Chapter Forty-Three: Refusing Once More (Part One)

“The affairs of the world are unpredictable—such is fate, such is destiny. What a pity, what a pity!” Li Xian gripped the memorial tightly, and after a long, heavy silence, suddenly raised his head and let out a deep, lingering sigh. In that moment, his bearing was nothing like that of a youth, but rather resembled that of an old man weathered by the years, leaving all those attending him utterly astounded. Yet Li Xian himself seemed entirely unaware, lost in his own reverie—though he appeared to be just a boy of ten or so, in truth, with memories from three lifetimes, few events on earth could truly shock him anymore. Clearly, the matter described in the memorial was one of those rare exceptions.

The memorial itself was nothing out of the ordinary, densely filled with words, but once the empty formalities and verbose courtesies were stripped away, it spoke of only one thing—Shangguan Yi’s entire family was dead! According to Jia Qu, Prefect of Liuzhou, the family had been boating on the Lishui River when a mountain flood broke out. Their vessel sank in the river’s heart, and all aboard perished; the corpses were swept into the sea by the floodwaters, never to be found.

Li Xian had long anticipated Shangguan Yi’s death, suspecting he would likely never make it to Aizhou. But now that the news had truly arrived, he could not help but be filled with emotion—not only for the sake of Shangguan Wan’er, but even more so as he pondered his own fate. If, after all his efforts, the endpoint was merely a return to the beginning, what meaning could there be in anything? Was he to drift with the current, surrendering to the tide? No, never! The suffering of his past lives was something Li Xian would never willingly endure again.

Wait—something about this felt off! After a period of silent reflection, Li Xian snapped back to himself, his thoughts stirring. He began to suspect the Crown Prince’s true purpose in sending someone to deliver this memorial in such haste. If the Shangguan family had truly died in a natural disaster, the Crown Prince would have had no need to dispatch a special envoy. Clearly, the death of Shangguan Yi was not a stroke of nature but the work of human hands. Though Li Xian could not say exactly how the Crown Prince had learned the truth, nor could he be completely certain of his own conjecture, reason suggested it was likely so. Moreover, the Crown Prince’s real intention in sending this memorial was almost certainly to elicit a response from Li Xian.

“Ah, I lost my composure for a moment—Eunuch Wang, forgive my rudeness. You have come a long way and must be tired. Gao Miao, go to the accounts room and draw out ten strings of cash to thank Eunuch Wang on my behalf.”

He could understand the Crown Prince’s intention, but to declare a stance now was out of the question. Even though they shared a common interest in restraining Empress Wu’s growing ambitions, and occasional cooperation was possible, Li Xian would never formally align himself with the Crown Prince. He knew well that the Crown Prince was no match for Empress Wu and would likely fall victim to her ruthlessness. To join him now would be to share his fate in destruction—how could Li Xian possibly agree to that? So, with a quick flick of his eyes and a forced smile, he handed the memorial back to Wang Dequan, issued the order, and without giving the eunuch another chance to speak, led his retinue straight into his residence.

“Your Highness…” Wang Dequan, though unaware of the Crown Prince’s true motives in sending the memorial, knew he needed to get a response from Li Xian regarding Shangguan Yi’s death. At first, seeing Li Xian’s deep lamentation, he had thought a commentary was forthcoming, and his spirits had risen—yet to his surprise, Li Xian said nothing further. As Li Xian turned to leave, Wang Dequan grew anxious and called after him, but Li Xian ignored him, walking away without a backward glance, leaving Wang Dequan flushed and frustrated.

“Eunuch Wang, please.” Gao Miao, seeing Wang Dequan preparing to chase after Li Xian, naturally could not allow it. Though he said “please,” his arm barred the way. Seeing this, Wang Dequan could do nothing but stop in disappointment, swallowing several times in frustration, stamping his foot, and watching helplessly as Li Xian disappeared into the distance…

In the Hall of Virtue, the Crown Prince Li Hong sat behind his desk, his expression calm as ever. Yet the hand holding his brush hung motionless in the air, unable to inscribe a single character on the memorial before him. Clearly, Li Hong’s thoughts were far from his work, his faintly furrowed brow and distracted gaze betraying his inner anxiety and unrest. Only when footsteps echoed through the hall did he snap from his reverie, raising his head to see Wang Dequan return. A flash of emotion crossed Li Hong’s eyes, but he restrained the urge to question immediately, merely lifting his brow and watching as Wang Dequan approached.

“Your Highness, this servant has delivered the memorial for Prince Zhou’s inspection.”

Wang Dequan could not fathom Li Hong’s reasoning, but he sensed the Crown Prince’s deep concern for the matter, and suspected he had failed his task. Feeling Li Hong’s gaze, Wang Dequan grew nervous, hastily bowing low and reporting in a subdued voice, his head bowed deep, not daring to meet Li Hong’s eyes.

“Well, what did my seventh brother say?”

From Wang Dequan’s demeanor, Li Hong already guessed the outcome, his face darkening instantly. Still, a sliver of hope lingered, so he pressed on.

“Your Highness, Prince Zhou only said…”

Wang Dequan knew he had failed, but dared not embellish or excuse himself in front of Li Hong. He recounted everything honestly and in detail.

“The affairs of the world are unpredictable? What a phrase!” Li Hong muttered, waving his hand to dismiss Wang Dequan. No longer in the mood to feign diligence, he set his vermilion brush aside, rose, and began pacing the front terrace of the hall, his brows knitting ever deeper. He pondered long and hard, but could not unravel the mystery of Li Xian’s repeated refusals of his goodwill.

Was Li Xian so foolish as not to recognize his intentions? That seemed unlikely. In the past, Li Hong might have thought so, but after the incident with the imperial prison, he understood that his seventh brother was not as simple as he appeared. Yet, if Li Xian harbored ambitions, his behavior did not fit—no prince with designs on the throne would abandon the civil path for the martial, and even if he wished to practice the martial arts, he would not make such a spectacle of it. It was pure self-exile, a road to ruin. Li Hong had once suspected this was a stratagem of retreat, but after months of observation, he was astonished to find that Li Xian truly devoted himself solely to martial practice, never once setting foot in the study. It did not seem an act, and this puzzled Li Hong greatly.

Li Hong’s recent maneuver—secretly instructing Yan Liben to submit a memorial to the Emperor, sending Li Xian out of the capital—had been a test, merely to observe how his two younger brothers would react. He had not really expected Yan Liben to succeed, but to his surprise, the Emperor agreed. Li Hong could see the oddity in this, but as the result suited his purposes, he was satisfied. Unfortunately, both brothers were wary and avoided the trap, so the matter passed without consequence. Li Hong could only lament his disappointment. Yet, deep down, he suspected the straightforward Li Xian had escaped this calamity thanks to Li Xian’s secret aid.

To Li Hong, no matter how recklessly Li Xian behaved, his talent was unquestionable. It was for this reason that Li Hong was reluctant to see him drawn entirely to the ambitious Li Xian’s side. But after repeated overtures had been refused, Li Hong grew both troubled and perplexed—he had always treated Li Xian well, never neglecting him, and had often shielded him when he erred. By rights, Li Xian should bear no resentment. Yet, in reality, Li Xian had chosen to side with the brother who had always treated him coldly. The mystery of it all left Li Hong deeply unsettled.

“Attend me!”

After a few circuits on the terrace, Li Hong stopped abruptly, raised his brow, and called out in a clear, commanding voice.

“Your servant is here.”

Wang Dequan, who had been waiting by the doors, hurried in at Li Hong’s summons, bowing low.

“Go, summon Prince Zhou to the palace. Tell him I have urgent matters to discuss.”

After much deliberation, Li Hong decided he could not stand by and watch Li Xian drift toward Li Xian’s camp. He resolved to try once more, to see if anything might be salvaged. Gritting his teeth, he issued the summons.

“Yes, Your Highness. Your servant obeys.”

Wang Dequan, having only just returned from Prince Zhou’s residence, was stunned by the new order, his mind awhirl with questions. But at a glance at Li Hong’s expression, he dared not protest, hastily bowing and withdrawing from the hall, setting off once more for Prince Zhou’s residence.

“Seventh brother, O seventh brother, I hope you will not disappoint my earnest intentions, or else…”

After Wang Dequan’s departure, Li Hong stood woodenly for a moment, clenched his jaw, and muttered to himself before returning to his seat behind the desk.

“Achoo, achoo…” Perhaps there truly is such a thing as telepathy in this world, for just as Li Hong was gritting his teeth in the palace, Li Xian, having just finished his bath, set one foot across the threshold and was seized by a fit of sneezes, startling the maids attending him into frantic action—a chorus of complaints and solicitous concern rising in a lively clamor…