Chapter 83: The Cold-Bloodedness of the Aristocratic Clans

Wei Zheng departed from Chang’an, spurring his horse forward with imperial physicians and attendants, racing toward Zhengzhou. His heart was heavy with anxiety. Cai Cong had suffered a grievous setback this time, and who knew what sort of revenge he would seek? Yet Li Shimin had pushed him forth to shoulder the blame, making him responsible for the affairs in Shandong, while also placing him under Cai Cong’s authority—it was clear that he was being used as bait to draw the attention of the aristocratic clans.

All he wished for now was to arrive in Zhengzhou as soon as possible, to minimize the damage before things spiraled out of control. Taking the blame was inevitable; he had already come to terms with it.

What he truly feared was that, should the Shandong clans unite, it would be enough to plunge the empire into chaos. One must not forget how many officials and generals were closely tied to these families—even a collective refusal to attend court would be enough to throw the entire administration into disorder, and then the nation would be in peril.

As he journeyed far from Chang’an, Chunyu’s carriage was also heading toward Zhengzhou, while the palace eunuchs from Qingning Palace, carrying the imperial edict and the court physicians, had already set out.

Li Chengqian and Li Tai deliberated for a long time, contemplating sneaking out to Zhengzhou to visit Cai Cong, but in the end, they dared not go. Instead, they sent a eunuch with some silver to see Cai Cong. They thought that, since Cai Cong loved money so much, he would surely be pleased to see it—though the sum was small. Not yet of age to perform their capping ceremonies, their financial authority was still firmly held by Empress Zhangsun.

By the time Wei Zheng arrived at the borders of Zhengzhou, the Prefecture Governor’s Mansion was a hive of activity. Though no one could gain entry, for the officials, the chance to curry favor with the emperor’s favored minister was a rare opportunity. The local gentry, however, were terrified—the memory of hundreds beheaded was still fresh in their minds.

Old Meng, indifferent to who came, forbade entry to the rear quarters; the entire area was tightly guarded, even the close kin of Gongsun Neng could not bring anyone in or out. Even maids and servants were subjected to repeated inspections before being allowed passage.

But that morning, seven men arrived whom even Cai Cong could not ignore: Zheng Li of the Zheng family, Wang Shan of the Wang family, Cui Yan of the Cui family, Li Xian of Longyou, Li Shuang of Zhao Commandery, Cui He of Boling, and Lu Xing of Fanyang.

These names might have been unfamiliar to the younger generation, but to those who served at court, the visit of any one of them would warrant a grand welcome—a visit to be regarded as the highest honor.

These were the patriarchs of the Five Surnames and Seven Clans, the true wielders of power in the most illustrious houses of the Tang. If Li Xian of Longyou came to Chang’an, even Li Shimin would personally greet him at the palace gates—because he was Li Shimin’s uncle, the grand elder of the Longyou Li clan.

With the patriarchs of the Seven Clans visiting, Gongsun Neng flung open the main gates and led his retinue to the street to await them. Even Cai Cong had to show deference, sending Old Meng as his representative to greet them.

Seven carriages, so opulent their luxury could scarcely be discerned, rolled slowly forward. Their attendants and servants lined the entire street, the ceremonial procession outshining even the highest provincial officials in grandeur.

“Humble student Gongsun Neng bows to the seven venerable elders,” he announced.

“Greetings to the seven venerable elders,” the others echoed, kneeling respectfully upon the ground.

A gentle laugh sounded from one of the carriages, followed by an aged voice: “Governor Gongsun, there is no need for such ceremony. We are but old men with one foot in the grave—unworthy of such honors.”

“You jest, Elder Wang,” Gongsun Neng replied politely. “You are all the treasures of our Great Tang; even the highest honors are but your due. The imperial envoy is injured and cannot greet you in person, so I have been instructed to welcome you here and invite you into the mansion.”

With these words, Gongsun Neng personally helped the seven elders down from their carriages and led the way, like an obedient child, his usual gubernatorial authority set aside.

The governor’s mansion remained strictly guarded; only the seven elders and a few of their grandchildren were permitted inside. The rest, no matter their status, were barred. The elders simply smiled, agreeing that such caution was wise.

Cai Cong had already been carried into the main hall. Though his wounds had closed, he remained extremely weak, his complexion as pale as snow. Seeing Gongsun Neng usher the seven elders in, he smiled and cupped his hands in greeting: “It is a great honor to receive you, but I regret not being able to greet you personally. Please forgive me for not rising.”

“Ha ha ha... There’s no need for such words. We come unannounced; as long as you do not blame us, all is well,” boomed the Lu patriarch, dressed in ancient robes of wide sleeves. Yet the seven made no formal greeting, each finding a seat as they pleased.

“We have some matters to discuss with the imperial envoy,” Li Xian said bluntly. As a revered patriarch and uncle to the emperor, he paid Gongsun Neng no heed. Glancing at Old Meng and the others, he smiled, “We are but old men—surely you don’t think we would kill the envoy?”

He waited for Old Meng to respond, expecting him to withdraw with his men. Yet Old Meng and his companions remained as immovable as pillars, hands on their weapons, not sparing the elders a glance.

Cai Cong, ever smiling, said nothing. In his current state, these seven elders could easily kill him—and they needn’t even do it themselves. He would not take such a risk.

“Indeed, men of loyalty and righteousness,” Li Xian said, a flash of anger in his eyes, though he nodded in reluctant approval.

“If there is business, speak plainly. We are rough men—our duty is to protect the marquis,” Old Meng replied woodenly, not even glancing at the elders.

“Ha! The envoy truly knows how to command loyalty,” the Lu patriarch said heartily to Cai Cong. With that, Li Xian fell silent, and one of his grandsons began to prepare tea. Clearly, the Lu patriarch had been chosen as their spokesman.

Cai Cong responded with a reserved smile and a nod, saying nothing. They had sent assassins after him—did they expect him to show a pleasant face? With a wave, he dismissed the others, leaving only Old Meng behind.

“It seems the envoy harbors some misunderstandings toward our seven clans. Today, we old men have come for two reasons: first, to meet the legendary sage who traverses the spirit realm; second, to assure you that the Seven Clans, along with the Shandong gentry, will spare no effort in cooperating with the envoy for disaster relief. The nine envoys across the provinces have encountered no obstacles, and the relief work should soon be completed, ready for a report to the throne.”

The Lu patriarch spoke cheerfully, his gaze upon Cai Cong full of admiration; he looked at his own grandson, however, with a hint of disapproval.

“Oh?” Cai Cong looked at him in surprise, his expression finally shifting from indifference to a touch of puzzlement.

“Our seven families have endured for a thousand years. If we were only selfish, how could we have lasted so long? It is only that some of our juniors lack vision and have caused chaos in Shandong—an embarrassment, truly.”

“Heh. If you do wrong, there must be consequences. Otherwise, whom can the wronged—the dead, the bereaved—turn to for justice?” Cai Cong replied with serene calm, though a chilling murderous intent filled the hall.

“That is only right. Our Lu family has caned nineteen people to death, including my own sixth son.”

“Our Wang family punished thirteen, including my own grandson.”

“Our Zheng family had no time to act; the envoy had already dealt with them.”

“Our Longyou clan...”

The seven elders recited the names as though discussing the deaths of mere dogs and not their own sons and grandsons, their indifference enough to send chills down the spine.

Upon awakening, I found my work had been recommended; I am quietly elated. My gratitude to all the readers who have supported me—a humble request for recommendations and votes.

(End of chapter)