Chapter Twenty-Three: The Fires of War

In ancient times, because families had many children, the degree of favor each received naturally varied. There was, in truth, a simple logic to it: whoever pleased me most, I liked best. Generally, the child who could make their parents happiest was the one most cherished. Previously, that child had been Li Hong, then the youngest, Li Lun, and now it was Li Yuechen, the one most adept at delighting her parents.

Even when she threw a tantrum with the emperor and empress, they weren’t angry—instead, they soothed her gently, coaxing her with soft words. The meal lasted a long time; even after finishing, Li Zhi ladled himself another bowl of hot pot broth, sipping it slowly. Judging by the speed at which he spun his health balls, his mood was clearly excellent.

“This is quite good. Tomorrow at court, I shall introduce it to the ministers,” Li Zhi said, eyeing the hot pot at the center of the table.

Li Yuechen, perched on his lap, grimaced inwardly—there went the patent fee again. Wu Zetian nodded, “And this high stool, it is indeed comfortable. Chen’er, what is its name?”

“I haven’t named it yet. Why not let Mother bestow a name?” Li Yuechen said, reaching for a cup.

Wu Zetian thought for a moment. “It is slightly higher than a Hu stool, and can be leaned upon. Let’s call it a ‘chair-stool.’”

So straightforward! Li Yuechen couldn’t help but mock inwardly. She’d always thought, from the internet’s complaints about Wu Zetian’s penchant for renaming people, that she’d be more creative.

But now… Li Yuechen wanted to raise an eyebrow and say, “Is that all?”

Though she criticized inwardly, her face wore a cheerful smile. “I’ll leave it to Mother’s discretion.”

Tonight’s dinner was joyous for the whole family. Li Zhi even raised his cup to toast with his two daughters born to concubines, with none of the solemnity usual for New Year’s Eve banquets.

Even late into the night, Li Zhi was flushed and in high spirits. If Wu Zetian hadn’t insisted he rest for the sake of his health, he might have chatted all night.

At the gate of Chengxiang Hall, the children all bowed respectfully to see Li Zhi off. Only Li Yuechen raised her hands above her head, forming a heart shape. Perhaps a bit tipsy, Li Zhi grinned and bent his knees, raising his hands to make a heart over his head as well.

The contrast of this scene nearly made Li Yuechen burst out laughing—such a public embarrassment for the Emperor of the Tang! Li Hong and the others were dumbfounded, torn whether to imitate the gesture. Before they could decide, Li Zhi was led away by Wu Zetian and Zhang Chengxin, each holding one of his hands.

Li Yuechen wondered whether, when Li Zhi recalled this mortifying moment tomorrow, he would summon her for a scolding.

Her elder brothers soon departed; Li Yuechen made the heart gesture to them as well, but they, sober and unembarrassed, could not bring themselves to do it and simply left. Her two sisters, however, didn’t mind at all, returning the gesture and wishing her good night.

After seeing everyone off, Li Yuechen returned, washed up with Xiao He’s help, and slipped into bed.

Ah, being a princess was wonderful—no need to wash dishes after dinner.

Hands tucked behind her head, Li Yuechen took a deep breath. Her favored status was undeniable now; all she needed was to bide her time and grow up. As soon as she became a senior princess, she could stop pretending to be a cheerful child every day and finally relax, living a carefree life. She could also observe this era from the perspective of someone from the future.

If, after dying here, she could return to her original world, perhaps she could become a history professor…

With such idle thoughts, she drifted into sleep.

As for the grand court assembly the next day, Li Yuechen was too lazy to attend; it was the same every year anyway.

Not long after the second watch, Li Zhi and Wu Zetian were awakened by Zhang Chengxin, who urged them to rise, wash, and prepare for the morning audience.

Wu Zetian, letting her maid arrange her hair, saw Li Zhi still a bit groggy and asked tentatively, “Does Your Majesty remember last night…?”

“I don’t!” Li Zhi suddenly froze, then shook his head vigorously.

“Oh?” Wu Zetian grinned. “Then let me help Your Majesty recall—a certain incident last night…”

Li Zhi waved her off. “Enough, say no more. Prepare quickly!”

Wu Zetian smiled sweetly and fell silent, but as a long-married couple, she could tell from his expression that he’d remembered last night’s embarrassing scene.

Although there had been a similar incident before in Yan Ying Hall, that time had only involved Wu Zetian and Li Yuechen. Last night, however, not only were all the children present, but there were also countless palace maids and eunuchs around…

Li Zhi took a deep breath, glanced at Wu Zetian, and relaxed a bit, though his cheeks reddened. He was grateful it happened in the palace—had the ministers seen it, he shuddered at the thought.

Dressed in ceremonial court attire, Li Zhi and Wu Zetian proceeded to the court audience. The New Year’s first assembly was always demanding, but Li Zhi was already thinking about selecting some interesting gifts from the foreign envoys for his daughter.

As usual, Li Yuechen rose early, ignoring the court proceedings, and began her morning exercise. After practicing yoga with her two sisters, she ate a quick bite and headed to the courtyard to train.

Suddenly, Shangguan Wan’er appeared at the door, bowing respectfully. “Your Highness, happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year,” Li Yuechen replied, preparing to leave.

“May I join Your Highness in training tomorrow?”

Li Yuechen paused, turned to look at her. “You may. But why the interest?”

Shangguan Wan’er blinked. “Your Highness is a year younger than me, yet already taller… I noticed your movements are slow and seem not too difficult…”

Seeing her earnest expression, Li Yuechen laughed.

“Alright, if you wish to learn, join my sisters and follow me tomorrow. I’ll have Xiao He prepare a fur mat for you,” Li Yuechen said with a smile. “But even if you practice with me, you may not necessarily grow taller!”

Shangguan Wan’er widened her eyes in confusion. “Why is that?”

“Because I started practicing before you,” Li Yuechen chuckled, patting her head, then ran off to the courtyard.

Shangguan Wan’er seemed to be puzzling over whether that meant she could never surpass the princess in height. Zheng, standing nearby, smiled quietly—if her daughter could stay on good terms with the princess, she needn’t worry about her being bullied in the future.

This year’s court assembly was particularly lively—perhaps because the emperor hadn’t stayed up late the night before, the ministers appeared refreshed and energetic. Li Zhi scarcely parted with his health balls, even spinning them during the assembly. Foreign envoys noticed and inquired about them.

Li Zhi proudly explained that it was a gift from the princess, with therapeutic benefits. The envoys were impressed, expressing their intent to imitate the practice in their own countries. No wonder, upon entering Chang’an, they saw many citizens spinning similar balls—the custom had spread from the emperor.

Li Zhi was unstinting in his praise of his daughter, even mentioning her inventions, such as the princess’s plow and punctuation marks. It was clear that her name would be remembered not only in the annals of the Tang, but perhaps far beyond.

On the second day of the new year, Li Yuechen, as usual, accompanied her mother to visit Lady Rongguo.

The powerful genes showed in this ninety-year-old lady—she hadn’t lost her hair, nearly all her teeth remained, and she still enjoyed hearty meals. Even at her age, she had the energy to play with her twenty-five-year-old lover, earning Li Yuechen’s admiration.

The children’s visit delighted the old lady, who had prepared pastries for them. When her granddaughter entered, she tried to hug her, but after a few attempts, she shook her head and released her. “Chen’er has grown; I can’t hold her anymore…”

Li Yuechen, now nearly as tall as her fourth brother Li Lun, had indeed grown.

“From now on, it’ll be Chen’er’s turn to carry Grandmother!” Li Yuechen said sweetly, supporting her arm as they walked inside.

“Good, good…” Lady Rongguo was delighted, letting Li Yuechen help her into the inner hall.

As soon as the children sat down, Lady Rongguo handed out pastries, regardless of whether they were hungry. Li Yuechen knew this would happen and had deliberately skipped breakfast, taking a moderately sized one and nibbling on it.

While listening to the mother and daughter chat, Helan Minzhi entered, bowing respectfully. “Greetings, Your Majesty the Empress, Lady Rongguo, and Your Highnesses!”

A year had passed, but his handsome face was unchanged; the ribbons on his headgear had grown longer, making him look even more flamboyant.

Li Yuechen nibbled her pastry emotionlessly, inwardly mocking him.

“Rise,” Wu Zetian gestured. “You’ve grown a lot since we last saw you.”

Helan Minzhi offered a professional smile, bowing slightly. “Thanks to Aunt’s blessings, all is well.”

“Sit, join us for a chat,” Wu Zetian said casually. She neither liked nor disliked this nephew, as they had little interaction. As for his affair with Lady Rongguo, she couldn’t be bothered, pretending not to know.

“Thank you, Aunt.” Helan Minzhi replied, taking a seat in the last row, diagonally across from Li Yuechen.

Li Yuechen glanced over while chewing her pastry, just as Helan Minzhi was looking her way. The moment their eyes met, he winked his right eye at her.

What the…?

Li Yuechen was startled—was he flirting with her? But then chills ran down her spine; she was only five years old this year!

Upon reflection, perhaps she was overthinking—maybe he simply amused children this way.

Coming from modern society, Li Yuechen didn’t want to judge someone as a pervert based on a small gesture, so she glanced at him again.

This time, Helan Minzhi made no unusual moves, merely smiling at her.

Li Yuechen didn’t dwell on it; she only saw him a few times a year, so out of sight, out of mind.

As they left, Lady Rongguo kept urging Li Hong and the others to talk more. They rarely visited, while Li Yuechen dropped by regularly to chat and keep the old lady company.

This was partly to maintain her persona, and partly because, in a world without the internet, keeping herself occupied was the best way to enrich her life.

This year, there was unusually little snow—even on the Lantern Festival, only a few flurries had fallen. People believed drought might be coming.

In March, Li Zhi and Wu Zetian discussed and issued an edict for a general amnesty, changing the era name to Xianheng.

That same month, Vice Tutor to the Crown Prince, Xu Jingzong, petitioned for retirement due to age. Wu Zetian was reluctant to let him go but had to agree, granting him honorary titles, retirement benefits, and a pair of health balls.

When he departed, the emperor ordered Zhao Renben, Zhang Da’an, and others to escort him—a fitting end to a distinguished career.

Li Yuechen stood atop the city wall, gazing over vast Chang’an, a faint smile on her lips.

Many would leave their names in this era—good or bad, they were the essential punctuation marks of their time.

For the royal family, peace never lasted long.

Barely a month had passed when, as Li Yuechen was playing with Li Zhi and Wu Zetian in Yan Ying Hall, Zhang Chengxin suddenly entered. “Your Majesty, Your Highness, Lord Zhao requests an audience!”

“Summon him!”

Li Zhi waved his hand, instructing Li Yuechen to sit quietly aside, straightening his robes and checking if the tea was ready.

Zhao Renben hurried in, bowing. “Your Majesty, Your Highness, urgent news: Tibet has launched a massive invasion of the Western Regions, capturing eighteen tributary prefectures! The latest report says they have united with Khotan and are now threatening the city of Kuqa!”

Hearing this, Li Zhi and Wu Zetian exchanged glances and stood up together. “Prepare the carriage for the Purple Palace!”

Li Yuechen, sensing a major event, quickly excused herself so as not to cause trouble.

As she left, she mused that war had been constant in the Tang since its founding—always fighting, every few years.

Just after Korea had been pacified, another war loomed.

Li Yuechen considered whether she should offer the formula for black powder to improve frontline safety, but dared not—how could a child know the recipe for such a deadly weapon?

Better to look after herself for now, and only contribute when suspicion wouldn’t fall on her.

After all, the Tang army was formidable; there was no need to worry.

For now, she would focus on being a good child and avoid unnecessary trouble.