Chapter 122: A Conversation Between Mother and Son, The Magistrate Casts a Spell (Part I)

Returning to the Eastern Palace, Li Wei took a brief look around before settling back into his books.

This was no easy task. Nowadays, reading wasn't just about grasping profound meanings; it was about memorizing facts to reference later. In conversations, one had to avoid aimless drinking games, as some people loved citing classics and anecdotes. If you couldn't remember them, you wouldn't even understand what others were saying.

Don't assume that just because one has transmigrated, they’ve made it. As long as one isn't too foolish and can retain some knowledge, they will always bring fresh perspectives. But if you want to get ahead, what is the point of empty talk or seeking wealth? In this society, even if you possessed the fortune of Shen Wansan, if the state machinery turned against you—or even if a single powerful minister grew to dislike you—a slight tug of the strings would be enough to destroy you. Li Wei remembered a few poems, songs, and couplets, which had their uses, but they were far from enough.

Reading is not the ultimate path, but it is an indispensable one.

The candlelight was bright, a stroke of good fortune; there was no need to rely on the dim oil lamps of common households. Shangguan Wan'er was studying hard, and Bi'er was too, though she kept most of her attention on Li Wei—not for any other reason, but to anticipate his needs so she could serve him at a moment's notice. Li Wei was very fond of this girl; her care was etched into her very bones. However, as Di Renjie had pondered, love is often tied to beauty. If Yang Min hadn't been so stunning, would Li Wei have been so forgiving and magnanimous?

Well, it was better not to dwell on that.

The atmosphere in the Eastern Palace was truly excellent. Although Li Wei would occasionally act out, the palace remained frugal and simple. Influenced by Li Wei, the household was compassionate and industrious. Because of this, the reputation of the Benevolent Crown Prince remained untarnished under Li Wei’s stewardship. Otherwise, Di Renjie would never have proposed this plan, especially when combined with "celestial omens"—such a Crown Prince could hardly be found in the history books. Furthermore, his occasional outbursts weren't necessarily a bad thing; Di Renjie liked them, Wei Yuanzhong liked them, and many other ministers liked them. Emperor Yang Guang had spoiled that dynamic; he was too good at putting on a facade, and when people saw someone who appeared "perfect," they grew fearful. Li Wei’s occasional lapses made him seem less than perfect, which instead came across as a genuine expression of his true nature, something everyone found refreshing.

We shall not dwell on these matters; the complexities involved were beyond what an average person could imagine. In terms of political savvy, were the ancient officials who lived their lives in constant calculation really inferior to the white-collar workers of later generations?

The old eunuch Jin quietly signaled for the attendants to replace the candles so as not to strain the Prince's eyes. The Benevolent Crown Prince was truly a studious one, and the old eunuch remained deeply loyal. Just then, Empress Wu Zetian arrived.

Li Wei harbored a bellyful of grievances against his mother. After all, he had been siding with her, fighting for her grand causes, and doing so much for her. But he dared not show his discontent on his face. He bowed, and Wu Zetian sniffed the air. "What is this scent?" she asked.

"This is a magical art I have prepared," Li Wei replied.

This "magic" required one key ingredient: high-proof alcohol. That is, distilled spirits. The Tang Dynasty didn't have them; the strongest he had encountered was the "Shao Chun" wine from Jiannan, which was only about twenty to thirty percent alcohol—mostly aged wine with the water content reduced. Yet, even with that strength, opinions were divided, and most people preferred wine, which was less than ten percent alcohol, sweet and sour. That was why people drank by the bowl in those days; the alcohol content was low. For instance, Wu Song drank eighteen bowls of wine before fighting a tiger—but try that with eighteen bowls of high-proof Erguotou.

Li Wei had once toyed with the idea of distilling, but soon abandoned it. He knew the principles of distillation from his school days—alcohol vaporizes at a lower temperature, around seventy degrees. If the seal was tight, the temperature controlled, and the cooling rapid, one would get pure alcohol, not water. But knowing how an atomic bomb explodes is one thing; could he actually build one? Besides, even if he could, he wouldn't dare suggest it. With his technical level, even with help, it would take three to five years to research. And there was no need; grain was scarce in the country. If someone pinned the blame on him for wasting bags of grain to produce a single pound of distilled alcohol, he wouldn't be able to bear the consequences. Furthermore, even if he succeeded, would it be welcomed? Not necessarily.

However, extracting two or three pounds of high-proof alcohol for his "magic" was manageable, even if it was a waste. Not far from the bedchamber, the distillation was ongoing—a significant cost, having purchased hundreds of pounds of Jiannan Shao Chun wine and prepared the necessary equipment. Since the afternoon, Bi'er had been busy with the attendants. They had tested the initial output, found the proof too low, and kept refining it. Thus, Li Wei was confident he could baffle Ming Chongyan. One shouldn't underestimate the ancients; they had their own impressive illusions. Ming Chongyan could very well be skilled at walking on knives or plunging into boiling oil. But did he know how to distill alcohol? No. And that would be how he would slowly humiliate him.

Wu Zetian smelled the aroma of the wine.

"You foolish child, what kind of magic is this?" Wu Zetian said indifferently, before changing the subject. "I heard that you went to the mansions of the various ministers tonight... Are you trying to pressure your father? Hong'er, you must not do this. The woman of the Yang family is already disgraced; she is but one girl. If you want a good wife, there are many in this world."

Li Wei did not answer.

There were millions of unmarried girls in the Tang Dynasty; it wouldn't be hard to find someone more beautiful than Yang Min. But people are not made of wood or stone, and even beasts have feelings. When he arrived in this world, he knew nothing; Bi'er had guided him, helping him adapt so that no one would notice his strangeness. Then he encountered this beautiful girl, who had been kind to him from the start.

To betray Yang Min for benefits he wasn't even sure he could secure was something he could not do.

Of course, talking to his mother about "women's intuition" would surely invite her disdain. Besides, what is called "women's intuition" doesn't necessarily make for a bad ruler. He didn't know much history, but he knew Emperor Renzong of the Song Dynasty was a ruler with plenty of "women's intuition," and if one were to look through Chinese history, those few decades were arguably the happiest times for everyone from ministers to commoners.

If he fought back, his father would grow anxious, and his mother would grow even more so.

"Hong'er, I just received news. That animal Helan Minzhi was dragged off his horse and strangled by his own wicked servants by the Xiang River. This should settle your grudge."

Wu Zetian had killed Helan Minzhi, and mentioning it now had its own hidden intent, but it was good news nonetheless. Li Wei finally spoke: "Mother, in terms of wisdom, I am not even a thousandth of you. Surely you can see that Ming Chongyan hasn't just pointed his spear at the Yang girl? If he succeeds this time, he could point it at me next. In the Western Han Dynasty, did the witchcraft scandal start with the Crown Prince?"

"Hong'er, the witchcraft scandal is recorded in history; I will never let such a thing happen."

This was another statement with a hidden meaning—a vague promise. But Yang Min was still doomed. Di Renjie was right; it wasn't about Yang Min, but about his parents needing this "supernatural" case. That was why the old man eight hundred miles away dared to instruct Ming Chongyan to do this. But since they were reasoning, things were manageable. Li Wei took Wu Zetian's hand, though this time he had no ulterior thoughts; he simply used the gesture to convey his feelings.

He spoke slowly: "In the past, the Prince of Wei told Emperor Taizong that if he were to inherit the throne, he would kill his own sons and pass the throne to his brother. Taizong was displeased. If he could kill his own children, could he be better to his brother? The logic is the same. I am very dull, but I am not a bad person at heart. This is what you and Father value and love most about me. If I can betray the woman I love today, then what of tomorrow? I would never dare to be disrespectful to you or Father, but what about my younger siblings? Would you truly love a son who is so cold-hearted?"

When it came to reasoning, his former profession had been teaching and explaining, so he was quite skilled. He had dismantled the first point with great logic. He continued: "The disaster is rare in history. Father is anxious, and you are too. But Mother, have you ever thought that the will of Heaven is unfathomable, and whether it truly relates to human affairs? When the Lady of the Pei family entered the palace, she wrote a poem called 'The Millet Seedlings,' which pleased you. Why? Because it reflects a truth: King Xuan of Zhou was not lacking in virtue, yet the drought he faced was far worse than today's."

It was only after talking to Pei Yuhe that he realized she had written that poem. Upon hearing it, Li Wei couldn't help but look at her several times; there were so many poems in the Book of Songs, how had she thought of that? And it wasn't as if she had been prepared; no one could have predicted that his mother would ask her to write something.

"I don't know about others, but I have seen many victims of the disaster. Though they are sorrowful, they hold no resentment toward the Imperial Court, nor toward you and Father. I have said this many times—not to flatter you, but from the bottom of my heart, I revere you both. Actually, the disaster itself is not terrifying. In the time of Yu and Shun, the great floods were a disaster, yet the entire country worked together, and Yu tamed the waters for nine years, bringing great peace. Is the current disaster as severe as that? You and Father have done well, worrying day and night, and the Dharma assembly at Baima Temple was a great step forward. That is the sincerity that brings success. If Heaven has eyes, it will surely bestow blessings. Why must we lead this toward ghosts and spirits that even mortals cannot understand? The people had no such thoughts, and by leading them there, you only invite unnecessary controversy. Furthermore, the Empress knows what kind of person the Yang girl is. If I were to divorce her as Crown Princess, that would be one thing—I have already defaulted to this, having persuaded her to be but a consort, which would fulfill both my wishes and your reputation regarding your relatives. But to dig up this 'witchcraft' case means the entire Yang household will surely perish. Is it truly witchcraft? Does this not count as a lack of virtue?"

Having seen her for so long, the fear remained, but it was no longer so overwhelming. His temperament was gentle, and he found himself chatting naturally with his formidable mother.

Yet, he sighed inwardly: whether it was a lack of virtue or not, he feared his mother did not care.

He continued: "Mother, my wishes are truly small, and everything is fine as it is. Father is benevolent and frugal, which moves the people. You are unparalleled in wisdom, filling in the gaps for Father. Perhaps I could offer a few clever ideas to add luster to your rule. What hurdle could our family not overcome? Even if history records this, the historians would only sing our praises. Mother, why go out of your way to add ornaments that are not needed, only to create more trouble?"

He used family affection to touch her heart, while subtly hinting: I only want to offer clever ideas to bring you glory; I have no desire to fight for power. This was what his parents valued most.

He continued: "Who I envy most is my younger sister. Seeing her act spoiled toward you and Father, I have often wished to do the same..."

"You foolish child, that is inappropriate. You are an adult; you must mind your manners."

"Yes."

But the old eunuch, Li Cheng, muttered to himself: *Your Highness, it is not just manners. If you were to lie in your father's arms, your father’s frail body would be crushed. As for resting in your mother's arms... Amitabha, forgive me, forgive me...*

However, from beginning to end, Li Wei did not mention the matter of Xu Jingzong. Xu Jingzong was less of a lackey to his parents than he was a lackey to his mother. To make his mother turn against a dog she had kept for so many years based on mere speculation was unlikely. Perhaps the ministers' memorials would give his parents a hint, but he shouldn't expect anything to happen to Xu Jingzong.

"Hong'er, you used to be quite inarticulate. Did Di Renjie teach you to say these things?"

"No. Di Renjie only taught me two words: filial piety. These are my own heartfelt words. If you don't believe me, you can feel for yourself."

Wu Zetian allowed Li Wei to place her fair, delicate hand on his chest and pondered for a moment. What she was thinking, Li Wei could not guess, nor was he foolish enough to try. Finally, she said: "Today, by parading those women in public, you have already lost the face of the Imperial clan. Your father heard of this in the palace and was furious. Do not do it again."

The effect had been achieved; whether to continue tomorrow was no longer important. Li Wei replied: "As you command."

"Another day, have them all come to the palace so I can see them." With that, Wu Zetian left. She had not stated whether she would spare Yang Min. Of course, coming to the palace might be beneficial for Yang Min, but not necessarily—if his mother ordered her execution on the spot, there would be no chance for rescue. Moreover, the identities of Di Renjie's two foster daughters were not yet ready to be revealed...

What did his mother truly mean?