Chapter 5 The Spectator

Li Zhi often felt that his life was like watching a long and thrilling game of chess.

At the start of the game, he was an innocent child, gently kept on the sidelines. His father was the supreme player, the most majestic mountain on the board; his mother was the warmest stream beside the mountain, gently nourishing them, the young seedlings; his elder brother, Chengqian, was the "general," already marked and beginning to shine, the focus of everyone's attention. And he, perhaps, wasn't even a piece, just a child allowed to watch from the sidelines, occasionally patted on the head and rewarded with a piece of cake.

What he saw then was his father's wisdom and might, his mother's kindness and virtue, his elder brother's intelligence and studiousness, and the occasional pressure of being burdened with high expectations. Though the chessboard was turbulent, the overall situation was clear, and the landscape was beautiful. He naively believed that the world should be like this, orderly and full of warmth.

Until his mother fell suddenly like a shooting star. The warm stream dried up, and the chessboard seemed to harden abruptly. For the first time, he felt a bone-chilling cold and helplessness, and for the first time, he vaguely realized that this game of chess might not be as stable as it seemed on the surface. In the depths of his father's grief, there was a melancholy he could not understand; beneath his elder brother's tall back, there was a taut anxiety he could not comprehend.

Then, he was pushed to the edge of the chessboard, and even... one foot was already on the grid line.

His maternal uncle, Changsun Wuji, the elder who had once offered him warmth and protection, began to look at him with a different gaze. That gaze held concern and expectation, but deeper still, it held a cold scrutiny and assessment that Li Zhi only gradually came to understand. His uncle began to show him different "chess manuals" and explain different "chess principles." Those principles about "benevolence," "preservation," and "balance" sounded so beautiful, so in line with the ways of the sages, no different from what he had learned since childhood. His uncle said that this was the way to long-term stability, the true essence of his father's "Zhenguan" spirit, while his brother's path was far too treacherous.

He was confused. His elder brother's ruthless suppression of aristocratic families and promotion of commoners, his sharp methods, certainly didn't align with his ideal of a gentleman—a man of "gentleness, kindness, respect, frugality, and humility." The "gentler" and "steadier" path his uncle described sounded truly tempting. Moreover, his uncle implied that that path required a prince like himself, "benevolent and filial," to serve as its standard-bearer.

For a fleeting moment, the boy's heart was gently stirred by the feeling of being "needed" and "potentially more important." It was a secret, almost shameful, sense of vanity and excitement. Perhaps, he could be more than just an observer?

But he was, after all, the son of Li Shimin and Changsun Linglong. His bloodline carried not only benevolence but also the still-developing vigilance and wisdom of an emperor. He saw the deep-seated family calculations in his uncle's eyes, and the undisguised self-interest of the powerful families gathered under the banner of "benevolence." He also saw that although his elder brother's methods were ruthless, his policies were genuinely addressing long-standing problems, strengthening the court's control over local areas, and doing what his father had wanted to do but hesitated to.

More importantly, he thought of Li Tai, his second brother, who was once talented and beloved, but ultimately met a tragic end. How did Li Tai slide into the abyss? Wasn't it because he was fed ambition with similar "bait," ultimately becoming a pawn or even a discarded piece?

Fear, like a cold snake, coiled around his nascent heart. He didn't want to become a second Li Tai. He didn't want his mother's spirit in heaven to see him and his brothers drawing their swords against each other again.

So when his brother tore away all pretenses in that cold waterside pavilion, laying bare the bloody truth, Li Tai's fate, and his uncle's possible schemes before him, he was shocked and pained, but also felt a bittersweet relief of "just as I thought."

His elder brother's honesty was like a sharp but necessary scalpel, cutting through the poison disguised in sugar. His father's decree was a timely, warm, and powerful hand, pulling him back from the edge of the chessboard and repositioning him in the safe zone of "devoting himself to study."

He made a choice—a choice that seemed like a retreat, but in reality required immense courage. He withdrew from the risky game that had him at stake. He wrote a letter politely declining his uncle's offer and "imprisoned" himself in the sea of ​​books at the Prince of Jin's residence.

During that time, he truly observed the game as a "spectator," remaining detached and indifferent. He watched how his elder brother meticulously planned and dismantled the alliance of powerful families; how his uncle patiently retaliated, stirring up waves in the court; and how his father maintained the balance calmly, yet revealed his bottom line at crucial moments. He was no longer easily swayed by the words of either side, but instead tried to use his own eyes to analyze the motives, forces, and possible outcomes behind each move.

He gradually realized that his elder brother was not simply a cruel official; the core of his policies lay in consolidating imperial power and strengthening the country's military. Although there were growing pains, the direction was clear. His uncle was not entirely self-serving either; his ideals represented an old order that attempted to maintain a balance of power among various factions. However, this order had become rigid and was fundamentally in conflict with the strengthening of imperial power. This game was essentially a confrontation between the old and new paths and different power structures, and there was no way to reconcile them.

When he finally saw all of this clearly and realized that if the game continued to stalemate, it would inevitably turn into greater turmoil or even bloodshed, a plan so bold that it made his own heart tremble quietly took shape in his mind.

Since he couldn't stay out of it, since this game needed a game-changer, since... he didn't want to see his father worry, his brother suffer, or the country in turmoil, then why not take the initiative to enter the game and become the one who controls the rhythm and guides the direction of the game?

Thus came the memorial advocating "prudent use of punishments and care for the people's livelihood," the illusion that he had "sided" with his uncle again, and the shocking "anti-traitor scheme" he orchestrated with his father at Xuanwu Gate that night.

At that moment, he transformed from an observer into one of the players. He placed himself in the eye of the storm, and he also made the most significant and risky move in this stalemate. He risked his reputation, his safety, and even his potential freedom for the rest of his life.

Fortunately, he won his gamble. His elder brother stabilized the situation, his uncle's faction was wiped out, and the biggest threat was eliminated. He, in turn, returned to his position as "wise king" and "assistant," even more low-key and cautious than before.

After the dust settled, he remained an observer, but his state of mind had changed. He witnessed his elder brother, free from constraints, boldly pushing forward reforms, weakening the influence of aristocratic families to an all-time low, and forging a new dynasty with unprecedented imperial power. He assisted his brother in handling state affairs, acting as a lubricant and buffer between the forceful policies and the remaining resistance. He saw his nephews (his imperial nephews), under the careful guidance of his sister-in-law Wu Zetian, becoming brothers in harmony and displaying outstanding talent, ensuring the empire had a worthy successor.

Sometimes, after finishing official documents alone late at night and rubbing his tired eyes, Li Zhi would wonder what role he had played in his life.

Was he a chess piece? He almost was, but he jumped out on his own.

Was he the one who played the game? On that crucial night at Xuanwu Gate, he was briefly yes, but then he put it down again.

Perhaps, he was always more of a clear-headed "spectator." This spectator understood the danger and key to the game, and when necessary, he didn't hesitate to enter the game himself, moving a crucial piece and changing the course of the entire game. Then, he quietly retreated to the sidelines, watching the game continue along its new trajectory.

He did not regret his choice. Although this path cost him his uncle's affection (perhaps that affection was already mixed with too many other things), burdened him with the potential label of "scheming," and destined him to be unable to indulge in the unrestrained life of an ordinary prince, he preserved his brotherly bond (at least a tacit understanding beneath the surface), assisted his father and brother in completing the transition of the era, and prevented this game concerning the fate of the empire from having the most bloody and tragic ending.

Occasionally, he would recall the legend of "Penglai," long since lost to the dust of history, and the mysterious King Zhenren who took his father away. Perhaps that was a true "game of immortals," a game beyond the reach of common sense, existing outside this grand chess game? In comparison, their human games, no matter how thrilling, ultimately boiled down to the tangible threads of "gain and loss," "advantages and disadvantages," "empire," and "bloodline."

He smiled and blew out the study light.

Outside the window, Chang'an was ablaze with lights, a tapestry of stars. The game of chess, "The Great Tang," continued. He had already fulfilled his mission as both "observer" and "key player." For the rest of his life, he only needed to continue assisting his elder brother, instructing his nephews, and quietly watching this land he loved so deeply move towards an even more prosperous future under new rules.

That's good.