Chapter Forty-Seven: The Grand Scheme Begins (Part One)

Li Xian was clearly in high spirits. Though he did not go so far as to lose himself in elation, the phrase “overjoyed” was more than sufficient to describe his mood. This was not merely because he had gained insight while practicing with his saber; in truth, Li Xian cared little whether he himself could master peerless martial arts. What mattered most was obtaining the “Duke Wei’s Art of War.” If he could acquire it, his own mastery was secondary—the key was to use it to cultivate capable subordinates. “Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun”—this universal truth applied everywhere. Now, with everything proceeding according to plan, it could be said that all was going smoothly. Even the subtle change in Li Boyao’s demeanor before she left had not escaped Li Xian’s seasoned eyes. As the saying goes, a good beginning is half the battle; Li Xian had ample reason for excitement.

“Your Highness, Lin Qinshi has returned.”

As the saying goes, when one thing goes well, everything else follows suit. Just after Li Xian had finished lunch and was secretly pleased at winning Li Boyao’s favor, Gao Miao rushed in, brimming with excitement, to deliver news that instantly invigorated him.

“Oh? Good, send him in!”

Compared to the news Lin Hu had brought, training in martial arts was but a trivial matter. At the mention of Lin Hu’s arrival, Li Xian immediately cast aside all thoughts of practice, sprang up, and, with barely contained excitement, gave the order.

“Your Highness, this humble general has fulfilled his mission. Prince Lu has sent a letter.”

Not long after Gao Miao departed, Lin Hu entered the study, dust-laden and weary, yet moving with urgency. Upon seeing Li Xian, he bowed deeply, reporting as he withdrew a sealed letter from his breast, presenting it above his head with both hands.

Li Xian took the letter but did not rush to open it. Instead, he smiled and nodded to Lin Hu: “You’ve worked hard, Qinshi. Go and rest well.”

“Yes, your subordinate takes his leave.”

The day before, by Li Xian’s command, Lin Hu had ridden hard to Qizhou and back, covering nearly six hundred li in a day—he was already exhausted, running now on willpower alone. So, hearing Li Xian’s words, he breathed a sigh of relief, quickly accepted the dismissal, and withdrew to rest.

What a cautious fellow—petty, even! Li Xian broke the seal and unfolded the letter, scanning it quickly. His brows furrowed as he silently cursed, though he did not show his displeasure. The letter was short—barely three hundred words, excluding the courtesies—and contained but a single message: in principle, Li Xian’s proposal was accepted, but all matters were to be handled by Censor Lin Qi, while Li Xian would nominally serve as the director.

Director? It sounded impressive, but in truth, it was little more than an empty title. To put it plainly, Li Xian saw through Li Xian’s intent: he merely feared Li Xian would interfere among his own faction. Of course, should any mishap arise, the “director” would bear the blame. Such behavior, to Li Xian’s mind, was petty and ignoble, unworthy of serious consideration. Still, he had no interest in quibbling over such details. After all, the true protagonists of this political struggle were the Crown Prince and the Empress Wu. Li Xian’s role was simply to stoke the flames and see if he could benefit in passing. So long as he acted with care, nothing serious could go wrong.

“Gao Miao.”

Li Xian paced the study, reviewing his plan several times in his mind. Satisfied that there were no flaws, he suddenly stopped and raised his voice.

“Your servant is here.”

Gao Miao had been waiting at the door. At Li Xian’s summons, he quickly entered, answering without delay.

“You are to go in person to Censor Lin Qi’s residence and invite him here for a discussion. Go quickly and return swiftly.”

“Yes, as Your Highness commands.”

Gao Miao, ever cautious, did not understand the purpose of the order, but seeing that Li Xian offered no explanation, he did not press for one. He simply accepted the command and left to seek Lin Qi.

“Your Highness, Censor Lin has arrived at the gate.”

Gao Miao went quickly and returned even faster. Li Xian had hardly finished his cup of tea when Gao Miao came bustling back into the study, making his report.

Hmm? Arrived uninvited—what a coincidence! Ha, that sixth brother of mine is truly narrow-minded! Li Xian was momentarily surprised, but quickly realized this was a precaution from Li Xian, who clearly did not trust him. Lin Qi must have already received instructions from Li Xian; otherwise, such timing was too coincidental.

“Show him in.”

Despite the many turns in his thoughts, Li Xian’s face remained calm. He set down his teacup and gave the order without betraying his feelings.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

With Li Xian’s command, Gao Miao quickly withdrew, returning shortly with a middle-aged official in tow. The man had phoenix eyes, thick brows, a fair complexion, and three long whiskers fluttering in the breeze—a truly distinguished appearance.

“Your subordinate Lin Qi greets Prince Zhou.”

The official stepped forward, bowing with a flourish of his wide sleeves. He introduced himself without waiting for Gao Miao to do so. Though his manners were proper, his tone carried a faint air of pride.

“Censor Lin, you are too courteous. Please, be seated. Tea!”

In this lifetime, Li Xian had not met this man, but in his previous life, he had dealt with him often and knew his background thoroughly. Lin Qi, a native of Taiyuan in Shanxi, rose through the civil service examination. He had once served in Prince Lu’s household and, through Li Xian’s covert support, entered the court as an official, first in the Ministry of Rites, then quickly promoted to Censor. When Li Xian became Crown Prince, Lin Qi was soon made Vice Censor-in-Chief and became Li Xian’s most trusted confidant. In his past life, Lin Qi had often acted on Li Xian’s secret orders to make trouble for Li Xian, impeaching him over minor matters and leaving him in frequent embarrassment. In that sense, Lin Qi was an old adversary. Still, past lives were past lives—Li Xian had no intention of conflating the two, yet neither did he wish to appear weak. So he raised his hand perfunctorily and responded with measured indifference.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Lin Qi had expected that, as Prince Lu’s representative, Li Xian would make every effort to win his support. Yet Li Xian’s indifference left him feeling unbalanced. Still, in the prince’s presence, he dared not show any sign of dissatisfaction, so he replied stiffly, seated himself at the lower end of the room, adjusted his robes, and knelt.

Hm, what an ambitious but shallow man! Li Xian’s opinion of Lin Qi was poor—not solely due to past grievances, but because he knew the man was full of lofty ambitions and eloquence, but not truly up to great tasks. In his previous life, Li Xian’s downfall was closely connected to Lin Qi’s incompetence. Now, seeing his arrogant bearing, Li Xian was all the more displeased. Yet, as he was in need of capable people, he did not care to argue. Once fresh tea was brought, he dismissed the attendants with a wave, then spoke after a moment’s reflection.

“Censor Lin, you must have received my sixth brother’s letter. I won’t elaborate further—there is only one point: before I give any orders, please inform the other officials not to act rashly but to wait and see. This is the key to success or failure. Do you have any objections?”

“Of course not, Your Highness. I dare not disobey. However, I am but a humble official, hardly able to command others. If I am to persuade them, I must ask Your Highness to lay out the plan so that I may convey it.”

Lin Qi had received Li Xian’s instructions to follow Li Xian’s lead, but, considering himself a wise man, he was unwilling to submit. Feeling slighted, he was even less inclined to follow orders blindly. So he offered a flimsy excuse, hoping to force Li Xian to reveal his hand.

Insolence! Li Xian had little regard for Lin Qi to begin with, and his words were even more offensive now. Still, Li Xian, ever composed, merely chuckled.

“My brother and I agreed: I make the plans, you execute them as you see fit. If you find it difficult, I won’t insist. You may do as you please—I don’t mind.”

“Uh, well…” For all his reputed eloquence, Lin Qi found himself speechless. His lips quivered for a long moment, but he could find no adequate reply.

“Is it so difficult, Censor Lin? Well, then, let’s pretend I said nothing.”

Li Xian’s scheme was not for his own sake, but to pave the way for Li Xian’s return to the capital. As for curbing the Empress Wu’s ambition, that was Li Hong’s concern, not his. In this, Li Xian was merely gathering what windfalls he could. Success or failure mattered little—there were other ways to bring Li Xian back to the capital if he wished. Seeing Lin Qi so flustered, Li Xian was secretly amused, and pressed him again.

“No, Your Highness, I will follow your orders. I dare not disobey.”

Already discomfited by Li Xian, Lin Qi dared not continue to push back, and quickly yielded.

“Good, then it is settled. Someone, see our guest out!”

With Lin Qi’s acquiescence, Li Xian had no desire to waste further words. He raised his teacup and unceremoniously issued the order to dismiss.

“Your subordinate takes his leave.”

Lin Qi had arrived full of confidence but now departed in dejection. Frustrated as he was, having witnessed Li Xian’s prowess, he dared not resent him further, and could only bow, take his leave, and withdraw in gloom.

“Your Highness, about Censor Lin…”

After Lin Qi left, Gao Miao slipped back into the study. Seeing Li Xian seated with a slight smile, apparently unconcerned by Lin Qi’s awkward departure, Gao Miao felt uneasy, uncertain of what had just transpired. Worried, he approached Li Xian and quietly ventured a question.

“It’s nothing,” Li Xian replied with a laugh, raising his hand to forestall further inquiry. Though his manner was casual, a sharp glint flashed through his eyes.