Chapter 115: Vowing to Become Cui Wu, They Part on Bad Terms

Chapter 115: Vowing to Be a Cui Wu — Parting on Unfriendly Terms

Swallows also flitted about in the Eastern Palace, darting through the trees.

Bi’er watched the swallows quietly and said, “Your Highness, I find myself missing Da Hei and Xiao Hei a little.”

The golden eunuch immediately flattered, “Lady Jiang, indeed. The swallows in the Western Capital have grown attuned to Your Highness over time, but those in the Eastern Capital remain rather clumsy.”

“Not necessarily,” the Crown Prince replied. “When the swallows return next year, if you care for them as attentively as the people in the Western Palace do, they will become just as perceptive. But for now, no matter how well you tend to them, with the presence of the young swallows, their vigilance increases, and they won’t be so close to humans.”

The Crown Prince’s words were rather dull, but Di Renjie and the others chuckled.

Bi’er pouted slightly. Even though the Crown Prince spoke, she still felt a small twinge of dissatisfaction.

Di Renjie remarked, “If even beasts behave thus, how much more so humans? Yet some aren’t even as worthy as beasts. Let’s see what kind of man Master Ming truly is.”

Having eased the Emperor’s illness, possessing both magical skills and deep knowledge of the classics, Ming Chongyan had been swiftly promoted beyond the norm to a fifth-rank senior counselor. At last, Ming Chongyan had risen to prominence.

Great care was taken with Ming Chongyan’s visit; Li Wei arranged for him to enter the Eastern Palace during the off-duty times of Di Renjie and Wei Yuanzhong, so that they could observe this “master” from an outsider’s perspective and devise a flawless strategy. Of course, if the master was sensible, matters would be simpler. As for the artifice of sorcery and trickery, Ming Chongyan was not alone in this era; temples and monasteries were countless across the realm.

Seated in a pavilion near a stream, Ming Chongyan was soon summoned over.

A true master always stood apart—his wide sleeves flowing elegantly, his complexion like polished jade, calm and composed, his demeanor even surpassing that of Helan Minzhi by a few degrees.

But the moment Li Wei laid eyes on Ming Chongyan, he felt uneasy. In truth, Di Renjie, Wei Yuanzhong, and Yao Yuanchong were all remarkable men—not necessarily handsome, but each possessed an extraordinary aura. Otherwise, Li Zhi would not have felt both admiration and suspicion after meeting them. Li Wei held no envy toward their presence; rather, he admired them in kind. Perhaps it was a matter of hostility versus friendship, he mused, self-mockingly.

As formalities began, Li Wei hastened to support Ming Chongyan, saying, “Master Ming, no need for such ceremony. I must thank you. In recent years, you have been a great teacher to my four royal brothers. You did not hesitate to travel a thousand miles to the Eastern Capital to ease the Emperor’s illness. Upon hearing this, I was deeply comforted and have arranged this small banquet in the Eastern Palace to express my gratitude.”

“Your Highness, I dare not accept such praise. It is my duty,” Ming Chongyan replied humbly.

“Even duty requires ability. Moreover, your magical skills astonish me. Please, be seated.” Having spoken, he invited Ming Chongyan to sit and instructed the golden eunuch, “Prepare some wine.”

The gathering was not held in the private chambers but in a small pavilion near the brook—a matter of propriety. The chambers were not off-limits to officials, but those allowed inside were usually the Crown Prince’s trusted confidants. Ming Chongyan was not yet among them, and it would seem insincere otherwise.

The scenery was pleasant—a vast expanse of willows and a lotus pond stretching green and lush, with several blossoms beginning to bloom elegantly.

When the food and wine arrived, the eunuch also brought out a small double-handled pot and several small bamboo arrows—for a game called "Tou Hu," a traditional wine-drinking challenge.

The Tang Dynasty had many such drinking games: Calendar Challenge, Headwear Challenge, Gesture Challenge, Flag Banner Challenge, Character Disassembly Challenge, Silent Challenge, Rapid Speech Challenge, Four-Character Challenge, Small-Word Challenge, Thousand-Character Challenge, Poetry Challenge, Classics and Histories Challenge, Hand Gesture Challenge, Dice Challenge, Saddle and Horse Challenge, Toss and Hit Challenge, Blossom Branch Challenge...

Do not underestimate these drinking games. Without real talent, you might as well just drink quietly. Someone like Li Wei, renowned throughout the literary world, would quickly embarrass himself attempting certain games. Or, if he tried the dice game or other coarse challenges, he would surely lose face.

However, such games were usually held among close friends. Given Li Wei’s lofty status, even at a banquet, no one would dare initiate a drinking game without his consent. Moreover, if done poorly, it would offend etiquette and invite official admonishment. So all proceeded smoothly.

Treating Ming Chongyan was no different. Though literary challenges were elegant, they also subtly tested talent. Winning would elevate one above the ministers, while losing brought no honor. Thus, they chose the archaic game of Tou Hu, the throwing of arrows into a pot. Since the Crown Prince was not a warrior, losing was no big deal.

The winner was clear at once. Di Renjie was wondrous in his investigations but poor at Tou Hu. Wei Yuanzhong was a civil official with a fondness for martial arts; skilled not only in combat but also in strategy, having mastered the art from Jiang Rong’s "Map of the Nine Provinces’ Defenses," so he performed adequately. Ximen Chong, a commoner striving for success, devoted himself entirely to study and fared miserably at Tou Hu. Yao Yuanchong, fond of hunting since youth, excelled at archery; while archery and Tou Hu were different, some skills overlapped. The best by far was Ming Chongyan.

As for Li Wei himself, he was the worst, even more so than Ximen Chong.

Bi’er grew anxious watching nearby and could not help but suggest, “Your Highness, change the drinking challenge to Character Disassembly, Four-Character, Thousand-Character, Poetry, or Classics and Histories.”

She could not bear to watch any longer—detestable Ming Chongyan not only nearly always hit the pot but also performed many tricks. Not only did his arrows land inside, but if they bounced out, he was quick enough to catch them and throw again, once achieving over sixty consecutive successful throws. The Crown Prince, however, could barely land four out of ten in the pot; catching them was out of the question, let alone any tricks.

Li Wei was also embarrassed. What appeared simple on television was far more difficult in reality. Historical records mentioned a man named Xue Xiao in the Sui Dynasty who could throw backward and always hit the mark, and a maid in Shi Chong’s household during the Jin Dynasty who could stand behind a screen and hit the pot without seeing it—such feats were astonishing beyond belief.

Bi’er’s suggestion was well-meaning, thinking Li Wei was talented but unlucky at Tou Hu. She believed he would surely excel in literary drinking games. Yet that was not certain; if it came to talent, Di Renjie and Wei Yuanzhong certainly surpassed Li Wei.

The suggestion was declined. Li Wei said, “I have had quite enough wine already. Let us stop the drinking games.”

“In agreement,” they replied in unison. The outcome of Tou Hu was not important; truly, getting the Crown Prince drunk would be undesirable.

After three rounds of wine and five courses of dishes, Li Wei spoke to Ming Chongyan, “Master Ming, you are well-versed in the literature of the Fourth Prince. Such talent I had overlooked. Thanks to the Privy Counselor for discovering you, I thought of him—now in his eighties, frail, yet still laboring for the state. Truly admirable.”

This remark was the real point, layered in meaning. On the surface, it thanked Xu Jingzong; in reality, it subtly reminded Ming Chongyan of Xu’s advanced age and failing health. Afterward, Di Renjie and Wei Yuanzhong exchanged knowing glances at this “master.”

Ming Chongyan maintained his composure, expression calm and steady. “Your Highness is too kind. Whether myself or the Privy Counselor, it is our duty to serve the state. Moreover, the two sovereigns have been gracious; we dare not repay otherwise than with our lives.”

A grandiose but empty phrase.

“Master Ming is too modest. Such sincerity is appreciated. Bring ink and brush.”

The eunuch brought the supplies, and Li Wei wrote a line of poetry: "Luxuriant millet sprouts, nourished by the gentle rains... When Lord Zhao succeeds, the king’s heart will be at peace."

Li Wei’s calligraphy was his pride. Though many outside praised him, few of his works circulated. Perhaps not the finest calligraphy, but each time they saw his bold and vigorous brushwork, Di Renjie and the others felt uplifted.

The calligraphy was secondary; the poem “Millet Sprouts” was about King Xuan of Zhou thanking his worthy minister, Lord Zhao Hu. Offering this poem to Ming Chongyan was a clear gesture of goodwill and closeness.

From the initial attentive hospitality to now gifting a poem rich in meaning, Wei Yuanzhong sighed inwardly. If Ming Chongyan failed to grasp this, he was beyond hope.

“Thank you, Your Highness. I dare not compare myself to Lord Zhao, but I shall be a worthy minister so the two sovereigns’ hearts may be at peace.”

Another grand but hollow phrase, notably mentioning only “two sovereigns,” omitting “Your Highness” or “the Crown Prince.”

Sigh! Sigh!

Li Wei was already vexed. Even Yao Yuanchong and the others had not received such a generous olive branch. Yet Ming Chongyan responded so coldly.

When Ming Chongyan departed, Li Wei turned to Di Renjie. “This man’s hands are very deft.”

“Indeed,” Di Renjie replied. Actually, the Tou Hu game was arranged by him. “See? I am the Crown Prince, a man of great talent, yet I did not choose the literary drinking games to best you. I used the Tou Hu game instead, letting you win. If you had even a bit of insight, you could have gained the Crown Prince’s respect with that alone! Moreover, sleight of hand is essential for illusions—his skill at Tou Hu would hardly be poor. Though this explanation is somewhat forced, it reveals something.”

“This man is a Cui Wuzi,” Yao Yuanchong said.

Cui Wuzi was Cui Zhu, a minister of Qi. His wife, Tang Jiang, was beautiful but had an affair with Duke Zhuang of Qi. After discovering this, Cui Wuzi was furious and asked why she did not resist. She replied that he was a sovereign and, wielding the power of the state, she dared not refuse. She admitted her guilt but could not tell him openly. Cui Wuzi forgave her but, in a fit of rage, killed Duke Zhuang and installed his younger brother as ruler.

In other words, this man was no loyal minister; he was bold, rebellious, and potentially dangerous to the Crown Prince. Whether he harbored ill will or friendliness was irrelevant; he could still harm or even conspire against the Crown Prince. While outright rebellion was uncertain, his hostility toward Li Wei was evident.

Ximen Chong asked in confusion, “What of Tang Jiang?”

Xu Jingzong could understand this. A few years ago, sensing the Crown Prince’s vague dissatisfaction with the Empress, Xu Jingzong grew cold toward him, ultimately becoming hostile to protect his grandson. With his newfound power and cunning, Ming Chongyan was insignificant—a newly appointed minister without a solid foundation at court. So this was puzzling.

Di Renjie shook his head. “Not necessarily. Tang Jiang exists in the form of wealth and status. Ming Chongyan’s foundation is shallow; his magical skills likely depend on the Privy Counselor’s assistance, forcing reliance on Xu Jingzong. Moreover, he may have been swayed by Xu’s manipulations, believing Your Highness’s position insecure and thus seeing no need for closeness. However, this man is troublesome—not only skilled in sorcery but also in medicine. Because of the latter, His Majesty has shown him great favor for years…”

There was another plan: to find a skilled illusionist who could perform similar tricks to Ming Chongyan’s, revealing that these were mere illusions, not magic. Then to find a highly skilled medical expert who could similarly ease the Emperor’s illness. Without these two pillars, Ming Chongyan would be a rootless weed, manipulable at will, and possibly executed immediately for deceiving the sovereign.

But such talents were hard to find—illusionists were rare, and experts able to relieve the Emperor’s chronic ailment even rarer. Thinking this, Di Renjie said, “Your Highness, although this man is disloyal, you must yield.”

Li Wei nodded helplessly. Killing Ming Chongyan would be difficult; his father’s life depended on it. To eliminate Ming Chongyan would cut off some chances of survival for his father. Would his father consent?

Di Renjie and the others also felt helpless. At least while these two people—especially the medical expert—were present, Ming Chongyan was untouchable. Then Di Renjie added, “Your Highness, your marriage to the young lady of the Pei family as Crown Princess will greatly aid you. If you do not mind, you should visit the Pei residence one day.”

[End of Chapter 115]