Within the grand palace of the Tang Dynasty, there were seven types of imperial carriages. Today, the Emperor had chosen the lightest among them—a modest, graceful palanquin. The elevated canopy shielded him from the fading rays of the evening sun, the last glimmers dyeing the eaves of the great hall in resplendent gold, casting a stark chiaroscuro of light and shadow.
Ye Jiao followed close behind the palanquin. The Emperor, perched high above, narrowed his eyes as he gazed into the crimson clouds of dusk and suddenly inquired, "Ye Qing, you struck both my sons in a single day. Did you enjoy it?"
His tone was neither light nor heavy, yet it carried enough weight to send a chill through one's soul. Ye Jiao dropped to her knees with a loud thud, her voice trembling, "Your servant has erred."
Hadn't it been the Emperor himself who earlier declared that in warfare, deception reigns supreme—and that their wounds were self-inflicted? Why then did his demeanor change so abruptly?
When the palanquin finally came to a halt, the Emperor was only four or five steps away from her. He turned within the sedan and leaned over with some effort to peer at her, calling, "I told you to follow the palanquin. Why have you lagged behind?"
Ye Jiao had no choice but to rise again and inch forward, her steps timid and uncertain. The Emperor reclined against the cushion, his gaze softened with a clarity that hinted at insight unspoken. With a knowing smile, he mused, "The Prince of Jin has no talent for combat and detests brutish violence. Why then would he challenge you to a sparring match? And when I commanded you to train with the Prince of Wei, you seemed all too delighted. Those punches you threw—were they not a release of fury? You—"
He raised his hand, the luminous jade ring upon his finger tapping gently against her forehead. Ye Jiao instinctively tried to dodge, which only irked him further. "Still trying to evade? You struck my sons, and I can't even vent a little in return?"
She had to lean her head forward again. The jade ring only brushed lightly against her skin before pulling away. With a sigh, he asked, "You're not one to act recklessly. Did all this happen because of Xiao Jiu?"
Xiao Jiu—Prince Chu, Li Ce.
Ye Jiao recalled Li Ce, unconscious for days, his shattered shoulder blade, the fever that refused to break from the swelling bruises. A wave of grievance surged within her, bringing her close to tears. She nodded, intending to confess what had happened at the Round Altar, but the Emperor seemed to divine her thoughts. His expression grew solemn.
"Ye Qing, have you heard of Lord Wenzheng's memorial to Emperor Taizong?"
Lord Wenzheng was the posthumous title of the late Wei Zheng. Ye Jiao pondered briefly, then responded, "Is it the one about the principles of governance?"
The Emperor nodded, then began to recite slowly:
"A sovereign holds the weight of the sacred vessel, dwells at the heart of the realm, rises to a height that rivals the heavens, and bears the hope of everlasting peace. If he fails to ponder danger amid comfort, restrain extravagance with frugality, uphold virtue with depth, and temper desire with discipline—then it is like cutting the roots while expecting the tree to flourish, or damming the spring while wishing the stream to flow."
The palanquin had come to a complete stop. After finishing the verse, the Emperor fell into a moment of reflection. "Since ascending the throne, I've often reread this memorial. Wei Zheng wrote that those in high office must be virtuous and self-restrained. I've found that to be exceedingly difficult. Even I have failed to live up to it."
Ye Jiao promptly bowed and offered, "Your Majesty is a wise ruler."
He smiled faintly and tapped the armrest of the palanquin. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I do not wish to be a ruler who is lenient toward himself and harsh toward others. I shall give a light punishment as a heavy warning. I will not pursue this further. Xiao Jiu is fond of the Book of Songs. Have him recite the poem Chang Di for you. As for the Princes of Jin and Wei, I shall issue my own commands."
As he finished, the Emperor turned slightly. Gao Fu, who had been following at a distance, quickly approached and bowed to receive the order.
"Give the Double Dragon Token to Ye Qing and have her deliver it to Prince Chu. From this day forward, he may enter and exit the palace freely and present his counsel directly. If there is any further grievance, I will see to it myself."
Except during court assembly, both princes and officials required the Chancellor's approval to request an audience. With this token, Li Ce would be granted unfettered access to the palace and could frequently visit his mother.
Eyes brimming with tears, Ye Jiao knelt and expressed her gratitude.
Feigning sternness, the Emperor added, "Tell him this privilege was granted at your behest. The evening chill deepens—return swiftly. Xiao Jiu doesn't talk much, but he's impatient by nature. If he waits too long and charges the palace gates, I fear the guards might knock him unconscious."
With a body like his, trying to shoulder the rafters—he's like a praying mantis trying to stop a cart, or an ant shaking a tree, utterly unaware of his own limits. The Emperor gently stroked his beard, thinking no words could fully capture his son's foolish gall.
The palanquin departed. Gao Fu helped Ye Jiao up, and she took the token. From her sleeve, she produced a silver ingot and discreetly placed it into his arms.
"Oh, this is too much…" Gao Fu protested.
Ye Jiao smiled. "I don't know why, but I've always felt you were especially kind. The weather's still cold—this is but a token of warmth."
Gao Fu finally accepted it and said meaningfully, "The more His Majesty favors Prince Chu, the more cautious the Marquis of Wu must become."
More favored—yet greater the danger. The words seemed contradictory, but mirrored what Fu Mingzhu had once warned her.
Ye Jiao nodded, and Gao Fu turned to follow the imperial retinue. Night had fallen upon the palace, and candles flickered to life in every hall, their glow reflecting the stars above.
Ye Jiao gazed at the Emperor's departing figure. He seemed both all-knowing and utterly oblivious; as though he had said nothing, yet revealed everything. Was this the inscrutable heart of a sovereign?
Why had he asked Li Ce to recite Chang Di?
That question lingered in her mind until she stood outside the palace gates and saw Li Ce.
"There's a line everyone knows," he said softly in the carriage as they rode home. He clutched the Double Dragon Token tightly, eyes dim with suppressed emotion.
"Which line?" she asked.
Lighting the candle inside the carriage, the flame casting soft warmth across his handsome features, Li Ce recited gently:
"Should danger arise, brothers will unite.When friends are plenty, deep sighs dissipate.Though brothers quarrel within the walls,Together they defend against foreign foes."
Even amidst discord at home, brothers must join hands against threats from without.
Ye Jiao sighed softly. "So His Majesty knows everything, but cannot bear to see fraternal bloodshed. He mentioned Emperor Taizong and Wei Zheng—I began to suspect as much."
Taizong and Wei Zheng's tale was more than that of a wise ruler and loyal subject. Some histories, however, remain taboo—unspoken, unwritten.
"Or perhaps he doesn't know," Li Ce said, the tension on his face easing into a reluctant smile. "Perhaps he merely guessed."
He stared at the token in his hand, words of gratitude forming but never spoken. His head lowered, eyes shimmering with silent sorrow.
"This is a gift from His Majesty," Ye Jiao said gently, nudging his knee with hers until he swayed slightly, teasing, "You know, your brothers are rather weak. Not one of them can fight."
"Fool," Li Ce pulled her into his embrace. "They don't need to fight. They have guards, assassins, even the imperial army. If they wish to kill or burn, it's all too easily done. But my foolish little Jiao—she throws punches for me, bears wounds for me. That pains me more than I can say."
"Well, I've already done it…" she mumbled in his arms. "The anger is spent, I've secured the token, and I've shown them we are not to be trifled with."
"Good," Li Ce murmured. "From now on, let me handle everything."
He should be the one—he is the man. These burdens are his to bear.
As their carriage turned from the Imperial Avenue, a figure emerged beneath the Danfeng Tower. The deputy commander of the imperial guards stood silently, listening to his subordinate's report. A spring breeze stirred his robes, revealing beneath the official uniform a hidden inner sleeve—embroidered with a single peach blossom.
"She's still the same," Yan Congzheng murmured to himself. "Free-spirited, doing whatever her heart desires, unrestrained and unbound."
Such freedom—how rare, how precious.
Prince Wei, Li Chen, returned home bloodied and staggering. Without a word, he went straight to his bedchamber, collapsing onto the couch before finally instructing his servant to summon the physician.
The palace doctor diagnosed his ear injury as minor—though it would leave a faint scar. The true damage, however, lay deeper within…