Chapter Twenty-Two: Gradually Becoming a Devoted Father
This bout of playful commotion truly drew Li Zhi out from the depths of sorrow he’d felt since Li Ji’s passing.
Li Yuechen was delighted, and two days later, Fulai returned bearing a mountain of items.
“Your Highness, all the objects commissioned by the Imperial Workshop are complete. Please inspect them.”
Gazing at the stand before her, Li Yuechen unfolded it and placed it in the center of the hall. Then, with Fulai and Xiaohe’s help, she set the large round tabletop atop the opened frame.
Yes, it was a table.
In this era, meals were always served individually. But this New Year’s Eve, Li Yuechen intended her family to dine together.
She crouched beneath the table, aligning the notches precisely before letting them lower the tabletop. Then she crawled out and gave it a shake—steady enough. She picked up a nearby folding chair, opened it, and sat, testing its comfort. It felt surprisingly good.
Technically, it was nothing complicated; the key was simply whether one could envision it.
The chair was made of wood; its joints held together by a small iron rod—simple and effective.
Fulai then carried in a bronze stove, its base fitted with a cavity for charcoal and its top resembling a basin.
Shangguan Wan’er watched Li Yuechen examine it curiously and could not help but ask, “Your Highness, what is this?”
“Hotpot!” Li Yuechen smiled, placing it in the center of the round table. “After this year, we’ll make a smaller one for daily use. This one is for dining with Grandfather.”
Shangguan Wan’er seemed puzzled but nodded obediently.
Li Yuechen turned and patted her head. “You’ll see how it’s used when I demonstrate.”
Wan’er bowed her head, murmuring, “I’m a year older than Your Highness…”
“I know,” Li Yuechen replied, not quite understanding, but not pressing the issue. She waved to Fulai. “Fulai, the day before New Year’s Eve, have the Imperial Kitchen freeze fresh lamb and slice it thinly—half lean, half fat.”
“Understood!” Fulai replied, memorizing the instructions.
Once everything was arranged, Li Yuechen stood with hands on her hips before the round table, nodding at the bronze pot.
Indeed, winter was for families to gather around hotpot!
Truth be told, she’d wanted dumplings for New Year’s Eve—but that could wait. Hotpot first!
The festive atmosphere of ancient New Year’s celebrations was always intense, mainly due to the lack of entertainment.
Li Yuechen loved this ambiance. In the future, though entertainment would flourish, the bonds between people would feel more distant.
Ordinary folk felt it; how much more so for an orphan like Li Yuechen? She usually spent New Year’s skiing, feeling the wind and freedom, observing the rugged, lonely peaks.
...
In the imperial court, officials lined either side, holding their tablets, standing lost in thought.
Li Zhi, seated on the dragon throne, glanced behind the beaded curtain at Wu Zetian. They exchanged a smile.
“Yesterday, the Princess said New Year’s Eve is a time for family reunion. She suggested I cancel the New Year’s Eve banquet and have the ministers attend the court on New Year’s Day instead… I find her words reasonable. What say you, my loyal ministers?”
Upon hearing this, nearly all the officials raised their heads, incredulous at the emperor.
After all, this tradition had been observed for years; to suddenly abolish it seemed abrupt.
Yet, honestly, most of the ministers silently supported the idea—not for any lofty reason, but simply because it was exhausting.
On New Year’s Eve, they’d dine and watch performances, then sleep less than an hour before rising to attend court again.
The younger ones managed, but the elder statesmen could barely endure.
Even the young secretly approved; after all, they’d prefer to drink and celebrate freely—but in the emperor’s presence, they dared not.
Why? Because one careless drunken remark before the emperor could ruin their year.
Both young and old favored the change; no one stood to oppose it. The hall was so silent, a pin could drop.
Yet, all eyes turned to the senior officials of the Censorate.
Those elders sensed the scrutiny and wavered internally.
They were not young; they too preferred the new arrangement.
However, this went against tradition, and by duty, they ought to speak out.
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The senior censor Zhao Renben subtly raised his arm, using his tablet to shield his face as he glanced at his colleagues, exchanging furtive looks.
With their eyes, they asked: Should they at least offer token opposition?
But if the emperor rescinded his decree after their protest, they’d be forced to endure the old exhausting routine.
For a moment, the censors were caught in indecision.
Watching their dilemma, Li Zhi felt immensely satisfied, taking a deep breath.
Were it not the imperial court, he might have danced with joy.
Seeing them still wavering, Li Zhi stood and declared, “Since none oppose, let it be settled. Court is adjourned!”
He took Wu Zetian’s hand and left. Zhao Renben instinctively lowered his tablet and called, “Your Majesty…”
“Court—adjourned!” Zhang Chengxin’s shrill voice drowned him out, echoing through the hall.
The ministers turned as one and marched out, as if afraid the emperor would change his mind.
Normally, debates raged between factions and the emperor over matters trivial and grand, but today, all were united in silent agreement!
“Hahaha…”
Outside the hall, Li Zhi burst into laughter, unable to hide his joy. Usually, he was battered by the censors, but today, he’d finally got his own back.
Wu Zetian laughed as well, nearly doubling over. “Did you see Zhao Renben’s face just now, Your Majesty?”
“Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! Hahaha…”
The couple, hand in hand, walked away in high spirits, leaving a trail of laughter behind.
...
In the blink of an eye, New Year’s Eve arrived. Since Li Zhi had agreed to follow Li Yuechen’s plans this year, the banquet was held in the Hall of Fragrant Offerings.
By sunset, the four brothers and two sisters had all arrived. Li Zhi and Wu Zetian were still handling official documents and would come later.
Inside the hall, a round table stood at the center, surrounded by just enough chairs. Beneath the bronze pot, charcoal burned; the broth above was already bubbling.
A pity this era lacked chili peppers—Li Yuechen felt the hotpot lacked its soul.
Still, the sesame sauce, flavored with various seasonings, was an acceptable substitute.
Plates of thinly sliced lamb, half fat and half lean, were arranged nearby—slightly thicker than those produced by future machines, but not by much.
As for vegetables, only cabbage and tofu were available. It was winter; there were no greenhouses or preservation methods, so choices were scant.
Li Yuechen urged her siblings to sit and chat around the table.
“Yuechen, do you mean for us to dine together?” Li Hong asked.
“Won’t Father and Mother be upset?” Li Xian, meanwhile, repeatedly unfolded and folded his chair, thoroughly entertained.
Princess Xuancheng propped her chin on the table. “They won’t. Father and Mother always appreciate Yuechen’s creations.”
Li Hong nodded. “This is indeed novel—who would have thought of such a way to eat?”
He watched Li Xian play with the folding chair, finding it quite amusing as well.
Soon, Li Zhi and Wu Zetian finished their documents and arrived. The children rose to greet them.
“Good, good, no need for formalities.” Li Zhi chuckled, slipping off his shoes as he entered. He eyed the bubbling hotpot with curiosity.
“Yuechen, what is this?”
“It’s called hotpot. Normally, we eat separately, but I thought it would be nicer for the family to gather together.” Li Yuechen flashed a bright smile.
Li Zhi understood and nodded, “Haha, this is indeed quite new.”
Li Xian chimed in, “There’s more novelty than just this—look, Father and Mother, this chair is like a stool, but much more fun.”
Watching him manipulating the folding chair, Li Zhi and Wu Zetian were intrigued. Its mechanism was simple, obvious at a glance.
But since no one had thought of it before, it highlighted their youngest daughter’s cleverness.
Wu Zetian smiled, “It’s certainly more comfortable than kneeling.”
“Father and Mother, please take your seats. It’s getting late—time to start the banquet,” Li Yuechen reminded them.
Li Zhi nodded and sat with Wu Zetian at the head, the other children taking their places around.
Looking at the array of meat, cabbage, and tofu, he hesitated. Then he turned to ask, “Yuechen, how does one eat this?”
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He reached for the sesame sauce, about to drink it straight.
Li Yuechen stifled her laughter and stopped him, “Father, that’s a dipping sauce—not for drinking.”
She then explained how to eat hotpot, waiting for Li Zhi and Wu Zetian to try first.
The couple, intrigued, followed her instructions—using chopsticks to drop a slice of lamb into the broth, fishing it out in seconds, dipping it in sauce, and tasting it.
“Excellent flavor!” Li Zhi nodded approvingly. “Meiniang, try it as well!”
Wu Zetian tasted it. “Indeed, delicious!”
With the adults leading, the children eagerly joined in, tossing lamb slices into the pot, fishing them out as soon as their color changed, and dipping them in sauce.
The novel taste filled each mouth, making their eyes widen in surprise.
Only Li Yuechen felt a touch dissatisfied—hotpot without chili was truly soulless.
At first, everyone was fairly restrained, as usual, eating properly.
But sitting together, conversation was inevitable. As chatter grew lively, Li Zhi ordered wine.
The palace’s special sake—it was called sake, but in truth it was amber-hued.
Li Yuechen had never tasted it, but sniffed, finding no hint of alcohol; she guessed it was weaker than beer.
Among the family, only the two sisters and Li Hong and Li Xian were of age to drink. The other three children received glasses of fruit juice.
A few cups in, Li Zhi grew more talkative.
“Though there’s no music or dance this year, gathering as a family is truly joyful.”
“Indeed, it feels more festive than past years,” Wu Zetian agreed.
Perhaps because there were no ministers watching, no fear of censors’ rebuke, the atmosphere was much more relaxed.
The couple even joked with each other.
“Your Majesty, your beard is covered in sauce,” Wu Zetian laughed.
Li Zhi waved it off with a smile, “No matter, I’ll clean up after eating.”
Li Zhi was flushed and sweating, his clothes loosened.
Wu Zetian tidied his rumpled collar, “You hardly look the sage now.”
“Better not to!” Li Yuechen interjected.
“Yuechen, mind your tongue!” Wu Zetian scolded.
Li Yuechen looked up, “But it’s true! What’s the good of being emperor? Father and Mother are busy every day, hair turning white from worry! If we were an ordinary family, you’d be much happier!”
Wu Zetian paused, glancing at Li Zhi.
Li Yuechen had spoken intentionally, seizing the moment to instill in her brothers the idea that being emperor was exhausting, hoping to prevent future fratricidal strife.
“Father’s health is poor; he should be resting, yet he still works daily for the state. The ministers aren’t concerned, but I am!” Li Yuechen feigned indignation.
Wu Zetian was about to speak, but Li Zhi placed a hand on her shoulder.
He clearly adored his filial daughter, smiling. “I know your heart, Yuechen, but you’re young, unaware of state affairs’ importance. You’ll understand when you grow up.”
Li Yuechen pouted and turned aside, sulking.
Wu Zetian laughed, “If you care for us, don’t be cross. On Father’s behalf, I promise we’ll spend more time playing with you—will that do?”
Li Yuechen turned back, still wearing a stern face, and asked stiffly, “Is that true?”
Li Zhi found her adorable, bursting into laughter and nodding, “It’s true!”
Only then did Li Yuechen nod, giving a reluctant “mm.”
Though her tantrum seemed childish, it stemmed from concern, so instead of scolding, the couple cajoled her.
Li Zhi’s affection for his daughter grew stronger; he pulled her onto his lap, comforting her.
“All right, all right, don’t be upset, Yuechen. Here, let Father get you some tofu…”
Her siblings watched Li Zhi’s gentle demeanor, wanting to laugh but not daring, each holding back until their faces were flushed red.