Chapter Eighty-Six: The Old Woman of the Fisherman’s Cottage – A Journey Toward Mount Song (Part Two)

Li Wei lowered his head and said, "Father, Mother, there is something that I have kept in my heart for a long time and wish to say now. Father, there is but one sun in the sky, which brings winter's cold to an end, summer's warmth to life, the four seasons into clear distinction, and all things to flourish. But if there were two suns? Man has but one head, so his limbs obey his commands and his actions remain in accord; but if he had two heads? Father, you are in the prime of your years, and once I was ignorant and did not understand the ways of the world, and so gained a little reputation. But if this continues for long, how will you, Father, bear it? I beg you to consider this well."

As an emperor, he was a good ruler—if nothing else, Wei Yuanzhong’s tenure proved it. Yet because of his health, he grew suspicious and fearful. When his illness worsened, what would become of the nation, of the dynasty? He immediately thought of raising his son, making him regent, letting him preside over sacrifices, or comfort the people—a wish to hand over command as soon as his son was ready. But once his health improved, seeing his son grown and more or less accomplished, who knew what feelings would arise? He would rather let the Empress govern than yield an ounce of power to his son.

And as for the Empress—perhaps she was a remarkable person, but hardly a kind one.

If one did not know, it was like being a frog slowly boiled in warm water, dying without realizing it. But once you knew, waiting for death was a torment.

Wang Caiyan had created a game of Three Kingdoms; with the guidance of Wei Yuanzhong and others, Li Wei gradually discerned his father's intentions and decided to speak plainly. If reason prevailed, all the better—he would remain Crown Prince, his father the Emperor, and he wished for nothing more. Let suspicion be set aside. If not, he would simply leave. To tell the truth, he felt little affection for Empress Wu or Emperor Li Zhi.

“Who taught you to say such things?” Li Zhi exclaimed in anger.

“Father, no one taught me. I have come to this conclusion myself. Living like this is difficult. Rather than continue so, why not strip me of the title of Crown Prince and let me simply be a royal son—loving my brothers and sisters, honoring you and Mother. I would be happier that way.”

“You unfilial child!” Li Zhi fumed, clutching his chest as he sat. “All my painstaking instruction since your youth wasted!”

Wu Zetian also shouted, “Hong’er, be silent at once!”

Li Wei then fell silent, but inside he felt a rare sense of clarity, as if a cool wind had suddenly swept away the stifling heat.

Wu Zetian turned to the attending eunuchs and maids, saying, “If any of you dare to repeat a single word of what the Crown Prince has said today, do not blame me for being merciless.”

This startled Li Wei—could it really be so serious? Well, so be it. His mild, shameless temperament rose to the surface. This festering sore had to be lanced sooner or later; better to squeeze it out at once than let it worsen.

Words could not always be spoken so bluntly. Helan Minzhi, for instance, showed displeasure at the mourning for Lady Wei. Sensing her doubt, Wu Zetian said to a confidant, “This child suspects me.” At that, a desire to kill arose, but she refrained out of respect for Lady Rongguo and because of the mourning period. If not for Li Wei’s various interventions, Helan Minzhi was doomed regardless—she might only have lived a little longer.

Wu Zetian said to Li Wei, “Have you lost your senses? The Emperor is the Lord of Men, the Crown Prince his heir. The sovereign governs, the heir learns. This is the foundation of the state. What do two suns in the sky or two masters among men have to do with it? And as for filial piety, yours is hardly the proper sort!”

Li Wei remained silent, feeling even more aggrieved. Was playing this game of hide-and-seek what they called filial devotion?

As the stalemate continued, a report came from outside: “The little princess requests an audience.”

“Let her in,” Wu Zetian ordered, and then said to Li Wei, “If you wish to visit Shaolin Temple, go and clear your mind. But remember—not another episode like your recent escapade in the Eastern Capital. And as for Xu Shaoshi’s grandson, Xu Sheren, a warning will suffice. Xu Shaoshi has served the country all his life; do not go too far.”

“I will remember, Mother. But if I may add one more thing—even though Xu Shaoshi has served faithfully, his grandson Xu Sheren is not of similar character and has many faults. If he remains with me, perhaps I can guide him towards virtue.”

“First cultivate your own virtue!” Li Zhi, having caught his breath, interjected sharply.

“Father, though I am unruly and often fail to appreciate your and Mother’s efforts, my conduct is not truly bad; at least I am half a good man.”

“Half a good man,” Wu Zetian laughed despite herself, gave him a kick, and said, “Get up.”

Li Wei rose at once. He cared little for others bowing to him, but he never felt comfortable kneeling himself.

After Li Lingyue finished her salute, she ran up cheerfully and said, “Big Brother, why didn’t you take me with you when you left the palace?”

Take you out? That was exactly why he was being scolded—Li Wei did not answer.

“I want to hear a story.”

Still, Li Wei did not reply.

“Father, Mother, are you scolding Big Brother again? He’s so good—the people praise him, the officials praise him. Why do you always scold him?”

No one answered. It was precisely because everyone praised the Crown Prince that there were so many troubles.

“After you eat tonight, you’ll stay in the Eastern Palace,” Wu Zetian said.

“Thank you, Mother.”

Li Wei was taken aback. Since coming to Luoyang, his parents had forbidden Li Lingyue from coming to the Eastern Palace for fear she’d “disturb” him; she’d only been allowed twice, and both times the eunuchs hurried her away. Why this sudden change?

Words from most people were uttered casually, often without care for the consequences, but from his mother’s lips, they always carried weight. In any case, it gave him a headache. The only benefit was that more interaction might sharpen his wit.

Wu Zetian took Li Zhi with her to the bedchamber. A family banquet was always more lavish than an ordinary meal, so the kitchen had to prepare accordingly.

Wu Zetian summoned the court musicians.

One of them asked quietly, “Your Majesty, what music would you like to hear?”

“Play the Crown Prince’s songs—the ones set to his verses.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the musician replied and directed the others to sing “Immortal at the Magpie Bridge.” When it ended, he came to ask, “Your Majesty, what next?”

“Can’t you sing the other two songs?”

“I have tried, Your Majesty. ‘At the Frontier in Autumn’ speaks of the border soldiers—desolate, yet stirring. The pipa, cymbals, jade chimes, and metalophones are too clamorous, while flute and zither are too soft. So I use large five-string, small xiao, with bi li, large and small xun, a touch of horn and war drum, and an elderly female singer for best effect. As for ‘The Great River Flows East,’ it’s not easy to perform—it requires a big drum and a deep male voice to capture its true spirit, which may not suit Your Majesty.”

Li Wei admired the musician’s concise words—here was a true professional.

“Oh? How interesting. Now you have piqued my curiosity. Let them perform ‘At the Frontier in Autumn’ for His Majesty and me,” Wu Zetian said.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The musicians, having rehearsed in advance, began with the plaintive sounds of the xun, followed by the bi li, a horn’s call, a drum’s beat, and the guqin’s notes. Even before the singing began, the mood was palpable.

Of course, these palace musicians were not to be compared with the singers Liu Rengui found in Longzhou. Soon a small xiao joined in, and a woman in her fifties stepped forward to sing. In truth, it was the most inhumane fate. Eunuchs, having been cut off from desire, were resigned to their lot, but these palace women and musicians, living out their lives in the palace, most never experiencing love, yet their bodies remained entirely normal.

Therefore, Li Wei chose not to comment on many sordid affairs among the palace women.

“That is exactly how it should be sung,” Wu Zetian said with her eyes closed, keeping time with her hand.

Li Zhi took the opportunity to whisper to Li Wei, “Truly, I dare not depose you.”

Li Wei shuddered at the quiet words. The last time Li Zhi had said something similar, it was mere bluster. This time, however, he felt real anger and even a note of murderous intent.

Wu Zetian opened her eyes and said, “I’ve lost interest. Enough, you may go.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the musicians withdrew, puzzled.

Wu Zetian turned to Li Wei. “Hong’er, not to scold you, but in the past, though you did many things without regard for your parents’ efforts, you still kept some dignity as Crown Prince. Now, not only have you disappointed your father, you have lost even that dignity.”

Li Wei no longer cared to argue. He had merely spoken the truth—was it so serious? Let them do as they liked.

At worst, he would play the wastrel for ten years or so. If even that was forbidden him, he would simply run away!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Yao Yuanchong and Ximen Chong had not left. After days of turmoil and a summons from the Emperor, there must have been some rumor. So they waited for Li Wei’s return.

Li Wei said to Li Lingyue, “Go play with Wan’er for a while.”

Li Lingyue refused to leave. Li Wei had no choice but to say, “Tonight I’ll tell you stories for a long time.”

“For an hour? No, two hours.”

He had no choice. With her standing nearby, he could not speak freely with Yao Yuanchong, so he agreed to this unfair bargain. Only then did Li Lingyue happily go off in search of Shangguan Wan’er, who, in truth, was not pleased to see her. As soon as Li Lingyue appeared, a dark cloud gathered on her face.

Li Wei had no energy to bother about it. He recounted the events to Yao Yuanchong, who said, “Your Highness, the Empress’s last words were a warning.”

Hearing this, Li Wei realized it was true—not only her last words, but allowing Li Lingyue to visit and holding the family banquet were all ways of helping him. So he asked, “Then was I wrong to speak the truth?”

“Your Highness, do you think that by speaking out, Their Majesties will believe you?”

“But haven’t we already begun to act…”

“That’s different. Actions are subtle ways of showing you are yielding. Words are open declarations—you are so dissatisfied that you say it directly. The Emperor is your father, the lord of all under heaven—do you have the right to be dissatisfied? How could he be pleased?”

“Yao Gong, I can endure no more.”

“You must endure it. What Crown Prince has not? Did the Emperor himself have it any easier in his youth? Truthfully, Your Highness, your kindness and talent are admirable, but you lack your father’s composure at your age.” With that, Yao Yuanchong took his leave. The situation had grown delicate—he needed to confer with Wei Yuanzhong. What a pity that Di Renjie had not yet returned; with him, they would have one more ally.

Still, it was not yet a full-blown crisis. The Emperor was ailing, his illness lingering, and the Crown Prince remained the best candidate to inherit the throne. Moreover, the Crown Prince’s reputation was excellent—it would be even harder to depose him than it had been to make Wu Zetian Empress.

But the omen was not good, not good at all.

Li Wei, for his part, was untroubled; he began to recite the map of Tang in his mind.

As night fell, Li Lingyue climbed onto Li Wei’s bed—never before had she slept with her brother. Just three months ago, she would have refused to dine with the Crown Prince, let alone sleep beside him. She waved her little hand and said, “Big Brother, it’s getting late.”

Those few words left Li Wei in a cold sweat.