Chapter Twelve: Family Games

Would Li Zhi and Wu Zetian enjoy playing with these health balls? Li Yuechen couldn't say for sure. But given the limited means of entertainment in this era, if there was something to turn in one's hands, it was unlikely most people would refuse it. Especially for someone like Li Zhi, who, in order to recuperate, barely glanced at memorials each day and was bored out of his mind—having something to play with would undoubtedly be welcome.

The next morning, Old Li went to Liu Rengui’s house, both to have him check whether her martial routines were up to standard and to present him with the last set of health balls as a disciple’s token of gratitude.

Days passed swiftly; before she knew it, it was already the end of December, with only about ten days left until the New Year. Yet at this point, Old Li had little sense of time. After all, the New Year in this era was nothing like in later generations, and she had little interest in it.

Her days were fulfilling: martial practice, reading, calligraphy, copying passages from the Thousand Character Classic or the Rapid Learning Primer, recalling the handful of Tang and Song poems she still remembered from her past life, and, as the afternoon sun slanted westward, playing with her two older sisters. Life was rich and full.

As for those two health balls, just as she'd expected, every day when she paid her respects to Li Zhi and his wife, she saw them turning the shining iron spheres in their hands. Clearly, the gift was well received.

It was once again the day for Liu Shenwei to conduct his routine check-up on Li Zhi. After a few acupuncture needles in the Hall of Prolonged Harmony, he declared everything normal and prepared to take his leave.

“Your Majesty, if there are no further matters, your humble servant shall withdraw…”

“Wait, Liu Qing!” Li Zhi called him back, raising his left hand. “Are you familiar with this object?”

Liu Shenwei was a little puzzled. Upon entering, he’d noticed both the emperor and empress each holding a pair of gleaming iron balls, gently rotating them. He’d assumed it was the latest courtly fad, but now he was being asked if he knew them.

Shaking his head with some confusion, he answered, “I am not familiar with them.”

Li Zhi gestured for him to sit and explained, “This was crafted by Chen’er. She said she once consulted you, claiming that massaging both hands could relieve fatigue...”

As Li Zhi explained, Liu Shenwei stroked his beard, recalling, “Indeed, some time ago, Her Highness visited the Imperial Medical Bureau...” He then recounted the incident to Li Zhi.

Li Zhi nodded. “Chen’er means well. Since she cannot always remain by my side, she made this to replace her massages. I’d thought it a jest, but in recent days, I’ve often played with them and felt much refreshed. Why don’t you have a pair made for yourself and try them out? If they truly work, Chen’er will have performed a great service!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

Liu Shenwei agreed and took his leave. Once outside the hall, he found the matter quite amusing. How old was the princess, really? To casually make such a thing and have it actually work for massage? He was skeptical, but with an imperial command, he might as well try. The Directorate of Artisans wasn’t far from the Imperial Music Bureau, so upon returning, he went straight to the artisans, asking an acquaintance to forge a pair of iron balls. The craftsman replied it was simple—the princess herself had just ordered three sets a few days ago, so one more was easy.

That evening, Li Zhi summoned Old Li. After a most informal bow, Li Yuechen climbed onto Wu Zetian’s lap to play with her. Wu Zetian, having seen plenty of ministers by day and reviewed dossiers for hours by night, was also somewhat weary, so she embraced her daughter and began to frolic. Li Zhi watched the mother and daughter roughhousing, stroking his beard. “Chen’er, this gift is excellent. Your mother and I play with it every day; you’ve done well. What reward would you like?”

“Your Majesty…” Wu Zetian reflexively tried to refuse; she felt that doting on the child so much was a bit much.

Li Zhi waved her off with a laugh. “No matter! Chen’er, what do you wish for? Speak freely!”

She hadn’t expected Li Zhi to be in such a good mood as to offer a reward, but truthfully, Old Li didn’t really want anything at the moment.

Propping her chin with both hands, Li Yuechen’s eyes sparkled. “Any reward at all?”

Li Zhi put on a stern face. “Any reward!”

Beaming like a flower, she said, “Then I’d like for the two of you to dress in bear fur coats with me and have a snowball fight.”

Li Zhi and Wu Zetian exchanged glances.

“I know about the little bear cub coats,” Li Zhi said, “but what is a snowball fight?”

Old Li was speechless—how could he not know about snowball fights? What a deprived childhood. Nevertheless, she explained.

Once he understood, Li Zhi kept his word, waving his hand grandly. “Zhang Chengxin! Order the Wardrobe Bureau to tailor two more bear cub coats matching the Empress’s and mine, to be ready before noon tomorrow!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

Old Li nodded to herself—such is the emperor’s power: a word from him and his people must work through the night.

In any case, so long as there was a chance to draw closer to them and reinforce her presence, Old Li would never let it slip by. At least, before Wu Zetian took power, no one would suspect a woman could ascend the throne; no matter how favored she was, she needn’t worry about becoming a pawn in political struggles. For now, her only task was to keep a low profile and go unnoticed. As for the future, when her mother did take power—well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

The next morning, Old Li rose as usual to practice yoga, warm up, and go through her martial routines. At noon, Li Zhi summoned her to dine in the Hall of Prolonged Harmony.

What took some getting used to was that, in this era, not only at banquets but even at home, everyone dined separately, each at a low table. Only because she was still a child could she eat beside Wu Zetian. Though hygienic, it felt lacking in familial warmth. Still, she thought, perhaps she could mention this to Li Zhi later—it would be another chance to leave an impression.

After lunch and a short rest, Li Zhi, true to his word, brought two large bear onesies and changed together with Wu Zetian. The material looked unmistakably like real bear fur! Li Zhi, at around six feet tall, looked imposing and robust in his bear suit. Wu Zetian, about five foot six, matched him well in both stature and bearing.

Dressed as two large and one small bear, the three headed to the open ground behind the Linde Hall, ready for a snowball fight. Honestly, in later times, such outfits might be considered social suicide, but with the emperor and empress leading the way, it became something else entirely. At the very least, Zhang Chengxin and the surrounding eunuchs and maids struggled to keep straight faces, their cheeks flushed from suppressed laughter.

Li Yuechen, being a child, could play as wildly as she pleased. But for the emperor and empress to join in the fun—this was surely unprecedented in the history of the Tang.

“I’ll team up with Mother; Father, you’re on your own,” Old Li announced.

“Oh? And why is that?” Li Zhi asked with a smile.

Old Li grinned. “I’ve heard Mother say that Father was skilled in horsemanship and archery as a boy, so this division is only fair.”

She’d only learned this after arriving in this world—martial prowess was highly valued in the Tang. Nobles and scholars alike were expected to be at least proficient in riding and archery. Taizong, Li Er, had led armies for years, and under his influence, Li Zhi’s generation of princes and princesses were all trained in these arts. Even Li Yuechen’s older brothers, though not experts, had undergone similar training.

Li Zhi accepted the arrangement, signaling the eunuchs and maids to start making snowballs. The bear suits were designed with a special touch: cartoonish eyes painted on oval wooden patches, and a short, fluffy tail at the back, adding to their cuteness.

With so many hands at work, a mountain of snowballs was ready in no time. At Li Zhi’s command, the sides took their positions and began tossing snowballs.

Li Yuechen and Wu Zetian worked together, attacking Li Zhi from both sides. Though Li Zhi, older now and not as fit as before, was still a tall and robust man, stronger than a child and a middle-aged woman. Soon, Old Li and Wu Zetian were covered in powdery snow, struck repeatedly. Fortunately, the snowballs were loosely packed and didn’t hurt.

Li Zhi, on the other hand, managed to dodge most of the attacks with agile movements, rarely getting hit. Seeing this, Old Li realized that staying on opposite sides wasn’t working—she couldn’t aim well. So, grabbing a few snowballs, she boldly flanked Li Zhi and launched a close-range attack.

Snowballs rained down; Li Zhi laughed and charged over. “Ah, so you have tactics like these!”

He shouted mock-battle cries as he hurled snowballs back. Li Yuechen ran away, giggling and tossing snowballs over her shoulder. Li Zhi deliberately ran slowly, pretending he couldn’t catch her, and threw most of his snowballs to the sides to avoid hitting his daughter directly.

“Mother, help! Save me!” Old Li called as she ran. Playful, Wu Zetian kept pelting Li Zhi from the flank, soon covering him in snowy splatters.

The three of them frolicked joyfully in the palace grounds, while the onlooking maids and eunuchs could only stare in astonishment. For a daughter and wife to pelt the emperor with snowballs—such a thing had never been heard of.

Zhang Chengxin and Eunuch Fu, acting as referees, stood by smiling, occasionally shouting encouragement.

“Grandfather, have you ever seen such a rare sight?” Eunuch Fu whispered.

Zhang Chengxin wore a knowing look. “Hmph, this shows how favored the princess is. When she grows up, your days will only get better!”

“Thank you for your support, Grandfather!” Eunuch Fu replied, fawning.

“It’s just a pity—if she were a boy…” Zhang Chengxin glanced around and left the thought unfinished. Eunuch Fu, however, nodded in agreement, thinking to himself that, were she male, there was every chance the heir apparent might be replaced.

They played for nearly an hour before Li Zhi, exhausted, sat down gracelessly in the snow, gasping for breath. Raising his bear-paw-clad hand, he declared, “Enough, enough… I yield…”

Li Yuechen, clutching a large snowball, ran over and tossed it into his lap, then leapt onto his back. “Hahaha, Father lost!”

Li Zhi picked her up and held her in his arms. “I lost, Chen’er wins!”

Wu Zetian jogged over. “Your Majesty, get up quickly, or you’ll catch cold sitting in the snow…”

“No harm, no harm…” he replied, though he still set Li Yuechen down and took his wife’s hand to stand. Flushed from exertion, steam visibly rising from his body as he removed his hat, he remarked, “It’s been so long since I relaxed like this… Chen’er, are you happy?”

“Very happy!” Li Yuechen nodded. “Father must be tired—let’s go back and have some hot tea and rest.”

“Alright! I’ll obey Chen’er!”

Clearly fatigued, Li Zhi took her small hand and led the way back.

Behind them, Wu Zetian quietly called Zhang Chengxin over and ordered, “Spread the word—today’s events are not to be spoken of! If the Censorate hears, it would only sour His Majesty’s mood!”

“Understood!” Zhang Chengxin replied, immediately instructing Eunuch Fu to summon all the present servants.

“Listen well! What happened today stays with you. If I hear anyone gossiping, don’t blame me for being harsh!”

He knew well that, ever since the fall of Zhangsun Wuji, the Censorate had been eager to meddle again. To those present, today was just playful fun with family, but to those old watchdogs, the emperor neglecting state affairs to play in the snow would be seen as a dereliction of duty—sure to draw fierce criticism. To keep Li Zhi from being angered into illness, secrecy was essential.

Today, Old Li was genuinely happy. It was obvious Li Zhi hadn’t relaxed like this in ages, and even Wu Zetian seemed in better spirits, reviewing memorials faster than usual when they returned. Old Li thought she should make a habit of coaxing the couple to play together, deepening bonds and keeping them healthy. If this could help them live longer, perhaps it would count as a merit.

Perhaps because Li Zhi was in better spirits, the next morning in court he approved the crown prince Li Hong’s recent memorial regarding amnesty for deserters.

Tang law decreed that soldiers who deserted or failed to report on time faced execution, and their wives were seized for government service. Recently, the crown prince had argued that many absentees had valid reasons—illness, injury, abduction, and so forth. It was truly wretched for their families to be implicated, so he petitioned for amnesty from collective punishment for deserters’ wives.

And so, in the final days of the first year of the Zongzhang era, Li Zhi agreed to the crown prince’s request!