Volume Three: The Tempest of the Xuanwu Gate Chapter Seventy-One: The Profligate of the Prince of Qin’s Residence

The next morning, Mingyu rose early. After completing his daily exercises at the martial grounds and working up a sweat, he felt invigorated and refreshed. The two maids, First Snow and White Dew, were indeed carefully selected—not only were they lovely in appearance, but their service was attentive. Mingyu finished his washing, and with their help, changed into fresh clothes. As he pondered heading into Chang’an later to broaden his horizons and witness the bustling metropolis as it was over a thousand years ago, First Snow and White Dew noticed Li Mingyu stepping out and asked, “Young Master, are you going out?”

Mingyu nodded. “That’s right. I’ve just arrived in Chang’an and plan to take a stroll. What, do you wish to accompany me?”

First Snow smiled. “Young Master, I’m afraid today isn’t possible. While you were practicing earlier, Steward Wang sent someone to inform us that, by the Princess’s order, you are to be taken to the academy in the manor to study.”

Upon hearing this, Mingyu’s spirits plummeted instantly. He felt a headache coming on, wishing to skip lessons but not daring to truly defy Changsun’s wishes.

Soon enough, Steward Wang De arrived, leading the dejected Li Mingyu toward the school hall. Wang De noticed Mingyu’s lackluster spirits and asked, “Young Master, did you not rest well last night, or are you unaccustomed to your lodgings? You look pale—shall I summon the imperial physician?”

Mingyu hung his head and replied weakly, “Don’t worry, Steward Wang, I’m fine. It’s just that the thought of going to class gives me a headache. Whenever I hear those ancient texts, I feel drowsy. That’s why I can’t muster any energy.”

Wang De smiled kindly. “Young Master, rest assured. Her Highness cares deeply about the education of the princes and has invited the most learned scholars of Chang’an—every word is precious, every phrase eloquent. You will surely benefit greatly from their teachings.”

Mingyu’s head drooped even lower. He thought to himself, “That’s exactly what I dread: people who insist on quoting classics and circling around endlessly, as if that’s the only way to prove their erudition.”

He sighed. “Ah, to think I’m already this old, yet must sit with these five- or six-year-old children, nodding and swaying as we recite primers—it’s truly mortifying.”

“Don’t worry, Young Master. Though the princes are the youngest, they are exceptionally bright and have already passed the elementary stage. Now, they are learning the Book of Rites with the tutor.” Wang De lifted his chin with pride. “Moreover, the academy isn’t just for the princes of our manor. Many children of trusted generals and advisers from the Heavenly Strategy Mansion are here as well. Her Highness gathered them all, hired distinguished scholars, and let them study together with the princes—so they have companions.”

Li Mingyu understood then. “Ah, so there are study companions.” He mused silently that Changsun and her husband truly knew how to win loyalty, playing the card of camaraderie and binding everyone, young and old, to Second Uncle Li Shimin’s chariot.

Wang De said, “Young Master, please don’t be so formal with me in the future. Just call me Wang De.”

Mingyu chuckled. “Steward Wang, since you say so, I still feel that calling you by name is too impersonal. How about I call you Old Wang from now on?”

Wang De immediately agreed, “Good, good, that’s a fine name. It sounds warm and friendly.”

As they spoke, they arrived at the academy. Wang De still had matters to attend to and took his leave.

Mingyu stepped inside. The so-called academy was, in fact, a spacious and bright hall. The tutor had not yet arrived. Mingyu looked around and saw shelves lined with scrolls, and several large beast-faced incense burners filled with charcoal, radiating waves of heat. Though it was freezing outside, the hall was as warm as spring. More than a dozen desks were arranged in three rows, each covered with brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones.

Li Chengqian sat in the center, with Li Tai and Li Ke flanking him. The three brothers knelt upright in the first row, properly composed. When Mingyu entered, Li Ke discreetly winked at him.

Behind them were about a dozen boys, ranging from seven or eight to eleven or twelve. Some sprawled over their desks, others bit their brush handles, and some pretended to read, though their eyes kept glancing toward Mingyu.

Seeing yet another array of kneeling desks, Mingyu inwardly groaned. After all these years in the Tang dynasty, he still hadn’t gotten used to kneeling. Usually, he’d sit cross-legged whenever possible, taking every opportunity to relax. He could manage kneeling for a meal, but sitting like this all morning? Even before sitting, his knees ached at the thought.

Mingyu was reluctant to attend. If not for Changsun’s orders, he’d have wandered off long ago. In his foul mood, he didn’t bother greeting the children, instead picking a corner in the last row and sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning against a pillar, mind drifting as he pondered how to while away the morning.

Beside him sat a boy of about ten, who poked Mingyu with his brush and asked, “Hey, newcomer, what’s your name?”

Mingyu, already irritable and feeling over forty in mind, had no wish to engage with these youngsters. He didn’t reply, spread a book over his face, and prepared to meet the Duke of Zhou in his dreams.

But the boy wouldn’t give up, poking Mingyu again and speaking louder, “Hey, newcomer, I’m talking to you.”

Annoyed by the poking, Mingyu thought, “Is there such a thing as school bullies in ancient Tang? Do newcomers have to report their names?” He snapped the book closed and, with a hint of impatience, asked, “What? Must I tell you my name?”

The boy, whether cheerful or simply oblivious to Mingyu’s irritation, grinned and said, “My mother told me, in the Prince of Qin’s academy, we’re all one family. Get along well, support each other, and then no one will bully us.”

Amused by the boy’s tone, Mingyu glanced over. The boy was sturdy and strong, broad-featured, with thick brows and a tigerish face—altogether likable. Mingyu laughed. “My name is Li Mingyu. I just arrived in Chang’an.”

The boy was taken aback, then exclaimed, “Li Mingyu? Are you the one who beat up those troublemakers from the Dugu and Houmochen families outside the East Gate yesterday, cut off their ears to use as snacks?”

Mingyu nodded. The boy became excited, shouting, “At last, I meet you in person! Since I heard the news yesterday, I’ve admired you deeply, and decided to follow you as my big brother! I hoped to meet you one day, and here you are! Brother, please accept my respects!”

Mingyu was baffled and hurried to stop him. Surely, he wasn’t some kingly overlord—was he greeted with sworn brothers the moment he arrived? He asked, “Hold on, hold on, let’s not talk about that. Let me ask you—yes, I beat them and cut off an ear each to teach them a lesson, but what’s this about using them as snacks?”

The boy, with the look of someone who knew all his exploits, replied, “All of Chang’an is talking! They say you single-handedly broke the bones of those troublemakers, along with several hundred of their household guards and retainers, breaking each of their legs. Then, you cut off an ear from each, strung them together, and used them as snacks.”

Just then, a burly, dark-skinned boy in the front row turned around and, in a booming voice, said, “Don’t listen to Chumo’s nonsense. It was clearly a kick that crushed their manhood, making them kneel and beg for mercy, crying out ‘Grandfather, spare me!’ three times!”

The earlier exclamation of “Li Mingyu” had drawn the attention of nearby children, who now chimed in, arguing over the details. One insisted there was a tiger involved—that the ears had been fed to a tiger. Another said they’d heard the victims were stripped naked and hung from the city gate to be air-dried.

Mingyu listened to these various versions, touched his nose, and could only smile wryly. Even in the Tang dynasty, gossip flourished. In just one day, rumors had spread in all directions, each with vivid details—these children were more creative than he’d ever seen in the modern era.

At that moment, an attendant entered and addressed the children, “The tutor’s household just sent word: the tutor has caught a chill and is unwell today. Classes are suspended, and you are to review your lessons on your own.” With that, he hurried out.

Hearing the tutor wouldn’t be coming, the children cheered and crowded around Mingyu. One exclaimed, “Brother Li, you truly are remarkable! You took on hundreds—what a hero!”

Another said, “I’ve long disliked those bullies. If my father hadn’t forbidden me, I’d have beaten them all myself.”

Someone else shouted, “Bah! With your skills, you can’t even beat me, let alone them!”

The academy burst into noisy chaos, everyone talking at once.

The boy who had spoken earlier spread his hands and called loudly, “Hold on, everyone! Let’s introduce ourselves to Brother Mingyu.” He pointed to himself. “My name is Cheng Chumo. That shorter one over there is my brother, Cheng Chuliang. Our father is Cheng Zhijie.”

The burly, dark-skinned boy rumbled, “I am Yuchi Baolin. My father is Yuchi Gong.”

A fair-faced, refined boy clasped his hands in an adult manner and said, “Changsun Chong, son of Changsun Wuji.”

A skinny boy with a hooked nose announced, “Hou Jie, son of Hou Junji.”

“I'm Niu Jianhu, son of Niu Jinda.” “Fang Yizhi, son of Fang Xuanling.”

...

Li Mingyu greeted them all, and so their acquaintance began.