Chapter Sixty: The Tiger Lord and the Grandson of Dogs (Part One)

Damn it, I’ve been duped! Dizzy with the realization, Li Xian suddenly understood the trap he’d unwittingly walked into. Back in the Eastern Palace, his mind had been set on preventing Empress Wu from serving as the Second Presenter, barely giving thought to Li Hong’s perspective. But once Lin Qi stirred the pot, Li Xian abruptly awoke from his single-mindedness, realizing he’d fallen straight into Li Hong’s scheme. A surge of irritation swept through him—not at Li Hong’s cunning, but at his own carelessness.

Li Hong’s design, though subtle, was not particularly sophisticated once unraveled. He had merely exploited Li Xian’s tendency to overlook certain things. The crux was Li Xian’s promise to visit the Duke of England’s residence. Li Ji was a cautious man who, whenever imperial succession was at stake, always sought to keep his distance. Throughout his life, he only ever made a vague statement under duress when Empress Wu’s elevation was at issue; otherwise, he always stayed as far away from royal disputes as possible. When Emperor Taizong launched the Xuanwu Gate coup, he sought Li Ji’s advice, but Li Ji remained silent, even resigning his post and returning home to avoid involvement. Later, as the emperor’s sons vied for the throne, Li Ji again observed in silence, making no comment. For most, serving as the Chief Presenter at the grand Fengshan ceremony atop Mount Tai would be the honor of a lifetime, a coveted role. But for Li Ji, it was another matter entirely. If the imperial edict arrived, he might have hesitated, weighing whether to accept such prominence—but if Li Xian showed up at his house, Li Ji would certainly memorialize the court to decline the position.

The reason was simple. If Li Hong truly wished to congratulate Li Ji on being appointed Chief Presenter, he would have visited the Duke’s residence himself or at least sent a personal letter of congratulations. Sending Li Xian as a messenger instead was a clear sign that Li Hong disapproved of Li Ji’s appointment. Considering Li Hong was the heir apparent—the future emperor—how could a cautious man like Li Ji possibly go against his wishes? Declining via memorial was inevitable, thus enabling Li Hong to achieve his aim, while Li Xian was made use of, forced into playing the “villain” for nothing. How could Li Xian not be furious at this?

He’d been careless, truly careless! Annoyed with himself, Li Xian fell into reflection, realizing how smoothly things had gone for him lately—so much so that he’d nearly lost his sense of vigilance. After all, neither Li Hong nor Li Xian was to be underestimated; one moment’s inattention and either could be outmaneuvered by the other. This errand was minor enough—the worst that could happen would be some private grumbling among the Duke’s family, which was no big deal. But if this lack of caution continued, the consequences could be dire. At this thought, cold sweat streamed down Li Xian’s forehead.

Annoyed as he was, Li Xian could not avoid his duty. However reluctant, he still had to visit the Duke of England’s residence, unwilling to offend Li Hong over the matter. Resigned to being scolded, he braved the scorching sun and made his way to the Duke’s home at Xiama Ridge. Once there, he sent his calling card ahead, and soon a strapping young man strode out through the gates. At a glance, Li Xian recognized him—it was none other than Li Ji’s eldest grandson, Li Jingye.

Li Ji’s life was filled with glory and military conquest, amassing a vast estate. Yet when it came to heirs, he was sorely lacking; it wasn’t until nearly forty that he had a son, Li Zhen, whom he cherished beyond measure. Sadly, Li Zhen died young, in his early twenties, but left behind two sons, ensuring the family line continued. The elder was Li Jingye, now nineteen, and the younger, Li Jingyou, eighteen; both were already married. Fearing the end of his lineage, old Li Ji had married both brothers to a slew of concubines, so that by the age of twenty, each already had four sons of their own—a topic of much good-natured gossip in the capital.

“Your Highness, Prince Zhou, forgive me for not welcoming you sooner,” Li Jingye called out, striding to the steps at the entrance. Pausing, he glanced around a bit self-consciously before stepping up to greet Li Xian, bowing and offering formal salutations—but not stating his own name, his tone tinged with pride.

Ha, this rascal really puts on airs—a real show-off! Though Li Xian in this life had never met Li Jingye, in his previous life he’d crossed paths with him many times, nearly losing his own life thanks to him. His impression couldn’t be worse. Li Jingye was the same as Xu Jingye—after Li Xian’s first deposition, Li Jingye raised troops in Yangzhou under the banner of restoring Li Xian, but in truth, he had ambitions to supplant the Tang. Unfortunately, he was brave but foolish, proud but inept, and his uprising was swiftly crushed by Empress Wu’s forces. He died in defeat, and nearly dragged Li Xian down with him. If Li Xian hadn’t acted quickly, submitting a memorial to distance himself from Li Jingye before the latter’s defeat, and if the officials hadn’t pleaded on his behalf, he would surely have fallen victim to Empress Wu’s wrath.

“Brother Shunning, you are too polite. My visit was sudden, and I fear I’ve disturbed you. Please forgive the interruption,” Li Xian replied, masking his dislike behind a gentle demeanor, politely returning Li Jingye’s bow.

“Your Highness has met me before?” Li Jingye was taken aback to hear his courtesy name used so naturally, blurting out the question. He was certain he’d had no dealings with Li Xian before.

“Not exactly,” Li Xian replied, “but I have long admired the general’s reputation. Seeing you today, I find you even more impressive. Who in the Duke’s household, apart from Brother Shunning, could carry himself so? The Duke has worthy successors—what a blessing for the court!” Though Li Jingye’s question was rather impolite, Li Xian didn’t show any displeasure. On the contrary, he seized the chance to lavish praise on Li Jingye.

“I dare not, Your Highness flatters me. I am truly unworthy,” Li Jingye replied, his vanity obviously gratified, even as he protested modestly, his beaming face betraying his pride.

“Brother Shunning, you are too modest,” Li Xian laughed. “My visit today is at the behest of my elder brother, the Crown Prince, to pay respects to the Duke. May I trouble you to introduce me?”

“Well…” Li Jingye hesitated. He had been instructed by his grandfather to deflect if possible, which was why he’d put on an air of indifference when greeting Li Xian. Now, flattered as he was, he found it hard to refuse, yet still remembered his grandfather’s instructions, and was momentarily at a loss for words.

“Brother Shunning, I have come bearing most excellent news for the Duke. Won’t you be so kind as to help me deliver it?” Li Xian, sharp as ever, immediately guessed his thoughts from his awkward expression and pressed the matter with a look of earnest sincerity.

“Oh, if that’s so, please, Your Highness, come inside,” Li Jingye finally relented, unable to turn away someone so friendly, stepping aside with a gesture to enter.

“After you, Brother Shunning,” Li Xian said cheerfully, returning the gesture before striding toward the gate. Li Jingye hurried to follow half a step behind.

“Your Highness, may I ask about the excellent news you mentioned…?” The question tumbled out of Li Jingye’s mouth as soon as they had walked a few paces; he was too young and impulsive to hold back his curiosity, regardless of propriety.

Tsk, tsk—so little self-control, no wonder he failed so completely despite leading tens of thousands in his past life! Li Xian privately despised Li Jingye’s lack of depth, but outwardly he smiled brightly, eyes narrowed. “Brother Shunning, have you heard of His Majesty’s upcoming Fengshan ceremony at Mount Tai?”

“Yes, I’ve heard… but…” Li Jingye, though not especially talented, was not a fool. When Li Xian mentioned the ceremony, he immediately guessed what was coming, his excitement barely contained as he stared eagerly at Li Xian.

“That is precisely the purpose of my visit. Congratulations to the Duke! His Majesty has already decreed that the Duke is to serve as Chief Presenter,” Li Xian said, giving Li Jingye a meaningful look.

“Truly? Is it really so?” Li Jingye beamed with delight, as if gold had fallen from the sky, unable to contain his joy.

A good thing? Ha, only you would think so—your grandfather will surely not see it that way. Knowing Li Jingye to be a simpleton, Li Xian had no intention of explaining the complexities. He laughed and said, “The decree has already reached the Eastern Palace—how could it be false? Do you doubt my word, Brother Shunning?”

“Of course not, Your Highness. How could I not believe you after such words? Please, Your Highness—my grandfather is waiting in the inner hall,” Li Jingye replied, clenching a fist in excitement, unable to hide his pride. Had Li Xian not been present, he would have burst into raucous laughter.

A dullard is a dullard, a man with no head for strategy! Li Xian’s already poor impression of Li Jingye worsened at his shallow display, though he did not show his distaste, merely smiling as he accompanied Li Jingye into the inner hall…