Chapter Twenty: A Fulfilling Life

After returning to the Hall of Fragrant Harmony, Li Yuechen sent Xiaohé to prepare brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, while she settled onto the couch to ponder.

What should one write first when composing a novel?

As for The Investiture of the Gods, that’s out of the question. It was a sensitive time in court, with many civil and military officials already disgruntled by the Empress’s regency. If she were to suddenly pen The Investiture of the Gods, regardless of her intent, others would surely see it as insinuating that Empress Wu Zetian was akin to Su Daji. Li Yuechen could already picture the flushed faces of the court officials in uproar if such a book were to appear.

For her own safety, she abandoned the idea. If she truly wished to write it, she would have to make extensive changes. For instance, she could alter the story so that King Zhou visited the Temple of Lady Nuwa, not to offend but to express empathy for the hardships faced by women due to their low status. Upon Nuwa’s return, she, being a woman herself, understood deeply and, after divining, saw that King Zhou’s empire had but twenty-eight years left. She then dispatched three fox spirits to aid him for those remaining years, ensuring he would die peacefully. Still, King Zhou remained unyielding, and even with the fox spirits’ help, met a tragic end. Thus, King Zhou would become a tragic hero, and Su Daji a positive figure.

This approach might suffice; after all, novels are not official histories—artistic liberties can be taken. For example, the Incident at Xuanwu Gate could be recast in a novel as the Crown Prince Li Jiancheng being betrayed and besieged by his own men, with Emperor Taizong heroically stepping in to shield his brother, only to arrive just a step too late.

Yet even so, Li Yuechen decided it was not the time for such a tale. Scholars were masters of over-interpretation; even with these changes, they might accuse her of predicting the empire’s downfall.

So, Journey to the West it would be. There were few direct references to Emperor Taizong, and by adjusting a few minor details, she could avoid disrupting the overall storyline. At its core, it was a tale of a monkey fighting monsters—an adventure. Some monsters with backgrounds being rescued could even serve as a subtle jab at corruption among certain court officials. Not that Li Yuechen would ever admit to such intent—she was just a child, after all, writing about a monkey, with no ulterior motives!

Furthermore, with a few slight modifications, she could even enhance Emperor Taizong’s reputation—surely Li Zhi wouldn’t object!

Thinking this, Li Yuechen snapped her fingers with a crisp “pop”—she was indeed brilliantly clever!

When Xiaohé brought the writing materials and set them on the desk, Lady Zheng began grinding the ink with practiced hands. Nearby, Shangguan Wan’er sat obediently beside her mother, though her large eyes wandered curiously over the palace’s many decorations.

As she ground the ink, Lady Zheng carefully inquired, “What is Your Highness writing?”

“Just a tale of spirits and monsters,” Li Yuechen said with a smile, offering a cake to Shangguan Wan’er. “I found the Records of the Western Regions of the Great Tang quite dull the other day, so I thought, what if I added spirits and monsters? That would surely be more entertaining.”

Shangguan Wan’er’s wide eyes stared fixedly at the treat. Living in the Inner Palace, she rarely saw such confections, but strict upbringing made her hesitant to reach for it, so she turned to look at her mother.

Before Lady Zheng could refuse, Li Yuechen extended her hand further. “It is a gift from me—take it!”

Lady Zheng nodded. “If Your Highness bestows it, then accept.”

With her mother’s approval, Shangguan Wan’er accepted the cake with both hands and bowed. “Thank you, Your Highness!”

Lady Zheng was about to ask how the writing would proceed, but Li Yuechen waved her off. “No need today. I must organize my thoughts first. For the next few days, you and your daughter may wait here with me.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Lady Zheng replied, but then ventured, “Might I ask, during our idle hours, if I may borrow the brush and books here to teach my daughter?”

It was a gamble to make such a request. The palace servants often gossiped, and the most common rumor about this young princess was her kindness and generosity towards the staff. In the Inner Palace, Lady Zheng had tried to teach her daughter to read and write, but resources were scarce. Now, with the rare opportunity to be in the princess’s service, she decided to take a chance.

From their interactions so far, Lady Zheng found the princess exactly as rumored—adorable and entirely unpretentious. She made her request, watching Li Yuechen closely for any sign of displeasure, prepared to withdraw at once if necessary.

But Li Yuechen paid it no mind, nodding. “Education for children is paramount—of course!”

“Thank you, Your Highness!”

…

Over the next few days, except for her daily physical training, Li Yuechen spent her time in her chambers writing her slightly altered version of Journey to the West. In the blink of an eye, more than ten days passed, and August arrived.

Li Yuechen had just reached the part where Guanyin Bodhisattva appeared in Great Tang to enlighten Xuanzang and send him on his pilgrimage. This required some adjustments—there could be no mention of Li Shimin kneeling in welcome; instead, Guanyin would treat the Emperor with mutual respect, with each bowing to the other. Then Emperor Taizong would send Xuanzang off, giving him a cup of wine mixed with earth from his homeland at the city gates, wishing him a swift return. The story reached the point where Xuanzang arrived at Five-Finger Mountain, his two attendants were killed by a tiger, he was saved by a hunter, and met the Monkey King imprisoned beneath the mountain.

Realizing it was time to visit Lady Rongguo again, Li Yuechen set down her brush and, accompanied by Xiaohé, left the palace. With plenty of Golden Guards escorting her, her safety was assured; whether or not Eunuch Fu came was of little consequence.

…

That day, Li Zhi and Wu Meiniang, having surprisingly finished their memorials right after lunch, found themselves a bit at a loss. After some discussion, they decided to visit their daughter. Usually, it was their daughter who came to them, but Li Zhi, doting as he was, felt he should take the initiative.

Upon arriving at the Hall of Fragrant Harmony, Eunuch Fu hurried over to greet them. “Greetings, Your Majesty, Your Grace!”

“Where is Chen’er?” Li Zhi asked casually.

“Your Majesty, Her Highness just left the palace to visit Lady Rongguo.”

Li Zhi seemed a bit disappointed. “It seems our timing is off…”

Wu Zetian found his expression amusing and turned to ask, “What has Chen’er been doing lately?”

“Your Grace… Her Highness has been writing a novel of spirits and monsters,” Eunuch Fu replied awkwardly.

At this time, writing was considered serious business, and novels were not held in high regard. Wu Zetian immediately furrowed her brow, but Li Zhi waved a hand. “Bring it here!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

Li Zhi and Wu Zetian entered the hall and sat. Soon, Eunuch Fu returned with a thick stack of manuscript pages, respectfully presenting them. Glancing down, they saw the title—Journey to the West, Chapter One: The Birth of the Monkey King.

With nothing else to do and their daughter absent, the couple began to read. As they read on, the health ball in Li Zhi’s hand spun slower and slower, until it finally stopped altogether. Zhang Chengxin had Eunuch Fu brew tea to let the couple read in peace.

…

As the sun began to set, Li Yuechen returned. Even before entering, she noticed the increased number of palace maids at the entrance and immediately guessed her parents had come. Slipping off her shoes, she entered and, as expected, found her parents sitting on the couch, drinking tea, and the pile of manuscripts on the desk made it clear they’d been reading.

“Greetings, Father, Mother!” Li Yuechen offered a casual bow, then ran to sit beside Li Zhi. “Did you need something?”

Wu Zetian’s expression was somewhat stern as she held up the manuscript. “Chen’er, what is this?”

Li Yuechen obediently explained that, finding the Great Tang Records of the Western Regions dull, she had made some changes and written a novel of spirits and monsters.

Wu Zetian was about to say more, but Li Zhi interjected, curiosity on his face. “Chen’er, what is this?”

Following his pointing finger, Li Yuechen felt a headache rise. She’d forgotten about that. She had no choice but to explain, “These are… punctuation marks. When reading various books, I found them obscure and difficult to parse, so I used these to mark pauses.”

It was a genuine oversight. She hadn’t meant to do it; usually, when practicing calligraphy, she never used them. But writing a long novel for the first time, she’d slipped into old habits. Punctuation marks appearing in this era—who knew how the scholars would react? If they welcomed them, all would be well; if not, she could become the target of their poetic jibes.

In the Tang dynasty, there were no literary inquisitions, but satirical poetry was common—none more famous than the hot-tempered Luo Binwang. Li Yuanqing, the Prince of Dao, had once recruited talents, and Luo Binwang had worked under him for several years. When told to introduce himself for an assignment, Luo was incensed—he’d worked there five or six years, and the prince still didn’t know his name! Without another word, he wrote a scathing poem, resigned on the spot, and left.

It was also said that Du Fu enjoyed writing poems criticizing the emperor, though whether that was true was unclear—especially since Old Du had yet to be born in this era.

Now, Li Yuechen could only hope the scholars would accept punctuation marks. If not, and someone truly wrote a poem mocking her, there’d be nothing she could do.

Wu Zetian, however, seemed to approve, nodding. “Though writing such fanciful stories is frivolous, these marks are quite good—they clearly reduce the difficulty for children learning to read.”

Li Zhi, meanwhile, showed his paternal pride. “Indeed! Truly my daughter. These should be promoted!”

With the emperor’s decision, Li Yuechen had no say in the matter and would simply have to take it as it came.

As for the content of Journey to the West, Li Zhi had no complaints. Judging by his expression, he clearly wasn’t bothered. After all, his own father Li Shimin was depicted conversing with gods and immortals—a glorious highlight.

After dinner, the emperor and empress took their leave. Li Yuechen accompanied them to the palace doors. “Safe journey, Father and Mother.”

Wu Zetian suddenly cleared her throat. “When you finish the next chapters, bring them at once for us to read.”

Really? A reader urging for updates?

On second thought, it was understandable. Entertainment was scarce in this era. Though the literati might outwardly scorn such novels, in the end, they were likely to be captivated after all.

Suppressing a laugh, Li Yuechen bowed. “As you command!”

After watching them leave, her spirits lifted instantly. With the emperor and empress as fans, there was nothing to worry about—she could write freely. In high spirits, she skipped back into the Hall of Fragrant Harmony, humming as she went.

“I’ll watch the meteor shower with you as it falls on earth~ See the railway reach my hometown~”

Meanwhile, the departing couple discussed another matter.

“Your Majesty, about Chen’er’s handwriting…”

“Yes. The strokes are like blades, the script sharp and forceful. No wonder she’s been fond of martial arts since childhood!” Li Zhi stroked his beard with a smile.

Wu Zetian shook her head. “But such a temperament in a woman…”

Li Zhi gently took her hand. “Meiniang, do not worry. Chen’er is not a domineering child. Besides, with you and me here, who could ever bully her?”

…

After spending more than ten days together, Shangguan Wan’er had clearly grown much closer to Li Yuechen. As she helped grind the ink, she asked, “Your Highness, which one is the real Sun Wukong?”

“No spoilers! Once you read the next chapters, you’ll know,” Li Yuechen replied, all mystery.

Her calligraphy was still not up to par, so after drafting, Lady Zheng would usually help copy the final version. Even so, Li Yuechen’s handwriting was already distinctly different from the mainstream styles—perhaps due to her own aesthetics, it increasingly resembled Zhao Ji’s Slender Gold Script.

Perhaps it was the lighter workload, but Lady Zheng’s complexion had improved considerably in recent days—the weariness in her face had vanished, replaced by a healthy vigor. Each morning, as Li Yuechen practiced martial arts, Lady Zheng used the time to teach Shangguan Wan’er to read and write. With so many books at hand and a bright pupil, progress was visible each day.

Time passed. In court, Li Zhi announced that the princess had invented punctuation marks and asked whether they should be promoted. Led by Xu Jingzong and the North Gate Scholars, Wu Zetian’s advisors, the response was that they indeed aided children’s learning and should be widely adopted.

Thus, punctuation marks began to spread, and, together with the earlier invention of the princess’s plow, it was clear to all in court—these two things alone would secure her a place in history!

At this time, Li Yuechen remained entirely unaware that her reputation was rising steadily. She continued her disciplined routine—training her body, regularly visiting her master Liu Rengui and her grandmother Lady Rongguo, spending evenings playing with Shangguan Wan’er and her two sisters, and sometimes joining her brothers in the outer court for cockfights and other games.

Life, though seemingly routine, was fulfilling in every way.