LFHYB -Chapter 50 A Scholar in the Prime of Youth

Li Yuan and Yuwen Bi reported the marriage to Yang Guang.

Yang Guang was first somewhat surprised. After learning that it was Yuwen Bi’s granddaughter who had named Li Xuanba as her chosen match, he laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. “I never expected you to have taught such a granddaughter!”

Yuwen Bi replied, “This old man has spoiled her too much. My grandson has just passed away, and I truly couldn’t bear to refuse my granddaughter’s request.”

Yang Guang did not harbor particularly deep hostility toward Yuwen Bi. The one he had always targeted was Gao Jiong. Yuwen Bi was close to Gao Jiong and was also too fond of remonstrating, which was why he had incurred Yang Guang’s displeasure.

Compared to Gao Jiong, whose prestige at court was overwhelming, Yuwen Bi was merely an ordinary old minister. If not for his close friendship with Gao Jiong, Yang Guang would not have gone after him.

After both Gao Jiong and Yuwen Bi withdrew from the center of court affairs to compile books, Yang Guang finally felt relieved. Though he was still wary of Gao Jiong, he no longer paid much attention to Yuwen Bi.

With Yuwen Bi having stepped away from power, his family no longer had any truly useful people at court, and relied only on the surname “Yuwen” to command respect. In Yang Guang’s eyes, Yuwen Bi’s granddaughter marrying Li Xuanba was clearly a case of her marrying up.

Since children’s marriages were ultimately decided by their parents, and Li Yuan and Yuwen Bi had already agreed, Yang Guang did not refuse.

After all, he had previously said that once Li Yuan and Lady Dou had chosen someone, he would simply grant the imperial marriage. Even though he felt this match somewhat wronged Li Xuanba, he could not go back on his imperial word.

Afterwards, he kept Li Yuan behind and asked, “I know Li Sanlang is cautious and doesn’t want to marry a wife from too powerful a family. But Yuwen Bi’s granddaughter has nothing but her pedigree—none of her father or brothers are capable. Aren’t you being a little unfair to Li Sanlang?”

Li Yuan sighed. “I thought the same. But when Dade heard that Miss Yuwen admired him, he immediately agreed to the match. He even seemed rather pleased with himself.”

Yang Guang froze, then laughed. “What kind of reasoning is that?”

Li Yuan said, “He’s just… very pleased.”

Yang Guang rubbed his forehead and laughed. “I didn’t expect Dade to have such a side to him.”

Li Yuan said, “Though Dade appears precociously mature in public, deep down he’s still a child. But in my opinion, Miss Yuwen really is quite good. I don’t know who was so loose-mouthed, spreading rumors that whoever married my Dade would soon be widowed. After people heard that Your Majesty intended to arrange his marriage, many families reacted as if their parents had died—hmph.”

Yang Guang’s expression darkened. “That really happened?”

Li Yuan said, “I understand they cherish their daughters, but Dade is proud and high-spirited. If he married a high-born noblewoman who was unwilling to marry him, the two of them might well become a resentful couple. Miss Yuwen’s family background is poorer, but simply because she admires Dade, my wife and I already think very highly of her.”

Yang Guang thought for a moment and sighed. “You’re right. With Dade’s talent, he doesn’t need support from his wife’s family. Marrying a woman who has feelings for him is far better than marrying a high-born lady who comes unwillingly.”

Though Yang Guang was emperor and didn’t place much importance on romantic love in his own life, he would occasionally praise sincere affection in the world.

Without abundant emotion, he wouldn’t have been able to write such fine poetry.

Li Yuan smiled. “Exactly. As parents, we only hope our children will be safe and happy. Everything else comes second.”

Yang Guang said, “Hearing you say that, I also feel that Miss Yuwen really is a good match for Dade.”

In his heart, Yang Guang sighed—Empress Xiao’s plans had come to nothing.

When Yang Guang had asked Empress Xiao to arrange a wife for Li Xuanba, she had immediately requested a list of candidates from the Xiao clan.

But because of Li Xuanba’s reputation for frail health, the Xiao family was unwilling to let girls of good family marry him. Empress Xiao had spent a lot of effort trying to persuade them—only for Yuwen Bi to snatch the opportunity first.

After Empress Xiao learned that Li Yuan and Lady Dou had already settled the marriage, she tactfully tried to have Yang Guang push the matter.

But after hearing Li Yuan’s words, Yang Guang thought that if it were himself, so long as he didn’t care about his wife’s family background, he would also prefer someone who genuinely liked him.

A family like the Xiao clan, hesitating and refusing like that, was simply distasteful.

Yang Guang then summoned Li Xuanba and asked for his opinion, wanting to see him embarrassed.

When Li Xuanba learned about the “pleased with himself” story Li Yuan had made up for him, the corner of his mouth twitched.

He answered honestly, “I wasn’t pleased with myself. I just felt it was a matter of fate.”

Li Xuanba told Yang Guang how, back on the dragon boat, Yuwen Bi had noticed that his own grandson was born frail just like Li Xuanba, and so transferred his affection to Li Xuanba and took extra care of him.

“After that, I corresponded with Teacher Yuwen’s grandson, and Miss Yuwen came to know me through those letters,” Li Xuanba said. “When Teacher Yuwen came to my home to propose, I only then found out that the herbal tea he had given me was actually prepared by Miss Yuwen.”

Yang Guang marveled. “Such a coincidence?”

Li Xuanba nodded.

Yang Guang smiled. “Most men and women in this world marry blindly. To have such a connection even before marriage—how is that not a match ordained by Heaven? No wonder you agreed at once.”

Though Li Xuanba could not possibly have real feelings for his future wife at this point, Yang Guang’s words still made his face warm.

Seeing Li Xuanba’s shy expression, Yang Guang beckoned him closer and had him sit beside him.

Yang Guang said, “The empress wanted you to marry into the Xiao family and asked me to decide. But in my view, since the Xiao family looks down on you—so much so that they dragged their feet even when the empress personally proposed—then it’s better not to be connected with them. Grow up quickly and serve me well, so that one day you can make the Xiao family regret it.”

Hearing Yang Guang’s slightly teasing words, Li Xuanba felt rather complicated.

At this moment, Yang Guang was speaking purely as an elder to him.

Human nature really was complex. In his interactions with Yang Guang, Li Xuanba had more than once thought, “The Sui Emperor Yang is actually not such a bad person.”

But that thought was fleeting and would not affect Li Xuanba’s decisions.

Li Xuanba said, “Not only the Xiao family—my mother has been frantic over my marriage and has run into walls countless times. In the future, your nephew will definitely make them all regret it.”

Yang Guang patted Li Xuanba on the head encouragingly. “Good ambition!”

Li Xuanba squeezed out a proud smile.

Today Yang Guang had not summoned Li Shimin, only Li Xuanba. With no one to help him act, Li Xuanba had to handle everything himself.

Yang Guang said, “I heard from the crown prince that you are very close to the Prince of Qi. Has he truly improved lately?”

Li Xuanba pondered for a moment. From Yang Guang’s tone and expression, he guessed that Yang Guang currently had no suspicions toward the Prince of Qi and was genuinely concerned about his second son.

Li Xuanba sighed and said, “His Highness the Prince of Qi has always been good—he’s just too kind to people and unwilling to doubt those around him. In my view, all those bad rumors about him come from some of the servants in the Prince of Qi’s household. But His Highness is simply unwilling to deal with the people around him.”

The Prince of Qi was of course not completely innocent, but speaking to the prince’s own father, Li Xuanba naturally would not say it was the Prince of Qi’s fault.

Yang Guang nodded. “Lacking discernment in judging people is a grave flaw.”

Li Xuanba said, “But as the Prince of Qi’s friend, I really like that side of him. Being protected behind His Highness truly makes one happy.”

Yang Guang laughed. He tapped Li Xuanba on the head and said, “Smooth talker.”

Li Xuanba rubbed his head and smiled. “Being protective is both His Highness’s weakness and his strength.”

Yang Guang smiled. “That’s true. In that respect he’s very much like me—just not yet mature.”

Li Xuanba asked curiously, “Since everything around His Highness the Prince of Qi is under Your Majesty’s control, why doesn’t Your Majesty help him prune away those bad branches around him?”

Yang Guang sighed. “I want Prince Qi to grow up on his own. Let’s wait a bit longer—if he’s still this childish, then I’ll step in myself.”

He then asked Li Xuanba about his studies and praised his learning.

When Li Xuanba expressed curiosity about lands beyond the borders of the Sui, Yang Guang handed him his own token, allowing him to act freely.

Recalling Li Xuanba’s earlier suggestion of using trade as a pretext to investigate overseas affairs, Yang Guang told him to handle it as he saw fit and to draw on imperial funds whenever he needed.

Yang Guang said, “If I’m away on inspection tours, you can go directly to the Crown Prince or Prince Qi.”

After a moment’s thought, he added, “Better go to Prince Qi—give him something proper to do.”

Li Xuanba smiled. “Since Your Majesty agrees, if my actions end up causing a bit of a stir, Your Majesty will have to protect me.”

Yang Guang burst into laughter. “I’d like to see just how much trouble you, this little runt, can stir up.”

After bestowing many rewards on Li Xuanba, Yang Guang kept his promise and personally decreed the marriage between Li Xuanba and Miss Yuwen.

For the first time, he also publicly mentioned the idea of “disciples of the Son of Heaven,” saying that Li Xuanba was likewise his own student. When Li Xuanba and Miss Yuwen married, he would personally provide part of her dowry.

Empress Xiao sighed repeatedly and couldn’t help sending people to complain to her natal family.

She understood Yang Guang very well. From his perspective, the Xiao family’s lukewarm response to her attempt to arrange a match for Li Xuanba was not merely looking down on Li Xuanba—it was also defying his wishes.

Empress Xiao said to Xiao Yu’s wife, “Just wait—you will all regret this!”

After hearing about the matter, Xiao Yu grew very curious about Li Xuanba. What kind of ability did this boy have, to be so highly valued by the Emperor?

Still, curiosity aside, Xiao Yu was quite glad that the Duke of Tang’s household had the sense to find Li Xuanba a wife from a family with an empty pedigree and no real power, instead of putting great noble houses like theirs in an awkward position.

No matter how capable Li Xuanba might be, what was the point if he wouldn’t live to grow up? Among great families, there were not many eligible daughters whose fathers held high office, and every one of them was important. They weren’t small households that needed to gamble on “potential.”

At last, the storm surrounding Li Xuanba’s marriage came to an end, but his reputation once again spread across the realm because of it.

Even Jiangdu now knew that Li Xuanba was deeply favored by the Emperor. Members of Lady Wan’s natal family came to complain to her, asking why she had not told them—after all, the Wan family of Jiangdu had daughters of marriageable age.

Lady Wan could only sigh.

Once she had married into the Duke of Tang’s household, how could they possibly allow a Jiangdu Wan girl to become a legitimate wife of their sons? No matter how gentle Lady Dou was, this was something she would never compromise on.

What Lady Wan did not understand was why Lady Dou had not chosen someone from the Dou clan instead.

Afterwards, Li Yuan also asked Lady Dou about this.

Lady Dou sighed. “Do you think I didn’t try? It was the same as with the Xiao clan—those with good family backgrounds were unwilling, and those with poor ones I was unwilling to accept. My Dade is wonderful in every way—how could I let people pick and choose him? It’s a good thing I didn’t give in. Miss Yuwen is so good; she can see Dade’s excellence.”

Li Yuan, already thoroughly “brainwashed” by Lady Dou, also praised Miss Yuwen endlessly. “Exactly—Miss Yuwen really has good taste.”

…

“Look, all of these are invitations for you,” Li Shimin said, laying out the cards in a row. “You’re really famous now.”

Li Xuanba glanced at them. “Which one do you want to go to?”

Li Shimin grinned, revealing two rows of snowy but slightly gapped teeth. “All of them!”

He had been cooped up at home with Li Xuanba for so long that he was practically bursting.

“Then we’ll go one by one,” Li Xuanba said.

Li Shimin was startled. “You’re really going to all of them?”

Li Xuanba nodded. “We’re already nine years old, and we even hold official posts. It’s time for us to show our faces.”

Recently, Li Xuanba had been studying poetry hard. For ordinary games like feihualing and other linked-verse challenges, he could handle them.

These days no banquet lacked poetry games, but the poems recited at banquets didn’t really pay attention to meter, so they were easy to deal with.

For example, in feihualing, a keyword is chosen and everyone links verses in turn. If the theme were “moon,” and Li Xuanba were third, he would only need to produce a line whose third character was “moon.” No one cared about rhythm or elegance.

With rules like that, even Li Bai and Du Fu couldn’t produce famous lines, so Li Xuanba had nothing to worry about.

Later, when the theme suited him, he could use appropriate famous lines to reinforce his “poet” persona. He wouldn’t need to recite whole poems—one or two lines would be enough.

When asked to show real talent, he would write ci lyrics instead.

Ci was still in its formative stage; if he fixed the tune patterns and formalized them, he could become the foremost ci writer of the age, and his “genius” persona would be set—then all the frustrated literati would come flocking to him on their own.

Although Li Xuanba was only nine by actual age and ten by nominal age, he already held office and was betrothed. To the outside world he would be treated as an adult—perfectly suitable for showing off.

Li Shimin laughed. “All right. Just take care of yourself—don’t fall ill at the banquets. Leave the games to me and the poetry to you!”

“Mm,” Li Xuanba replied.

Li Shimin held out his fist, and the brothers bumped fists.

The twin sons of the Duke of Tang were about to make their names known again. Let’s go!

Li Xuanba said he would go out to attend banquets, and the very next day he did.

The first one he attended was Prince Qi Yang Xian’s Qu Shui Liu Shang banquet.

Yang Xian had just arrived in Luoyang and, freshly “unbanned,” couldn’t wait to hold a feast. Naturally, Li Xuanba had to give this cousin of his face first.

Yang Xian personally came to the gate to welcome Li Shimin and Li Xuanba.

Seeing the bow on Li Shimin’s back, he joked, “What, you even brought your own bow—afraid the ones here won’t suit you?”

Li Shimin replied, “It’s best to use what you’re used to. When I get even better, then I’ll be able to use any bow.”

Yang Xian said, “I’ve heard your archery is excellent, that you’ve inherited quite a bit of the Duke of Tang’s skill. I’ve specially prepared extra prizes for the archery events—let’s see how many you can win.”

Li Shimin rubbed his nose, grinning proudly. “It’s not just archery—pitch-pot, polo, I can do them all!”

Yang Xian glanced at Li Shimin’s skinny arms and legs and said with disdain, “Pitch-pot and archery are one thing, but polo? With those short little arms of yours, can you even reach a ball on the ground?”

Li Xuanba said, “Your Highness the Prince of Qi could let my second brother ride a donkey—ow!”

Li Shimin lifted his foot and kicked his younger brother.

Yang Xian burst out laughing.

Everyone knew Yang Xian was proud and aloof, yet he had personally gone to welcome Li Shimin and Li Xuanba, two children. That alone astonished the sons of nobles and made them look at the two brothers with new respect.

When Yang Xian led them into the banquet hall, everyone present rose to pay their respects.

As Li Xuanba and Li Shimin returned the greetings, they silently ran through all the names in their minds.

Most of these young nobles were nobodies—but one person caught Li Xuanba’s attention: Xue Shou.

Seeing Li Xuanba looking at him, Xue Shou smiled in a friendly way. “Scholar Li, do you have something you wish to advise me on?”

Li Xuanba shook his head. “I simply admire Lord Xue’s talent. Hearing your name surprised me a little, that’s all.”

Xue Shou was not surprised at all. “My father often praises Scholar Li as well.”

Xue Shou’s father was Xue Daoheng, the most famous poet of the Sui dynasty. Even though Xue Shou had been adopted into another family, he still addressed Xue Daoheng as his father.

Xue Daoheng’s reputation in poetry, from the Southern and Northern Dynasties into the Sui, was roughly comparable to Li Bai and Du Fu in the High Tang—a towering figure acknowledged as the greatest poet of his age.

His temperament was much like Li Bai’s as well—if anything, even more arrogant and self-assured.

Emperor Yang Guang had once treated Xue Daoheng as the “white moonlight and cinnabar mole” of his heart, but Xue Daoheng could never be bothered to flatter him. In the end, Yang Guang “turned love into hatred” and, without even looking for a real charge, ordered Xue Daoheng to commit suicide.

Because of this, Xue Shou swore never to serve the Sui, and later became one of the Eighteen Scholars of the Prince of Qin.

Another one of his brother’s future subordinates—Li Xuanba had just met him.

Anyone Li Xuanba valued, Li Shimin would treat with courtesy; likewise, anyone Li Shimin felt an instant affinity with, Li Xuanba would respect.

“Lord Xue? Could it be the First Poet of Our Age, Minister Xue of the Capital Region?” Li Shimin quickly cupped his hands in greeting. “Sanlang, isn’t this the person you’ve always wanted to visit?”

Xue Shou hurriedly returned the salute. “If Scholar Li wishes to visit my father, my father would certainly be delighted.”

That was no mere politeness.

Xue Daoheng was a devoted admirer—almost a fanatic—of Gao Jiong, and it was precisely this that would get him killed.

Yang Guang already disliked Xue Daoheng. After Gao Jiong had been dead for years, Xue Daoheng still kept praising him, saying how the court would be if Gao Jiong were still alive. Yang Guang thus developed murderous intent.

Pei Yun, eager to please Yang Guang, fabricated a charge for Xue Daoheng: “Though his crimes are obscure, his intentions are deeply disloyal.”

Yang Guang was delighted, praising Pei Yun for inventing such a fine accusation—“You have perfectly captured his treachery.” On that charge, Xue Daoheng was thrown into prison and forced to commit suicide.

Pei Yun’s invention was later picked up by Su Zhe of the Northern Song, who framed Zhang Dun with “Though no crime is proven, his intentions are evil, so he cannot be kept.” Qin Hui of the Southern Song refined it further into the famous phrase: “There may or may not be something.”

Knowing that Xue Daoheng would one day be killed by Yang Guang on such a baseless charge, Li Xuanba had deliberately avoided getting close to him.

Otherwise, with his and Li Shimin’s status as Gao Jiong’s disciples, they could have come and gone freely from Xue Daoheng’s residence long ago.

Perhaps because Gao Jiong had not yet died, Xue Daoheng—though still arrogant and sharp-tongued, offending many people—had written several flattering poems for Yang Guang, delighting him. Now Yang Guang even intended to promote him.

When Li Xuanba attended court to accompany the emperor, Yang Guang had personally told him that his poetic talent was good and that he should learn more from Xue Daoheng. If he could gain even a little of Xue Daoheng’s skill, it would greatly benefit him on the path of poetry.

Since Yang Guang had spoken like that, Li Xuanba no longer avoided Xue Daoheng.

Xue Daoheng himself didn’t matter much; Xue Shou, however, was truly capable—though sadly he would die of illness in the seventh year of Wude.

This year, Xue Shou was only sixteen, a bright young man in his prime, open and straightforward in temperament.

After chatting and laughing for a few moments, Li Shimin and Xue Shou were already walking arm in arm, heading off together to play pitch-pot.

As for Li Xuanba—this taciturn little fellow only needed to stand aside as a decorative accessory once his second brother unleashed his terrifying social skills.

Li Xuanba watched Xue Shou with great interest.

In history, Xue Shou was known as a strategist and a remonstrating minister. Before Wei Zheng joined Emperor Taizong, it was Xue Shou who repeatedly advised the Prince of Qin not to indulge in luxurious palaces and restrained him from excessive hunting.

When reading Xue Shou’s biography, Li Xuanba had once wondered: if Xue Shou had not died young, could Wei Zheng really have become Taizong’s sole “mirror”?

Taizong himself greatly missed Xue Shou. After becoming emperor, he once sighed that if Xue Shou were still alive, the post of Zhongshu Ling—chief minister—ought to have been his. That was the seat later held by Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui.

Because of Xue Daoheng, Li Xuanba had not intended to approach Xue Shou so early.

But now that fate had brought them together, he openly observed this man who later rose so fast that, though recommended by Fang Qiao, he nearly surpassed Fang Qiao himself to become prime minister first.

Li Xuanba had imagined that as one of the Eighteen Scholars of the Prince of Qin and a man famous for blunt remonstrance, Xue Shou would be a refined, steady, scholarly type.

Yet this sixteen-year-old was shoulder to shoulder with his nine-year-old second brother, shouting and yelling during pitch-pot—clapping when he scored, stomping and shaking his head when he missed—no different from the rich youths who fought crickets and walked their dogs in the streets.

Li Xuanba almost suspected this was someone else with the same name.

“A-Xuan, you come too!” Li Shimin shoved an arrow into Li Xuanba’s hand as he stood there spacing out.

Li Xuanba rolled his shoulders and said, “If I miss, don’t laugh at me.”

With that, he threw one arrow straight through the handle of the pot.

Xue Shou had just been about to say “Of course we won’t laugh,” but when Li Xuanba produced a perfect “hanging-ear” shot, the words got stuck in his throat and he nearly choked.

Yang Xian walked over in curiosity. “This prince heard my imperial father say that, Dade, you can hardly hit a target when shooting arrows. So why are you so amazing at pitch-pot?”

Li Shimin laughed. “A-Xuan’s not bad at aiming—he just can’t draw the bow. Pitch-pot doesn’t take much strength, so he won’t lose to anyone.”

Li Xuanba shot him a sideways glance. Another arrow flew from his hand and hooked neatly onto the other “ear” of the pot.

Li Shimin clapped. “Another pierced ear! A perfect hit! Again!”

Yang Xian said, “There are two arrows left. If both go in, I’ll drink an entire jar!”

In pitch-pot, whoever loses has to drink. If all the guests hit their shots, it means the host has lost, and the host drinks. Some guests don’t like alcohol, so they substitute it with writing poetry. Li Shimin and Li Xuanba were still young, so naturally they wouldn’t be drinking.

The host and guests took turns throwing, four arrows each. Yang Xian had already drunk once.

Li Xuanba said, “Your Highness the Prince of Qi, you should drink less. You can clearly hit the pot, yet you keep throwing them outside on purpose. Are you deliberately trying to drink?”

As he spoke, he threw two arrows in succession. Once again, each landed on one of the pot’s two “ears”—not only piercing the ears, but achieving a full hit.

Yang Xian shouted in delight, drawing the attention of everyone around.

One noble youth asked curiously, “Li Sanlang is so good at pitch-pot—can he even throw a xiao-arrow, the hardest one?”

Li Xuanba shook his head. “I don’t have enough strength. I can’t do it.”

A xiao-arrow meant throwing an arrow into the pot so that it bounced out and then fell back in again. With Li Xuanba’s strength, it was impossible for him to make the arrow spring up like that.

Someone snorted. “So it’s true that Li Sanlang is sickly—he can’t even throw a xiao-arrow.”

Li Xuanba looked toward the person who had mocked him.

Yang Xian also cast a cold glance in that direction.

The man met the Prince of Qi’s displeased gaze without the slightest fear.

Xue Shou, who had already become familiar with Li Shimin and Li Xuanba, whispered in their ears, “That’s Yang Jishan, the younger brother of the Duke of Chu.”