Chapter Sixty-Two: A Battle of Wits and Courage

The army advanced slowly, taking ten full days to reach Jinling. When they were still more than ten miles from the city, word came that they were to make camp outside the walls. Soon after, officials from the Privy Council arrived, ordering all troops to surrender their weapons. Once this was done, other imperial guards from within Jinling were dispatched to station themselves on the flanks of the Shenwu and Tianxiong armies. The implications needed no further explanation.

From this alone, Yang Lian could see that the Emperor was a deeply suspicious man. Most of the families and loved ones of the Shenwu and Tianxiong soldiers resided in Jinling—there was hardly need for such anxiety. The Emperor’s actions, in fact, would only serve to unsettle his troops.

Yang Lian sought out Li Zhenggu, Gao Shensi, and others, voicing his concerns. Li Zhenggu thought he was making too much of it, but Gao Shensi agreed that Yang Lian’s caution was well-placed. With the troops already uneasy, any unrest could prove perilous; if the people of Wu and Yue took the chance to stir up trouble again, the situation would become dire. Gao immediately called his subordinates, instructing them to calm the soldiers—at such a critical moment, no mistakes could be tolerated. Li Zhenggu, seeing that Gao agreed with Yang Lian, ordered the camp gates sealed. No one was to enter or leave without his command.

At midday, a eunuch arrived at the camp, delivering the Emperor’s edict: Li Zhenggu, Gao Shensi, Zhu Kuangye, and Yang Lian were summoned to an audience.

It was only natural for the Emperor to summon Li Zhenggu, Gao Shensi, and Zhu Kuangye, for they were either commanders or high-ranking officials. Yang Lian, on the other hand, was merely a junior officer; his summons suggested he was to be rewarded.

Many cast envious glances at Yang Lian, but he paid them no mind. He would have to meet Li Jing sooner or later—better now than later.

The four mounted their horses and, led by the eunuch, entered Jinling. The contrast struck Yang Lian: how grand his departure from the capital had been, watched by thousands, and how desolate his return—most were now disgraced, their lives hanging by a thread.

They passed through the city’s central axis, riding slowly along the Qinhuai River. Along the way, Yang Lian caught sight of his own inn and tavern, feeling as if life itself were but a dream.

It took half an hour to reach the imperial city. Within, the halls and pavilions were adorned with luxurious splendor; flowers bloomed everywhere, a testament to Li Jing’s careful management. Little wonder, then, that the power of Great Tang had waned after only a few campaigns—so much had been squandered on extravagance.

The palace compound, where the royal family truly resided—the Empress, consorts, and young princes and princesses—was even more ornate. Red lacquer gleamed, and the finest silks from Bashu draped the halls. Without the former wealth of Tang, Li Jing’s extravagance would have been impossible.

Yang Lian and his companions were left waiting for the Emperor’s summons. He, however, was untroubled, fixing his gaze calmly, at ease. Li Zhenggu, in contrast, was nervous—what would become of them after this defeat?

After another half hour, Li Zhenggu’s legs were growing numb when he finally saw Prince Qi, Li Jingsui, emerge from the palace. Catching sight of Yang Lian, Li Jingsui nodded with a smile before departing.

Moments later, a eunuch led Li Zhenggu inside. Yang Lian waited another half hour, but Li Zhenggu did not return. Instead, the same eunuch led Gao Shensi in.

Had Li Zhenggu been imprisoned? Yang Lian wondered.

Another half hour passed, and the eunuch took Zhu Kuangye inside as well, still with no sign of Li Zhenggu or Gao Shensi.

“What is going on?” Yang Lian mused. This time, he waited only as long as it takes incense to burn before the eunuch hurried out to fetch him.

“Sir,” Yang Lian asked quietly, glancing around to ensure they were alone before slipping a piece of silver into the eunuch’s hand, “how are Vice Commissioner Li and Commander Gao?”

The eunuch grinned and whispered, “They’re fine.” Then he led Yang Lian toward the main hall.

Yang Lian followed, winding through several corridors before entering a dimly lit room. The once-glossy crimson lacquer had dulled with age, which struck Yang Lian as odd. The eunuch smiled faintly and led him onward.

They walked more than twenty paces, the shadows unbroken, before the eunuch halted and announced softly, “Your Majesty, Yang Lian is here.”

Looking ahead, Yang Lian made out a solitary figure some thirty paces away, blurred and indistinct.

Ignoring any theatrics, Yang Lian stepped forward, saluted, and declared, “Your humble servant Yang Lian greets Your Majesty.”

“Yang Lian, are you aware of your crimes?” the figure demanded.

“Su Chang’s defeat was my fault for failing to advise Vice Commissioner Li,” Yang Lian replied coolly. “I am indeed guilty.”

A cold snort came from the shadows. “That’s not what I meant. Years ago, you escaped by chance. You should have left Tang forever, but instead you dared return. Are you plotting to restore your lost kingdom?”

“Your Majesty, I have been in Jinling less than a year, and prior to this I had never set foot here. What is it that Your Majesty accuses me of?” Yang Lian’s voice was calm. Yet he wondered who this person could be, for the tone was not quite that of the Emperor.

“Still trying to talk your way out?” The voice grew sharper, and with a hiss, ordered, “Guards, seize Yang Lian and give him a good beating! Let’s see whether his tongue or my whip is tougher!”

At the command, several armored guards emerged from the darkness, their weapons glinting menacingly in the candlelight. Their armor grated as they moved, the sound chilling to the bone.

A young eunuch lit more candles, and the chamber brightened. Yang Lian could now see the man ahead: he wore imperial yellow robes and a tall crown, appearing to be in his thirties.

As Yang Lian studied him, the man also scrutinized Yang Lian. At the sight of the scar that marred his face, the man started. Yang Lian was not ugly, but the scar lent him a fierce and intimidating aspect.

After a long, silent stare, the man finally asked, “So, do you still refuse to admit your true identity?”

Yang Lian suddenly began to laugh—softly at first, then louder and louder, utterly unafraid of the man before him, Emperor of Tang or not. The guards exchanged uneasy glances, bewildered.

After a while, Yang Lian sobered and asked earnestly, “Does Your Majesty truly believe I am the exiled Crown Prince of the former dynasty?”

“Are you not?” The voice was cold and calm.

“I am indeed Yang Lian, a native of Chang’an in Guanzhong. If Your Majesty is set on believing me the former Crown Prince, then so be it. You are the sovereign of Tang, and I am but your servant—how dare I contradict you?”

“If the ruler wills it, the subject must die. Yet before I die, I have this to say: I have no connection to the old Crown Prince whatsoever.”

With that, Yang Lian closed his eyes, as if offering his neck for execution.

The man watched him for a long time. “Are you truly unafraid of death?”

“Of course I fear death, Your Majesty. But I fear dying in vain even more. And if I must die, I fear for Your Majesty’s reputation.” Yang Lian’s tone was composed.

“My reputation?” The man sounded surprised.

“A mutiny in Changzhou nearly led to disaster—had the defeated troops attacked, countless innocents would have suffered, and Wu-Yue might have seized the chance to invade. At that point, Tang would have descended into chaos. I, though unworthy, managed to avert this calamity. Even if I have no merit, I should not be punished. My death means nothing, but if Your Majesty kills a loyal servant, it will stain your name. The officials and the people will say that the Emperor slays meritorious ministers at will—that is not the mark of a wise ruler.” Yang Lian spoke with earnest conviction, seemingly out of concern for the Emperor.

The man hesitated. That such eloquence could come from a mere warrior surprised him.

In the brightly lit room next door, Li Jingsui, Prince Qi, stood behind another man and laughed. “Brother, do you think this man could be the old Crown Prince?”

The “brother” he addressed was none other than the Emperor, Li Jing. The man outside interrogating Yang Lian was his younger brother, Li Jingda. Though Li Jing doubted Yang Lian was the exiled prince, he had decided to test him regardless.

Yang Lian’s words, though bold, revealed a forthright and unwavering spirit. Prince Qi had told the Emperor how Yang Lian had once saved Princess Huairou and was a man of humble origins, so Li Jing was not offended. In fact, Yang Lian’s request to die, paired with his concern for the Emperor, made Li Jing think highly of him.

Satisfied, Li Jing laughed and strode into the room, Prince Qi following.

“Jingda, let us end this here,” Li Jing said, smiling.

Li Jingda quickly removed his yellow robe and tall crown, bowing in apology. “Your Majesty, forgive me.”

“You acted on my orders—no need for apologies.” The Emperor smiled, studying the scar on Yang Lian’s face and reassessing him. Reports from the Prefect of Changzhou, Sui Kuangfu, and Vice Commissioner Li Zhenggu had already made a strong impression on him.

In the wake of defeats at Fuzhou and Suchang, Yang Lian had killed a Wu-Yue commander and several captains, rescued the Vice Commissioner and senior generals from Shashan, and—against all odds—single-handedly captured a Wu-Yue spy, lifting the siege of Changzhou. For a mere junior officer, these were remarkable achievements.

At a time when every front was collapsing, Yang Lian’s deeds were a candle in the darkness, warming the Emperor’s wounded heart.

Now, Li Jing was certain Yang Lian was not the former Crown Prince—not only was his appearance and voice different, but his character was as well. The old Crown Prince had been weak and scholarly, while this man was a shrewd and resourceful warrior, with little literary grace.

Freed of all doubts, Li Jing’s face lit up with genuine warmth. With the old Tang generals fading and the realm still unsettled, with rebels everywhere, Li Jing needed men who could fight. The more he looked at Yang Lian’s scar, the more he approved—such was the bearing of a true soldier, a true man.

“Yang, my loyal subject, it was merely a test—do not be alarmed. I now know you have no connection to the former Crown Prince,” Li Jing said with a smile.

Yang Lian stepped back, startled, looking from Li Jing to Li Jingsui and Li Jingda. “Your Majesty, what on earth is the meaning of all this?” he stammered.