Chapter Forty-Four: The Little Secret of Princess Huairou

Although Yang Lian often spoke in a dispirited tone, he still kept a close eye on Southern Tang’s campaign against Min. After all, if the internal court struggle ended with the defeat of Prince Qi’s faction led by Li Jingsui, then, as one waxed, the other waned—Li Hongji, the Duke of Dongping, would inevitably see his power soar. Yang Lian had never had a good relationship with Li Hongji, and if the latter were to gain the upper hand, his own actions would become even more difficult.

However, judging by the current situation, the battle for Fuzhou had reached a stalemate. Yang Lian estimated that there would be no new developments until spring the following year at the earliest. Indeed, things unfolded much as he had predicted. It was not until late October, nearly a month after its deployment, that Wuyue’s army arrived to support Fuzhou. In that time, for a whole month, the Southern Tang forces failed to breach the inner city.

Wuyue troops infiltrated the city, bringing sufficient provisions and joining forces with Li Renda, which only strengthened his resolve to hold out. Soon after, the Southern Tang army captured the Dongwu Gate, and Chen Jue dispatched Wang Jianfeng, Prefect of Xinzhou, to assist in the assault. Yet, because the generals vied for merit, they still failed to seize the inner city. Instead, Li Renda seized the opportunity to slay over a hundred Southern Tang soldiers, boosting the morale of the allied defenders.

News of these events reached Jinling in mid-December. Most among the emperor and officials of Southern Tang remained optimistic, for Chen Jue’s victory reports had been carefully edited. Amidst the celebration, no one paid attention to the details.

Li Jing was greatly pleased. He ordered his fourth brother Li Jingda to go to Fuzhou to reward the troops and instructed him to relay to Chen Jue the imperative of capturing Fuzhou and ending the war by spring. In the capital, Li Jing hosted a grand banquet for all officials of third rank and above.

Yang Lian, Lin Renzhao, and Chen Tie, of course, were not of high enough rank and so spent their days lounging at home, drinking millet wine and enjoying a carefree existence. As the year drew to a close, Prince Qi sent gifts, which left Yang Lian somewhat abashed. Although both men clearly had their own motives for associating, Prince Qi had always treated him with genuine courtesy. After some thought, Yang Lian personally brought his secret-recipe sausages as a gift to Prince Qi’s residence.

In truth, sausages had existed since ancient times, even as far back as the Northern and Southern dynasties. However, Yang Lian’s sausages were smoked with pine and cypress branches, blended with a touch of dry mustard for a hint of spice, and the taste was quite unique. Sending gold or jewels would not impress Prince Qi, who lacked for nothing, but such a thoughtful gift stood out.

Sure enough, Prince Qi, Li Jingsui, was intrigued and promptly ordered the sausages to be cooked so he could taste them, inviting Yang Lian to stay for the meal. As they conversed, the topic naturally turned to the Fuzhou campaign. Yang Lian could see that Li Jingsui was very satisfied and optimistic about the situation.

Since Prince Qi was in high spirits, Yang Lian did not wish to dampen his mood. He merely hinted that they should keep a close eye on Wuyue’s movements, but perhaps his words were too subtle, for Li Jingsui did not seem to take notice. After dining at Prince Qi’s mansion, Yang Lian was leaving when Princess Huairou slipped over, her manner secretive.

“Are you free tomorrow?” Princess Huairou asked.

“I am,” Yang Lian replied succinctly.

“Come with me somewhere tomorrow.” Her mood seemed low. After a moment’s thought, she whispered, “But you mustn’t tell my father.”

Yang Lian nodded. “All right,” he said, turning to leave.

“Aren’t you even curious?” Princess Huairou asked, wide-eyed.

“If you don’t wish to say, then I won’t ask,” Yang Lian replied with a smile and a wave. “Just tell me what time tomorrow and I’ll wait for you at the gate of Prince Qi’s residence.”

“No, I’ll come find you,” she insisted.

Yang Lian nodded, understanding, and took his leave.

The next day dawned unexpectedly bright. Yang Lian rose early as usual, went for his morning run, bathed in cold water, and was just about to eat when Princess Huairou slipped in, looking somewhat disheveled and with dirt on her face.

“Your Highness, what happened?” Yang Lian asked in surprise.

“Every year on this day, Father forbids me to go out,” she replied, clearly annoyed.

“Why?” asked Yang Lian.

“Because today is a special day,” she said. Then, catching sight of the fragrant porridge before him, her stomach grumbled audibly. “What’s that? I want some too!”

“Pork and preserved egg congee,” Yang Lian smiled, ladling a bowl for her and adding two steamed buns.

“Delicious! So good!” Princess Huairou was clearly famished, eating with little regard for decorum. Yang Lian couldn’t help but smile—this headstrong, willful girl had her endearing side after all.

“Why is it that anything you cook is always so tasty?” she asked.

“There’ll be even better food in the future,” Yang Lian replied with a laugh. Running an inn and tavern was only the beginning—he was saving up to open a smithy, make fine weapons, and perhaps even forge iron pots. He had only theoretical knowledge, and not too detailed at that, but though many failures might lie ahead, he was undaunted. Failure was just the mother of success; what mattered was not being crushed by defeat, as Chen Tie once had been.

After eating her fill, Princess Huairou’s cheeks regained some color and she urged Yang Lian to hurry out of the city with her.

With the year’s end approaching, the city gates were under strict guard, especially as the Southern Tang was still at war with the remnants of Min and Wuyue eyed them covetously. The court feared saboteurs. But Yang Lian had a Shenwu Army token, and Princess Huairou had credentials from Prince Qi’s residence, so the guards let them pass.

Yang Lian was curious—what exactly did she intend? Xuanwu Lake lay outside Jinling’s walls, its edges frozen solid in the deep cold, the center still rippling with water. They walked along the lakeside path; Princess Huairou was uncharacteristically subdued, her steps soft as if afraid to disturb someone.

Xuanwu Lake was a royal garden in Southern Tang, usually closed to commoners, but Princess Huairou revealed her identity, and the guards allowed them through. She led Yang Lian to Cherry Blossom Isle, one of the lake’s five isles, famed for its cherry trees which, in March and April, bloomed in breathtaking profusion. In winter, though, all was desolate; the cherry trees had shed their leaves to the cold, leaving bare branches shivering in the wind, casting a melancholy air.

Once on the isle, Princess Huairou’s mood grew heavier and her steps lighter, as if afraid to wake the dead. As Yang Lian looked around, he saw some graves about five hundred paces off. As they approached, a woman came into view, veiled and her face covered with white gauze, followed by a similarly attired maid. They passed quietly by.

Yang Lian paused, glancing back, but then shook his head—perhaps he was overthinking things.

A few dozen steps further, Yang Lian spotted a tombstone in the distance and his heart skipped a beat. He quickly composed himself, hiding his emotions. Princess Huairou approached the large grave, and, upon seeing the inscription, tears streamed down her face. Yang Lian noticed a bouquet of flowers trembling in the cold wind before the tomb—had the woman just left them?

He looked around again and saw another, even larger, tomb nearby, with white candles burning before it. Perhaps the two women had been there to pay their respects. He turned back to examine the inscription on the first tombstone: “Tomb of the late Princess Yongxing of the Great Tang, Lady Li Yaofan.” The words cut like a knife.

This was the grave of his wife in his past life, daughter of Li Bian. After Yang Lian had been killed, Li Yaofan, upon hearing the news, believed her father Li Bian to be the murderer, and had come to Jinling to confront him. Li Bian, of course, denied it, blaming bandits for Yang Lian’s death and washing his hands of the matter.

Li Yaofan would not believe him. The Yang family of Wu had long enjoyed a good reputation in Jiangnan—especially after Yang Xingmi quelled the chaos, expelled the cannibal Sun Ru, and distributed military grain to the starving. After securing Jiangnan and the Huai, the Yangs had eased taxes, encouraged agriculture and sericulture, and restored the region’s economy. The people cherished their memory and could not believe anyone would have killed Yang Lian.

Li Yaofan refused to leave Jinling. As Li Bian’s daughter, she could not be driven away, and before long, she died, heartbroken. Li Bian, sighing, buried her on Cherry Blossom Isle.

As Princess Huairou knelt and prayed, Yang Lian pieced together these memories. He felt respect for his predecessor’s wife. He too bowed solemnly and burned spirit money.

Seeing that Princess Huairou was still burning offerings, Yang Lian’s gaze drifted to the other grave, the one with white candles burning. Driven by curiosity, he approached. When he made out the inscription, he gave a wry smile—this was the tomb of “Yang Lian.” At the time, many had believed Yang Lian dead, including Li Bian. After all, he was the late imperial crown prince, son-in-law to Li Bian, honored with titles and offices. Li Bian had to make a gesture and so gave him a grand burial.

“Auntie’s greatest wish was to be buried with Uncle Amo, but Grandfather would not allow it. He only had them buried here, with a ditch dug between their graves,” Princess Huairou said, having come up quietly.

Yang Lian clenched his fist, his knuckles cracking softly as a wave of anger surged within him, soon replaced by relief. On one hand, he was furious at Li Bian’s heartlessness; on the other, he was glad, for the man in the grave was not truly him.

Princess Huairou, oblivious, continued to pray at “Yang Lian’s” grave. “Uncle Amo was the best—he’d take me to raid bird’s nests and fly kites. But he’s gone now. Why is it that, for power, even the closest kin can turn on one another?”

Though her voice was soft, it struck Yang Lian like thunder. He took a deep breath, casting off his shock and frustration, and said, “Don’t be sad. One day, you’ll see him again.”

“Really?” Princess Huairou asked.

“Really,” Yang Lian replied with a firm nod.