Li Zhiwei was brought back to the Tang army’s main camp near Chang’an by Pei Xuanbao.
Li Zhiwei truly lived up to her name¹. Even though Pei Xuanbao had concealed his blade qi when he struck and accelerated instantly, Li Zhiwei still noticed the vicious blow he dealt to Zhou Yan. Her fingers dug into her palms.
The young woman’s breathing was rapid, her heart filled with an absurd feeling.
Even after returning to the military tent, Li Zhiwei remained in a daze.
Until the sound of murderous footsteps approached and drew near. The tent flap was violently thrown open, and a man in his early thirties strode in, wearing golden bright armor with full military regalia, still stained with blood, his left hand pressed against the pommel of his horizontal dao at his waist.
The man hurried over, sweeping aside his cloak and almost half-kneeling, pressing both hands on Li Zhiwei’s shoulders. “Zhiwei, you’re safe—how wonderful!”
“When the Eastern Capital fell, I kept thinking of you and your mother.”
Li Zhiwei drew a small breath, looking at the man before her.
This thirty-one-year-old man still had bloodshot eyes and much more white hair than before. His armor still carried the smell of blood. The An-Shi rebels were powerful—last year, it was this very father who had recaptured the Eastern Capital and settled her and her mother there.
Yet he hadn’t expected that when recapturing Chang’an, the Eastern Capital would fall again.
She no longer knew how to describe the hardships of this journey that had allowed her to survive.
Li Zhiwei looked at her father. Her gaze quickly and discreetly swept over Pei Xuanbao, then over the generals and school captains behind her father.
Li Zhiwei wanted to pour out everything Pei Xuanbao had done right here, but she clearly understood that her father was currently the commander, and this was the military camp. If she broke down crying and making a scene, demanding justice for that young man, it would cause her father to lose face before the army and would make him develop disgust toward her.
It would also make her mother’s final efforts…
She performed a bow and said word by word: “Your daughter Zhiwei greets Your Highness.”
“Fortunately, with the assistance of Colonel Pei of the Hedong Pei clan, your daughter was able to escape from that demonic lair.”
Pei Xuanbao observed Li Zhiwei and cupped his hands: “This humble general merely did his duty.”
Li Shu² said: “This isn’t a formal occasion—why call me ‘Your Highness’? Xuanbao, thank you for your efforts this time. Everyone else may withdraw first—let me reunite with my daughter.”
After Pei Xuanbao withdrew, Li Shu lifted Li Zhiwei and placed her on the low table beside the desk, speaking gently: “How did you escape? Where is your mother?!”
Li Zhiwei looked at Li Shu.
Half forcing herself to summon emotion, half genuine feeling.
Those large, bright eyes quickly became misty with tears.
Then large teardrops fell, and she said nothing.
She simply looked at Li Shu like an exquisite doll.
Li Shu already felt guilt and regret about the arrangements he had made for his concubine Lady Shen and this daughter, which had led to these consequences. Seeing that his daughter hadn’t caused him to lose face before the generals, his paternal love grew even stronger.
Seeing his daughter’s tears, that fatherly tenderness and emotion intensified.
He removed his arm guards and enveloped Li Zhiwei’s hands with both of his, speaking gently: “Ah-ye³ will take good care of you and will find your mother too.”
In the Tang dynasty, when father-child relationships were good, they would use the affectionate term “Ah-ye.”
Li Zhiwei’s lips trembled as if she were restraining her emotions. Finally, that grief collapsed like a mountain flood, pouring out torrentially as she cried: “Ah-ye, your daughter almost never saw you again!”
She reached out and embraced Li Shu. No matter what, they were still father and daughter.
The previous fear, the danger of escaping from the Eastern Capital, losing all her resources and being captured by demons, about to be devoured—all these terrors that had been suppressed before finally erupted when she met her father.
Li Zhiwei wept and trembled in her father’s arms like a fallen leaf in autumn rain. Li Shu’s paternal love grew stronger, and he had Li Zhiwei tell him everything about how she had escaped.
Li Zhiwei finally spoke of falling into the demons’ marketplace, crying: “If not for a righteous man, your daughter would have been killed and eaten by demons.”
Li Shu comforted his daughter: “Where is this righteous man? I must properly thank him for saving my daughter!”
Li Zhiwei had already recovered from her tears, her nose slightly red. She sniffled and said: “After we escaped, General Pei questioned him and discovered he wasn’t from a great family or noble clan, so he… he left him behind to attract those demons and only brought your daughter out.”
Great families…
A ripple flashed through Li Shu’s eyes.
Immediately, his political acumen made him wonder—could it be that his daughter hoped he would punish Pei Xuanbao and seek justice for that young righteous man who was most likely already dead?
But seeing his daughter’s face still childlike, soft, pitiful, lovable, and adorable when crying, how could she possess such scheming and cunning? Li Shu secretly shook his head, dispelling such doubts.
Ultimately, he had wronged the mother and daughter.
He stroked Li Zhiwei’s head, speaking gently: “Ah-ye will send people to find your mother. When the rebels are completely swept away, I’ll go destroy that demon lair to vent my child’s anger. As for Pei Xuanbao, Ah-ye will speak with him shortly.”
Li Zhiwei realized that her father had no intention of pursuing this matter.
A dead commoner versus a talent of the Hedong Pei family.
The choice wasn’t difficult.
Li Shu comforted Li Zhiwei and had her accompany the army into Chang’an city. After this fierce battle north of Xiangji Temple, the Tang elite successfully recaptured Chang’an. The recovery of the capital was an enormous boost to morale.
Li Zhiwei was assigned to a courtyard in the palace that was relatively intact and hadn’t been too severely damaged. The next day, she needed to pay her respects to her father’s principal wife, who had arrived later—Noble Consort Cui Lianqing of the Boling Cui clan.
Cui Lianqing’s father was the Tang dynasty’s Assistant Director of the Palace Library, and her mother was the Lady of Han. The Lady of Han’s younger sister was none other than Yang Yuhuan, the legendary beauty whose single smile could make flowers bloom throughout Chang’an.
During the Tianbao years, Yang Yuhuan was extremely favored. Combined with the Cui family’s status as one of the Five Surnames and Seven Clans⁴, Cui Lianqing was a first-rank noble lady who married the Prince of Guangping and was quite arrogant.
But at Mawei Slope, the Noble Consort died; when Chang’an fell, her maternal family was slaughtered entirely. Though she had followed the Prince of Guangping through hardships, recapturing lost territory, their affection had gradually grown thin.
That once-arrogant woman was now much quieter, carrying a cool beauty as she watched the setting sun. When she saw Li Zhiwei, she no longer showed the scrutiny and barbed remarks of the past, simply beckoning Li Zhiwei over warmly.
“One of my children still lives. Where is your mother?”
She and Li Zhiwei’s mother, Shen Miyun, had many conflicts before, but now she seemed to ask only as an old friend, her expression gentle. Li Zhiwei’s face grew calm as she forced a smile: “Mother should also be able to turn misfortune into fortune.”
Cui Lianqing looked at her face and spoke directly: “Your mother is already dead, isn’t she? At such a young age, you spin tales about your mother still being alive to prevent others from underestimating you too much. You truly live up to the name Zhiwei⁵.”
“But why did you return?”
Cui Lianqing reached out to caress Li Zhiwei’s face, revealing the cold truth beneath the warm father-daughter reunion: “His Highness left you and your mother in the Western Capital instead of bringing you along, and didn’t take you to Fengxiang with His Majesty under the army’s protection. You’re so precocious—you understood the hidden meaning long ago, didn’t you?”
Li Zhiwei didn’t answer.
Cui Lianqing said lazily: “His Highness has a new favorite—a woman of the Dugu clan.”
“Very young, talented in literature, with a supple figure. At this age, she reminds me of when we were young.”
“You, me, your mother, and my world-renowned aunt—all of us women spinning in these palace intrigues. Only at the end do we realize what we’ve been fighting for all along?”
“There will always be young, beautiful women from great families.”
“How can love and hate last forever?”
“Your mother and I have been fighting since we followed His Highness. Now your mother is gone, you’ve returned, and seeing you is like seeing an old friend, seeing what we used to be. It seems my time isn’t long either, is it?”
“You came to find me—what do you want?”
Li Zhiwei pressed her lips together and finally said: “Zhiwei has a benefactor…”
Cui Lianqing looked at her and said directly: “Chang’an has just been captured, and this is precisely when we need to rely on all parties. His Highness is thirty-one and already has over ten children, while His Majesty has even more. In Shu, the Retired Emperor is still there, and so are the rebels.”
“Not to mention your maternal grandfather—your mother has already died. Even if they were still alive, even if your mother’s Shen family were thriving, self-preservation would be difficult enough at this time. There are too many princes and imperial grandchildren.”
“Like a clay Buddha crossing a river, barely able to protect itself—what delusions can you harbor?”
“If I were you, I’d hide quietly in the palace!”
Li Zhiwei pressed her lips together, took her leave, and went to find her full brother Li Gangrang⁶: “…He’s already dead, Yunshu⁷. He must be dead.”
“Even if he’s not dead, so what?!”
Li Zhiwei said: “If he’s not dead, he must be waiting for me to find someone to rescue him.”
“How can I ignore my benefactor?!”
Li Gangrang fell silent, then said: “Yunshu, don’t be foolish. Things aren’t that simple.”
Li Zhiwei felt empty and hollow inside.
She actually understood that she and her mother’s inability to follow their father, and their inability to accompany their grandfather the Emperor to Fengxiang, already represented many things. Li Zhiwei was afraid—she wanted to retreat, she wanted to curl up too.
Li Zhiwei hugged her knees, curled up in the cold palace.
She stayed there until the sun rose.
Li Zhiwei exhaled and found paper and brush to write a memorial of gratitude to His Majesty the Emperor, expressing her safe return and congratulating His Majesty on recapturing Chang’an. She paused, and when she lifted her brush, she could hear her heart pounding.
She thought of her father’s evasion, her elder brother’s warning, Noble Consort Cui’s words.
But she continued writing anyway.
The young woman’s right hand trembled with fear, so she raised her left hand to steady it.
Thus the characters she wrote remained stable.
[However, it is regrettable that upon arrival, I discovered there was actually a demon marketplace feeding on the flesh of Chang’an’s people. Such a thing existing during such a great victory may damage the Emperor’s prestige, harm the great stability of Chang’an and the Western Capital, and tarnish Grandfather’s legitimate reputation in recapturing Chang’an]
This memorial of gratitude was sent to Fengxiang simply as the expression of a well-mannered young princess. On the third day, His Majesty the Emperor issued an order dispatching the Shuofang Army to sweep away the demon marketplace and save the people.
Additionally, Princess Li Zhiwei presumed to discuss state affairs and was punished.
According to Tang law, “presumptuous discourse” warranted thirty strokes of the cane.
No exemption granted.
Lady Cui rested her chin in her hand, looking at the confined young woman and asked: “What was the point?”
She poked Li Zhiwei’s calf with her fan.
Li Zhiwei hissed softly in pain but still answered quietly: “I don’t believe he’s dead. If he’s alive, I need to see him; if he’s dead, I need to see his body. How can I just be content with my own survival?”
“That’s their way of doing things. I refuse to be like that.”
Noble Consort Cui said: “Was it worth it?”
Li Zhiwei lay there, head down, answering: “To know gratitude and repay kindness.”
“That’s simply what a daughter of the Li family should do.”
Noble Consort Cui sighed. She reached out to lift Li Zhiwei’s face, but the girl refused, so she forcibly turned it up. That face was streaked with tears and snot, eyes red and swollen. Noble Consort Cui’s heart softened: “Does it hurt?”
Li Zhiwei bit her lower lip, her mouth trembling.
“No.”
Noble Consort Cui said: “Why say it doesn’t hurt?”
Being a clever woman, sharp and still carrying the arrogance of her youth, she deliberately said: “Oh, I understand. It’s because I’m not your mother after all—you absolutely refuse to show weakness and cry before me.”
Li Zhiwei paused. When she thought of that figure, for some reason, she finally couldn’t control herself, and large tears began falling.
“Non-nonsense!”
This intelligent, calm, brave young woman finally revealed her true self—biting her teeth, shedding tears, like an unwanted kitten showing its claws: “I’m not crying, I’m not!”
