hungry,” Li Yuechen interrupted, then turned to Wan’er, raising her chin, “I am a princess, do as I say!”
Shangguan Wan’er obediently bowed, “Thank you, Your Highness!”
“Eunuch Fu, Xiao He!”
“Yes!”
Li Yuechen waved them over and whispered, “From now on, you two may take an extra flatbread in the morning to fill your stomachs. But you must not let anyone else know of this!”
Eunuch Fu bowed, “Your Highness is merciful, your servants are grateful for your kindness!”
Xiao He followed suit, bowing her head, and Li Yuechen waved her hand, “Enough, but remember! No one else must know. If I discover you boasting about it outside, I will be angry!”
“Yes, your servant understands!”
“Good.” Li Yuechen dismissed them.
Shangguan Wan’er looked at the flatbread in her hand, still three-quarters left, and tore off a large piece, “I want to share it with mother…”
“No!” Madam Zheng stopped her, “This is from Her Highness—”
“It’s fine!” Li Yuechen took a sip of millet porridge and stood, “I must practice martial arts in the morning; eating too much would not be good.”
The Princess of Xuancheng, nearby, laughed, “Chen’er is truly compassionate!”
“Indeed,” the Princess of Yiyang nodded in agreement.
“You two as well, keep this a secret for me!”
The Princess of Yiyang nodded, “Don’t worry, Chen’er, we also came from the Palace of Yeting. We know the life of servants.”
Li Yuechen nodded and said no more, rising to practice in the courtyard.
She knew in her heart that the more she emphasized secrecy, the harder it would be to keep it, but it didn’t matter.
Her temperament was no longer a secret in the palace. Even if the servants found out, they would only sigh that serving the princess was a blessing.
No one would use this against her. As for Emperor Li Zhi and Empress Wu, they likely wouldn’t mind.
Li Yuechen took her stance in the courtyard, practicing the routines taught by Liu Rengui, now all memorized.
All that remained was constant practice, training her body’s overall strength and resilience.
Shangguan Wan’er stood at the door, nibbling her flatbread while watching Li Yuechen practice.
The princess’s clothes were of the finest fabric, so each punch and kick made a crisp “whu-whu” sound in the air, pleasing to the ear.
But before long, her mother called her back to study and write, and she looked back at the courtyard a few times with reluctance.
She’d lived in the Palace of Yeting since she could remember. Now she had a peer who treated her well, and naturally, she felt differently.
…
Li Yuechen, having recently invented the curved plow and punctuation, felt she’d attracted too much attention, so she decided to lay low for a while.
Every day, apart from writing Journey to the West, she thought of nothing else.
Time passed; the weather gradually cooled, and people wore thicker clothing.
In November, the Japanese envoy came to pay tribute once again, and Li Zhi received them in the Hall of Hanyuan.
Out of curiosity, Li Yuechen again slipped behind the screen in the hall to watch.
Unfortunately, she didn’t see any samurai hairstyles as depicted in Japanese dramas; instead, they all looked like animated Nezha, with two little buns on either side of their heads, which was quite amusing.
Li Yuechen lost interest and did not follow the matter further.
At the end of the month, her fourth brother’s title changed; originally the Prince of Yu, he was renamed the Prince of Ji.
Not only the title, but his name changed as well; the character “Xu” was dropped, and he was now called Li Lun.
Li Yuechen shook her head at this name, thinking it sounded unpleasant, and should have been “Li Jielun.”
…
The family had been in good spirits lately, but soon bad news arrived.
On the third day of December, while accompanying Wu Zetian in the Purple Palace to review memorials, Li Zhi received word: Li Ji had passed away!
Li Zhi and Wu Zetian immediately dropped their memorials, hurried to his residence for a final farewell.
Li Yuechen was stunned by the news, put down her pen, and sighed softly.
In coming to this era, she had learned much she never knew. This general had truly rendered meritorious service to the Tang Dynasty!
Even in Emperor Taizong’s time, when famous generals were many, this elder statesman remained one of the most prominent.
Now, with his passing, it was a loss for the Tang.
Li Yuechen raised both hands, bowing deeply toward the Duke of England’s residence in a gesture of respect.
At the Duke of England’s mansion, the mourning hall was erected; Li Zhi wept bitterly beside Li Ji’s stiffened form.
This veteran had served through three reigns, fought for Tang on all fronts, and could be said to have watched Li Zhi grow up.
After Li Zhi ascended the throne, Li Ji helped him depose the king and install Wu, reclaiming imperial power, becoming one of his closest and most trusted allies.
Li Zhi decreed seven days of mourning, posthumously naming Li Ji Grand Commandant, with the title “Zhenwu,” granting a coffin and permission to be buried alongside Emperor Taizong.
Seven days later, Li Ji’s funeral was held. Li Zhi, accompanied by Crown Prince Li Hong and daughter Li Yuechen, climbed the walls of the old Weiyang Palace, watching the carriage carrying the coffin and weeping bitterly.
Li Hong’s eyes were red as well. Having served as crown prince since the age of eight, he had frequent dealings with this old general and was very familiar with him.
“Cough, cough, cough…”
Li Zhi’s health was poor to begin with; his grief overwhelmed him, and he began to cough violently.
His body weakened, he sank back onto the ground.
“Your Majesty!”
Wu Zetian reacted quickly, supporting him as he sat down, preventing him from collapsing outright.
She gently rubbed his chest to help him breathe.
Li Yuechen hurried over, patting his back, “Father! Breathe! Breathe!”
Li Zhi’s face was flushed, gasping for air.
Zhang Chengxin turned and shouted, “Quick, summon Master Liu! Fetch Master Liu at once!”
“Cough, cough…”
After another bout of coughing, Li Zhi finally recovered, sitting on the ground, tears streaming, panting heavily.
Li Yuechen breathed a sigh of relief, raising her head, “Eunuch Zhang, quickly prepare hot tea!”
“Yes!”
Zhang Chengxin answered and ran off to prepare the tea. Li Yuechen knelt beside Li Zhi, continuing to pat his back.
When the hot tea arrived, Li Zhi nodded, gently patted Li Yuechen’s shoulder, “Chen’er, I’m fine now. Meiniang, you needn’t worry anymore.”
“You nearly frightened me to death!” Wu Zetian finally relaxed, sitting down beside him.
Li Yuechen took the tea, sipped it to test the heat, then handed it to Li Zhi, “Father, it’s not hot.”
Li Zhi nodded as he caught his breath, took the tea, and drank slowly.
“Your Majesty’s health is frail; you shouldn’t grieve so deeply and must calm your emotions!” Wu Zetian advised.
“Yes, I know…” Li Zhi nodded weakly.
Li Ji’s passing had wiped away all the good spirits of the approaching year’s end.
With the emperor’s mood soured, it seemed the entire Tang Dynasty was shrouded in gloom.
…
The red walls and green tiles of the Daming Palace were blanketed in snow. Standing in the front yard of Chengxiang Hall, Li Yuechen lifted her hand to catch a falling snowflake.
The nearly transparent snow melted slowly in her fair palm until it vanished.
Behind her, Shangguan Wan’er emerged with a bowl of hot tea, “Your Highness, it’s cold outside; you should not remain out here long.”
Having stayed here several months, her once frail body had grown much stronger.
The only thing unchanged was those bright eyes.
Li Yuechen took the tea, nodded in acknowledgment.
Yet her mind was still occupied with how to lift Li Zhi’s spirits; bottling up his grief would surely make him ill.
…
After consideration, as a princess, Li Yuechen realized that the only thing she could do was to appeal to family affection.
Given how favored she was, Li Zhi would likely listen.
Having decided, Li Yuechen returned to her chambers and began to sketch.
By afternoon, she handed the finished drawing to Eunuch Fu, “Go to the Workshop Bureau and have them make this as soon as possible. It shouldn’t be difficult.”
“Yes!”
Fu nodded, took the drawing, and left. Li Yuechen wrapped herself in a cloak and went to Yan Ying Hall.
Entering, she found Li Zhi as usual, sitting beside a small stove brewing tea, fiddling with health balls.
His expression, however, was clearly somber.
Today her fourth brother Li Lun had also come to visit, but he was taciturn and not good at conversation, simply sitting in silence beside their father.
Seeing Li Yuechen arrive, Li Zhi smiled, “Chen’er, you’re here, come and sit!”
Li Yuechen sat beside him, “Father, are you feeling better today?”
“No different from usual,” Li Zhi smiled, “It’s nothing; you needn’t worry about me.”
He hardly looked like someone who needed no concern.
Despite her inner complaints, Li Yuechen raised her head, “Father, I wish to ask for a reward.”
“Oh?”
Li Zhi seemed intrigued, raising his eyebrows, “What is it you want?”
“For this year’s New Year’s Eve, could we forgo the banquet? Let our family dine together. The ministers can come to court on New Year’s Day instead.”
Li Zhi did not answer at once, but turned with a puzzled look to Wu Zetian.
Wu Zetian was equally confused. It had always been tradition for the emperor to celebrate New Year’s Eve with his ministers, so why would her daughter request this?
“Why is that?” Wu Zetian asked.
Li Yuechen replied sincerely and earnestly, “You two are busy all year; I just wish, at least for New Year’s Eve, that our family can truly relax together, even if only for a moment!”
Li Zhi looked at Wu Zetian, a smile emerging on his lips.
Her mother looked at her daughter with gratification, but shook her head, about to speak, only to be interrupted by Li Zhi.
“Very well! We shall do as Chen’er says!”
“Your Majesty, this—”
Li Zhi waved his hand decisively, “No matter! I am the emperor of Tang! Such indulgence needs no approval from others!”
Li Yuechen grinned, showing her neat teeth, raising her hands, “Father is mighty!”
Li Zhi now understood the gesture, and raised his hands to gently clap hers, producing a crisp “pop.”
Wu Zetian, witnessing this, shook her head in resignation, smiling as she returned to her memorials.
“Father, I have made a new device. May I arrange the New Year’s Eve celebration this year?”
Li Zhi was in good spirits, waving his hand grandly, “Granted!”
“Father is most mighty!” Li Yuechen cheered, pouncing on him, and the two began to play.
Li Lun watched, seeming a little envious, but his reserved nature kept him from joining in.
Li Yuechen pressed Li Zhi to the ground and turned, “I alone can’t subdue Father, Brother, come help me!”
Obeying his sister’s command, Li Lun finally mustered the courage to join, and the three wrestled together.
Wu Zetian, busy with her memorials, listened to their raucous laughter, feeling overwhelmed.
She wanted to scold them but, seeing the warm scene of adults and children playing together, she simply shook her head and let them be.
After a while, noticing Li Zhi was tired, Li Yuechen quietly pulled Li Lun up, and poured Li Zhi a cup of tea to rest.
Taking the cup, Li Zhi glanced at his children, then remarked, “Lun’er, you ought to learn horseback riding and archery; look, Chen’er is nearly as tall as you now.”
Li Lun turned to look, surprised to find Li Yuechen already at his brow level.
He remembered when his sister was born, she was so tiny, and now she was almost as tall as he was.
Wu Zetian nodded in agreement, “Indeed!”
Li Yuechen muttered inwardly; when she first wanted to learn martial arts, her mother had objected, but now it was just four words—how deeply ingrained was the preference for sons over daughters in this era!
Feeling the unfair treatment, Li Yuechen wanted to leave; she truly didn’t want to see her own mother, who, despite being a woman, favored sons so blatantly.