Chapter Eighteen: Adopting Wan'er Shangguan

On the eighteenth day of the twelfth month in the first year of the Linde era, the Imperial Prison reported that former Censor-in-Chief Cui Xuanche had taken his own life by hanging, and that Shangguan Yi's household servant, Shangguan Fu, had dashed himself to death against the wall. The report asserted they both chose suicide out of fear of punishment. Emperor Gaozong was furious, ordering the Grand General of the Imperial Guards, Xue Rengui, to seal off the scene and commanding officials from the Ministry of Justice to re-investigate the matter thoroughly. Yet, after days of confusion and dispute, no consensus was reached. The court officials, indignant and incensed, flooded the imperial court with memorials impeaching the Supreme Court for negligence and disregard for human life. The deluge of petitions greatly troubled the Emperor.

On the twentieth day of that month, Prince Lu Li Xian and Prince Zhou Li Xian submitted a joint memorial, acknowledging the Supreme Court’s failings but attributing them to negligence rather than malice, suggesting censure as sufficient punishment. Now, with the accused dead and no witnesses left in the Shangguan Yi case, the truth remained in doubt, making the original sentence no longer applicable. If all were forgiven, it would appear too lenient; exile, they argued, might be appropriate. This proposal sparked heated debate among the officials, dividing the court into supporters and opponents. The momentum of censure against the Supreme Court thus dissipated, and Emperor Gaozong, relieved, approved the memorial. A potential political storm was quietly laid to rest, and Li Xian’s reputation as a wise prince quickly spread throughout the land.

"Mist veils the mirror before the moon,
Wind startles the cicada at the temple,
A sealed letter awaits the messenger’s return,
My tears are spent beneath the white clouds."

Upon a small hill at the Five Li Pavilion east of Chang’an, Shangguan Yi, clad in a gray robe, stood silently in the snow, his eyes lost in the mist-shrouded cityscape. He stood motionless, like a statue, allowing the drifting snowflakes to settle upon him. Tormented by unrest, he recalled the lines he had composed last year—his old poem, "Lament of Zhaojun," and softly recited it, his voice thick with bitterness.

Exile to Ai Prefecture—present-day Thanh Hoa in Vietnam—was the fate that awaited Shangguan Yi, the very place where the renowned statesman Zhu Suiliang had been exiled a decade before. Back then, Shangguan Yi had secretly mocked Zhu Suiliang for his lack of political acumen. Now, he found himself in the same position. The thought that Zhu Suiliang had never returned to Chang’an weighed on Shangguan Yi like a mountain.

“Father, it’s time to go.”

As his mind roiled in confusion, Shangguan Tingzhi, his son, drawn and haggard, approached cautiously and reminded him softly.

Yes, it was time. Despite the ache of leaving, departure was inevitable. Shangguan Yi shook his head in silent sorrow, took one last look at Chang’an, then turned stiffly, exchanged a wordless glance with his son, and began the desolate walk down the hill toward the waiting carriages.

“Father, look—someone’s coming!”

Shangguan Yi had barely walked a few steps when his son’s startled cry rang out behind him.

“Oh?” At the sound, Shangguan Yi froze, then quickly turned back, hurrying to higher ground. Shading his eyes, he watched a carriage race toward them from Chang’an, anxiety and apprehension etched on his face. Only when the carriage drew near enough to reveal its insignia did his expression ease. Without heeding his son’s mutterings, he rushed down the hill, stumbling as he hurried to greet the approaching carriage.

“Your humble servant Shangguan Yi greets His Highness, Prince Zhou.”

The carriage galloped to a halt near Shangguan Yi. The curtain lifted, and Li Xian, wrapped in white fox fur and attended by Gao Miao, descended from the carriage. Before he even reached the ground, Shangguan Yi had hurried forward, bowing repeatedly with utmost respect.

“No need for such formality, Lord Shangguan. I intended to bid you farewell this morning but was delayed by mundane affairs. Fortunately, I’ve arrived in time.” Li Xian raised a hand in a gentle gesture, signaling Shangguan Yi to rise, and explained with a warm smile.

“Your Highness, I am unworthy of such consideration—how could I trouble you…”

Through his years as prime minister, Shangguan Yi had never paid much attention to the obscure prince, Li Xian. Even when they met at imperial banquets, he barely glanced his way. Yet now, this unremarkable young man had become his savior. The rumors in the city credited Prince Lu, Li Xian, with saving his life, but Shangguan Yi knew it was truly Prince Zhou, Li Xian, whose words at the execution ground had carried far more weight than those of the seemingly formidable Prince Lu. Though few noticed, Shangguan Yi, seasoned by decades in the bureaucracy, clearly saw who had been in command.

Poor old man! Seeing Shangguan Yi so moved, Li Xian felt a pang—not out of sympathy for his plight, but as a reminder to tread carefully. In politics, any misstep could bring ruin, especially when facing a formidable adversary like Lady Wu.

“Lord Shangguan, the road to Ai Prefecture is long and arduous. Please take care. I have prepared some travel funds that may be of use.” Unwilling to see Shangguan Yi sink further into grief, Li Xian smiled and motioned for Gao Miao to bring forth a small chest from the carriage, which he handed to Shangguan Tingzhi.

“Your Highness’s great kindness is unforgettable. Should fate allow, I will serve you with all my loyalty.” Shangguan Yi did not know why Li Xian had gone to such lengths to save his family, but he recognized the debt was immeasurable, one he might never repay. He pledged his allegiance without hesitation.

Fate? What fate is left? Poor old man—there may not even be a future for you in Ai Prefecture! Li Xian felt no joy at Shangguan Yi’s pledge. He had already guessed Shangguan Yi’s end would be grim. Though he wished to save him, his power was insufficient. In truth, Li Xian had not come seeking Shangguan Yi’s loyalty, but for another reason altogether. So, he merely nodded with a faint smile.

“Lord Shangguan, I do have a matter to discuss—may I have a word in private?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Unsure of Li Xian's intentions, Shangguan Yi, after a moment's hesitation, gestured for him to follow.

“Lord Shangguan, I heard that half a year ago your household welcomed a new daughter, named Shangguan Wan’er. Is that correct?” Once they were out of earshot, Li Xian asked with a smile.

“Yes, that is so. May I ask why Your Highness…”

Shangguan Yi had expected that Li Xian might wish to secure his support or seek court secrets. Never had he imagined the prince would inquire about his infant granddaughter. He stood stunned, unable to finish his sentence.

Why indeed? The answer was long and complicated. In his previous life, Shangguan Wan’er had become a celebrated poetess and beauty. Li Xian had felt deep affection for her, but Lady Wu had prevented their union. Only on his second ascension to the throne had he been able to fulfill his wish. It was out of lingering love for her that Li Xian had labored to overturn Shangguan Yi’s case in his past life. This time, he could save Shangguan Yi once, but not again. He could not bear to see his former beloved perish in the shadows of intrigue. Still, such reasons could not be explained.

“Well, as Ai Prefecture is distant and plagued by miasma, I fear for Wan’er’s health. If Lord Shangguan is willing, perhaps she could be entrusted to my household for now. When you return to the capital, she can be reunited with your family. Would you be at ease with such an arrangement?”

The more Li Xian explained, the more confused Shangguan Yi became. He had only one son but three grandsons, all very young, the eldest just over six. If Li Xian wished to spare the hardship of exile for a child, it would make sense to keep a grandson. Why, then, did he wish to keep Wan’er, a girl? Shangguan Yi could not help but feel uneasy.

Explanations would only lead to more confusion, so Li Xian simply smiled and waited for Shangguan Yi’s decision.

“Well then, Wan’er is but an infant, ill-suited for such hardship. Since Your Highness shows her such favor, how can I refuse? I entrust her to you; whether as servant or handmaid, her fate is yours to decide.” Shangguan Yi was decisive. Though he couldn’t fathom Li Xian’s motives, he agreed without further hesitation.

“Rest assured, Lord Shangguan. As long as I am here, Wan’er will never suffer harm.” Hearing Shangguan Yi’s consent, Li Xian’s heart finally settled. He smiled, clasped his hands, and spoke with conviction.

“Please wait, Your Highness. I will fetch Wan’er at once.” Without further words, Shangguan Yi returned to his carriages.

“Your Highness, this is my daughter-in-law, Lady Sun, and the child she holds is my granddaughter, Wan’er.” After a brief commotion, Shangguan Yi returned, leading a pale, haggard young woman cradling an infant. He introduced them with a formal salute.

“Your humble servant greets Your Highness.”

Lady Sun was not yet thirty, once accustomed to a life of ease, but months in prison had withered her. She was pale as paper, her movements stiff and unsteady as she bowed to Li Xian.

“Lady Shangguan, you need not be so formal. And this must be Wan’er.” Li Xian accepted her bow, his gaze drawn to the rosy-faced infant in her arms.

“Yes, this is my daughter. I am deeply grateful that Your Highness is willing to take her in.” Lady Sun was reluctant to part with her child but dared not defy her father-in-law. She cradled Wan’er tightly for a moment, then, trembling, handed her to Gao Miao.

“Let me hold her,” Li Xian said, reaching out before Gao Miao could. He took Shangguan Wan’er into his arms and, looking down at the tiny girl, was lost in memories of her extraordinary beauty from his past life, his gaze growing distant and wistful…