Chapter Fifty-Seven: Matters at the Duke’s Mansion, A Parting by the Wei River (Part One)

“Your Highness, when do you think Little Goose will come out?” Bi’er asked. Li Wei had said it would be soon last time, but the wait was unbearable.

“It shouldn’t be much longer, but it’s not that quick either—how many days has it been since the nest was built?” After saying this, Li Wei gazed out the window. Old Di’s idea was a good one; he hadn’t thought of it at first. After being confined for a few days, he started to feel restless in the bedchamber.

Looking at the vibrant scene outside—the flowers blooming, willows swaying, and Big Black joyfully flying to and fro in the golden dusk—Li Wei felt the urge to sing: “Iron gates, iron bars, iron chains…”

The sun was slowly sinking behind the western hills.

Though impatient, he couldn’t help but look forward to the next day. After his intercession, and given that Yao Yuanchong and Ximen Chong were both reasonably talented, they had finally been granted entrance to the Academy of Letters for an interview.

Yao Yuanchong was still a bit green, but his innate talent was already beginning to show. At the very least, Li Wei thought he no longer seemed as lonely and helpless as when he first arrived.

With this in mind, he called out, “Bi’er, come here.”

Bi’er approached, and Li Wei said, “Come, give me a kiss.”

“But we haven’t accomplished anything major today.”

“Even without a grand achievement, we can still share a kiss.”

“Mm.” The little girl pouted her rosy lips, leaned in, and, having begun to understand the flavor of intimacy, sometimes even responded with her tiny fragrant tongue.

After a brief moment of affection, Li Wei wasn’t sure if it was the result of Bi’er’s physical response or the warming weather, but a fine sheen of sweat appeared on her fair cheeks. She murmured, “Your Highness, let me accompany you tonight.”

Her hand slipped inside her robe, caressing as she whispered, “Still a bit small.”

“It’s not that small anymore—feel for yourself.”

Indeed, after a month, she seemed to have grown, and the sensation was quite pleasant. Should he or shouldn’t he?

At that moment, Liu Qun entered. Seeing them in their tender exchange, she was so startled she nearly backed out. Li Wei withdrew his hand and said, “Since you’re already in, there’s no need to be so furtive.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” She stepped forward and reported, “Your Highness, I’ve brought three thousand strings of cash from the workshop for the treasury.”

“Three thousand strings?” Li Wei was taken aback. “How is that possible?”

“Your Highness, do you recall the merchant Zou Fengchi, one of those involved in the grand ritual?”

“I remember—the one who bought all the trees on Mount Zhongnan with his family’s silk.”

“That’s him. He’s wealthy because his workshops and lands are scattered all over the country—some noble families don’t own as much land as he does. After hearing about the milk candy, he contacted the Jiang family’s young master and placed a large order. The Jiang family, together with my elder brother and others, set aside funds for materials and, seeing the Eastern Palace’s treasury empty, sent the rest over.”

“An order, perhaps, but that’s not all.” Li Wei’s tone was indifferent. The deal was more a matter of Zou Fengchi’s sharp instincts; he wanted to use this transaction to establish a connection with Li Wei. In this era, merchants’ hunger for official recognition was unimaginable to those of later times. Li Wei even suspected that, had his father ever promised Zou Fengchi an official post, Zou would have donated his entire fortune.

Li Wei didn’t look down on merchants, though. Landowners weren’t all good, and merchants weren’t all bad. On the contrary, without commerce, society could not function. Merchants played a vital role in revitalizing the economy. Yet, somehow, merchants had become the lowest class, equated with courtesans.

Zou Fengchi’s actions, however, were risky. As a “core of the Great Tang,” he saw confidential reports and heard the deepest secrets. In just a month, he had acquired a distilled essence of knowledge. If he could connect with Li Wei, he could just as easily align with others. Even after investing heavily, there was no guarantee of success or future remembrance. Worse, failure might bring disaster. At this time, aside from the top families masquerading as something else, these foundationless merchants, for all their apparent power, were like pavilions made of paper—one gust of political wind, and they would collapse.

As a merchant, it was best to enjoy wealth and not dabble in politics. But this reasoning was hard to convey to merchants. Even the Han merchant Hu Ying, upon hearing the word “officialdom,” would have his eyes light up.

But they had money, and Li Wei was in need of it. This windfall was like a lifeline, at least preventing a shortfall in the inner palace treasury.

With that in mind, he said to Liu Qun, “Have Elder Jiang relay this message to him: ‘I admire charitable acts and will judge by observation and action.’”

“Yes, Your Highness. Also, when I went south of the city, I checked on those bamboos.”

“How are they?”

“They’re still just bamboo,” Liu Qun said worriedly. This was the first time she’d heard of making paper from bamboo, and besides, could bamboo even be retted?

“It’s early yet—no need to worry,” Li Wei replied with a smile. Bamboo paper wasn’t the finest, but it was certainly the cheapest. As for whether bamboo could be retted—old bamboo could, though it took longer. Bamboo shoots had fibers that were too tender for papermaking. This batch of new bamboo had been carefully selected; while the exact time might not be a hundred days, it wouldn’t differ by much.

In fact, bamboo paper only appeared after the mid-Tang era. Its low cost eventually made woodblock printing possible, though the process was flawed and the paper brittle. Li Wei’s methods weren’t especially sophisticated, but they far surpassed those of the mid-to-late Tang, being closer to those of the Ming dynasty.

Once this bamboo paper appeared, it would be a revolutionary leap for the spread of culture.

Others doubted it could be done; Li Wei himself had no such doubts—though he was still vague about its true significance.

“Oh, bring Captain Xu Yue here.”

After several days, public anger in the capital had reached a boiling point. The timing was about right.

...

“Your Highness, your humble servant is at fault.” Captain Xu Yue strode in and knelt on one knee.

“What fault is there? If not for your desperate rescue, I’d never have returned from Mount Zhongnan.”

“We failed to protect you, which caused you distress and illness. We are to blame.” Xu Yue looked guilty, making Li Wei almost feel bad for deceiving him—he had nearly blurted out the truth.

Suppressing the urge, Li Wei asked, “How are your injuries?”

“It’s what I deserve, Your Highness. Thank you for your concern.”

“Take off your armor and let me see.”

Xu Yue obediently removed his armor. He’d taken a beating that day—several sword wounds, two arrows leaving bloody holes, the bandages still stained with fresh blood.

“A loyal and devoted servant,” Li Wei sighed. “Bi’er, fetch some of the ginseng Father awarded us and give a few roots to Captain Xu.”

“Your Highness, I dare not accept—” Xu Yue was so moved he could barely speak. For this gesture from the Crown Prince, risking his life was worth it.

“Captain Xu, there’s nothing else I can offer but a few roots of Silla ginseng, as a token of my gratitude. Please accept them.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“And, Bi’er, from the treasury take out four hundred bolts of silk and two hundred strings of cash as rewards for those four martyrs and the wounded guards from Mount Zhongnan.” Now that the treasury had money, they had a foundation.

“Your Highness, on behalf of their families, I thank you.”

“Rise. I still feel uneasy. Though I’ve shown a token of my heart, the dead cannot return. Wu Minzhi is truly despicable—not only him, but even his household servants are outrageous. They have no regard for me or the Imperial Guards. It’s intolerable.”

Xu Yue was equally enraged. This assassination had slapped not only the Crown Prince, but the Imperial Guards as well—especially the Eastern Palace’s own.

Suddenly his eyes lit up. Wu Minzhi might be beyond their reach, but what about his servants?

...

Watching him leave, Li Wei couldn’t help but smile wryly. Was he teaching others to be bad, or was he himself becoming a wastrel?

...

A carriage stopped in front of the post station. Two young maidens, veiled, descended gracefully.

Through the gauze curtains, their faces were unclear, but their elegant bearing drew the attention of every passerby on the dusk-lit avenue.

Inside, they bowed. “Your humble daughters, Xiangxue and Hualiu, greet our foster father.”

“Rise quickly,” Di Renjie said, raising a hand in benediction.

Wei Yuanzhong, Yao Yuanchong, and Ximen Chong stared in surprise at Di Renjie, who simply said, “I’ll explain later.”

With gentle warmth, he looked at the two girls. “Since you’ve shed your former status and now follow me, you needn’t use your old names.”

“We beg you, foster father, to grant us new names,” they said, bowing again.

“Xiangxue, your character is noble and pure. As the ‘Li Sao’ says, ‘I have planted nine beds of orchids, and a hundred acres of eupatorium.’ From now on, you’ll be named Di Hui. Hualiu, your grace is elegant. As the ‘Book of Songs’ says, ‘How beautiful and good she is.’ From now on, you’ll be called Di Hao.”

With Xiangxue’s proud disposition and Hualiu’s gentle nature, these names suited them well. Yao Yuanchong couldn’t help but clap. “Excellent!”

“Thank you, foster father.”

“Have your lodgings been arranged?”

“Our maids have already settled us into a quiet inn south of the city.”

“No need for ‘your humble daughter’ and such anymore. As my daughters, there’s no need for such humble address.”

That was true. Although Di Renjie didn’t come from one of the five great clans, he was still a scholar’s son from a respectable family.

“We will obey, foster father,” Hualiu said, promptly changing her manner.

“Good. Go and rest. Tomorrow, we must return to Bingzhou. Also, remember—don’t let anyone know.”

“We understand.”

The two withdrew gracefully. Di Renjie watched them, taking in their well-rounded hips, full bosoms, slender waists—these women embodied every feminine virtue. But Di Renjie only noted their ample hips, thinking to himself, “Excellent, these are the traits of women destined for many children.”

He was not being lecherous.

If a ruler has no heirs, the throne must go to distant relatives. But if new heirs suddenly appear, everything turns upside down. If there is but one, even if he’s a fool, he must be made emperor—there’s no choice. Thus, a sovereign blessed with many children is a boon to the state. At least, like Li Shimin, if one fails, another can take his place—ensuring an outstanding successor. The earlier, the better. Though a strong emperor with grown sons can be troublesome, it is still preferable to what happened in the Eastern Han, when child emperors clung to their mothers, and power fell to external clans or eunuchs.

That’s why he spoke so in the Eastern Palace. There was nothing lewd about it; it was for the good of the state.

“What’s going on here?” Wei Yuanzhong asked, jealous. “Three famed courtesans—Old Di, you can’t take them all at once.”

Di Renjie shot him a look. “Wei, what are you thinking? Even if I had ten lives, I wouldn’t dare lay a finger on them.”

He then recounted the whole story.

“Has Li Shan lost his mind?” Yao Yuanchong exclaimed after hearing it.

“He was once favored by Wu Minzhi, and so was used by him. Li Shan comes from a prestigious family and is renowned for his scholarship. But a single misstep, and his reputation may be ruined,” Wei Yuanzhong sighed. Among the Confucian scholars of this Tang era, Li Shan was easily among the top three. Even Wei Yuanzhong usually held him in high esteem. Perhaps Li Shan memorialized for the Crown Prince’s sake, but how would the Emperor take it? If he learned the truth, would he think, “My son saved two maidens and that’s bad? Would you rather I let Wu Minzhi defile them and only then be at peace?”

Di Renjie sighed as well. “He’ll be implicated. Gentlemen, Li Shan is our model—let us keep our distance from scoundrels.”

Not just Li Shan—there was also Liu Yizhi...

PS: Here comes the second update.