Fendu added that Miwei was worried about Kang Sumi’s treason being discovered and everyone is punished, especially her unborn child, and hoped Li Yuangui would advise Kang to be more careful—these were natural concerns. Li Yuangui vaguely agreed and told Fendu to keep the matter secret, not to tell anyone else. But before he could decide when and how to approach Kang Sumi, misfortune found him first.
It was Crown Prince Li Chengqian who came looking for him.
An Eastern Palace attendant delivered the message to the Prince of Wu’s mansion, saying “The Crown Prince awaits the Prince of Wu at the polo field behind Zixu Temple.” Li Yuangui vaguely recalled that he might indeed have had a polo appointment with Li Chengqian before. But they were still in the national mourning period for the Emperor Emeritus, their father and grandfather’s body still lay in state at Taiji Palace unburied—wouldn’t they be severely criticized for playing games at such a time?
So… they needed to be discreet about it. Plain clothes, leather belt, hemp rope, lacquered saddle, with the polo mallets wrapped in cloth bags, keeping everything low-key until they reached the field.
Under the early autumn sun, heat shimmered above the yellow earth field. Though high buildings and tall trees provide shade around the edges, the large open center could only bake in the sun. Li Chengqian had just had water sprinkled over it, with damp trails crisscrossing the dusty surface, but from Li Yuangui’s experience, this was useless—after one game, everyone would be rolling in mud.
Several guards were running horses and practicing hitting on the field, while the Crown Prince himself sat mounted, standing still at the edge idly swinging his mallet, his expression gloomy and joyless. Li Yuangui came forward to bow, and Li Chengqian, without much talk, waved for him to mount up. Uncle and nephew brought their heads close together, speaking in low voices amid the shouts and thundering hooves.
“The old plaque from the Literary Institute?” Li Yuangui was momentarily confused. “Your Highness, please forgive me, but I’ve only been back in the capital a few days and don’t know of this matter.”
Li Chengqian sighed: “Never mind. It’s not important. The Prince of Yue’s Literary Institute has been established by imperial decree—what does it matter if they’re using an old plaque from the Wude era? The important thing is that His Majesty favors him.”
Li Yuangui gathered his thoughts and roughly understood what he meant. The Emperor had ordered his fourth son, Prince Li Tai of Yue, to follow his example from the Wude era by recruiting renowned scholars into a “Literary Institute” to compile books. Li Yuangui knew of this—in fact, he had been present when it was first proposed, witnessing it firsthand. Li Chengqian and Chancellor Fang Xuanling, who were also present then, had both looked quite uncomfortable. Later he heard that Li Tai had indeed found a location and gathered resources to establish this new dynasty’s “Literary Institute,” naturally with his father the current Emperor’s support.
The Prince of Qin’s Literary Institute during the Wude era had attracted “Eighteen Scholars” and other great Confucian masters and was widely seen as Prince Li Shimin’s think tank in his struggle for succession. Now with the Crown Prince in the palace, the Emperor ordering another favored son to open a “Literary Institute”—what was this meant to suggest?
Da’an Palace had been the Prince of Qin’s residence during the Wude era, and that old “Literary Institute” was located in what was now the Seventeenth Prince’s quarters. According to Li Chengqian, some younger uncle trying to curry favor with the Emperor and Prince of Yue had found that old plaque inscribed by Yu Shinan cleaned it up, and sent it to Prince Yue’s mansion. Li Tai had reported it to His Majesty and boldly hung up that plaque, openly positioning himself as the heir to their father’s cultural legacy.
Li Chengqian sat silently on his horse, gazing at the flying eaves of the tower. To the south of the polo field was the back wall of Zixu Temple, with a currently locked gate. Inside the wall stood another tower, where shadows could be faintly seen moving between the long windows and railings. Li Yuangui had heard from Wei Shubin about Li Chengqian’s romance with Chai Yingluo, which had also started with polo playing. Now the Crown Prince revisited this place, but his beloved had been banished—he must be filled with deep regret and melancholy.
“I heard that you, Fourteenth Uncle, rejected the chance to marry your beloved, the young lady of the Wei family,” Li Chengqian slowly asked. “Are you so eager to become the prince consort of Gaochang? Or do you think a man’s career and fame are more important, and a mere woman isn’t worth considering?”
That struck right at the heart.
“How could Your Highness not know?” Li Yuangui took several deep breaths before counterattacking: “Born into an imperial family if one can live peacefully, one has everything—what need is there to seek fame and fortune?”
The words slipped out naturally but made no sense. If he only sought to live peacefully, why would he voluntarily go to Gaochang? Li Yuangui was about to try making excuses, but seeing Li Chengqian’s sideways glance, he realized there was no need to bother. The Crown Prince wasn’t listening to him at all.
Li Chengqian was gazing somewhere far away, his sight seemingly penetrating through Zixu Temple’s high walls and towers, through Fanglin Gate, and the streets and alleys of Chang’an, all the way to where his beloved was. His dark eyes were misty, vaguely reflecting the image of a graceful figure dancing. Youth blooms like spring flowers and falls like autumn leaves, flowing waters enter the sea never to return.
“If Your Highness is so devoted to this love… why not earnestly beseech His Majesty and the Empress to fulfill your heart’s desires?” Li Yuangui couldn’t help asking, immediately feeling he had overstepped. The Crown Prince didn’t rebuke him, remaining lost in thought for a moment before answering:
“It’s useless… I’ve begged and begged, but none of them will agree. No one cares about my happiness or life and death. From birth, I’ve owed them a filial son, owed the officials a perfect man, owed the Great Tang an heir apparent. I’m indebted to everyone, and they all have the right to force me to follow their rules. Beyond that, no one cares what I want.”
No wonder Li Chengqian was so depressed—his cherished love had been brutally crushed, and his father was openly showing favoritism to his full brother, destabilizing his position as Crown Prince. For the first time in his life, Li Yuangui felt some sympathy for this nephew two years his senior, wanting to comfort him but not knowing what to say.
Knowing he wasn’t good at offering encouraging or flattering words and would likely say something wrong, he opened his mouth but wisely closed it again. Li Chengqian then withdrew his gaze, truly focusing on his fourteenth uncle’s face, with a cold smile playing on his lips:
“Fourteenth Uncle, I have a plan that can spare you the hardship of traveling to the frontier and marrying into the Gaochang royal family. After laying low for a while, you could properly marry your Wei young lady as the Princess of Wu, and live together in your fief until old age. Would you like to hear it?”
Li Yuangui’s whole body trembled: “I would like to hear the details.”
“Hmm…” Li Chengqian hesitated, pondering for a moment before saying: “Actually, you don’t need to know too much, nor do much. At the Emperor Emeritus’s funeral ceremony the day after tomorrow, the inner palace is short-handed. You bring one familiar person as an attendant, mix in with the inner servants, and don’t worry about anything else. After it’s done, I’ll handle everything.”
“Familiar person?” Li Yuangui thought for a moment, then changed his question: “What would he do among the inner servants?”
“Didn’t I say not to ask so much?” Li Chengqian’s lips curled in another smile. “He just needs to pour some ceremonial wine, nothing else.”
Li Yuangui gazed deep into the Crown Prince’s eyes.