Li Zhi's Private Diary
December of the 23rd year of Zhenguan
Today I went to Ganye Temple to offer incense and met an interesting nun.
While the other nuns were chanting scriptures, she was writing and drawing under the plum tree.
Upon closer inspection, the paper was covered with diagrams of canal transport improvements, marked with strange symbols and labeled "PPT".
When she looked up, tears still clung to the corners of her eyes, yet she declared emphatically, "The Guanlong Group needs decentralization."
That look in his eyes was exactly like the way his father looked at the twenty-four meritorious officials of Lingyan Pavilion back then.
(This woman, I've decided to have.)
Spring of the first year of Yonghui
Today, Mei Niang has sent over a new proposal, this time concerning the reform of the imperial examination system.
She said she wanted to "break the monopoly of aristocratic families," and those words struck a chord with me.
Watching her speak so eloquently, I suddenly recalled how she panicked and stuffed the whole pastry into her mouth when I caught her sneaking a snack yesterday.
She's so adorable, I can't help but want to tease her.
(Perhaps we should have the Imperial Kitchen prepare more dim sum?)
Winter of the second year of Xianqing
When she was delirious from illness, I could always hear her crying.
This silly girl actually traded ten years of her lifespan for my health and well-being.
I need to recover quickly; I haven't yet taken her to see all the sights of the Tang Dynasty.
Today she added honey to my medicine again, thinking I didn't know.
Actually, I'm no longer afraid of hardship, but seeing her sneaking around like that is really amusing.
(Let her think I'm afraid of hardship.)
Autumn of the fifth year of Xianqing
Mei Niang carried Taiping to the Imperial Study, and the little maid grabbed the Emperor's jade seal.
Her mother was so anxious that she wanted to kneel down and beg for forgiveness, but I laughed loudly—this empire originally belonged to them, mother and daughter.
Taiping looks just like her mother, especially her bright eyes.
He's so mischievous; yesterday he even tied Di Renjie's beard to the back of a chair.
(Like her mother, she always evokes a mixture of love and helplessness.)
day, month, year, day
Today, the reign title was changed to "Sun and Moon," shocking all the officials.
They don't understand that the words "sun and moon" represent a promise I owe to Meiniang.
Back then at Ganye Temple, she said she wanted to be my "partner".
Now I will give her half of the imperial seal and change the reign title to our names.
Cheng Wuting said this was against etiquette, to which I replied, "I am etiquette."
(Meiniang, is this prosperous era as you wished?)
Tonight
Meiniang stayed up all night reviewing memorials again. When I went to urge her to rest, I was pulled aside to discuss the new policies for the Grand Canal. As we talked, she fell asleep on my shoulder.
The candlelight illuminated her profile, and she still vaguely resembled the tearful girl under the plum tree at Ganye Temple.
I gently took the vermilion pen from her hand, just like when I received that astonishing PowerPoint presentation from her back then.
(The luckiest thing in my life was not ascending the throne, but that afternoon when I walked into the plum grove of Ganye Temple.)
——
According to Princess Taiping, she once found a box of handwritten notes in her father's study, which contained detailed records of her interactions with her mother.
The most touching part is the last page:
"If there is an afterlife, I wish to be a commoner, and still meet you under the plum tree. Then there will be no memorials, no court politics, only you looking at me, and me looking at you, from youth to old age."
Indeed, the deepest affection is hidden in the most unintentional details.
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