Chapter 104: Keeping a Low Profile

Located south of the Daming Palace, Yongfu and Xingning Wards formed a sprawling complex of buildings. In the early Kaiyuan era, this area was reserved as residences for the adult imperial princes, known as the “Ten Princes’ Mansions.” As the number of grown princes increased, the scale expanded accordingly, and it came to be called the “Sixteen Princes’ Mansions.”

In truth, neither the Ten nor the Sixteen Princes’ Mansions could fully capture its vastness, for by the late Kaiyuan period, Emperor Xuanzong had fathered thirty-seven sons and twenty-nine daughters. Excluding seven who died young, thirty sons reached adulthood—a remarkable feat in the millennia of Chinese imperial history.

By the eleventh year of the Tianbao reign, not only had this number not diminished, it was steadily growing. At that time, he already had over a hundred imperial grandsons, and nearly thirty great-grandsons. Had it not been for the upheaval that followed, no one could have surpassed his contribution to the population growth of the Tang Dynasty.

This area was not unfamiliar to twenty-five-year-old Li Chu. Before his father was named crown prince, he had lived here for ten years—just about the age of his own eldest son, Li Shi, at present.

Their destination was the Prince Qing’s Mansion, formerly the Prince Tan’s Mansion, situated at the very front of Yongfu Ward. As the bestowed residence of the eldest imperial son, Li Cong, the first among the princes to establish a mansion, it occupied a considerable expanse.

As nephews and younger relatives, it was only natural to pay respects. During such a delicate period, discretion was paramount—words often repeated by their father and grandfather, and they readily complied.

Hence, they had deliberately chosen this time. Lingzi had already been interred. After leaving the mansion, Li Chu and several cousins paid their respects to make up for any omitted formalities. No one could reproach them. Yet, when Li Chu saw the Prince Qing’s Mansion surrounded by the Flying Dragon Imperial Guards, he instantly sensed that their chosen time was indeed extraordinary.

The emperor had arrived.

Like them, Emperor Xuanzong had only come after Lingzi’s departure from the mansion. Sitting alone in the empty mourning hall, he still recalled the scene when his first son was born. Those days had been unbearable—his father bearing the hollow title of crown prince, living cautiously under the watch of the most severe mother in history. Even their grandsons fared no better.

Although sometimes his grandmother showed moments of kindness, even appreciation, it did not prevent her from coldly executing the biological mother of one of her grandsons. From as far back as he could remember, power had taken deep root in his heart. The bloodshed and intrigue of Chang’an were as common as everyday meals. Though terrifying, they fostered growth.

History can be cruel. In the generations that followed, each emperor was succeeded by his eldest son, yet none proved as formidable an heir. Eunuchs even rose to power over the throne. Perhaps the imperial family’s fortune was the nation’s misfortune.

Xuanzong’s eldest son was fortunate to avoid all turmoil, living peacefully until his fifties—a death not premature enough to be considered tragic. Yet, for any father, the firstborn is always somewhat special, holding the deepest place in memory.

When Li Chu and Li Shi were ushered in by Gao Lishi, the grief that Emperor Xuanzong had scarcely contained vanished completely. Seeing his young grandson, he was immediately reminded of the day his eldest son came of age.

In a daze, he seemed to see again the scene of his eldest son’s parting to his own mansion, his dignified presence as he came to express gratitude. Then a voice sounded.

“Grandson, together with the eldest son, pays respects to Great Grandfather. May you be well, Great Grandfather.”

A faint smile curved Emperor Xuanzong’s lips. After the palace coup late in the Kaiyuan era, all his sons had become cautious and subdued—especially the third son, Li Heng, who had been made crown prince. Not yet forty, he looked older than his father, bent-backed and prematurely white-haired, and never dared to raise his voice.

This brought a kind of calm to the palace, but it was dull and joyless. If not for a bright, outspoken soul, what pleasure was there in forty years of rule?

Strangely, this taciturn man had fathered a clever grandson. Among the hundreds of imperial grandsons, only a handful were remembered by Emperor Xuanzong’s name. The one before him left the deepest impression. No wonder rumors inside and outside the palace claimed the crown prince’s position had withstood storms thanks to this grandson.

At least now, this rumor seemed somewhat credible, for this grandson could lift Emperor Xuanzong from the sorrow of losing a child in his old age. His gaze lingered on Li Chu a moment before shifting to the younger boy beside him.

“All right, come over here. Is this Shi, your elder brother? He’s grown quite a bit.”

Ten-year-old Li Shi was no stranger to this great-grandfather. Unlike his father, who was somewhat reserved, he obediently stood before Emperor Xuanzong, hands lowered, showing none of the usual childlike liveliness.

“Great Grandfather has a good memory. He was born the year the era changed. You were so pleased you granted him the name ‘Shi.’ Even the grandsons don’t have such fortune,” Li Chu replied with a grin, acting the doting young grandson.

“Ten years old already, huh.” Emperor Xuanzong nodded, pointing to the ancestral tablet in the center. “Good boy, go pay respects to your eldest uncle.”

Ten is an awkward age—too old to be cradled, yet still keen to tease with a precocious manner. Seeing this, Emperor Xuanzong gave up on any further scrutiny. There were countless grandchildren like this; nothing special.

After the two solemnly completed the rites, they lingered to keep Emperor Xuanzong company. Given the delicate circumstances, jokes were inappropriate. Li Chu shared some amusing anecdotes from the city and trivial family matters, striking a balance between dullness and disrespect.

“...That thirteenth prince is somewhat talented. When Yongshu personally invited me, I went once. I had just two cups of plain wine and watched a few songs and dances. I returned before curfew. Father said I was just entertaining myself with singing and punished me with a month’s house arrest. I even missed the polo match against the Uighurs on the seventh day.”

“What sort of place is Pingkang Ward to make you call out the heavens?” Emperor Xuanzong lightly patted his ceremonial robe, waiting for more.

“How would I know?” Li Chu feigned grievance, scratching his head. “They all said the performance was rare, brought by the East House owner from Dashi at great cost, but only staged for three nights. Naturally, I was curious.”

“What extraordinary songs and dances? We already have an alliance with Dashi. There’s no shortage of performers. They’re just trying to fool you.” Speaking of performances, Emperor Xuanzong’s confidence was strong; he waved his hand dismissively.

“If they spent so much, why only three nights? Are they holding it back as a rare treasure, waiting to sell it at a higher price?”

Li Chu shook his head. “I investigated and heard there’s a ban in the ward on loud noises recently. It’s not just their place.”

Emperor Xuanzong’s expression stiffened, his gaze sharpening without realizing it. Li Chu met his eyes unflinchingly, as a child presenting his homework to an elder, making it impossible for him to be harsh.

After a moment of silent staring, Emperor Xuanzong finally shook his head in resignation. “You clever little monkey.”

The mind of an emperor is a tangle of contradictions. On one hand, he demands absolute loyalty from ministers and even his own family; on the other, he hopes his sons will be capable enough to uphold the realm after his passing. When such contradictions cannot be reconciled, he unconsciously places hope in the next generation—if the son fails, there is always the grandson.

“My grandson is mischievous and often angers his father. His nature is unlikely to change, so I constantly urge the eldest boy not to follow his father’s example.”

Emperor Xuanzong’s words made Li Chu smile. He pulled Li Shi’s hand. “No wonder this child is just like his great-grandfather. Since you understand your faults, I’ll punish you with a task.”

“Please command, Great Grandfather.”

“Gao Lishi.” Emperor Xuanzong called out, and the trusted eunuch, hiding somewhere nearby, immediately appeared.

“Your servant is here.”

“Find a fine jade ruyi scepter. Have Prince Guangping present it to Master Chiying.”

Gao Lishi quietly acknowledged and personally led them out of the mansion. The moment they stepped outside, Li Chu felt a chill on his back—the lining of his robe was soaked through, and the wind now brought a sharp cold.

That subtle test, without any preamble or fallback, had been a perilous gamble. Li Chu had no idea the emperor planned to visit the Prince Qing’s Mansion today—it was entirely spontaneous. Fortunately, his intentions were seen through but aroused no suspicion, and he even gained an unexpected benefit. Taking this risk was worthwhile.

This was the difference between the current dynasty and that of the Empress Wu. In the same circumstances, Emperor Xuanzong, as a grandson, would never dare play such tricks before his grandmother. To probe the emperor’s mind was a grave taboo for ministers and even grandsons.

For this, Li Chu staked twenty-five years of favor and the loyalty of the entire Crown Prince’s Mansion.