LFHYB -Chapter 79 Paper Money Rain Under the Scorching Sun

The death of the Crown Prince was a major event, and the news reached Yang Guang the next day.

Although Yang Guang was deeply saddened, as emperor, completing the political objectives of this western tour was even more important. So after observing three days of mourning for his most beloved son, Yang Guang continued to host feasts with the kings and envoys of various countries.

Yang Guang sat with the highest-ranking kings—the King of Gaochang and the envoy from Yiwu Tutun—on the Guanfengxing Hall, while other envoys took seats below in attendance.

Before the hall were grand ceremonial displays and parades; lively performances of “fish and dragon” acrobatics played in a continuous loop to the accompaniment of the nine-part music ensemble, and both hosts and guests were thoroughly entertained.

In high spirits, Yang Guang bestowed countless treasures upon the foreign envoys and also issued a general amnesty across the realm.

He boasted to his ministers nearby: since ancient times, emperors have conducted tours of inspection. The emperors of Jiangdong mostly stayed within the inner palace, unaware of the hardships of the common people, and thus deserved the downfall of their states. But he was different.

The ministers praised the emperor for his accomplishments in traveling south, north, and west.

Li Yuan was among the ministers.

He outwardly agreed with their words, but inwardly he was unconvinced.

In history, there were indeed enlightened rulers who enjoyed tours of inspection—but he had never seen one who traveled with concubines, palace ladies, and court musicians while on tour.

Yang Zhao was familiar with his second and third sons, and Li Yuan had a close relationship with the Crown Prince.

Li Yuan admired Crown Prince Yang Zhao and often told friends that if Yang Zhao succeeded to the throne, he would surely be a benevolent and wise ruler. It was fortunate for his own children to serve a prince like him.

Yang Zhao’s death dealt Li Yuan a heavy blow.

He had long harbored a desire to aid the world and bring peace to the people, which was why he named his second son “Shimin.”

Before this, Li Yuan only wanted to become a senior minister like Gao Jiong or Yang Su. A small ambition of his was to have a better ending than Gao Jiong or Yang Su—not only to earn the emperor’s trust in his lifetime but also to see his own sons rise as high-ranking ministers. His idea of “helping the world and comforting the people” was merely in his capacity as a minister assisting the ruler.

But accompanying Yang Guang on the imperial tours and campaigns, the radiant image of the “emperor” slowly began to crumble before Li Yuan.

The death of Yang Zhao struck a severe blow to Li Yuan’s ideals.

Once the material needs of civil and military officials are met, what they seek next is “fame.”

Could such an emperor truly achieve Li Yuan’s wish to help the world and bring peace to the people?

Li Yuan had long felt dissatisfaction and vigilance toward Yang Guang, but the Crown Prince’s death was the first time he felt disdain for him.

Such an emperor—so incompetent and arrogant yet unaware of his folly—why should he reign above me?

If it were me… if it were me…

He shuddered at the thought, alarmed that such rebellious ideas had arisen in his mind, breaking out in a cold sweat.

Li Yuan hurriedly suppressed these insubordinate thoughts, but once planted, the idea took root in his heart, waiting for a storm to make it sprout.

Upon learning of the Crown Prince’s death, Li Shimin and Li Xuanba immediately requested permission from Yang Guang to return and pay their respects.

Yang Guang had already been approached by Yang Zhao, who entrusted many people with his “last wishes,” and only Li Shimin and Li Xuanba had naively agreed to comply.

After his son’s death, Yang Guang only pretended to mourn for three days before resuming lavish feasts, partly for this reason.

Yang Guang was furious.

What he hated most was when others questioned his ability, doubted the stability of his rule, or questioned the strength of his Great Sui Dynasty.

Yang Zhao’s actions trampled all of Yang Guang’s taboos—Yang Zhao was still alive, yet he entrusted guardianship to others, dared to speak of the succession, and even voiced fear of fratricidal conflict. How could Yang Guang not be angry?

If Yang Zhao were still alive, Yang Guang might have seriously considered deposing him.

Yet precisely because Yang Zhao, who had always been obedient, spoke so many forbidden words before his death, Yang Guang could not forget them, no matter how immersed he was in the banquet.

Yang Guang also disliked those entrusted by Yang Zhao—but it was not Li Shimin or Li Xuanba he disliked, but the ministers who did not dare to agree.

Although angered by Yang Zhao’s “mad” words, the emperor thought: my crown prince begged you, yet you did not dare comply? I will never allow future generations to repeat fratricide. My control over the court surpasses that of my father. Yang Zhao’s wish to entrust guardianship could be easily fulfilled—why would you not dare to agree?

Li Shimin and Li Xuanba refused to involve themselves in the succession struggle but promised that, should anything happen, they would ensure Yang Zhao’s son lived a prosperous and long life.

After Yang Zhao’s death, most who sought the title of “Crown Prince” would drift away, gravitating toward Prince Qi, Yang Xing.

While still hosting foreign envoys, only Li Shimin and Li Xuanba dared to request permission to return and pay respects to the Crown Prince, showing no fear of angering him. Their loyalty moved Yang Guang deeply.

Yang Guang asked, “The others feared that requesting to pay respects would disturb my banquet and displease me. Why do you not fear this?”

Li Shimin asked in puzzlement, “Your Majesty is very close to the Crown Prince. How could our request to pay respects displease you?”

Li Xuanba said, “As parents, who does not love their child? Your Majesty is first emperor, then father. Even if the Crown Prince passes, you can only mourn three days while continuing your duties. We are still young; court affairs do not concern us. As Your Majesty’s juniors and cousins of the Crown Prince, it is our duty to remain by the Crown Prince’s side and guard his spirit.”

Yang Guang felt a warmth in his heart.

Indeed, no matter his anger, Yang Zhao was still his most beloved son, the legitimate heir in whom he had invested countless hopes. How could he not grieve his death?

Because the ministers assumed that, since Yang Guang did not like the Crown Prince’s last “mad” words, he must also be an unkind father, they dared not attend the funeral. Hmph!

“Go. Tell Shiming that once I am done here, I will come to see him. Let him not grieve,” Yang Guang said gently and kindly. “Shiming’s brothers and children are not here. You, as his cousins, are his closest peers. Guard his spirit as if you were his own brothers, and wait for me to return.”

Coincidentally, Yang Zhao’s courtesy name was Shiming. If he had ascended the throne, Li Shimin would have needed to avoid the name.

Yang Guang bestowed nine-ringed golden belts upon Li Shimin and Li Xuanba, and commanded them to return to Zhangye to oversee the Crown Prince’s funeral.

Li Shimin and Li Xuanba knelt to show their gratitude and carried the nine-ringed gold belt back to Zhangye.

The “Nine-Ringed Gold Belt” was a privilege first created by Emperor Wen of Sui for “high-ranking ministers,” similar to later generations granting ceremonial garments.

Even Yang Guang’s close attendants did not all have this privilege. For two children to receive such an honor, everyone congratulated Li Yuan on raising such fine sons.

Li Yuan did not take pride in it this time. He said calmly, “The emperor appreciates the bond between Erlang and Sanlang with the Crown Prince as cousins. This is merely their duty; what is there to congratulate?”

Apart from the moments of official banquets, Li Yuan abstained from meat and wine, wearing mourning clothes to grieve the Crown Prince.

Yang Guang, moved by the fact that Li Yuan had raised such children as Li Shimin and Li Xuanba, felt that Li Yuan was a truly virtuous man. His trust in Li Yuan deepened.

When Li Shimin and Li Xuanba returned to Zhangye, the city was in chaos over the Crown Prince’s death.

Adding to the local officials’ stress, Princess Leping, Yang Lihua, who accompanied the emperor on his western tour, was seriously ill.

Yang Lihua had a special status. She was the empress of Emperor Xuan of Northern Zhou. Emperor Wen of Sui felt guilty toward her, so he treated her extremely well.

Yang Lihua was politically astute and had long ingratiated herself with Yang Guang, even presenting him with beauties multiple times. Yang Guang was also very close to her.

With Yang Guang and the high ministers away from Zhangye, the remaining officials had no idea how to manage the situation.

Li Xuanba had Li Shimin handle the Crown Prince Yang Zhao’s funeral while he personally took care of Yang Lihua.

When he first learned of the Crown Prince’s illness, Li Xuanba secretly instructed Sun Simiao to avoid being summoned under the guise of collecting herbs, and spread rumors in Zhangye that Sun Simiao was merely “a supposedly divine doctor from the common people, not as skilled as imperial physicians—you see, Li Sanlang is still weak under his care.”

Sun Simiao was taken away by Ye Hu and hid on the grasslands, successfully avoiding Yang Guang’s summons.

Given Yang Guang’s unpredictable temper, any summoned doctor might end up accompanying the Crown Prince to the grave, so Li Xuanba dared not take that risk.

After Yang Guang left Zhangye, Sun Simiao secretly returned. Li Xuanba had him prepare a medicine to ease the terminal suffering, submitting it for imperial physician verification as “my regular medicine,” and administered it to Yang Lihua for several days.

Yang Lihua’s high fever persisted, but her spirits improved somewhat—a fleeting recovery, enough to leave final words.

Her final words were exactly what Li Xuanba had seen in the historical records: “My only daughter, I do not grieve for death, deeply cherish her. Pray return Tangmu to Li Min.”

Yang Lihua’s life had been both glorious and tragic, and all she worried about was her only daughter. Li Xuanba, knowing that Yang Guang would approve, reassured her, “Princess, rest assured. The emperor is close to you and will take care of your family.”

Yang Lihua closed her eyes in comfort. “The emperor often says Li Sanlang understands the sage’s intent. If Li Sanlang says this, I am at peace.”

Her consciousness grew dim, her lips continually whispering “Jingxun.”

Li Xuanba knew whose name she was calling.

Li Jingxun, Yang Lihua’s most beloved granddaughter, had passed away last year in Fenyang Palace. Later archaeological findings of her tomb made her somewhat famous among history enthusiasts.

Although Li Xuanba often entered the palace, he never had the chance to meet Yang Lihua’s beloved granddaughter, nor could he change her fate.

He knew the tragic and unjust fates of many, but always as an observer.

For example, he knew that Yang Lihua’s most cherished only daughter, Yuwen Eying, along with her husband Li Min, would be executed by Yang Guang, and all her grandchildren—sons and daughters—would be killed as well.

Li Xuanba comforted her: “Princess, rest in peace. The emperor will surely take good care of your family.”

Yang Lihua stopped murmuring, her expression calm.

The imperial physicians checked her pulse and breath, shaking their heads.

Li Xuanba respectfully saw Princess Leping off in death, sending a messenger to inform Yang Guang of her passing and presenting her personally recorded final words, while also handling the funeral arrangements.

The small city of Zhangye wore mourning for the funerals of these two nobles.

Official and aristocratic households had to dress their women in luxurious clothing and jewels, ride in ornate carriages to honor the emperor, while also mourning at home for the Crown Prince and Princess Leping.

They had to cry and smile simultaneously, living in daily fear.

Yang Guang’s edict arrived in Zhangye. As expected, he approved Princess Leping’s request, granting her fief to Li Min.

He instructed Li Xuanba to place her memorial hall next to the Crown Prince’s, easing the children’s workload.

Li Shimin and Li Xuanba were able to guard the spirits together, taking care of each other.

Li Xuanba threw sheets of ceremonial paper money into the fire.

—No child is unloved by their parents.

He also replenished the incense and candles for Yang Lihua.

—The emperor will take good care of your family.

Rest in peace, rest with the lies.

…

In the fifth year of the Daye era, Sui pacified Tuyuhun; the Western Regions’ states came to pay tribute, offering several thousand li of land. New prefectures were established—Xihai, Heyuan, Shanshan, Qiemo—and criminals from across the empire were sent to garrison them.

Zizhi Tongjian records: “At that time, the empire had 190 prefectures, 1,255 counties, and over 8.9 million households. East to west spanned 9,300 li, north to south 14,815 li. The Sui reached the height of its prosperity.”

The Sui dynasty had reached its most powerful moment.

…

Yang Guang returned.

He brought the coffins of Crown Prince Yang Zhao and Princess Leping, taking a shortcut back to Western Capital Daxing for burial.

Li Yuan followed Yang Guang. Li Shimin and Li Xuanba remained with Pei Shiju to wrap up affairs in the Western Regions, planning to return together when Pei Shiju went back to the court.

After Yang Guang left, civil and military officials finally donned mourning clothes to observe a belated period of filial mourning for the Crown Prince.

Since the Six Dynasties, ritual paper money had been produced in a rush and scattered along the road.

Li Shimin and Li Xuanba stood at Zhangye’s city gate, watching the emperor’s carriage depart.

At Sui’s height of power, paper money fluttered along the way.

The noon sun dyed the clouds at the horizon like a sea of fire, as if to visually portray the empire’s brilliance and its fleeting, consuming intensity.

And under this brilliant sunlight, paper money fluttered down like rain.