Recalling that he had tormented the person quite harshly last night, Li Shi didn’t make things too difficult, settling for symbolic intimidation.
Returning to his seat, Su Cen straightened his clothes, using the opportunity to conceal some of the panic in his expression.
Li Shi tapped the window frame casually and asked: “This was your morning court agenda today?”
Su Cen thought to himself that this old fox’s cultivation was indeed profound—just exploring briefly, he had already understood the whole situation. Testing the waters, he asked: “What do you think?”
Li Shi snorted with laughter: “Such trivial matters are worth debating all day?”
Su Cen: “…”
Fine, the Prince was mighty. Back when Prince Ning ruled autocratically in a one-man court, “such trivial matters” were indeed just a matter of one sentence—once Prince Ning made a decision, who would dare say otherwise?
However, now that the young emperor ruled personally, a child naturally lacked Li Shi’s breadth and boldness. In the early days of personal rule, widely accepting advice and learning to choose among options was also a required discipline.
“The marriage alliance must certainly proceed. For a great nation to retreat over such insubstantial matters would invite ridicule.”
Li Shi finally gave his position, and Su Cen nodded along: “I share your view. That Mohe dares make such a request shows he knows we have no reason to refuse. So the key issue isn’t whether to form the marriage alliance, but how to restrain the Turks afterward, preventing them from using Great Zhou’s advantages to further expand territory and develop wolfish ambitions.”
Li Shi narrowed his eyes, examining the person before him. Several years of official tempering hadn’t worn away his edges—instead, he had become even more brilliant. Calm in adversity, hitting the nail on the head, increasingly displaying the bearing of a prime minister.
Li Shi continued asking: “Then you must already have an idea?”
“I do have one thought, and was hoping to seek the Prince’s guidance.”
Su Cen spoke humble words, but his expression was clearly proud. Li Shi smiled knowingly—this wasn’t waiting for guidance, but for praise.
“Speak.”
“Mohe wants a princess for marriage alliance, so we’ll send a princess. However, our Great Zhou princess is of noble status and certainly couldn’t adapt to the harsh northern desert climate. Food, clothing, housing, and transportation would all be inconvenient, so she’d inevitably need to bring her own retinue.”
Li Shi understood: “You want to place our spies among these retainers.”
Su Cen smiled and nodded: “I want to establish a Princess Residence in Turkic territory. Ostensibly to care for the princess’s daily needs, but secretly to monitor the Turks. If they truly develop ulterior motives, having our people there would make intelligence more accessible.”
Having finished speaking, Su Cen looked at Li Shi and waited patiently. He saw the man gently fidgeting with his thumb ring, neither approving nor disapproving.
Was there still some unconsidered aspect? Su Cen’s proud expression gradually faded, replaced by a frown. Or was this method simply unfeasible?
After a moment, Li Shi asked again: “Why didn’t you mention this in court just now?”
Su Cen breathed a sigh of relief and smiled: “I actually wanted to see what the young emperor planned. Did you notice? Many of His Majesty’s decisions are actually correct. Perhaps influenced by your subtle guidance, his consciousness already has answers for many things. He just lacks self-confidence, so he wavers between sides, unable to decide.”
Li Shi nodded. Ultimately, this was related to him too. Back when he was regent, Prince Ning had always been decisive, making countless decisions for this realm—and most of these decisions proved correct afterward. This created psychological dependency in the young emperor: just follow along, since it would always turn out right in the end. Now, having to make his own decisions without that strong figure to choose for him, while still wanting to choose correctly, he inevitably had to think and observe more, appearing indecisive.
So Su Cen was waiting—waiting for the young emperor to decide for himself, waiting to present these plans after everything was settled. This both supported the young emperor and served to stabilize popular sentiment.
This little fox was almost becoming a spirit too.
Seeing Li Shi nod, Su Cen knew Li Shi approved of his approach and immediately became animated again: “With the Princess Residence as precedent, Great Zhou could continue placing other institutions in Turkic territory—trade supervisory offices, maritime trade bureaus. While promoting commercial exchange, we might even conduct business through the Turks all the way to Persia and the Abbasid Caliphate.”
Indeed, Lord Su possessed not only strategies for stabilizing the nation, but also a merchant’s cunning. Seeing business opportunities immediately reminded him of family enterprises: “Then we could have big brother open a couple tea houses there—business would definitely be excellent.”
But his voice gradually lowered toward the end. Back when he had severed ties with the Su family over Li Shi’s affairs, though he had feared implicating his family, his words had been decisive and had truly hurt his parents. Their relationship remained unreconciled to this day.
“Let me suggest another strategy,” Li Shi knew he was thinking of sad matters again and changed the subject: “Now that Tibet is severely defeated and seeks peace with Great Zhou, we could command Tibet to send hostage princes to the capital to receive education alongside Great Zhou’s royal children.”
Su Cen immediately understood: “You want to use this opportunity to support Tibet as a counterbalance to the Turks.”
“At least it’s a deterrent, letting them know they’re not the only power beyond the passes.”
Su Cen smiled with narrowed eyes: “Indeed, ginger gets spicier with age.”
Li Shi’s gaze turned coldly toward him: “Who’s old?”
“…Prime Minister Wen is old.” Su Cen thought this word “old” truly couldn’t be mentioned anymore. Now he could only go with the flow and temporarily wrong Prime Minister Wen.
Only after coaxing away the man’s temper did this matter pass. Li Shi leaned back lightly in his chair and closed his eyes to rest: “This Wen Xiu too—the older he gets, the smaller his courage becomes.”
These words carried some sentimental meaning. Hearing them, Su Cen suddenly had a thought and asked: “There’s still something I can’t understand.”
Li Shi remained with eyes closed, indicating he should continue.
“During the ‘Tiancheng Rebellion,’ why did you leave military authority to Prime Minister Wen?”
Li Shi finally opened his eyes: “Because anyone might defect to Li Sheng—except him. It was impossible.”
“Why?”
Li Shi suddenly smiled: “What you really want to ask about—is it Wen Xiu, or Wen Shu?”
Su Cen froze, instantly flushing. He thought his question had been roundabout enough, but this old fox still detected the underlying meaning. He indeed wanted to ask about Wen Shu. The cause of Wen Shu’s death directly determined Wen Xiu’s attitude toward Li Shi as brother-in-law. Understanding their relationship might allow him to indirectly discover the truth about Wen Shu’s death.
He didn’t know why he was so obsessed with that old truth, but this matter was like a thorn stuck in his throat—neither coming up nor going down, lodged between him and Li Shi, quite uncomfortable.
Moreover, Li Shi deliberately concealed it from him, even going so far as to expel Qi Lin from Xingqing Palace.
With no escape, only Li Shi could provide breakthrough on this matter. Su Cen looked directly at Li Shi, meeting his gaze with burning eyes: “I want to know.”
After a long while, Li Shi extended his hand toward him: “Come here.”
Su Cen placed his hand forward and sat beside Li Shi, watching that large hand envelop his—warm and solid, suddenly bringing peace to his heart.
“There’s nothing that can’t be said. Father Emperor arranged the marriage. Li Xun married the niece of founding Duke Xiao Yongqian, so Father Emperor designated the daughter of the current Left Prime Minister for me—evenly matched, mutually restraining. But I was wholly focused on frontier warfare then and neglected her.”
“The war was pressing at that time. I couldn’t stay in the capital more than a few days a year. I still lived in the mansion from my enfeoffment, too lazy to manage it properly. Inside and out, it was infiltrated everywhere by people with ulterior motives. I kept my capable people with me and thought that as a sheltered lady who didn’t involve herself in worldly affairs, no one would trouble her. I never thought to leave her some protection.”
“Later, something happened.” Li Shi pressed his forehead. “By the time I rushed back, she had already died. The coroner told me she was carrying a three-month-old child in her womb.”
“How… how could this happen?” Just a few sentences, yet Su Cen listened in terror. “Who did it?”
Li Shi shook his head: “Though I can roughly guess.”
Li Xun had secretly established the Secret Door to contend with him, and the Secret Door’s leader Li Sheng was a madman. He had always viewed Li Shi as an opponent, trying to steal everything from him. If not for needing Li Xun’s support, he might even have thought himself to be Li Shi.
His intentions were truly malicious—taking Li Shi’s woman for himself, then when Li Shi returned, he’d have to clean up the mess. Either endure humiliation and raise the child, or break completely and sever ties with the Wen family.
He just hadn’t expected that Wen Shu, a sheltered young lady who never left her chambers, would have such courage—hanging herself from the rafters with three feet of white silk for a husband she had barely met.
“The matter of Miss Wen’s pregnancy… did the Wen family know?”
“Only I and a few of the Three Guards of Tuduo knew this. The coroner and several informed servants were all silenced. Publicly, it was announced as death from severe illness.” Li Shi patted Su Cen’s already stiffening hand gently. “But there’s a connection between father and daughter—the old Prime Minister must have sensed something.”
Su Cen suddenly understood. No wonder Li Shi felt secure leaving military authority to Wen Xiu, and no wonder he remained tight-lipped about Miss Wen’s cause of death. Concerning a woman’s chastity, he would rather be wrongly accused of personally killing Wen Shu than reveal half the truth.
If he hadn’t heard some of the truth from Qi Lin, would Li Shi have planned to hide this from him forever?
Li Shi reached out and pulled the person into his embrace: “What are your thoughts?”
Su Cen leaned gently against his shoulder: “Miss Wen was pure and chaste, a virtuous woman.”
He heard a quiet sigh from above: “I failed her.”
They spoke no more the entire way. Only when they entered Xingqing Palace and dismounted together did Su Cen, looking at the now impregnable Xingqing Palace, suddenly understand Li Shi’s intentions.
Back then, Li Shi had forcefully occupied Xingqing Palace and insisted on bringing the Three Guards of Tuduo back to the capital, making Xingqing Palace an impenetrable fortress—all to protect what he wanted to protect and prevent history from repeating itself.
Having returned early today for once, Su Cen felt inspired. He pulled Li Shi to the lakeside pavilion and brought out black and white stones, wanting to play a couple games—partly to ease the somewhat heavy atmosphere from earlier, and partly to properly accompany Li Shi. This past month of early departures and late returns had indeed been somewhat neglectful.
When Li Shi was busy with governmental affairs, he had complained. Now that it was his turn, he finally had nothing to say.
But just as the board was set up, Qi Lin arrived, naturally with Qu Ling’er beside him.
Qi Lin came to take his leave, saying he wanted to return to the northern desert.
Li Shi kept his eyes on the board as he placed a stone on the upper right star point: “You’re no longer a person of my Xingqing Palace. Where you go need not be reported to me.”
Qi Lin’s brow furrowed slightly: “Master…”
Su Cen placed a stone close to Li Shi’s and smiled: “The Prince means you’re now free and can go wherever you wish. You needn’t request permission for everything.”
Only then did Qi Lin’s heart ease. He clasped his sword and bowed solemnly before straightening up.
Su Cen became interested, holding a white stone between his fingers as he looked at the two and asked: “What are you going to the northern desert to do?”
Qu Ling’er said excitedly: “Brother Qi says he’s taking me to see the stars in the northern desert.”
Su Cen smiled meaningfully: “To see the stars.”
Three thousand li of yellow sand in the northern desert—he didn’t believe Qi Lin would travel so far just to show Qu Ling’er the stars. Qi Lin was ultimately Turkic, and the Turks were mostly nomadic, following water and grass, with a special obsession with water. Legend had it that if a couple drank river water together on their wedding day, they formed a pact for this life and the next, destined to be husband and wife through all lifetimes.
His Ling’er had ultimately been lured into the wolf’s den and couldn’t escape.
As the two were about to leave, Su Cen suddenly remembered yesterday’s question and looked at Qi Lin with obvious mischief: “Instructor Qi, why is your surname Qi?”
Seeing Qi Lin visibly stiffen, Su Cen turned to Li Shi and asked: “Why is Qi Lin surnamed Qi?”
Li Shi raised an eyebrow. Seeing Su Cen place a stone that blocked his own escape route, ruining a perfectly good position, his mood brightened and he said: “Qi Lin wasn’t originally called ‘Qi Lin,’ but rather—’Qilin’ (Kirin/Unicorn).”
Li Shi dipped his finger in water and wrote the characters for “qilin” on the table.
“Master…” Qi Lin looked at Li Shi with some difficulty, wanting to speak but stopping.
“Oh? The qilin is an ancient divine beast, said to have the power to reach heaven and earth, with a dragon’s head, deer’s body, ox tail, and horse hooves—very majestic.” Su Cen raised an eyebrow and voluntarily sacrificed two more stones. “Then why did it change to ‘Qi Lin’?”
Like King Zhou bewitched by Daji, he finally decided to betray his confidant for a beauty’s smile: “Later, a small southern country paid tribute with a qilin. It couldn’t reach heaven or burrow underground—it just stretched its neck long and specialized in eating leaves from the imperial garden trees…”
Qi Lin finally couldn’t stay any longer. He clasped his hands to Li Shi, said “Master, I’ll leave first,” and pulled Qu Ling’er away.
All along the way, Qu Ling’er kept asking: “What does a qilin really look like?” “Does it have a dragon’s head?” “Can it breathe fire?”
Su Cen watched as Qi Lin’s retreating figure gradually stiffened, immediately feeling much better and no longer caring about him poaching from his side.
But the game ultimately went unfinished. With the two gone, Su Cen’s mind wasn’t on chess anymore. After several frequent mistakes, the entire board was dead water that even the immortals couldn’t revive.
Seeing his lackluster interest, Li Shi also stopped, collecting the stones while asking: “What are you thinking about?”
Su Cen leaned on the railing, looking at the spring scenery of the full Dragon Pool. His fingertip traced the water surface, causing several fish to follow his movement. He sighed: “I’ve never seen the stars of the northern desert either.”
So this person was jealous of Qu Ling’er.
Li Shi stopped collecting stones and stepped forward to pull him up: “Let’s go.”
Su Cen was startled by the pulling: “Where to?”
Li Shi pulled him forward with large strides, not looking back: “To the northern desert, to see the stars.”
Su Cen nearly stumbled from being pulled: “What about the Turks? What about the marriage alliance? What about the young emperor?”
“Whoever’s job it is can handle it themselves.” Li Shi finally stopped and turned back to look at Su Cen: “Those four months I owe you—I want to repay them now. The offer won’t wait.”
***
*Author’s Note: In case some don’t know, during the Ming Dynasty’s Yongle period, Bengal paid tribute to the Ming court with a qilin divine beast, which was actually… a giraffe[mfn]In 1414, during the Yongle period of the Ming Dynasty (1402-1424), Bengal sent tribute to the Chinese emperor that included a giraffe. This giraffe had an interesting journey – it originally came from the African coastal city-state of Malindi (in present-day Kenya) and was first given as tribute to the Sultan of Bengal, who then re-gifted it to the Chinese.
The Chinese court interpreted this exotic animal as a qilin (麒麟), a mythical creature from Chinese mythology often called the “Chinese unicorn”. The qilin was one of four sacred mythical beasts in Confucian tradition (along with the dragon, phoenix, and turtle) and was considered an auspicious sign representing wisdom, benevolence, and the presence of a sage ruler.
While traditional qilin were depicted as dragon-like creatures with deer bodies, the giraffe actually matched several key characteristics:
Skin-covered horns (qilin supposedly had one horn, giraffes have two)
A deer-like body with cloven hooves
A brightly colored, patterned coat
Gwntle, peaceful nature
This identification served important political purposes for Emperor Yongle, who had seized power from his nephew in a civil war and may have felt his legitimacy was questionable. Possessing a mythical qilin helped reinforce his claim to the throne as a divinely blessed ruler.
The emperor commissioned court artist Shen Du to paint the giraffe, and the resulting artwork deliberately emphasized the qilin connection through artistic style and accompanying poetry, transforming the giraffe’s spots into fish-scale patterns characteristic of qilin depictions.[/mfn].*
Other Translations
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