Chapter Seventy-Eight: Refusing the Regency, Eating Tofu

When Li Wei entered, the three men had already received Li Zhi’s order: they were not to utter a word. They couldn’t, like Li Wei or Wu Zetian, exchange meaningful glances—nor would such signals necessarily be understood. And even if they could, several close eunuchs stood nearby; who dared risk so much as a furtive gesture?

Yao Yuanchong seethed with discontent. So, we offered some advice—what of it? Hadn’t you trodden this very path yourself, perhaps even outdoing us, conjuring up auspicious omens and the like? Wei Yuanzhong, however, saw deeper currents. It wasn’t merely about offering advice; the real issue was that his own son had grown up and gained renown, which vexed Li Zhi. The Helan Minzhi affair was only a small piece of this. Perhaps, to restore balance, more power would be given to the Empress, and as her influence grew, power would swing back toward the Crown Prince. Such see-sawing, back and forth, was far from ideal.

As the three men brooded, Li Wei’s mind raced. There was no rush; as long as they saw him as their son, he could take things slowly. He recalled Di Renjie’s earlier words, weighing them against the recent conversations with Li Zhi and Wu Zetian. In his calculations, to offend his mother would be disastrous. Even attempting to help his father divide her influence would not do. The reality was clear: his father’s power was immense—a Sun Wukong of sorts—but his mother’s gentle entanglements were like the Buddha’s five fingers, holding his father in an unbreakable grip.

Yet to offend his father was equally perilous. Never mind Li Zhi’s famed benevolence—think of Li Chengqian, Yang Yong, Li Jiancheng, his own grandfather and great-grandfather, or even Yang Jian. None had lesser mettle than his father.

There was, however, one bottom line: his father was likely most attached to the throne itself. This was why he had reassigned those officers in the Imperial Guards who had grown close to Li Wei, promoting them away. As long as Li Wei did not threaten his father's claim to the throne, he could expect a measure of tolerance. His mother, though, was more complex; he could not fathom her limits.

With these reflections, he made up his mind.

He rose and spoke with composure, “Father, Mother, from childhood I have been frail and sickly, always a cause for your concern. After you both left the Western Capital, I left the palace for a while, was caught in a rainstorm, and fell gravely ill. I barely survived this brush with death, but my mind was clouded by fever, and I forgot much. Yet I remembered, above all, the anxious faces of my parents when I was gravely ill as a child. Later, with Biyer’s reminders, I recalled many things, and deeply regretted my past conduct.”

He stole a glance at Wu Zetian, noticing how intently she listened—clearly, his words were having the desired effect. He pressed on: “So I reflected, sought out methods to strengthen my body from books and some of the guards. I even took it upon myself to change my name to Li Wei. I beg your pardon, Father.”

Li Zhi was incensed—how dare his son change the name he had given him, and then ask forgiveness?

Li Wei, unruffled, continued, “This is to show my resolve to reform and become the kind of child who will no longer trouble his parents. The name ‘Wei’ is my wish for better health.”

He hadn’t gained even a fraction of Li Hong’s stature—why keep the name?

“But I have not done well; trouble has come one after another. When I entered the hall just now, my heart was both startled and gladdened. Glad, because Mother, you grow ever more youthful, like my elder sister.”

“Hong’er, you rascal!” Wu Zetian scolded playfully.

“It’s true, Mother, I do not exaggerate; look, your skin is even fairer than mine,” he said, taking Wu Zetian’s hand and gently stroking it. The gesture was not overbold, after all, he was her son—far less intimate than Li Lingyue’s coquettish displays in Wu Zetian’s arms. Besides, the Tang dynasty was far more open-minded, with fewer taboos.

Though Wu Zetian was of considerable age, she was well preserved; her hands, snowy white and delicate, felt wonderful to the touch. Li Wei could not help but wonder—was this not a bit too forward? No, he reassured himself, I am her son.

“Enough of that!” Wu Zetian tapped him lightly on the head, her smile deepening instead of fading. What woman does not relish being called beautiful? Such tactics worked wonders on women.

Meanwhile, Li Wei’s mind was calculating—he knew not how he would get along with this mother in days to come, but today she was surely on his side. Otherwise, she would not have been so insistent with her meaningful glances. The present alignment was himself, his younger sister, and his mother, against his father—a favorable position.

The clearer his thoughts grew, the more composed he became. He continued: “Yet when I look at Father, I am filled with anxiety. I have failed in my duty as a son, disappointing you and feeling deeply ashamed. Father, please do not have me act as regent any longer; my ineptitude only causes you distress. If you truly cannot forgive me, then I ask that you strip me of my title as Crown Prince—and also my second, third, and fourth brothers.”

In such circumstances, there was no point in arguing. In all the Tang realm, with millions of subjects, whatever the emperor and empress declared to be true, was true. Debate was futile.

“You think I dare not depose you as Crown Prince?”

“I beg you to issue the decree,” Li Wei replied calmly. If he must tread on such thin ice, he would rather not be Crown Prince at all—better to be a peaceful prince instead.

Wei Yuanzhong opened his eyes, looked at Li Wei, and gave him a double thumbs-up—two pillars holding up the sky.

In truth, he did not realize this was Li Wei’s genuine wish, so there was not the least crack in Li Wei’s façade.

Li Zhi grew angrier. He had planned to expose the three advisers and frighten his son, hoping to stop any more schemes behind his back. But his son neither argued nor resisted, only spoke of filial piety and asked for punishment. How could he deal with that?

It felt like striking cotton with a fist.

He turned to Wei Yuanzhong, whose eyesight was poor but could still make out the thumbs-up, and said, “Wei Yuanzhong, this tactic of retreating to advance—is it your doing?”

Wei Yuanzhong stepped forward, bowing low. “It is indeed.”

“Oh?” Li Zhi’s eyes widened. Today was full of surprises: his son, soft as silk, was untouchable; this scholar, meanwhile, admitted everything at once. He paused and asked, “Why?”

“Your Majesty, though I am but a petty official, I have heard of your vast learning. Since ancient times, whenever the position of Crown Prince was insecure, or the heir was young, disaster has often followed—even dynastic upheaval. Now, under your enlightened rule, the Crown Prince has grown and, after a serious illness, emerged healthier. This is the fortune of the Tang. Yet Helan Minzhi dared abduct the future Crown Princess, attempted murder on Zhongnanshan, and insulted the little princess. I know your Majesty’s kindness to the Empress’s clan, but Helan Minzhi is a subject, the Crown Prince is the heir—any one of these crimes would be a capital offense for any minister. If all officials followed Helan Minzhi’s example, what would become of the state? And yet, Your Majesty delayed dealing with this matter. Had it been handled sooner, would the princess’s incident have occurred? Furthermore, all I hear is Your Majesty’s rebuke of the Crown Prince. After so much bullying by a subject, Your Majesty still blames the heir. I cannot fathom your reasoning, but I feel the Crown Prince is in danger. If peace is what he desires, then perhaps he should not be Crown Prince at all.”

Li Wei’s jaw nearly dropped—old Wei, you’re incredible! To dare say such things!

Wei Yuanzhong was indeed formidable; history attests he was nearly executed by Wu Zetian for his candor more than once.

“You—you—guards, throw this man out!” Li Zhi was beside himself.

Two eunuchs came and escorted Wei Yuanzhong away.

Li Zhi turned to Yao Yuanchong and Ximen Chong. “Why are you two still here? Out!”

For the first time, he used the imperial pronoun “Zhen.”

The two, unnerved by Wei Yuanzhong’s outburst, quickly followed him out.

When they had gone, Li Zhi suddenly laughed and said to Wu Zetian, “That Wei Yuanzhong—he truly is bold.”

Wu Zetian smiled as well. “Hong’er has made many mistakes this time, but the advisers he’s chosen are a fine selection.”

Li Wei was flabbergasted—what kind of act were these two putting on?

His mind was spinning—utterly inadequate for the situation!

Li Zhi finished speaking and instructed the eunuchs, “See that these three are well taken care of. I intend to employ them in important posts. It’s just that the two young ones are a bit too youthful.”

“At once!” The eunuchs hurried after them.

“Hong’er, come here,” Wu Zetian beckoned.

Li Wei obediently approached. Wu Zetian asked, “Did you learn anything just now?”

“I am dull-witted, I have not.”

“The art of ruling ministers—if you lack even this, how can you be a good ruler?” With that, she drew Li Wei into her embrace. Wu Zetian’s figure was ample and stately; as her soft arm rested on his shoulder, the sensation was overwhelmingly intimate. If this was ‘taking liberties,’ then he had truly crossed the line this time.

He still lacked a real sense of being her son—otherwise, such a gentle embrace would not have given rise to such improper thoughts.

Wu Zetian, however, thought nothing of it and continued, “It has been over two months since I last saw you. You look much better now, which puts your mother’s heart at ease. Ah, Heaven’s will. Let today’s matter end here; go home and rest early.”

In truth, Li Zhi’s anger had not abated, but he was not a foolish ruler. He could employ his ministers while still being angry at his son—these were separate matters. Yet Wu Zetian’s intervention muddied the waters, leaving him unable to vent his frustration.

“Your son obeys!” Li Wei replied immediately.

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“So His Majesty was only pretending to be angry?” Biyer asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Your Highness, if he were truly angry, he wouldn’t have rewarded my family,” said Biyer.

“I don’t know.” Treading upon the bluestone path, Li Wei’s mood was heavy—not for any other reason, but because of Wu Zetian’s final words. He had finally understood that the so-called arts of imperial rule were indeed real.