Chapter 13: The Three-Year Pact with the Grassland Dance King

Under Li Kuan’s conspicuous antics and jokes, the atmosphere in the Tai Chi Hall gradually lightened into a more relaxed one. After all, with someone like Li Kuan—a mischievous child seemingly born to mingle with everyone—no one was in the mood to discuss heavy topics, especially since such talks might lead nowhere.

“Uncle Fang, please try this,” Li Kuan said as he placed a plate of fragrant pan-fried yellow croaker on the table before Fang Xuanling.

“Thank you, Your Highness, the Second Prince,” Fang Xuanling replied, his feelings toward this “sworn big brother” of his own son were complex indeed.

According to Fang Yi’ai, this omnipotent “sworn brother who beheads chickens (the Fang family’s chickens were notoriously ill-fated), burns incense paper, and—fearing pain—failed to drink blood wine” was like an enhanced Liu Bei from the Three Kingdoms period.

Of course, children, having heard many tales, often found sworn brotherhoods something to boast about.

Little did they know that back in the plum garden by the Qujiang Pond, Li Kuan had led a dozen or so children in a sworn brotherhood game under the plum blossoms, terrifying many adults afterward.

Li Kuan’s father, Li Xiaogong, upon learning that his son was forming such “brotherhoods” like those from the Wagang Village rebellion—led by a prince no less—was both angry and anxious.

After beating his son severely, he hurried to the palace to apologize to Emperor Li Er in person.

Yet, despite his show of loyalty, Li Er simply dismissed it lightly with, “Children are just playing house.”

Indeed, even though these privileged scions came from the highest noble families of the Tang dynasty, Li Er was indifferent.

Feeling somewhat guilty toward his son, Li Er chose to let Li Kuan run wild.

As a result, many ministers in the court began to regard the free-spirited Second Prince with a different kind of scrutiny.

The implication was clear.

But Li Kuan never cared for the petty thoughts of others.

“Come now, Uncle Fang, there’s no need for thanks,” Li Kuan said grandly, waving his hand dismissively in response to Fang Xuanling’s politeness. “I often lead my friends to your residence to steal… catch chickens for food, and you and Aunt never minded. Uncle Fang, your generosity is admirable!”

Fang Xuanling looked at this half-grown boy before him. Even this seasoned, prudent statesman, famed for his wisdom, felt a sudden urge to overturn the table.

What do you call getting a bargain and still acting innocent? You’ve really given me a vivid lesson.

“Next spring, I’ll have the servants buy more chicks, but this year…” Fang Xuanling smiled wryly, “I depend on the only rooster at home to wake me for morning court, so please, Second Prince, go easy.”

“No problem, no problem,” Li Kuan, ever the conspicuous troublemaker, seemed utterly oblivious to the fact that his father’s dignity was now completely lost. He shamelessly promised Fang Xuanling, “My uncle raises plenty of chickens, ducks, geese, and even cattle and sheep. I’ll go to my uncle’s place this second half of the year!”

Fang Xuanling cast a satisfied glance at the now-dazed Li Er and, ignoring Li Kuan’s words, began his meal.

Zhangsun Wuji, who had initially wished to help his nephew out of trouble, watched this scene unfold—Li Kuan, now comfortably seated on the heated kang, still promising to shift his mischief to his own uncle—and found his protective affection inexplicably vanishing.

“You rascal…” Zhangsun Wuji looked at Li Kuan, who had come over with a bowl—no, half a bowl—of braised beef, apparently trading it for his food supply for the latter half of the year with the other officials. For the first time, Zhangsun Wuji felt a pang of existential doubt.

His Majesty and his sister were both dignified individuals from prominent families; no matter how he looked at it, this simply shouldn’t be…

Could it really be “Every dragon’s son is different,” or perhaps “Oranges do not grow north of the Huai River”?

Zhangsun Wuji watched as Li Kuan left his side to offer a refreshing dish to Du Ruhui at his desk, lost in thought.

“Uncle Du,” Li Kuan said, taking advantage of his youth and bluntness, “I heard from Du He that you have been unwell lately and shouldn’t eat meat, so don’t think your little nephew is stingy or unwilling to share.”

“Your Highness, you are considerate,” Du Ruhui replied, harboring no particular feelings toward Li Kuan. His attitude was wise: neither seeking closeness nor deliberate distance.

When Emperor Taizong saw his son exchange pleasantries with his trusted ministers but completely ignore him, his anger rose and fell like a fading tide.

Li Er was utterly confounded by Li Kuan’s unconventional behavior; at this moment, he could only try to ignore his son and drown his frustrations in drink alone.

When Li Kuan approached General Niu Jinda, who sat silently with a sorrowful expression, his demeanor took on a rare solemnity.

With memories of the future, Li Kuan knew well the old general’s life story and understood his noble character. He also grasped the gist of their previous conversations.

The locust plague in Guanzhong?

Li Kuan, who had long been mindful of his father Li Er’s three-year pact with a certain “Grassland Dance King,” suddenly recalled that dreadful natural disaster from the early Zhenguan era.

Preventing such a tragedy from recurring was Niu Jinda’s foremost concern, and naturally, Li Kuan agreed wholeheartedly.

Li Kuan placed a bowl of carved胡 rice before Niu Jinda. Seeing the general hesitate to eat, Li Kuan comforted him: “Uncle Niu, even if you worry about the state, you must take care of yourself. To serve the country and the people, you must first maintain a useful body. You are a great general who has commanded on the battlefield; starving yourself weakens you. That is a failure as a warrior and a loss to the empire. In my humble opinion, you should eat your fill first. Only when you have strength can you devise solutions and take action. That is the proper way to solve problems…”

“Clatter…”

Li Er dropped his chopsticks.

Zhangsun Wuji, enjoying his beef, gaped openly without caring for appearances.

Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui also exchanged looks, their gaze toward Li Kuan shifting noticeably.

Is this really our boy?

A lifelong skeptic of ghosts and spirits, Li Er couldn’t help but suspect his son had somehow been possessed.

“Your Highness…” After hearing Li Kuan’s heartfelt words, the battle-hardened Niu Jinda’s eyes welled with tears.

His voice choked with emotion: “It is not that I… it is not that I…” After a long pause, he finally managed to say, “Your Highness, I know what it feels like to starve, and I understand what can happen when hunger persists. I simply do not want the hard-won peace to be destroyed again by such a calamity…”

As he spoke, two murky tears rolled down his rugged face and splashed into the bowl of carved胡 rice before him.

Li Kuan watched the scene silently.

After a long moment, he stood solemnly and looked at Niu Jinda.

“Uncle Niu, regarding the locust plague, I believe that with all of you uncles here, plus…” Li Kuan glanced toward his “barely wise and mighty” old father, “we will surely get through this crisis safely!”