Chapter 3: Underlying Currents in the Court

“Uncle, you flatter me! We are not forging an imperial edict.” Li Tai’s expression was animated, his eyes shining with fervent zeal.

“Remember how during the Eastern Han, Cao Cao forged an imperial secret decree, summoning heroes from across the land to the capital to serve the emperor and eliminate the rebels. Though Cao Cao was a notorious villain, he was, at that time, a patriotic man of passion. Though the decree was false, who can say he did not convey the true will of Emperor Xian of Han?”

Li Tai grew more excited as he paced the room, his voice trembling slightly. “Uncle, what we do is no different. The late emperor departed suddenly, unable to voice his true intentions. We merely express what he truly meant. How can this be called forging an edict?”

He paused, a sly glimmer crossing his eyes before continuing, “Moreover, it is well known throughout court and country that the emperor disliked the crown prince and favored me for the throne. If you aid me, once I ascend, I will ensure you retain your exalted status, and the Changsun family, my maternal clan, will enjoy everlasting wealth and honor!”

Changsun Wuji listened, his brow twitching involuntarily. He inwardly sighed that Li Tai, the emperor’s favored son, was unmatched in his artful rhetoric within the Tang dynasty.

His face grave and eyes sharp, he fixed Li Tai with a penetrating gaze. After a moment’s silence, he spoke slowly, “Prince Wei, be cautious with your words. I wish to ask, what preparations have you made?”

Li Tai’s face lit up with joy, sensing Changsun Wuji’s concession. He hurried forward, excitement blazing in his eyes. “Uncle, rest assured. The Cui clan of Qinghe, the Wang clan of Taiyuan, and the Lu clan of Fanyang have pledged their full support to me. Many in court follow me as well, even Fang Xuanling’s son, Fang Yiai, will sway the chancellor.”

He smiled proudly, as if already grasping the throne. “With your aid, uncle, this endeavor is promising indeed!”

Seeing Li Tai’s fervor, Changsun Wuji sighed inwardly. These royal scions, nurtured in palace luxury, did not understand the cunning of the old noble clans. They would never truly aid Li Tai—they merely sought to use him.

Yet Changsun Wuji was unperturbed. He believed that under his guidance, the Changsun family would rise anew, surpassing all old clans.

He nodded slightly, his expression solemn. “Prince Wei, this old servant is willing to lend you a hand. Whatever you require, command me.”

…

That night, as midnight cloaked Chang’an in silence and darkness, the occasional sound of the night watch echoed faintly through the empty streets.

Cheng Yaojin carried a large hemp sack, bulging with a life-sized figurine painstakingly crafted by the famed physician Sun Simiao.

Alongside Li Shiji, Fang Xuanling, Sun Simiao, and Yuchi Jingde, they hurriedly sought a final audience with His Majesty.

All were esteemed ministers of the court, their prestige immense. Although Changsun Wuji wished to obstruct them, he knew resistance was futile.

After all, despite the secrecy surrounding the emperor’s passing, these men undoubtedly already knew.

Upon receiving the palace guards’ report, Changsun Wuji frowned deeply. After brief thought, he waved them in.

Inside the Daming Palace, Emperor Taizong’s body lay surrounded by flickering candlelight, enhancing the solemnity.

Upon entering, the ministers immediately knelt, their cries of grief resounding throughout the palace.

“Your Majesty! Oh, Your Majesty!” Fang Xuanling wept bitterly, his voice laden with sorrow. “Why did you depart so soon?”

He sobbed, pounding the ground with his fists, as if to vent his anguish.

…

“I have not yet had the chance to assist Your Majesty in achieving eternal glory!”

Overcome with grief, he collapsed to the floor.

Cheng Yaojin, Li Shiji, and Yuchi Jingde would not be outdone; their rough voices thundered like a storm, drowning out Fang Xuanling’s lamentations.

Cheng’s face flushed red from tears, he shouted, “Your Majesty, how could you abandon us, your loyal ministers!”

Li Shiji’s tears streamed freely as he murmured his regrets, while Yuchi Jingde beat his chest, his grief as if the heavens had fallen.

The palace eunuchs and maids gathered, eyes brimming with tears.

“Minister Fang, General Cheng, General Li, please take heart,” they whispered, their own voices trembling with sorrow.

Waving them off, Cheng cried aloud, “You all should leave now. We ministers still have many words to say to His Majesty!”

His eyes shone with profound sorrow.

“Master physician Sun Simiao is here as well; he has a way to preserve His Majesty’s body. Please, everyone, withdraw.”

The attendants exchanged glances, aware of the deep bonds between these ministers and the emperor, and withdrew quietly.

Within the Daming Palace remained only these ministers. Fang Xuanling, realizing his voice was drowned by the generals, wiped his tears and fell silent.

He signaled the warriors, who immediately resumed their loud lamentations, their cries swelling like turbulent waves.

Their mourning echoed beyond the palace walls, reverberating through Chang’an, as if to let the entire city share their sorrow.

Even the guards outside, eunuchs and maids alike, could not help but weep softly for the fallen sovereign.

The entire palace was shrouded in a mournful atmosphere.

Fang Xuanling led Sun Simiao to the emperor’s body. The physician’s expression was grave as he carefully applied pressure to several acupuncture points with expert precision.

He then produced an antidote to the “turtle breath” pill from an exquisite vial, pouring it into a small bowl and rinsing it gently with water.

Using a tiny spoon, he carefully administered the antidote to Emperor Taizong’s mouth, cautious to avoid any mistake.

After a moment, the supposedly dead emperor coughed slightly, the sound sharp in the silent hall.

His pale, ashen face gradually softened, regaining a rosy hue as if life were returning.

When he opened his eyes, Fang Xuanling motioned for silence. Understanding, the emperor nodded and slowly climbed out of the coffin.

Meanwhile, Cheng Yaojin continued his loud lamentations, but discreetly retrieved the life-sized effigy from the sack.

He dressed it in the emperor’s mourning dragon robe; under the flickering candlelight, it looked remarkably lifelike.

Once finished, he handed the emperor a silk garment to change into, performing the task swiftly and seamlessly.

When the preparations were complete, Cheng’s cries quieted.

He lowered his voice, using Li Shiji’s cries to cover his words, “Your Majesty, please bear with being squeezed into the sack. Old Cheng will carry you out of the palace!”

Emperor Taizong nodded gratefully and patted Cheng’s shoulder. “Thank you, loyal minister.”

…

When the group swaggered out of the palace and arrived at the Duke of Ying’s mansion, dawn was breaking.

The city of Chang’an was stirring, early risers beginning their day.

They hastily untied the sack and helped Emperor Taizong out.

Fang Xuanling, eyes brimming with tears, knelt with a thud, choking back emotion. “Your Majesty, why must you suffer this?”

The emperor smiled weakly, weary yet relieved. “Minister Fang, rise. Li Shiji, fetch something to eat—I am famished.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Li Shiji replied respectfully.

He turned to leave and prepare food but was stopped by Sun Simiao.

“General Li, please prepare soft foods—soups and porridges are best. His Majesty must avoid heavy meats for now.”

Sun Simiao stroked his graying beard, eyes grave as he addressed Li Shiji.

Li Shiji nodded solemnly. “Understood, Master Physician.”

He quietly closed the door and arranged the meal.

Emperor Taizong sat on the bed, feeling weak and drained.

Cheng Yaojin and Yuchi Jingde stood guard on either side like stalwart sentinels, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Sun Simiao as he took the emperor’s pulse.

The doctor stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Rest assured, Your Majesty is unharmed—only weakened from prolonged fasting. Once nourished, he should recover within two days!”

His words eased everyone’s anxiety.

Emperor Taizong gazed at Fang Xuanling and asked slowly, “Minister Fang, after my death, has Chang’an remained peaceful?”

Fang Xuanling frowned, a shadow of worry crossing his eyes. “Your Majesty, it could be said that trouble has arisen, yet also that none has. The city is so still, it is as if Your Majesty yet lives.”

He paused, then continued, “Not a ripple disturbs the surface. Lord Changsun has sealed the palace gates and concealed the mourning. Most officials likely remain unaware of Your Majesty’s passing.”

“Very few know the emperor has died.”

Hearing this, the emperor’s heart somewhat eased. He nodded. “Minister Fang, you are indeed a seasoned strategist, arranging affairs after my passing so carefully. Does the crown prince know of my death?”

The ministers exchanged glances, complex emotions flickering in their eyes.

Seeing their expressions, the emperor likely guessed the answer. His face darkened. “That unfilial son has shown no reaction? Neglectful of state affairs, idling daily?”

A flash of anger and disappointment crossed his eyes.

“I do not understand. It has been a day since my death. That son is in Xianyang. Even if Lord Changsun sent messengers, the crown prince should have been informed and returned swiftly to assume the throne. Why is there still no sign?”

His face grew ominously dark, as though a storm approached.

Noticing the emperor’s mood, Cheng Yaojin quickly spoke, “Your Majesty, perhaps the news will arrive tomorrow. Let us wait a little longer.”

The emperor’s expression softened somewhat at Cheng’s words, though a lingering shadow remained in his eyes.