Chapter Fifteen: The Eccentric Gentleman and the Little Girl

“I’ll tell you a joke too,” he said.

“Great!” Li Xian and Li Xulun clapped their hands.

Li Wei began, “A county magistrate was interrogating a suspect. The suspect answered that his zodiac was the pig. The magistrate was furious: ‘I’m a pig myself, and you dare to claim you’re a pig too?’ The suspect replied, ‘Sir, I truly am of the pig zodiac—I was born in the twelfth lunar month.’ The magistrate realized the suspect wasn’t insulting him, sighed, and said, ‘I was born in the first month.’ The suspect, now more clever, answered loudly, ‘That’s perfect! You’re the pig’s head, I’m the pig’s innards!’”

This joke was far more amusing than the previous one.

Everyone bent over, laughing. Even the little girl, usually disdainful of Li Wei, burst into laughter. Because she was in the midst of losing her baby teeth, her laughter whistled between the gaps.

When the laughter faded, Li Xian asked, “Brother, how is your health?”

“To be honest, it’s a bit embarrassing. Not long ago, I caught a chill in the rain and fell gravely ill—fevered, unconscious for a day and night. When I awoke, Bie’er was crying nonstop. I reflected deeply and sought ways in books to strengthen my body, hoping for improvement. Surprisingly, it worked,” he said, half truthfully.

The Five Animal Frolics already existed, though the version Li Wei found at the Scholarly Pavilion differed from the one he practiced, and he dared not change it, unsure which was right. As for the Eight Brocades, there were already Daoist breathing exercises at this time, many jealously guarded by their practitioners, showing no obvious flaws. Martial arts were similar. Running was practiced in the army, but never seriously valued. Even if someone questioned him, he could claim memory loss due to his illness—a problem even Empress Wu herself couldn’t solve.

He answered perfunctorily, while his mind wandered. Liu Rengui's idea was excellent—a clever way to ease tensions with his parents. But the little girl was strongly opposed to him and mischievous, hard to win over.

“Congratulations, big brother,” Li Xian said.

Whether it was effective or not was plain to see: Li Wei’s cheeks now had a slight flush, though still pale. More importantly, he hadn’t coughed once during the conversation. In truth, who can endure constant coughing and expect others not to be repulsed?

So neither Yang Min nor his brothers had ever earned much resentment from Li Wei. Now that the cough was gone, Li Xulun was less fearful and piped up, “Brother, can you tell us another joke?”

Li Wei had a sudden inspiration. “Recently, I went out of the palace to observe the people and heard an interesting story. Let me share it with you.”

“Yes, yes!” Li Xulun clapped his small hands.

The little girl’s eyes were still full of disdain, but now tinged with anticipation.

Li Wei began to narrate the Tale of the Heroic Children, heavily revised, with the spotlight on the Thirteenth Sister. He couldn’t tell it exactly as written, but he emphasized her character.

Tang Dynasty arts and culture were vibrant, though far from later times. Novels existed, like the Records of the World and the Search for the Supernatural, and later, the Song-era Extensive Records of the Taiping Era, which included many Tang stories. But most were short and focused on the supernatural and karmic retribution.

Truthfully, the Tale of the Heroic Children was rather vulgar, written by a fallen scholar, far inferior to the Dream of the Red Chamber. But he chose this lengthy tale because the little girl’s mind was relatively simple—her “correct worldview” needed nurturing from an early age.

How would Tang people react to such a story?

Li Xian’s stunned expression said it all; he forgot his princely status. Li Xian’s eyes danced with excitement. Li Dan drooled. Princess Taiping’s mischievous eyes blinked incessantly.

Even eunuchs and palace maids gathered round, listening wide-eyed.

Li Wei narrated, observing their reactions, especially Princess Taiping’s. Not bad—she understood, resting her chin in her palm, mouth agape, breath whistling out.

Unnoticed, dusk arrived; Li Wei promised to tell more after his studies tomorrow, yet they wouldn’t leave until he shooed them away.

Bie’er brought a bowl of bird’s nest soup with rock sugar and asked, “Your Highness, where did you hear that story? I’ve never heard it.”

“If I said I heard it in the market, could I really sit there for hours listening? Wouldn’t the censors drown me in spit?”

“So you made it up,” Bie’er giggled behind her hand.

“Go rest,” Li Wei rolled his eyes.

“Yes,” Bie’er continued laughing. Since the crown prince’s recovery, he was transformed. It was a good sign—the former prince was too rigid; now his mind was lively, and liveliness promised more than rigidity. Besides, he treated her better now.

Yet Bie’er worried: would he remain so after his illness was cured? She felt so blessed these days, as if floating on clouds—almost afraid to lose it.

She scooped up a spoonful of soup.

Li Zhi lived frugally, not lavishly, but as royalty, even frugality meant good food, drink, and clothing. The bird’s nest was fine, but the rock sugar was coarse.

Rock sugar—Li Wei’s eyes lit up. He thought of another treat to entice Li Lingyue.

He called out to Jiang Luo and Dujuan, who stood at a distance, “Jiang Luo, Dujuan, come here.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the two maids ran over.

“Prepare a few things for me: see if the kitchen has animal skins, bones—preferably cartilage—and tendons, beef or deer, thoroughly cleaned. Also bring some milk, rock sugar, a few stoves, and some pots.”

“Your Highness, what are you making?” Bie’er asked in surprise.

“Something new.”

“What?”

“You’ll see soon, though it may not work.”

Soon, several eunuchs brought everything. Li Wei sent them away and told Jiang Luo, “Close the doors.”

Jiang Luo, though curious, knew this was a chance to be close to the prince and obeyed.

Li Wei had no choice—artisans were lowly in this era. If Li Zhi and Empress Wu learned he was “neglecting duties” to make milk candy, they’d have him hauled off to Luoyang.

He looked at Jiang Luo and Dujuan, sternly. “Today’s events must remain secret. If a word gets out, I’ll have you beaten to death.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the maids were delighted, feeling it brought them closer to the prince’s inner circle.

Still, Li Wei never handled anything himself. He was frustrated—this crown prince held an impressive title, but was like a powder keg, ready to explode, and constantly restricted, with little real power. How did he end up inhabiting this prince’s body!

He ordered Jiang Luo to toss several beef bones, a small piece of pork skin, and some beef tendons into an iron pot, add water, and simmer slowly.

He said, “You two take turns on watch. When it’s melted down, you can stop.”

With a simple iron pot, it wouldn’t melt by morning, but this was the key step: extracting gelatin. It had to be watched, with fire and water added as needed.

Once instructed, Li Wei went off to read.

Next morning, after his run, Dujuan came to him. “Your Highness, come see if it’s ready.”

Li Wei lifted the lid. Some bones, skin, and tendons had turned mushy, though most weren’t melted. No matter; he only needed some gelatin. Unsure if it would work, he said, “Strain it with a clean sieve and keep the mush.”

Dujuan did as told.

Li Wei had them simmer the milk until thick, then, in another pot, melt rock sugar until fragrant, skim the syrup, estimate the proportions, add the thickened milk and gelatin, and stir with a wooden stick until cooled.

One ingredient was missing—sugar base. But lacking tools and time, he couldn’t prepare it.

The aroma filled the air—even Bie’er couldn’t resist, joining in.

Once cooled and cut into pieces, Li Wei tasted it—it was far from milk candy of later times. There was already a treat in this era: stone honey, made in Yizhou and Jiangzuo from milk, rice flour, and cane juice. Li Wei had tried a piece—palace folk said it was delicious, but it was rock-hard, and he couldn’t see what was so great about it.

But at least this tasted better than stone honey.

If sugar were refined further and crystal sugar produced, and the process improved, it might not match future milk candy, but would be the best treat in Tang. That would require plenty of manpower and materials—the Eastern Palace had no shortage, but Li Wei dared not be so bold. Unless he secretly set up a workshop outside the palace to produce it quietly.

This thought flashed across his mind like lightning. Wasn’t he lamenting his lack of funds? Even after tidying up the inner palace, he couldn’t spend freely. Wasn’t this an opportunity…?

But how to proceed?

He really needed to venture outside the palace.

He reminded the maids again to keep it secret, then went to the Scholarly Pavilion for his studies.

That afternoon, upon his return, four people sat waiting for him anxiously.

Li Wei touched his nose, thinking, It worked.

He sat, had a eunuch brew tea, then said, “Dujuan, Jiang Luo, bring up some milk candy.”

He handed out two pieces each—snow-white milk candy, never seen before. Li Xian asked doubtfully, “Brother, what is this?”

“This is a new treat Bie’er invented for me. I’ve named it milk candy, try it,” Li Wei credited Bie’er, though the maids had made it, the idea was his.

Bie’er blushed with embarrassment.

They tasted it cautiously. Li Xian, impatient, exclaimed, “Brother, it’s delicious!”

“If you like it, have more. There’s plenty in the room,” Li Wei said, then suddenly remembered something, “Jiang Luo, wrap up all the milk candy in the room.”

He got up, wrote a letter to Li Zhi and Empress Wu, saying his maid Bie’er had made a new candy, and sent some for them to try. It might not matter, but if he didn’t send it and they found out, they’d accuse him of false filial piety.

Li Lingyue, having enjoyed the candy, saw it all wrapped up and protested, “Brother, no! Leave some for me.”

She ran over and grabbed as many as her small hands could hold.

Li Xulun, less bold, could only watch. Li Wei went over and set aside a few for him, then sent the rest to Luoyang.

So Li Lingyue, munching on milk candy, grinned ear to ear as she listened to stories, her teeth whistling.

As she left, she called out, “Brother, make more tonight—I want some tomorrow!”

Next morning, while Li Wei was out running, Li Lingyue blocked his path with two maids, stretched out her hands, and demanded, “Candy!”