Chapter 36: A Modern Woman's Devastating Impact on Li Shimin's Harem
Although Empress Zhangsun survived, the doctor's orders were strict: she must rest and avoid any mental or physical exertion. The vast harem still required someone to manage its daily affairs. After discussing with Empress Zhangsun, Li Shimin did not choose a single person, but instead opted for a system of checks and balances. He appointed three concubines known for their gentle nature, basic literacy, and excellent upbringing to jointly manage the affairs of the six palaces. These three women also left some traces in history: Xu Hui (Consort Xu Xian), renowned for her intelligence and literary talent; Consort Yan De, from the former Sui imperial family, known for her dignified and cautious nature; and Consort Zheng, also from a prominent family, known for her prudent conduct.
This arrangement is quite ingenious. The three women have different backgrounds, personalities, and even family influence, which helps to check and balance each other, making it difficult for a new power center to form. This also ensures that palace affairs are basically well-organized, and their good reputations prevent them from attracting too much controversy.
Because Wang Yi needed to regularly "diagnose and treat" Empress Zhangsun (in reality, to monitor her health and ensure she remained in a "weak but stable" state), he visited the Lizheng Palace more frequently. Naturally, this gave him opportunities to meet with the three concubines who assisted in managing palace affairs.
Upon their first encounter in the side hall of the Lizheng Hall, the three concubines' attitude towards Wang Yi was complex and cautious. They had already heard of the many miracles and imperial favor bestowed upon this "Guardian of the Nation," and knew that she had just rescued the Empress, thus holding a special position. Their greetings were polite yet inquisitive.
Xu Hui, being the youngest, was also the most curious. During conversation, she would occasionally probe with questions about her "overseas experiences" or health regimens, her eyes bright and clear, truly living up to her reputation for intelligence. Consort Yan, on the other hand, appeared more composed, speaking little but with keen observation and impeccable manners. Consort Zheng, meanwhile, exuded the sophistication of a noblewoman, speaking gently and skillfully harmonizing the atmosphere.
After several encounters, these women, who were considered outstanding in the harem, gradually felt an indescribable...confusion, and even a subtle shock.
They were all intelligent women; otherwise, they wouldn't have been able to establish themselves in Li Shimin's harem, let alone be entrusted with the responsibility of assisting him. They were more or less aware of Li Shimin's "intellectual" tendencies. The emperor appreciated women who were talented, knew how to navigate social situations, and could engage in some intellectual exchange with him. Their "intelligence" was indeed directed in this direction: honing their skills (poetry, music, calligraphy), understanding the emperor's intentions, managing palace servants, balancing relationships, and protecting their family's interests—all revolving around how to better "serve" the emperor, consolidate their own positions, and secure a future for their descendants. Their wisdom was the ultimate optimization within the framework of male power and court rules; it was the refined caged bird's mastery of the rules of survival.
But Wang Yi gave them a completely different feeling.
She would also discuss health preservation, the solar terms, and even occasionally mention an ancient book with them, often offering novel and unique insights. But the feeling wasn't like she was "displaying her talents to please the emperor," but rather like a learned person sharing knowledge on an equal footing. Her attitude was respectful and polite, yet carried a natural detachment and tranquility, as if the difference in their status (concubines and immortals, or rather, the emperor's women and recluses) had no real meaning in her eyes.
What truly chilled them was Wang Yi's independent spirit, devoid of any sense of dependence. It wasn't feigned aloofness, but a deep-seated conviction that her existence wasn't defined by anyone else. Her concern for Empress Zhangsun's illness stemmed from a contractual responsibility and her own strategic needs, not from the reverence or flattery of other concubines for the Empress. Everyone knew of the Emperor's great favor towards her, yet she displayed none of the smugness, unease, or anxiety that often arise from such favor. It was as if the Emperor's affection was merely an added bonus, not a necessity for her survival.
This kind of independence was something they had never imagined, much less attained. Everything they had—honor and disgrace, wealth and status, even life and death—was tied to the emperor's whim, to the rise and fall of their families, to the vast, intricate cage of the harem. They had long since learned to dance within the rules, regarding it as wisdom and the way to survive. But Wang Yi seemed to stand outside the cage, calmly observing everything within. She adhered to some necessary, superficial rules, but her soul was never truly imprisoned within.
They naturally couldn't comprehend Wang Yi's deeply ingrained concept of equality. In Wang Yi's eyes, while Li Shimin was undoubtedly a great emperor of all time, possessing immense power, he was, first and foremost, a "human being"—an individual with complex human nature, exceptional abilities, but also limited by the times. His power stemmed from a multitude of factors, including historical processes, military groups, and social structures; he wasn't inherently divine. This was no different from a sweeping eunuch in essence, the only difference being the role society assigned him and the resources he controlled.
This perspective allowed her to shed the deep-seated awe and fear that most ancient people held for imperial power when facing Li Shimin. She could appreciate his great talent and ambition, and also calmly analyze his character weaknesses; she could enjoy his favor, but would never lose herself because of it, nor place her entire value on it. She cooperated because it was profitable (genes, resources, historical experience); she refused because it crossed her bottom line or did not conform to her plans. The emperor's status could bring her convenience or danger, but it could not fundamentally distort her will.
She even possessed a detached, insightful observation: even the most powerful emperor's power was built upon the obedience and labor of countless "ordinary people." If public resentment truly boiled over and a "vast ocean of people's war" erupted, any individual, regardless of their wealth or power, could be swallowed up. This understanding led her to view imperial power with less reverence and more cautious use of it.
Xu Hui, Consort Yan, and others keenly perceived this "dimensional difference" in Wang Yi. It was a quality they couldn't fully comprehend, yet it subtly aweeded them and even... a touch of longing. They saw another possibility for female existence—independence, fearlessness, spiritual independence, and even the ability to engage in a near-equal intellectual dialogue with the emperor. This inevitably evoked complex feelings in them when they compared it to their own circumstances.
But despite their yearning, they knew they could never become like that. Their birth, upbringing, the era they lived in, and the court environment had already shaped them into who they were. Their wisdom was for thriving within the established rules, while Wang Yi's wisdom seemed to be partly used to transcend or even disregard certain rules. These were two completely different dimensions of "intelligence," separated by a millennium-long intellectual chasm and a chasm of gender stereotypes.
They finally understood why His Majesty treated Wang Yi so differently. The harem was filled with countless beauties—some beautiful, some gentle, some talented—but a woman like Wang Yi, who could bring him a constant intellectual freshness and challenge, and who possessed such an independent and untamed spirit, was perhaps unique. What His Majesty gained from her was not merely companionship, but a spiritual stimulation and resonance, a special kind of companionship that broke through the loneliness of imperial life. This attraction was something no concubine, skilled in "service-oriented wisdom," could replicate.
Thus, in Wang Yi's presence, these historically renowned "virtuous consorts," aside from maintaining outward politeness and due courtesy, all kept a subtle distance and silently observed her. They knew that this woman was not like them; they couldn't understand or enter her world. As for their world, Wang Yi might understand it, but he might not truly care.
Under the coordination of the three concubines, the harem maintained stability, with Empress Zhangsun continuing her life and symbolic significance while recuperating. Wang Yi, meanwhile, continued to navigate between her concern for the Lizheng Hall and her schemes at Qixia Garden, calmly advancing her plans. Her interactions with these concubines were like ripples on water, quickly dissipating, yet allowing each to see more clearly their own position and the boundaries of their world. The Zhenguan harem, due to Empress Zhangsun's frailty, presented a new power structure, and the presence of Wang Yi, this "anomaly," allowed some intelligent women within it to glimpse, in their bewilderment, a completely different glimmer of light belonging to independent souls.
Dusk filtered through the delicate window lattices, casting a warm golden veil over the East Warm Pavilion of the Liangyi Hall. Li Shimin, having just finished reviewing a stack of memorials detailing the civil service examinations, rubbed his temples wearily. Consort Xu (Xu Hui) stood by, offering him a cup of perfectly warm ginseng tea. She had recently been assisting with palace affairs, handling matters fairly and clearly, providing insightful reports on even minor issues, which made Li Shimin feel much more at ease. Furthermore, her youth, talent, and innocent nature made her, besides Empress Zhangsun, one of the few women in the harem who could make him feel relaxed and willing to converse.
He took the teacup, his gaze falling on Xu Hui's serene and beautiful profile. He suddenly spoke, his tone casual yet carrying a hint of barely perceptible inquiry: "Hui'er, you've been in quite a bit of contact with Master Wang of Qixia Garden lately. In your opinion, what kind of person is she?"
Xu Hui's heart skipped a beat. This question, seemingly casual, was actually extremely weighty. She hesitated briefly, neither rushing to flatter nor belittle, but instead speaking slowly and objectively:
"Your Majesty, the Lady Wang... is indeed no ordinary woman. In my humble opinion, she has three unusual qualities."
"Oh? What are the three differences?" Li Shimin took a sip of tea, his gaze falling on the rising steam.
"Firstly, she is different in her wisdom. Not merely in the knowledge of poetry and literature, but also in her insightful understanding and ability to perceive people's hearts. Conversing with her, one often feels her broad vision and the depth and wonder of her thoughts, quite unlike those of women confined to their chambers. Secondly, she is different in her tranquility. Not the tranquility of being dull and taciturn, but a kind of... composure that remains undisturbed by storms and unmoved by favor or disgrace. It is as if one is physically present, yet mentally detached, able to observe all things, yet not necessarily fully internalized." Xu Hui paused, her voice becoming even softer, "Thirdly, she is different in her... solitude."
"alone?"
“Yes. A kind of… independence that doesn’t depend on anyone or anything. It’s as if she herself is a complete world; external things are merely icing on the cake, and even if they are taken away, they cannot damage her essence. This kind of ‘independence’ is something I have never seen in the harem.” After Xu Hui finished speaking, she lowered her head and stood quietly, waiting for the emperor’s reaction. Her evaluation was as devoid of personal likes and dislikes as possible, grasping Wang Yi’s most core qualities, and her wording was cautious, pointing out the differences without overstepping any boundaries.
Li Shimin remained silent for a moment, his fingertips gently tracing the warm surface of the cup. Xu Hui's assessment had precisely touched upon his deepest feelings about Wang Yi. That wisdom that transcended his time, that detached independence that seemed capable of leaving at any moment, was precisely what attracted him most, and also what made him most uneasy.
“You’re right.” He spoke slowly, his voice carrying a rare weariness and candor, as if he had shed part of his imperial mask. “That’s just who she is. Unlike everyone else in this palace.”
Xu Hui keenly sensed the emperor's desire to confide in her, and she asked softly, "Since Your Majesty knows that Master Wang is extraordinary, your treatment of her now seems different from before, with less restraint. I am foolish, may I... ask Your Majesty why?" She asked cautiously, adopting an extremely humble posture, as if it were merely out of incomprehension and concern.
Li Shimin glanced at her, his gaze deep and unfathomable, as if looking through her into the distant past and the more hidden corners of his heart. Perhaps it was because of Xu Hui's intelligence and appropriate distance, or perhaps it was because he truly needed someone to sort out his chaotic thoughts, but he actually spoke, his voice low and deep:
“If I don’t openly show her enough favor and protection, there will be a second or third ‘Consort Yang’ in this harem, using all sorts of underhanded means to harm her. Do you think the Yang affair was really a coincidence? It was just that when I neglected her, others thought they had an opportunity to take advantage.” His tone turned cold. “My favoritism is her protective armor. The less I conceal it, the less others dare to touch her. It’s the simplest of principles.”
Xu Hui's heart skipped a beat, and she nodded silently. The emperor's favor is indeed often the most direct form of protection.
Li Shimin paused for a moment, his gaze becoming somewhat distant and complex: "As for myself... perhaps, Wang Yi is like a vessel for something I desire in my heart."
“Carrier?” Xu Hui asked, puzzled.
"Hmm." Li Shimin responded softly, as if sorting out thoughts that he himself might not be entirely clear about. "Sometimes I think, if back then... my father had been like I am to Wang Yi now, truly caring about me and giving me unreserved love and support, even if it would have attracted criticism, even if it would have disrupted some so-called 'balance'... then, would I, Jiancheng, and Yuanji have still reached that point?"
This assumption was too bold; Xu Hui held her breath and dared not respond.
Li Shimin didn't need her answer; it was more like he was talking to himself: "Father... always weighs too many things. He respects Mother (Empress Dou), and may have affection for other concubines, but he has never had... the kind of feelings I have now, knowing it might be inappropriate, yet still insisting on them. He always cares more about the court, about his reputation, about the so-called 'balance.' He is wary of me, and he uses me, but he may not have any real... understanding or support."
A barely perceptible hint of bitterness crept into his voice: "So you see, the way I treat Wang Yi now, perhaps... subconsciously, is because I want to make up for something. I want to give her double the unconditional support, understanding, and even 'willful' favoritism that I longed for from my father back then but never received. I want to see if giving someone such 'special treatment' will really lead to disaster, as he cursed it to be? Or... could it actually create a different kind of destiny?"
He paused, his gaze returning to Xu Hui's face, a hint of self-mockery in his eyes: "It's ridiculous, isn't it? I myself may not fully understand it. But sometimes, when I look at her, it's like looking at another possible 'self'—that 'self' who is not bound by morality, dares to pursue what she desires, and can receive full support. I love her, perhaps... also because I love that projection deep within my heart that I have not been able to fully realize."
These words almost nakedly reveal the complex emotions behind Li Shimin's favoritism towards Wang Yi, a mixture of protectiveness, a desire for compensation, a struggle against the shadow of his father, and even self-projection. This has long transcended simple romantic love, rising to the level of individual life experience, father-son relationship, and the entanglement of power and emotion.
Xu Hui's heart churned with turmoil, but she struggled to maintain a calm facade. She finally understood why His Majesty treated Wang Yi so differently. It wasn't just because of Wang Yi's uniqueness, but also because Wang Yi had become the "vessel" through which His Majesty vented his complex emotions, compensated for the shortcomings in his life, and even conducted some kind of secret psychological experiment. This emotion was profound, complex, and imbued with the domineering and obsessive nature unique to emperors, something that could never be compared to the ordinary power struggles within the harem.
"Your Majesty..." she could only say softly in the end, "True feelings are rare. It is Wang Zhenren's good fortune to be treated so well by Your Majesty." These words were ambiguous, both a consolation and an implication of the uncertainty about the future of this special relationship.
Li Shimin said nothing more, only gazing at the deepening twilight outside the window, his eyes deep and thoughtful. He had voiced a part of his hidden thoughts, feeling somewhat relieved, yet also realizing more clearly that his obsession with Wang Yi was probably deeper and more complex than he had imagined. It wasn't just love for a woman; it was using that love to heal certain wounds from his past, to affirm his current "freedom" as emperor, and even… to challenge some kind of fated curse.
Xu Hui quietly withdrew, a sense of awe and distance growing within her towards the one at Qixia Garden. She knew she could never be involved in such an emotional vortex. It was not merely a clash between two extraordinary souls, but the eye of a storm within an emperor's inner world. All she could do was observe from afar, fulfilling her duty of assisting with palace affairs, finding her own peaceful haven within this delicate balance. As for how His Majesty and Master Wang's story would continue, that was beyond her comprehension and involvement.
Xu Hui's figure disappeared outside the palace gates, taking with her the brief catharsis brought by her almost candid outpouring. Silence returned to the Liangyi Hall, leaving only the twilight and lingering fragrance. Li Shimin sat alone behind his desk, the words he had spoken to Xu Hui seemingly echoing, resonating and stirring within the emptiness of his heart.
He admitted that his feelings for Wang Yi were far more complex and chaotic than he had revealed to Xu Hui, like a tangled mess of threads, some of which he could unravel, while others remained buried deep in his heart, something even he himself could not describe.
What was most intense, and what perplexed him most, was the burning desire for conquest. He had conquered countless enemies, vast territories, and the hearts of the people in the court. But for Wang Yi, this sense of conquest was entirely different. It did not point to the expansion of territory or the consolidation of power, nor even to the complete possession of his body—those things he had already obtained or could easily obtain.
What he longed to conquer seemed to be her eternally serene core, the occasional glint of transcendence in her eyes that seemed to look down upon all living beings, and the independence deep within her soul that could not be completely bound by any power, wealth, or even emotion. He wanted to see that calm, icy shell melt for him, to confirm that he occupied an equally unique and irreplaceable position in her unique spiritual world. He wanted her to be like the other women in the harem, to have her joys and sorrows, her life and fortune, all tied to him, yet he also harbored a hidden fear: if that were the case, would she lose the radiance that most attracted him?
What is the standard for this conquest? Is it that she will finally say "I can't live without you"? Or is it that she can bear him children and establish a deeper blood bond? Or perhaps... she finally gives up that confidence that she can leave at any time and truly "belongs" her body and soul to this era and to him, Li Shimin?
He didn't know. It was like a journey without a clear end, filling him with fighting spirit at times and a deep sense of powerlessness and confusion at others. Perhaps conquering her was itself an ongoing process, a unique and enduring "war" about the soul in his imperial career.
My thoughts inevitably drifted to the child I had never met, the child I had lost. Even after so much time, the sharp pain still pierced my heart unexpectedly. If only he had protected him better, if only he had discovered those conspiracies sooner, if only… would that child already be babbling and playing at his knees? Would it have been a boy or a girl? Would he have inherited Wang Yi's intelligence and heroic spirit? This regret, like a hidden wound in my heart that never heals, would throb faintly in the quiet of the night or when I saw other princes and princesses.
But another completely opposite emotion would sometimes emerge inexplicably—a secret, even somewhat cold, sense of "fortunateness."
He was thankful that because Wang Yi had "lost" that child and was deemed "infertile," the extraordinary and undisguised favor he was bestowing upon her hadn't immediately triggered a devastating tsunami in the court and harem. Imagine, if she were healthy and capable of bearing children, given his current affection and devotion, what kind of exclusive favor would she receive? What kind of political turmoil, harem infighting, and potential succession struggles would the birth of a prince have caused? How would powerful ministers like Changsun Wuji react? Would Crown Prince Chengqian's position be challenged? What kind of upheavals would those aristocratic families and upright officials have stirred up?
Sometimes, he even felt that it was the "loss" of that child and Wang Yi's "infertility" that, to some extent, built a seemingly fragile but actually crucial safety buffer for the shocking relationship between him and her. This allowed his love to flow freely within this buffer in a relatively "safe" manner, without having to immediately face the most brutal political and ethical reckoning.
This feeling of "fortunateness" made him feel self-loathing, yet it was undeniably real. It was a distorted product of the intense conflict between imperial thinking and personal emotions. It was both a helpless compromise with reality and a selfish psychological defense.
Just as he was immersed in these complex and unspeakable thoughts, even somewhat self-torturing, he heard Wang De's hurried footsteps outside the hall, which he tried to keep low but could not hide.
“Your Majesty…” Wang De’s voice rang out from outside the door, trembling slightly. “Urgent report from Da’an Palace… The Emperor Emeritus… is critically ill.”
The words "critically ill" struck Li Shimin's turbulent mind like two heavy hammer blows, instantly creating a thousand waves that quickly froze into ice.
All the entanglements, regrets, relief, and desire for conquest... came to an abrupt end at this moment.
Li Yuan. His blood father, political rival, and emotional enemy, was also a major source of all his inner struggles and external pressures. The old man who cursed him with the most vicious words and indirectly contributed to his change of attitude towards Wang Yi.
Is he finally... also reaching the end?
Li Shimin sat there, motionless. Dusk had completely swallowed the last rays of light, plunging the hall into darkness. His face was hidden in shadow, his expression unreadable. There was no immediate grief, nor the expected relief. Only a sudden, vast emptiness, and beneath that emptiness, an even more turbulent undercurrent—was it lingering resentment? Unresolved regret? The relief of finally shedding a heavy burden? Or… the last instinctive pull of blood ties?
Li Yuan's critical illness was like a dull bell tolling from the past, reminding him of his inescapable past and foreshadowing the imminent end of some things, while others might usher in new changes.
His complex and indescribable feelings for Wang Yi seemed to be temporarily diluted and pushed into a corner of his heart by this sudden news. Before him, he needed to face another reality: another person whose fate was deeply intertwined with his was approaching the end of his life.
"Prepare the carriage." After a long silence, Li Shimin finally spoke, his voice calm and undisturbed, yet heavier than any roar. "Go to Da'an Palace."
He stood up, brushing away imaginary dust from his robes, as if brushing away the chaotic personal emotions that had just swirled within him. At this moment, he was the emperor, a son about to face the deathbed of his father (and perhaps also his enemy). And Wang Yi in Qixia Garden, and all the love and hate entanglements associated with her, had to temporarily give way to this more fateful and somber farewell.
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