Chapter One: A Slap to Empress Wu Zetian’s Face

"Crown Prince, Crown Prince..." Several clear voices rang out, bright and crisp, yet tinged with the accent of the Hakka dialect.

Li Wei startled awake.

"Crown Prince, you nearly frightened this servant to death."

Crown Prince? Li Wei gazed blankly at the scene before him. The first thing that caught his eye was the layers of pristine white gauze curtains, overlapping one another, with peony motifs delicately woven into the fabric. The curtains had been drawn up, and at the bedside stood a young maiden with refined features, dressed in a palace gown with a red undergarment. Half her snow-white bosom was exposed—not voluptuous, but just enough to fill a hand. Paired with her gentle countenance, she exuded the fresh charm of a girl-next-door.

Behind the maiden were elegant and luxurious furnishings, though their style was somewhat peculiar. For example, there were low, wide stools—if he remembered correctly, these were called "barbarian beds." A finely crafted, not overly tall table stood nearby, upon which sat some unusual porcelain: a white-glazed vase with twin dragon handles. It was not pure white—an untrained eye might call it yellow-glazed. Two slender handles arched to the mouth of the vase, ending in simple dragon heads.

Ancient times? Was he acting in a film? Li Wei's mind reeled with confusion.

"The Crown Prince has only caught a chill," said the imperial physician. "Take care not to be caught in the rain next time."

Li Wei then noticed an elderly man with snowy hair standing beside him, and behind him, two young men in brocade robes, each holding a horsetail whisk.

"I'll prescribe a few medicines," the physician said, picking up a brush and writing a few elegant lines. One of the young men took the prescription and left at once.

Bowing, the physician said, "Your Highness, I take my leave."

Li Wei hesitated, glancing around the room. It was enormous; the beams were over ten meters above the ground, let alone the roof. The decor was not ostentatious, yet the air was thick with opulence—even the beams and columns were carved with coiling golden dragons. This was surely a palace. Looking again, apart from a few eunuchs, he saw no cameras. Could it be that something so absurd had happened—he had transmigrated? And into the Crown Prince, no less—the emperor was supreme, but the Crown Prince was second only to him. Not too bad, really. He was a lecturer in his past life, well-versed in many subjects. In the modern world, that might not be much, but in this era...

But which dynasty was this? The thought revived him, and he beckoned the maiden closer.

She approached as summoned.

"My mind feels rather muddled with fever," Li Wei said.

A hint of worry lingered on the girl's tear-stained face, though a gentle smile flickered there too. "Why does your Highness speak so strangely?" she asked.

He had forgotten—Mandarin was not the language of ancient times. It was a product of northern and southern dialects eventually merging. The speech here had a southern Hakka flavor, yet differed in some ways. Curling his tongue, trying to mimic her accent, he asked, "What year, month, and day is it today?"

"Your Highness, you truly are feverish," she said, but quickly replied, "Today is the gengzi day of the second month in the second year of Xianheng."

She helped him sit up, a faint, delicate fragrance wafting into Li Wei's nose.

The gengzi day of the second month—the eighth day, then. The second year of Xianheng? Li Wei was at a loss once more. So he asked, "Which dynasty is this?"

"Please, Your Highness, do not frighten Bie'er so," the girl cried, tears streaming down her face. To have forgotten even the dynasty—this was no small matter.

"It's nothing, Bie'er, don't cry. I'll recover in a few days."

But how could she not worry? "Call the imperial physician at once," Bie'er urged.

"No," Li Wei waved her off. He had transmigrated; in ancient times, this was tantamount to being possessed by a ghost. If discovered, it would spell disaster.

"But, Your Highness—"

"Don't worry. Sit by my side and talk with me." Since he was the Crown Prince, he could refer to himself as "Gu"—that's what they did on television, after all.

Bie'er's tears continued to fall. Of all the people in the Eastern Palace, she was the closest to the Crown Prince. He was compassionate; upon hearing of her family's misfortune, he had even intervened to save them. Nothing must happen to him.

"It's just a fever; some things have slipped my mind temporarily. I'll remember in a few days. If you make a fuss and others hear, it won't look good."

Bie'er started, realizing that not only would it look bad, if the Crown Prince truly suffered from severe memory loss, combined with his frail health, his position could be threatened. She prostrated herself and said, "This servant knows her error."

"Rise," Li Wei said gently. "Tell me about myself. Perhaps your words will jog my memory."

"Yes," Bie'er stood up, gestured for the distant eunuchs to withdraw, and began to speak.

Though called a maid, Bie'er was the Crown Prince's personal attendant and wielded considerable authority in the Eastern Palace. The eunuchs immediately withdrew, and Bie'er began to recount the story of his current body.

He had transmigrated into Li Hong, the eldest son of Wu Zetian in the Tang dynasty—a compassionate Crown Prince. Under Tang military law, if a soldier deserted or failed to report for duty, his family would be enslaved by the state. During the three campaigns against Goguryeo, this harsh law shattered countless families. Li Hong, upon learning this, felt it was too cruel, petitioned for its abolition, and saved many lives. As a child, he studied the Zuo Tradition with Scholar Guo Yu, but when he came upon the story of Prince Mi Shangchen killing his lord, he could not bear to read it and switched to studying the Book of Rites instead.

This was the second year of Xianheng, corresponding to the year 671 AD.

Bie'er herself did not know the Gregorian year, but from her words, Li Wei realized he had become Wu Zetian's eldest son. By the reckoning of this era—counting even the time in the womb—he was already twenty years old.

He might not know much history, but who didn't know Wu Zetian? Any Chinese person would know her. He was her eldest son... and at twenty, how much time did he have left?

The thought made Li Wei, still weak from illness, break out in a cold sweat.

Just then, a shrill voice called from outside, "Princess Yiyang and Princess Xuancheng request an audience."

"Let them enter."

Soon, two young women entered, knelt at Li Hong's bedside, and said, "Yiyang and Xuancheng thank the Crown Prince for his aid."

Li Wei looked at them. Both were in their early twenties, with oval faces and delicate beauty. The elder wore a pale yellow tasseled gown, her hair in double buns, with long lashes and a gentle air. The younger wore a yellow jacket and skirt, her cheeks a little rounder, her large eyes holding an ancient charm.

After their words of gratitude, the two raised their heads to look at Li Wei, eyes filled with appreciation.

Li Wei—now Li Hong—had no idea what had transpired. He struggled to sit up and made a polite gesture. "Sisters, please don't be so formal. Please rise."

The princesses sat down on the stools Bie'er brought.

"Why do you thank me, sisters?" Li Wei asked.

"Father has arranged our marriages," they replied.

"Congratulations! May I ask to whom you are betrothed?" Li Wei was puzzled. Though his knowledge of Tang history was limited, he knew that women of this era married quite young. These two, already in their twenties, were only now being wed—like modern women marrying at forty. Why so late? And why thank him?

"To the palace guards Quan Yi and Wang Xu."

Palace guards were not ordinary soldiers, especially in the early Tang—the guards were often sons of nobility. Of course, not all were noble-born. Li Wei knew this much.

"Who are Quan Yi and Wang Xu?" Li Hong asked.

Princess Yicheng replied, "Quan Yi’s ancestors were high officials in the Northern Zhou and Sui dynasties; his grandfather was Lord of Luguo, and his father is also an official. He is of noble lineage, well-suited for my sister Xuancheng."

Her voice softened, tinged with shyness. "Wang Xu is the grandson of Wang Suigu, the General of the Right Guard and Lord of Pingshu, and son of the Sima of Shezhou, from the Wang family of Taiyuan—not of low birth."

Wang Xu was not a direct descendant of the main branch, but still a legitimate member of the Wang family, another noble lineage, and possessed of good character and looks. This time, Emperor Gaozong was marrying off Princess Yiyang to Wang Xu and Princess Xuancheng to Quan Yi.

Not an extraordinary match, yet not bad either. Still, why were they so grateful to him? What role had he played? Li Wei felt a vague sense of foreboding.

Seeing Li Hong's calm expression, the princesses said, "We are not mistreated."

But their exchanged glances betrayed unease. Not long ago, their esteemed younger brother had visited them. At the time, they hadn't thought much of it. Marriage was always on their minds—Tang society was open, and girls were aware of such matters from a young age.

Yet, being past twenty, they were mature enough to know that survival was paramount. Especially Princess Xuancheng, shrewd beyond her years. Now, not only could they marry, but also leave the palace—relative safety, however limited.

For this, they were deeply grateful to Li Hong.

"That's good," Li Wei said, glancing at the table. "Bie'er, bring those two pieces of coral."

He handed the white coral gifts to the princesses. "A wedding gift from me, sisters."

"Thank you, Your Highness," they replied, bowing deeply.

After some conversation, inquiries about his health, and many words of gratitude, the two noble yet pitiable princesses finally departed. As they left, they thanked him again, tears glistening.

Watching their retreating figures, Bie'er gave a cold snort. As a woman, she pitied the princesses, but sensed that Li Hong's actions might not serve him well. She had tried to advise him when he was drafting the memorial, but he hadn't listened.

"Oh, Your Highness," Bie'er turned back and looked at Li Wei, her heart uncertain—was it pity or sorrow she felt?

Li Wei was still at a loss, having no idea what had truly transpired. Seeing Bie'er's reproachful look, he asked, "Bie'er, did I do something wrong?"

"This servant cannot say, but I feel it may not have been wise."

"Why?"

"Your Highness, have you considered whose daughters they are?"

"Whose?"

"They are the daughters of Consort Xiao."

"Consort Xiao?" Li Wei's face changed. Though his grasp of history was limited, he knew the story of his imperial mother, Consort Xiao, and Empress Wang—and that Consort Xiao once had a son who was made Crown Prince, only to be deposed by Wu Zetian so that he himself could be made heir.

Now he understood why the princesses had not married until now. They were true princesses, Emperor Gaozong's own daughters. Surely the ministers knew how many daughters the emperor had—why had no one advised him otherwise? Yet this Crown Prince, Li Hong, had stuck his neck out.

What consequences might follow, he did not know, but Li Wei realized that Li Hong had ended up at odds with Wu Zetian.

He had transmigrated into Wu Zetian's son—and now, into the son who had incurred her wrath.

Li Wei was not pleased; he even felt like crying.