Chapter 4 – Li Chonghua

Chapter 4 – Li Chonghua

The Children’s Pavilion gathered worthy and talented scholars to educate the sons of court officials. In truth, it served to cultivate a core following for Zhan Changfeng, so every afternoon she would set aside one hour to go to the Children’s Pavilion, attend lessons together with the sons of various officials, and foster camaraderie.

On this particular day, a new person arrived at the Children’s Pavilion — a nine-year-old child with clear, pure eyes who forced himself to appear calm as he bowed respectfully to his teachers and greeted his classmates. The atmosphere was pleasant and harmonious.

When Zhan Changfeng arrived that afternoon and everyone had paid their respects, one person stepped forward from the group. “Li Chonghua, son of Li Mao, kneels in greeting before His Highness the Crown Prince.”

Li Chonghua — youngest son of the Duke of An, and also Li Yunqiu’s nephew.

Zhan Changfeng offered a few measured words of concern, then sat down to listen to the lesson. The pace of the Children’s Pavilion was far too slow for her, and what was being taught was not at the same level she was used to. She treated it as a respite from the heavy coursework of the Hall of Statecraft.

The last rays of the setting sun cast a warm, amber glow along the edges of the window frames.

The teacher assigned some coursework, then bowed respectfully toward Zhan Changfeng. Zhan Changfeng rose along with all the other students, hands at their sides and heads lowered, to see the teacher off.

“Your Highness, please take care not to catch a chill.”

Half a year had come and gone, and winter had returned. The head steward unfurled a silver fox brocade cloak and draped it over her shoulders. “The Lady requests Your Highness’s presence at Yongxiu Palace for dinner.”

Zhan Changfeng resided in the Eastern Palace’s Weiyangcourt. Li Yunqiu did not live with her; instead, as the Crown Prince’s birth mother, she resided in Yongxiu Palace.

A messenger had also come from Yongxiu Palace to invite Li Chonghua, who had just stepped out the door.

The head steward bowed and inquired, “Would Your Highness like to travel together with Young Master Li?”

Li Chonghua looked over, his expression carrying a somewhat pitiful, longing look.

“I have matters to attend to first. I will go when the dinner hour arrives.” Zhan Changfeng glanced between the steward and Li Chonghua’s faces, then boarded her palanquin.

The Scripture Repository held eight hundred years of the Yin Dynasty’s history and three thousand years of the Central Plains’ civilization — it was a place of utmost national importance.

Apart from the old Emperor and herself, no one else was permitted to peruse the ancient texts within.

She walked in alone. Towering bookshelves and wooden cabinets that reached the ceiling blocked the windows, with only occasional beams of light filtering through, carrying floating motes of dust.

The air was thick with the aged, inky fragrance unique to old paper. Tens of thousands of classic texts surrounded her like a vast and boundless sea of mist, making one feel instinctively small.

She climbed a narrow ladder upward, then turned along a corridor suspended in the air like a plank walkway, arriving before a particular bookshelf. She undid a hidden latch and entered a secret chamber.

This secret chamber contained the hidden secrets of every dynasty and era across the Central Plains — secrets only the Son of Heaven was meant to know.

Each secret was enough to overturn history and cause upheaval.

The old Emperor, fearing his days were numbered, had told her about this place early on.

Yet this was her first time coming here.

That mountain weighed upon her heart, making it impossible to ignore. For such a mysterious and uncanny matter, perhaps only this place could give her an answer.

Night-luminescent pearls were set into the walls of the secret chamber, making it as bright as day. She sat on a meditation cushion and read through those unknown secrets, not leaving until the sky had fully darkened.

The cold shattered the heaviness in her heart. Zhan Changfeng turned back to look at the Scripture Repository standing silently in the darkness, then lowered her gaze once more. A snowflake melted between her fingers.

Yongxiu Palace.

The palace-robed beauty was elegant and aloof, her gaze shifting slightly to the side — like a lotus in the snow atop a mountain peak gently caressed by the wind, carrying with it a hint of spring warmth.

Zhan Changfeng rarely saw her mother this gentle. Even toward her, there was more sternness than tenderness.

She glanced at Li Chonghua — undoubtedly, it was he who had managed to bring a smile to her mother’s face.

Her arrival caused the previously warm and tender atmosphere to falter. Li Chonghua straightened up stiffly from the chaise lounge. “Greetings to His Highness the Crown Prince.”

Zhan Changfeng gave a slight nod and paid her respects to Li Yunqiu.

“Your Highness, come sit here.”

Li Yunqiu never called her by her given name or courtesy name, even though it was she who had chosen the courtesy name.

After asking about her studies as was customary, Li Yunqiu said, “It is time for you to choose a study companion as well. Let Chonghua take up the role — he is close to your age, and he is your cousin. One’s own family is more trustworthy.”

“To my knowledge, he and I were born in the same year on the same day, and the difference in birth hours is negligible. It is not yet certain who is older.”

Zhan Changfeng possessed something of an imperial sovereign’s temperament and could not agree with the notion of “one’s own family,” so she casually refuted the remark.

But seeing the cool expression that settled over Li Yunqiu’s face, she felt a measure of helplessness. Perhaps due to her own personality and status, the relationship between mother and daughter had always been more respectful than intimate.

Sometimes Zhan Changfeng felt guilty. The palace was so vast and so deep. Her mother had lived alone for so many years, with no one close to her by her side — how lonely that must have been.

It was a pity that she could not bring her mother joy simply by being at her side, nor could she make her happy.

Zhan Changfeng chose to relent. “Tomorrow I will recommend Li Chonghua to my imperial grandfather.”

The matter of who would fill the position of the Crown Prince’s study companion was no small affair. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, whoever held this role would one day go everywhere with her and become one of her most trusted and important ministers.

The palace attendants came to announce dinner. There were not many dishes, and they leaned toward home-style cooking. Li Yunqiu’s senior handmaiden spoke at just the right moment, “All of these were personally prepared by the Lady to suit Your Highness’s palate.”

Zhan Changfeng was slightly surprised, and her heart softened a fraction. “Thank you, Mother, for your trouble.”

Li Yunqiu looked at the two children — one composed and at ease, of exceptional nobility; the other not knowing where to put his hands and feet, his large eyes peering timidly at her.

She furrowed her brow almost imperceptibly. “Let us eat.”

The Official Road.

Mei Yichi, having taken on the appearance of Yi Shang, had been traveling with Ling Huaizhi away from Xifeng City for ten days now, covering one-ninth of the journey.

At first, Mei Yichi had ridden on horseback, but later Ling Huaizhi procured a carriage and insisted he ride inside it.

“How could this humble servant allow Your Highness to brave the wind and sun?” Ling Huaizhi had said at the time, a look of indescribable smugness in his eyes.

It was only when Mei Yichi heard the accompanying guards praising Young Master Ling’s thoughtfulness and consideration that he began to understand somewhat.

The wheels rolled on. Mei Yichi lifted the curtain and saw corpses half-buried in snow by the roadside, stretching on without end.

“Imperial Princess, is something the matter?” Ling Huaizhi rode his horse closer.

“Many people have died.”

“Indeed.” Ling Huaizhi echoed with a couple of murmurs, showing no particular surprise.

A group of refugees burst out from the forest. Clad in ragged, tattered clothing and wielding shovels and wooden clubs, their bodies shaking from the bitter cold, they stared at the richly dressed Ling Huaizhi and his party with feral, glinting eyes. When their gazes swept over the sturdy horses, their throats bobbed with a swallow.

“Leave behind your money and horses, or don’t blame us for killing without mercy!”

Ling Huaizhi stopped Mei Yichi, who had been about to step out of the carriage. “They are just a rabble — nothing to worry about. Your Highness, simply rest easy and stay put.”

Mei Yichi had cultivated the Dao for a thousand years. He did not involve himself in worldly karmic entanglements and did not concern himself with the affairs of the mortal world. His impulse to step out of the carriage and stop the conflict had come only from thinking of his role as Yi Shang.

Since Ling Huaizhi would not let him move, he did not press the matter, and simply sat quietly inside the carriage waiting for it to end.

The refugees were indeed no match in a fight, but they were numerous, and for the sake of food, every one of them fought desperately, injuring quite a few of the guards.

Moreover, since the war on Yi Shang’s side was pressing, there were no soldiers to spare for an escort. Only a dozen or so men had been assigned to serve as guards.

As a result, the losses among the guard contingent were rather significant.

Mei Yichi watched the triumphant delight on Ling Huaizhi’s face, deeply puzzled. “If I had acted, I alone could have dealt with them. Why did you not let me go out?”

Ling Huaizhi’s expression froze, and his surging enthusiasm abruptly turned to ice.

Mortals are truly strange, Mei Yichi thought, lowering the curtain and beginning to recite the Sutra of Rebirth.

Those who died in times of war were mostly victims of wrongful death. Having endured untold suffering in life, they easily left behind lingering obsessions in the mortal world, giving rise to evil spirits and ghosts that disturbed the balance of heaven and earth — they could not be left unattended.

(End of Chapter)