Chapter Five: The World’s Indifference, Beauty Like a Flower (Part One)

No wonder those people kept their distance from him. Since falling ill, not even the three younger brothers and one sister, mentioned only in legends, had come to visit. He used to think it was just Li Hong’s aloofness.

Tuberculosis—who in this era would willingly come near?

The rain began to fall harder, mist rising in veils, and the scenery of the Eastern Palace grew ever more indistinct in the swirling fog. The wind too picked up, and even with Li Wei’s usually unhurried temperament, a chill he could not explain sent a shiver through him.

“Your Highness, truly, it isn’t so terrible. There are so many skilled physicians in the palace—they’re sure to cure you. Look, after all these years, Your Highness is still here, safe and sound,” Bie’er said anxiously, clutching Li Wei’s hand.

“I am not worried,” Li Wei replied. “When the carriage reaches the mountain, there will be a road.”

He had survived even the absurdity of transmigrating; what was a little tuberculosis compared to that? Yet, to have ended up in Li Hong’s body—the same Li Hong who had once offended Empress Wu and now, after being scolded by a trusted eunuch sent by her, was told he had brought tuberculosis into the palace—Li Wei’s mood was as oppressive as the heavy clouds overhead.

His voice, emerging from his throat, felt thick and sticky, as though smeared with glue.

The little girl, not knowing what to do, came to his side and said, “Your Highness, shall I sing you a song?”

She began to sing sweetly:

“Green fields halt the soldiers’ chariots,
At Lulong the banners shift course.
Distant mountains bright as brocade,
Endless rivers winding like sashes.
Sea air towers a hundredfold,
Pine cliffs shade a thousand lengths.
Here, one may wander and delight,
Why seek pleasure outside Xiang City?”

Songs then were simple—often poems set to melodies, repeated with variations, a twenty-character quatrain could be sung for ages. Some poems were exceptions, such as Li Shimin’s “Holding the Scepter, Calming the Frontiers,” which stretched to two hundred characters.

Folk songs—short, unrefined, often about ghosts and demons or the passions of men and women—abounded, filled with coarse and bawdy lines, rarely deemed worthy of refined society.

Perhaps not enough to echo in the rafters, but with her clear, crisp voice and the resonant tones of the zither, it was as charming and fresh as a fledgling oriole’s first song.

The rain fell ever heavier, drumming on the eaves like tens of thousands frying beans atop the roof. The world outside became a blur of white, while the great hall itself grew darker.

A eunuch entered to light the giant candles, but at the first sound of Li Wei’s cough, he fled as though struck by plague.

The eunuch’s fear, Bie’er’s efforts to please him by singing, her personal care over these days—Li Wei, for reasons he could not name, felt his mind emptied of all but one emotion: gratitude.

…………………………

This rain was enough to make one long for the end of autumn.

The heavier it fell, the more people thronged the streets, dancing with joy.

The people were overjoyed; this rain meant relief from drought. The officials too were pleased; with rain, the court would face less pressure.

Yongjia Lane, near the Tonghua Gate, was connected to the Grand Avenue of the Taiji Palace by a cross street, equally close to the Daming Palace. Every inch of land here was precious, most of the residences belonging to the nobility and high officials. In the southwest corner stood a mansion with towering towers and pavilions—the residence of the retired Grand Mentor to the Crown Prince, Xu Jingzong.

Yet even this mansion could not compare to his property in the Xiuye Quarter of Luoyang.

But age had made even writing an effort, and he was too weary to move. Even though Li Zhi and Empress Wu had gone to Luoyang in the first month, Xu Jingzong still remained in Chang’an.

He watched the rain stream from the eaves—first like broken grains of rice, then like strings of pearls, finally thick white lines—before turning to the young man beside him. “Yanbo, how was your lesson at the Hongwen Academy today?”

“What learning do those scholars have?” the boy replied with disdain.

“Yanbo, that is not the right attitude,” Xu Jingzong said patiently, unruffled.

As one of the chief ministers, Xu Jingzong was favored by both Li Zhi and Empress Wu. In the entire court, only he and Li Ji were permitted to enter the palace for deliberations by carriage. Even though he had retired due to age, he was still often summoned by the emperor and empress to advise on state affairs. His standing and character still inspired awe.

“Why not?”

Xu Jingzong was strict with others and with his own family—he once exiled his own son to the south over a concubine. Yet he doted on this grandson, once telling his son Xu Ang, “My child is not as fine as yours.”

Xu Ang, exasperated, had replied, “True, his father is not as fine as mine.”

Yet this Xu Yanbo was genuinely talented, writing essays on his grandfather’s behalf before he was even fifteen.

Xu Jingzong explained, “Despite your talent and gifts, are you more gifted than Cao Zhi? I am growing old—how many more years can I help you? The Hongwen Academy is not what it was in the early days of the dynasty, but all the students there are sons of nobles and officials. To rise, you need someone above to promote you and supporters below to raise you up. That is the true art. Those fellow students of yours may one day be your allies. Why else would I have pleaded with Their Majesties to let you study at the Academy? Could I not teach you myself?”

This was no boast; few scholars at the Academy could match him. He had participated in the compilation of the Five Dynasties History, the Book of Jin, the New Book of the Eastern Palace, the Illustrated Records of the Western Regions, the Compendium of Literary Thought, the Forest of Eloquence, Pearls Collected, The Radiance of Jade Mountains, The Register of Surnames, and the New Rituals—many of them under his direct supervision.

“I was wrong,” Xu Yanbo quickly admitted.

“To recognize error and amend it is the mark of a gentleman. Soon you will come of age and receive an official post. There is little time—seize this opportunity.”

“Yes.”

Xu Jingzong then remembered something. “One more thing: do not become too close to the Crown Prince.”

“Why?” As Li Hong’s tutor, Xu Jingzong’s grandson had some connection with the prince, but nothing deep.

“He is too reckless; I doubt he will hold the position long.” Xu Jingzong recounted how Li Hong had pleaded for his two sisters and incurred Empress Wu’s wrath, leading her to send a eunuch to reprimand him in the Eastern Palace. Few knew of this.

“Grandfather, do you mean…”

…………………………

On the table were dishes of sautéed spinach, steamed lamb liver, and a pot of lamb ribs. In a small stove, meat pies stuffed with lamb were kept warm.

Madam Yang and her children sat waiting for the return of Yang Sijian, Deputy Minister of the Imperial Guards.

Madam Yang had been a renowned beauty in Chang’an, and her son, Yang Chengyou, was tall and handsome, her daughter, Yang Min, even more striking in appearance.

“Father, when will you be home? I’m starving,” Yang Min pouted, kicking her long legs.

“It’s raining so hard, he must be delayed. Let’s wait a bit longer.”

Just then, the old servant announced, “Master has returned.”

Madam Yang rose to greet him, wiping the rain from his hair with a towel, her heart full of concern.

“Father, if you don’t come back soon, I’m going to protest!” Yang Min cried, flinging herself into Yang Sijian’s arms.

But this time, Yang Sijian’s face was grim. “Sit down,” he said. “I have something to ask you.” He removed his drenched official robes, changed into casual attire, and poured himself a cup of grape wine from a foreign jade goblet.

“Leave us,” he ordered, and the servants withdrew.

“Father, why are you angry? I always do as you say.”

“Min’er, let me ask you: The Crown Prince was gravely ill a few days ago, unconscious for a full day and night. Have you visited him?”

“Why should I visit that sickly wretch?”

Slap!

The sound rang out clear and sharp—Yang Sijian had struck her across the face.

“Father, why did you hit me? It’s you who wish to climb high, not caring about your daughter’s feelings, sacrificing me for your ambitions!” Yang Min burst into tears. Never before had her parents, who cherished her like a jewel, ever raised a hand to her.

“Why did you strike our daughter?” Madam Yang protested. “I never wanted this match, but dared not refuse for fear of imperial power. She is to be married in a few months—let her live happily a little longer.”

“Foolish woman! Tell me, are we still the family we were under King Guande?”

The Yangs were a distinguished clan, ennobled since the Wei state, royal kin of the Sui dynasty, and at their height, Yang Xiong was one of the Four Nobles of Sui, alongside Gao Jiong, Yu Qingze, and Su Wei. His eldest son, Yang Gongren, aided the Tang and became Duke of Guan, serving as chancellor under both Emperor Taizong and Emperor Gaozu. The second son, Yang Chen, after Yang Xuangan’s rebellion, met his brother while fleeing, fell into despair, and died. Yang Chen’s three sons—Yang Sijian, Yang Siyue, and Yang Silai—all served in the Tang administration.

But the choice of a Yang daughter as Crown Princess had another reason.

Yang Xiong’s brother, the famous Sui minister Yang Da, saw the family’s fortunes decline after the dynasty’s fall. One daughter married Wu Shihuo as his second wife—this Lady Yang became Lady of Rongguo.

Otherwise, with the Yangs’ current standing, no matter how lovely or virtuous Yang Min might be, she would never have been chosen as the Crown Princess. Consider the wives of the Li family: Li Bing’s wife was daughter to the illustrious Dugu clan, Li Yuan’s wife was the niece of Emperor Wu of Zhou, Li Shimin’s wife, Empress Zhangsun, was of Northern Wei imperial descent, and Li Zhi’s empress was from the Wang family, one of the great “Seven Surnames, Ten Houses.”

Though the Yangs might still have a trace of ancestral glory, in comparison they fell far short.

Madam Yang shook her head.

“And are we close to the Empress?”

Again, Madam Yang shook her head. Too many generations separated them, and the Yangs now boasted many branches—not just Yang Sijian alone.

Yang Sijian continued, “Min’er was chosen as Crown Princess partly for family ties, partly for her beauty, which pleased the Empress. But is beauty or virtue more important for a Crown Princess?”

“They look down on us—we needn’t accept this match,” Madam Yang said indignantly.

Yang Min was their late-born, beloved daughter. The Crown Prince’s frail health made even the prospect of his survival uncertain.

“What nonsense! If the imperial family truly called off this marriage, our branch of the Yangs would be finished. We’d never rise again.” He paused, controlling his temper. “I know you do not favor the Prince, but today I heard something…”

PS: Some say Empress Wu’s mother was not Yang Da’s daughter. In fact, the Yangs had many fallen branches by the end of the Sui. If not for this, a Yang daughter could never have become Crown Princess. When Helan Minzhi’s case erupted, though Yang Sijian’s line declined, they were not exterminated—a testament to their ties. The Yangs were a noble house, but not the most illustrious; Wu Shihuo had no urgent need to marry into them. Just my opinion.