Although no one spoke of it openly, everyone in Youzhou vaguely sensed that a great war was approaching.
The Son of Heaven in Chang’an commanded one hundred fifty thousand Divine Strategy Army troops—the central imperial guards protecting the capital region. His exiled son Prince Shao Li Yuanying commanded one hundred thousand troops at the border, plus the ten thousand Jade Comb Army soldiers the princess had brought. Together, they already possessed the strength for a frontal battlefield confrontation.
Of course, there were still some insurmountable ethical obstacles: filial piety was the foundation of the state, the universal standard of propriety, righteousness, integrity and shame. For a son to openly clash militarily with his father was the height of treachery and rebellion. Even if the son won by luck, no respectable subject in the realm would support such a rebellious child.
Another possibility was that the emperor, advanced in years and lacking the strength to deal with this distant son at the frontier, would turn a blind eye. However, regardless of who inherited the throne in the future, none would tolerate this brother maintaining troops for personal power. Should the court mobilize forces, Prince Shao could hardly sit idle awaiting death.
The two sides were destined for battle.
Youzhou Military Supervisor Ruan Ziming decided to bet on Prince Shao. After all, stationed in Youzhou, he had no other imperial prince to choose. Having personally witnessed Li Yuanying turning the tide to defeat former Military Governor Liu Kun and conquer Youzhou, while Princess Wangshou Li Baozhu miraculously returned from the dead leading large cavalry forces to join her brother, Ruan Ziming couldn’t help but believe Heaven’s mandate favored this pair of beautiful siblings.
As a high-ranking military supervisor eunuch, Ruan Ziming had his own channels for communicating with the central eunuch system. Combined with Youzhou’s reporting office stationed in Chang’an, secret envoys now galloped between Chang’an and Youzhou more frequently than in any previous period.
At the start of spring, the northern frontier remained bitterly cold, but according to the seasonal calendar, the new year’s spring had arrived. As the highest local administrative official, Prince Shao led his sister and various officials to the eastern suburbs to hold the spring welcoming ceremony, praying for favorable weather and abundant harvests in the new year.
After the sacrificial ritual ended, Li Yuanying mentioned a special local scenic spot he wanted Bao Zhu to see.
They rode in a horse carriage to the northern suburbs. Bao Zhu was puzzled—after her brother’s ordeal, his physical strength had declined, and except for sacrificial activities he was required to attend, he had never gone out for pleasure. Moreover, with the harsh spring cold and vegetation not yet budding, what scenery could there be to view?
The ceremonial procession escorted the carriage and soon reached their destination. When the carriage door opened, Li Yuanying sat inside cradling a hand warmer, showing no intention of alighting.
Bao Zhu followed his gaze and looked outside the carriage. About a hundred paces away stood a temple. Though not large in scale, worshippers came and went continuously—it appeared to have flourishing incense offerings.
Looking more closely, she saw the golden plaque above the temple read: Shrine of the Two Saints.
“Who does this shrine worship?” Bao Zhu asked.
“Guess.”
“Those called saints in the mortal world, besides the Son of Heaven, would be the ancient sage Confucius and sub-sage Mencius. Is it a temple worshipping Confucius and Mencius?”
Li Yuanying shook his head.
“Could it be the poetry saint Du Zimei or calligraphy saint Wang Xizhi?”
Li Yuanying shook his head again.
“Then it surely can’t be the painting saint or medical saint… Ah, just tell me quickly. My mind is in chaos—I have no heart for sightseeing or playing guessing games.” Bao Zhu hadn’t emerged from her grief, her tone carrying irritation.
Li Yuanying said slowly: “That’s a shrine worshipping An Lushan and Shi Siming.”
“Wha… what?!”
The Tianbao Rebellion, when Generals An and Shi betrayed Tang—this catastrophe that swept the nation caused the prosperous Tang to decline from that point forward. Youzhou was precisely where they made their rise, the place from which rebel forces marched south.
Bao Zhu’s expression changed dramatically, her face filled with fury. “Someone actually built a shrine for those two damned barbarian traitors and dares openly worship them? Are all these worshippers rebels?!”
“Just ordinary nearby villagers and soldiers praying for safety,” Li Yuanying said.
After pondering briefly, Bao Zhu said: “I understand—it’s folk worship like sacrificing to plague demons. Send someone to tear it down immediately. Transform customs to serve as warning to others.”
Li Yuanying said matter-of-factly: “I already tore it down once. This is what they rebuilt with collected funds. Destroying it again might provoke popular resentment and military mutiny.”
Bao Zhu was utterly bewildered and indignantly upset: “Why commemorate them? The Tang Dynasty’s fortune was shattered by these two nation-destroying, people-harming traitors!”
“Because when they governed here, they encouraged agriculture and sericulture, and with their powerful military might, they thoroughly subdued surrounding barbarian tribes, who dared not invade. For the Central Plains, the An-Shi Rebellion caused people to lose their livelihood, leaving nine of ten households empty. But the wealth plundered by rebel forces was all transported back to the Youzhou stronghold by soldiers. Two generations have passed, yet descendants still can’t forget those prosperous, abundant days. They sincerely miss those two barbarians, built shrines for them, honoring them as the Two Saints.
A hundred years ago, Di Renjie once governed in Weizhou—upright and honest, deeply beloved by the people, who built a living shrine for him. Later his son Di Jinghui also served in Weizhou but was greedy and cruel, imposing harsh taxes. So the people went and smashed his father’s shrine. Common folk are practical—they don’t care what the person on the throne is surnamed, whether Han or barbarian. Anyone who lets them eat their fill, dress warmly, and have surplus grain is a saint.”
Listening to her brother’s gentle explanation, Bao Zhu gazed at that shrine with unending incense offerings, recalling the collapsed Four Heroes Temple. Her heart churned like overturning seas, seething.
Was Heaven’s Way fair? How should justice be judged?
The people’s faith was both sincere and extremely utilitarian. The gallant Four Heroes were forgotten while the rebels who brought chaos to the realm enjoyed incense offerings. The Hebei military governors had many conflicts with the Central Plains, while the Central Plains relied on extracting grain taxes from the south to maintain rule—every region had conflicting interests. Popular support followed only results.
Li Yuanying said: “Although Ruan Ziming and the reporting office control intelligence, news of my replacing Liu Kun and that you’re still alive will eventually reach Chang’an. Our current situation closely resembles that of An and Shi—same stronghold, similar troop strength. Should we raise forces here, even the route into Guanzhong would be identical. The question is: do we really want to retread the path that tore the nation apart, making people suffer war’s misery again?”
“No!” Bao Zhu answered without hesitation. “I want to be remembered favorably in history, not become this kind of eternally reviled ‘saint.'”
Li Yuanying nodded: “Truly blood-related—we see eye to eye. To minimize casualties, there’s only one more dangerous path—following ancestral precedent, deciding victory at Xuanwu Gate.”
Bao Zhu sighed mournfully and complained: “I endured countless hardships to reach Youzhou and join you. After staying such a short time, I must return to Chang’an the same way. What was the point of this exhausting journey across thousands of miles?”
Li Yuanying said solemnly: “You once swore to heaven that regardless of what game it was, you’d give your all to help me. In this world, nothing requires more assistance than the game of political coups and rebellion.”
Bao Zhu recalled the past but had no memory of this, asking with complete puzzlement: “When did I ever say such a thing?”
“When you were five years old, on the thirteenth of the ninth month, I carried you back to Penglai Hall. You personally promised to give me all the oaths in the world.” Li Yuanying recited all the details of that moment without hesitation.
Bao Zhu knew her brother had perfect recall, but using her childhood jest as evidence was too much. She was so angry she was speechless.
“Words spoken at five years old count too? Are you being reasonable?!”
“I don’t care. An oath is an oath. You must honor your promise and not go back on your word.”
Li Yuanying said sternly: “To avenge mother, to seek justice for that ghost trapped and wandering in the palace, we must return. Bao Zhu, my body is already broken. Without your assistance, great deeds cannot be accomplished.”
Bao Zhu knew in her heart that the bone-deep hatred for their mother’s murder could never be released. No matter how dangerous the path ahead, the siblings had to return to settle this blood debt.
Her mind made up, she negotiated seriously without smiling: “Close siblings settle accounts clearly. This is a life-risking enterprise—what compensation do you promise me? I plan to become a nun in future, without a prince consort. If you want to crown some gatekeeper boy with my achievements, don’t expect my help.”
“Outsiders remain outsiders. I arranged them hoping to distract you from crying all day long. Childbearing risks are unpredictable—even if you become a nun, you must be careful about contraception.”
Li Yuanying drew from his chest a jade comb of warm texture and handed it to Bao Zhu, making his promise:
“You and I shall share the realm. These ‘Two Saints’ won’t be folk worship but court peers, ancestral temple sacrifices, forever recorded in history.”
Bao Zhu accepted it—her jade comb that served as a commander’s seal, engraved with longevity characters. The broken corner from her earlier accident had been repaired with gold.
Knowing a bloody battle was inevitable, she still couldn’t help but complain: “Brother, you still have the nerve to scold Qi Lang for gambling. Whether military coup or political revolution—lose and face poisoned wine, white silk, and decapitation; win and bear the guilt of forcing the palace, rising before dawn daily for court. Gambling with lives, national fortune, the entire realm—you’re the world’s most insane gambler.”
Li Yuanying was slightly stunned at these words, then after a moment broke into a smile. In an instant, spring sun melted snow, radiant light danced, captivating the soul.
“Indeed, I gamble far more fiercely than she does.”
Author’s Note: New Tang History – Biography of Zhang Hongdao: “Hebei veteran generals and soldiers shared hardships equally… locals called Lushan and Siming the ‘Two Saints,’ so they dug up graves and destroyed coffins, causing much displeasure among the masses.”
This record is from 820 CE, sixty years after the An-Shi Rebellion, yet the people of the prefecture still worshipped the two barbarians An and Shi. Whether due to conflicts of interest with the Central Plains or frontier customs influenced by barbarian culture, Youzhou’s ideology had become vastly different from the central dynasty.
Reporting Office: Roughly equivalent to each military governor’s “Beijing representative office” in Chang’an.