Chapter Forty-Seven
On the eighteenth day of the fourth month, in the second year of the Sheng era, the Imperial Grandmother ordered the Crown Prince, the Prime Prince, Princess Taiping, and Wu Youji to be the guarantors, making a vow before Heaven and Earth in the Ming Hall that they would never betray one another. It was inscribed on an iron scroll and stored in the archives.
This month another matter spread through Luoyang, and it happened to originate with me. The Linzi Prince’s residence seemed to be a place jinxed for sons: first the princess lost her child, and at the start of the month Lady Liu repeated the same misfortune. The earlier incident hadn’t yet faded, and with this new one layered on top, all the gossip boiled down to me being labeled jealous.
“Iron Scrolls are nothing but objects; the Emperor actually wants to use them as leverage to make the Li and Wu houses never betray each other,” Father said, shaking his head with a smile. “Your Imperial Grandmother truly has grown old. After so many years on the throne, she guarded against people’s hearts above all—yet now she trusts them so easily.”
I held Yonghui in my arms; her little finger pointed at the pastry mountain on the table. I picked a piece for her, tore off a small bit and put it into her tiny mouth, casually saying, “Putting the throne struggle aside, this might be a good thing. The Turks raised arms because the Li family’s power waned, claiming they acted to help the Li imperial line. Once these Iron Scrolls surface and declare Li Wu will never betray, the Turk khan loses any righteous pretext. He might even aid Di Renjie, turning victory after victory.” Yonghui puckered her lips and blinked; I laughed and broke off another half for her.
The King looked at us, sighed, and said, “If you like children that much, you might as well give yourself one.” I paused, said nothing.
The King continued, “Your father thought Li Longji had been taking concubines one after another and wasn’t very attentive to you, but in the past fortnight what I’ve heard are only rumors of him complaining that your face has grown pale since your illness, of him collecting rouge from across the realm, of birthday gifts he gathered for you, and of him personally entering the palace to beg silversmiths to make ornaments.”
I wiped the crumbs from Yonghui’s mouth for her and forced a bitter smile. “He is extremely good at reading the Emperor’s will. The Grand Empress Dowager ordered the Li and Wu families to swear an oath to Heaven, never to fail it for all time. He has therefore shown me great favor. Isn’t that exactly what the Grand Empress Dowager wanted?”
“Yongan,” my father set down his chopsticks and said to me, “the Emperor asked the other day whether the palace physicians should prepare a few prescriptions. The Prince of Linzi has shown you such favor, yet you’ve shown no sign of pregnancy in the three years since you entered the household. Even the Crown Princess openly asked about it, not to mention the gossip you can’t hear behind your back.” I repeated, “The Crown Princess?”
My father’s face darkened slightly; he nodded.
Lady Wei actually brought this up to my face—what did she mean by that? Wan’er is also quite close to her; could she have said something? My heart thumped; I stared blankly at my teacup. These past six months have been calm, and I’d forgotten about the usually quiet Crown Prince and Crown Princess. If they intended something, could it drag up old secrets?
Someone suddenly tapped my face. When I came to, Yonghui was smiling at me, cooing, “Sister, sister.” I smiled at her, handed her to Xia Zhi at my side, and signaled for the others to leave.
Only when the inner chamber was empty did I look at Father and hesitate, “Has His Majesty mentioned the Prince of Shouchun?” Father considered me thoughtfully and said, “The Prince of Shouchun has had no sons for years. Could it be because of you?” A bitter feeling rose in my chest. The crown prince’s lack of an heir wasn’t necessarily bad for that branch; there were probably more reasons behind it. But judging by Li Longji’s words, it couldn’t be divorced from me.
Father saw me fall silent, shook his head, and sighed, “No one brings it up; everyone avoids the subject. Yong’an, now that you are married into the Linzi princely household, you must stop thinking about it.”
How could I not know that. The strange arrangement we’d kept up these past years had been nothing more than a stubborn insistence between him and me on a single idea—what was already settled long ago, yet I refused to see it clearly. I had agreed to Lord Di’s plan back then so readily, never expecting how hard it would be to carry out.
Suddenly, a voice at the door announced his arrival. I turned to see Li Longji stepping inside. As he walked he smiled at Father and said, “My father-in-law has arrived—why didn’t anyone send word?” Father hurried to his feet; they exchanged a few words before taking their seats. Xia Zhi had already come over beside me holding Yonghui.
Li Longji glanced me over and said softly, “You still look unwell. Have you taken your medicine?” I hummed and raised my cup of tea, deliberately avoiding his question. He didn’t press it, instead turning back to exchange some polite remarks with Father—phrases along the lines of wishing Di Renjie a triumphant return and a crushing defeat of the Turks.
After a while, the father-king took Yonghui away. He glanced at the dishes on the table and said, “Looks like you haven’t eaten much either. I’m hungry. Xia Zhi, prepare a new set of bowls and chopsticks.” Xia Zhi bowed and left. I hurriedly called after her and said to Li Longji, “These are leftovers and cold dishes; I can’t let you eat them. If you want something, have the servants bring fresh food.”
He looked at me in surprise, and after quite a while he said, “You finally agree to speak to me.” I instructed Xia Zhi to replace the leftovers with fresh dishes and told her to fetch some of Li Longji’s usual favorites. Once she had left the room, I turned to Li Longji and said, “The whole of Luoyang already whispers that you do this to win a beauty’s smile. If I don’t make a show of harmony between qin and se, it would all be for nothing.”
He reached for the jade chopsticks and prodded the fish before him. I watched his profile and saw layers of images: a child of seven or eight, an adolescent of twelve or thirteen, and now a tall man with restrained features. He had always been changing, yet his scheming for power had never been concealed; from beginning to end he had been frank about it, including his ambition for the throne.
I said, “If you want to become Emperor Taizong, I’ll help you, but I won’t be Empress Wende, and of course I won’t be the imperial grandmother.” He watched me quietly for a moment and then asked, “Yongan, what are you talking about?” I stared at him and said, “Unless you attain the throne, anyone in that seat from your line is the most vulnerable. So if you mean it, I can’t mastermind strategy, but I can add the finishing touch.”
His eyes were clear, yet they sparkled with light. “You’re willing to stay by my side, then?”
I nodded and said, “Yes.” He stared at me for a long while before saying, “If you didn’t want—” I cut him off, “Arrange for me to see the Shouchun Commandery Prince once. I have something to tell him.” He looked at me in silence, and after a moment gave a wry smile. “Actually, you don’t need to go through me. Tell Xia Zhi, and she’ll naturally arrange it for you.”
I was taken aback. He added, “Xia Zhi belongs to Big Brother. Since he’s placed her with you, she’ll report to me—this was something I tacitly allowed. Xia Zhi is very clever and one of Big Brother’s trusted aides. If something threatens your life, she’ll always help you.” He picked up a piece of fish, chewed it carefully, and after a while spat out a bone. “Yongan, over these years, openly or secretly, whenever you and Big Brother met, when have I ever stopped you?”
I avoided his gaze and watched the servants bring out new dishes, saying nothing further.
The meeting place had originally been set outside the residence; I refused and simply said the study of Li Longji would do.
When I entered, he was the only one in the room, standing by the window. Sunlight filtered through the lattice, casting mottled, irregular shadows across him. I stood at the doorway, as if transported back to that chance encounter in the Daming Palace—had it not been for that search for Luo Binwang’s scroll, I would not have met him in Yidu’s chamber, nor, because of Wan’er’s sudden arrival, walked alongside him since then.
He heard the sound and turned to look at me, smiling as he asked, “Are you feeling better?” I nodded and moved to his side, saying, “Almost. With Shen Qiu’s prescription, he could probably bring the dead back.” He said, “Shen Qiu always complains that you speak harshly to him. Hearing you now, it seems he misunderstood—who would have thought you had such confidence in his skills.”
I smiled at him and said, “If he can save someone who’s had their heart cut out and their belly opened, how could I not trust his medicine? I thought he liked to bicker with people for its own sake; I didn’t expect him to speak of me like that behind my back.” He shook his head with a sigh and said, “That’s just his nature; there’s no need to take it too seriously.”
When I think back to that night, it’s still so vivid.
Watching the man collapsed on the bed, his body covered in blood, Shen Qiu used both bloodied hands to put his organs back in place and stitch the wounds; I could only stand beside the imperial grandmother, anxiously waiting. All along, what I did was cling to hope, waiting for the day we’d be together. But to stand side by side would be so difficult, and I no longer wanted to be someone powerless.
I looked up at him and said, “You’ve been married to Lady Yuan for three years. There are many concubines in the residence, but no heirs—did the imperial grandmother ever ask about it?” He looked at me, then out the window; after a moment he said, “She asked, but didn’t say much. I’m the crown prince’s eldest son; if there are no heirs, it can’t exactly be called a terrible thing.”
At this moment it wasn’t a terrible thing—who could predict what would come later? Like Li Longji with me: at first he deliberately neglected me to curry favor with the Taiyuan Wang clan, and now, having sworn the iron-scroll oath, he must immediately heap me with favor. Everything was just an attempt to guess the emperor’s thoughts.
I was about to persuade him further when he turned away with a smile and said, “Yongan, there’s no need to talk about this anymore. If you want to save our father’s and brothers’ lives, you must take back this realm. The struggle for the throne has always been about winners and losers; I don’t want more people to be caught up in it. From now on, whatever choice you make, I will say nothing. Over the years there have been too many things between us—already far beyond ordinary lovers’ ties.” He looked at me for a moment and said gently, “If one day I should fall, there will be no more descendants of mine caught in fights over the throne — that would be a blessing. If fortune favors me and I take this empire, I hope it will be your child who succeeds to the throne, no matter who the child’s father is.”
My heart tightened; looking at him only two steps away, I found I could no longer speak.
He already understood. What I had come to say today, or perhaps the choice he himself had long since made, needed no further words. Whether I accepted my current status or clung to a love that would lead us further apart, he had already decided.
I lowered my head, bowed, and said, “Since Your Highness understands, this concubine will take her leave.”
The fragment of paper from my youth — the promise he spoke of, I have seen it fulfilled. What I wanted to say may never be spoken in the future, but it no longer matters; no matter whose side I stand on, after the bloody storms to come, my purpose will be the same as his. To keep my father and brothers alive, to take back this country’s rivers and mountains.
Once we have taken each other’s hands, this life is done.