Chapter 1: The Tang Dynasty’s 818 Golden Eyes
Chapter 1: The Golden Eye of Tang 818
Winter of the eleventh year of Zhenguan, Luoyang Palace.
Li Qing stood there, locking eyes with Li Shimin, who sat behind the desk. The encounter was surreal—Li Qing had suddenly acquired a mysterious system that tasked him with traveling across different dynasties to help them unify the world. By absorbing the emotional values of emperors, he could exchange them for various items…
Initially, Li Qing intended to play modest, but the system promised immortality upon completion of the mission. It knew him well, as that was exactly what Li Qing told it he wanted. And so, without warning, he found himself transported to his first stop—standing before Li Shimin.
Li Shimin, startled and suspicious, stared at the young man who had appeared out of nowhere. He had only lowered his head to glance at a memorial, and suddenly someone was there. Yet, as a battle-hardened veteran, he was not easily flustered. The young man before him looked like a carefree youth in spring attire, not an assassin. Regaining his composure, Li Shimin asked, “Who are you? How dare you trespass in the imperial palace?”
Li Qing, himself quick to recover, was not easily rattled. With the system backing him, he felt little fear of imperial authority. He brushed dust off his clothes and replied with ease, “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Li Qing, and I am an immortal.”
“An immortal?” Li Shimin was skeptical. Every immortal he’d ever heard of possessed an otherworldly aura. The young man before him, with his short hair, looked more like a wandering monk than a celestial being. Immortal? Whether others believed it or not, Li Shimin certainly didn’t.
“Bold scoundrel!” came a sharp, youthful rebuke. Only then did Li Qing notice the beautiful girl standing beside Li Shimin. Though still young, she carried a mature, regal air. “How dare you speak glibly and boast shamelessly before His Majesty? Do you not know the consequences of deceiving the emperor?”
“Who’s this girl?” Li Qing grinned, tossing his chin at her.
“You call yourself an immortal, yet you don’t even know who she is?” Li Shimin’s interest was piqued—not because he believed the claim, but because the night was long and dull, and this could prove entertaining.
Wei Zheng, that rustic old man, wasn’t around. Li Shimin felt his mood lighten.
“What year is it?” Li Qing asked, seemingly out of nowhere.
“The eleventh year of Zhenguan,” Li Shimin replied, setting down his imperial brush.
“Zhenguan eleven…” Li Qing felt the chill in the air and recalled the history, “Is she the second daughter of the Wu family?”
Indeed, Li Shimin had summoned Wu Meiniang to Luoyang and granted her the title of Talent. Li Qing remembered this distinctly.
But Wu Meiniang was still naive, far from the formidable presence she would later become, capable of ordering traitors to be hacked to pieces and fed to the dogs.
Li Qing eyed Li Shimin with a knowing look. Tsk tsk… Young Wu was only fourteen. Any younger and she’d be the stuff of rare legends.
“What kind of look is that?” Li Shimin was displeased; he could plainly see the disdain in Li Qing’s gaze.
“Nothing, just admiring your taste, Li Brother.” Li Qing nodded in a mock-serious manner, inwardly mocking Li Shimin.
Li Shimin snorted coldly, straightening up. “Wu Talent entered the palace today, which is no secret. Since you claim to be an immortal, do you have proof?”
He gestured toward the door. Wu Meiniang hesitated, her eyes reddened, biting her lip and casting Li Qing a resentful glance before wisely taking her leave.
Li Qing understood—he’d cut off her chance to serve Li Shimin. Who knew when she’d get another opportunity? Of course Wu Meiniang would hate him.
“Of course I do.” He glanced around for a chair, finding none. “So you’re just going to make me stand?”
“Wang De?” Li Shimin called.
A man stepped from the palace shadows, bowing slightly. “Your Majesty.”
“Bring him a seat,” Li Shimin gestured first to Li Qing, then to the opposite side of the desk.
Wang De produced a brocade cushion from somewhere and placed it beside the desk, then melted back into the shadows without a word.
Li Qing sat down boldly and comfortably upon the cushion.
“So, Li Brother, what would you like to know?”
Li Shimin reclined on the dragon bed, completely at ease. “Since you claim to be an immortal, you should know the future. Why not tell me how the Crown Prince fares after his succession?”
“The Crown Prince? Li Chengqian?” Li Qing waved dismissively. “Don’t ask. He never became emperor. In April of the seventeenth year of Zhenguan, he was deposed for rebellion, stripped of his title, and exiled to Qianzhou. In December of the following year, he died in Qianzhou.”
With every sentence, Li Shimin’s face darkened. By the end, his treasured sword flashed from its sheath, cold steel pressed to Li Qing’s throat.
At the same moment, the system’s prompt sounded.
*Emotion value gained: 470
“Enough! Arrogant knave, where do you find the audacity to curse my son before me? Do you think my sword is not sharp enough?”
Li Shimin was beside himself with rage. Li Chengqian was the legitimate eldest son, born of his most beloved woman, and Li Shimin had cherished him from infancy. Yet this insolent youth dared to utter such dire predictions about his favorite son—Li Shimin’s fury nearly drove him to kill the young man then and there.
Were it not for the bizarre manner of Li Qing’s arrival, he might have done just that.
“You see, you’re getting worked up again.” Li Qing showed no concern for the sword at his throat. “With the mess you arranged for Li Chengqian, even good men would be driven mad…”
Li Shimin snorted, “Li Gang, Yu Zhining, and Kong Yingda are all renowned scholars of the age…”
He was interrupted by Li Qing, “Tell me, who did Li Gang teach?”
“Who?” Li Shimin was thrown by the sudden question.
“During the Sui Dynasty, who was his pupil? And in the early Tang, who did he teach?” Li Qing tapped the desk.
“Yang Yong and Jiancheng,” Li Shimin replied, still unaware of the significance.
“Still don’t get it?” Li Qing tapped the desk with frustration. “What became of Yang Yong and Jiancheng?”
“Their fate…” Li Shimin paused, then drew a sharp breath. “Hiss…”
Suddenly, he understood the crucial connection. For modern people, it might be a joke, but for those of the past, such things were never ignored—they believed in omens.
“See, Li Brother, is that auspicious?” Li Qing sighed, pinching the sword between two fingers and moving it away from his neck. “I don’t know what you were thinking, but even that old Xiao would have been better than this Prince-killer…”
“Prince-killer?” Li Shimin was stunned.
“Including your son, he’s ruined three crown princes.” Li Qing held up three fingers. “Three…”
(End of chapter)