Volume Three: The Storm at Xuanwu Gate Chapter Seventy-Two

One by one, the famous second-generation officials of the Zhenguan era, the oldest no more than ten years old, the youngest only six or seven, came forward to pay their respects. Their fathers had become acquainted with Mingyu as early as the Battle of Hulao Pass. They had long known him to be exceptionally intelligent and capable, a man of remarkable skill, who was also on close terms with Li Shimin. Upon returning home, they had mentioned his name to their wives and children, so the youngsters were at least familiar with him by reputation.

Moreover, after Mingyu’s exploits yesterday, his fame had spread throughout Chang’an, quickly making the rounds among the city’s privileged and idle youth. These boys were not yet basking in the glory that awaited them in the years to come—none were imperial sons-in-law or young marquises at this point. Li Shimin had not yet ascended the throne, and their fathers had not yet become Grand Chancellors or Dukes of the first rank. For now, in the city of Chang’an, they could only be counted as third-tier scions of privilege.

Throughout history, there have always been hierarchies among the idle sons of noble families, divided into their own little circles according to their fathers’ ranks, family backgrounds, and political affiliations. If one’s family did not reach a certain status, there was no hope of being accepted into the inner circles.

Men like Cheng Yaojin and Fang Xuanling were, at this time, still under Li Shimin’s command. Though they had some achievements, compared to the old generals who had fought alongside Li Yuan to found the Tang dynasty, or the entrenched aristocratic families, they were not nearly as influential. Even among the surrendered generals, they could not compare to Li Jing, who had single-handedly pacified Sichuan; at best, they were subordinate officers in the Prince of Qin’s household, wielding little real power.

Cheng Chumo, Yuchi Baolin, Zhangsun Chong, and others were indeed sons of officials, but their status was far below that of the young masters from the great aristocratic families, such as Du Gujie, whose lineage stretched back for centuries.

Thus, when they heard that the elite young tyrants—who once looked down on them and would not even deign to speak with them—had been single-handedly bested by Li Mingyu, who had laid low hundreds as easily as chopping vegetables, they gazed at him with nothing but admiration and respect.

Among them, Hou Jie, due to his own background, idolized such bold and domineering figures the most. His thin, reed-like body shook with excitement as he asked, “Big Brother Mingyu, did you truly defeat hundreds of them all by yourself?”

Mingyu scratched his head, somewhat embarrassed. “Not exactly. Hundreds would have exhausted me to death. With those fellows and the waves of family retainers and house guards, there were perhaps a hundred or so. But I only broke a leg for each, and cut off an ear from Du Gujie and the others. As for drinking wine with their ears, crushing their eggs, or stripping them naked and hanging them from the city gate—none of that happened.”

“Wow! Amazing, just amazing!” the group of idle youths shouted in admiration. Most hailed from military families, or from men like Fang Xuanling, scholars who had seen the battlefield. Each had been steeped in family tradition. Sons of generals began training in martial arts from a young age; they knew well what kind of strength it took to defeat a hundred men alone. If he were a seasoned general, that might be expected, but this young man was only a little older than themselves. Their admiration grew even deeper.

Cheng Chumo raised his thumb in praise. “My father often spoke of Brother Mingyu’s greatness, but I never believed him, thinking it was just tall tales. Since hearing of your deeds yesterday, I am convinced—only such a hero, who can fight a hundred alone, is worthy to be my elder brother!”

“I’ve long had enough of those arrogant brats,” said Niu Jianhu, recalling the many times he and his companions had suffered under Du Gujie and his gang. “They bullied us just because their families had some influence, bossing us around and never giving us the time of day. Mingyu, you’ve finally given us a breath of relief!”

Yuchi Baolin, with his booming voice, added, “Well fought, Brother Mingyu! Last time, they ganged up on me—ten against one! I was almost beaten to a pulp. I ran home, hoping to steal my father’s horse lance to stab them, but he gave me a thrashing instead!”

A group of half-grown boys, brimming with youthful vigor and a love of bravery and competition, became more animated as they spoke, until, in the end, they unanimously acknowledged Li Mingyu as their leader alongside Cheng Chumo.

Cheng Chumo thumped his chest. “From now on, you’re my elder brother! My brother and I will be counting on you to look after us!”

Hou Jie’s father, Hou Junji, had in his younger days been a bit of a scoundrel, idle and rough, but strong and brave. A few years earlier, when Li Shimin was gathering talented men, Hou Junji sought him out, and Li Shimin, seeing his abilities, put him to use. Now, Hou Junji was a general, but his coarse manners lingered, and he was quick to curse. Hou Jie was very much his father’s son.

Excitedly, Hou Jie burst out with street slang, “Chumo’s right—from now on, you’re our big boss! We’ll follow you! If anyone messes with us, I’ll make sure they regret it, no need for you to lift a finger!”

Li Mingyu, though a man with the mind of someone in his forties, had long outgrown youthful hotheadedness. But after some thought, he realized that these boys, though insignificant now, would rise with Li Shimin’s ascent—becoming imperial sons-in-law, commanders, or heirs to dukedoms, their status soaring in an instant. Relying on Li Shimin’s favor alone wasn’t enough; it would be wise to secure a second line of support. If he could bring these boys together, then in the future, all of Chang’an—and the entire Tang realm—would be his playground.

With that, Li Mingyu made up his mind. Thumping his chest with heroic bravado, he declared, “Since you call me your big brother, I won’t let you down. From now on, you’re under my protection! Whoever gives you trouble is challenging me, Li Mingyu. I don’t care if it’s the son of the Du Gu family, the Liu household, or even the Crown Prince’s son—if anyone crosses you, I’ll deal with them myself!”

The group of ten-year-old boys were so fired up by his words that they were ready to go out and challenge any young aristocrats who had wronged them, sweeping away years of humiliation.

With a grand gesture, Li Mingyu shouted, “No time like the present! Since the teacher isn’t here today and everyone’s present, let’s go out and celebrate!”

The group of youths cheered, tossing aside their books, and prepared to leave in unison.

Little chubby Li Tai was bouncing with excitement. Usually cooped up at home, he was thrilled at the chance to go out.

Li Chengqian, with the air of an elder brother, put on a stern face and called his younger brother back. “Qingque, come back and study! You’re not going anywhere!”

Li Tai pouted, his face scrunched like a steamed bun. “I want to go out and play with big brother too! It’s rare for the teacher to be absent.”

Li Chengqian replied, “Did you forget what mother told us this morning? Even if the teacher doesn’t come, we must still memorize the ‘Great Learning’ from the Book of Rites. Mother will check our lessons tonight.”

Li Tai and Li Ke looked hopefully at Li Mingyu, wishing he would take them along.

But as soon as Li Mingyu heard that it was a strict order from Lady Zhangsun, he dared not say a word. It was one thing to skip class on his first day, but to lead her beloved sons astray as well—he couldn’t imagine how she might punish him. Mingyu was genuinely wary of Lady Zhangsun, so he gave them a helpless look and left with the others.

The two brothers sighed, picked up their books, and began to read listlessly.

Li Chengqian held his book, but his mind wandered far afield. In truth, he too envied the others—after all, he was only six years old, at an age when he should have been lively and playful. How could he suppress such natural impulses? Yet from the time he could understand the world, Lady Zhangsun had instilled in him that as the eldest son of the Prince of Qin’s household, he must shoulder his responsibilities, carry himself with the bearing of a noble heir, mind his manners in all things, and conduct himself with courtesy, for every action reflected on the family.

For now, his duty was to mind his younger brother and devote himself to his studies, so that all the world would know that the Prince of Qin’s son was diligent, eager to learn, and widely read.

Sometimes, Li Chengqian felt that being the heir to the Prince of Qin was like wearing an invisible shackle, binding him tightly. When, he wondered, would he ever be able to do as he pleased, to play as he wished, free from all these rules?