When Li Yuangui openly mocked him about “fatherly love for daughters,” Wei Zheng’s expression changed, and after a moment’s pause, his face became as cold as water:
“When a daughter is born, she plays with potsherds, causing no trouble, leaving no burden for her parents. Since ancient times, sages have taught daughters propriety, hoping they would be virtuous and serene, supporting their husbands teaching their children, and managing their households well. The King of Gaochang’s selfish love causing enmity with a great nation is utterly inappropriate and should serve as a warning to parents throughout the realm.”
“Between father and son, there is natural closeness, virtue is nurtured through kindness; illustrious are the teachers and leaders, the people all look to them as examples,” Li Yuangui strenuously quoted more classics, implying that as a father one should raise children with love, and as a high official, one should set an example for all under heaven, and it’s best to avoid things like selling daughters for profit or buying daughters-in-law. “The King of Gaochang’s affection for his daughter stems from natural human feelings, not worthy of deep censure. I have been unfilial, bringing misfortune upon my parents, leaving only my young sister in this world. My various misdeeds arose from this, as you all know well.”
The assembled ministers, having participated in handling and reviewing his case, must have read the files and known he had committed his crimes to save his sister of the same mother. Confucianism teaches the principle of loving one’s relatives, extending from oneself to others, beginning with love for family and ending in loyalty to the ruler—this point was beyond reproach.
“Though I am young and ignorant, dull by nature, I understand that Heaven’s way is fair, and those in high positions should show compassion to orphans and protect the weak, acting with chivalry and righteousness, not using their power to bully others or accumulate wealth through force,” Li Yuangui finally dared to look directly into Wei Zheng’s eyes, and the latter turned away. “I was raised in the imperial palace, holding the position of a prince, serving the sage ruler as both subject and brother, and serving as a regional guardian to the common people. After great chaos, the people’s lives are withered, the masses face many hardships, and urgently need us to nurture them with kindness and righteousness, just as we would care for orphans. Since I refused to stand idle while my young sister was harmed, how could I actively provoke war and afflict the people? Lord Wei worries too much.”
Starting with his Seventeenth Sister, he was suddenly inspired and mentioned the tragic life story of the foreign courtesan Fen Dui whom he had sheltered, the shortage of male labor for farming that he had heard about from Manager Zhang at his estate north of the Wei River in Xianyang, and even the ferry worker couple’s story of Fushou on the Wei River came to mind. As he related these examples, his sincerity was evident and his words came from the heart. He saw that Wei Zheng, Sun Fuguo, and others’ expressions had softened considerably—far more effective than his dry recitation of ancient texts.
Especially Imperial Advisor Wei… well, Li Yuangui somewhat guiltily admitted that he had taken advantage of the conversation between ruler and minister that he had overheard in the small hall after his failed suicide attempt, knowing that Wei Zheng had recently been discussing the cases of Manager Zhang and Fushou and Fuzu. Having experienced these matters personally, speaking about them publicly was like providing testimony for Imperial Advisor Wei, proving that he wasn’t making things up but had broad public support—wouldn’t this also bring glory to Wei’s position as Prime Minister?
“The Prince of Wu deeply understands righteousness, which greatly comforts me,” Wei Zheng finally praised him. “However, what Your Highness just proposed about going against the King of Gaochang’s wishes and bringing his daughter back to Tang is true. You acknowledge you’d be provoking conflict between the two countries, yet say you’re unwilling to mobilize troops for war. How do you explain this? What miraculous strategy does Your Highness have to achieve both goals?”
Li Yuangui smiled confidently at first, then suddenly remembered he was a filial son in mourning and shouldn’t show joy, quickly composing his expression:
“Lord Wei mentioned Fu Jiezi, who displayed his prowess by slaying the King of Loulan at night, but that didn’t lead to Han troops fighting beyond the frontier. I would rather emulate Ban Chao of the Later Han, who crossed the Onion Range to Xiandu, spent twenty-two years traveling, and had more than fifty states of the Western Regions submit to him, replacing their kings while pacifying their people, gaining the friendship of distant barbarians and uniting people of different customs, without moving China’s forces or troubling our warriors, delivering Heaven’s punishment and wiping away old shame! Venturing into the tiger’s den, he burned and killed thirty-six barbarian envoys—controlling the enemy was enough, why needlessly waste Chinese resources and trouble the military bureaus with conscription? I hereby swear that after passing Yang Gate, I will not request a single soldier or grain of support from our Great Tang. If I break this oath, may this staff bear witness!”
Caught up in the moment, he raised his bamboo staff and broke it across his knee with a crack. Everyone in the hall stood up from their seats, their faces showing solemnity.
Crown Prince Li Chengqian arranged for Li Yuangui to meet privately with his Seventeenth Sister of the same mother after the fifth seven-day mourning period for the Emperor Emeritus. During this month-plus period, the siblings had been quite close, both keeping vigil in the Taiji Hall, their crying faintly audible to each other. However, Li Yuangui had dutifully remained with his brothers behind the Emperor in the eastern chamber of mourning grass, while the noble ladies, royal consorts, and princesses, led by Empress Zhangsun, observed mourning rites behind curtains in the western chamber. In the Great Tang’s first major funeral since its founding, the ceremonial regulations were not entirely complete, and men and women occasionally encountered each other when entering and leaving. Li Yuangui had met his sister several times but had no chance to speak privately.
Even this meeting arranged by the Crown Prince seemed rushed. Li Yuangui arrived first at the small hall where he had been moved after his failed suicide attempt, knowing only that his Seventeenth Sister would be brought in by Empress Zhangsun herself. He hadn’t expected to hear the footsteps of a large group of people in the corridor outside, along with faint exclamations of surprise.
Worried something had happened to his sister, he quickly went to the door to see what was going on, only to find a group of women in hemp mourning dresses in the corridor, including the Empress and the Seventeenth Princess, gathered around a woman in mourning clothes who had half-fainted—it was actually Chai Yaoli.
Seeing Chai Yaoli also in a hemp mourning dress observing the mourning with the Empress and others, Li Yuangui was first stunned. Although she was the Emperor Emeritus’s granddaughter through his daughter, it wasn’t inappropriate for her to observe mourning for her grandfather, but she was, after all, a Daoist priestess who had already received her ordination certificate, and shouldn’t have been following secular mourning customs—she hadn’t publicly observed mourning at her brother’s wife Princess Linfen’s funeral at their family home. Had she now “temporarily returned to secular life for three days” to be the Emperor Emeritus’s granddaughter again…? Moreover, she had always been healthy—how had she suddenly fallen ill?
The woman in mourning clothes supporting Chai Yaoli looked familiar. While massaging Chai Yaoli’s philtrum, she was explaining to the Empress:
“…She said yesterday she wasn’t feeling well, getting dizzy while kneeling, and hasn’t eaten or drunk all day. I urged her to take leave and rest, but she refused, saying the Empress’s health was more important…”
“Ah, this child, really,” Empress Zhangsun frowned deeply. “Even if she wants to push herself, this isn’t the time. There are so many imperial physicians taking turns on duty outside—do I lack someone to attend to my medicine? Ah Pei, take her back to Zixu Temple. Get a steady carriage, let her lie down properly, take people with you to settle her in, and whatever she needs, just ask for it…”
Hearing the Empress call “Ah Pei,” Li Yuangui suddenly realized the woman supporting Chai Yaoli was the newly invested Princess of Zhao, Minister Pei’s younger sister, his Sixth Sister-in-law. Previously they had avoided each other out of propriety and hadn’t met much, and after changing into mourning clothes, she was even harder to recognize. It seemed the Princess of Zhao was quite close with Chai Yaoli. Hearing the Empress’s instructions, she quickly agreed and helped support Chai Yaoli with several palace maids.
A breeze blew through the corridor, bringing a slight chill. It was an overcast day, with thick clouds slowly rolling in from the west, suggesting it might rain. After the group of women had caused a commotion for a while, they moved on. Li Yuangui, not wanting to interfere by showing himself, quickly retreated into the small hall to wait.
Empress Zhangsun brought only two serving maids and the Seventeenth Princess into the room, where they exchanged greetings and were granted seats. Li Yuangui, being concerned about Chai Yaoli, asked about what had just happened before anything else. The Empress sighed:
“It’s all because of my illness causing trouble, and I don’t know how many more people will be affected before it’s over. Fourteenth Brother, you know that the hardships of mourning are proper, but everyone in the palace is worried about my condition. That day when the news of Emperor Emeritus’s death reached Lizheng Hall, I fainted and couldn’t get up. Fortunately, Chengqian was present—while directing everyone to change into mourning clothes and notify the Ministry of Rites, he didn’t forget to immediately send orders to bring Medicine King Sun Zhenren from Daan Palace to Lizheng Hall to examine me. Through acupuncture and medicine, he restored my consciousness. Later, when His Majesty returned to the palace, he greatly praised Chengqian’s response and ordered Medicine King Sun to remain at Lizheng Hall to attend to me. Ah, this is truly causing trouble…”
“Causing trouble?” Li Yuangui didn’t understand. “Sun Zhenren gets to apply his skills, and Your Highness gets the aid of a divine physician—isn’t this a good thing?” There was something he didn’t say out loud—when an Emperor Emeritus passed away, there was precedent for the succeeding emperor to take out his anger on the physicians. The Crown Prince having Sun Simiao transfer to Lizheng Hall to treat the Empress also saved him from possibly suffering this misfortune. How could this measure be considered “causing trouble”?