The next day, all court officials of the third rank and above, as well as members of the imperial clan and nobility — numbering in the dozens, including the Yao Marquis — received word from Prince Duan that he had urgent matters of vital importance to the court that needed to be discussed with everyone at once. He invited them all to come to his residence for a meeting.
Prince Duan held an extremely high position in the imperial family, yet he rarely involved himself in court affairs. At such a time of crisis, for him to suddenly step forward and publicly convene a gathering — and to speak with such gravity — was startling. Though everyone harbored doubts, they all made their way there, assembling in the reception hall of his residence. As they waited for Prince Duan, they spoke among themselves about the situation in the realm and the progress of the war at the front, all of them deeply anxious.
The Yao Marquis was the last to arrive and was shown by the prince’s steward to the seat of honor. Once he sat down, he closed his eyes and settled into stillness. Seeing him like this, and recalling the announcement made the previous day about the Empress’s pregnancy — and noting that Grand Tutor Guo had not come — the others gradually quieted down.
Prince Duan appeared shortly after. Coming straight to the point, he said he had received an urgent dispatch from Han Rongchang: the Emperor had met with misfortune and fallen into Shen Yang’s hands. The rebel army’s forces numbered no fewer than two hundred thousand and their momentum was overwhelming; the situation at the front was extremely grave; Han Rongchang, holding the line alone, would likely be unable to resist for long; and the capital was in a position as precarious as a stack of eggs. After saying all this, he passed Han Rongchang’s letter around for everyone to read.
The assembled ministers were all stunned. Some wept and prostrated themselves in grief; some stood frozen in blank shock; others cursed Shen Yang’s name and wished him dead.
The Yao Marquis remained grim-faced and silent.
After the initial uproar had died down, Prince Duan spoke again: “The purpose of General Han’s letter to me was to hope that the imperial clan would step forward in this time of national crisis, and swiftly welcome Prince Qin to enter Jing Pass, so that he might save the realm from disaster and suppress the rebellion!” He then circulated Han Rongchang’s personal letter for all to see.
Everyone passed it around and read it. Though fear and unease gripped their hearts and each secretly longed to have Prince Qin here at once, at first they looked at one another — some glancing at you, you glancing at me — with no one willing to be the first to speak.
It was understood that before the Emperor had departed on his personal campaign, he had entrusted the affairs of state jointly to Guo Lang and the Yao Marquis. Today Guo Lang had not come, but the Yao Marquis was present.
With a matter this grave, how could any of them dare open their mouths first without the Yao Marquis nodding his head? They all turned to look at him.
Prince Duan also openly asked the Yao Marquis what he thought they should do: should Prince Qin be invited, or not?
The Yao Marquis’s heart was torn with conflict.
He had not expected that news of Li Chengyu’s grim outlook would reach the capital so swiftly.
Once Prince Qin Li Xuandu was invited into the passes of the capital region, after the rebellion was suppressed, it would mean endless trouble for the Yao family.
But if he were not invited, and Han Rongchang truly could not hold the line, then the Yao Marquis knew all too clearly what awaited him.
Without the skin, what use is the fur?
For the moment, there was no choice but to yield.
Fortunately, the meeting last night with Guo Lang had left him feeling somewhat reassured.
Although the rumor of Li Chengyu’s patricide and regicide had spread across the realm by now, that was all just one-sided talk from the Eastern Capital rebels, with no hard evidence to back it up and therefore not worth counting. As long as the Empress could eventually “give birth” to an imperial son, moral authority and legitimate succession would be on his side. If he could pour all his effort into winning over Guo Lang and stand with him, a fight would not be entirely without possibility.
At last he raised his eyes, forced out the words through clenched back teeth, and said that Prince Duan’s position was senior and he was the head of the imperial clan, so it was entirely fitting for him to decide this matter.
Prince Duan nodded and said: “On this matter, I have also specifically consulted Grand Tutor Guo. Though the Grand Tutor is ill and absent today, his thoughts are no different from those of the Yao Marquis. Since that is the case, I shall make the decision — we will write a letter at once and invite Prince Qin to enter the passes with all speed, to suppress the rebellion and save the realm from its peril!”
All present voiced their agreement, and the matter was settled.
Prince Duan immediately wrote a letter in the name of the imperial clan, and asked the Yao Marquis and the others to sign and affix their seal and handprint one by one. It was then sealed, closed with a wax stamp, and dispatched via relay post at the rate of eight hundred li per day.
The letter traveled day and night on the road and, in only four or five days, arrived in He Xi and was placed in Li Xuandu’s hands.
On this day, it happened to be his eldest son’s full-month celebration.
The war in He Xi had just subsided, and the wounds of the land had not yet healed, while the fighting inside the passes continued without end. The full-month ceremony for their beloved son was kept simple — he had only set a small family banquet and invited Jiang Yi, Yang Hong, and a few others for a modest gathering.
On this day, Pu Zhu personally carried their beloved son out to greet the guests. Her bright eyes and white teeth, her beauty — giving birth had not diminished her looks in the slightest, but rather made her seem even more gracefully radiant than before. As for the infant in swaddling clothes, he was so impossibly adorable in his jade-white loveliness that everyone who saw him could not resist the urge to hold him.
In the midst of laughter and cheerful voices, the letter arrived.
Li Xuandu read it through. At the time his expression showed nothing unusual; he continued chatting and laughing with the guests as before. Only after the family banquet had concluded did he bring Jiang Yi into the inner chamber, and summoned Pu Zhu to join them, and spread the letter open for the two of them to read.
When Pu Zhu had finished reading the letter and the long row of joint signatures at the end, something stirred in her heart.
As long as Li Xuandu suppressed the rebellion this time, that seat — perhaps it would belong to him.
In this moment, she should by rights have been very moved. After all, from the moment she had opened her eyes in this life, the one goal she had held close in her heart had been to reclaim her position as Empress.
Now that position looked closer and closer, she felt nearly nothing — her heart was close to still water.
What’s more, the very first thought that surfaced in her mind in this moment was: he was going to leave again. The next time they met, she had no idea when it would be.
Her mood dipped slightly, but she let nothing of it show on her face. She simply concentrated and listened to him talk with Jiang Yi.
Jiang Yi had been stationed with his troops at the northern desert outside Yumen Pass for some time and had only returned to He Xi a few days ago. After reading the letter, he said nothing more, only rose and bowed deeply to Li Xuandu with a solemn expression, then said: “Evil spirits stir up trouble and sow chaos. War after war, it is always the common people who suffer! Your Highness was born of the imperial family and is the legitimate great-great-grandson of the founding Emperor. In this time of national calamity and family ruin, even without this letter, suppressing the rebellion, ending the strife, and restoring peace to the people is Your Highness’s inescapable duty! Jiang Yi will hold fast to the northern desert and ensure that the barbarians cannot set their sights on He Xi again — Your Highness need have no concern on the rear. Please enter the passes without delay!”
Li Xuandu turned to look at Pu Zhu.
Pu Zhu pushed down the reluctance welling up within her and smiled at him: “Godfather’s words are exactly right. Go without worry — I will take good care of myself and the child.”
Li Xuandu then turned back to Jiang Yi and returned a deep, solemn bow of thanks.
Shen Yang had been quietly plotting this great undertaking for many years. After the Eastern Capital had established its own court, his momentum had been immense, and like a snowball it had grown ever larger — continuously absorbing rebel forces, and with the addition of the troops Chen Zhude had surrendered, his army was now said to number two hundred thousand.
In contrast, the court’s army grew smaller with every battle. As for the other local commandery troops, most were also watching and waiting.
The court’s forces had held the advantage at the outset, but now Han Rongchang had only fifty or sixty thousand men he could actually command. Adding Li Xuandu’s twenty thousand He Xi troops, the total came to seventy or eighty thousand at most — less than half the rebel forces.
After Li Xuandu led his forces through Jing Pass, Pu Zhu remained in He Xi. News of his campaign to suppress the rebellion reached her gradually, one piece at a time.
He had set out in the tenth month of that year. In the eleventh month, he led the He Xi army to Yong Prefecture and joined up with Han Rongchang. At that time, the court’s soldiers, who had been holding on for so long, were filled with elation. Han Rongchang knelt before him and begged forgiveness for his crimes.
Not long before, Li Lihua had sent her son Han Chijiao to persuade him to surrender. He had seized Han Chijiao and not let him return. Now he handed the man over as well, asking Prince Qin to judge and punish him accordingly.
Li Xuandu told him to keep a close watch on Han Chijiao and no longer allow himself to be manipulated by his mother. He also told him that when he had set out from He Xi, the Princess Consort had not only safely delivered a son but the child had already reached his full month, and he had just held a full-month celebration. He reminded him of his own instructions — that once the rebellion was suppressed, she would make sure to pour him a cup of wine in honor of the full-month he had missed.
Han Rongchang was deeply moved upon hearing this, and wept tears of remorse. On the spot he swore an oath that from that day forward he would never again stray or do anything to betray the Princess Consort.
A month later, near the end of that year, Li Xuandu led his forces and clashed with Shen Yang’s rebel army at Yongle in Yong Prefecture.
In the second month of spring the following year, the two sides fought at Guo Prefecture.
In the fourth month, they fought at Tao Lin.
The battle at Tao Lin was a full-scale frontal engagement between the court forces under Li Xuandu’s command and Shen Yang’s Eastern Capital rebel army — it could rightly be called a decisive battle.
In the nearly half-year leading up to it, both sides had probed one another with several engagements. By the time this battle came, both sides threw everything they had into it. The fighting lasted more than half a month.
Though Shen Yang was shrewd and calculating, and a commander of genuine talent himself, the rebel army was at its core a ragtag collection of forces. To say nothing of anything else — among the seventy or eighty thousand troops Chen Zhude had brought over to his side, not one of them was truly fighting with their heart. Now that Prince Qin had arrived and his momentum was growing stronger by the day, when the two sides fought, how could such men really lay down their lives?
On the other side, from the moment Li Xuandu entered the passes, local commandery troops across the realm — among them many who were old subordinates of Jiang Yi — heard that Jiang Yi had also gone over to him, and followed suit one after another. By the battle at Tao Lin, his forces had grown and were nearly on a par with the rebel army. Heaven’s timing, geographic advantage, and the favor of the people — he held them all. Even before the battle had concluded, the troops Chen Zhude had originally handed over to Shen Yang deserted mid-battle and went running back. The Eastern Capital rebels suffered a crushing defeat, and Shen Yang in the end could only lead his remnant battered forces in retreat, pulling back out of Yong Prefecture toward the Eastern Capital.
At this point, after nearly half a year of war, the balance of offense and defense between the two sides had completely shifted. The rebel army’s exhaustion was plain for all to see, and the bold, domineering air that had once seemed to look down on the whole world had all but vanished without a trace.
That night, on the road of retreat, encamped at a place called Luqiao Station.
A great river flowed across that place. As a precaution, he had made arrangements early, and now they had indeed proven useful — he had secured control of the crossing point over this great river, and for the time being had managed to hold Li Xuandu’s pursuing forces at bay on the other side.
He had not slept for several nights running. He hadn’t even had a moment to catch his breath when news arrived from the Eastern Capital behind him.
Li Lihua and the faction loyal to the young Emperor had not merely been fighting in the shadows during the half-year he had been campaigning against the capital — they had actually raised troops against each other, and blood had been spilled in the great hall itself.
He was furious and ordered someone to rush back to the Eastern Capital at once on his behalf to take control of the situation.
That night, deep in the night, once he had confirmed that the pursuing forces had been blocked at the other side of the crossing and could not yet get across, he drank morosely for half the night, worn out, and having no desire for female company, he dismissed the maidservants, and in the great tent fell into a drowsy, half-conscious sleep.
Perhaps it was the wine — he actually began to dream, and in his dream he saw that woman.
Even to himself, he could not quite say what it was he had wanted from her.
At first it had been the intoxication of her jade face and flower-like beauty — and her identity and status only doubled her allure, stirring in him a desire for possession.
At that time, he had been at the height of his power, his authority surpassing all others. And the man who possessed her, Prince Qin Li Xuandu — besides his high-sounding title and birth, he had no power worth speaking of compared to Shen Yang’s, and above his head hung a sword that could fall at any moment.
Yet she had rejected his overtures without so much as a polite pretense.
What he suffered at her hands was not merely defeat — it was humiliation.
He, who had always prided himself on his keen mind and flawless schemes, had been dazzled by her beauty on that occasion, struck senseless, and left to be at her mercy.
If she had taken that opportunity to kill him, there would long since have been no such person in this world.
That experience had been for him nothing short of a monstrous humiliation — the first and only such encounter of his life. And yet afterward, his desire to possess her had not extinguished — it had, on the contrary, grown ever more intense.
To obtain that woman, to make her submit to him, had become a vast, consuming obsession lodged in the depths of his heart — one that had never once disappeared.
In his original plan, once he had taken the capital, he would exercise authority as regent and command the realm through his power alone. Beneath such absolute dominance, all things could be crushed.
He had only to dispose of Li Xuandu, and once she had lost her support, winning her heart was merely a matter of time. When he had made all the necessary preparations, he would ultimately replace the Li dynasty, establish a new dynasty, and make her his Empress, granting her the highest of honors.
But he had not foreseen that the Dongdi people would prove so useless, bringing his plans to ruin and leaving him in such dire straits now.
In his dream, he seemed to catch again the faint, lingering fragrance from that woman’s thick black hair — a scent that would not fade. He woke, staring up with eyes threaded with red, drifting briefly in a daze, when outside the tent came the sound of someone requesting to enter.
He composed himself, rose slowly, and ordered the person to enter.
The man was his trusted aide — the one who, on orders, had gone to He Xi to find her, only to have an ear cut off by Li Xuandu and be sent back.
Two months prior, Shen Yang had dispatched him covertly to the Dongdi to urge the Sushuang Khan to send troops again with all speed.
He had made the long journey and only now returned.
Shen Yang saw that his face was somber and heavy, and the ominous premonition in his heart grew stronger. He asked how the Sushuang Khan had replied.
The man handed over the letter in response.
Shen Yang read it. His expression turned rigid as stone. He recalled the scene that had met his eyes when he had rushed back and entered the main camp just now — chaos and disarray on every side. He knew the great tide had turned and it would be nearly impossible to reverse it. Gnashing his teeth, the man knelt and touched his forehead to the ground, and urged: “My lord, the Dongdi forces were defeated, their internal strife continues, and the Sushuang Khan does not dare send troops south again in the near term. The people at the Eastern Capital are only good at undermining things, and utterly useless for accomplishing anything! In this situation, you would do best to take all the gold and silver and treasures you have gathered and make for the Dongdi. Taking advantage of the infighting among the tribes, and with the relationship you have built with the Sushuang Khan, once you arrive there you are sure to be enfeoffed as a king, and there will be much you can accomplish. Wait for your opportunity, and then return with a resurgent force!”
Shen Yang said not a word. After a long silence, his expression slowly twisted into something grotesque — his eyes blood-red, the look within them as though blood were seeping through.
Abandon this magnificent land, flee to the northern desert wastelands, eat raw meat and drink blood, scrape through his days in miserable survival, running from Li Xuandu’s pursuit through the ice and snow like a dog scrambling for scraps with others?
Impossible.
He would rather stake everything on one last fight. Even if heaven was against him and it ended in death — he would not sink to such a wretched, ignoble existence!