Soul Transmigration to the Great Tang

In the sixth month of the second year of the Zhenguan era (628 AD), on a day marked by the Gengyin in the lunar calendar, Li Zhi—the future Emperor Gaozong of Tang—was born in the splendid Lizheng Hall of the Eastern Palace in Chang’an, his arrival announced by a resounding wail.

Li Zhi had actually tried to hold back that first cry. Yet, as it turned out, his efforts were futile; the natural expansion of his lungs at birth was entirely beyond his control. So, once more, the scholar from his previous life—Li Zhi—gained a new piece of knowledge, though it might not prove particularly useful.

As a newborn carrying memories of a past existence, he had yet to discover whose body he now inhabited. Still, having read many online novels in his former life, he found his current predicament not too hard to accept. After all, having a second chance after a failed life could hardly be considered a misfortune.

His former name was Li Zhi, a top student who had earned a doctorate from a prestigious university. He had always been fascinated by mathematics and logical reasoning, and with an exceptional score in the sciences, he was admitted to the physics program of a renowned university. Originally, he could have majored in applied physics and, upon graduation, chosen a stable and respectable research position. But his restless spirit refused to accept an ordinary life.

Thus, he resolutely chose to pursue a combined master’s and doctoral degree in mechanical engineering, preparing to carve out a place for himself in the business world. After receiving his diploma, he began preparations for his own startup and easily secured a loan as a fresh graduate. Using his network, he picked up several school-affiliated research projects, supplying the necessary mechanical equipment.

In the early days of his business, Li Zhi worked with impressive diligence. To meet clients’ demands, he shuttled tirelessly between the production line and his customers, laboring day and night until the equipment met their satisfaction. During this phase, he shared both hardships and successes with his employees, winning such goodwill that clients proactively brought him a flood of new orders.

Everything seemed to unfold according to his plans; his company continued to expand. Yet, success gained too easily sowed the seeds of future disaster.

Wealth that came without effort and his shallow life experience soon caused him to lose his way. He became immersed in endless banquets and socializing, neglecting the management of his company. His employees grew increasingly lax and careless, while projects secured through his connections began to fail, eroding his clients’ trust. Those who once supported him started to distance themselves, declining his invitations.

It was only then that he realized his mistakes and tried to make amends. But he failed to appreciate how easily trust is lost, and how nearly impossible it is to regain. Without support and with his company’s reputation in ruins, he found himself outmatched by competitors and swiftly fell from grace.

The company went bankrupt, and the loans remained unpaid. His employees left without hesitation, unmoved by his previous generosity with their wages. A proud man from childhood, now new to the adult world, he tasted the bitterest hardships of life.

He had not intended to tell his parents about any of this; they had always regarded him as their pride, and he feared they could not bear his failure. But as he was desperately seeking ways to pay back the debt, a collection call reached his father’s phone—while his parents were on their way to visit him. They had hoped to surprise their son, but reality delivered a cruel shock instead.

That day, on the expressway from Suzhou to Shanghai, a car accident claimed both his parents’ lives. No one could comprehend the agony of a proud soul faced with such calamity; Li Zhi, inexperienced in the ways of the world, could not withstand the blow. After burying his parents with the help of relatives, he sought out a lonely corner and ended his own life.

Perhaps the heavens felt they had gone too far with their jest, for they granted him another chance. Now, with his memories intact, he was reborn.

Before he could even open his eyes, he heard a clamor of voices, which quickly revealed much about his new identity.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty, on the birth of your noble son. The little prince is perfectly healthy,” the midwife announced, instantly setting Li Zhi’s mind at ease. A prince—surely, this was an auspicious beginning.

After all, aside from a few fiercely contested palaces, most princes in history enjoyed relatively comfortable childhoods.

As Li Zhi quietly celebrated this fortune, a hearty burst of laughter rang in his ears. Amid a gentle commotion, he felt himself bundled up and carried out of the birthing chamber. Soon after, a slightly calloused finger brushed his cheek, and a powerful voice inquired, “How is Lady Guanyin? Is there anything unusual?”

Lady Guanyin?

The familiar term startled Li Zhi into opening his eyes. That name was deeply etched into his memory: Lady Guanyin was the childhood name of Empress Zhangsun, beloved consort of Emperor Taizong, and one of history’s most revered empresses. Much of Taizong’s enduring legacy was owed to her. If the man before him was speaking of Lady Guanyin, then this must be none other than Li Shimin—Emperor Taizong himself.

Was he really Li Shimin’s son in this life?

Li Zhi felt the fine hairs on his head stand on end. He distinctly recalled that after ascending the throne, Li Shimin and Empress Zhangsun had only one son together, also named Li Zhi.

His suspicions were soon confirmed. Upon seeing the newborn’s eyes open, Li Shimin was delighted and played with him for a while, only leaving after ensuring that Empress Zhangsun was well.

Long after, the infant Li Zhi was still overwhelmed by the enormity of his discovery. Not only was he the son of a legendary emperor, but he also stood a good chance of inheriting the throne.

This revelation excited Li Zhi for a long time; he would often break into silly laughter without warning. Fortunately, in the eyes of others, he was still just a “little baby,” or he might have forever lost his chance at the throne—no one would dare entrust the empire to a fool.

It was fortunate, too, that he was now an infant, giving him the opportunity to remedy many of his shortcomings.