Chapter 19: A Different Day for Emperors and Generals!

“Long live His Majesty, long live, long live forever!”

From somewhere within the crowd, a voice rang out first, filled with reverence and respect, like a pebble cast into a still lake, instantly stirring a thousand ripples.

Soon after, cries of “Long live!” surged forth like a mighty flood, echoing through the streets of Chang’an.

Wave after wave of common folk—men, women, young and old—spontaneously knelt in unison, their eyes brimming with devotion, foreheads touching the ground, voices rising and falling in a chorus of “Long live!”

The formidable soldiers of the Three Major Camps and the enigmatic Embroidered Guards, who were usually fierce and imposing, now sheathed their gleaming weapons without hesitation.

Without a moment’s doubt, they dropped to one knee, then both knees, their synchronized movements as if rehearsed countless times, their shouts of “Long live!” thunderous and soaring to the heavens.

Amidst this sea of fervent acclamation, only Zhang Xianhuai stood alone, clutching an imperial edict, rooted to the spot.

His face flushed deeply, seemingly swept up by the fervent atmosphere around him, and he too called out, “Long live Our Emperor, long live, long live forever!”

Though his voice was faint against the clamorous crowd, it carried a unique firmness.

…

At the Duke of Yingguo’s residence.

What was once a quiet sanctuary had become lively and bustling with the arrival of Li Shimin and his companions.

Li Shimin could no longer endure the atmosphere at Prime Minister Fang’s residence. Though he was the sovereign of a great nation, wielding supreme authority, in the Fang household, facing Fang Xuanling’s formidable wife, Lady Lu, even the emperor had to tread lightly, as if sneaking about like a thief.

Lady Lu was born into the prestigious Lu family of Fanyang and was known for her fiery temperament. Whenever Li Shimin stayed at the Fang residence, he tiptoed carefully, fearful of making any noise that might draw her attention.

The scene was somewhat comical.

Upon arriving at the Duke of Yingguo’s mansion, however, Li Shimin was entirely different—he appeared relaxed and at ease.

Duke Li Ji was a warm and hospitable host, daily indulging Li Shimin with the finest wine and the most succulent meats.

Cheng Yaojin, a character of some humor, had even brought along a cow that had drowned under mysterious circumstances, sharing it with the brothers.

The beef sizzled on the fire, releasing fragrant oils that filled the air, as the group sat around, feasting heartily.

At that moment, they were gathered in a side room of the Duke’s mansion, the table strewn with wine jars and leftover bones.

They drank deeply and ate heartily; the wine warmed their guts as their spirits soared. They began reminiscing about their thrilling past glories, laughing heartily one moment and growing impassioned the next, as if transported back to the battlefields of iron and blood.

Just as the conversation reached its peak, a sudden clamor arose outside.

At first faint and indistinct, the noise grew clearer and louder by the moment, as if thousands of cavalry thundered past.

“What’s going on out there? Such a ruckus? Could it be trouble?”

Li Shimin frowned, shaking his dizzy head to clear it, striving to regain composure.

He looked at Li Ji and said loudly, “Li Ji, go see what’s causing this commotion outside!”

Li Ji set down his half-raised wine jar with a clang against the table.

He nodded and, somewhat unsteady on his feet, said, “Your Majesty, I’ll go see right away!” Then, swaying slightly, he made his way toward the door.

Shortly after, Li Ji returned. He swiftly closed the door behind him and leaned against it, catching his breath.

“Your Majesty, it’s nothing serious. The people outside are spontaneously kneeling and chanting ‘Long live the Emperor!’”

Li Ji spoke in a drunken haze, then hoisted the wine jar again, draining the last dregs down his throat, the liquid spilling from his mouth unnoticed.

Cheng Yaojin and Yuchi Jingde had long since collapsed face-down on the table, snoring loudly in an endless chorus.

Hearing Li Ji’s words, the tension in Li Shimin’s chest eased immediately. He patted his chest proudly, a triumphant smile on his face as he said to Li Ji,

“Do you see? Today must be the day of my funeral, the day my coffin returns to Zhao Mausoleum. The people are bowing to my coffin, yes?”

He paused, eyes gleaming with pride.

“I always knew I was a good emperor!”

Filled with joy, Li Shimin reached for a fresh jar of wine, uncorked it, and gulped down two hearty swallows, spilling wine across his robes, unbothered.

“Li Ji, tell me, can that brat Chengqian do better than me?”

Li Shimin burped, his breath thick with wine as he asked.

Li Ji shook his head, trying to sober up though the intoxication clung to him like a shadow.

“Of course, Your Majesty! The Crown Prince can surely do better! Look outside—the people are all shouting ‘Long live the Emperor!’”

Drunk and half-unconscious, Li Ji hadn’t caught the full question and answered instinctively.

Li Shimin mumbled, half-dazed, “Better than me? What a joke! Just look outside, that’s proof of my popular support…”

As he spoke, a flicker of clarity returned to his eyes, replaced swiftly by confusion.

“Li Ji, you just said the people outside are shouting ‘Long live the Emperor.’ Which emperor did they mean?”

Li Shimin forced his eyes wide open, bloodshot and weary, desperate to hear an answer favorable to himself.

Li Ji’s eyelids fluttered as he murmured drowsily, “Your Majesty, you’re hilarious! They’re shouting for the Crown Prince!”

He yawned.

“Besides us few who know you’re not dead, who else could possibly know? Ha ha ha!”

With that, Li Ji could hold on no longer and fell into a deep sleep.

Li Shimin’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a scowl of displeasure.

He looked at Li Ji, collapsed asleep on the table, and laughed bitterly, “Li Ji, you’re no different from them—can’t hold your liquor, all drunk, all drunk!”

His laughter was tinged with helplessness.

“Everyone’s talking nonsense now!”

Finally, unable to resist the overwhelming intoxication, Li Shimin too collapsed onto the table and fell into a heavy slumber.

After a full day’s work from dawn till dusk, Fang Xuanling felt utterly drained, like a withered tree stripped of all moisture. He dragged his heavy body, step by step, toward the Duke of Yingguo’s residence.

His sole thought was to return home and enjoy a peaceful sleep.

Yet he needed an excuse to visit the emperor and to explain to his household.

Lately, his affairs had piled up like countless stars in the sky—too many to count.

Coming to the Duke’s residence was timely, bringing the imperial edict for Li Ji’s campaign, and conveniently providing an excuse to leave Lady Lu’s house—a two-birds-one-stone solution, though only he knew the hardships beneath.

Upon arrival, Fang Xuanling was immediately led by a servant directly to a side room.

The servant didn’t know who was inside, only that the Duke had instructed to bring the prime minister here upon arrival.

After the servant left, Fang Xuanling cautiously pushed open the door.

What he saw nearly made him feel the sky was falling.

The four men inside were drunk to the point of stupor, the room thick with the sharp scent of alcohol, as if it could suffocate a person.

They snored in turn, their snores rising and falling like summer thunder.

Looking at the leftover food and drink on the table, and recalling how he, Ma Zhou, and Grand Tutor Qi had spent the day strategizing on how to respond if the Tibetans invaded, Fang Xuanling’s heart was heavy.

After work, he had hurried here to report to his former lord—truly a bitter burden.

The sound of Fang Xuanling’s entrance stirred the four men, who had been drinking since morning and sleeping nearly half the day away.

Li Shimin opened his eyes, relieved to see Fang Xuanling.

Fang Xuanling stepped forward to support him, concern etched on his face.

“Your Majesty, how did you drink so much?”

Li Shimin, feeling the stabbing headache of a hangover as if needles pricked his brain, weakly pointed to some tea.

Seeing this, Fang Xuanling hastily poured a cup of cool tea for him. But no sooner had Li Shimin taken a sip than a violent upheaval seized his stomach, and he retched loudly, vomiting onto the floor.

The smell quickly filled the room, rousing the other three men completely.

Fang Xuanling patted Li Shimin’s back with pity. “Your Majesty, are you all right?”

After a moment, Li Shimin spoke softly, “Xuanling, I’m fine. I was just happy today and overindulged.”

He thought thankfully, at least Fang Xuanling was not Wei Zheng; otherwise, he would surely be scolded mercilessly.

Li Shimin felt immense relief that he hadn’t brought Wei Zheng along—he would have been reprimanded harshly.

Li Ji shook his head, trying to sober up, and said, “Your Majesty, let’s move to the next room. I’ll send someone to prepare a sobering soup and fetch some water. We can drink the soup and talk.”

Li Shimin nodded.

Soon, all five men gathered in the adjoining room. Li Ji arranged for a steaming bowl of fish soup, its aroma filling the space, tantalizing their senses.

The hot fish soup warmed their stomachs, instantly soothing the four hungover men and clearing their foggy heads somewhat.

“How can you all be sitting here drinking so calmly today?”

Fang Xuanling cast a reproachful glance at the other three.

Cheng Yaojin scratched his head in confusion, replying, “Old Fang, what else are we supposed to do if not drink? We have no pressing matters. Unlike you—you're the prime minister, so naturally you have more to do!”

“Do you realize? Today the very sky over the Great Tang was nearly torn apart!”

Fang Xuanling raised his voice, his expression grave.

At these words, the four men were struck with alarm.

Especially Li Shimin, who rose from his chair, his face tense with concern.

“What happened?”