“With Fuyun’s family defeated and Murong Shun already enthroned as Khagan, his position isn’t easy either,” Li Yuangui contemplated aloud. “He’s a puppet we installed, and the tribes likely respect him even less. Once our army withdraws, it’s questionable whether he can even keep his life, let alone his throne. Yang Da going to join his father—they’re practically strangers, hard to say how close they’ll be. If Yang Da were clever enough to help his father secure the Khagan position, that would be fine, but he… ah…”
No one knew Yang Xinzhi’s capabilities better than Li Yuangui. He excelled at eating, drinking, and merrymaking, understood human nature and could make people happy, and didn’t hesitate in mounted combat and charges—a great companion and guard, a perfect scion of an old Longyou family. But asking him to analyze military and political situations, devise strategies, inspire and motivate subordinates… he had grown up dependent on others and watching for their reactions his whole life.
“In a few days when things are arranged here, I’ll set out with Yang Da,” Li Yuangui sighed. “I’m going to Gaochang, he’s accompanying his mother to Fushi City, we can travel together for much of the way. I’ll try to teach him as much as I can, and leave the rest to fate.”
Li Chengjian didn’t respond. He was standing by the third-floor railing of the north tower, where the Emperor would view the match that afternoon, looking down with a strange expression, seemingly lost in endless thoughts.
“Your Highness?” Li Yuangui probed.
Li Chengjian glanced at him, speaking flatly: “You won’t be going to Gaochang.”
“What?” Li Yuangui couldn’t believe his ears.
“The Gaochang Prince Consort proposal is canceled. The court will send envoys to investigate Qu Wentai’s crime of detaining our subjects, ordering him to respectfully return the detained people to Tang—you can go thank my uncle.”
“What?” Li Yuangui asked again, not just doubting his ears but feeling his head wasn’t working right. Of Li Chengjian’s three sentences, the first two barely made sense—the court decided not to send Li Yuangui to compete for Prince Consort in Gaochang, instead sending envoys for tough negotiations, but… thank his uncle? How did Long Sun Wuji come into this?
“This morning, several ministers discussed northwestern military affairs in Wanchun Hall,” Li Chengjian paused, then surprisingly smiled. “His Majesty finally agreed to abandon the plan of having Commander Li attack Gaochang from Tuyuhun. The entire army will withdraw in autumn, dispersing troops to their garrisons to rest and recuperate before planning future campaigns. Wei Xuancheng thanked His Majesty on behalf of the Central Plains people and also put in a few good words for you, Fourteenth Uncle. His Majesty joked it was a pity Xuancheng couldn’t take you as a son-in-law, and then my Uncle Duke of Qi stepped forward and said—”
“Why doesn’t Your Majesty show heaven-and-earth-vast grace and fulfill these young lovers’ wishes, choosing someone else to go to Gaochang for the marriage alliance?”
Around the throne in Wanchun Hall, among the seats of the Emperor’s trusted ministers, Long Sun Wuji’s words were shocking, leaving the hall momentarily silent. Everyone looked at him, but the Imperial Uncle’s chubby face maintained its usual unconcerned smile.
Private romantic affairs had never been and could never be a consideration in discussions between rulers and ministers about state affairs. These words were too strange—at least Crown Prince Li Chengjian, standing behind his father, completely failed to understand his uncle’s meaning. Wei Zheng didn’t understand either, as evident from his expression. But Left Vice Director Fang Xuanling smiled and added:
“Does Duke Qi perhaps think the Prince of Wu isn’t the best choice to venture beyond the borders as an envoy to foreign lands?”
“Correct.” Long Sun Wuji nodded, raising his tablet to directly address the Emperor. “When the Prince of Wu recently participated in policy discussions here, he put the people’s livelihood first, suppressing his emotions and desires, forcefully rejecting his life’s wish to the point of losing composure and crying before Your Majesty—I was deeply moved. The Emperor Emeritus had such a fine son, Your Majesty such a worthy brother, this is a blessing for the imperial family. I wish Your Majesty to employ talent appropriately, allowing him to live peacefully to old age, rather than becoming a disaster for the state.”
In his long speech, the emphasis fell only on “suppressing emotions” and “disaster for the state.” Even Li Chengjian understood now. His father naturally understood too, smiling as he said:
“Just speak directly. Seeing Fourteenth Brother’s heroic air of resolutely abandoning private feelings, you were reminded of the young me, weren’t you? So you immediately thought of ‘disaster for the state.'”
Everyone present except Li Chengjian laughed. The Imperial Uncle smiled and said: “Your Majesty’s divine martial prowess is heaven-sent, a blessing for the state. But for the unity of the realm and peace under heaven, heaven’s mandate for rulership must be unique—no need to elaborate. If the Prince of Wu follows the previous plan to Gaochang as a Great State’s Prince Consort, with his wife’s territory and army on the left, merchant and barbarian financial support on the right, controlling key transport routes, being both intelligent and persevering—what might happen in the future, your subject dares not say, but advises Your Majesty not to take this gamble.”
These words were spoken less than an hour ago, and Li Chengjian related them to his fourteenth uncle clearly and bluntly, word for word, finishing with a cold smile at Li Yuangui:
“Congratulations, Fourteenth Uncle, Duke Qi thinks highly of you, believing your talent and ambition comparable to His Majesty in his youth. In all my years studying at court, I’ve never heard my uncle speak such words.”
This… was not praise.
No matter how naive and inexperienced Li Yuangui might be, he had grown up in the imperial family, hearing palace ladies’ gossip about past events since childhood. He felt every hair on his back standing on end, with a sharp sword seemingly suspended above his head, swaying and ready to fall at any moment.
And if anyone else had related this, it would have been fine, but it had to be Li Chengjian, the Crown Prince whom all acknowledged as most resembling his father in appearance and temperament, hearing his father and uncle “praise” another royal son to his face—one can imagine his feelings. Meeting his meaningful smile, Li Yuangui opened his mouth, not knowing whether to answer “yes” or “I wouldn’t dare,” and simply played dumb.
His legs felt light and floating, and in his dizziness, he heard Li Chengjian continue that the Emperor had thus decided to cancel the Prince of Wu’s mission. After further discussion, the ministers felt it would be too difficult to choose another prince as consort, involving too many complications and contradicting the decision to “send envoys to Gaochang to wage verbal war,” so they simply terminated the proposal entirely.
Li Yuangui didn’t know whether to be happy or sad, to laugh wildly or cry loudly. He had escaped the forced marriage that had caused him such pain and conflict and unexpectedly learned that Wei Shubin’s father had changed his evaluation of him, clearing obstacles to marry his beloved. But simultaneously, his lifelong dream of achieving military merit and bringing honor to his ancestors had been stripped away, making his decade-plus of hard study and training all for nothing.
He stood there in a daze, his mind in chaos with mixed emotions, barely registering what Li Chengjian said to him afterward. Only when drums and music announced the Emperor’s arrival did he go down to receive the imperial procession, performing the proper rituals before attending His Majesty back upstairs.
The Emperor casually inspected the polo field and surrounding arrangements, appearing quite satisfied and praising the host Yang Gongren. Before the imperial arrival, other spectators had gradually assembled, filling the seats around three sides of the field. Across East Cross Street, Wanshan Nunnery’s tower displayed fluttering red and green and many shadows—the Empress and her ladies must have arrived.
Before the Tuyuhun prince and uncle pair began their match, Li Chengjian had arranged for two teams of guards to play first as a warm-up performance. At a drum beat from the imperial tower, two teams of horsemen galloped out from opposite sides of the field, one in red and one in green, each rider in tight-fitting short clothes and high spirits, cheers reaching the clouds.
The players bowed to the imperial tower, and the Emperor nodded to begin the match. Both sides raised their mallets and charged, attacking back and forth in great excitement. As the spectators returned to their seats amidst the flowing crowd, Li Yuangui suddenly saw a guard approach Crown Prince Chengjian and whisper something. Li Chengjian’s expression changed as he instructed his attendant “If His Majesty asks, just say I went across to the temple,” and hurried downstairs.
Li Yuangui found this slightly strange but didn’t think much of it, returning to his seat to rest for a while until the preliminary match was ending and his dizziness finally subsided. Then suddenly an attendant came to relay: “His Majesty summons the Prince of Wu upstairs to talk.”
The dozen young princes’ viewing seats were on the imperial tower’s second floor. Li Yuangui rose and followed the attendant up one flight of stairs to the center of the third floor, where he saw the Emperor sitting alone on the imperial couch, everyone else keeping their distance. Fresh exotic fruits were laid on the table before the couch, with a folding chair beside it. The Emperor waved for Li Yuangui to dispense with ceremony and rise, standing up himself.
Downstairs the two teams had finished, kneeling to thank the imperial grace at the railing, and the Emperor ordered rewards distributed. After the excitement and cheering died down, the Emperor turned and asked Li Yuangui if he had heard the Crown Prince’s relay about the Gaochang Prince Consort matter.
Li Yuangui reported he knew and gave thanks, showing no emotion. The Emperor looked at him with a smile: “You’re still not reconciled?”
How to answer this… But there was no need, as commotion arose outside again—today’s main event participants, former Tuyuhun Crown Prince Zun and current Crown Prince Nuoheba, were each leading their horses onto the field.
Something was wrong. Li Yuangui stepped forward half a pace, eyes widening as he leaned on the railing to look.
Note: The incident of the former Tuyuhun Crown Prince Zun’s marriage proposal mentioned in Chapter 37 is recorded in Old Tang Book Biography 148: “Emperor Taizong… summoned Fuyun to court, but he claimed illness and didn’t come. Then his son Prince Zun sought marriage, so [the Emperor] demanded he come in person for the bride as a means of control. Prince Zun also claimed illness and refused to come to court, so an edict stopped the marriage and sent Gentleman-in-Attendance Kang Chuzhi to explain the consequences. Fuyun sent troops to raid Lan and Guo prefectures… Shun was Fuyun’s eldest son. Initially a hostage in Sui, he was appointed Grand Master of the Palace with Golden Purple but was long unable to return home. Fuyun then made another son Crown Prince, and when [Shun] finally returned home, he was constantly dissatisfied.”
It’s generally believed that the Crown Prince whom Murong Fuyun installed after demoting his eldest son Shun was Prince Zun who sought marriage with Tang. However, “Prince Zun” should be his title, as Tuyuhun had a custom of conferring “XX Prince” titles on powerful tribal vassals like the Prince of Tianzhu, Prince of Gaochang, Prince of Daning, etc. mentioned in the text. “Prince Zun” may simply mean “Crown Prince,” and historical records don’t preserve this person’s real name, nor should there be a name like “Murong Zun.”