Whether Li Jiancheng liked this office or not, Yang Guang insisted he fulfill his duties daily.
Fortunately, since Li Yuan had just been promoted, no one in court was bringing up the “Xielv Lang” precedent anymore. Everyone assumed the emperor had no ill intentions and that others were overthinking.
Li Jiancheng was dealing with different gossip.
Previously, he had been promoted effortlessly and felt he deserved it. Being a minor official, he didn’t have to take office or deal with colleagues, so workplace relations weren’t an issue.
Now, however, he had to take office, and the workplace dynamics were complex. Although he was the eldest son of the Duke of Tang, not everyone treated him favorably, and he inevitably heard some snide remarks.
Other nobles owed their position to their fathers’ merits; Li Jiancheng’s advantage was compounded by his younger brother’s favor, letting him rise effortlessly. It was enviable indeed.
If Li Xuanba were older, this would just be a courtly norm.
In the court, it was common for those in high positions to bring their brothers and clansmen along in prosperity.
The problem was that Li Xuanba and Li Shimin were still mere children. Two nine-year-olds—one the youngest scholar, the other famous for hunting tigers—yet Li Jiancheng, nearly ten years older, had no reputation.
The Duke of Tang’s household was thriving, attracting envy. Now people finally found something to mock—but could they be any more sarcastic?
Li Jiancheng had just turned twenty (by East Asian reckoning), young and spirited, having been praised since childhood. How could he tolerate such slights?
Before long, Li Jiancheng resigned from his post.
After Yang Guang’s reforms, official ranks were largely minor posts. Aristocratic sons were often impatient with low-ranking offices, so resignations were common.
After resigning, Li Jiancheng felt the sky bluer and the earth greener. He spent his days calling friends for wine and hunting, thoroughly enjoying himself.
Li Yuan fully supported Li Jiancheng’s resignation.
The office had been intended as an insult from the emperor. Had he not feared angering the emperor, he would have helped Li Jiancheng refuse it outright.
Li Jiancheng’s brief service gave the emperor enough face; now the emperor wouldn’t object.
Indeed, Yang Guang paid little attention to Li Jiancheng’s resignation.
Since Li Yuan had already humiliated himself to maintain face on a mission to Japan, Yang Guang, advised by close ministers like Yuwen Shu, believed Li Yuan bore no ill intent—only some resentful nobles tried to stir trouble.
Yang Guang was quick to like or dislike people and held grudges, but now he had no reason to suspect Li Yuan. The previous insults were just a test; Li Yuan had passed, so there was no further trouble with the Duke of Tang’s household.
Li Jiancheng had no desire to serve in court, and Yang Guang had never thought highly of him, so he let it be.
When Li Jiancheng resigned, Li Xuanba had just presented a newly composed ci-poem, particularly the upper half of Mǎn Tíng Fāng, which pleased Yang Guang greatly.
The Mǎn Tíng Fāng Li Xuanba presented was originally by Qin Guan of the Song dynasty, with the upper half:
“Mountains brushed with light clouds, sky meets with withering grass, the sound of the war horn fades at the watchtower. Pause the expedition boats, just lift the parting cup together. How many past tales of Penglai, vainly looking back, smoke and mist swirling. Beyond the setting sun, ten thousand crows, flowing water winds around the lone village.”
The line “Beyond the setting sun, ten thousand crows, flowing water winds around the lone village” became famous in later generations.
In fact, the poem borrowed from Yang Guang’s poem Wild View:
“A few cold crows fly, flowing water winds around the lone village. Where the setting sun descends, all looks dark and soul-sinking.”
Classical writing and poetry prized allusions. Sometimes entire poems could borrow without explicit citation. Later “plagiarism checks” were a moral concept of future generations.
Thus, though Li Xuanba fancied himself a “literary copier,” Li Shimin never minded. Modifying a few words in an existing poem was considered original work in contemporary literary circles. Even if these works were not his own, no one would say he didn’t create them.
For example, in the Song dynasty, the poetic pioneers Su Shi and Huang Tingjian (“Su-Huang”) established the Jiangxi school, emphasizing “transforming and refining, turning iron into gold, every word purposeful”.
For instance, Bai Juyi’s Admonishing Wine, Sent to Yuanjiu had the line “Half of a hundred years’ nights, one spring scarcely many”; Huang Tingjian added four characters: “Half of a hundred years’ nights, one spring scarcely returns,” creating a new poem. Similarly, Wang Anshi’s line “Only in poor homes do silkworms urge the loom, how many families have a single silk thread?” was altered by Huang Tingjian to “Don’t let autumn insects urge the loom, poor homes may still have a few silk threads,” forming a new poem, praised for imitation.
Even though the Jiangxi poetry school no longer exists, their attitude toward “using allusions” remains consistent.
Li Xuanba dismantled Yang Guang’s poem to fit it into lyrics. Yang Guang not only didn’t get angry, he was actually quite pleased.
Yang Guang teased Li Xuanba: “Dade, why only the first half? Could it be that my poem has only four lines, not enough for you to dissect?”
Li Xuanba replied with full confidence: “Yes, Your Majesty, I simply couldn’t do enough!”
The allusions in the second half referenced “the fickle fame of the pleasure quarters.” With his small frame, what could he possibly write about the brothels?
Yang Guang rolled up his sleeves: “Then I’ll add it myself!”
Li Xuanba ground ink for Yang Guang. Inspired, Yang Guang not only completed the lyrics but also improvised another one. Before the ink had dried, he summoned musicians to set it to music and perform it.
Music filled the Luoyang palace, where the refined words of scholars harmonized beautifully with the elegant tones of the melodies.
The ministers summoned to sit with Yang Guang all stroked their beards and smiled, seeing Li Xuanba’s “nonsense” in a new light.
Xue Daoheng, the era’s top scholar, was naturally also called to sit beside them.
His sharp, often biting literary air rarely allowed him to speak a kind word. Yet this time he praised: “I had thought music was frivolous and unworthy of the great halls of propriety. But after scholars set words to it, even formerly shallow melodies can ascend to the heights of refinement.”
Although Yang Guang still resented Xue Daoheng’s previous refusal to serve him, today he was in high spirits and didn’t mind the subtle sarcasm in Xue Daoheng’s praise: “If Minister Xue can compose one or two good lyrics, I shall listen to them every day.”
Xue Daoheng bowed: “Since Your Majesty says so, I shall contemplate them upon my return, surely to exhaust Your Majesty’s patience.”
Pei Yun smiled: “When Minister Xue says ‘exhaust,’ is he referring to the ‘three months forgetting the taste of meat’ mentioned by Confucius?”
Pei Yun had risen from the position of Junior Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices. To please Yang Guang, he had once summoned over thirty thousand musicians across the empire, earning Yang Guang’s favor. He was now Deputy Minister of Civil Affairs.
Although no longer serving in the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, Pei Yun still greatly admired Li Xuanba’s efforts to promote “refined lyrics” among folk music.
The more “elegant” the music Yang Guang liked, the less Pei Yun’s past collection of musicians seemed like flattery-driven scheming.
Xue Daoheng didn’t care for Pei Yun. Yet although sharp-tongued, he wasn’t so tactless as to show disdain for the emperor’s favored ministers in the emperor’s presence.
He laughed: “If truly good lyrics are produced, I know not whether others will abstain from meat, but I myself can go three months without it.”
Seeing Xue Daoheng and Pei Yun chatting harmoniously, Yang Guang felt a rare sense of relief and nostalgia, softening even his murderous thoughts toward Xue Daoheng.
He said to Su Kui: “If Minister Xue writes lyrics, then Berni shall compose the music.”
Su Kui bowed: “I shall not refuse such a duty!”
Su Kui glanced curiously at Li Xuanba, seated beside Yang Guang.
Su Kui was the son of Su Wei, Left Deputy Minister of the Shangshu, the equivalent of prime minister in the Sui dynasty.
During Emperor Wen’s reign, Su Wei had served alongside Gao Jiong in government, but was later dismissed for factionalism. When Yang Guang ascended, he reinstated him.
Su Wei and Gao Jiong’s careers had coincided intriguingly.
When Gao Jiong left the Left Deputy Minister post, Su Wei took it; Gao Jiong became Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices. Later, when Gao Jiong voluntarily resigned to compile books, Su Wei was promoted to Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices but still participated in state affairs under the chancellor’s authority.
Gao Jiong should have been wrongly executed by Yang Guang last year, and Su Wei should have been dismissed for opposing Yang Guang’s Great Wall project. But Su Kui, being the crown prince’s close friend and the Sui dynasty’s most knowledgeable music theorist, was not implicated. He was promoted to Fifth Rank Court Attendant and served Yang Guang closely.
Su Wei was talented but timid, also quite power-conscious. Yang Guang respected him as an elder, but among peers, his reputation was mediocre.
Su Kui, in contrast, was proud and confident, yet well-regarded. Yang Su and Su Wei were friends, often joking to Su Wei: “Yang Su has no son, Su Kui has no father.”
In this timeline, because Gao Jiong and Yuwen Bi had stepped back and not accompanied Yang Guang on tours, they did not lead the opposition to the Great Wall project. Su Wei, though aware of the need to oppose it, was too timid to lead, and thus was not dismissed, remaining Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices.
Su Wei often lamented with Su Kui that the second and third sons of the Tang Duke House were prodigies, yet lacked suitable daughters to marry. Changsun Sheng and Yuwen Bi took advantage of this.
Crown Prince Yang Zhao also praised Li Xuanba and Li Shimin to Su Kui but said that while Li Xuanba was deep-thinking, Li Shimin was open-hearted. The emperor might favor Li Xuanba more, but he personally preferred Li Shimin.
Su Kui trusted his close friend Yang Zhao, so he held a bias against Li Xuanba.
Yet seeing this child truly hold a place as the emperor’s “favored junior,” accompanying him like a prince, Su Kui felt inclined to befriend this lyric-writing scholar.
While Su Kui secretly observed Li Xuanba, Li Xuanba was observing him in return.
Historically, Su Wei had been mocked by Prince Qin Li Shimin for showing off in front of him: “You were a minister of Sui, unable to correct misgovernance, letting the people suffer, leading to your ruler’s murder and state’s fall… Now old and sick, no need to appear before me,” and was denied office.
But both his grandsons were men of Li Shimin.
Changsun Su Xu supported Li Tai’s succession struggle, and Su Dan’s daughter married Li Chengqian as crown princess. Li Chengqian and Li Tai both died depressed after the succession struggle, yet the Su family’s talented descendants continued to serve Emperor Taizong of Tang, their status unaffected. Later, Su Xu became a virtuous minister during the Kaiyuan era, posthumously titled “Wenxian.”
Su Wei’s family upbringing was extraordinary.
Talented individuals always eventually shine. Now, Su Wei’s family would certainly look down on himself and his second brother; Li Xuanba had no intention of engaging with them.
When he saw Su Kui, he recalled the historical story of Prince Qin mocking Su Wei.
Su Xu, one of the eighteen scholars of the Prince Qin Mansion, had long followed Prince Qin Li Shimin. Li Shimin, while favoring Su Xu, mocked Su Xu’s grandfather in front of him—it was just too mischievous.
Second brother, you truly are remarkable.
Li Xuanba resolved to return and spoil the story of how his second brother mocked Su Wei, giving his brother a heavy psychological burden.
“Dade, Minister Xue appreciates your talent? How about taking on another teacher?”
Distracted, Li Xuanba muttered, “Huh? Okay… wait? What just happened?”
Yang Guang clenched his fist and lightly tapped his nephew on the head, half-laughing, half-exasperated: “You, my attendant, can even be so absent-minded?! Everyone, look at this—my very own nephew doesn’t take me seriously as the emperor at all!”
Li Xuanba clutched his head, utterly confused.
Xue Daoheng chuckled: “How arrogant! Your Majesty, I’ll take this disciple! I just love people with arrogance!”
Yang Guang laughed heartily: “I knew it! Dade (Li Xuanba) perfectly suits Minister Xue’s taste! Dade, what are you waiting for? Bow and become his disciple!”
Li Xuanba: “……”
Though bewildered, if the emperor told him to take a teacher, he could only comply.
Who am I supposed to take as my teacher? Will Teacher Gao and Teacher Yuwen be angry?
Ah, Xue Daoheng… Teacher Gao and Teacher Yuwen should approve of him as a teacher.
Wait, no—why is it Xue Daoheng?!
Li Xuanba felt a splitting headache.
He was still worried whether Teacher Gao and Teacher Yuwen could escape death’s grasp, and now another teacher shows up—Xue Daoheng, who seems to love jumping right into Yang Guang’s crosshairs?
Why does the emperor always assign teachers that he wants to kill?!
Li Xuanba felt his luck in choosing a teacher was unusually bizarre.
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