A lone lamp flickered like a bean, its dim yellow light illuminating the brush holder, inkstone, dried ink residue, water container, and papers—both blank and filled with written statements—on the writing desk.
Li Yuanji sat cross-legged before the desk, brush in his right hand, while the scroll in his left remained motionless. The three characters “Palace Servant Wei” had been written without much thought, but the next character refused to flow from his brush.
The next character was merely “Shi”—a few simple strokes of dots and crosses. But what would come after completing this character? Palace Servant Wei Shi, the eldest daughter of Minister Wei Zheng, a brave and innocent young woman, had been inexplicably drawn deep into this calamity by him. How should he write, how should he present his statement, to minimize her culpability and allow her to return to the carefree, fortunate life she deserved as a Prime Minister’s daughter?
Li Yuanji let out a silent, long sigh as his brush tip-dried. He set down the brush and paper, rubbing his face vigorously from forehead to chin to clear his mind.
I don’t want this. I can’t accept this.
That night, when he and Yang Xinzhi were captured outside Zixu Temple by Cheng Yaojin and his men, they were brought directly here and imprisoned separately. In the dark of night, he only knew he had been taken up onto the city wall, confined in a tower room. When he looked out the window after sunrise the next day, he was shocked.
He had been detained in the Xuanwu Gate tower.
Xuanwu Gate, the northern gate of the palace city, faced the imperial palace to the south and controlled the western gardens extending to the Wei River—a crucial defensive position in the capital’s outer perimeter. This was also the headquarters of the “Northern Gate Guard,” corresponding to the Sixteen Guards of the Southern Command. Since the Zhenguan era, the emperor had increasingly favored the Northern Army. While most garrison troops were stationed in the forbidden garden barracks, the officers conducted military affairs at Xuanwu Gate. The direct chambers of northern army commanders like Cheng Yaojin were also located in the Xuanwu Gate tower, allowing for rapid response in emergencies.
Li Yuanji realized he had been confined in one such direct chamber. The room was small with modest furnishings, but it was clean and warm. The small couch had thick bedding, the writing desk was equipped with paper, inkstone, and an oil lamp, and meals were delivered in food boxes three times daily. Most of his requests were granted, though no one dared engage him in casual conversation.
The chamber’s door opened to the north wall, with a window in the south wall. Looking down through the latticed window, he saw a vast square surrounded by high walls, where armed guards patrolled day and night. Beyond the facing wall’s Chongxuan Gate to the south lay the inner palace, with its groves, fragrant grass, lakes and pools, and… the blood his three elder brothers had shed nine years ago.
On that first day of his confinement, Li Yuanji stood at the south window, gazing out for a long time. He seemed to see that morning of the fourth day of the sixth month nine years ago, when his second brother Prince Qin Shimin led a group of armored death squads, carrying bows and swords, riding quietly through the milky fog, entering Xuanwu Gate below, then galloping across the vast square outside his window. The guard soldiers on the city walls stood like stone statues, watching this band of treasonous rebels enter the palace armed, neither following nor raising alarm.
As the sun rose higher and the fog gradually dispersed, the sound of hoofbeats and laughter outside Xuanwu Gate grew louder. His Crown Prince Jiancheng and fourth brother Prince Qi Yuanji also arrived with their men, carrying bows and swords, entering proudly, their minds full of how to defend themselves before the emperor and clear the charges that Prince Qin had falsely accused them of adultery with Consorts Zhang and Yin, then turn the accusation of treason back on him.
Then the great treason began. Weapons clashed and blood sprayed inside and outside Xuanwu Gate. Second Brother Shimin shot an arrow through Jiancheng’s chest, and Fourth Brother Yuanji pressed Second Brother off his horse in the grove south of the wall, nearly strangling him before being beheaded by Yu Chi Jingde. That day, thousands of soldiers drummed and formed battle arrays within and without the palace gate, arrows flew like rain, blood pooled like lakes, and traces can still be seen today on the rammed earth walls and brick-faced gates.
Compared to that day’s fratricidal spectacle, my reckless actions in Da’an Hall were mere child’s play, Li Yuanji smiled bitterly.
However, the victor of that day’s fratricidal conflict now sat in Taiji Hall ruling the empire. His small-scale murder and arson couldn’t escape the charge of colluding with foreign enemies to harm the emperor and father… Well, he hadn’t expected to escape it anyway.
On the way to his confinement, Cheng Yaojin chatted and laughed about many things, but there were only two main points: First, he was acting on imperial orders, so hoped Prince Wu would not take offense; Second, the emperor would not mistreat his young brother—just write a confession stating all causes and consequences of the matter, without need to avoid mentioning anyone involved. As long as he confessed truthfully, the sage ruler would show mercy.
The direct chamber was well-supplied with brush, ink, and paper, so he began writing. He had anticipated this day and discussed the general outline of testimony with Yang Xinzhi, Chai Yuluo, and Wei Shubin, but putting brush to paper made him hesitate. Mainly, how could he take all responsibility upon himself while extracting those three… especially those two women… particularly the most innocent Wei family daughter… from blame?
Yang Xinzhi was appointed by the emperor himself as treasurer of Prince Wu’s household, so following and protecting his lord was his duty. Moreover, he hadn’t entered Da’an Hall that night, his crimes weren’t too serious, and he had his father the Minister of the Secretariat protecting him in secret, so he didn’t need much consideration. Chai Yuluo had special status and had already obtained Empress Zhangsun’s protection, so she should also escape punishment. But the Wei family’s daughter…
His nose stung involuntarily as Li Yuanji pressed his fist to his eye socket, silently reciting:
I don’t want this. I can’t accept this.
That young lady, as an unmarried maiden, had defied her arranged marriage, confessed to murder, actively became entangled in palace intrigues, volunteered for a diplomatic marriage to a barbarian state, and survived several brushes with death amid flashing blades, disheveled and bloodied… All propriety and shame, all dignity and restraint, all the grand manner of a minister’s daughter had been cast to the nine heavens. Yet now, thinking of her delicate face and eyes filled him with sweet and sour feelings, joy and affection fermenting like sweet wine, filling his heart with fragrance.
Just closing his eyes, he could see her curled up on that crude, dark farmhouse kang bed, just singed by the stove fire, looking disheveled, yet her ink-black eyes were still clear and bright without a trace of impurity. She looked at him boldly, shy and awkward in her expression, but without disgust or rejection, her parted lips soft and alluring, her breath intoxicating.
He hadn’t forgotten that not long ago, Wei Shubin had rejected his marriage proposal before everyone in Lizheng Hall. In the light snow, under her veiled hat, the young woman’s gentle but firm voice still echoed in his ears: “…better to be a walking corpse in the Cheng family…”
Even moments before that, he had told her “I have no right to marry you” and such things. But in that dark, stirring moment, none of that seemed to matter—birth and bloodline, promised futures, public opinion, and family honor all meant nothing. He simply rejoiced in her presence, while sensing her intimate attachment to him.
I want to be with her like that, for one life, for all time.
He understood his feelings, but this offered no help in writing his confession of crimes. Rationally, he couldn’t connect himself with Wei Shubin, not even the slightest bit. He racked his brains to downplay “Palace Servant Wei’s” actions, trying his utmost to minimize her appearance in the statement. Even when she had to appear, it was only as an assistant and pawn of Daoist Priestess Chai, young and ignorant, foolishly rash, manipulated by others, begging the sovereign to send her home for her parents to discipline strictly…
Then Minister Wei successfully sold his daughter to Cheng Yaojin, collected fifty thousand bolts of silk as a bride price, using it to obtain a wife from the empire’s foremost Boling Cui family for his eldest son, bringing glory to the ancestors and earning the admiration of the whole court? After weathering this storm, would Wei Shubin crush her fierce spirit and docilely become General Cheng’s second principal wife and duchess, managing his household? Or would she—
“…Wild geese take wing in autumn, as grass and trees turn yellow. The hermit shall leave this temporary lodging, returning forever to his true home…”
Pushing away from the paper, Li Yuanji pressed both hands on the desk, feeling his heart would burst from his chest, tears about to spill from his eyes.
I don’t want this. I absolutely cannot accept this.
He somewhat frantically gathered up the written statements, wondering if he could rewrite the whole story from the beginning, make revisions to find a better outcome for Wei Shubin, then remembered most of the completed statements had already been taken away—the servants who brought his three meals took any written papers from his desk without even asking. This was also General Cheng’s instruction, to prevent him from rewriting and making things up after completing his confession.
The lamp wick dimmed as dawn light appeared outside the window. Between sunrise and sunset, Li Yuanji drifted in a daze, only eating, sleeping, writing, and daydreaming, not knowing how long he had been confined in this cell. The meal servants wouldn’t speak with him, and his requests to see General Cheng or any officials in charge of his case went unanswered. Later, exhausted in body and spirit, he stopped speaking, eating, or moving, lying on the small couch staring at the ceiling, thinking it would be better to end things quickly with a blade than wait endlessly for death.
The north door creaked open, footsteps unlike the usual servant’s.
Li Yuanji propped himself up, recognized the visitor, and collapsed to his knees:
“Your Majesty.”