Chapter Fifty-Four: A Necessary Lesson (Part Four)

Lin Qi! So it really is that old fox. Heh, Sixth Brother really couldn’t wait a moment longer! With a single glance, Li Xian saw that the one stepping forward was Lin Qi, and he let out a cold, silent sneer, his displeasure rising at once. Of course, it wasn’t entirely out of dislike for Lin Qi himself; more of it was directed at his master, Li Xian’s own brother, Li Xian. Li Xian was bound to oppose the Crown Prince, seeking to assert his own presence—this was only to be expected, and Li Xian had no objections to that. The problem was that Li Xian ought not to have acted rashly without so much as a word of consultation. If he had chosen his moment wisely, so be it; but the man was all clever looks and a foolish gut, stubbornly refusing to walk the golden road Li Xian had paved for him, instead picking his own thorn-strewn, winding path. If he were the sole one to suffer, that would be one thing, but now Li Xian had to bear the consequences as well, and that was something Li Xian most certainly did not wish to see.

“Oh? Does Censor Lin have a different opinion? I’d like to hear it—I’m quite curious, in fact.” The moment Lin Qi stepped forward, it wasn’t only Li Xian who was annoyed; Li Hong was equally displeased. Though he didn’t go so far as to show it on his face, his words made his discontent clear—he did not even bother with the affectionate address of “Beloved Minister,” but called Lin Qi by his official title directly.

“I wouldn’t dare. I merely have a humble opinion to offer. The character ‘Mu’ signifies grandeur and dignity, and is reserved for men of great virtue and wisdom; it was borne by figures such as Duke Mu of Qin, Duke Mu of Zheng, and Duke Mu of Song—all eminent men of a past age. Though the late Lord Shangguan served under three reigns and rendered meritorious service to the state, he is yet far from those ancient paragons. To bestow the posthumous title ‘Mu’ would be excessive. If, instead, the character ‘Zhi’ were used, it would be more fitting. I beseech Your Highness to judge wisely.” Lin Qi was no fool, and of course he heard the pointedness in the Crown Prince’s words. But he had come fully prepared, intending to engage in a public debate with the Crown Prince, and so he cared little for whether the prince was angered. With righteous airs, he launched into a long and sonorous speech, appearing wholly motivated by the public good.

“May I ask, Censor Lin, what is the reasoning behind the character ‘Zhi’? I confess I fail to understand—pray enlighten me!” As soon as Lin Qi finished speaking, Li Xian, seated in front of the dais, stood up, his face stern, and questioned him bluntly.

All the ministers in court knew that Li Xian had lately grown close to Li Xian, and not long ago, the two brothers had raised quite a commotion in the imperial prison together. Everyone assumed the two princes were allies, but now Li Xian’s tone was not that of an ally, but more like someone interrogating an opponent. All were taken aback, and the hall immediately buzzed with speculation, the uproar growing quite loud.

Lin Qi clearly hadn’t expected Li Xian to show him so little respect, even to the point of publicly confronting him. For a moment, he was inwardly flustered—Lin Qi had always thought highly of himself, believing he was an indispensable confidant to Prince Lu, Li Xian. Even though Li Xian was a prince, Lin Qi didn’t see him as particularly important. The last time Li Xian had egged Li Xian on to make a scene in the imperial prison without consulting him, Lin Qi had felt deeply dissatisfied, convinced that Li Xian was exploiting Li Xian for his own ends, and attributing Li Xian’s being sent to his fief to Li Xian’s machinations. He had complained about Li Xian in private no end. Upon learning that he was now to act at Li Xian’s command, his discontent only grew. Moreover, the Duke of Zhou’s household was not favored by Li Xian, which made him all the more resentful. Thus, he wrote to Qizhou, urging Li Xian to strike early, claiming that doing so would maximize their advantage. Whatever Li Xian’s reasoning, he ultimately agreed, leading to Lin Qi joining forces with Prince Lu’s officials to submit a memorial. In Lin Qi’s eyes, Li Xian was still young and inexperienced, merely a junior clinging to Li Xian’s coattails, and though he was angry, he didn’t expect Li Xian would dare to create a scene before the whole court. But to his surprise, Li Xian did exactly that. Lin Qi felt as if he’d kicked a steel wall, and for a moment he was left dumbstruck. Fortunately, the noisy chatter of the assembled ministers gave him cover for his hesitation.

“Censor Lin, please answer my question!” Respect is something others grant you; dignity is something you lose yourself. To a petty character like Lin Qi, Li Xian had no intention of letting him off lightly. Without waiting for him to recover, Li Xian gave another cold snort and pressed him again.

“Ah, yes, Your Highness. The character ‘Zhi’ means uprightness, impartiality, and integrity. It is an honorific. During Lord Shangguan’s days at court, he acted justly and fairly; to call him an upright minister is entirely appropriate.” With Li Xian’s second prompt, Lin Qi quickly regained his composure and hastily explained, speaking with apparent confidence. After all, the title “upright minister” was indeed an honor; Lin Qi’s purpose in proposing this posthumous title was not to disparage Shangguan Yi, but to contend with the Crown Prince in court. In his mind, so long as he could spar with the Crown Prince, it would suffice to assert the presence of Prince Lu’s faction and perhaps curry favor with the Empress.

“Oh, I see. So, Censor Lin, you greatly admire the integrity of the late Lord Shangguan, do you? I haven’t misunderstood, have I?” As soon as Lin Qi finished, Li Xian feigned sudden enlightenment and spoke up.

“Ah, this, this—of course, of course.”

Seeing Li Xian’s expression, Lin Qi’s heart skipped a beat, and a sense of foreboding arose within him. He wished he could avoid replying, but under these circumstances, he had no choice but to force a laugh and mumble a vague response.

“Very well. Censor Lin, if you wish to emulate Lord Shangguan as an upright minister, that is commendable indeed. I am quite moved—very good, very good.” Li Xian nodded approvingly and praised Lin Qi several times. But in this context, the words took on a strange tone. After all, everyone in court knew why Shangguan Yi had truly been exiled. To say Lin Qi wanted to follow in Shangguan Yi’s footsteps was tantamount to saying he planned to oppose the Empress as well.

“This, this…” Though Lin Qi’s political acumen was not especially high, he was no fool. Hearing Li Xian’s ambiguous words, he was left tongue-tied, unable to string together a coherent reply.

“Elder Brother Crown Prince,” Li Xian said, “this humble prince believes that Minister Liu’s view is most reasonable, and Censor Lin’s argument is not without merit either. Since this is so, to force a decision here and now seems unseemly. Why not record both opinions in the memorial and submit them to the Emperor for judgement?” Li Xian turned with a flourish, bowed to Li Hong and offered this suggestion.

“Hm?” Li Hong had been enjoying the spectacle, but now, hearing Li Xian propose to hand the dispute up for imperial decision, he was momentarily taken aback. Then, seeing Li Xian’s restless eyes signaling him, he realized Li Xian’s true intent—the precise posthumous title for Shangguan Yi was unimportant; what mattered was timing. As long as the title was honorific, that sufficed. So long as the memorial was submitted before the Emperor issued an edict, it would be enough to put the Empress in a difficult position. Given that, there was no point wasting time debating with Lin Qi; it was better to pass the buck upward. In this way, the trouble would fall to the Empress, because the posthumous title Lin Qi proposed would also displease her. Clearly, this maneuver severely undercut Li Xian’s plan to curry favor with the Empress by stirring up controversy. After all, what use was a prince who could not check the Crown Prince’s power in court?

“Seventh Brother is quite right—let it be so. Minister Liu, what say you?” Li Hong, having grasped the key to the matter, smiled and voiced his approval, then turned to Liu Xiangdao, asking his opinion with a smile.

“Your Highness is wise. This old minister has no objection. There’s no time to lose; I will record the details of this debate and swiftly submit the memorial to His Majesty for a decision.” Liu Xiangdao was a seasoned official, quick-witted and had understood the crux of the matter even before Li Hong. Now, being asked his opinion, he was inwardly delighted and struggled to keep from showing it, answering with utmost deference and tightening the noose around Lin Qi’s neck a little more.

“My thanks, Minister Liu.” Li Hong thanked Liu Xiangdao, then ignored the awkward Lin Qi and surveyed the assembled ministers, asking earnestly, “Gentlemen, this is how we shall proceed. Do any of you have further objections?”

“Your Highness is wise!” With Li Hong having set the tone, what could the ministers say? Even those allied to the Empress, though displeased, dared not contradict the Crown Prince in her absence. So, aside from bowing and offering praise, there was nothing more to be said.

“Very well, the matter is settled. You are all dismissed.”

Seeing that no one objected, Li Hong was intent on leaving no room for reversal. With a cheerful smile, he stood and declared the matter settled, then withdrew to the inner hall. With him gone, the ministers could do nothing but bow and take their leave as well, dispersing in small groups. Thus, a debate that could have been a fierce battle of words dissipated before it even began.

“Your Highness, please wait!” When the ministers had all gone, Li Xian saw no reason to linger in the Eastern Palace. He followed the departing crowd, exchanged a few words with several senior officials, and headed for his carriage. But before he could reach it, a voice called out behind him.

“Oh, it’s Censor Lin. What is it?” Turning, Li Xian saw Lin Qi hurrying over, the corners of his mouth lifting in a mocking smile as he asked indifferently.

“Your Highness, this humble official, I—” By now, Lin Qi knew full well he had brought disaster upon himself. Once the memorial from the Crown Prince reached the Empress, there would be nothing but trouble for him. He wanted to beg Li Xian for help, but did not know how to begin. His lips twitched for quite a while, but no words came.

“Ah, I must hurry back to the manor for martial practice. If you have business, Censor Lin, let us discuss it another time.” Li Xian had intended from the start to use Lin Qi as a lesson for Li Xian, and had not the slightest intention of helping him. Seeing Lin Qi so flustered, Li Xian was secretly delighted and, looking up at the sky, laughed it off. He paid no heed to Lin Qi’s darkening expression, but bent to climb into his carriage, let the curtain fall, and isolated himself from the world.

“Ah!” Watching Li Xian’s carriage roll away, Lin Qi’s face turned ashen. He stood dumbstruck on the square before the palace gate for a long while, then threw his head back and let out a long sigh, full of regret and dejection…