Chapter 82: A Restless Heart

“Your Majesty, please quell your anger.”

“How can I quell my anger? Wei Zheng, heed my command: I appoint you as the official in charge of Shandong, to assist the Earl of Chang’an and to thoroughly investigate the province. You must uncover the mastermind behind the assassination attempt. The Imperial Physician will accompany you to Shandong at once; you must ensure the Earl of Chang’an returns to the capital unharmed. If you fail… my wrath will be merciless.”

With these words, Li Shimin flung his sleeves and departed. Wei Zheng opened his mouth several times but at last, closed his eyes in pain and cried out, “Your servant obeys.” Li Shimin’s fury was genuine; in Shandong, Wei Zheng could not afford to proceed gently, or Li Shimin would not rest.

Wei Zheng had always enjoyed a close relationship with the scholarly clans of Shandong. Since the early years of Wude, he had become their tacit spokesman at court. Otherwise, Li Shimin would not have recruited him repeatedly to ensure a smooth transition, and later sent him to persuade the gentry of Hebei.

Yet this time, he knew he would inevitably offend countless noble families. The relationships he had maintained for years would likely be shattered beyond repair. After this, apart from throwing his lot in entirely with Li Shimin, to whom else could he turn?

He rose, straightened his robes, and, with a melancholy gesture to the court officials from the Five Surnames and Seven Clans, said, “Brothers, forgive me. This is a duty I cannot refuse. Should I call at your doors in days to come, I beg you not to turn me away in disdain.”

The members of the Wang family of Langya regarded Wei Zheng with complicated expressions. At last, one spoke with a trace of hope, “We trust, Brother Xuancheng, you will show mercy. For this we thank you.”

“Xuancheng takes his leave with sorrow!” Wei Zheng bowed deeply and, without further hesitation, departed. The faces of the Five Surnames and Seven Clans were dark; it was clear Wei Zheng dared not show leniency. With his mission, disaster was sure to befall their families.

In the palace, Li Chengqian clung to the Empress, weeping and begging to go to Zhengzhou to see Cai Cong. He had but this one friend, now gravely wounded and near death—how could he not worry?

The Empress was pale as death. On hearing that Cai Cong had been slashed from belly to shoulder, she had fainted outright. When she awoke, she immediately issued an edict: “By my command: Lady Xiao Jia is virtuous, kind to the villagers, compassionate to refugees. Bestow upon her two Sichuan robes, four bolts of brocade, two jade ruyi, and ten catties of gold.”

The Empress’s decree was paraded through Chang’an in grand display. With this, she made it known that, regardless of Cai Cong’s fate, the royal favor toward the Cai family would not cease; none were to dare insult or oppress them.

To Li Chengqian’s plea, the Empress answered with a beating from the rattan cane. As Crown Prince, he must not be swayed by personal feelings, nor leave the capital for the life or death of one person.

Li Tai wailed, “Brother is the Crown Prince and cannot leave Chang’an, but I am not—I can go to Zhengzhou. Please, Mother, grant me leave.”

“All of you, return and reflect on your duties as princes. I will send imperial physicians to treat Cai Cong; this is all we can do.” The Empress, too, shed tears. Women are creatures of feeling; Cai Cong was clever and mischievous, always kind to her. Her heart was flesh, after all.

“Mother, do not grieve. The physician said you must not endure great sorrow. Where is the sanqi powder? Let me fetch water for you to take it.” Li Chengqian hurried to comfort her. The sanqi had been found and ground into medicine; otherwise, at the first sign of Cai Cong’s misfortune, Li Shimin would have issued a gag order, forbidding anyone from informing the Empress.

The Cai family village was in turmoil. The Empress’s reward had barely time to stir excitement when word arrived from Chang’an that Cai Cong was at death’s door. All were anxious and restless. Sister Cai fainted and would not wake, and the household was thrown into chaos.

At this critical moment, the old patriarch exerted his authority, striking several people with his cane and commanding the clan to go about their duties without panic. He sent for a physician from the academy to tend to Sister Cai, and dispatched envoys to Chang’an to confirm the news. Only then did calm return.

When Sister Cai awoke, she clamored to go to Zhengzhou, but the old man furiously forbade it. “What use would it be now? It is your duty to keep the household in order, so Cai Cong may have no worries at home.” He then earnestly asked the physician’s family to send someone to Zhengzhou to treat Cai Cong if he truly was wounded.

Chunyu and Xiayun had already packed their belongings, ready to depart for Zhengzhou as soon as news arrived. The men in Zhengzhou were all rough fellows—what young ladies there could care for the wounded?

Meanwhile, Zhang Liang’s household was as festive as a holiday. Changsun Anye and several patriarchs who had been suppressed by Cai Cong raised their cups, and Zhang Liang laughed wildly.

“Alas, it’s a pity we didn’t manage to kill that brat,” Zhang Liang sighed after several rounds, dismissing his attendants.

“Indeed! Who would have thought Cai Cong’s life so tenacious? Zhang, your assassins are worthless; they couldn’t even kill a child before his very eyes,” Changsun Anye said, glancing at Zhang Liang. If word of this got out, it would be a shock to all.

Everyone believed the assassins had been sent by the Five Surnames and Seven Clans, even their own members in Chang’an. Who could imagine all the men had been Zhang Liang’s?

“What do you mean by that, Brother Anye? My men infiltrated Cai Cong’s room through layer upon layer of guards—hardly incompetents.” Zhang Liang was displeased. These are deathsworn men; each lost is irreplaceable. The losses this time pained him deeply.

“Haha, there’s no need to quarrel over such a trifle. Even if we didn’t kill the brat, to leave him gravely wounded and on the verge of death is satisfaction enough. We should be glad. But, alas, this can only be done once; repeat it, and we’d set ourselves aflame.”

“His Majesty is too much. We are all founding ministers, yet he lets a child insult us at will. Though he rewards us with gold and silver, what is that compared to our losses and our dignity? Is it compensation?” General Liu Deyu spoke with resentment. Cai Cong had trampled their finances, beaten them into helplessness, while Li Shimin did nothing but offer money to make up for it.

Yet their families had become the laughingstock of Chang’an, called “the Emperor’s sparrows,” likened to birds fed by the imperial household.

“Heh, His Majesty is the Son of Heaven—what can we do but submit? Still, this time we have vented our anger. If only we could announce to the world that it was by our hand Cai Cong was struck down!” Zhang Liang raised his cup and drank, his words heavy with resentment toward Li Shimin.

“In fact, it isn’t impossible. Prince Yian and I are old acquaintances. From what I see, he has the look of a dragon and the antlers of a deer. If we could… heh heh…” Changsun Anye broke off, smiling meaningfully at those present. He had long been discontent; Li Shimin favored Changsun Wuji over him, granting one supreme power and leaving the other to guard the gates. If he could support a new sovereign, why should he not rise to greatness?

“Brother Anye, you’ve had too much. Best go home and rest.” Zhang Liang, startled by his words, sobered at once and replied coldly. Li Shimin commanded a host of generals and strategists; could a mere Prince Yian hope to seize the throne?

“If we emulate the Xuanwu Gate Incident, great things could be done…”

“Enough! While I resent Cai Cong, I will never betray His Majesty. I shall pretend I heard nothing today. Brother Anye, please see yourself out!” Zhang Liang cut him off and, in a ringing voice, declared his loyalty, then personally showed his guest out. The other noblemen watched in silence. None would place their bets lightly, unless they saw certain victory.

Liu Deyu seemed somewhat tempted, but with so many present, he dared not speak out. He merely observed, resolving to find Changsun Anye in private in the coming days.

Witnessing all this, Changsun Anye’s own drunkenness faded. He bitterly regretted his loose tongue—how could such things be said in public?

Yet what was done could not be undone. Flustered, he stammered, “Ha, I’ve had too much to drink. Forgive my reckless words—mere drunken ramblings. Please, do not spread them, or you’ll be the ruin of your brother! Farewell, farewell!”

With that, he left Zhang Liang’s house in disgrace, growing more agitated the farther he went. Fearing the others would not keep his secret, he hurried home to write to Li Xiaochang, urging him to act quickly before dreams turned to dust.