Chapter 100 The Last Words of Brothers, Embers and Lingering Resentment
The autumn scenery outside Chang'an was even more desolate than inside the city. An inconspicuous royal villa, heavily guarded (in reality isolated), became the final prison and tomb of Prince Wei, Li Tai.
On the surface, Li Tai had already "died suddenly from illness" in a secluded room in the Imperial Clan Court. After a low-key and proper funeral, the Wei Prince's lineage faded from the center of power, leaving behind only a cold verdict of being stripped of real power and barred from holding office for three generations. Throughout the court and the public, there were sighs, vigilance, and secret applause, but soon everyone's attention was drawn to the series of thunderous actions launched by the emperor and the crown prince to "rectify officialdom" and "investigate long-standing malpractices," and no one delved into the true cause of death of a disgraced prince.
Only a very few people knew that the "dead" Li Tai had been secretly moved to a secluded courtyard deep within this royal villa. There were no shackles, no instruments of torture; even his daily life remained that of a prince. However, the courtyard walls were high, the guards were tight, and all those serving him were mute or deaf servants. He could no longer hear any news from the outside world, nor could he communicate with anyone. This was a magnificent tomb for the living dead.
Li Chengqian kept his promise to his mother and did not kill his younger brother with his own hands. But what he gave Li Tai was a punishment more cruel than death—endless imprisonment, eternal loneliness, and the daily, conscious torment after learning all the consequences of his actions (including the death of his queen, the demotion of his children to commoners and exile to distant lands, and the complete eradication of his maternal clan's power).
When Li Chengqian stepped into this eerily quiet courtyard alone on a dark evening, he saw a Li Tai he could hardly recognize.
The once handsome, spirited, and even somewhat arrogant Prince Wei now sat huddled on a stone bench in the courtyard, dressed in a worn-out plain robe, his hair disheveled and his temples streaked with gray. His back to the gate, he gazed at the last rays of the setting sun, his back hunched, like that of an old man nearing his end. Though only a few years younger than Li Chengqian, he now appeared to be more than ten years his senior.
Hearing footsteps, Li Tai slowly turned his head. There was no resentment, no madness, and not even any obvious emotion on his face, only a stagnant numbness and an indelible ashes mixed with regret and despair deep in his eyes.
Li Chengqian waved away the guards who had been following him at a distance, walked to the stone table, and sat down in silence. Between the two brothers was a cold stone table, but also several lives lost and endless scheming and harm.
After a long silence, Li Tai spoke first, his voice hoarse and dry, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time: "You've come." Not "Crown Prince Brother," nor "Elder Brother," just a simple "you."
"Hmm," Li Chengqian responded, his gaze falling on the rough texture of the stone table. "I came to see you."
"Look at me?" Li Tai tugged at the corners of his mouth, revealing a smile that was more like a grimace. "Look at me now, looking like neither human nor ghost? Look at me... are you regretting it?"
Li Chengqian did not answer the question, but instead asked, "What is still missing here?"
"What was she missing?" Li Tai repeated in a low voice, a blank look flashing across his eyes. "What she was missing... doesn't matter anymore." He paused, then suddenly asked, "Was she in pain when she passed away?"
Li Chengqian knew he was asking about the Princess Consort of Wei. This princess consort, born into a prestigious family, upon learning of her husband's crimes and fate, chose to gracefully drink the poisoned wine bestowed by the emperor, preserving the last shred of dignity for her family and sparing Li Tai the pain of witnessing his wife and children being humiliated.
“…Soon.” Li Chengqian replied briefly.
Li Tai closed his eyes, his body trembling almost imperceptibly. When he opened them again, the ashes in his eyes seemed even thicker. "The children..."
"Exiled to Lingnan... Father has shown them extraordinary mercy, allowing them to retain their commoner status. The local government will take care of them, and they will have no worries about food and clothing," Li Chengqian said. This was indeed something he had asked of his father, and in a way, it was also another way of fulfilling his mother's vow—to ensure that his brothers' and sisters' children would have no worries about food and clothing for the rest of their lives.
"No worries about food and clothing... Ah, no worries about food and clothing." Li Tai murmured, tears finally sliding down his dry cheeks, mingling with the dust on his face. "It's me... I'm the one who ruined them, ruined her..."
Seeing his younger brother's tears, Li Chengqian felt no pleasure, only a heavy, complex weariness. He suddenly remembered when they were very young, Li Tai following behind him, babbling "Brother," tugging at his clothes, wanting to go to the Imperial Garden to catch butterflies; he remembered their childhood, listening to the great Confucian scholars lecture at the Hongwen Hall, Li Tai always able to recite the difficult passages faster, and when praised by their father, he would secretly wink at him smugly; he remembered the scene of the family sitting around the table, enjoying meals together when their mother was alive…
Those tender moments, long since blurred by the smoke of power struggles, now inopportunely surge into my mind.
“If… there weren’t that position,” Li Chengqian suddenly spoke, his voice a little hoarse, “would we… still be good brothers?”
Li Tai paused, looking at his elder brother. The numbness in his eyes seemed to crack open at the question, revealing a similarly weary emotion hidden deep within. "Perhaps..." he murmured, his gaze passing over Li Chengqian as if looking towards the distant past, "Mother... most wanted to see us brothers in harmony... but I... I disappointed Mother..."
Both women's expressions darkened at the mention of their mother. That gentle and virtuous woman, who tried to maintain brotherly bonds with maternal love, ultimately had her wishes crushed by the lust for power and hatred.
“Xiang’er… when he was little, he looked a lot like you.” Li Tai suddenly said out of the blue, his eyes filled with pure, unadulterated memories and pain. “Clever, active, his eyes sparkled when he smiled. The first time I met him, he called me ‘Uncle Wang’ and showed me his new rocking horse… I…”
He couldn't go on. He covered his face, his shoulders heaving violently, and suppressed, bestial sobs escaped from between his fingers. It wasn't acting, it wasn't scheming; it was the most real and desperate breakdown of an uncle who had committed an unforgivable crime, recalling the innocent nephew he had killed with his own hands.
Li Chengqian's nails dug deeply into his palms. Watching his younger brother weep, something seemed to shatter and melt in the corner of his heart that had been frozen by hatred, only to be covered by an even heavier pain. He could not forgive, he could never forgive.
That night, the two brothers spoke at length in that small courtyard. They set aside the concepts of succession, hatred, and even the roles of ruler and subject, father and son; they were simply two weary souls, pushed to the brink by fate and their own choices, engaging in a final, fragmented conversation in the silence of apocalyptic judgment. They reminisced about their childhood, talked about their mother, and even discussed trivial poems and songs, as if trying to grasp at the last vestiges of warmth in the cold cracks of reality.
Only when night had completely swallowed the daylight did Li Chengqian get up to leave. He didn't say "take care," nor did he make any promises for the future. As he turned away, he simply said, "Living... perhaps I'll see my children again one day."
Li Tai did not respond, but remained seated in the darkness, as if he had turned into a stone statue.
Three days after Li Chengqian's departure, at dawn, the mute servant responsible for delivering meals discovered that Prince Wei, Li Tai, had hanged himself in his bedroom. He left no suicide note, and the scene was as clean as his last moments, ending quietly.
When the news reached the Eastern Palace, Li Chengqian was reviewing a report on the land survey of the Li family in Longxi. His vermilion brush paused for a moment, spreading a small, glaring red blot on the paper, before he continued writing his comments smoothly, as if he had only heard about a trivial matter.
However, after the eunuch withdrew, he faced the empty study alone and suddenly swept the report in his hand, along with the pen holder, to the ground! Paper scraps flew and ink splattered everywhere.
"You bastard!" he hissed, his chest heaving. "Who told you to die! Who gave you permission to die!"
He was furious at Li Tai's incompetence and cowardice! He had spared his life, withstood immense pressure, and even defied some laws and court opinions, all in the hope that when he truly came to power, time would have passed, and perhaps... perhaps he could give Li Tai a glimmer of hope, at least allowing him to live and see his children? Yet Li Tai had chosen death! In this seemingly "atonement" manner, he had escaped a long life of imprisonment and the torment of his conscience, and also... escaped the complex, unspeakable, and perhaps even unacknowledged... reluctance that his elder brother felt in the end?
What kind of atonement is this? Does death solve everything? Who will pay for the lives of Li Xiang and those three frail princes? To whom can Li Chengqian vent his pain and hatred?
Li Chengqian slumped back into his chair, covering his face with his hands. After the anger subsided, a deeper, more overwhelming emptiness and weariness washed over him. Li Tai was dead. His younger brother, with whom he had fought for half his life and whom he had ultimately sent to his doom, was truly dead. Not killed by him, but killed because of him.
And what about his father? When Li Shimin heard the news of Li Tai's "real" death, he simply sat quietly in his study for a long time. This emperor, who had established the Zhenguan era with his iron-fisted rule, at that moment, perhaps no longer saw the sinister and arrogant rebellious son who tried to murder his elder brother's offspring, but rather the innocent child from many years ago who had knelt on his lap, recited the Thousand Character Classic in a childish voice, and smiled broadly after receiving his praise.
When a person dies, it's like a lamp going out. The mistakes made in life are often tinged with sadness in the eyes of loved ones through the filter of time. The ruthlessness and weighing of options in Li Shimin's heart gradually faded, leaving only a trace of a father's belated, yet ultimately powerless, sorrow.
With his death, Li Tai drew a hasty and somber conclusion to his place in the history of the Li Tang imperial family. He was freed, but left his living father and brother with even more complex emotions.
For Li Chengqian, Li Tai's death did not bring the satisfaction of revenge; instead, it was like a thorn, piercing even deeper into his heart. He eliminated his political enemies, avenged his nemesis, and even used this opportunity to severely damage the powerful clans. But the eldest son he lost, the broken brotherly bond, and the human emotions deep within his heart, gradually eroded by power and hatred, could never be recovered.
The embers are still warm, but the lingering resentment is hard to dispel.
The autumn chill in Chang'an seemed to seep into one's very soul at this moment. The game of power continued, but some things had changed forever. Li Chengqian wiped the cold dampness that had somehow slipped down his face, his eyes hardening once more. He rose, walked to the window, and gazed at the majestic palace.
The road ahead is still long. Li Tai is dead, but the threat from powerful families remains, the court intrigues continue, and that supreme position still requires him to exchange and consolidate it with more blood, scheming, and... loneliness.
The final cries of brotherhood will eventually be drowned out by a grander narrative of power. And he, Li Chengqian, the crown prince of the Tang Dynasty, will bear all of this alone and continue on his journey.
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