At daybreak, the morning drum sounded on time and echoed out over Chang’an. The various chancellors waiting at Chengtian Gate for the morning court received the final accounting of the previous night’s disturbance.
Crown Prince Li Chongjun had conspired with the Minister of War, falsely issuing an imperial decree commanding the Commander-in-Chief of the Left Golden Guard and the Commanders-in-Chief of the Left and Right Imperial Guards to launch the coup. They had surrounded Prince Liang’s residence and in the confusion killed Prince Liang, his son, and more than ten of their associates. The Crown Prince then ordered men to divide up and hold the various palace gates, and personally led troops to besiege Xuanwu Gate, seeking to commit an act of insubordination against the Emperor and Empress. Fortunately the Emperor’s mandate from heaven was absolute and he was deeply beloved by the people. The Emperor and Empress Wei mounted Xuanwu Gate and berated the Crown Prince for his disloyalty and lack of filial devotion; the soldiers defected one after another, and the Crown Prince’s followers were killed beneath the city walls. The remnant forces scattered. The Crown Prince, with some hundred or more riders, fled through Suchang Gate out of Chang’an and headed for the Zhongnan Mountains.
When the chancellors heard that the Crown Prince had staged a coup, not one of them so much as flickered an eyelid — but when they heard that Prince Liang, his son, and their associates had all died in the previous night’s chaos, they finally permitted themselves to lift their gaze.
The sound of the ceremonial lash cracked at the front; all the officials fell silent and stood in solemn composure. They kept their eyes lowered, appearing to wait patiently — but inwardly each of them was calculating the shifts in the coming balance of power.
No one took this children’s-game of a coup seriously. But the Crown Prince’s killing of Prince Liang and his son was an unexpected windfall.
With Prince Liang and his son dead, the Wu family’s power had lost its central pillar; collapse was imminent. A great number of coveted positions at court would open up. One could only wonder — who, in what was to come, would be swift enough to ride the wind.
At the morning court, as expected, the day’s proceedings centered on the Crown Prince’s treason. The Emperor denounced the Crown Prince for his insubordination and rebellion, decreed the stripping of Li Chongjun’s title of Crown Prince, and ordered the Imperial Guards to comb the Zhongnan Mountains and swiftly apprehend him to answer for his crimes, thus consoling the spirits of Prince Liang and his son.
The Emperor discharged a great number of people in one sweep — every person who had dared to follow the deposed Crown Prince in rebellion was sentenced to have their family property confiscated and to be exiled. Several families who had taken no part in the conspiracy were also swept up in it simply because they had been closely associated with the Eastern Palace in recent times and had therefore incurred trouble.
The Emperor showed no mercy in dealing with Li Chongjun, his own son, yet he was deeply tender toward his youngest daughter, Princess Anle. He offered her a great deal of comfort and reassurance for having narrowly escaped death and suffered the untimely loss of her husband in his prime, bestowed large grants of land and precious jewels upon her, and issued a decree for an elaborate state funeral for Prince Liang and the Young Lord of Prince Liang. Princess Anle was in the prime of her beauty and youth, and widowhood at such an age was hardly appropriate. Once Princess Anle had recovered from the grief of her husband’s loss, the Emperor intended to select a new prince consort for her who would be entirely to her liking.
This display of the Emperor’s partiality set a great many families with eligible sons scheming. The Emperor doted on Princess Anle so unreservedly that he had deposed even the Crown Prince at the drop of a hat — might he not, in time, genuinely produce a Crown Princess? Princess Anle herself was a beauty rarely seen in a generation. If one could become her prince consort, would not both the realm and a great beauty be within one’s grasp?
Once the reckoning of crimes was completed, it was time to reward those who had rendered meritorious service. All Imperial Guards who had defended the Emperor received commendations, and among them, Marquis Pingnan was singled out by the Emperor for special praise for her valor in defending the city and her courage in battle. Ren Yao knelt in thanks for the imperial favor while all eyes were upon her — but the honors did not end there. Once the morning court was dismissed, Empress Wei sent for her personally, asking with warm familiarity what books she read and which martial arts she practiced. Ren Yao answered truthfully, and the more Empress Wei heard, the more satisfied she became; with a sweep of her hand, she bestowed another round of rewards upon her.
Before Ren Yao had even left the palace, news of her valor in saving the Emperor had already spread all over Chang’an. When she emerged from the palace, the figure who had previously been invisible like a shadow suddenly became conspicuous; colleagues crowded forward one after another to offer congratulations and claim acquaintance. Ren Yao looked at these people’s expressions and felt only hollow weariness. She declined every social engagement on the pretext of going to reassure her elder, and made her way home to Marquis Pingnan’s residence alone.
Walking down the road, her mind was entirely occupied with how to explain things to her grandmother, and whether her grandmother would be proud of her when she heard. She was still feeling anxious and uncertain when she looked up and saw someone standing at the gate.
He was wearing an ornately patterned round-collared robe, leaning against the stone lion statue in front of Marquis Pingnan’s residence, and appeared to have been waiting for some time. He saw her coming and brushed the dust from his clothes, slowly straightening up.
Ren Yao was accustomed to the carefree, devil-may-care Jiang Ling, and seeing him so serious all of a sudden, she felt slightly thrown. She put on a look of complete indifference and asked: “What are you doing here?”
Jiang Ling swept a careful gaze over her, confirming she was uninjured. “Nothing in particular,” he said. “I just wanted to come and see you.”
Ren Yao gave a mild oh and affected unconcern. “Then come in and we can talk.”
“No need.” Jiang Ling suddenly caught Ren Yao’s hand. “I can come and pay my respects to the Dowager Lady of Marquis Pingnan another day. But there are some things I want to say to you privately.”
The doormen at the gate had recognized Ren Yao arriving with a young man, and kept glancing over in their direction. Ren Yao swept a look at the people inside Marquis Pingnan’s residence who were watching the spectacle, then said mildly: “Come with me.”
Ren Yao led Jiang Ling into a narrow lane, getting them out of sight of Marquis Pingnan’s residence. Once she was certain no one was around, she said bluntly: “What are you here for?”
Jiang Ling fixed his gaze on Ren Yao. “I recall that yesterday, you were not in the garrison roster for city gate duty.”
So it was about that. Ren Yao’s tone was casual: “That’s right — I traded shifts with someone.”
“Why?” Jiang Ling took an abrupt step forward, gripping Ren Yao’s wrist tightly. “Didn’t I tell you before? Just do what’s within your own duties. Don’t get involved in all that fighting and scheming between them.”
His hand was clamped tightly around her wrist with the air of someone who would not let go without an answer. Ren Yao found herself uncertain when Jiang Ling had acquired such strength.
Ren Yao was quiet for a moment, then said: “You have your father behind you, so of course you can keep your head down and mind your own business. As long as you do what’s expected of you, no one dares come and make trouble for you. But I’m not the same. I have no one to fall back on. The moment I stop moving forward, those wolves will come and tear me apart. I can only keep pushing ahead, whether or not there’s a road before me.”
Jiang Ling pressed his lips together, as though stung by her words, and then suddenly raised his voice: “How are we different? I am Jiang Ling — not the son of Marquis Jiang’an. You still have me. I can be the one to fall back on for you. Even if I can’t do it now, we can work something out together.”
Ren Yao seemed startled by his sudden outburst. Without even thinking, she snapped: “What are you to Marquis Pingnan’s residence? On what basis should I work anything out with you?”
“On the basis that I like you.”
After Jiang Ling shouted it, both of them went silent. Ren Yao stared at him wide-eyed, as though she had heard something terrifying. Jiang Ling was stung by that look, and he had not originally intended to lay things bare — but in the rush of emotion, he had been completely unable to rein in his feelings.
Jiang Ling took a deep breath and worked hard to recover his composure. “I’m sorry — I may have startled you. But every word I said just now is what I truly feel. Yesterday, I waited for you for a long time. I had originally intended, once you arrived, to introduce you to my father.”
Ren Yao looked at Jiang Ling, her mind ringing as though someone had struck it with a mallet, completely unable to think. Her whole life’s experience had taught her only competition — she had to win. Relatives and friends had sons who trained in martial arts three hours a day; she would train four hours, five hours. Only by surpassing everyone her age could she prove she had done well.
Before she met Ming Huashang, she did not even eat pastries. Not because she disliked them, but because she felt she should not allow herself to. She had to be a pillar of the household, a woman general — so she could not allow herself to like sweet things, soft things, beautiful things. She could not have a woman’s sensitivity or gentleness; only by being like a man would she be successful.
And now, a young man had confessed his feelings to her. Ren Yao was startled, flustered, and frightened. No one had ever taught her how to be a woman, and faced now with her own emotions, she was like a bird startled by the mere twang of a bowstring.
She was supposed to be a strong woman who surpassed men in every way. How could she allow herself to develop feelings for a man? That would be an insult to her ambitions — a betrayal of all her past efforts.
Ren Yao felt as though she had been burned by something. She yanked her hand back with force. Jiang Ling saw the expression on her face and felt a jolt inwardly, unable to help himself: “Ren Yao, I…”
“I’m sorry.” Ren Yao cut across his words, lowered her eyes, and said, “I only think of you as a teammate.”
Jiang Ling felt a deep, heavy blow inside, and fixed his gaze on her lowered lashes. “Only a teammate? The same as Li Huazhang? The same as Xie Jichuan?”
Ren Yao bit the inside of her lower lip. She pronounced the words as much for herself as for him, with absolute finality: “That’s right — the same as them. Before it was because we were on missions together, so I had no choice but to consult with all of you. But anything else is my own private matter — it’s not your concern.”
It hit Jiang Ling like a thunderclap, and his face went pale — yet he still refused to release his grip on her sleeve. “I don’t believe you. After all the time we’ve spent together, do you really feel nothing at all?”
Ren Yao steeled herself and ruthlessly pulled her sleeve free from his fingers. Without a backward glance, she walked toward Marquis Pingnan’s residence. “Nothing. You’re imagining things. I only think of you as a partner.”
·
After receiving the news of the Crown Prince’s coup, Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang rode back to Chang’an at full speed. They had barely passed through the city gate when they heard that the deposed Crown Prince, after fleeing into the Zhongnan Mountains and attempting to make for Luoyang to raise reinforcements, had been beheaded by his own soldiers while he slept at night. Those soldiers then presented the deposed Crown Prince’s severed head to the Emperor as an offering of merit.
Whether the Emperor pardoned these men of their capital offense was not widely known; what the court and the public knew was that the Emperor enshrined the deposed Crown Prince’s head before the tombs of Prince Liang and his son to console the spirits of the Wu family, while sending a continuous stream of rewards to Princess Anle to comfort her in the grief of her husband’s death.
Though given how cheerfully Princess Anle was going about selecting a new prince consort, the grief of widowhood did not seem to weigh too heavily upon her.
Prince Liang was dead. The Crown Prince had been slain by his own men. With everything settled, Chang’an returned to its songs and revels. Li Huazhang, having made all haste and still arrived too late, let out a long sigh and quietly returned to the Prince of Yong’s residence to observe the mourning rites for the Zetian Empress, as though he knew nothing of any of this.
What else could he do? The people were already dead; any action now would come too late.
Knowing he was unsettled inside, Ming Huashang could only stay quietly by his side. Upon returning to the residence, she learned that Ren Yao had come looking for them a few days before, but in their absence, the doormen — faithfully following their instructions — had refused her entry on the grounds that they were receiving no visitors. Ren Yao had left a letter, which in cipher had conveyed that the Crown Prince intended to rebel and urged them to return at once — urgent matter. Ming Huashang looked at this letter and had nothing left but a long sigh.
Such was the irony of the world’s affairs. They had so rarely left Chang’an — and that happened to be the stretch of time during which Li Chongjun staged his coup. When Ren Yao had come seeking help, they were not home; by the time they returned, the coup had already been resolved.
Perhaps, this was simply what fate had ordained. Ming Huashang had of course heard the news of Ren Yao’s meritorious service during the coup and of her being taken into favor by Empress Wei — and she felt no sense that Ren Yao had done anything wrong in looking out for herself. She certainly felt no sense of betrayal. She simply felt weary.
The same thing repeated itself over and over in a cycle. Once it had been the Wu family persecuting the Li family; now the Wu family was nearly extinct, and it was the Li family’s turn to tear itself apart. Looking at the outcome alone, there seemed to be no real difference.
As night fell, Li Huazhang was long in coming back. Ming Huashang brought no attendants, took up a lantern, and went alone to the study to find him.
The door creaked open. Li Huazhang looked up and saw it was her, then rose with familiarity: “What brought you here?”
Ming Huashang did not stir a muscle, letting Li Huazhang take her lantern, remove her cape, fold her garment, and warm her hands for her before guiding her to sit down. Ming Huashang leaned against Li Huazhang’s shoulder, let her mind go blissfully quiet, and said: “I’ve already written back to Elder Sister Ren Yao. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Even if we had been in Chang’an that day, we might not have been able to change anything. Li Chongjun and the Emperor and Empress were already estranged. Without this incident, there would have been another one.”
Li Huazhang was silent for a moment, then held her tightly. “I know. I just feel as though everything I’ve done has been entirely without meaning.”
“How can you say it has no meaning?” Ming Huashang leaned in his arms and looked up at him. “You stopped a rebellion and benefited countless common people — that has great significance.”
“And yet, after stopping one palace coup, Chang’an erupts with another.” Li Huazhang sighed. “Different people performing the same play, back and forth on this stage, around and around in circles — what use does any of it serve?”
Ming Huashang hugged his waist and rocked it gently, coaxingly. “That’s not your fault.”
Li Huazhang felt the soft warmth in his arms and looked down at her with a faint smile. “I know that. You don’t have to comfort me. I once believed it was the Empress’s suspicion and the brutality of her officials that had driven the court to a state where everyone fought over power and no one did anything of real substance. Now I understand — with the Li family in power, it is exactly the same. In all these years, the only thing that has truly mattered is that I married you.”
Ming Huashang laughed softly. “Second Elder Brother, you’ve been getting better and better at sweet words lately.”
“Not at all,” Li Huazhang laughed as well. He held the person in his arms more closely, his chin resting gently atop her head, and said in a low voice: “Every word, every syllable — all from the bottom of my heart.”
Li Huazhang was beginning to understand what the Duke Zhenguo had meant. Spending half a lifetime scrambling for power and position, one comes at the end to realize that fame and fortune cannot be kept by anyone — only the time spent with those one loves is irreplaceable. Li Huazhang was very glad that he had understood this truth while he was not yet too old.
He let go of any desire to meddle in the imperial family’s tangled mess of affairs and put his whole heart into building their life at home. He and Ming Huashang deliberated over every meal, planned every seasonal festival, went together to shop in the eastern and western markets, and when they had no appetite for cooking themselves, simply walked over to Duke Zhenguo’s residence to enjoy a free meal. After all, the two households were nearby — it was just a stroll away.
In the eyes of outsiders, the Prince of Yong had lost his edge and retreated entirely into domestic life. No one knew that the Xuan Xiaowei tiger tally lay in Li Huazhang’s hands, that every day he reviewed Xuan Xiaowei’s routine intelligence, and that he was in fact the best-informed person in the entire court.
Li Huazhang held a peerless blade in his grasp, yet was content to live in quiet obscurity. But however much he wished to pass his days in peace, some people were determined to provoke him.