Chapter Ninety-Four: The Majesty of the Emperor

Inside the Hall of Benevolent Longevity, Li Hong knelt respectfully before his parents, his back straight as a rod, exuding a lively vigor.

Opposite him, Li Zhi rolled a health ball in his hand, sipping tea with a relaxed expression. “Hong’er, do you have any objections to my arrangement?”

Li Hong shook his head gently. “No objections, but… I do have some doubts.”

“Speak your mind,” Li Zhi prompted with a slight lift of his chin.

“If Father and Mother wish for Chen’er to enter the court as an official, it will surely cause a great stir. Are you not concerned about destabilizing the very foundation of the realm?”

Far from displeased by his son’s question, Li Zhi nodded with a look of appreciation. “Your concern is not without reason… but this matter is far from such a threat.”

“Please enlighten me, Father!”

“At its core, this is but a reform by the emperor. In truth, it is simply a question of a daughter’s status.” Li Zhi set down his teacup with a light chuckle. “If she were an ordinary woman, the matter might be troublesome. But as my daughter, it is not so unacceptable.”

Pondering his father’s explanation, Li Hong nodded in understanding. After all, Li Yuechen was no ordinary woman, but a princess of the imperial house.

A father’s affection for his talented daughter, his unwillingness to see her gifts go to waste, and his desire to offer her a stage to shine—these things were not beyond reason.

From this perspective, it was, in the end, the emperor’s own—

“Remember this, Hong’er,” Li Zhi admonished. “As emperor, sometimes it is necessary to be willful.”

Li Hong was momentarily stunned, then grasped his father’s meaning.

People are creatures of habit. If one tries always to be a good person, any misstep will be met with harsh censure. Conversely, if someone is known for unruliness, even a rare good deed will make others think, “He’s not so bad after all.”

It is the same for an emperor. Proclaim oneself a wise ruler, and the ministers will hold you to impossibly high standards. Any small dissatisfaction must be endured. The simplest example is Emperor Taizong, who was often scolded by Wei Zheng to the point of blushing. To uphold his image as a wise monarch, he had to listen meekly, even to the extent of smothering his beloved pet bird with his own hands.

From another angle, perhaps when the late emperor pushed over Wei Zheng’s tombstone after his death, it was a moment of vented frustration?

In this regard, Li Zhi handled matters more deftly. Whether it was elevating Wu as empress or now planning to appoint Chen’er to office, he was prepared to act with decisive authority, allowing himself a measure of imperiousness.

It stabilized imperial power, eased the burden of his own image, and achieved two ends at once.

Moreover, by occasionally being willful or muddled, the emperor set boundaries for his ministers, reminding them not to overstep.

With this in mind, Li Hong pressed his hands to his forehead in a respectful salute. “Your child understands and will remember your teaching.”

Li Zhi rolled the health ball in his hand, a gratified smile on his face as he nodded.

After Li Hong departed, Wu Zetian finally put down her brush, sighing softly. “Your Majesty’s concerns are not unfounded. Compared to Chen’er, Hong’er is still lacking.”

“Their perspectives differ,” Li Zhi agreed. “Hong’er is unashamed to ask for guidance, but relies on others’ advice. Chen’er, however, prefers to find solutions herself—bold in thought and action!”

Wu Zetian smiled. “In that, she is quite like Zhi Nu!”

“Alas, such a disposition is not always advantageous for an emperor,” Li Zhi said with a trace of worry. “Fortunately, we have Chen’er. Otherwise, I would not be at ease.”

…

In the blink of an eye, two days passed. That morning, after practicing yoga with her two elder sisters and Shangguan Wan’er, Li Yuechen dressed neatly and hurried to the court.

It was not just to listen to court news—today, Li Zhi would announce her appointment to office, and she had to see it for herself.

Upon entering and slipping behind the screen, Li Yuechen listened as the officials finished their salutations.

After a litany of tedious news, Li Zhi cleared his throat. “Does any subject have matters to present?”

After a brief silence, Li Hong, seated in the foremost row, suddenly stood, saluted respectfully, and spoke. “Your Majesty, I have a petition! In recent years, droughts have been frequent, causing persistent famine. As crown prince, I have found no solution. Fortunately, Princess Taiping has developed methods to increase crop yields—a great merit indeed…”

As the crown prince recited his ornate speech, the assembled officials exchanged bewildered glances, uncertain of his intent.

Li Hong continued in lofty language, “As crown prince, my virtue does not match my position! Therefore, I request to step aside and ask that Taiping be made crown prince! I beg Your Majesty’s consent!”

“What?”

For a moment, the officials were too stunned to react, frozen in place. Even Liu Rengui, who had suspected something was afoot, stared wide-eyed at Li Hong.

The emperor’s recent order to probe the princess had been startling enough. Now the crown prince wished to resign—what madness had seized this family?

While the officials were still stunned, Li Zhi nodded with utmost seriousness. “Hmm, well reasoned. The increase in grain yields is a blessing for the Tang. With such merit, making her heir is not unreasonable…”

“Your Majesty, this must not be!”

At last, the officials stirred, erupting into loud protest, the court suddenly as noisy as a marketplace.

Lord Censor Le Yanwei, flustered, rose and rushed forward, prostrating himself on the floor. Ignoring his pain, he straightened and, with both his voice and tablet trembling, pleaded, “Your Majesty! This—this must not be allowed!”

From behind the screen, half-concealed, Li Yuechen stifled a silent laugh—not out of mockery, but finding the contrast amusing. These ministers, always so inscrutable, were now so panicked.

“We second the motion!” the remaining ministers cried in unison, their voices thunderous, as if to overturn the Hall of Perpetual View.

From his dragon throne, Li Zhi asked lightly, “Oh? And why not?”

“This… this is because…” Le Yanwei stammered, at a loss for words. The princess was only seven, yet clever and precocious, having invented the princess plow, canned food, and improved grain yields. Her talent was undeniable, as shown in her compositions.

The only possible objection lay in her gender.

Raising his tablet, Le Yanwei steadied himself. “Your Majesty, the princess is a woman—she will one day be married…”

Li Zhi waved his hand. “That is of no consequence. Taiping has entered the Daoist order—she need not marry.”

“But then, would there not be no heirs? In the future…”

“That is easily solved,” Li Zhi smiled. “If Hong’er and the others have children, one can be adopted.”

Le Yanwei was dumbfounded. Why had the emperor gone mad, determined to name a woman as heir?

Judging from his words, his mind was made up!

If this truly happened, it would shake the realm, and the officials’ own positions would be at risk.

Zhang Wenguan, unable to remain silent, also stepped forward. “Your Majesty, from ancient times, the ruler is the model for subjects, the father for sons, the husband for wives. If a woman is made heir, is it not the hen crowing at dawn?”

Noticing his movement, Le Yanwei glanced over. Usually, the two were not on friendly terms, but in such a crisis, all ministers had to unite.

Looking around, Zhang Wenguan saw nearly every official respond with a look, signaling understanding. In such moments, unity was essential.

But when he turned to Liu Rengui, he was surprised to find no response—Liu sat impassive, staring at his nose, lost in thought.

Considering that Princess Taiping was his disciple, such a reaction was understandable. If this came to pass, he would become the Imperial Preceptor—a man above all others!

“Such principles are not unknown to me,” Li Zhi replied thoughtfully. “But if all ancient customs were correct, why did Qin, Han, Wei, Jin, and Sui fall?”

Zhang Wenguan opened his mouth, but found no words.

At this, Pei Xingjian stepped forward. His voice was calm, but every word rang with conviction, steadying the previously flustered ministers.

They realized they had been led astray by the emperor. This was not a matter for debate—a woman as heir was simply unacceptable!

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” Zhang Wenguan now spoke more evenly, “to lightly appoint a woman as heir would shake the world and harm every sector, even endangering the state itself.”

“There has never in history been a woman emperor—how can you be certain it would endanger the nation?” Li Zhi asked.

Le Yanwei took a deep breath. “Think of Empress Lü of Han, the Zhao sisters… Even as consorts, they threatened the realm, let alone as heirs!”

At these words, Wu Zetian’s eyes flashed with sudden cold fury behind the beaded curtain.

Her clear, resonant voice rang out, “Le Yanwei, are you mocking me?”

“I would not dare!” Le Yanwei saluted, though his tone was hard. “Your Highness is the Empress of Tang—please do not take it personally…”

Li Zhi raised his hand to halt the quarrel, changing the subject. “Consorts are consorts, but Taiping is my daughter, which is…”

“Your Majesty! History teaches us the rise and fall of states! Whether consort or princess, a woman in power brings chaos!” Le Yanwei’s voice trembled, his tablet shaking. His lips quivered, eyes reddening, and his tone turned almost to weeping. “I beg Your Majesty to reconsider!”

He pointed to the pillar in the hall, his hand shaking. “If Your Majesty persists in this folly, I will dash my brains out here as a remonstrance!”

“Please, Your Majesty, reconsider!” the ministers chorused.

This display of loyal anguish left the emperor unmoved. As the ministers bowed, a faint smile flickered across Li Zhi’s face before quickly vanishing.

“Enough, enough…” Li Zhi waved dismissively. “I have heard your counsel—rise, all of you! I would not be a tyrant to see you die for your words, Minister Le.”

With the emperor relenting, the ministers rose together. “Your Majesty is wise!”

“Yet, for such merit, it would not do to leave Taiping unrewarded.” Li Zhi’s tone shifted, as if conflicted. “Agriculture is the foundation of our realm—such talent must not be wasted. I think she should be appointed to the Ministry of Revenue. If so, her talents will not go unused, and perhaps yields can rise further…”

After the shock just now, the ministers were no longer surprised; it was clear the emperor was determined to bring the princess into government.

Yet, their momentum spent, and fearing to provoke imperial anger by further resistance, the ministers glanced around uncertainly, at a loss for words.

Lu Xu then stepped forward. “But Your Majesty, there has never in history been a woman…”

“Do not speak to me of ancient custom! If all tradition were right, there would be no Great Tang!” Li Zhi cut him off sharply, raising his voice. “History is a mirror—only by learning from it can Tang move forward!”

Le Yanwei faltered, still trying to remonstrate, but his voice had dwindled to a whisper. “But there has never been a woman…”

Suddenly, Li Zhi stood and strode forward. Even behind the screen, Li Yuechen could feel a true imperial aura rising from him.

He stood tall and proud before the dragon throne, gazing down at the assembled ministers.

The commanding air emanating from him made the ministers bow their heads, unable to meet his gaze.

With a flourish of his sleeve, his voice thundered through the hall like a golden dragon, echoing across the land.

“Then I shall be the one to set this precedent!”

(End of Volume One)