Chapter Four: Between Life and Death (Part Two)

Was it reckless? Perhaps a bit—compared to Li Xian’s usual habit of shrinking from trouble, today’s volunteering was indeed somewhat brash. Of course, if he had a choice, Li Xian truly did not wish to expose himself to Empress Wu’s gaze so soon. This was not only a matter of strength; more importantly, Li Xian had yet to clearly define his own role. In other words, he had not succeeded in merging the three phases of his life—or perhaps three distinct souls—into a single whole. It was therefore unwise for him to intervene in such a weighty court affair at this moment. Yet, regrettably, there were reasons that left him no alternative.

Others might not know the true cause of Shangguan Yi’s death, the injustice behind it, or the significance of his demise. But Li Xian, having lived through it once before, understood all too well. On the surface, Shangguan Yi was executed with his family by Empress Wu’s order, following the report by Xu Jingzong—a powerful minister of the Empress’s faction—that Shangguan Yi had conspired with the deposed Crown Prince Li Zhong to stage a rebellion. In reality, however, Shangguan Yi’s true crime was assisting Emperor Gaozong in drafting the edict to depose the Empress; when this plot failed, Empress Wu secretly ordered Xu Jingzong to frame Shangguan Yi.

In his previous life, Emperor Gaozong Li Zhi had made every effort to save Shangguan Yi—hoping to issue a general amnesty while Wu was confined after childbirth. Unfortunately, Xu Jingzong rebuffed the edict, claiming the birth of a princess was insufficient reason for such a pardon. Even when the Emperor personally pleaded with Xu, it was to no avail. They argued for three days before Xu reluctantly agreed to sign, but by then, all the male members of Shangguan Yi’s family had already been secretly executed in the imperial prison. All of Li Zhi’s efforts were in vain. Afterward, disheartened, Li Zhi grew increasingly apathetic, and power steadily slipped into Empress Wu’s grasp. Thus, Shangguan Yi’s tragic death marked the critical point when authority shifted rapidly from Emperor Gaozong to Empress Wu.

Li Xian had always admired Shangguan Yi’s talent, both in his previous life and now, yet this was not his main motivation for stepping forward. The real reason was that he did not want to see Empress Wu seize total control of the court too soon. He needed enough time to lay a solid foundation for himself. To employ Li Sheng’s way of thinking: Shangguan Yi did not have to survive, but if he was to die, it could be under a horse’s hooves, from sudden illness, or even by assassination—anything but from the Emperor’s inability to save him. In his previous life, Li Xian had chosen silence as these events unfolded; this time, he refused to stay quiet. In order to change his own wretched fate, Li Xian decided to act, to see if the flutter of a butterfly’s wings might truly stir a storm to reshape his destiny.

Naturally, he was anxious. Watching his father hesitate endlessly without making a decision, Li Xian felt as if his heart were burning. Yet, he dared not venture further advice; his prior volunteering had already aroused the suspicion of his two elder brothers. He did not wish to draw yet more attention and become their target. Moreover, Li Xian understood his father’s temperament well—if he spoke too plainly, it would not help the Emperor make up his mind, but instead frighten him into retreat. That would be counterproductive. Therefore, no matter how impatient he felt, Li Xian could only grit his teeth and wait quietly for Emperor Gaozong’s decision.

“Xian’s words are reasonable. It’s just… what about Minister Xu…” Emperor Gaozong Li Zhi had clearly understood the unspoken implication of Li Xian’s suggestion—circumvent the normal procedures, present a fait accompli, and only then debate the matter in court. At that moment, with Empress Wu in confinement, her supporters would be unable to rely on her intervention. Who would win or lose such a court struggle was truly uncertain. Even if they lost, no one could drag back those already pardoned; imperial dignity must be preserved. In this way, the lives of Shangguan Yi’s family would be spared—at worst, they’d be exiled to the border, forbidden to hold office again. This was a far better outcome than total extermination. It was a clever plan, but Li Zhi’s timidity was ingrained. Even having grasped the crux of the matter, he hesitated to act decisively. After much hemming and hawing, he could only utter a half-hearted response.

Ah, Father, could you possibly be any more timid? What a fine emperor you are, reduced to such a state! Hearing Li Zhi’s words, Li Xian’s heart immediately sank. He wanted to shout, to urge him forward, but no—one rash move could be dismissed as recklessness; twice, and he would be courting death. No matter how bitter his frustration, Li Xian could only suppress it, bowing his head, refusing to meet his father’s bewildered gaze.

Gaozong’s fear of Xu Jingzong was longstanding. This was not only because Xu held the dual positions of Right Chancellor and Minister of the Secretariat, wielding immense power, but also because Xu had Empress Wu—Wu Meiniang herself—standing behind him. Of course, Xu’s own cunning and ruthless nature was another major reason for Gaozong’s apprehension. Xu Jingzong, courtesy name Yanzu, hailed from Xincheng in Hangzhou. Early famed for his literary talent, he passed the talent selection under the Sui dynasty and began his career as a legal clerk in Huaiyang, later serving in the Bureau of Ceremonial Attendants. After his father, Xu Shanxin, was killed by Yuwen Huaji, Xu Jingzong joined Li Mi’s Wagang rebel army as a record keeper. When the Wagang army fell, he surrendered to the Tang. Later, Emperor Taizong, having heard of his reputation, summoned him as a scholar of the Literary Institute. He served successively as Secretariat Drafter, Captain of the Guards, Minister of Rites, and other high offices, gaining fame for his skill in historical writing. In the sixth year of Yonghui, he gained favor by supporting Wu Meiniang’s elevation to Empress, was promoted to Chancellor, and later Right Chancellor. Infamous for his sly and vicious character, he was feared by all officials at court—even Gaozong himself was helpless before him.

“Father, a general amnesty would be a great act of benevolence. It should be enacted without delay. Though I am unworthy, I request permission to visit the Secretariat to facilitate this matter. I beg Your Majesty to grant me this task.” Li Xian’s elder brother Li Xian (the Prince of Yong) had always despised Xu Jingzong. Seeing their father’s hesitation, and inspired by Li Xian’s earlier boldness, he refused to be outdone. He stepped forward and volunteered.

“Well… very well. Since you wish to go, you may. Just be sure not to cause a commotion.” Li Zhi eyed Li Xian, then his other two sons, and after a long pause finally sighed and reluctantly agreed. Still, fearing his son would create trouble, he gave a final word of caution.

“Father, rest assured—I’ll be back soon.” Though only twelve, Li Xian had begun to dabble in statecraft, though always in secret due to his status. Now, with a legitimate pretext, he was elated, never pausing to consider the risks. Clutching the imperial edict, he left the hall with several young eunuchs, hurrying off to the Secretariat.

It was hopeless—utterly hopeless! Watching his brother’s hurried departure, Li Xian dearly hoped for his success, but reason told him this was impossible. Not only would it fail, it would alert their enemies. He wished to offer a warning, but seeing the eunuchs and maids in attendance, wisely swallowed his words.

As expected, Li Xian had barely left before he returned, even before the palace attendants carried out Princess Taiping. Flushed with anger, his young face purple with frustration, it was plain he’d been thoroughly humiliated. Seeing this, Gaozong’s hopeful expression dimmed at once.

“Father, Minister Xu, he… he…” Li Xian, fuming, walked up to the imperial table, slammed the rolled edict down, his face red with rage. He was about to launch into a tirade, but thought better of it and stifled his anger, looking utterly aggrieved.

“Don’t fret, my son. Let me reconsider…” Though Li Xian said nothing, Li Zhi understood at once. Seeing his son so incensed, he could only force a bitter smile and tried to offer comfort. But just then, a crowd of palace maids surrounded a midwife carrying a baby, emerging from the inner chambers. Overcome with paternal affection, the emperor abandoned his unfinished words, leaping to greet them.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty! The little princess weighs six jin and six liang, fair and delicate, born beautiful—unmatched in the world!” The midwife, clearly a master of flattery, bowed deeply as she presented the infant, her mouth gushing praise like a chubby, chattering magpie.

“Hahaha! Good, good! Rewards for all! Let me hold her—quick!” Overflowing with fatherly love, Gaozong forgot all previous troubles. His heart was filled with joy at the sight of his newborn daughter. He eagerly cradled Princess Taiping, beaming so broadly the smile reached his ears.

The three brothers had intended to discuss the edict further, but seeing their father so thoroughly distracted, they knew the matter had slipped from their grasp. Exchanging glances, they could only adjust their moods and join the others in crowding around their newborn sister, playing the part as required. But truthfully, newborns, boy or girl, are always wrinkled and shriveled, resembling tiny old folk—hardly much to look at. The stream of compliments was pure sycophancy, enough to give anyone goosebumps. For Li Xian, already well aware of Princess Taiping’s future, the flattery was doubly grating. Still, this was hardly the time or place to show his true feelings; he mouthed polite words as required, while his thoughts had already drifted far, far away.