Chapter 58: The Proposal to Present Tribute (Part One)

Time passed swiftly, and in the blink of an eye, the Mid-Autumn Festival was approaching. The capital was abuzz with preparations for the coming festivities. Li Xian was just as busy, though not with martial training—he had long since grown accustomed to that, and would feel ill at ease if he didn’t practice for at least half the day. No, Li Xian’s current labor was of a different sort: counting money until his hands cramped!

Two and a half months—neither particularly long nor short—had slipped by in a flash. Yet in these brief days, Li Xian had already made nearly ten thousand strings of cash from folding fans alone. Once folding fans became fashionable in the palace, the households of the aristocracy quickly followed suit. In merely ten days, the delicate folding fan became the capital’s hottest trend, from nobles to butchers and porters, nearly everyone owned one. The only difference was the quality of the fans—those with money played with gold and jade, those without made do with plain fans. Li Xian’s fan workshop had expanded several times, but demand still far outstripped supply. Not only did merchants in the capital bring ready cash to claim his goods, but traders from Luoyang and even Jiangdu flocked in as well. The daily haul of copper coins was so vast it could only be transported by ox cart, leaving Li Xian grinning from ear to ear.

His first venture had succeeded spectacularly, and the money poured in. Yet Li Xian kept a clear head, knowing well that folding fans were simple in design and easy to imitate. Imitations had already begun to appear in the market, though their quality was poor and their scale small, allowing Li Xian to profit handsomely for now. Next year, however, he knew he could not expect the same fortune—after all, imitation was a national talent, passed down through generations. There was nothing the people could not replicate. Still, Li Xian was unconcerned; folding fans were merely his tool for earning that first pot of gold. Even if he abandoned them, it mattered little. Next year, when others rush into the folding fan business, Li Xian would be ready to launch soap. As long as new products continued to flow, he would never worry about making money.

Money was a marvelous thing, and Li Xian certainly did not find himself burdened by too much of it. In fact, even with ten thousand strings of cash, he found it insufficient. Not to mention the expenses Lin Hu incurred in quietly opening taverns and teahouses throughout the capital, which consumed nearly half of his earnings. Add to that Gao Miao’s costs for currying favor with eunuchs in the palace, and little remained. As for Deng Cheng, the expansion of their business also required financial support. Thus, money flowed in like water, and flowed out just as swiftly. Li Xian’s manor seemed like a bank, with deposits and loans constantly in motion, yet little actually landed in his own pocket. Still, money was meant to be spent—so long as it was spent rightly, Li Xian would never begrudge it, no matter how much.

Rome was not built in a day, and likewise, the intelligence network and basic staff Li Xian envisioned could not take shape overnight. There was no rushing it; only steady progress, step by step. Li Xian was confident that with time, anything was possible. Of course, those were distant goals, not yet tangible. He would not simply sit and daydream; though pleased with his progress, he never forgot to keep an eye on court affairs, especially preparations for Emperor Gaozong’s coming pilgrimage to Mount Tai.

Li Xian remembered clearly: in his previous life, Emperor Gaozong conducted the pilgrimage to Mount Tai on New Year’s Day, spurred by Empress Wu’s urging. Many events occurred during that period, each carrying lasting impact. The first of these was Empress Wu’s encouragement of Gaozong to appoint her as the second officiant, arguing, “The Emperor is the Son of Heaven; offering sacrifices to Heaven is a family matter, and cannot be entrusted to outsiders. As his wife, I should perform the rites myself.” Gaozong astonishingly agreed to this absurd reasoning, issuing a decree naming Empress Wu as the second officiant and the Princess of Yan as the third, turning a solemn ceremony into a historic farce.

The pilgrimage was a grand ritual, governed by ancient precedent. The Emperor led the first offering, the Minister of Rites the second, and the most venerable person in court the third. With Empress Wu’s changes, the ceremony became a mockery, forever infamous. Of course, Empress Wu’s motives were not simply caprice—during the previous pilgrimage, she had already shared power with Gaozong as co-sovereign, though her position was not yet secure. Serving as the second officiant would both highlight her status and provide an opportunity to reward and win over officials. It was also a deliberate act of audacity, testing whether anyone dared object. As it happened, not a single courtier uttered a protest, solidifying Wu’s authority beyond challenge.

In his previous life, Li Xian had been a timid and ineffectual young prince. Though he knew Empress Wu’s actions were improper, he lacked the courage to speak out and did not consider the consequences. In this life, however, Li Xian refused to be a mere spectator. To prevent the tragedy from repeating, he had no choice but to resist, even at some risk. Yet the political landscape had shifted, thanks to Li Xian’s own interventions; Empress Wu’s ascendancy had not yet occurred, and Li Xian could not be sure if she would again request the second officiant role. Therefore, he could only wait for news from Luoyang. In his memory, the pilgrimage decree was issued the day before Mid-Autumn, announced amid a batch of imperial rewards. Now, it was the twelfth day of the eighth month—just two days away. Li Xian expected clarity soon, though events unfolded faster than anticipated. He had just finished his martial exercises, not yet washed, when a messenger arrived from the Eastern Palace, summoning him to the palace at once.

“Your subject and younger brother greets the Crown Prince.”

Summoned by the Crown Prince, Li Xian dared not delay. After a quick wash, he hurried to the palace. Entering the study of Xiande Hall, he saw Crown Prince Li Hong seated solemnly behind his desk. Li Xian quickly stepped forward, respectfully saluting and offering his greetings.

“No need for formality, Seventh Brother. Come, sit.”

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Li Hong seemed extremely fatigued, yet seeing Li Xian arrive, he forced a smile and gestured to the seat opposite him.

“Thank you for your kindness, Crown Prince. I am content to stand; please instruct me as you wish.”

The seat opposite the Crown Prince was not one to take lightly—it implied parity with the heir. Li Xian did not wish to overstep, so he declined politely.

“No need for such restraint. There are no outsiders here; we are brothers, so why keep such distance? Sit.”

Li Hong smiled at Li Xian’s caution, waving it off with a hint of gentle reproach.

“Yes, I obey.”

Hearing Li Hong’s words, Li Xian could not persist in his modesty. After a moment’s hesitation, he took his seat as instructed.

“I’ve heard that Seventh Brother has been diligent in martial training lately. I am gratified. With your talent and effort, you will surely achieve great things.”

Li Hong did not get straight to the point, but rather praised Li Xian with a smile.

“You flatter me, Crown Prince. I am but a willow among pines, hoping that effort may make up for lack. I am not a person of great promise.”

Uncertain of the Crown Prince’s intentions, Li Xian remained cautious and humble.

“Yes, effort can make up for weakness; those with great perseverance succeed in the end. The ancients were not wrong. If you uphold this principle, your future will be limitless and a blessing to our nation.”

Li Hong seemed intent on praising Li Xian, refusing to let up. Yet to Li Xian’s ears, it sounded rather off—no one offers such compliments without motive!

What is he up to? Trying to set me up? Li Xian was shrewd enough not to be dazzled by Li Hong’s words. Though his mind raced, his face remained grateful as he replied, “Your guidance is correct, Crown Prince. I will remember it always and act accordingly.”

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“Yes, very good.” Li Hong was clearly pleased with Li Xian’s response, nodding with a smile before suddenly growing solemn. His tone heavy, he said, “Father will perform the pilgrimage to Mount Tai, and has ordered us to depart at the end of the month. Seventh Brother, you must be aware of this?”

“Crown Prince, I have heard rumors, but have not yet received Father’s summons. Do you have any advice?”

At the mention of the pilgrimage, Li Xian’s heart tightened, a sense of foreboding rising within him. Yet he maintained his composure, replying respectfully.

“Advice? Seventh Brother, you are the talented one—it is I who should seek your counsel.”

Li Hong smiled wryly, waving off Li Xian’s protest. From his wide sleeves, he withdrew a decree, wrapped in imperial yellow silk, and handed it to Li Xian with a bitter tone. “Father’s decree is here. Seventh Brother, please read it.”

Here it comes—the heart of the matter! Li Xian’s heart lurched with apprehension, but his face was a picture of anxious humility as he protested, “Forgive me, Crown Prince; I dare not be so presumptuous.”

“Don’t worry, just read it.”

Li Hong insisted, pushing the decree closer to Li Xian.

“Yes, I am overstepping.”

Li Xian was intensely curious about the contents of the decree; his earlier protest had been mere formality. Seeing Li Hong’s insistence, he gladly yielded. He respectfully accepted the decree, placed it on the desk, then knelt and bowed deeply before moving forward to open it. As he read, his expression grew ever more grave, his heart pounding wildly, and sweat began to bead across his brow…