Chapter 108: Selection for Li Yuan

“What ambition? I, Cai Cong, am certainly an ambitious man. In the end, nobles and generals all turn to dust. I must leave behind some mark that will never be erased.”

“We really are petty and base! Don’t blame you for standing aside and watching the farce. But no matter what, this salt must never be controlled by private hands, or I swear I will never relent against you.”

“I told you, I don’t have time to meddle in such trivial matters. If you want to remonstrate, take it to His Majesty.” Cai Cong sneered. Li Shimin was a cunning man who spoke in ambiguous terms only to stir conflict among factions. Expecting him to hand over the salt formula? Not a chance.

These people were blinded by greed and yet could not see the knives lurking behind the mist. By the time they realized, they would already be bleeding all over.

“If we have no common ground, there’s nothing more to say. Farewell!”

“No seeing you out!”

Standing in the corridor, Lady Cai watched Wei Zheng leave and anxiously asked Cai Cong, “Son, I hear he is a righteous official. Treating him this way—won’t it damage your reputation?”

“Really, Mother? We see each other every day, yet you’ve become so formidable and even learned to use idioms,” Cai Cong teased, earning an eye roll from her.

“Don’t change the subject. I’m asking you!”

“Maybe you don’t know—my reputation is already ruined in many places. Only Chang’an and Zhengzhou still regard me somewhat favorably. Others likely see me as a treacherous minister and compose scathing letters against me in sections.”

Cai Cong smiled wryly. Scholars were masters with words; he had offended the literati terribly. Now writers everywhere were defaming him, and there was no stopping it.

“How can this be? Such damage to your name—how will you face anyone in the future? I even hoped to teach you about noble families when you grew up!” Lady Cai was furious; a bad reputation was as grievous as desecrating ancestors’ graves.

“A good official is always hated. If they spoke well of me, that would be strange.”

“But if your name is ruined, what will you do? No, I must petition the Empress Dowager to clear your name.” Lady Cai was near tears, about to rush off, but Cai Cong caught her arm.

“Mother, this isn’t something she can fix. If it were, it would have been done already. As long as I focus on being a good official, over time the people will see who I really am. When that happens, anyone who slanders me will be beaten by the common folk.”

He spoke with gentle persistence until Lady Cai’s tears finally ceased.

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Yet while her tears dried, the heavens’ tears knew no end. Rain fell relentlessly across Guanzhong—heavy one day, light the next—yet the skies never cleared.

In the early years of Zhenguan, Liang Shidu was suppressed into stillness, and local rebellions fizzled out like child's play, crushed before they could begin. Only droughts and floods shattered hearts.

“This rain won’t stop. Cai Cong’s words may come true!” Li Shimin gazed at the stormy sky, neither saddened nor joyful.

“Second Prince has made thorough preparations. If it is heaven’s will, we can only do our best and leave the rest to fate,” Changsun spoke softly from behind him. After July, Li Shimin increasingly sat awake at night in his robe, weighed down by worries.

When Li Yuan, drunk, shouted about divine punishment and called his son a rebel, Li Shimin was tormented beyond words. Afterwards, all who knew were executed, even the historian present that day died in a fall—to prevent Li Yuan’s words from spreading.

“Alas, after I die, I fear I will have no face before my ancestors. I killed my brother, kept my father locked inside the palace, and my clan is always scheming to seize my throne.”

“Second Prince, please do not think so. Even if you had not acted, your elder brother would not have spared our family. You were forced. As for Father, he was simply lost in despair. Loneliness breeds wild thoughts. Perhaps I should arrange for him to choose some beauties; with companions by his side, life won’t be so dull.”

Changsun pondered. Letting Li Yuan indulge in wine and women until his final days might be the best outcome.

“It can only be so. I hope he won’t hate me. I, his son, have no choice. Jiancheng and I have reached a point where coexistence is impossible.”

Li Shimin’s face was bitter. Their rivalry was largely the result of Li Yuan’s political tactics.

Fearing one son would outshine the other and seize the throne, Li Yuan granted Li Jiancheng governing authority, while Li Shimin’s military power and prestige grew. Like two suns rising together, one was destined to fall.

What Li Yuan did not anticipate was that Yuchi Gong would arrive holding his eldest son’s severed head and bloodied weapon, demanding the emperor’s abdication. Li Shimin remained silent—perhaps unsure how to face his father.

Li Yuan overlooked that both sons were exceptional men. Whichever had won at Xuanwu Gate, his own days would be spent in retirement—drinking and womanizing, left only to reminisce.

Li Shimin agreed, and as head of the harem, Changsun wasted no time in organizing a grand selection.

Apart from officials’ daughters aged thirteen to twenty, from reputable families, anyone who believed their daughter had beauty could recommend her to the government.

Some proud families refused to participate, but because their daughters’ reputations spread, officials persistently sought their portraits.

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Don’t think only officials’ families could send daughters to the palace. In fact, families with no blemish for three generations—including farmers and scholars—were eligible to present their daughters.

Cai family village was no exception. Someone tried to register a sixteen-year-old daughter, dressed in finery, and hired a carriage to take her.

By chance, Cai Cong saw this and beat the man with a whip.

He interrogated harshly, “Is this your own daughter? So young, yet you push her into the fire? Today, I’ll whip you to death, you scoundrel!”

“Stop, Marquis, please! How is this a fire? If selected, serving the retired emperor is the greatest honor!”

“Honor? How old is the retired emperor? How old is your daughter? If not a fire, what is it? Honor? I think you mean money! Is the village short of mouths or clothes to wear? Selling your daughter? I’m exhausted. Tang Yi, you take over.”

Cai Cong tossed the whip to Tang Yi, a ruthless young man who always spared no face.

“How is this selling a daughter? If chosen, she’ll live well, with comfort and ease! Marquis, you rise alone and won’t let us have our day!”

Cai Ming said bitterly, feeling the Marquis was blocking his family’s chance for prosperity.

“Sixteen bride, sixty groom; white-haired old man with a red dress. Paired in the mandarin duck bed, pear blossoms overshadowing crabapple trees. What nonsense!”

Cai Cong shook his head and left. At that time, marrying a teenage girl to a sixty-year-old man was common, but as a man from the future, the thought of an old man sharing a bed with a child was horrifying.

Cai Cong walked away, Tang Yi hurried after him. Villagers grimaced, driving the carriage towards Chang’an, unwilling to waste time. Such injuries were nothing compared to the chance to rise.

Cai Ming covered his face in pain, clutching his wounds. Midway he stopped the carriage, chewed some herbs, and applied them to ease the pain.

He looked ridiculous, with herbal residue all over his face and body, green herbal juice dripping from his mouth. He knew how shameful he looked, but comforted himself: once his daughter was selected, who would dare mock him?

To send his daughter to the palace, Cai Ming had spent all the family’s money; otherwise, he couldn’t have even found the entrance to the Imperial Selection Bureau.

When he arrived with his daughter, he found the place teeming with people. Though Li Yuan had lost the throne, he remained the most honored figure in the Tang Empire, and countless families wished to offer their daughters.