Chapter Fifty-One: When the Scholar Huan Strikes—A Brilliant Scheme, a Crushing Blow (Part One)

“Your Highness, by chance I heard in the market that you sent milk candies to Luoyang.”

“That’s right,” Li Wei replied. Not only were the milk candies sent, but they were dispatched by urgent courier over eight hundred miles; one of the scholars from the Imperial Academy even submitted a remonstrance about it. Many people knew of this.

“A most ingenious gesture.”

“Indeed,” Li Wei said. Frankly, sending milk candies by such urgent means was hardly proper business, yet the outcome seemed favorable. Li Wei vaguely sensed that securing two opportunities for the grand sacrificial rites was closely tied to this act of sending milk candies.

“This is truly heartfelt, not the least bit affected. After all, Your Highness is the Crown Prince.” Di Renjie added another inscrutable remark. But Li Wei understood—the fact remained that he was the son of the Emperor and Empress. Of course, one could not simply say that a tiger would not eat its own cubs—Emperor Wu of Han was no fool; his son was so benevolent, yet in the end, he was eliminated by his own father. So Di Renjie continued, “Yet one cannot do nothing. Toward others, Your Highness may act as you wish, but toward His Majesty and the Empress, you must fulfill your filial duty as their son.”

He paused here, then said, “Follow the example of Xuan, not Jian.”

At first, Li Wei didn’t recall, but thankfully he had read much poetry and literature, and immediately understood that Di Renjie was referring to those two—Cao Pi and Cao Zhi. Before Cao Cao’s departure, Cao Zhi composed poems and essays, while Cao Pi simply clung to his father’s sleeve and wept.

But that didn’t mean he was helpless; he cultivated relationships with ministers like Sima Yi and Wu Zhi. The reason he triumphed over Cao Zhi was largely thanks to these ministers. Yet the foremost rule—even when contending with a brother, one must never act against Cao Cao himself.

Li Zhi was much the same; he appeared inactive, but in fact was quite involved. This didn’t mean he shut himself away in the palace and did nothing—he too had Changsun Wuji’s counsel, and after inheriting the position of Crown Prince, he sought to consolidate it, bringing forth omens and auspicious signs to please his father, Emperor Taizong.

Di Renjie was cautious, leaving his words half-said.

He was telling Li Wei that there was no need to worry so much. As long as he fulfilled his filial duty, genuinely and naturally, without excessive affectation, and didn’t show too much eagerness for the throne, all would be well. Even small mistakes did not matter. Was abolishing or appointing a Crown Prince so easy? It was harder than deposing an Empress. Not only could one make minor errors, but even cultivating a few close advisors was not a problem—such as Di Renjie or Wei Yuanzhong. Yet one should not get too close to Dai Zhizhi or Liu Rengui, or to all of them at once, lest the parents develop negative impressions. But associating with some talented, lower-ranked individuals and avoiding pressuring one’s parents might leave them with a favorable impression. A ruler must always have means to manage his subordinates. These people not only offer counsel, but also guard against the likes of Yang Xiu and Jiang Chong.

As for political machinations, Li Wei truly lacked skill.

Yet he was not foolish; though history’s pathways were few, they could at least point him in some direction. With just a few words, Di Renjie made Li Wei understand much.

For instance, the first edict from Wu Zetian was displeased—that was already a warning. But then, after he admitted his fault, some forgiveness was granted, hence the second edict. Of course, saying “those who are not of our clan must have different hearts” might not be opposed by his father, but saying it before the ministers was improper. As for the reproach for going to Luoyang, it might have been with mixed feelings—both joy and displeasure, mostly because Liu Rengui had praised him too highly. But perhaps his father wasn’t truly angry, otherwise Jiang Ke wouldn’t have been demoted.

Sending the milk candies reminded his parents of their son’s goodness, so after some discussion, they granted him the opportunity for the grand sacrificial rites.

With Di Renjie’s reminder, all these truths became clear at once.

Di Renjie, seeing Li Wei’s expression, smiled with satisfaction.

When he came, he feared the Crown Prince would read himself into stubbornness, clinging to rituals, and that even divine skills would be powerless to help. But upon meeting him, not only was this not the case, but Li Wei was so respectful it bordered on embarrassment.

Sipping old tree tea, rich and fragrant, brought from Xiazhou as tribute, his mood was excellent, and he couldn’t help but daydream. He was just past forty, so he could afford to wait. The Crown Prince valued him, and rumor had it that the prince had even run away for half a day, carrying the daughter of Secretary Xu on his back for part of the journey. Clearly, the Crown Prince’s health was improving.

In the future, might he rise to be a minister? Even a secretary would be good, allowing him to realize his ambitions. As for the position of prime minister, he was tempted to covet it, but his courage was a bit lacking, so he quickly let the thought pass.

These two—one old, one young—were well matched. Li Wei felt the same; the emperor coveted the highest position, but so long as he was safe, being Crown Prince was not bad at all.

Li Wei thought for a moment, sorting through many things. Of course, he remained wary of his mother. Yet Di Renjie’s words reminded him—regardless, he was always her son. As long as he was truly filial, would she really kill him just to become Empress herself?

His heart was much lighter, yet he hesitated again, saying, “But, Master Di, you…”

You are the legal officer of Bingzhou; tomorrow a batch of official documents awaits you, and you must return to Taiyuan at once. How can you help me?

Di Renjie said, “Actually, Your Highness need not worry; the world is vast and full of talented people. Previously, because of your illness, you stayed long in the Eastern Palace, and people only knew your name, not your bearing. Yet you will one day stand atop the heights. Your ritual plowing had more drawbacks than benefits, but it moved the hearts of the heroes of the land…”

Another subtle speech—not that there are no talents willing to assist you, but before, you were like a fool stuck in the Eastern Palace. Who would come to help? Either the bigwigs of court, nominally attached to the Crown Prince, but these old foxes—would they dare to associate closely with you? Besides, at their stage, even if they helped you succeed, what more could they gain? If they failed, cases like Hou Junji occurred just decades earlier. Even if successful, what happened to Changsun Wuji? Not worth it.

Li Wei rubbed his nose, as if that was unrelated—it was the previous Crown Prince’s issue. But he didn’t dare say so.

Still, these poems, though not without flaws, had their merits. They moved the hearts of some lovely young ladies—at least his fiancée Yang Min had begun to like him from deep within. And he had reeled in Di Renjie, truly a divine steed, not just any horse! Moreover, in the borderlands, he had also gained Liu Rengui’s favor. Thinking of it this way, it was really not bad at all.

He understood—the Crown Prince was indeed not bad.

The two found themselves very much in accord.

“Moreover, Scholar Wei is astonishingly talented, Your Highness—do not underestimate him. He’s right here in the capital, and you can consult him.”

“I shall remember,” Li Wei replied. Though he knew little of Wei Yuanzhong’s deeds, this man had served as prime minister for quite a while, and had a good reputation—not to be underestimated. Yet he seemed a bit inferior to Di Renjie. How could he devise a way to bring Di Renjie to the capital?

Ah, had he known he would transmigrate, why didn’t he read more of New Tang Book, Old Tang Book, or even Comprehensive Mirror to Aid in Government? Better yet, bring Baidu along—he’d know much more, without the headache of classical Chinese.

After speaking, Li Wei turned to Wei Yuanzhong and said, “Scholar Wei, I am still young and unfamiliar with worldly ways; I must trouble you in the future.”

“Never would I dare, never would I dare,” Wei Yuanzhong replied, visibly moved. Though proud of his talents, nearly forty and still a mere scholar, he felt some discontent in his heart. Who would have thought he’d gain such favor from the Crown Prince?

Di Renjie added, “And this Yao Yuanchong, though young, possesses wisdom and learning of the highest order. Ximen is equally talented.”

The two stood up, embarrassed. “Master Di, you flatter us.”

“Not flattery—I have some skill in judging men, though now you have a defect: you are both too young, lacking experience.”

“That’s true.”

“But all you lack is tempering. Yet, Your Highness, they can make up for gaps and deficiencies at your side.”

Even if young, it was like having Du in front, and Yao and Song behind. But Li Wei hesitated, saying, “This…”

Di Renjie laughed and said, “I do not mean for them to serve as attendants at your side, but rather you may appoint them as interlocutors in the Imperial Academy.”

If they were made tutors, they’d lack the credentials, but as interlocutors, that was acceptable. Besides, he trusted Yao Yuanchong’s learning. So it was about being by his side—not some eunuch business.

Li Wei laughed awkwardly. Arranging interlocutors was not too difficult, so he said, “Yao, Ximen, leave your addresses; I shall make arrangements soon.”

The two knelt on one knee in thanks. To serve the Crown Prince, even without an official post, was an opportunity to build rapport; once he ascended, they’d prosper.

“Rise,” Li Wei said, not daring to act superior. The arrival of these four was timely—a guiding light. He helped them up.

They sat and conversed happily.

Suddenly, Di Renjie frowned and asked, “Your Highness, were you frightened yesterday?”

“It was more than fright—truly, I was lucky.”

“Then did your health suffer?”

“Still all right,” Li Wei replied, thinking it was just a routine inquiry.

But Di Renjie’s frown deepened, then gradually eased, and he said, “Your Highness, this is not right. You should have been severely frightened yesterday, to the point of illness.”

“Nonsense! His Highness is perfectly healthy!” Bi’er snapped. Good times or bad, even yesterday’s escape was the happiest time of her life. Seeing the Crown Prince’s health improve made her ever more joyful.

It was no easy feat.

Though she sensed this petty legal officer had come to serve the Crown Prince, to offer his help, he shouldn’t curse the prince.

“Bi’er, mind your manners,” Li Wei scolded.

Di Renjie had heard of this loyal palace maid, and took no offense, smiling, “This young lady has excellent character; Your Highness must not neglect her.”

This made Bi’er half laugh, half angry. She couldn’t tell if he was praising or scolding.

“Indeed. But Master Di, what do you mean by this?”

“Your Highness, you have always had a stubborn illness, and after the upheaval on Mount Zhongnan, it would be reasonable to have been frightened into a serious relapse,” Di Renjie replied, meaningfully. “Not only frightened, but gravely ill…”

“You!” Bi’er rose angrily.

PS: To keep things light and add some humor, a few comic touches were included. Some readers felt this was inappropriate—perhaps it was wrong. Please offer your corrections.