The solitary lamp flickered like a bean, its dim yellow light illuminating the brush stand, inkstone, ink powder, water jar, as well as blank papers and filled-out petitions on the desk.
Li Yuangui sat cross-legged before the desk, brush in his right hand, but the paper scroll in his left palm refused to turn. The three characters "Palace Maid Wei" had flowed effortlessly from his brush, yet the next character stubbornly resisted being written.
The next character was merely "Shi" — a few strokes of the brush would suffice. But what after this character was written? Palace Maid Wei Shi, eldest daughter of Imperial Attendant Wei Zheng, that strong and courageous innocent young woman, had already been inexplicably dragged deep into this disaster by him. How should he phrase it, how should he memorialize to the throne, to best absolve her of blame and allow her to return to the carefree life befitting a chancellor's daughter?
Li Yuangui sighed silently as the ink on his brush tip dried. He set aside brush and paper, rubbing his face vigorously from forehead to chin with both hands, trying to clear his mind.
I don't want this. I can't accept this.
That night when he and Yang Xinzhi were captured outside Purple Void Monastery by Cheng Yaojin's men, they were brought directly here and confined separately. In the moonless darkness, he only knew they'd ascended the city wall and been locked in a room atop the gate tower. At dawn the next day, a glance out the window shocked him profoundly.
He was being detained in the gate tower of Black Tortoise Gate.
Black Tortoise Gate — the northern palace gate, facing the imperial compound to the south while controlling the defensive strongpoints from Western Park all the way to the Wei River area outside the capital. This was also the headquarters of the "Northern Gate Imperial Guards," counterpart to the Southern Bureau Sixteen Guards. Since the Zhenguan era, the Son of Heaven had gradually prioritized the northern forces, with most garrison guards stationed in the forbidden garden barracks while their officers handled military affairs at offices inside and outside Black Tortoise Gate. The duty rooms of northern army commanders like Cheng Yaojin were also located in the Black Tortoise Gate tower, allowing rapid response to emergencies.
Li Yuangui felt he'd been locked in precisely such a duty room. The chamber wasn't large, nor luxuriously furnished, but it was clean and warm. The narrow bed had thick bedding, the desk was supplied with paper, inkstone and oil lamp, and three meals arrived daily in a food box. Most things he requested were provided, though no one dared engage him in casual conversation.
The duty room had a door in its north wall and a window in the south. Looking down through the vertical-barred window revealed a broad open square surrounded by high walls patrolled day and night by guards bearing bows and halberds. Beyond the Gate of Double Mystery in the opposite wall further south lay the imperial harem — with its groves and fragrant grasses, its lake waters, and... the blood his three elder brothers had spilled there nine years earlier.
On his first day of confinement, Li Yuangui stood long at the south window gazing outward. He seemed to see that early morning nine years ago on the fourth day of the sixth month — his second elder brother Prince Qin Shimin leading a group of armored death warriors, bows strung and blades drawn, riding silently through milky mist as they entered Black Tortoise Gate beneath his feet, then galloped across the open square outside his window. The imperial guards on the walls stood motionless as stone statues, watching this band of treasonous rebels enter the palace armed, neither joining nor raising alarm.
As the sun rose higher and the mist gradually dissipated, hoofbeats sounded outside Black Tortoise Gate, accompanied by growing laughter and conversation. His eldest brother Crown Prince Jiancheng and fourth brother Prince Qi Yuanji also arrived with their retinues, similarly armed with bows and blades, striding confidently through the gate, their minds filled with plans to refute Prince Qin's accusations of adultery with Consort Zhang Jie and Consort Yin before the emperor, then counter with charges of treason against their accuser.Then the great treasonous act began. Inside and outside the Black Tortoise Gate, blades clashed and blood splattered. Second Brother Shimin shot an arrow through Eldest Brother Jiancheng's chest, while Fourth Brother Yuanji pinned Second Brother down from his horse in the woods south of the wall, nearly strangling him to death before Yuchi Jingde beheaded him. That day, thousands of soldiers beat war drums and formed battle arrays against each other within and beyond the palace gates. Arrows flew like rain, and pooled blood formed lakes. The rammed-earth walls and brick-paved gateways still bear visible scars today.
Compared to that spectacular scene of fratricide, my reckless actions in the Great Peace Hall were like children playing house, Li Yuangui thought with a bitter smile.
Yet the victor of that day's bloody kin-slaying now sits upon the Supreme Polarity Hall ruling the realm. His own small-scale killings and arson, however, cannot escape accusations of conspiring with foreign enemies to harm the sovereign father... Well, he never truly expected to escape this anyway.
During the escort, Cheng Yaojin had laughed heartily while rambling many words, but upon closer examination, only two points emerged: First, he was acting under imperial decree and hoped Prince Wu wouldn't hold it against him; Second, the Son of Heaven wouldn't mistreat his youngest brother—he should calmly write his confession, detailing every cause and effect without sparing anyone. As long as he truthfully confessed, the Sage Ruler would naturally show mercy.
The detention room was well-stocked with writing materials, so he began. He had long anticipated this day and had discussed the general testimony with Yang Xinzhi, Chai Yingluo, and Wei Shufen. Yet when actually writing, he still hesitated greatly. The main question was: How could he shoulder all responsibility himself while exonerating those three... especially the two women... particularly the most innocent and pure Miss Wei of the Wei family?
Yang Xinzhi had been personally appointed by the emperor as the steward of Prince Wu's estate. Protecting his lord was his duty, and he hadn't even entered the Great Peace Hall that night, so his crimes weren't severe. With his father, the Secretariat Director, secretly shielding him, he needed little consideration. Chai Yingluo's status was special, and she had already secured Empress Zhangsun's protection, so she would likely be absolved too. But that young lady of the Wei family...
His nose involuntarily stung. Li Yuangui pressed his knuckles against his eye sockets, silently reciting in his heart:
I don't want this. I can't accept this.
That young lady—an unmarried maiden—had defied an arranged marriage, confessed to murder, willingly entangled herself in palace intrigues, volunteered for marriage alliance with a vassal state, repeatedly escaped life-and-death situations amid flashing blades, and endured disheveled hair, dirt, wounds, and bloodshed... All notions of propriety, modesty, dignity, or the noble demeanor befitting a chancellor's daughter had long been cast beyond the clouds. Yet now, whenever he recalled her delicate face and bright, intelligent eyes, a sweet yet faintly sour feeling arose in his heart. Joyful affection fermented like fine wine, filling his chest with fragrance.
With just a closed eye, he could see her nestled on the crude, dimly lit earthen bed of that simple farmhouse—her appearance disheveled from the stove fire, yet her limpid dark eyes remained clear and bright, untainted by impurity. She gazed boldly at him, her expression shy and awkward but without disgust or rejection. Her slightly parted lips were soft, moist, and enchantingly rosy, her breath intoxicating.
He hadn't forgotten how, not long ago, Wei Shufen had rejected his marriage proposal before the entire courtyard of the Hall of Established Governance. In the light snowfall, beneath her veiled hat, the girl's gentle yet firm voice still echoed in his ears: "...better to become a walking corpse in the Cheng household..."Even before that moment, he had told her to her face, "I am not worthy to marry you." But in the throes of dark passion, none of that seemed to matter—neither lineage nor promises of the future, neither public opinion nor family honor held any weight. He was simply overjoyed by her very existence, while keenly sensing her affection and attachment toward him.
I want to be with her like this, for this life, and the next.
He understood his own feelings, yet this realization did nothing to aid him in drafting his confession. Rationally, he could not—must not—entangle himself with Wei Shufen in the slightest. He racked his brains to downplay the actions of "the palace attendant Wei," striving to minimize her presence in his written account. Even when she did appear, it was only as an assistant and pawn of the Female Taoist Priest Chai—young, ignorant, reckless, and manipulated. He pleaded for the emperor to send her home and have her parents discipline her strictly...
And then Prime Minister Wei could smoothly sell his daughter to Cheng Yaojin, receiving fifty thousand bolts of silk as betrothal gifts to marry his eldest son to a woman from the foremost noble family of Boling Cui, bringing glory to the clan and envy from the entire court? After enduring such trials, would Wei Shufen temper her fiery nature and obediently become General Cheng's principal wife and Duchess, managing his household? Or would she—
"...Wild geese fly south, leaves yellow and fall. Tao is about to leave the inn, returning forever to his homeland..."
Pushing the paper aside, Li Yuangui leaned on the table with both hands, feeling his heart pound as if it would leap from his chest, tears threatening to spill.
I refuse. I will never accept this.
He hastily gathered the papers he had written, wondering if he could rewrite the story from scratch, altering it to secure a better fate for Wei Shufen. Then he remembered most of the completed confessions had already been taken away—the servants who delivered his meals would simply collect any written papers from his desk without asking. Clearly, this too was General Cheng's order, preventing him from revising his testimony.
The lamp wick dimmed; dawn lightened the window. Between sunrise and sunset, Li Yuangui drifted in a daze, merely eating, sleeping, writing, and obsessing, unaware of how long he had been confined in this small room. The servants refused to speak to him, and his requests to see General Cheng or any official handling his case went unanswered. Eventually, exhausted in body and mind, he stopped speaking, eating, or moving, lying on the narrow bed to stare at the ceiling, thinking it would be better to receive a swift blade than endure this endless wait for death.
The northern door creaked open, footsteps unlike the usual servant's.
Li Yuangui pushed himself up, straining to recognize the visitor before his legs gave way, and he knelt prostrate on the ground:
"Your Majesty."
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