LFHYB – Chapter 2 Li Third Young Master Doesn’t Want to Talk

Li Xuanba was not being paranoid. He was certain that if Grandmother woke up, she would disregard Mother’s fatigue and summon her again to attend to her illness.

The Old Madam Dugu of the Duke of Tang’s household was a pitiable yet admirable great mother.

Old Madam Dugu and the late Duke of Tang, Li Bing, had four sons and one daughter. The eldest son, Li Cheng, died young not long after marrying, leaving no offspring. The second son, Li Zhan, passed away after leaving behind two young sons. The third son, Li Hong, died even more tragically, passing away shortly after birth.

Of the five children, only the married daughter and the youngest son, Li Yuan, remained.

In the year 572 CE, Li Bing died of illness. Li Yuan, only seven years old, inherited the title of Duke of Tang.

Old Madam Dugu, together with two widowed daughters-in-law, raised the young Li Yuan and her two grandsons, shouldering the heavy burden of the Duke of Tang’s household through great hardship.

In 578 CE, the wise and valiant Emperor Wu of Northern Zhou, Yuwen Yong, died young, and the eccentric emperor Yuwen Yun ascended the throne. Li Yuan was only thirteen at the time.

Three years later, in 581 CE, Yang Jian seized power and established the Sui dynasty.

After becoming emperor, Yang Jian immediately tore up his promises. He killed the Northern Zhou Emperor Jing, who had abdicated the throne to him, and carried out a massacre of the Northern Zhou imperial clan according to the household registers, sparing only a handful of collateral relatives to display his so-called benevolence.

During those rapidly turbulent years, Old Madam Dugu sheltered Li Yuan and her grandsons beneath her wings and struggled to keep them safe.

Widows and orphans relying on one another for so many years naturally formed deep bonds. Li Yuan was exceptionally filial.

But this was hardly good news for Lady Dou.

Lady Dou was the daughter of Dou Yi, a Grand Pillar of State of Northern Zhou, and the Princess of Xiangyang, eldest daughter of the Northern Zhou royal house. She had once been raised by Emperor Wu of Northern Zhou himself. Of noble birth, talented and beautiful, and possessing extraordinary insight, she attracted an endless stream of suitors—so many that they nearly wore down the threshold of the Dou residence.

Dou Yi openly sought a son-in-law, requiring the suitors to draw their bows and shoot arrows at the eyes of a peacock screen. Only Li Yuan succeeded. Thus was born the famous tale of “being chosen through the peacock screen.”

Old Madam Dugu had been very enthusiastic when arranging Li Yuan’s marriage to Lady Dou. Yet after Lady Dou entered the household, discomfort took root in Old Madam Dugu’s heart.

Lady Dou had grown up pampered by her family and had won an exceptional husband through the “peacock screen selection.” After marriage, she and Li Yuan were deeply in love, and she immediately demonstrated her capabilities by taking charge of the internal affairs of the Duke of Tang’s household.

There was only one Li Yuan, and the inner quarters of the Duke of Tang’s residence were only so large. Conflict between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law was inevitable. As later generations would put it in Lin Daiyu’s words: either the east wind overpowers the west wind, or the west wind overpowers the east.

When Lady Dou had just become pregnant, Old Madam Dugu, citing Lady Dou’s inconvenient condition, arranged for Li Yuan to take several concubines. One of them was even from the Wan family of Jiangdu, of a status more than sufficient to become a principal wife in an ordinary official household.

Li Yuan was supremely filial, and Lady Dou, too, had to be filial toward her mother-in-law. She could only endure it.

As for Lady Dou’s natal family, by the standards of the era, a man taking concubines while his wife was pregnant was perfectly proper. The Dou family not only did not believe their daughter was being mistreated, they were proud of her virtue and filial piety, praising her as a model wife.

Behind the historical records’ habit of “concealing matters for the honored,” one can glimpse the bitterness of Lady Dou’s early years.

There was a ten-year gap between Lady Dou’s eldest son and her second son. During those ten years, she bore only one daughter—the Princess Pingyang, later titled Zhao. Before Li Shimin was born, Li Yuan already had five daughters, with Princess Pingyang being his third.

The historical records also obliquely note that Old Madam Dugu had a violent temper and was harsh toward others. When she was bedridden with illness, even the two widowed daughters-in-law who had endured hardships alongside her refused to attend her, leaving only Lady Dou to shoulder the burden tirelessly.

The turning point in the relationship between Lady Dou and her mother-in-law came with the birth of Li Shimin and Li Xuanba.

For nearly ten years after taking a wife and concubines, Li Yuan had only one son, Li Jiancheng. Old Madam Dugu was deeply anxious. Finally, Lady Dou gave Li Yuan two more sons.

By then, Lady Dou’s sharp edges had long been worn smooth. She treated her mother-in-law with extreme caution, respect, and tireless diligence. Old Madam Dugu, worn down by years of hardship and often confined to bed by illness, needed Lady Dou’s constant care.

At last, the tension between mother- and daughter-in-law eased. The conflicts in the inner quarters of the Duke of Tang’s household subsided. Lady Dou and Li Yuan’s affection deepened, and Old Madam Dugu frequently praised Lady Dou to others as a good daughter-in-law.

People everywhere praised the Duke and Duchess of Tang as a devoted couple, and spoke of the harmony between Lady Dou and Old Madam Dugu.

Yet Lady Dou’s life was still not entirely smooth.

Old Madam Dugu had been strong and domineering all her life. Now that Li Yuan had been posted elsewhere as an official, she could only rely on her daughter-in-law, and the anxiety in her heart was easy to imagine. For the sake of reassurance, she urgently needed to test Lady Dou’s filial devotion.

According to common practice, in a great household like the Duke of Tang’s, a daughter-in-law attending to her sick mother-in-law would only need to keep watch nearby, leaving the trivial chores to the servants.

The Old Madam Dugu’s other two widowed daughters-in-law had pleaded illness and did not come, but as long as a physician were summoned to expose their lies, they would have no choice but to come and attend her. In theory, Lady Dou should not have been too exhausted.

However, the Old Madam Dugu turned a blind eye to the two widowed daughters-in-law’s evasions and disliked being served by servants. She insisted that Lady Dou personally attend to her.

Lady Dou also had to manage the household and educate the children. Only after her mother-in-law had fallen asleep could she either lie down briefly without changing clothes, eat a hurried meal, or deal with household affairs.

The moment the Old Madam Dugu opened her eyes, Lady Dou had to appear at her bedside at once, ready to be ordered about.

From the perspective of someone from a later age, Li Xuanba felt that his grandmother was deliberately grinding down his mother.

Yet whenever anyone came to visit the grandmother, she would inevitably praise Lady Dou to the skies. Upon hearing this, everyone could only sigh in admiration, remarking on the deep affection between grandmother and daughter-in-law, and on Lady Dou’s benevolence and filial piety.

Perhaps even the two parties involved—the grandmother and the mother—also regarded this as something perfectly ordinary.

Li Xuanba felt heartache for his mother, but there was no way for him to go against the tide of the era. Fortunately, his grandmother treated him and his second brother extremely well, so from time to time he would feign illness, allowing his mother to catch her breath in his quarters.

The excuse he used this time should be enough to let his mother eat a proper meal and take a short nap.

Sure enough, things unfolded exactly as Li Xuanba had expected.

Just as the dishes were set on the table, the Old Madam Dugu sent someone to summon Lady Dou.

When she heard that Li Jiancheng had been playing noisily with friends until midnight, causing Li Xuanba to be short on sleep and unwell, the Old Madam Dugu—out of affection for her two grandsons—did not continue urging Lady Dou to come.

Lady Dou learned of this matter. She said nothing, only lifted Li Xuanba up and kissed him on the forehead.

Li Xuanba was unbearably embarrassed, which made Lady Dou laugh like the tinkling of silver bells.

Li Shimin immediately burrowed into Lady Dou’s arms. “I want one too!”

Smiling, Lady Dou pulled Li Shimin close and kissed his bare little head as well.

Li Shimin was delighted, wriggling and twisting like a knotted rope, nearly squeezing Li Xuanba out.

Li Xuanba had originally wanted to take the opportunity to escape, but Li Shimin suddenly grabbed him as he was about to be squeezed out, insisting that Li Xuanba stay and cling to their mother together with him.

Li Xuanba rolled his eyes repeatedly. It’s scorching hot, ahhh!

[Brother, it’s time to eat.] Li Xuanba reminded him.

Only then did Li Shimin stop acting spoiled and obediently return to his seat.

The servants had already brought out all the food.

The cuisine of the Sui and Tang dynasties was influenced by the ethnic integration after the Wei and Jin periods. The aristocracy favored “Hu food,” with cooking ingredients leaning toward beef and mutton, dairy products, and wheat-based foods. Cooking methods mostly involved roasting and grilling with copious amounts of spices. The bolder and more unrestrained the dishes, the more they highlighted the host family’s nobility.

For example, the giant Hu flatbread called gulouzi, stuffed with a full jin of mutton as filling, was an indispensable dish at aristocratic banquets.

The gap between aristocrats and commoners in the Sui and Tang periods was enormous. For commoners, Hu food was a luxury; their daily diet consisted mainly of millet, coarse rice, wheat porridge, and bean rice, supplemented by vegetables and fruits to stave off hunger. Vegetables rarely appeared on aristocratic tables—they believed vegetables were lowly food meant only for commoners.

Of course, even though aristocrats did not eat vegetables, they did not lack vitamins or dietary fiber. Outside of regular meals, they consumed large quantities of fresh melons and fruits, and also ate mushrooms, bamboo shoots, lotus roots, and other mountain delicacies mixed together with beef and mutton.

At this time, commercial dining was not yet developed.

After Emperor Wen of Sui built Daxing City, the ward-and-market system was implemented. Except during a few festivals, shops could only open during the daytime. Thus, the food culture among commoners was quite rough, and eateries in the wards mostly provided food simply to fill the belly. Aristocratic banquets were all held at home, eating what would now be called “private cuisine.”

At this time, recipes were treasured family heirlooms; when a woman married, she would bring one or two recipes with her as part of her dowry, tucked away at the bottom of her chest.

It was not until the late Zhenguan period and into the High Tang that common people’s lives improved and taverns became more numerous. Yet following the example set from above, even slightly upscale restaurants still focused mainly on bold Hu-style dishes.

By the Song dynasty, the trend of valuing civil affairs and restraining martial pursuits prevailed, and agriculture was no longer prioritized over commerce. Only then did aristocratic cuisine transform from boldness to elegance, and dining culture finally trickle down from the nobility to the common people.

During Sui and Tang banquets, hosts and guests would eat meat in large mouthfuls, drink wine heartily, hold hands, and sing and dance together. During Song banquets, hosts and guests would chew slowly, stroke their beards, sip wine delicately, and watch singing girls and dancers perform graceful routines. Boldness and elegance were merely differences in custom—there was no inherent superiority or inferiority.

The Duke of Tang’s residence was one of the top aristocratic households of the Sui dynasty, so every meal was naturally lavish.

Today, the main dish prepared by the kitchen was roasted suckling pig. Its golden skin was brushed with honey mixed with Western Region spices worth a fortune, while its belly was stuffed with diced mutton, half lean and half fat.

Under the chef’s carefully controlled heat, the fat of the mutton blended with the fat of the suckling pig. The aroma stimulated by pepper and other spices merged together; with just a twitch of the nose, one’s mouth would fill with saliva.

Besides the roasted suckling pig, there was also a stack of enormous roasted Hu flatbreads on the table.

A single plain Hu flatbread, with no filling at all, required a full half liter of refined flour. An ordinary adult needed only two such flatbreads to be full.

But the Duke of Tang’s household did not serve plain flatbreads. These Hu flatbreads were piled high with cheese and diced meat. The melted cheese overflowed onto the plate, and the rich milky fragrance rushed forth.

Lady Dou dismissed the servants. After washing her hands clean in water scattered with flower petals, she took up a small curved knife, bright as snow, and personally cut the meat and flatbread for the two children.

Li Shimin did not use chopsticks. With a knife in one hand and meat in the other, he ate until his mouth was slick with grease.

Li Xuanba, on the other hand, had someone make him a small knife and fork. He slowly cut the flatbread and meat into small pieces and ate them with refinement.

Li Xuanba: [The true orthodoxy of Western food lies in Tang cuisine. What pizza—call it Hu flatbread!]

Li Shimin, chewing on meat, lifted his head to look at Li Xuanba. “What pee-sa… cough, cough, cough!”

Lady Dou, who had just finished washing the grease from her hands, hurried over to pat Li Shimin’s back when he started choking.

She looked helplessly at Li Xuanba. “Sanlang, what did you say to Erlang?”

Li Xuanba said, “I didn’t say anything to him.”

Li Shimin gulped down a large bowl of milk, flushing the meat down his throat. A ring of milk foam formed around his mouth like a beard. “You did! You said something about Western food—pee-sa!”

Li Xuanba said, “I was talking to myself. I didn’t mean for you to hear.”

Li Shimin said, “I didn’t want to hear it either. So what is pee-sa?”

Li Xuanba said, “Hu flatbread, as spoken by the Hu people.”

“Oh.” Li Shimin lost interest. He couldn’t even be bothered to wipe his milk beard, and went back to gnawing on a pork knuckle.

Lady Dou smiled faintly and began to eat.

Li Xuanba shot a glance at his mother, whose eating pace was even slower than his own: [Hurry and ask Mother whether the food doesn’t suit her taste.]

Li Shimin swallowed the meat in his mouth. “Why don’t you ask her yourself? A-Xuan, don’t be lazy—speak up on your own. Mother! A-Xuan wants to know whether the food doesn’t suit your taste!”

Lady Dou showed a tired smile. “It’s a bit greasy. I’ll just eat more fruit later.”

Li Xuanba looked at the table full of roasted meats and baked flatbreads. When someone is utterly exhausted, even the smell of meat can be unbearable. It seemed Mother was truly worn out.

Li Xuanba’s appetite was small. After eating two small bowls of meat and bread, his stomach was already full.

He put down his knife and fork: [Tell Mother I’m going to the kitchen to ask the cook to make her something light.]

Li Shimin said, “A-Xuan, say it yourself!”

But Li Xuanba had already jumped down from his chair and ran off at a trot.

Lady Dou asked in confusion, “What’s wrong with Sanlang? Does he need the latrine?”

Li Shimin let out a deep sigh and said in an old-fashioned, world-weary tone, “A-Xuan went to have the kitchen make some light food for Mother. Sigh—will he ever learn to speak for himself? I’m really afraid he’ll turn into a mute.”

After hearing this, Lady Dou also felt a trace of worry.