Chapter 18: Writing the Script
Page (1/3)
“Ah... Me?” Li Xi felt indignant. Would these damned twin yellow dragons not rest until they had tormented him to death? He was about to utter something like, “Your servant acted rashly, I beg the king’s forgiveness,” but then thought better of it. Not only did he refrain from apologizing, he grinned broadly and met the little prince’s gaze head-on.
The round-faced young eunuch discreetly tugged at his trouser leg, his face filled with anxious concern, but under the heavy pressure, he dared not utter a warning.
The little prince saw someone, under his awe-inspiring finger, neither collapse nor kneel to beg for mercy. Instead of anger, delight showed on his face.
He propped his chin, slightly raised his neck, and sized up Li Xi, secretly pondering, “Who is this person, bold enough not to fear my authority? Quite interesting.”
Standing before Li Xi was a seven or eight-year-old boy named Li Zhan, the eldest son of Crown Prince Li Heng. Though only seven, he bore a nickname well-known throughout the capital: “Famed in two offices, three palaces, and presiding over Chang’an for ten thousand years.” He once boasted, “If I walk sideways, who in the world dares crawl upright?”
His grandfather was the reigning emperor; his grandmother, Lady Guo, was the chief consort of the inner palace; his father, the crown prince; his mother, the crown princess. Showered with countless favors, Li Zhan was long accustomed to ministers bowing their heads and generals wagging their tails before him. Now, a mere ninth-rank official dared to smile at him openly—how amusing! Such an interesting person, if killed without learning more, would be a pity, a waste, and terribly boring.
His gaze roamed over Li Xi, then Li Zhan suddenly spoke:
“Are you mute? Why have you stopped smiling? Those who disrespect me without exception lose their heads. Aren’t you afraid?”
Li Xi shook his head, his face radiating spring-like warmth.
Li Zhan found this even more intriguing and pointed to the “Vengeful Spirit Beast” behind him. “Do you recognize my treasure?”
Li Xi gently shook his head, still smiling warmly.
Li Zhan was even more amused. He pointed at Li Xi and shouted to the four armored guards behind him, “Drag this fellow who only knows how to smile but not speak outside and behead him.”
The guards immediately surged forward and seized Li Xi’s shoulders. Yet Li Xi continued to smile, as if basking in a gentle spring breeze, as they dragged him a few steps away.
“Wait, bring him back,” Li Zhan called.
Li Xi felt a rush of relief; he had already predicted the little prince would call him back. To lead the future powerhouse of the eunuch world, Qiu Shiliang, through the palace on a whim—how much power and recklessness must this person possess?
Such a person was born with rebellious hair; rebellious hair cannot be smoothed down, only handled with ingenuity and surprise. Smooth it well and you live; fail, and you meet a swift end.
“Your Highness need not ask why I laugh. I am merely cooperating with your performance.”
“Performance? What kind of performance? Speak quickly!” Li Zhan pressed him with wide, fierce eyes.
Page (2/3)
A child of six or seven, with whites of the eyes so large and irises so small they could be ignored—Li Xi stared, inwardly remarking on the peculiarity. Surely a portent; this boy didn’t look like a good sort.
“If my guess is right, Your Highness and Lord Qiu are enacting ‘King Wen of Zhou Leads His Steed to the Wei River and Visits Jiang Ziya’.”
Li Xi spoke calmly and waited for the little prince to be dumbfounded.
His two months as a musician at the Yichun Pavilion had broadened his horizons; he knew the three most fashionable activities in the palace: polo, cuju, and theater.
Polo was a man’s sport, cuju for women, but theater suited all ages.
By this era, a genre resembling the Yuan dynasty’s zaju had emerged, called “Ancient Performances,” dramatizing the boldness of emperors and ministers, the romance of scholars and beauties, and the excesses of commoners.
As the little prince was still young, polo was unsuitable, and cuju likely not for him; theater was inevitable. Royal children, raised in luxury, had seen and heard every kind of play. If suddenly confronted with a drama completely unfamiliar to him, Li Xi doubted his childlike curiosity wouldn’t be piqued. Once it was, Li Xi would have his opening.
This play, “King Wen of Zhou Leads His Steed to the Wei River and Visits Jiang Ziya,” was one the prince had never heard of, because a few minutes ago, it didn’t exist—Li Xi had invented it on the spot.
As expected, Li Zhan was bewildered. Hunting, theater, and gambling were his three famed hobbies, each mastered at the highest level. He had seen countless plays—court, street, and palace—but never this one. To ask about it would reveal ignorance; not to ask, though, left him unsettled.
But he was still just a child, and curiosity soon overcame everything.
“Ah, that King Wen of Zhou…”
“Oh, ‘King Wen of Zhou Leads His Steed to the Wei River and Visits Jiang Ziya.’”
“Yes, that King Wen of Zhou who visits Jiang Ziya…” Li Zhan said, and suddenly a spark flashed in his mind. He slapped his hand and exclaimed, “I remember! I’ve seen this play. It’s about King Wen of Zhou, who leads his beloved steed to the banks of the Wei River to seek a wise man, and encounters Jiang Ziya fishing. Thus begins the legendary tale of the Wu Zhou’s conquest of Shang. Isn’t that right?”
Li Xi bowed deeply, face filled with admiration, and said with emotion, “Your Highness is brilliant, precisely so.”
Li Zhan burst out laughing, pleased with his sudden wit, thoroughly delighted and intoxicated.
“To compare me to King Wen of Zhou isn’t bad; but to say you’re Jiang Ziya—hmph, how could you compare? You don’t even have a beard!” Li Zhan commented smugly, then glanced at Qiu Shiliang with mischief. “To have Qiu act as King Wen’s steed—well, that seems a bit beneath his talents.”
Qiu Shiliang hurriedly replied, “Your servant is willing to transform into a horse for Your Highness to command.”
After saying this, Qiu Shiliang shot Li Xi a sidelong glance and pursed his lips, inwardly unimpressed, muttering, “Where did this fellow come from, what kind of flattery is this? ‘King Wen of Zhou Leads His Steed to the Wei River and Visits Jiang Ziya’—any fool can guess the plot from the name. Is this even worth guessing? Ridiculous that our prince actually... Unbelievable, this is an insult to royal intelligence.”
Page (3/3)
Though he was inwardly disdainful, his flattery overflowed, leaving Li Zhan dizzy with delight, the gloom on his face swept away.
Li Xi breathed a silent sigh of relief; it seemed his risky move had paid off. These princes, raised amid power and ambition, which one was not tainted by the lust for authority, a slave to power from childhood?
A prince who worships power, which of them doesn’t wish to stand alone? By inventing a vague, grand story and likening him to King Wen of Zhou, founder of an eight-century dynasty, who wouldn’t be pleased to hear it? Making him happy resolved Li Xi’s own crisis.
Such an arrogant, unruly prince—give him the title of emperor in private and he would accept it without flinching and even cherish it. If he knew what “humility” meant, he wouldn’t be parading Qiu Shiliang about the palace.
Li Xi’s calculation had reason, but Li Zhan’s joy now was not only for that. He was suddenly elated because he had found a way to solve his current predicament.
At seven years old, Li Zhan was caught in a dangerous whirlpool; one misstep could bring disaster. But Li Xi’s words had given him inspiration, and suddenly all his troubles seemed resolved. The clouds above his head parted, and the sky was clear and bright.
And all because of a single sentence from this ninth-rank official. For flattery delivered so skillfully, the crime of smiling at the prince was forgiven; merits and faults balanced, no further reward would be given.
His mind at ease, Li Zhan entered the reed shelter and settled on a stool, drinking from a bowl of tea someone else had used. He wiped his mouth and said to Qiu Shiliang, who was bent over serving him, “You’ve worked hard today. Look at you, covered in dust—why not take off your clothes and wash up here?”
This offhand remark nearly made Qiu Shiliang wish for death. To strip and bathe before a crowd of men, exposing his deformed body—oh, my little master, are you trying to kill your old servant?
But he dared not say this to Li Zhan; he knew his temper too well. If provoked, who knew what cruel trick he might devise?
“Sigh, thank you for Your Highness’s compassion.”
Qiu Shiliang bowed, turned, and hunched over like an old woman of seventy or eighty, shuffling toward the side hall.
A hundred pairs of eyes watched him, each with their own thoughts, few of them kind.
The emperor, to restrain regional warlords and court ministers, favored eunuchs. Eunuchs commanded armies, supervised troops, participated in court deliberations, and wielded immense power. This had long stirred resentment among ministers and local officials. The eunuch-controlled Divine Strategy Army, thanks to its proximity to power, enjoyed privileges unmatched by other troops.
Due to unfair treatment, border and regional troops envied the Divine Strategy Army, and since eunuchs controlled it, their resentment extended to eunuchs themselves. Qiu Shiliang, a eunuch, now made a public spectacle, brought satisfaction to the officers.
---