Chapter Thirteen: New Year's Eve

Legend has it that in ancient times, there existed a fearsome beast of enormous size. Each year, when the mountains were sealed by heavy snow in the twelfth lunar month and food became scarce, it would emerge from the deep mountains and invade villages, devouring people. Later, people discovered that this beast was afraid of loud noises. So they would burn bamboo, which exploded with sharp crackling sounds, bang gongs and beat drums, and hang red cloth strips on their doors as a warning.

The villagers would stay awake throughout the night until dawn, only venturing outside after confirming that the beast had not appeared. They would exchange auspicious greetings and pray that the beast would not return in the coming year. This beast was called “Xi”, and the day became known as “New Year’s Eve”.

Li Yuechen, wrapped in a thick sable cloak, stood at the entrance of the Chengxiang Hall, watching the palace maids toss cut bamboo into the bonfire, which erupted with bursts of popping sounds. She could not help but smile. Although this era had yet to invent firecrackers, the festive atmosphere of the New Year was no less intense than in later times—if anything, it was even stronger.

As Li Yuechen strolled leisurely down the steps, Xiao He hurried over with a bright smile. “Would Your Highness like to light some firecrackers as well?”

Old Li shook her head in refusal. It was New Year’s Eve, and while there was still daylight, she needed to pay a New Year visit to her master, Liu Rengui. Afterwards, she would have to rush back to wash and dress up, for tonight’s royal banquet was a grand affair.

She wasn’t sure how commoners felt about the New Year, but for officials, this era’s festivities were actually a troublesome ordeal. On New Year’s Eve, officials were expected to leave their families behind and attend the Emperor’s evening banquet in the palace, keeping company with the imperial family for a grand celebration. By the time the event ended, it was already past midnight. There was barely time for a short rest at home before returning to the palace at dawn for the grand court assembly on New Year’s Day. Only after this assembly could they enjoy a seven-day holiday to spend properly with their families.

When Li Yuechen left the palace by carriage and entered Chang’an, she found the streets far more crowded than usual. Nearly everyone wore radiant smiles, ready to welcome the new year. Not only the locals, but even the fair-haired, blue-eyed foreigners with prominent noses were beaming, speaking auspicious phrases in their halting, accented Tang Chinese with local friends.

Tang was a society of great openness. Here, foreign merchants wore Han hats and Han people donned foreign attire, but there was scarcely any sense of incongruity. Seeing Li Yuechen gazing thoughtfully out the carriage window, Xiao He asked, “Why such an expression, Your Highness?”

Old Li simply shook her head, silent. Xiao He could never understand what it felt like for someone from a thousand years in the future to witness such a scene. Perhaps it was awe, perhaps wonder, but above all, she found the ancient people’s simplicity endearing.

The people of this era were largely uneducated and inexperienced. For them, if every year could be thus, it would be an age of peace and prosperity. Li Yuechen rested her little head on her folded arms on the window, watching the passing throngs, a faint smile on her lips. Perhaps recalling memories from a thousand years hence, she thought: there might not be skyscrapers or roaring traffic here, but the smiles—untouched by fear for their livelihood—were the same.

If the Tang dynasty’s strength could endure forever, would not these smiles remain unchanged? As someone from the future, she knew that after Tang, many dynasties would rise and fall; a thousand years later, the world would enter the Industrial Revolution and technology would surge ahead. But she also knew that each change of dynasty brought war and death. If only an age could last forever, perhaps war and suffering could be avoided to the greatest degree.

At this thought, Li Yuechen could not help but murmur, “May my Great Tang flourish and the imperial line endure forever!”

Eunuch Fu, standing nearby, glanced at Xiao He, both surprised by the young princess’s words. No wonder she was so favored; it seemed there was good reason for it.

Arriving at Liu Rengui’s residence, Li Yuechen greeted her master with a formal salute. “Your disciple wishes Master a blessed New Year in advance!”

As a princess, she did not need to bow deeply, even to her master. Liu Rengui responded with a bow, “Thank you, Your Highness. I also wish Your Highness good fortune in the New Year!”

Perhaps long used to Li Yuechen’s ways, he soon relaxed into his usual manner. In the courtyard pavilion, he began spinning two health balls in his hands, smiling. “It’s New Year’s Eve, Your Highness. Are you not in the palace preparing for the banquet? Aren’t you afraid His Majesty will scold you?”

“With the two great lords so busy, where would they find time to scold me?” Li Yuechen replied with a mischievous grin.

Liu Rengui laughed heartily. “Your Highness is indeed clever and sharp!”

“Is that praise from my master?” By now, master and disciple were well used to bantering with one another.

He could not help it; this princess was far too adorable—endearing in appearance and words, always brightening the mood. In this age of strict ritual, she was a true eccentric.

Someone like Old Li, whose greetings to her parents were casual and who even played pranks with them, would not be encouraged by the codes of etiquette. But so be it; the Emperor and Empress adored her. Whatever might come in late Tang, for now, the emperors were all individualists—so who dared object?

Catching sight of the iron balls spinning in Liu Rengui’s hands, Li Yuechen smiled. “Does Master still enjoy that gift?”

“Indeed,” Liu Rengui nodded. “It calms the mind and soothes the spirit—a fine tool!”

It seemed most people liked to fiddle with something in their hands when bored.

Not long after, Liu Rengui’s wife and son also came to pay their respects to Li Yuechen and offer New Year greetings. After all, she was a princess; on New Year’s Eve, etiquette could not be neglected.

But Old Li was never haughty, greeting them politely and earning their goodwill.

After half an hour, Li Yuechen took her leave—it was time to go back, bathe, and dress. Whenever she had to wear so many ornaments on her head and formal robes, she felt uncomfortable. Still, it could be worse. She was grateful to be born in the Tang dynasty, where such attire was only required for grand occasions. If she had to wear it daily, she’d be truly miserable.

All thanks to Emperor Taizong. It was well-known that Li Er grew up on horseback, used to freedom and speed, and never wore ornate, cumbersome court robes. According to the official histories and Li Zhi’s recollections, Li Er usually wore short, practical riding attire—even at court. This style, inspired by foreign dress, was considered plain in this era and designed for horseback riding.

Li Er even invented his own simple cap with two “rabbit-ear” flaps at the back. Such was the character of Tang emperors—plain dress for daily work. By the time of Old Dad Li Zhi, both emperor and officials wore regular clothing at court; only for major occasions would they reluctantly don ceremonial robes. Over a decade earlier, Li Zhi had even abolished several kinds of court dress, leaving only the most formal. So Li Yuechen now wore relatively simple attire, not overly luxurious, but still uncomfortably elaborate for her. The sleeves were absurdly wide, and her head was weighted with odd ornaments—so loose they could fall off at any bow.

While she was dressing, her elder sisters, Princess Xuancheng and Princess Yiyang, came to help.

“Chen’er grows prettier by the day,” Princess Yiyang teased as she fixed an ornament in her hair.

Xuancheng poked her cheek with a finger. “Indeed. She’ll be a real beauty in the future!”

Li Yuechen sighed. “Please, sisters, don’t tease me. This attire is truly a bother!”

Seeing her cheeks puffed in exasperation, her sisters burst into laughter, chatting as they helped her prepare. By the time everything was ready, the sun was nearly set.

There was still some time before the banquet began. First, they would go to Xianju Hall to greet Li Zhi and Wu Zetian, then proceed together to the banquet at Linde Hall.

The two sisters, being daughters of concubines, did not have seats at the banquet but were nonetheless required to pay respects.

Arriving at Xianju Hall, the four imperial brothers were already waiting at the entrance. The Crown Prince, Li Hong, was technically the eldest brother, though he was actually fifth among all of Li Zhi’s sons—his eldest two brothers had died, and the third, Li Shangjin, was in Lizhou, forbidden to enter the capital without imperial permission. The fourth, Li Lian, served as governor of Shenzhou and likewise needed permission to return.

When Li Yuechen and her sisters arrived, the four princes hurriedly paid their respects. Even as daughters of concubines, the sisters were still their elders.

Now that Li Zhi had restored their titles and recognized them as princesses, etiquette demanded due respect.

The two sisters remained somewhat reserved, bowing formally in return.

Li Hong smiled, “Yuechen, you’re a bit late. Fortunately, Father hasn’t summoned us yet.”

Li Yuechen pulled a face. “This attire is just too troublesome…”

Second brother Li Xian slung an arm over third brother Li Xian’s shoulders. “If it’s such a bother, you should have started earlier. What do you think, Third Brother?”

Li Xian nodded, “True, Brother is right…”

Fourth brother Li Xulun said nothing, but gave Li Yuechen a warm smile.

Old Li had a good grasp of her brothers’ personalities. Li Hong was kind and cheerful. Li Xian was cunning, and always dragged the honest third brother into mischief so they’d share the blame if caught. Li Xulun was introverted and not good with words, but adored his little sister. Perhaps this was because Old Li often went out of her way to play with him. Li Hong, as Crown Prince, cared for him too, but was always busy.

All four brothers had heard how Li Yuechen had pleaded with Li Zhi to release her two sisters from the palace, and knew how much she cared for them. So they chatted with the sisters as well, awaiting the summons from Li Zhi and Wu Zetian.

It was not long before Zhang Chengxin emerged from the hall. “Your Highnesses, Their Majesties summon you!”

Li Hong led the way inside.

Only Li Yuechen, at the end of the line, paused beside Zhang Chengxin and said, “Happy New Year, Eunuch Zhang!”

Though such greetings were unknown in this era, Zhang Chengxin understood the blessing. Startled, he bowed deeply. “I dare not, Your Highness! How could I be worthy…”

“There’s no such thing as unworthy,” Li Yuechen replied sweetly. “It’s just a New Year’s wish, no need for such formality.”

Without further fuss, she hurried after her siblings.

Zhang Chengxin watched her go, his eyes moistening. Many people flattered him for their own ends, but he knew they looked down on him in their hearts. But this young princess was different—her eyes were bright, her smile pure. Her New Year’s greeting was not an attempt to curry favor, but a genuine acknowledgment of his personhood.

Li Yuechen truly regarded him as a normal person, coming as she did from an era of equality, with no sense of hereditary pride. To her, wishing him a happy new year was just habitual courtesy, much like a boss offering a polite greeting to a housekeeper—nothing more.

Yet to a servant in this era, such a gesture was a rare kindness. Zhang Chengxin’s eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude. After taking a deep breath and dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve, he followed them inside.

Within, Li Yuechen and the others bowed to Li Zhi and Wu Zetian, seated before them. New Year’s etiquette required kneeling—not just to the emperor, but to one’s parents.

Yet Old Li almost burst out laughing at the sight before her. Li Zhi and Wu Zetian, both dressed in splendid ceremonial robes, were each leisurely twirling a pair of health balls in their hands.

The other children knelt solemnly, but Li Yuechen was still smiling, her movements a little crooked.

Wu Zetian looked slightly displeased, but Li Zhi’s face was filled with doting amusement, unconcerned.

After the greetings, Li Zhi, evidently in high spirits, put on his paternal air and spoke of their year’s achievements and hopes for the coming one. To Xuancheng and Yiyang, whom he had not seen for a long time, whether out of guilt or for Li Yuechen’s sake, he offered a few words of encouragement. Wu Zetian, though somewhat distant towards them, seemed neither pleased nor angry.