Chapter Five: I Think So Too

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It was the height of June, the oppressive heat of summer pressing down relentlessly. Though several blocks of ice had been placed around the room, Yang Xi, still flushed from agitation, felt unbearably hot and was drenched in sweat. Pei’er sat beside his couch, gently fanning him, while Yang Zheng stood nearby, anxious and uneasy.

A while earlier, they had stood outside, hearing Yang Xi’s raised voice from within, but they had no idea of the specifics—only assuming that Yang Xi had been berated by the master. It was not until Yang Guozhong left the room, his face amiable as he instructed them to take good care of the Fourth Young Master and ensure nothing went amiss, that their hearts were set at ease. Yet they could not fail to notice Yang Xi’s lingering anger and unrest; both were tense, not daring to ask any questions.

Yang Xi was not an ordinary person. After lying quietly for a while, he regained his composure and turned to ask Yang Zheng, who stood at his side, “Yang Zheng, has Father left the residence?”

“Yes, Fourth Young Master. The master has gone to the palace for affairs of state again!” Yang Zheng replied honestly. “There’s so much the master must handle these days—he spends most of his time in the palace, consulting with His Majesty. Just now, he only returned home to check on your injury out of concern.”

“Do you know anything of the situation at the front, at Tongguan?” Yang Xi pressed further.

“I know very little!” Yang Zheng shook his head. “Fourth Young Master, I don’t know the latest developments. The master doesn’t share such things with us—perhaps with the eldest or second young master, but not with me.”

Yang Zheng’s words instantly lifted Yang Xi’s spirits. He sat up and asked eagerly, “Are they here at the residence, then?”

Yang Guozhong, only moments earlier, had mentioned that he often discussed court matters with his eldest son Yang Xuan and his second son Yang Pei, both holding high office. If Yang Xi could persuade them, then perhaps the brothers, united, could sway Yang Guozhong’s mind and thus change the course of events. He was eager to seek out his two elder brothers, whom he had not yet met, and speak with them about this.

“Fourth Young Master, the eldest, second, and third young masters have all been extremely busy lately—they haven’t been back to the residence for some time. I’ve heard they are constantly occupied at the palace or their offices, and seldom even return to their own homes,” Yang Zheng answered honestly.

Yang Xi’s three elder brothers—Yang Xuan, Yang Pei, and Yang Xiao—were all adults and had their own households, living apart from the Duke of Wei’s residence. Yang Xuan served as Vice Minister of Revenue and Grand Minister of Ceremonies, Yang Pei as Minister of Rites, and Yang Xiao as Assistant Minister of Works. Since the An Lushan rebellion began, the court had adopted new strategies and all, like Yang Guozhong, were kept perpetually busy, rarely returning home.

Even after Yang Xi’s injury and subsequent coma, they had visited only once, leaving as soon as they were certain his life was not in danger.

“So it is,” Yang Xi murmured, a deep sense of despair welling within him as he closed his eyes in pain.

He knew all too well the disaster about to descend upon the Great Tang—a calamity that would soon engulf him and many around him. Yet he was powerless to prevent it. He had spent half the day in fruitless persuasion, trying to sway his father, Yang Guozhong—a man of immense influence at court—but to no avail. And he could not reveal his secret: that he was a man from the future, privy to events yet to unfold. What could be more helpless, more agonizing than this?

Perhaps, he thought, if he could speak directly to Emperor Li Longji, things might change. The thought sparked a glimmer of hope in his heart, and he sat up with the sudden urge to rush to the palace and lay out the truth before the emperor. But almost immediately, his spirit dimmed again. If he could not even convince his own father, how could he possibly persuade Li Longji? Yang Guozhong was the emperor’s most trusted minister—on such matters, Li Longji would surely heed the advice of a seasoned statesman, not a mere youth.

Even if he were to enter the palace, he might not even see the emperor; more likely, he would encounter his father instead—an act that would serve no purpose and might even make matters worse.

Yang Xi resolved that he must seek out Yang Guozhong again, set forth the dangers in even starker terms, strike at his father’s deepest fears—only then might he be able to change his mind, and prevent the emperor from ordering Geshu Han to march out and engage in battle.

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Surely the court had not yet ordered Geshu Han to leave the pass and fight? At least, nothing in Yang Guozhong’s earlier words suggested so. Relieved, Yang Xi asked Yang Zheng, “Yang Zheng, when Father enters the palace, where does he usually conduct his affairs?”

“Fourth Young Master, when the master is at the palace, he is either conferring with His Majesty on state matters or in the Hall of State Affairs.”

“Very well. I must go to the palace and find my father—just now, I didn’t make myself clear on some matters,” Yang Xi declared, rising to sit up.

“Fourth Young Master, you mustn’t get up—you are only just recovering from your injuries! You need to rest, and if you go out now, the master will have our heads!” Pei’er, who had been fanning him, panicked and dropped to her knees by the bed. Yang Zheng, equally alarmed, knelt and pleaded with Yang Xi not to leave.

Just then, a servant outside called out loudly: the lady of the house had arrived. Amidst the clamor and hurried footsteps, a crowd of people entered the room. At their head was a middle-aged woman, her features drawn with fatigue yet handsome—Yang Xi recognized her at once as his own mother, Pei Rou. He sighed inwardly, but could only rise to greet her respectfully, “Mother, your son greets you!” and made to get out of bed.

Pei Rou hurried forward, supporting him as he tried to rise. “My son, there’s no need for that—lie back and rest,” she said affectionately. “I heard you woke early this morning and could even get up—I cannot tell you how relieved I am! While you’re able, I came at once to see you. Are you feeling better? Is there anywhere you still feel unwell? I’ll have the imperial physician come again to examine you. You must rest as much as possible these days!”

She helped Yang Xi sit at the edge of the bed, inspecting him closely and caressing him with gentle hands, asking repeatedly if he felt any discomfort—her care and concern bringing tears to her eyes.

The lingering memories of his body’s former self gave Yang Xi a strange sense of closeness and affection for this mother, who was so openly loving. He forced a smile, wiping away her tears and reassuring her, “Mother, don’t worry—I’m fine now. I can get up and attend to matters. I just spoke with Father for a long time and feel no discomfort at all, so please don’t trouble yourself! I heard you were ill, and I was just thinking of coming to see you!”

“Xi’er, I am all right—just so worried about you these days. Your father and brothers have been so busy with affairs of state that they have had no time to look after you, and I myself have been unwell, unable to remain at your side. It has pained me deeply!” Pei Rou, tears still flowing, spoke with heartfelt emotion. “Thank heaven you have awakened! I am at ease now. When I am recovered, I will go to the Great Ci’en Monastery to light incense and give thanks, praying for your lifelong health and peace.”

“Mother, I truly am well! But you, you’re sick from exhaustion, and you look so worn—please go back and rest. The weather is hot; don’t walk out in the sun and risk heatstroke! I’m already recovered and will come see you myself. I don’t want to be well only to see you fall ill,” Yang Xi urged her again. “I’m a little tired, and would like to sleep for a while. Please don’t strain yourself by staying here—you’ll make me worry.”

The bond of mother and son left Yang Xi at a loss. He longed for a moment of solitude to think, rather than be surrounded by so many people—especially since he still hoped to slip away and find Yang Guozhong again, to press his case once more.

“Very well, then. Rest well and sleep—Mother will go back and rest, too.”

After some more weeping, Pei Rou allowed herself to be helped away by her maids and returned to her rooms.

The room finally quiet, Yang Xi found that his earlier urge to rush to the palace and confront his father had inexplicably faded. He felt drained and overwhelmingly sleepy—perhaps it was from speaking so much and being so agitated, or perhaps his newly recovered body was not yet in harmony with his soul, leaving him unable to fully command his strength.

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“Fourth Young Master, you’re tired—rest now and sleep,” Pei’er’s soft voice murmured, like a lullaby.

As he lay there, his thoughts soon gave way to irresistible drowsiness, and at last, Yang Xi sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.

———

Within Daming Palace, at the Secretariat where the Hall of State Affairs was located, Yang Guozhong, having hurried back to attend to matters, was convening with several trusted ministers.

After receiving the imperial order, Geshu Han had submitted several protests, but when denied by the court, he was forced to march out and fight. The battle had already begun. According to secret reports from the eunuch border commissioner Bian Lingcheng, the government forces had won a few minor skirmishes and were preparing to advance toward Lingbao in search of An Lushan’s main rebel army, though the main forces of both sides had yet to engage.

The reports from the front were as Yang Guozhong had hoped, the campaign’s progress pleasing him somewhat.

Yet, after hearing Yang Xi’s words at home, he found himself uneasy. If the dire consequences his son described were to come to pass, his own days of prosperity would be over, and his whole family might share a tragic fate. He had never thought of it this way before, not even when other ministers voiced similar warnings. But hearing such words from his most beloved son, Yang Xi, forced him to consider these possibilities.

His son would not betray him, nor strike when he was down—he would only act for the sake of the family’s interests.

Thus, while discussing matters with his confidants, he kept behind those he had personally promoted: Minister of War and Chancellor Wei Jiansu, and Governor of the Capital Wei Fangjin. He shared with Wei Jiansu the gist of what Yang Xi had said that day, though omitting anything pertaining to the family’s private interests.

Wei Jiansu and Wei Fangjin were greatly astonished by what they heard, exchanging glances before Wei Jiansu stepped forward and spoke softly, “Prime Minister Yang, I never imagined the Fourth Young Master would possess such insight, to speak with such foresight—it is truly remarkable!”

Yang Guozhong remained impassive. “Do you think my son’s words have merit? Was my decision—to order Geshu Han to take the field and strive for a quick victory over the rebels—mistaken?”

Wei Jiansu hesitated, unsure how to respond. After carefully observing Yang Guozhong and thinking for a moment, he finally said, “Prime Minister Yang, the Fourth Young Master’s words are indeed reasonable. But he speaks without knowledge of the current situation at Tongguan—if he knew what things are like there now, he would not say such things. Your strategy is entirely correct! Our northern armies have won a string of victories, the rebels are in disarray and anxious, abandoning Luoyang for Fanyang. The court must seize this moment, while the enemy’s morale is low, to strike hard—it is certain we will win great success, perhaps even destroy the rebel main force in a single battle and swiftly quell the uprising!”

“Yes, that is what I believe as well,” Yang Guozhong replied with a smile. Reassured, he waved Wei Jiansu and Wei Fangjin away.

[End of page 3]