Chapter Forty-One: Drills, and More Drills (Part One)

Linde, Year Two, eighteenth day of the second month. The imperial examination results were announced: seven were selected as presented scholars, over thirty as learned classics. Luo Binwang, famed throughout the realm for his poetry, was among them, yet placed dead last. As soon as the list was made public, the capital was abuzz, many questioning the fairness of the selection. Luo Binwang himself, however, was unperturbed; to all inquiries he merely attributed his poor performance to an off day, and so the uproar subsided. Soon after, Luo Binwang, as the seventh-ranked presented scholar, attended the Ministry of Personnel’s assessment and was appointed ceremonial officer in the Ministry of Rites, a ninth rank official.

Linde, Year Two, twentieth day of the second month. An edict was issued from the inner court, instructing Prince Li Xian to depart for his fief in Qizhou. This marked the first time since the founding of the Great Tang that a legitimate heir without fault was sent to his domain. The timing was particularly striking, for Li Xian’s reputation had recently surged, his name rising like the midday sun following the prison case. The edict left the entire court dumbfounded; yet, as it concerned imperial matters, though doubt gnawed at their hearts, no minister dared petition against it. Rumors of Li Xian’s fall from favor spread like wildfire.

It was clear this edict struck Li Xian—a man striving eagerly to enter the heart of political affairs—as a sudden and heavy blow, a club to the head, no less. Ministers privately assumed Li Xian would raise a storm in response. Yet, unexpectedly, Li Xian uttered not a word of complaint. He accepted the edict with calm, quietly preparing for his departure, his serene acceptance leaving the ministers perplexed and, paradoxically, earning him greater respect for his composure and sense of propriety.

Linde, Year Two, twenty-second day of the second month. Perhaps to avoid witnessing Li Xian’s farewell, or perhaps bored with lingering in Chang’an, the Emperor suddenly issued an edict to travel eastward to Luoyang for a hunting excursion, leaving Crown Prince Li Hong to oversee the capital. Without waiting for Li Xian to depart for Qizhou, the Emperor, Empress Wu, and the newly two-month-old Princess Taiping set out with great pomp and ceremony. The spectacle was grand, but its haste suggested a hint of avoidance—at least in Li Xian’s eyes.

Everyone left, and perhaps it was for the best—no more fuss and noise! Though Li Xian was deeply unwilling regarding his forced relocation, he had no choice but to “shed tears in farewell.” As for the Emperor and Empress Wu’s departure, Li Xian felt not the slightest trace of attachment. Of course, outwardly he performed all the necessary gestures, but inwardly was filled with the exhilaration of freedom. The Emperor, before leaving, whether by oversight or intent, made no arrangement for Li Xian, nor instructed him to assist the Crown Prince in governance. Thus, Li Xian truly became a leisure prince. If he were as ambitious as Li Xian, he would have felt stifled, but Li Xian was different—he had no intention of quarreling with the Crown Prince or meddling in court affairs when his position was unstable. This respite allowed him to review his future plans without having to guard against Empress Wu’s machinations, leaving him quite satisfied. What pleased him even more was that the “dual sovereignty” that should have occurred in his previous life had not appeared. Clearly, the butterfly wing Li Xian had stirred was beginning to alter history’s course, opening a promising path and giving him confidence and courage to change his own fate.

Confidence and courage are good, but they do not put food on the table. The road ahead is long and must be walked step by step—Li Xian understood this well. Now, with Li Xian sent away, it was time to address a long-delayed matter: martial training!

Li Xian’s desire to train in martial arts was not driven by dreams of battlefield glory, but rather to use it as a convenient cover. Of course, if he could acquire real skills in the process, that would be excellent; even if not, if he could obtain the “Art of War by Duke Wei,” he would be content. Unfortunately, Li Boyao was reluctant to assist, inventing excuse after excuse, delaying for over half a month. While the Emperor was present, Li Xian could not press him too hard and simply let matters be. Now that the Emperor had gone, Li Xian was unwilling to let the matter drag on. As soon as Li Xian departed, Li Xian sent Gao Miao, bearing gifts, to the Duke of Wei’s mansion to demand his presence. This time, Li Boyao made no hollow excuses and agreed to come, much to Li Xian’s delight. Before dawn, he rose, quickly washed, neglected breakfast, and hurriedly changed into his martial attire.

“How do I look? Do I resemble a general?”

Li Xian wore gleaming silver mail, a snow-white cloak, white fox-fur boots, and a hero’s cap adorned with two long pheasant feathers flanking either side. He spun before the great bronze mirror, radiating an air of martial prowess. Indeed, he looked like a young commander in white, though perhaps a bit short and his face rather youthful—more a general from the stage than from the battlefield. Yet Li Xian was quite pleased with himself, circling the mirror, admiring his reflection, unable to resist a self-satisfied grin.

“You certainly do, Your Highness. If you had a silver spear, you’d look even more the part.”

The young maids, seeing Li Xian so immersed in self-admiration, could not help but laugh. Cui Liu, the quickest-tongued, replied first to his question, then doubled over with laughter, soon joined by the others, giggling until they could barely stand.

A silver spear? Damn, this girl! Just wait, you’ll be the first to get a taste of my wrath! Li Xian, still basking in pride, caught the nuance in Cui Liu’s words; after a moment’s thought, he realized she was teasing him, likening him to a “silver spear with a wax tip”—all show, no substance. He glared, adopting the demeanor of a prince preparing to scold, but his posture only made the maids laugh harder, leaving him powerless. He had spoiled them too much; when he tried to assert himself, no one took him seriously. Helpless, he scratched his head, joined their laughter, and soon the room was filled with merriment.

“Your Highness, General Li has arrived.”

Amid the laughter, Gao Miao dashed in and, ignoring the playful chaos, bowed and reported to Li Xian.

“Oh? Excellent, I’ll go greet him at once!”

Hearing Li Boyao had indeed come, Li Xian forgot all about jesting with the maids, waved them off, and prepared to head to the front court.

“Your Highness, General Li is already at the small drill ground. He sent a retainer to inform you, requesting your presence,” Gao Miao explained as Li Xian moved to leave.

“Hm?”

Every prince’s residence included a small drill ground, used not only for training the guards but also for playing polo. Li Xian’s Zhou Prince’s residence was no exception. Li Xian had little interest in polo and had never learned horsemanship, so he’d scarcely set foot there; he only vaguely knew it was located on the western side of the residence. The details, including the route, were unfamiliar to him, and he was puzzled as to how Li Boyao could arrive at the drill ground without entering the residence itself. He was momentarily at a loss.

“Your Highness, General Li has been waiting some time. Shall we…?” Gao Miao prompted again, seeing Li Xian’s hesitation.

“Let’s go, to the drill ground!”

Since Li Boyao was already there, Li Xian had no choice but to meet him. Though displeased with Li Boyao’s refusal to enter the residence, he said nothing, merely motioned for Gao Miao to lead the way, and set out with his guards and maids.

The small drill ground was not so small—nearly thirty acres. Its layout was only slightly smaller than the southern drill ground used by the southern office. One side adjoined the western wall of the residence, connected by a small gate; there were gates to the north and south as well. When Li Xian arrived, the drill ground was already filled with many of the residence’s guard officers. The chief commander, Xiao Yan, stood beside Li Boyao, seemingly discussing something.

“Greetings, Your Highness!”

The guards saw Li Xian emerge from the west gate and hurried to greet him, each bowing in respect; only Li Boyao remained motionless.

“Enough, that will do,” Li Xian said cheerfully, raising his hand to signal the officers to dispense with ceremony. He strode to Li Boyao, bowed, and greeted him politely, “Your humble prince greets General Li.”

“Not at all, Your Highness. Are you preparing for the stage?” Li Boyao replied with a solemn face, but his words made Li Xian frown.

“Well… haha, General Li jests. I am here to seek your instruction,” Li Xian replied, suppressing his irritation and maintaining a pleasant expression.

“Since Your Highness wishes to train, I dare not refuse. Yet I must ask your pardon: I am strict by nature. If Your Highness cannot endure this, I must beg to decline,” Li Boyao said coldly, unmoved by Li Xian’s friendly demeanor.

So, just as expected, it wouldn't be easy. Well then, bring it on! Li Xian knew that Li Boyao was reluctant to teach him and would set obstacles to make him retreat. He smiled lightly, “General Li, rest assured. I am resolved to strengthen myself through martial training and will heed your guidance without fail. Please speak plainly; I shall obey.”

“Very well. Then, Your Highness, please shed this splendid attire and return in simple training clothes.” Li Xian’s candid promise was met by an even more candid demand from Li Boyao, leaving Li Xian inwardly exasperated.

Splendid attire? Damn, fine, I’ll change clothes and see what else you have up your sleeve! Li Xian muttered inwardly, but maintained a bright smile and nodded, “General’s advice is sound. Permit me to change, and I’ll return shortly.”

“Mm.” Li Boyao gave a noncommittal grunt, his face still cold, but his eyes betrayed a hint of something else.

“Please, General Li, I’ll be back soon.”

Li Xian was skilled at reading expressions. Though the flicker in Li Boyao’s eyes was brief, it did not escape him, and he immediately guessed its meaning, though he said nothing. Smiling, he excused himself and led his maids back to his chambers to change clothes.

End.