Chapter Thirty-Seven: Turning the Tables

In Li Longji’s eyes, Gao Xianzhi, standing upright at the side, resembled a pillar—straight and striking. To be fair, he truly admired this man; otherwise, after his failed attempt to take command of Hexi, he would not have granted him the substantive title of Grand General of the Right Feathered Forest Guards. This was no empty honorific like other grand marshal titles; among the six imperial armies, the Left and Right Feathered Forest Guards ranked foremost. Within the southern palace’s guards, the Right Feathered Forest was directly responsible for palace wall defenses—the famed Xuanwu Gate fell within his charge. It was, in every sense, a mark of the emperor’s utmost trust.

Unlike Fat An’s corpulent figure, this Korean general possessed a commanding presence and strikingly handsome features. Though this occasionally stirred a twinge of jealousy in the sovereign, as long as he did not covet the emperor’s favored boys, such looks were a considerable advantage. Good looks, after all, transcend time and space.

“Lord Gao, what do you think? Is Chancellor Li’s proposal feasible?” Li Longji did not immediately make his stance known, but instead signaled to Gao Lishi to help Li Linfu rise.

“This pertains to me and I ought to excuse myself, for every honor and promotion I have received has come from Your Majesty, leaving no room for my own preference. Yet since Your Majesty has posed the question, I must answer, though I do so with trepidation,” Gao Xianzhi replied. This was not a prearranged scene; he had to improvise on the spot.

“Speak freely,” the emperor encouraged.

“It is not suitable for me to take up the post of Hexi Military Commissioner now,” Gao Xianzhi declared.

Li Linfu, who was just then adjusting his official cap with Gao Lishi’s help, paused, his movement slowing. Li Longji, meanwhile, fixed him with an amused, knowing look.

“Is it that you cannot bear to leave the capital’s splendor?” the emperor teased.

“I cannot bear to lose Your Majesty’s trust,” Gao Xianzhi replied, bowing earnestly. “Had last year’s events never transpired, I might have gone to Hexi, gradually established my authority, won over the other generals, and served your cause without regret, even unto death. But now, the other generals still harbor resentment. If I return again, no matter how open and guileless I appear, how can I win their hearts? With war looming, I will have no time to win each over. Only bloodshed and severity will enforce my will. If, in the end, they present a united front but remain inwardly estranged, Hexi may become another disaster like Sichuan, and then no amount of deaths on my part would suffice as atonement.”

Such were words fit for the governance of a realm. Li Longji let out a long sigh. For all his selfishness and intolerance, Li Linfu’s judgment was sound—Gao Xianzhi’s words echoed his own thoughts exactly.

“It was presumptuous of me,” Li Linfu conceded, tying his sash and, with Gao Lishi’s help, laboriously rising to his feet. “Gao Xianzhi truly is not fit to return to Hexi. There remains but one solution.”

Li Longji understood his meaning; the two were in perfect accord.

“Draft another edict. Appoint Geshu Han as both Prefect of Wuwei and Military Commissioner of Hexi, granting him authority over the troops of all counties.”

With these words, the dynasty’s fourth border general to hold dual commands over two regions was thus appointed.

“With each region now under its own command, any large-scale troop movement will quickly be detected by the Tibetan scouts. In my view, the armies should advance in stages. However, this is a matter of great consequence. To ensure victory, the main commander must personally oversee the operations, adapting to the situation as it unfolds,” Li Linfu advised.

“So be it, as the chancellor suggests,” Li Longji agreed without hesitation. To him, this was only natural. Only Gao Lishi, standing to the side, furrowed his brow in secret. But as the emperor had spoken, he stifled his intention to offer further counsel.

When Li Linfu and Gao Xianzhi had finished their audience and departed, Li Longji slowly realized that everything Li Linfu had done that day was merely to pave the way for that final suggestion.

With a crash, a porcelain cup from Yuezhou tribute was hurled to the ground, shattering to pieces.

“Your Majesty, do not let anger harm your health,” Gao Lishi rushed forward, supporting him and gently massaging his back.

“Am I getting old?” the emperor asked.

“Your Majesty is in the prime of life—how could you speak of age?”

Li Longji pushed him aside and raised the jade flute in his hand, gazing at it. “Then someone must think me old and senile. Hmph. One day, I shall show them what it means to deceive the Son of Heaven.”

Gao Lishi dared not respond. When the emperor had calmed somewhat, he spoke softly, “It is nearly time for supper. Shall I summon the consort to dine with you?”

Li Longji had little appetite, but nonetheless nodded. Even if he did not eat, it pleased him to watch.

Completely unaware of these undercurrents, Gao Xianzhi left Xingqing Palace with Li Linfu. Seeing that the chancellor did not board his sedan chair, Gao Xianzhi thought he might have something to say. But even as they reached the palace gates, not a word was spoken.

“I shall take my leave here, Chancellor. Please, after you.”

Li Linfu seemed lost in thought, oblivious, but suddenly he sighed.

“Ah, a contest where both sides suffer, a struggle to the death—even if the game is broken, the sovereign’s favor is lost. In the end, it is still a loss,” Li Linfu said with a tone full of desolation. “Today, you performed admirably. But in days to come, do not seek me out again. The cleaner the break with the Li family, the better.”

With that, he patted Gao Xianzhi’s arm, boarded his sedan chair, and did not look back.

Li Linfu’s entourage was renowned in the capital. The Golden Guards alone who cleared the way at the head of his procession numbered in the hundreds, their grand column filling the entire street. Yet to Gao Xianzhi, it all seemed like Li Linfu’s earlier words: as splendid as fire boiling oil, as dazzling as flowers upon brocade—yet when the climax passes, no resonance remains.

That unexpected audience had delayed him considerably. By the time Gao Xianzhi hurried to Pingkang Ward, dusk was falling. Along the street, the lanterns of every shop were being lit one by one, illuminating the night sky of Chang’an like countless stars in the Milky Way.

This was the most brilliant civilization of its age—bar none.

He entered a restaurant in the ward, where the upper floor’s private rooms were separated by folding screens. The sounds of dice games, drinking contests, and flirtatious banter filled the air. Waiters in narrow-sleeved tunics bustled about, occasionally exchanging greetings with familiar patrons.

“Take me to the table reserved for the Twenty-Seventh Young Master,” he instructed.

The host led him upstairs and into a private room. There, his guest was already deep in his cups, surrounded by courtesans, waving a wine cup and swaying his head in drunken merriment.

“Rosy lips faintly blushing... like peach blossoms, ah, her morning makeup shyly set, her hair in a side knot...”

Gao Xianzhi shook his head and turned to the attendant. “Clear all this away, set another table, warm two pots of wine, and leave two musicians to attend. The rest can be summoned if needed.” Noticing his guest’s drunken state, he added, “And bring a bowl of sobering soup.”

Clad in the regular attire of a military officer, his bearing made his rank obvious. The attendant took careful note of each request, called in several staff to clear the room, and left two clever musicians behind as the rest departed with the dishes and cups.

“Twenty-Seventh Young Master, wake up. Wake up,” he called.

His guest, bleary-eyed, roused a little under his nudging, opening his mouth to exhale a strong waft of wine.

“Look closely and she seems a lady upon the balcony—let her not, in her drunkenness, return to Mount Wu...”

Gao Xianzhi could not help but laugh at the scene, half in amusement, half in exasperation.