Chapter Fourteen: New Year's Day

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After the sun had set, the sky was not yet fully dark. The Daming Palace, however, was already aglow, with countless lanterns hanging from every corner of the grand halls. The sheer number of candles made the Lin De Hall, the centerpiece of tonight’s festivities, brilliantly illuminated—if not for the lack of colorful variety, it might well rival the night markets of later ages.

All sizes of officials, arrayed in their court robes, were already filing into the hall in orderly procession. On regular days, officials attended court in their daily attire: round-necked, narrow-sleeved robes, practical and convenient. There were, of course, strict regulations regarding color—those of the third rank and above wore purple, fifth rank and above wore red, and so on.

But for major ceremonies, there was no distinction in color; regardless of rank, officials wore black gauze hats of various styles and bright red court robes. These robes were entirely crimson, with only the collar and cuffs in black, and each rank was distinguished by different fish-shaped pouches, swords, sashes, and other ornaments. Naturally, the swords were all wooden; no one but the Imperial Guard could brandish real weapons before the Emperor.

When Li Yuechen and her brothers followed their parents, Emperor Li Zhi and Empress Wu, into Lin De Hall, their eyes were greeted by a sea of bright red. Truth be told, for such a festive season, the sight was exceedingly jubilant.

But if anyone wore this kind of outfit to an ordinary court session, they’d best be prepared—either to offer their life in remonstration to the Emperor or to impeach someone so thoroughly that there was no return. The most dreaded, of course, was the sight of the censors in these robes; it usually meant the Emperor was about to be bombarded with criticism.

With the Emperor’s arrival, the ministers bowed in unison. Li Zhi, smiling broadly, raised his hand, “Rise, my beloved subjects! Tonight is New Year’s Eve; we shall greet the spring together!”

Then, a group of venerable and high-ranking ministers, led by Xu Jingzong and Li Ji, stepped forward to wish the Emperor and Empress Wu a happy new year.

The evening was fairly relaxed; after a few words, everyone took their seats. The royal gala of this era was rather dull. Though the court musicians were quite attractive, compared to the variety shows of later Spring Festivals, a program consisting only of song and dance was inevitably monotonous.

So Old Li, after watching for a while, found herself growing bored and a bit hungry. When Li Zhi began to eat, she hastily grabbed a steamed cake to munch on.

She was still young enough to sit beside her mother, Empress Wu. Her four brothers, however, were not so privileged; they sat below, each at his own table, their treatment not much different from the other officials.

This gala was not all song and dance, however; around eleven or twelve, the Emperor and ministers began composing verses and matching couplets.

Old Li, already weary at the mere thought of poetry, yawned, rubbed her eyes, and turned to her mother, “Mother, I’m sleepy.”

Wu Zetian stroked her cheek. “Tonight is a vigil; are you not staying up as usual?”

Li Zhi, beside them, smiled indulgently, “Children tire easily. Xiao He, take Chen’er back to sleep.”

“Yes, Your Highness!” The maid Xiao He answered, crouched down, and carried Li Yuechen away.

Old Li was indeed exhausted. By the time they returned to Chengxiang Hall, she could hardly keep her eyes open. As Xiao He helped remove her hair ornaments, she mumbled, “Remember to wake me for tomorrow’s Grand Court Assembly…”

Xiao He nodded as she undid the ornaments, “Rest assured, Your Highness.”

If she could, Li Yuechen would have liked to sleep until daylight. But she had never attended the New Year’s Day Grand Court Assembly, and was curious to see it.

…

As a child, she could return to sleep at will, but her brothers and the officials were not so fortunate. By the time the banquet ended, it was nearly the hour of the Ox. They hurried home for a brief rest—less than an hour—before rising again for another trek to the palace.

By this time, Li Yuechen was also awake. After a quick wash and having Xiao He tie her hair into a ponytail, she rushed to the Xiangluan Pavilion beside Hanyuan Hall.

She arrived just in time to see the officials entering through Danfeng Gate. Since dawn had not yet broken, many Golden Guards held torches to light their way.

Today’s audience was not just the regular ministers, but all the officials of Chang’an. Even those posted elsewhere had to come to offer New Year’s greetings to the Emperor; if they were truly unable, they had to send a representative with gifts.

Vassal states, too, sent envoys bearing tribute, making for a lively scene. From her vantage, Old Li saw the square before Hanyuan Hall packed with torches stretching all the way past Danfeng Gate, looking like a dragon of fire.

The officials, ranked by seniority, formed a line from the tail of the dragon right up to the hall’s entrance.

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The fully-armed Imperial Guards checked each individual’s portrait and documents, frisking them to ensure none carried weapons.

After watching from Xiangluan Pavilion for a while, Li Yuechen entered the main hall from the side, hiding behind a screen.

Soon, the palace doors opened and the officials filed in. Peeking out, Li Yuechen noticed a trace of exhaustion on Minister Xu Jingzong’s face and nodded sympathetically. It must be tough in this era—even aged ministers were put through such ordeals. From last night until now, they were clearly dead tired but still had to put on a healthy, radiant facade.

Once the officials took their places, Emperor Li Zhi and Empress Wu appeared. Li Zhi adjusted his ornate ceremonial robes before sitting down, but Li Yuechen suddenly noticed he had a set of health balls at his side! Behind the beaded curtain, Empress Wu hadn’t even put hers down; she continued to twirl two iron balls in her hand.

Zhang Chengxin, with a flourish of his horsetail whisk, stepped forward, drew a deep breath, and announced in a loud voice, “Court is in session!”

Under Li Yuechen’s astonished gaze, the officials first knelt in unison and cried out, “Long live the Emperor!”

Then they rose and began to dance. The movements were anything but uniform—each danced their own way, in utter chaos.

Zhang Chengxin called out, “Second bow—” and the officials knelt again, shouting, “Long live!”

Then, once more, they stood and resumed their wild, discordant dancing. Some moved quickly but with small gestures, looking as if they had Parkinson’s; others swung so broadly they bumped into their neighbors, resembling Mongolian wrestlers.

Some moved with exaggerated gestures at a brisk pace, even managing a certain rhythm.

Zhang Chengxin, keeping time, called, “Third bow—”

At his command, the ministers knelt a third time, crying, “Ten thousand years!”

After Li Zhi signaled for them to rise, Xu Jingzong—now quite out of breath from the ritual—picked up his tablet, cleared his throat, and began to recite a parallel prose so obscure that neither Li Yuechen behind the screen, nor even Li Zhi, much less Xu Jingzong himself, could hope to fully understand it.

These New Year’s orations were demanding, not something to be written lightly. They had to be replete with allusions and faultless in every respect, stuffed with ornate diction that made them convoluted and nearly incomprehensible.

Even eavesdropping behind the screen, Old Li felt her head spinning and her eyes glazing over.

At last, after offering New Year’s congratulations, Xu Jingzong turned and left; their task was complete, and they could finally return home to rest.

Had Empress Zhangsun still been alive, the whole ritual would have had to be performed again at the Empress Dowager’s residence.

Outside the palace, Xu Jingzong heaved a deep sigh, nearly faint from exhaustion. Li Ji quickly reached out to support him. “Are you well, Minister Xu?”

Xu Jingzong, pale, waved his hand. “I’ll be fine, just need a bit of sleep…”

Their work was done, but Li Zhi’s was not. As the ministers left, the next batch of lower-ranked officials entered and repeated the entire process.

By the time all the capital’s officials had paid their respects, the sun had fully risen. Then regional officials from other prefectures began their audience. When they finished, foreign envoys bearing gifts awaited their turn.

In short, Li Zhi’s ordeal would not end before noon.

Unable to contain herself, Old Li turned and asked, “Is it like this every year?”

Eunuch Fu nodded, “Yes!”

Li Yuechen shook her head, glanced at Li Zhi on the dragon throne, and murmured, “No wonder the sage is so weary!”

She had been curious about the Grand Court Assembly on New Year’s Day, but it turned out to be nothing more than one group of officials after another offering congratulations—a tedious and laborious process.

Yawning, Li Yuechen turned and left; she couldn’t watch any longer.

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Seizing the opportunity before noon, she hurried back to catch a bit more sleep.

…

After congratulating the Emperor, the officials filed out of Hanyuan Hall in waves. Officials from various prefectures greeted one another, exchanging stories of curiosities encountered in distant lands.

“Brother Sun, it’s been so long! Your term will soon be up; a promotion must be near.”

“Not at all! I hear Brother Wang is renowned for his strict governance and has earned much favor…”

Beyond the mutual flattery, many noticed the pair of iron balls in Empress Wu’s hands behind the beaded curtain. Rumors quickly spread that the two iron balls by Emperor Li Zhi’s side were for his own amusement as well.

An emperor’s hobbies could set the trend for officials, so naturally, everyone wanted to learn more. It was no secret, and soon the health balls were the talk of the bureaucracy.

Not until midday did the Grand Court Assembly finally conclude.

Xiao He woke Li Yuechen, who felt much refreshed after washing her face. In the days to come, everyone could finally enjoy some rest.

At lunch, Li Zhi and Empress Wu dined with the children, sharing hopes for the new year and urging them to be obedient and study hard.

Li Yuechen waited expectantly, but saw no sign of new year’s money being given out, and secretly wondered if something had gone awry.

Yet despite the holiday, state affairs were plenty. After lunch, the imperial couple returned to their duties. Empress Wu insisted on working quickly, as the next day, the second day of the new year, they would visit her natal family.

Her grandmother, Lady Rongguo, was still alive at ninety-one years old, and despite her age, she remained in good health. Every year, Li Yuechen and her brothers would accompany Empress Wu on this visit.

Even at other times, when Empress Wu was busy, palace maids and eunuchs would sometimes take Li Yuechen to visit her grandmother.

To be honest, Li Yuechen was not particularly keen on these visits—not because she disliked her grandmother, whom she actually adored, for the old lady was always smiling kindly and treated her especially well.

The real issue was that, on eight out of ten visits, she would run into Helan Minzhi, her supposed cousin. This young man, now twenty-five or twenty-six, was strikingly handsome—so much so that even with a man’s aesthetic, Old Li had to admit he was truly a good-looking fellow.

It made sense; she had read in many books that the Xianbei people were famous for their beauty, and Helan Minzhi’s father was Xianbei, so he must have inherited those high-cheekboned genes.

Many books claimed even Emperor Yang of Sui was extremely handsome, though the truth of that was uncertain.

What truly unnerved Old Li, however, was that this cousin was actually Lady Rongguo’s lover.

Yes—a nonagenarian and a young man in his mid-twenties, as lovers! This was beyond an old cow eating young grass; it was like devouring the seeds themselves.

When Old Li had first stumbled upon this fact, she had felt as if ten thousand wild horses were stampeding through her mind. She could not tell whether there was something wrong with the era or merely with this family.

Perhaps, back then, they had thought she was too young to remember or understand. But the memory of that scene haunted her for days, her shattered worldview not so easily rebuilt.

Of course, she never spoke of it and pretended to have forgotten. From her observations, her mother, Empress Wu, was well aware but said nothing; Old Li saw no reason to stir up trouble.

And truth be told, Lady Rongguo was genuinely kind to her granddaughter. As for their private lives, Old Li had no intention of passing judgment.

After lunch, Li Yuechen decided not to play with her four brothers but instead went to keep her two sisters, Xuan Cheng and Yi Yang, company. Though their titles as princesses had been restored, Li Zhi treated his illegitimate children as little more than afterthoughts—one shouldn’t expect much concern from him.

Given that it was New Year’s Day, Old Li didn’t want her sisters to feel lonely, so she went to play with them, much to their delight.