In the dim prison cell, a draught from some unknown crevice stirred the heavy cloak of Prince Jin, Li Zhang. It scattered the steam rising from the food and pierced into Bai Lixi's very soul, chilling him to the bone. His family had already been exiled to the miasma-filled lands of the south. Still holding onto his last shred of dignity, Bai Lixi endured day and night in anguish, awaiting Li Zhang's arrival. He yearned for a word of comfort, a gesture of reassurance—some promise from the prince. After all, Bai Lixi believed that he had landed in this dire situation entirely because of Li Zhang.
He had worked tirelessly to ensure the breakdown of the peace negotiations between Tibet and the Tang Empire, so that Li Zhang might solidify his standing within the army. He had even schemed to undermine Li Ce, whose talent was just beginning to show, clearing the path for Li Zhang. Though the title of Crown Prince rightfully belonged to Li Zhang, any additional advantage was worth pursuing—especially when military supplies and provisions were at stake, each worth their weight in gold.
Yet, as Li Zhang now stood before him, there was neither gratitude nor compassion in his expression—only anger. Indeed, in a mere six months since leaving the capital, the commander of the Imperial Guard, Yan Jide, had been exiled, and Bai Lixi himself sentenced to death. Li Zhang had suffered greatly. Proud as he was, he must have thought only fools could have landed him in this prison.
Bai Lixi looked at Li Zhang in silence, the light fading from his eyes as a pall of despair spread across his face. Was all that remained for him now to answer this final question? Then let him give his all.
"No one can block Your Highness's path," Bai Lixi said, his tone deep, the old gleam of courtly strategizing returning to his eyes. "But they each have their merits—ones Your Highness should not overlook."
Li Zhang looked up at his former tutor, tempering his usual arrogance, and gave a slight nod. "Pray, enlighten me."
"His Majesty values Prince Wei's filial piety," Bai Lixi said. "This dynasty is built upon the virtue of filial devotion. Li Chen has long concealed his talents, feigning dullness, yet visits His Majesty daily to pay his respects. He has even taught himself acupuncture and massage to ease the emperor's ailments. If His Majesty should fall gravely ill, Li Chen would surely remain at his side—perhaps even hearing the imperial edict before you do."
A flicker crossed Li Zhang's face. He nodded gravely. "Your counsel is most sound. And what of Li Ce?"
"Prince Chu is exceptionally clever," Bai Lixi replied. "His Majesty has always favored those of sharp wit."
"How clever can he be?" Li Zhang asked dismissively.
"As clever as Your Highness," Bai Lixi answered.
There was a loud bang—something had struck the outer cell door, jarring both the silence and Li Zhang's heart. Bai Lixi had once taught the imperial princes at the Hongwen Institute. Stern and proud, he had never offered praise lightly. Of them all, he had only once commended Li Zhang's intelligence. Li Zhang still remembered: once, after Li Jing had labored for days over a poem praised even by the emperor, Bai Lixi had spared it but a glance before uttering, "Rewrite it." Li Jing had left in tears and never returned to the academy.
Now, for Bai Lixi to praise someone else's intellect—it meant Li Ce was truly brilliant.
Li Zhang took a step back and gave Bai Lixi a respectful nod. "I will remember your words. His Majesty esteems filial piety—I shall ensure he sees mine. He favors Li Ce's cleverness—I shall take care never to act the fool."
A trace of relief softened Bai Lixi's features. This prince, whom he had once admired, possessed the lineage, intellect, and means—yet always seemed to lack something indefinable.
Li Zhang continued, "Though you erred, Teacher, I will see that your family is cared for."
He spoke the words loudly. Bai Lixi's dried eyes immediately brimmed with tears. He stepped forward and cried, "Your Highness, please, do not burden yourself for the sake of this criminal—"
But before he could finish, Li Zhang had already nodded his farewell and turned to leave.
Bai Lixi stood frozen. He had wanted to remind Li Zhang of the influence Li Ce still held in the capital. But as his eyes drifted to the empty cell beside him—once home to his family—he remembered the child delivered into exile by Li Ce himself. His throat tightened, yet the words never left his lips.
Let it be. Li Ce's health is so frail, he could never claim the throne. And besides, Li Zhang walked too fast—there was no calling him back now.
Li Zhang returned home in high spirits. Since his return to the capital, it had felt as though he were enveloped in fog—uncertain of what had gone wrong, uncertain why the emperor had delayed appointing the Crown Prince. He feared he had been implicated by Yan Jide and Bai Lixi.
But now, perhaps it had all been some trivial matter. What mattered now was demonstrating his filial devotion. Since that virtue held weight with His Majesty, then he would become the most filial son of all—more so than Li Chen, more than any of his brothers.
After inquiring about his children's studies and exchanging a few words with the princess consort, Li Zhang made his way to the courtyard of his concubine, Yan Jixue.
She was writing a letter by the window. Upon seeing him, she rose in haste, dropping a sheet of paper in her panic.
"Give it to me," Li Zhang commanded.
Yan Jixue shrank back but gathered her courage, knelt, and handed him the ink-wet letter.
It was her reply to her father. The words scrawled across the page were disorderly but sincere:
"Father, forgive your daughter for disobedience. Now that I am Consort to Prince Jin, my every action must be for his sake."
A faint smile touched Li Zhang's lips. "What did he ask of you?"
"My father…" Yan Jixue hesitated, "He wished me to plead on his behalf. But I cannot. I dare not."
Li Zhang gently blew on the ink until it dried, then handed the letter back. His hand lightly encircled her neck.
"Good girl," he whispered.
Yan Jixue closed her eyes, melting into his arms like a tamed creature.
"Tonight, I will stay with the princess consort," Li Zhang said softly, breathing in her scent. "Be good."
"Mhm," she replied obediently, nodding like a docile little beast.
There were still ten days before the New Year. Li Jing was busy praying to every deity he could find. Buddhist, Taoist, or even obscure local idols in crumbling shrines—he prayed at them all. Not only did he go himself, he dragged Li Ce along too.
Since returning from disaster relief, Li Ce had stepped away from court affairs. Now his time was split between keeping Ye Jiao company and joining his brother's spiritual errands. Mostly, it was when Ye Jiao was busy that Li Ce tagged along—so at least he could see her off when she passed through the city gates.
"General Wu, do I need to be searched?" Li Ce asked, standing by the carriage.
Ye Jiao shot him a look and told him to get out of the way before he caused a blockage.
"General Wu, care to visit Drunken Immortal Tavern?" he teased, lifting the carriage curtain.
Ye Jiao gnawed on her flatbread, took a sip from Bai Xianyu's offered water, and shook her head.
"General Wu, Prince Zhao's carrying contraband—you really ought to search him," Li Ce tried again.
Ye Jiao ignored him, busy signing off for an official leaving the city.
Li Jing watched all this with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
"You're a disgrace to the dignity of Tang's men," he said, shaking his head. "That demoness of yours—who would dare steal her from you?"
"You'd be surprised," Li Ce replied, resting lazily against the carriage window. "This world is full of people who don't fear death."
"You're one of them," Li Jing quipped, leaping from the carriage. "The hour's still early—let's stop by Daxingshan Temple and ask the gods for a blessing."
Li Ce had no choice but to follow.
"Let's pray," he said with a sigh, rallying his energy. "A child of our own would be best—better start early, so Jiao Jiao won't worry."
"She's not worried," Li Jing said, stepping through the temple gates. "She's just stingy."
Daxingshan Temple was a royal monastery, one of the three great translation centers in the capital. Its halls were majestic, the deities solemn, the moss-lined paths pristine, and monks plentiful. After offering prayers in each hall, Li Jing asked to see the abbot.
"The abbot is presently expounding the scriptures," the temple steward said, bowing. "Please, benefactor, wait a moment."