Chapter Nine: Who Is She?

In the Yang residence, Yang Sijian was conversing with his daughter.

Yang Sijian dared not interfere, but Lady Yang was asking, “Min’er, that ruffian Liu Rengui said the Crown Prince is a fine person. Your elder brother returned and said the same. What is he really like?”

Yang Min lowered her head until it nearly disappeared into her collar, refusing to answer. Unbeknownst to her, a blush crept up her cheeks, but having such fair skin, Lady Yang failed to notice her embarrassment.

“You silly child, at least say something if he’s good or not.”

“Mother, could you not ask?” Yang Min replied in a voice as soft as a mosquito’s.

How could she not ask? The old man had fretted over this matter all night, unable to sleep. Lady Liu, furious, said, “This is about your lifelong happiness, and concerns the whole family. How can you treat your mother like this?”

Yang Min twisted the hem of her skirt with her fingers, pondering in her heart. What kind of person was the Crown Prince?

He appeared gentle and refined, courteous as a true gentleman, yet could write stirring and heroic verses. She wondered what sort of poetry he might compose. His calligraphy was beautiful, unlike any she’d ever seen.

It wasn’t particularly strange; his chambers were piled high with books, and she’d heard he was diligent from a young age, guided by the finest tutors. It was natural he was scholarly.

He was learned and gentle; she had always known of his benevolence. Yet seeing him today, her heart felt inexplicably unsettled.

Lady Yang pressed her again.

Unable to hold back, Yang Min replied, “He’s a very good person!”

“Thank heaven! Amitabha! Husband, I got up before dawn this morning, burned incense, and the Bodhisattva has indeed blessed us.” Lady Yang, having spoken, immediately stood, hurried to the altar, offered three sticks of incense, and bowed three times.

Returning, she said, “Min’er, we still have that Korean ginseng from the Queen’s last reward. Tomorrow, I’ll buy a hen and make some soup for you to take to the Eastern Palace.”

“You’re being ridiculous. The Eastern Palace has its own kitchens; what isn’t available there? Besides, would the palace guards permit you to bring food inside?”

“Eldest son, I’ve muddled things. Never mind, Min’er, could you invite His Highness to our home? I’ve never seen him up close.” The impression had changed; now she wished to look upon her future son-in-law.

This wouldn’t violate protocol, but Yang Min felt uncertain now.

Her eyes were somewhat confused. This future husband, possibly the foremost man in Great Tang, had been gentle with her all morning. Yet such gentleness made her vaguely uneasy.

She recalled how he treated that young palace maid and, without reason, felt a twinge of jealousy.

If he were to write those magnificent verses for her, or sing those strange songs…

Once again her cheeks flushed. Could she truly have fallen for this sickly young man?

………………………………

Spring deepened each day. In the Eastern Palace, some peach blossoms, unable to withstand the warm east wind, bloomed delicately on the branches, their redness dazzling.

Li Wei had been even busier these days. First, he had to study. He read many ancient texts—Tang poetry, Song lyrics, Yuan plays, even some Ming and Qing poems, and other miscellaneous subjects. Yet he never much cared for the ancient classics, finding them dry and difficult. For instance, without a translation, he could only understand a quarter of the “Book of Documents.”

But what was he studying now? The ancient classics and philosophies. Li Hong was well-read, so Li Wei needed something to show for himself. Fortunately, he was clever, had a grounding in classical literature, and with no other distractions, had made rapid progress these days.

He also exercised. After a few days’ effort, the illness from his earlier chill was completely gone, though he still took medicine for his lingering tuberculosis. Eventually, he managed to perform a complete set of Chen-style Tai Chi with his current body.

Autumn rain brings cold, but spring rain brings warmth. After heavy rains, another gentle shower arrived, and the weather cleared, growing ever warmer.

In the harmony of spring, Li Wei was engrossed in reading “Rites.” Outside, a eunuch entered to report that Yang Min sought an audience.

“Let her in.”

The eunuch withdrew, and Bi’er muttered resentfully, “A weasel wishing the chicken a happy New Year—nothing good comes of it.”

Li Wei tapped her forehead with a finger. “Little girl, if she doesn’t visit, you say she’s neglectful. If she does, you say she’s up to no good. What do you expect her to do?”

Bi’er stuck out her tongue.

Yang Min entered, about to perform a formal salute, but Li Wei stopped her, saying, “I’ve told you, it’s not necessary. After all, we’re family; no need for such formality.”

“I dare not,” but Yang Min obediently sat down. She opened her small bundle and took out a blue padded jacket. “Your Highness, I hurriedly made this for you. The weather in February is unpredictable; sometimes there’s a chill. I hope it will keep you warm. I didn’t have time to embroider a pattern.”

Seeing Li Wei accept it with a half-smile, she added, “Your Highness, I truly made this myself. I’m clumsy, but my needlework is passable at least.”

“Thank you,” Li Wei replied sincerely.

After all, Yang Min was only fifteen by the reckoning of the time, and just thirteen by modern count. What could a thirteen-year-old do in later generations?

Yang Min glanced at Li Wei, who smiled gently, warm as jade. Yet the more he appeared thus, the more nervous she felt. After a few days apart, he seemed healthier, with rare traces of color on his previously pale cheeks.

After tea was served, she nervously asked, “Your Highness, you mentioned that some lyrics must be accompanied by drums and sung boldly to express their true meaning. But are there ancient poems that could achieve the same effect?”

“Indeed. Cao Mengde’s ‘Viewing the Blue Sea,’ Sui Chancellor Yang Su’s ‘Beyond the Border,’ Lu Shengzhi’s ‘Song of Rain and Snow,’ and ‘Water on the Long Head’ from the Lu family of Fanyang—all have sweeping grandeur.”

“I’ve heard of these…” Yang Min faltered. She wanted him to compose a heroic poem for her.

Li Wei understood her thoughts. Seeing her small hands had made him a jacket, he picked up his brush and wrote:

Black clouds press against the city, threatening its collapse;
Armor shines in the sunlight, golden scales opening.

With a few strokes, he captured the tense atmosphere of battle.

Continuing:

The sound of horns fills autumn skies,
Rouge condenses into purple in the night beyond the frontier.
Half-unfurled red banners beside the Yi River,
Heavy frost silences the drums.
To answer your will from the Golden Terrace,
I wield my jade sword and die for you.

When Han Yu later read this poem, he straightened his attire and invited Li He, so deeply was he impressed. Such was the poem’s allure.

“A splendid poem!” Yang Min murmured in admiration. Lyrics and songs might lack refinement, but poetry and essays were the mainstream of the literary world. She could not help but praise it.

Li Wei thought to himself: splendid indeed—my mind is full of poems, lyrics, and songs.

He claimed all these works as his own, but who could challenge him? Was Li Bai to transmigrate and compete with him?

“Could you give me this poem?” Yang Min whispered. She couldn’t steal, but facing Li Wei, recalling her past with Li Hong, she felt ever more nervous, unable to confidently ask for a poem.

“Take it.”

“Thank you, Your Highness!” The little beauty’s voice trembled with joy. After a few sips of tea, she cautiously asked, “May I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“That strange song you sang the other day—I thought about it after returning. Its spirit is broad; the line ‘Heroes need not fear humble origins, with lofty ambitions even the heavens are proud’ is very inspiring. But wasn’t that song mainly to thank a young lady?”

Li Wei mused: How did she know Xiao Qi dedicated it to a young lady? If so, that would be a mistake. But he couldn’t answer directly, so he said, “It was an impromptu song. If I must thank someone, I’m most grateful to Bi’er. These years, my health has been poor, and only Bi’er has dared serve me despite the risks.”

Bi’er was moved and knelt, choking back tears. “Your Highness, it’s what I should do. Please don’t say so, I can’t bear it.”

Li Wei had praised her before, but saying it before the future Crown Princess carried a different weight.

Yang Min looked disappointed.

Li Wei helped Bi’er up. “It’s not praise, you deserve it.”

Then he looked at Yang Min with meaning. “You’re still young, not fully aware of the world. Whatever happened in the past, I’ve forgotten. But remember this: if you wish others to treat you well, you must treat them well. Though giving does not always bring reward, without giving, there can be no reward.”

“Yes,” Yang Min replied softly. She wasn’t angry; instead, her mood brightened.

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She responded quietly, looking hopefully at Li Wei. “My mother wishes you might honor us by visiting our home. Would you?”

“We’ll see,” Li Wei patted his chest.

“Mm,” her voice grew softer, her head lowering, lost in thought.

Though she was stunningly beautiful, Li Wei was no lovesick fool. Moreover, as Crown Prince, once he ascended the throne, what beauty could he not obtain?

The little beauty’s revolution was not yet victorious; comrades must persevere.

………………………………

Two swallows flitted beneath the tall eaves.

Bi’er exclaimed with delight, “Your Highness, the swallows have returned!”

“Spring has truly arrived in Guanzhong,” Li Wei remarked. In the blink of an eye, ten days had passed.

“Look, what are the swallows carrying in their beaks?”

The building was tall; from afar, it was unclear. Li Wei squinted, watching for a while before saying, “It’s a small twig. These swallows are building a nest here.”

“That’s wonderful! We’ll be able to see the little swallows.”

“Yes, but it will be many days before we see them. They must first build the nest, then lay eggs. When the chicks hatch, they’ll bring back insects to feed them, then teach them to fly. That’s the most touching time.” Li Wei watched the pair, unaware they were being observed, continuing to carve graceful black shapes in the air, chirping happily.

Bi’er suddenly turned to look at Li Wei.

“Why are you staring at me? Is there a flower on my face?”

“No, Your Highness. I’ve served at your side all day today, and I haven’t heard you cough once.”

Thinking carefully, it was true.

“Should I summon the imperial physician to examine you?”

“All right.”

The best method would be an X-ray, but under current conditions… Still, traditional Chinese medicine could not be underestimated, though it was more difficult. For example, feeling the pulse—unless one had extensive practical knowledge, what could be discerned by flipping through books?

Moreover, many half-baked practitioners had tarnished the reputation of Chinese medicine through fraud and pretense.

But the imperial physicians in the palace had profound expertise in Chinese medicine, and for ailments like tuberculosis, their diagnoses were reliably accurate.

Watching Bi’er’s figure depart, Li Wei felt a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. If he could receive good news, it would mean he had taken his first major step forward.

But tuberculosis!…

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