Chapter Seventeen: Gaining Favor

When the last line was spoken, both Li Zhi and Wu Zetian turned their heads in mild surprise. Behind them, their eldest son, Li Hong, also looked up, a hint of astonishment in his eyes.

Strictly speaking, that poem was rather mediocre—one could hardly call it a poem at all. Yet, considering it had been composed by a child of merely four or five, it was already quite impressive.

Wu Zetian, the mother, arched her brows and then suddenly smiled radiantly. “Not bad!” she praised.

Li Zhi, the father, nodded in approval. “Chener is truly talented! If you were to attend the Imperial Academy…”

“I won’t go!” Li Yuechen interrupted before he could finish.

What a joke—going to the Imperial Academy to study those abstruse and incomprehensible classics day after day? As the daughter of a princess, she wouldn’t need to sit for the imperial exams anyway; rather than wasting time on those texts, she might as well open her own household early and enjoy a leisurely life.

“Oh? And why is that?” Li Zhi seemed curious.

“I only wish to focus on martial arts, so that I may protect Father and Mother in the future,” Li Yuechen replied.

The couple exchanged a glance, but didn’t press the issue, strolling on with her.

They soon reached a corner facing Yanshou Ward; ahead lay the Han Guang Gate of the imperial city. From here, the whole of Chang’an was almost visible at a glance.

Beneath the deep indigo night, most of Chang’an was ablaze with lanterns and light.

Laughter echoed in the streets, the wind drifted gently by, and the banners outside taverns danced rhythmically. Snowflakes drifted slowly down, laying a moist veil over city walls, rooftops, and bridge railings.

Groups of pedestrians, three or five together, bustled along the streets, laughing and shouting; neither the snow nor the chill could stop them from enjoying the one night of the year without a curfew.

Stalls lined both sides of the ward’s main street, thronged with people. On the Qingming Canal below, countless floating lanterns drifted like scattered stars, enchanting the scene.

Taking all this in, Li Yuechen couldn’t help but sigh inwardly—no wonder so many praised the Tang dynasty. If only such scenes could last forever.

It was still early. Glancing around, Li Yuechen saw that the city wall was quite broad, more than enough for their activities.

She tugged gently at Li Zhi’s beard. “Father, shall we play ‘Eagle Catches Chicks’?”

Li Zhi looked puzzled. “What is that?”

Li Yuechen explained, demonstrating with her mother, Wu Zetian.

Usually, such a suggestion would be dismissed, but since it was his favorite little daughter who asked, Li Zhi agreed at once.

...

For Li Zhi, his wife, and all the brothers and sisters, this Lantern Festival was truly unforgettable.

That night, atop the imperial city walls, the Li family laughed and played “Eagle Catches Chicks.” Li Zhi was the eagle, Wu Zetian the mother hen, followed by the four sons, two daughters born of concubines, and Li Yuechen at the end.

At first, everyone felt awkward, but people are adaptable—once they relaxed, they soon immersed themselves in the game.

Much like one’s first time at a nightclub, where the sight of others dancing is embarrassing, but after a few drinks and a little cajoling, one is soon lost in the moment.

So it was with Li Zhi’s family. Initially shy, they quickly warmed up, especially with Li Yuechen popping her head out from the end of the line, cheering him on to catch them.

As the game took off and emotions rose, they all became absorbed. Li Zhi launched mock attacks from both sides, baring his teeth and claws, while Wu Zetian spread her arms, shifting side to side, defending the chicks.

Wu Zetian, in fact, was quite athletic; she claimed to have captained the palace women’s polo team in her youth.

Li Zhi’s embarrassment faded as the game went on, and he threw himself into the role. Feigning a left attack, he darted right while Wu Zetian was distracted and quickly tagged Li Yuechen at the back.

“Ha ha ha… Caught one!” Li Zhi laughed, scooping her up and spinning her around.

Then he put her aside and went after the others.

Wu Zetian, of course, didn’t give her all—Li Zhi’s eyes were weak, so she let him win now and then, sparing his pride.

Soon, Li Zhi caught the two daughters of concubines as well, and this time, contrary to his usual reserve, he patted their heads and said, “In the blink of an eye, you’ve both grown so much…”

Elsewhere, with fewer chicks behind the mother hen, the game would get harder. But on the narrow city wall, the reduced numbers made things easier for Li Zhi.

Fourth son Li Xulun was caught first; the third and second sons, being agile, evaded capture several times. But the eldest, Li Hong, always frail, soon tired and was eventually caught.

Once all the chicks had been captured, Li Zhi threw his arms wide and caught the mother hen in a hearty embrace, spinning her twice on the spot.

Wu Zetian hadn’t expected this; even after two spins, she stood dazed. Li Zhi pinched her cheek and laughed, triumphant as a mischievous child.

Watching this, Li Yuechen suddenly thought of a lyric: I am still that same youth, unchanged in the least!

She recalled seeing endless theories online, interpreting Wu Zetian from every angle. But Li Yuechen believed that historical records couldn’t do her justice—in a nation where men had ruled for millennia, an outlier like Wu Zetian could hardly be judged objectively.

Touching her own cheeks, pinched twice, Wu Zetian looked at Li Zhi and said softly, “I am getting old.”

Li Zhi paused, then smiled. “Am I not growing old too?”

He glanced at the children, who had awkwardly turned away from the recent scene, and beckoned to Li Yuechen, who alone was still smiling. “Our children have all grown up.”

Li Yuechen grinned, coming forward. “But Father, your heart remains young!”

“Ever the clever one,” Li Zhi said, ruffling her hair.

As midnight neared, more and more Kongming lanterns rose from the city and floated skyward, overlapping like living stars. Beneath the flickering flames, the lights of Chang’an shone even brighter.

In the taverns and along the streets, men and women gazed skyward, watching their hopes and dreams drift into the heavens.

In a secluded alley, a couple, seeing no one was watching, embraced and kissed with abandon.

Li Yuechen, watching from the city wall, smiled—no matter the era, there are always those who dare defy the rules.

Seeing his daughter smile, Li Zhi knelt to lift her up. “What’s made you laugh, Chener?”

Li Yuechen wrapped her small arms around his neck. “Because Father and Mother have made me so happy!”

Wu Zetian gave her a sidelong glance. “Such flattery at your age—who taught you that?”

Li Zhi waved it off. “It’s just her filial nature; how can you call it flattery?”

Wu Zetian turned away. “Your Majesty, don’t spoil her so!”

That night, the brothers and sisters saw a side of Li Zhi they’d never seen before. And they all knew it was the youngest sister who had made it possible.

They’d always cherished her, but now they truly understood her influence.

...

After the Lantern Festival, Li Zhi was clearly in high spirits, smiling every day.

Even while assisting Wu Zetian with state documents, he would hum a tune, and when bored, tease her—tugging her hair or poking her waist, making her roll her eyes in exasperation. Yet, the pace of their work quickened.

Every morning, Li Yuechen still practiced yoga, read, or did calligraphy; in the afternoons, she trained her body or visited her master Liu Rengui for guidance, sometimes spending time with Lady Rongguo.

At dusk, she would play with her sisters, chat in the evenings, and go to bed early.

One day, feeling idle, she went to visit her second brother, Li Xian, only to find him and the third brother cockfighting again.

But as it was not mating season, the two roosters were clearly uninterested, pecking at each other half-heartedly.

Li Xian, bored, ran over when he saw her. “Sister, want to join us?”

Li Yuechen shook her head, squatted by the roosters for a while, and wiped her mouth. “I wonder how they taste.”

Li Xian was stunned; he’d thought she was interested in cockfighting, not eating them.

...

Days passed, and in a blink, it was March.

One evening, as usual, Li Yuechen went to visit her parents. Li Zhi asked, “Chener, in two days it will be the Waking of Insects festival. The Spring Plowing Ceremony is tomorrow. Will you and Hong accompany me?”

“Yes!” Li Yuechen promptly agreed.

The Spring Plowing was a statutory festival in the Tang dynasty, though dates varied by region due to climate. Each year, the emperor would visit a village outside the city, read a ceremonial text, and plow a furrow himself to set an example.

It was a major event; not only the emperor, but all officials, civil and military, would attend, making for a grand occasion.

...

The next morning, Li Yuechen rose early, had a quick breakfast, and went out to wait.

The emperor’s departure was a grand affair—over a hundred in the honor guard, and with accompanying troops and officials, the procession numbered over a thousand.

Each year the Spring Plowing was held at a different field outside Chang’an.

Traveling in the imperial carriage, they arrived at the site to find a temporary platform, over ten meters long and wide, surrounded by the imperial guards. Officials lined either side, and an old ox, its head adorned with a red flower, stood ready.

Li Yuechen, with Crown Prince Li Hong, stood at the front of the officials, watching as Li Zhi and Wu Zetian mounted the platform to read the ceremonial text—full of hopes for a bountiful harvest. Afterwards, drums rolled, the ox was harnessed, and Li Zhi and Wu Zetian took turns guiding it through the earth.

But Li Yuechen, standing nearby, raised a questioning brow.

What was this? Hadn’t the Tang dynasty already invented the curved-beam plow? Why were they still using a straight plow?

The curved-beam plow was used for over a thousand years; she’d not only heard of it, but had operated one herself. An old farmer had once remarked that it dated back to the Tang, marveling at its longevity.

But on reflection, the Tang dynasty lasted centuries; perhaps the invention came later?

Li Yuechen smiled—another chance to earn some goodwill!

After the ceremony, back at the palace, she immediately fetched paper and brush to draft a design. She’d used the tool herself, so it came easily; after a few sketches, it was done.

By sunset, the design was ready, but she wasn’t in a rush. The next morning, she took Chamberlain Fu to the Workshop Bureau.

After greeting the overseer, she summoned a carpenter and asked him to build the curved-beam plow from her drawings.

Its structure was simple—child’s play for these craftsmen. Then she had a blacksmith forge the plowshare, instructing them to notify her once it was done.

Though unsure what the little princess was up to, the overseer immediately set the work in motion.

By noon the next day, Chamberlain Fu arrived with the finished plow. “Your Highness, the Workshop Bureau has delivered the product. Please inspect it.”

Li Yuechen quickly stuffed the last of her flatbread into her mouth, dusted her hands, and went to see.

She grasped the plow in both hands, lifting and examining it from all angles.

Chamberlain Fu’s eyes nearly popped—he’d carried it himself and knew it was far from light for a child. Yet this four- or five-year-old princess hefted it effortlessly, seemingly without strain.

Li Yuechen paid this no mind, habitually ignoring the oddity of a child her age lifting such a weight with ease.

It was a peculiar sight: this tiny girl holding an object larger than herself, scrutinizing every detail against her memory.

Satisfied it matched the design used a millennium later, she set it down. “Let’s go to the Hall of Enlightened Instruction!”