Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Gentleman for Entertainment Arrives

Just after the Lantern Festival in the second year of Linde, two successive imperial edicts were issued from the inner palace. The first was to name the little princess Taiping as Li Lingyue and to build two Buddhist temples to pray for her blessings. The second was a proclamation to the realm, announcing that Prince Zhou, Li Xian, moved by the endless strife across the empire, had resolved to abandon the civil path for the martial, and would soon visit the Left Vanguard Guard to seek a master, thus setting an example for all to value martial virtue.

The first decree stirred no reaction at court or among the people, causing barely a ripple. The second, however, sent shockwaves throughout the land, igniting heated debate. Some praised Li Xian for his courage to act ahead of his peers, others accused him of hypocrisy and currying favor, still others lamented that his decision disgraced the world of letters, while many fiercely criticized the court’s intentions in issuing such a decree. For a time, a storm of controversy raged, and the court and the capital buzzed with lively debate. Before long, the details of the fierce argument within the Hall of Dual Principles before the Lantern Festival spread among the people, and public opinion swiftly shifted: voices praising Li Xian’s eloquence grew loud, though even more regretted his decision to forsake scholarship for the sword. For a while, Prince Zhou’s renown even seemed to overshadow that of his two elder brothers.

What others say is their business, whether praise or disparagement. Li Xian paid it all no heed, treating it as nothing more than a spring breeze brushing his face. He neither appeared to defend nor involved himself in the debate, but closed his doors and kept to himself. Save for the officials from the Court of Judicial Review who came by imperial order to investigate the matter of Shangguan Wan’er, Li Xian refused all visitors, playing the game of shutting his doors to the world.

Public opinion is like the wind—so it has always been, and so it remains. Without anyone to stir it, it passes quickly, especially when the object of attention refuses to show himself, as Li Xian did. By the end of the first lunar month, the impact of the “martial exhortation” decree had already vanished without a trace. Apart from a few stubborn scholars occasionally grumbling, no more waves were stirred. As for the case of sheltering Shangguan Wan’er, the investigation was conducted several times, but no conclusion was ever reached, nor was there any further development. Li Xian, however, was unconcerned, knowing full well this was merely a tactic of the Empress’s party: to “hold the threat in reserve, awaiting the right moment.” It was no secret—after all, a hammer is only threatening when held aloft; once brought down, it brings little effect beyond a moment’s pain. Clearly, in the matter of Shangguan Wan’er, the Empress’s faction had calculated just so.

To say he was entirely untroubled would be untrue. No official relishes having even the smallest vulnerability in the hands of a political enemy, and Li Xian was no exception—especially when his adversary was Wu Meiniang, his nemesis. Yet he felt no regret. If given the chance to choose again, he would not alter his decision for one simple reason: a man should save his own woman—there was nothing more to say. As for what troubles the future might bring, he would meet them as they came; soldiers to meet the invading army, earth to block the incoming water—nothing insurmountable.

The first day of the second lunar month of the second year of Linde, in the year of Bingyin, was the new moon—a day auspicious for travel and seeking a master. It was the very day Li Xian had long awaited. Having secured imperial permission days in advance, he rose before dawn, went through his morning routine as if preparing for battle, and hurriedly ordered his carriage, intent on arriving at the Left Vanguard Guard’s drill ground before practice began. Yet fate seemed unwilling to grant his wish: he had barely stepped beyond the inner gates when the steward came running to report that Lord Helan Minzhi, Duke of Zhou, was waiting outside.

What on earth was that scoundrel doing here? The news stunned Li Xian. He could not fathom what business such a notorious playboy could have with him—Helan Minzhi, styled Changzhu, aged seventeen, was the son of Lady Wu Shun, Wu Meiniang’s elder sister. Because Wu Meiniang despised her two half-brothers, Helan Minzhi had inherited the title of Duke of Zhou from Wu Meiniang’s father after his death. Indulged by his mother and aunt, both favored by the Emperor, Helan Minzhi had run roughshod over the capital, bullying men and women alike—a thoroughgoing wastrel. Li Xian had always regarded him as filth and avoided him at all costs, never associating with him, and if by chance they crossed paths, he would feign not to see him. Since his rebirth, Li Xian had never once met this fellow. Now, to hear that the rogue had come uninvited to his gate was truly perplexing, and he could not guess Helan Minzhi’s intentions.

“Let him wait. I’ll be there shortly.”

With the man already at his door, it would not do to refuse him. Yet, given Helan Minzhi’s notorious behavior, Li Xian had no intention of letting him into his own residence. Irritated, he waved the steward away and paced a few times before strolling toward the gate.

Though it was early spring, the air was still bitterly cold, the morning chill biting as a knife. Yet Helan Minzhi appeared utterly unfazed, wearing only a light robe under a white cloak, standing in the wind with his back to the rising sun. His garments fluttered, lending him an air of otherworldly grace—at least, if one ignored the roguish gleam in his eyes. Even Li Xian, who detested him, could not help but be momentarily struck by his striking appearance.

“Ah, Seventh Brother, you’ve finally come out! I thought you were hiding from me. Well, it’s good—I haven’t waited in vain.” As soon as he saw Li Xian emerge with his retinue, Helan Minzhi bounded forward, his tone insolent and boisterous, all the refined airs of a nobleman gone, replaced by the swagger of a street ruffian—much like the “young masters” of later generations.

Enough of this—who would ever call such a man brother? Li Xian, though not fond of ceremony, found himself suddenly nostalgic for the strictures of etiquette in the face of Helan Minzhi’s wanton manner. Yet the fellow showed no sign of self-restraint, and Li Xian could hardly rebuke him outright. With no alternative, he forced himself to smile and nod. “Cousin, good morning. What brings you here today? Is there something important?”

“Well, it’s not exactly important, but not trivial either. Frankly, it’s your fault, Seventh Brother.” Helan Minzhi grinned, clapping Li Xian on the shoulder and launching into a rambling explanation.

Damn it, what the hell do I have to do with you? Don’t try to cozy up to me and tarnish my reputation! Li Xian inwardly bristled at Helan Minzhi, wishing he could stuff a rag in his mouth to silence his nonsense. But the man was like glue—once stuck, not easily shaken off. Worse, his mother and aunt both shared the Emperor’s bed; should he start whispering in their ears, Li Xian’s life would become even more miserable. Helpless, Li Xian could only force a bitter smile and say, “Cousin, I have some affairs to attend to. Perhaps we could talk when I return?”

“Ah, but isn’t it precisely your business I’m here about? You’re off to the Left Vanguard Guard to find an instructor, aren’t you? You’ve really gotten me into trouble!” No sooner had Li Xian finished speaking than Helan Minzhi slapped his thigh in mock distress, his face a mask of exaggerated woe.

What nonsense is this—could he be planning to take up martial training as well? Impossible. What could this possibly be about? Li Xian was utterly bewildered, unable to tell if Helan Minzhi had simply lost his mind or was here to make trouble. Yet he could not say as much aloud, and so he chose his words carefully. “Cousin, I’m not sure I follow you.”

“Oh, I spoke too quickly—my apologies, my apologies.” Though he mouthed apologies, Helan Minzhi wore a mischievous grin, utterly unrepentant, and Li Xian’s hands itched to slap him.

“Cousin, the drill ground cannot be delayed. If you have something to say, please be direct.” Irritated by Helan Minzhi’s endless chatter, Li Xian frowned, his tone growing cool.

“Look at you, Seventh Brother! I’m not in a hurry, but you are. Fine, I’ll get to the point.” Helan Minzhi laughed, clapping his hands. “As soon as the martial exhortation decree came out, you were in the spotlight, but I, your poor cousin, was conscripted. Her Majesty the Empress sent down an edict for me to train in arms alongside you. I have no choice in the matter—a real humiliation, truly boring!”

Damn it, to be saddled with such an odious companion—how revolting! Li Xian instantly saw through Wu Meiniang’s intentions. This wasn’t to have Helan Minzhi learn martial arts, but to have him disrupt things. Given Helan Minzhi’s notorious reputation, everyone in the capital avoided him. If Li Xian were seen in his company, his own name would be tainted, and who would dare take him as a student? In the end, Li Xian’s martial training would become a laughingstock.

A troublesome edict, indeed. Without it, Li Xian might simply have broken with Helan Minzhi. But with the Empress’s command, he could not easily refuse, for filial piety was paramount. Even if he felt no affection or respect for his ruthless mother, the bond could not be severed at will, and he was unwilling to bear the stigma of unfilial conduct. Besides, under present circumstances, an edict from the Empress was as good as an imperial decree, and Li Xian dared not openly defy it. Trapped in such a predicament, he was at a loss as to how to extricate himself.

“Cousin, do you truly wish to train in arms?” After a moment’s thought, Li Xian suddenly smiled.

“What, do you have a plan, Seventh Brother? Tell me—quick, let’s hear it!” Slothful by nature, Helan Minzhi would never have come but for the Empress’s wrath. At Li Xian’s hint of a solution, his eyes lit up with excitement, and he pressed Li Xian eagerly for an answer…