Chapter Two: Worlds Apart—Life and Death (Part One)

The snow had lessened, but the wind had grown fiercer, wailing through the air with a bone-chilling cold. Even with the carriage walls to shield him, Li Xian still felt an unbearable chill. The brazier inside the carriage was burning bright and hot, yet it could do nothing to ease the cold, for this chill welled up from deep within his heart, impossible to block or evade. Under such penetrating cold, Li Xian’s frail figure trembled like a leaf in a storm.

Three different lives had shaped three distinct characters within him—Li Xian’s weakness as a youth, his caution and world-weariness in old age, and the resolute strength concealed by the outward affability of the young Mayor Li Sheng. These were three entirely different souls now fused into one, making inner conflict and entanglement inevitable. Confusion and bewilderment became the truest reflection of Li Xian’s present state of mind, and the vast disparity wrought by his travel through time and space left him desperately out of place. Tormented by intense psychological conflict, Li Xian could no longer distinguish reality from dream; his mind was a tangled, chaotic mess.

“Your Highness, Your Highness.”

Just as Li Xian’s thoughts threatened to spiral out of control, a few soft calls drifted in from outside the carriage curtain, pulling him back from the brink.

“Ah,” Li Xian answered vaguely, lifting his head in a daze. Only then did he realize that the carriage had stopped at some point. Restless, he shifted his body, gritted his teeth, and raised his hand to gently lift a corner of the curtain. Peering out, he met the anxious face of the young eunuch, Gao Miao.

“Your Highness, you... Ah, Your Highness, we have arrived at Chengtian Gate. Your Highness, look…” Gao Miao, seeing Li Xian at last, relaxed for a moment, but upon noticing how deathly pale Li Xian looked, his heart seized with worry again. Yet he dared not inquire directly, so he swallowed nervously and offered his reminder in a low voice.

Arrived? Oh, yes, we've arrived. Li Xian was momentarily stunned, then finally recalled the purpose of his journey. His lips twitched as if to speak, but in the end, he said nothing, merely nodding in silence. Bowing, he lifted the curtain and stepped cautiously from the carriage. Gao Miao hurried forward to support his arm with the utmost care, dutifully assisting Li Xian as he descended.

Chengtian Gate was still the same grand and imposing structure as ever. Not even the heavy snow could hide its majestic presence. Anyone arriving there would feel awed, but in Li Xian’s eyes, it carried a different meaning—not a sense of worship or devout reverence, but a flavor hard to describe, blending familiarity and intimacy with a touch of alienation and confusion. Yet above all, there was fear.

Fear—yes, it was unmistakably fear, pure and undiluted. It did not arise solely from his current confusion, but also from his doubts and anxieties about the future. Scenes from the “past” surged chaotically in his mind, making his frail body shudder uncontrollably, and his little face turned as pale as snow.

“Your Highness, Your Highness.”

The young eunuch Gao Miao was only thirteen, having entered the palace as a eunuch at the age of seven. He had immediately been assigned to the Residence of the Prince of Zhou to serve Li Xian, and six years had passed since then. Growing up alongside Li Xian, he was intimately familiar with his temperament—so much so that he could usually guess Li Xian’s thoughts from the smallest gesture or glance. But today, all his experience had failed him: from morning till now, Li Xian’s every action was completely beyond his grasp. This string of surprises filled Gao Miao with suspicion and worry, but as an attendant, he always kept his place and dared not show it. Now, as Li Xian stood staring blankly at Chengtian Gate, with no sign of moving forward, and Gao Miao feared causing a delay, he could only draw near and quietly call out to him.

“Hm? Oh, yes, into the palace, into the palace.”

Prompted by Gao Miao’s reminder, Li Xian finally snapped out of his daze. He glanced at Gao Miao with a distracted air, muttered a vague response, and then walked toward Chengtian Gate. After showing his pass, he proceeded wordlessly through the Hall of Supreme Polarity, turned past the Hall of the Two Principles, and entered the inner court. Following the main avenue of the palace, he stopped abruptly in front of Yide Hall, so suddenly that Gao Miao almost collided with his back.

“Your Highness, the Empress is due to give birth today. His Majesty and the Crown Prince are already inside. Your Highness, what do you think…?” Gao Miao struggled to keep his balance and, seeing Li Xian in another stupor, could only smile wryly and hasten to explain.

Due to give birth? Yes, today is the day that little Taiping is born. Taiping—peace and tranquility—how ironic. A sudden flash of insight broke through Li Xian’s mental fog, and he remembered what was about to happen. The corners of his mouth lifted in a bitter smile, but he said nothing, only shook his head slightly, straightened his clothes, and strode into the hall.

Yide Hall had been the residence of every Tang Empress since the founding of the dynasty. Since Wu Meiniang was made Empress on the first day of the eleventh month in the sixth year of Yonghui (655 AD), she had lived here for almost a decade. However, because she was rumored to have plotted the deaths of Empress Wang and Consort Xiao, she seldom stayed in the Taiji Palace in Chang’an, instead persuading Emperor Gaozong Li Zhi to reside in Luoyang for most of each year. Only around the Qingming festival did they return briefly to Chang’an. This return to the capital had been prompted by Wu’s pregnancy and the difficulties of travel, bringing them back as early as the sixth month for the birth. Now, with the Empress in labor, the hall was a flurry of activity, with countless palace maids and eunuchs coming and going in a state of utter confusion.

As Li Xian made his way inside, palace maids and eunuchs bowed deeply in greeting, but his mind was preoccupied, and he paid them no heed, entering the main hall on his own. From a distance, he saw Emperor Gaozong Li Zhi, dressed in his imperial robes, anxiously wringing his hands and pacing back and forth at the threshold between the front and rear halls. The Crown Prince, Li Hong, reclined on a soft couch, while the upright, handsome youth standing nearby was Prince of Lu, Li Xian’s younger brother. Below Li Xian stood his wet nurse, cradling a three-year-old boy: Prince Yin, Li Xulun, later known as the Emperor Ruizong, famed for his pacific reign.

“Your son greets Father Emperor,” Li Xian said, full of thoughts but careful not to betray any of them. As he entered the main hall, he quickly stepped forward, bowed deeply, and called out in a clear voice.

“Ah, it’s Xian’er. No need for ceremony.” The Emperor, still anxiously pacing, broke into a kindly smile when he saw Li Xian. He gestured affectionately for Li Xian to come closer, concerned as he noted the pallor of his face. “Are you unwell, Xian’er? Why do you look so pale? In this freezing weather, you must keep warm. Don’t wait until you’re truly ill and need a doctor—that would be too late.”

“Father’s advice is right. I am fine, perhaps just caught a little chill. I’ll be better after some rest.” Gazing upon his father’s gentle, loving expression, Li Xian was overwhelmed by a surge of familial affection, his eyes reddening as he struggled to hold back tears. He quickly lowered his head to hide his emotion and replied as steadily as he could, though his voice trembled with feeling.

“A chill, you say? That’s not to be taken lightly. Someone, fetch a bowl of ginger soup.” At the mention of a chill, Li Zhi grew concerned and gave an urgent order, and a young eunuch hurried off to the kitchens.

“Your son… your son thanks Father Emperor for his kindness.” Hearing his father’s gentle words, Li Xian could no longer hold back his tears and wept with gratitude. Despite his confusion about his own identity and state, the bond between father and son was real. Having lived several lives, Li Xian knew well that his father, for all his weakness and lack of imperial or marital excellence, truly loved his children with a sincerity rare in the scheming world of the imperial family. That alone moved Li Xian deeply.

“Silly child, there’s no need for such formality with your father.” The Emperor sighed. “Your mother’s been inside all day with no sign yet. I can’t help but worry… I just hope all goes well. But enough of that. Xian’er, go wait with your brothers. I’ll go in and take a look.” He fussed over Li Xian for a moment, then, still preoccupied with the Empress’s labor, adjusted his sleeves and started for the rear hall—only to stop after a couple of steps, overcome by anxiety, and begin pacing in place again.

A good man, but not a good emperor. Watching his father’s indecisive agitation, Li Xian could not help but recall the final verdict of history on Emperor Gaozong. Sighing inwardly, he turned and made his way to the side.

“Your brother pays respects to the Crown Prince and the Sixth Brother.” Despite his inner turmoil, Li Xian did not dare show the slightest disrespect before his brothers, the reclining Crown Prince Li Hong and the upright Prince of Lu, Li Xian. He bowed formally and offered his greetings.

“Seventh Brother, there’s no need for that. Please, rise. It’s terribly cold; do be careful, lest you fall ill,” said Li Hong, ever gentle and approachable despite his rank, never putting on airs before his brothers. Frail of constitution, he had caught a chill in the recent snowy weather, but as the Empress was in labor, duty compelled his presence. He forced himself to sit up and wait for news. Now, seeing Li Xian salute him, he smiled warmly and motioned for him to rise.

“Thank you, Crown Prince, for your concern.”

In both his past and present lives, Li Xian had always felt close to Li Hong. Seeing his brother smile before speaking warmed his heart, and he smiled in return, thanked him, straightened up, and prepared to move to his brother’s side.

“Seventh Brother, why are you always the last to arrive? If you don’t change this lazy habit, how will you ever be fit for great responsibilities?” Before Li Xian could take a step, Prince of Lu, Li Xian, standing to one side, suddenly chided him, leaving Li Xian momentarily speechless.