Outside the back door of the Taiji Palace, thunder and lightning grew sparse against the gray-black sky. The gentle sound of rain fell steadily on the verdant treetops beyond the door, its rhythm constant and meaningful.
Father and emperor stood facing each other against this gray curtain. Backlit against the sky, their expressions were indiscernible—just two tall, slender silhouettes in plain clothes, motionless. Their shapes were quite similar, with Li Chengqian being slightly shorter than his father, or perhaps just bowing a bit lower.
The Emperor turned his head, first glancing toward the west where faint commotion could be heard, then looked down at the ornament in his hand, his tone tinged with melancholy and reminiscence:
“Around the fifth year of the Daye era of the former Sui dynasty, the Grand Emperor served as the Prefecture Chief of Zhengzhou, stationed in the Xingyang region. During a similar heavy rainfall, several rivers flooded, and naturally, your grandfather devoted himself to flood relief, earning deep gratitude and affection from the local people. Someone presented this ring to your grandfather, saying they had found it washed out from several ancient tombs destroyed by the flood. Your grandfather and his scholarly companions studied it and believed it to be a ceremonial device from the Yin-Shang royal tombs, used for archery in ancient times. It happened that your eldest uncle was approaching his twentieth year, and the local traditionalist scholars were clamoring to hold his coming-of-age ceremony. This item would be perfect for the occasion. The Grand Emperor saw it as an auspicious sign and brought it home to discuss with your grandmother. As it happened, I was there…”
The Emperor gave a bitter smile:
“I was ten years old then, just learning archery, and tremendously excited about it. I was already terribly spoiled by my parents and siblings. Hearing how ancient and magical this jade archer’s ring was, I naturally threw a tantrum demanding it. Your grandparents needed it for a formal ceremony—how could they let a child play with it? I made such a fuss that I angered my mother, who grabbed a horsewhip and gave me a thrashing… It wasn’t that severe, but I felt wronged and sulked, refusing to get out of bed for several days.”
Wei Shubin, hiding behind a pillared curtain, almost laughed out loud, hearing Li Chengqian also cough several times, seemingly trying hard to suppress his laughter.
“During those days, everyone was busy preparing for your eldest uncle’s coming-of-age ceremony, and no one paid attention to me. In the evening after everything was done, your eldest uncle came to check on me, but I was still sulking and wouldn’t give him a pleasant face. Your eldest uncle, now officially an adult, wouldn’t stoop to quarreling with a ten-year-old. He coaxed and persuaded me, and finally secretly gave me the jade ring, telling me not to let our parents know and to play with it as I wished… That’s how we brothers reconciled. I played with it for a few days, then lost track of which box I put it in, completely forgetting about it. It wasn’t until that year in Hedong, after completing the mourning period for your grandmother, that your mother found it while going through clothes…”
The Emperor sighed softly, not continuing further. Wei Shubin recalled words that Chai Yinglu had quoted from Empress Zhangsun, knowing that the jade ring had then passed into the hands of the shy teenage Li family bride, witnessing the romantic moments of her youth with her husband. Later, when the young Princess Qin heard of her husband’s rare moment of closeness with their son, she found this ancient archery ceremonial device and gave it to her eldest son as encouragement… Surely she didn’t know then that this jade ring originally belonged to eldest brother Li Jiancheng, otherwise, given the discord between the brothers at the time, she wouldn’t have risked offending.
And after that? To whom did Li Chengqian ultimately give this jade ring that his mother had solemnly bestowed upon him? Why did this item appear among Li Wanxi’s dowry after her death?
“Your eldest uncle was not naturally cold-hearted or cruel. Even in the first few years after the founding of the Great Tang, we brothers were still quite close.” The Emperor sighed as he handed the silk package back to his son. “That thing later reached such a state—even now when I think of it, my heart aches. The fate of an imperial family is destined to be thus; the thought makes one shudder without even feeling the cold, ah…”
Li Chengqian accepted the jade ring and bowed his head in acknowledgment, still unwilling to say much. His father emerged from his reverie and continued: “These days as I keep vigil at the memorial hall, exhausted from mourning, I’ve had time to think properly about past events. Your grandfather has now passed; whatever grievances there were have dissipated. I just wonder if there was any way, your grandfather should have done, to properly settle all of us brothers? Could we have maintained filial piety and brotherly harmony throughout our lives? It seems simple at first mention, just as I desperately wished back then—wouldn’t that have been enough? But reflecting on it today, it wasn’t that simple.”
Your Majesty’s desperate wish back then was to depose your elder brother from his position as Crown Prince and establish yourself as the legitimate heir to the throne, wasn’t it? Wei Shubin thought silently. Demote Jiancheng to Prince of Shu, and exile him to Yizhou where the people were honest and the soldiers weak, so even if he wasn’t content and tried to raise an army to reclaim the throne, you wouldn’t fear defeating him… According to the elders’ stories, this arrangement had come close to succeeding several times.
“The Great Tang empire was established by my determination. I became arrogant in my achievements, believing I had won the hearts of all under heaven, that heaven’s mandate was with me, and that the emperor’s failure to carry out deposement and establishment was showing unfair favoritism.” The Emperor spoke slowly. “Whether this notion was reasonable, let’s set aside for now, leaving it for future generations to judge. Do you know what makes me shudder now when I think about it? That no matter how desperate and tormented I was, I didn’t dare speak in front of your grandfather—what I wanted, what I wished to do, even though we were father and son, I couldn’t open up to your grandfather, and he wouldn’t confide in me either. It wasn’t like this before…”
Another thunderclap sounded outside the hall, though not very loud, showing the weakening tendency of the downpour. The Emperor turned to look at the rain-soaked sky and trees, his posture melancholic:
“In my reckless youth, I was similarly arrogant in my favored position. I would say whatever came to mind in front of my father and brothers, and when things didn’t go my way, I would throw huge tantrums and stubbornly persist. It was so when pursuing and retrieving the retreating army at Huyi, when saving Li Yaoshi at the execution ground, and when firmly refusing to return to the capital outside Luoyang. We fathers, brothers, and sons would quarrel until everything was in chaos, almost drawing swords against each other—but none of that mattered, it wasn’t important at all. After the arguments and discussions, the anger would be forgotten, we’d go out to handle our respective duties, working together in perfect harmony… But after the empire was pacified, it wasn’t like that anymore. Father became the sovereign of nine provinces, his every word-final and his authority like thunder, while we brothers each gained high positions and power, becoming particular about our conduct. When meeting, we’d exchange pleasantries and speak empty words without sincerity, appearing harmonious… but our hearts grew distant.”
But isn’t this exactly the “self-restraint and return to propriety” promoted by Confucian sages? Wei Shubin wondered. Those of official rank and above, fathers and sons living in separate palaces, meeting at dawn for court, showing care through imperial edicts, departing at sunrise to attend to their duties. The strictness between father and son should not allow for casualness; the love between flesh and blood should not permit carelessness… Could there be something wrong with these rules and principles that had been taught to her and her siblings by their parents since childhood?
“After the fifth year of Wude, I realized that I’d rather confide in your uncle, in Xuanling, Ruhui, Junji, and Jingde. Why? With your grandfather, even if I kept my mouth shut and tied my tongue in knots, he would somehow believe slander from some lowly person in the back palace and find some reason to lecture me—why bring trouble upon myself? Your eldest uncle was even worse; attending a feast and having a drink could result in vomiting blood all night… At that time, I only felt they were all trying to harm me, living in constant fear. Thinking about it now, perhaps they did intend to harm me, but more importantly, they were… afraid of me.”
Li Chengqian raised his head to look at his father, and the Emperor turned to look at his son as well. Father and son finally faced each other directly for a moment, before both turned their faces away again.
The Crown Prince continued to bow his head and listen to the instruction, while his father’s tone grew increasingly somber:
“When fathers, sons, and brothers each have their power and authority, their troops and generals, all capable of causing great upheaval, no one trusts anyone, and everyone guards against everyone else. Why wouldn’t the Grand Emperor agree to deposition and establishment? With me in the position of a prince, my prestige already rivaled that of the emperor; if I took one step further into the Eastern Palace, who in the world could still control me? Now that I have been emperor for nine years, I understand how difficult it is to maintain imperial power, treading carefully as if on thin ice. Back then, your grandfather faced both internal and external troubles, his situation even more difficult than mine. In the ninth year of Wude, when he abdicated and passed the throne, declaring his contentment to withdraw from state affairs and focus on enjoying his twilight years, many didn’t believe him. I know at least part of his intention was genuine, whether others believe it or not.”
Only after the old man passed away did this disobedient son finally speak a few words of understanding for his father, and even then he couldn’t help but justify himself… Wei Shubin couldn’t help but silently purse her lips on behalf of the Grand Emperor.