Chapter 21: A Conversation by the Weishui River

When Li Shimin took the envelope, the veins on his hands throbbed, murderous intent surged in his eyes, but finally, he drew out the cloth letter calmly and began to read. After finishing, he pressed the envelope on the imperial desk, determined to remind himself constantly of this humiliation. Having fought all his life and become the most esteemed man of the Great Tang, today he was shamed by the enemy as a puppet emperor, and in two days, he would have to personally hand over the state treasury, begging the other side for mercy. Who could bear such disgrace?

The next day, news broke that the illustrious Emperor, for the peace of Chang’an’s people, would meet with the Turks to discuss terms on the banks of the Wei River on August 30th—tomorrow. The news brought both tears and relief among the populace.

Yuchi Gong, stationed with the troops outside the city, wept like a child in confinement upon hearing this. Countless soldiers cut their faces and let their hair hang loose, praying for battle. The civil officials wore grim expressions; they no longer spoke to each other, only nodding at most.

On this day, all the pride of the Great Tang was utterly crushed. Their emperor would humble himself to ensure the people’s safety—when a sovereign is shamed, his ministers must die! It seemed as if everyone had lost the ability to speak; all of Chang’an was as silent as a haunted city. Even the Turks across the river were unsettled and hastily sent spies to investigate.

When they learned that everyone in Chang’an, from officials to commoners, was protesting the emperor’s peace negotiations with silence, Jieli was truly frightened. An entire city prepared to die rather than submit—how long would it take to conquer such a place?

The sun set as usual, but Chang’an grew even quieter—an ominous calm before the storm. Even families sleeping rough on the streets sat in silence; the heads of these households looked at their wives and children, then at the patrolling soldiers, not knowing what to feel. If peace was being made, there would be no more war or death, so why did it feel as if something precious was lost?

That night, as no one could sleep, a squad of five hundred cavalry rode out of the city, vanishing into the boundless night. No one knew where they went.

Time passed. Li Shimin, who had sat in silence all night, finally stood. No one knew what he had been contemplating. The day of Xuanwu Gate had changed the fate of the Li family, but from a historical perspective, today would change the fate of the Great Tang itself.

A mournful army is destined to triumph; shame fuels courage. The men of Guanzhong are full of blood and spirit, never forgetting a grudge. Such a humiliation could only be washed away in blood, sooner or later.

The palace gates swung open. Clad in armor, Li Shimin rode at the forefront, followed closely by Fang Xuanling, Gao Shilian, and others, heading toward the Wei River. As for Zhangsun Wuji and Du Ruhui, they remained to guard Chang’an, in case of unforeseen events, and because Li Shimin feared that if he died, imperial power would fall into another’s hands.

Even a peace negotiation required a show of strength; tens of thousands of troops maneuvered, drums thundered without cease. Jieli watched from across the river, seeing the Tang banners billowing and the army’s morale soaring, full of unyielding determination. Only then did he give up thoughts of a surprise attack.

“Your Majesty, last night that boy Cai Cong slipped out of the city. Though he’s young, he’s ruthless, commanding five hundred cavalry. I fear he might cause trouble at a critical moment,” Li Ji whispered to Li Shimin as they rode side by side. He knew all too well how ruthless Cai Cong could be—just to eliminate hidden dangers, he exposed a major tax case at the perfect time; no matter how powerful the people involved, they couldn’t suppress it, resulting in hundreds dead and thousands exiled.

“The one who left last night was the Imperial Preceptor, not Cai Cong. Remember, the Preceptor commands thirty thousand troops. Even when I speak to him, it’s a discussion, not an order. Have you understood?” Li Shimin’s tone was low and grave, forced to such measures out of desperation. If only he had a year more, perhaps he could have fought back.

“I understand, Your Majesty,” Li Ji replied, eyes narrowing into a smile. So, the emperor and Cai Cong had a plan hidden until now.

“Today, whatever the Imperial Preceptor says or does, even I can only advise, not interfere. Make sure the entire army knows: today, everyone must show him the utmost respect,” Li Shimin said darkly. There was no other choice.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” With that, Li Ji turned his horse to make the arrangements. He heard clearly the “today” in the emperor’s words. For one day, Cai Cong would act with imperial authority—he must have convinced the emperor to allow something momentous.

“What’s going on, Your Majesty? What can five hundred cavalrymen accomplish? If something goes wrong during negotiations, can that Cai boy bear the responsibility?” Yuchi Gong muttered, his voice low, for the emperor’s safety was their utmost concern.

“Enough talk. His Majesty is wise and valiant; he wouldn’t take such a risk without reason. But if anything happens, your first duty is to protect the emperor and get him off the field,” Fang Xuanling said sternly. Now, more than ever, the Great Tang could not afford to lose Li Shimin.

“You underestimate me,” Li Shimin laughed, his back straight as a pillar. “Back in Luoyang, when I led the Black Armored Cavalry to defeat Wang Shichong, the danger was a hundred times what we face today. Did I ever shrink back?” His words roused the spirits of all around him.

“Long live the Great Tang!” someone shouted, and the soldiers echoed in unison, their voices shaking the sky and sweeping away all despair. With such an emperor, who could they fear?

The Turks, however, saw things differently. Jieli sent a squad of cavalry to provoke them at the lines, asking if they wished for battle. Their attitude was arrogant, tone insolent—a bucket of cold water thrown over their heads. Fang Xuanling gripped his sword tightly, then relaxed, hiding his clenched fists in his sleeves as he smiled and explained that the emperor was sincere about peace, and asked the envoy to inform Jieli accordingly.

Watching the laughing Turk envoy depart, everyone present felt their hearts bleed. If only they were stronger—if only they had more time to recover—would they need to bow to foreigners?

At noon, Li Shimin and his entourage met Jieli on the banks of the Wei River, separated by a plank bridge, with both armies not far behind. The so-called meeting was nothing more than shouting across the river; only a few attendants heard the exchanges between Jieli and Li Shimin.

The histories record that Li Shimin loudly rebuked Jieli for breaking the alliance and attacking the Great Tang, leaving Jieli speechless. But in truth, circumstances forced Li Shimin to humble himself, making his nation seem like a mere tributary.

Indeed, this was the reality. At the end of the Sui, when warlords vied for power, most factions had paid tribute to the Turks at some point. Li Shimin’s own father, Li Yuan, had done the same.

“Great Khan Jieli, let it be known: the Great Tang has never failed to send you tribute. Even when the young emperor ascended the throne, his first priority was preparing tribute for you. And yet, your armies still attacked us. Are you not breaking the bonds of friendship between our nations?” Li Shimin called out with genuine emotion, not a trace of reluctance. As people would later say, there is no such thing as saving face between nations.

Across the river, Jieli laughed heartily. He had feared Li Shimin’s youth and rashness, expecting harsh words, but Li Shimin proved surprisingly accommodating.

“So that’s how it is? One of your men—what’s his name—Zhangsun Wuji told me you wanted to stop paying tribute and break the alliance. That’s why I brought my army to ask: will you still submit?” Jieli lied shamelessly. Zhangsun Wuji was Li Shimin’s right arm—if he could drive a wedge between them, all the better.

Hearing this, Li Shimin’s face darkened, and he longed to order his troops across the river for battle. But he could not; he could only take a deep breath and reply with a forced smile, “It must be a misunderstanding. The Great Tang honors its oaths and will not break the alliance.”

“Oh? Then what tribute have you prepared?” Jieli asked, pretending ignorance, watching Li Shimin’s every expression.

“Twenty carts of jewels, ten thousand taels of gold, a hundred thousand taels of silver, and ten thousand bolts of silk,” Li Shimin recited calmly. These items were already detailed in the peace proposal days before—he was made to repeat them only to be humiliated.

“Hahaha… Very good! I am satisfied. But I also want twenty thousand bushels of grain. As a gesture of goodwill, I will send you three thousand horses and ten thousand sheep. Bring some slaves forward! I want to swear brotherhood with the Tang emperor in blood.”

At his command, several soldiers dragged four or five ragged Han men forward. Drawing his curved blade, Jieli shouted to Li Shimin, “To swear alliance, we must inform the heavens. Today, let human blood be our offering!”

“No! Please spare us! I don’t want to die! Have mercy!” the captives wailed, their tears and snot mingling; some had lost control of their bowels. On the Tang side, people turned away in shame, unable to watch their own people murdered, yet powerless to stop it. In the grand scheme, the sacrifice of a few was endurable—but it should have been warriors, not defenseless civilians.

“Hahaha… To show my sincerity, I’ll go first.” With those words, Jieli raised his blade, and blood sprayed forth. Severed heads, faces frozen in terror, rolled on the ground, one coming to rest beneath his boot.

“Your turn, Tang emperor. Five will do—kill five and it’s enough,” Jieli declared arrogantly, kicking a head toward Li Shimin. The emperor said nothing; whom could he kill? He had no Turks at hand, and even if he did, Jieli would never allow it.