Chapter Ten

Li Chengqi steadily took the teacup, set it on the small table beside him, and said, “Thank you.”

When I went to hand him the tea, he suddenly said, “Princess, did you change your perfume today?” I paused for a moment before I understood what Li Longji meant, and gave him an embarrassed smile. “Prince, you have a good memory.”

He replied, “This scent is distinctive, so of course I noticed.”

I thanked him perfunctorily, lifted the cup, and took a sip—only to realize too late that it had been brewed with boiling water. The tip of my tongue was scalded numb.

Just as we were about to get out of the carriage, Li Longji picked up a black robe and a hood from beside him. He smiled and said, “If you want to make a grand entrance and have everyone bow to you, wear your scarlet robe. If not, put this on, cover your face with the hood, and stroll in with us as you please.”

I naturally understood his meaning. The Guozijian was, after all, a place frequented only by men. Even if I entered under an imperial decree, it would turn into a procession with people bowing at every step, making it impossible to enjoy. Without hesitation, I quickly took off my outer robe, put on the one he handed me, and pulled the hood low to cover most of my face.

Fortunately, it was winter—otherwise, it would have been difficult to conceal myself.

The robe was long enough to cover my shoes; as long as I was careful, no one would pay much attention.

By the time I finished changing, the carriage had already arrived at the gate of the Guozijian. The attendants presented the token and remained outside by the carriage.

Li Chengqi led the two of us inside, explaining things as we walked. Li Longji listened attentively.

They had just reached the side of a pavilion when they heard several students inside arguing loudly. All of them insisted that Luoyang had long surpassed Chang’an and should therefore take the central position and govern the realm. Li Chengqi paused to listen, nodding occasionally, but Li Longji’s expression darkened. His temper flared, and after only a few sentences, he stepped forward to join the debate.

Seeing this, I couldn’t help but worry. “The prince is still young,” I said. “If he says something inappropriate and it reaches the Emperor, won’t that cause trouble?”

Li Chengqi shook his head with a smile. “Let him speak for now. If he says anything improper, we’ll stop him.”

I nodded and listened closely to the discussion. Because the three of us were dressed in plain clothes, the students did not recognize Li Longji. Seeing a half-grown boy suddenly speak up, they were surprised, regarding him with amused curiosity. But after hearing him speak for a few sentences, their expressions turned serious, and soon they were discussing everything with him—from military affairs to commerce and agriculture—leaving no topic untouched.

Li Chengqi stood beneath a tree, watching him the entire time, a faint smile in his eyes.

“Speaking of geography, Luoyang connects northward to Youyan, westward to Qinlong, eastward to Haidai, and southward to Jianghuai, making it well-positioned to oversee the realm. In terms of military strategy and governance, Luoyang can indeed control the Three Rivers and secure the Four Passes.”

Li Longji bowed slightly from a distance and continued, “That is why His Majesty values Luoyang so highly. But Chang’an has been the capital since the Western Zhou, through twelve dynasties, and has long been the focus of the people’s loyalty. It is not merely about occupying territory—only by making Chang’an the center can the people’s hearts truly be pacified and the four seas united in homage!”

The young boy’s spirit surged like a beam of sunlight breaking through clouds, dazzling to behold.

The students were struck dumb, all left speechless.

At that moment, the crowd around the pavilion quietly parted, and everyone bowed respectfully. An elderly man stepped forward, stroking his beard with a faint smile. “This young man’s words,” he said, “are remarkably like someone from a few years ago—just as young and bold, and with the same extraordinary insight.”

Seeing everyone bow to him, I guessed he must be a highly respected scholar.

Li Longji raised his sleeve and said, “You flatter me, sir. I wonder whom you refer to as ‘that person’?” He bowed formally, looking every bit like a diligent student.

The old gentleman replied, “The Prince of Yong’an. Back then, he was only a little older than you. He didn’t speak much, but his words always struck the point.” He paused, recalling the past, then smiled and sighed softly. “Chang’an—the ‘long peace and stability’ of the realm.”

When the students heard the name Prince of Yong’an, they murmured among themselves, their voices filled with admiration.

I too turned those words over in my heart. Separate the characters, and one could argue victory or defeat. As Li Longji had said, the idea of a capital had long transcended mere geography. In the hearts of the people, those four characters—“long peace and stability”—were enough.

Li Longji suddenly smiled, glanced at everyone, and said lightly, “I’ve long heard of the Prince of Yong’an’s reputation. Indeed, he gets straight to the point—saves me from my long-winded explanations.”

The old man said, “Young sir, would you be willing to walk with me and talk further?”

The crowd erupted in excitement. Though I did not know the old man’s identity, their reaction made me feel delighted for Li Longji. An eight-year-old child—first out-arguing scholars, and now, even while concealing his identity, gaining the favor of a master of the Imperial Academy…

Li Longji’s face lit up with joy. “This student is unworthy of such kindness.” He turned to Li Chengqi and said, “Brother, you two go ahead. I’ll come find you later.”

After Li Chengqi nodded, he immediately stepped down from the pavilion, gave the elder a respectful bow, and followed him away.

Once everyone had dispersed, Li Chengqi looked at me and asked, “The Chongwen Pavilion is closing soon. Do you still want to take a look?”

I nodded. “I’ve often heard that the Chongwen Pavilion houses all the classics in the world. Since we have the chance, of course we should go.”

The Chongwen Pavilion stood alone within a grove of ancient pines, quieter than the other academies. An elderly gatekeeper stepped forward to block our path, but upon seeing Li Chengqi’s jade token, he bowed silently and let us in.

The room carried the faint scent of pine and bamboo. No candles were lit, and with the overcast sky, the light inside was dim.

Li Chengqi seemed very familiar with the place. He led me up to the second floor, passed several rows of old bookshelves, then took down a scroll and handed it to me.

“This is Ouyang Xun’s rubbing of the ‘Preface to the Orchid Pavilion.’ If you’re interested, you may take it back to Taichu Palace to study.”

I took the scroll, untied the red cord, and unrolled it. It was indeed the Lantingji Xu. A thrill ran through me. “Thank you, Prince.”

He smiled faintly. “You can take off your hood here.”

I quickly set the scroll aside and reached up to remove the hood. But as I loosened the ties, the jade hairpin slipped from my hair and fell to the floor, snapping cleanly into two with a crisp sound.

My heart skipped. I silently blamed my own carelessness. Before I could react, he had already picked up the two broken pieces. After a moment’s pause, he asked softly, “Have you heard the story behind this jade hairpin?”

I gave a soft hum in response.

When Emperor Wu of the Western Han favored Lady Li, he once removed the jade hairpin from her hair to scratch an itch. When her hair came loose, her dark locks fell freely, making her appear even more delicate and alluring, which only deepened the Emperor’s affection. From then on, palace women imitated this gesture, and the jade hairpin came to be known as a “hair-scratcher.”

The story was somewhat exaggerated, but no one minded. What truly endured was the longing of palace women for imperial favor.

He did not reply immediately. Thinking of that romantic tale, I grew increasingly embarrassed and could only fiddle with the red cord in my hands.

After a while, he said, “Thank you.”

I looked at him in confusion. “Prince, what are you thanking me for?”

He smiled broadly. “For helping Longji avoid trouble the other day.”

Only then did I understand. Lowering my voice, I said, “I was just passing by and saw the young prince confronting someone at the palace gate. I thought to offer a few words of comfort. It was nothing deliberate.”

He looked down at me. “Wearing a palace maid’s robe and appearing again at Fengyang Gate—calling that accidental is a bit far-fetched.”

Realizing he had seen through me, my face warmed slightly. After a long silence, I said, “Someone deliberately hinted at it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been clever enough to guess the time and place.”

He fell silent for a moment, then sighed softly. “I know. It was Prince Liang who set the trap.”

Hearing that, I was startled. “If you knew, why did you let it happen?”

He looked at me calmly. “I’ve known about it for some time. Even if it’s a trap, we already have countermeasures. If he wants to act, let him. He may try to drag us into danger, but the one who truly decides our lives and deaths is the Emperor.”

His words were veiled, but the meaning was clear. Their fate depended entirely on the Emperor’s favor. If he cared for them, even grave crimes would be forgiven. If he did not, even the smallest mistake could cost them their lives.

I had always known the precarious position of the Li clan’s descendants, but only now did I truly understand what it meant to be fish laid out on a chopping block.

And the one holding the knife was my own grandmother, while the chopping block was the dragon throne.

“I had a plan to deal with it,” he continued, watching me calmly. “But I didn’t expect you to appear that day. Since Prince Liang told you about it, he must already know about your relationship with me.”

I gave a quiet “hm.” The anxiety I had just suppressed surged up again. In truth, we had only met a few times. That so-called “relationship” had merely been an act for Wan’er…

He handed me the half of the jade hairpin adorned with the green phoenix. “I’ve kept the other half. Since you risked yourself to help Longji, if there is ever anything I can do for you, I will do my utmost.”

I took the jade piece, holding it in my hand, unsure what to say.

Just then, a sudden sound echoed from deeper within the loft—a book falling.

I froze and looked at him. He gestured for silence.

Before he could turn to investigate, footsteps approached from the direction of the sound. A boy’s face suddenly appeared from behind a bookshelf. He studied the two of us for a moment, then broke into a grin.

“Brother Li!”

Li Chengqi nodded. “Hiding here to read again?”

The boy stepped out, ruffling his hair and yawning. “There are so many books in this pavilion—of course one must sacrifice sleep to enjoy them properly.”

He walked a few steps forward, then stopped, staring at me with bright, almost piercing eyes.

His gaze made me deeply uncomfortable. Just as I didn’t know how to respond, he suddenly said, “This must be sister-in-law? To flirt in the Chongwen Pavilion of the Imperial Academy—truly unconventional, truly unconventional. I am Zhang Jiuling. Greetings, sister-in-law.”

As he spoke, he lifted his sleeve and gave a grand, formal bow.