Bickering

Li Zhi’s words left both Li Shimin and Empress Zhangsun momentarily speechless. The tutors were tasked with teaching all manner of children; how could they possibly alter their ways simply because he happened to be obedient at home? Li Shimin and Empress Zhangsun exchanged glances before saying to Li Zhi, “If you truly cannot endure the tutors’ strict ways, perhaps it would be better to wait a couple of years and begin your studies with your other brothers. What do you think?”

Hearing this, Li Zhi immediately squirmed out of Li Shimin’s embrace, resolutely declaring that he wanted to study now. This was not something he could compromise on; not only did he feel the need to make a good impression, but the earlier he began his education, the better. Besides, the thought of studying alongside that group of young children in the future gave him a headache—after all, his mental age was far beyond theirs.

Li Zhi’s determination left Li Shimin and Empress Zhangsun at a loss. They truly had no idea where to find a tutor who would not intimidate Li Zhi. Fortunately, Heaven rewards the diligent. Just as the imperial couple found themselves in a quandary, the ever-attentive eunuch Zhang Anan, who had long served at Li Shimin’s side, quietly suggested, “Your Majesty, I have heard that Lady Xue of the Da’an Palace comes from a most distinguished family. Perhaps…”

Li Shimin did not immediately grasp the meaning of Zhang Anan’s words, but Empress Zhangsun’s eyes lit up, and she exclaimed, “Indeed! Had the Chief Steward not mentioned it, I almost would have forgotten.” Li Shimin, puzzled by her reaction, asked, “Guanyin, do tell me what this is all about.”

Empress Zhangsun hurriedly explained. Lady Xue had once served in the palace of Emperor Gaozu, Li Yuan, so in strict terms, she was of Li Zhi’s grandmother’s generation. She hailed from one of the most illustrious families at the close of the Sui dynasty; her father, Xue Daoheng, was a renowned man of letters, and she herself was an accomplished and broad-minded scholar.

Since Lady Xue was both an elder and a woman, it seemed only fitting that she should instruct Li Zhi. Li Shimin, convinced by Empress Zhangsun’s reasoning, turned to Li Zhi and asked, “Would you be willing to let Grandmother Xue teach you to read?”

Li Zhi, unaware that Lady Xue had indeed been his historical tutor, thought that as one of his grandmother’s generation, she would surely be kind to him. He nodded at once and replied, “I would be honored.”

Perhaps it was fate that brought Li Zhi and Lady Xue together, for from the very first meeting, he felt a strong sense of closeness to her. And so, from that day forward, every morning Li Zhi would go to the Da’an Palace to study, not returning to the Taiji Palace until after lunch.

What delighted him most was that, after several days of study, he discovered he had perfectly inherited the scholarly prowess of his previous life.

Most crucially, this time his extraordinary talents were manifest in the humanities. Where once he had only passably mastered simplified characters, he now found traditional script came effortlessly to him. This realization made him all the more eager in his studies, and he put great effort into practicing his brushwork as well.

All of this did not escape Li Shimin’s notice, and the emperor was deeply gratified. He even took the rare initiative to personally instruct Li Zhi in calligraphy. This was an unexpected blessing for Li Zhi, for Li Shimin’s own calligraphy was superb, and with his guidance, Li Zhi’s progress was swift.

What’s more, it meant that Li Zhi had the chance to see his father nearly every day, affording him more opportunities to make a good impression. However, so intent was Li Zhi on presenting himself well that he gave no thought to how fierce and ruthless the competition among the royal princes could be.

His recent favor in the emperor’s eyes first began to affect his fourth elder brother by the same mother—Prince of Yue, Li Tai.

Though only eleven years old, Li Tai had already been appointed Grand Governor of Yangzhou and Governor of Yuezhou, as well as holding command over the military of sixteen further prefectures. His authority was second only to the Crown Prince, Li Chengqian, making it plain how highly Li Shimin regarded him.

Li Zhi’s outstanding performance soon made the previously favored Li Tai keenly aware of his father’s growing neglect. After all, as sovereign of the Tang, Li Shimin’s time for his children was limited by the demands of state.

That afternoon, as Li Zhi was practicing his calligraphy under Empress Zhangsun’s watchful gaze, a round, bustling figure hurried into the Hall of Upright Governance. Before the young eunuch at the door could announce him, a plump boy had already appeared before the empress and Li Zhi.

It was none other than Li Tai. Though Li Zhi had seen him several times before, he still could not help but silently marvel: this boy is truly overweight. To borrow a classic phrase, he was “as wide as a vat, though not as tall as one; apart from his rear, it was all waist.”

Upon entering, Li Tai first bowed properly to Empress Zhangsun, then made a show of approaching Li Zhi.

Li Zhi immediately recognized the act—Li Tai was waiting for him to stand first and pay his respects. Though he found it tiresome, decorum left him no choice. He rose and saluted, “Greetings, Fourth Brother.”

Li Tai forced a perfunctory smile onto his chubby face and replied with a cursory bow, then said, “I hear that you have begun learning your letters, Ninth Brother. I came especially to see how you are getting on.”

Li Zhi thought to himself, What business is it of yours whether I’m learning to read? Why the sudden concern? But aloud he replied, “Thank you for your interest, Fourth Brother. I am slow of wit and have not learned much yet.”

Though his words were modest, they were only to be expected from one his age. Yet Li Tai immediately adopted a didactic tone: “Since you have not learned many characters, you must work all the harder, and not disappoint Father and Mother’s hopes.”

Li Tai’s words made Li Zhi inwardly recoil with distaste. What’s that supposed to mean? I’m already studying diligently at such a young age—how is that not effort enough?

He could not help but retort, “I will certainly remember Fourth Brother’s advice and strive to surpass you as soon as possible, so as not to disappoint our parents.”

Li Tai was momentarily taken aback by this reply, then could not help but sneer, “Your ambitions are not small, Ninth Brother, but if you wish to surpass me in learning, I fear you will have little chance.”

Arrogant though his words were, they were not unfounded. Li Tai was favored by Li Shimin precisely because his literary talent was unrivaled among his brothers. At present, Li Zhi could not confidently claim he could surpass him.

Even so, he could not bring himself to back down. With unwavering resolve, he replied, “Then I ask Fourth Brother to wait and see. If I do succeed, I hope you will not hold it against me.”