Volume One: Beneath Mount Zhongnan Chapter Thirty-Two: The Great Charlatan of the Tang Dynasty Claims to Be the Reincarnation of a Celestial Being

From that day forward, Li Mingyu's life became a misery. His elder cousin personally supervised his calligraphy practice, demanding he neatly fill fifty sheets with large characters every day before he was allowed to sleep. If he failed, sleep was out of the question. Inwardly, Li Mingyu wailed, Poor me, I’m still just a child! How can you treat me this way? Is there no such thing as basic rights anymore?

On this day, Li Mingyu was scowling and glaring, grinding his teeth as he practiced, the brush in his hand feeling as heavy as a thousand pounds. His elder cousin watched from the side, dissatisfied. “You, child—when it comes to reading, you have a photographic memory, and I hear from your master you’re gifted in martial arts as well. Yet why does writing seem such a struggle for you? Do it again! Put your heart into it! If you don’t improve today, don’t even think about sleeping!”

With a face full of misery, Li Mingyu responded, just about to pick up his brush again, when suddenly his elder cousin covered her mouth and began to gag dryly, though nothing came up. Tears welled up in her eyes from the discomfort.

Li Mingyu was very close to her and knew she truly cared for him—even if she forced him to practice calligraphy and withheld sleep, it was all for his own good. Seeing her retch, he thought she must have eaten something bad. First, he helped her sit down and rest, then hurried off to call Li Shimin and their master.

When the two arrived and heard Mingyu describe what had happened, they exchanged a glance, both harboring the same suspicion but not quite daring to confirm it.

Li Xuanba said, “Second Brother, Sun Simiao the Daoist is also living in the village right now—why don’t we ask him to take a look?”

“That’s a good idea. If Daoist Sun himself can come, there’s nothing better.” Li Shimin, anxious for his wife, nodded in agreement.

Before long, Li Xuanba led Sun Simiao in. The old Daoist was an old family friend, so there was no need for formality with the Li couple. He took his cousin's pulse, stroked his beard, and smiled. “Congratulations, Erlang! In a short while, you will be a father—your cousin is with child.”

Hearing he would soon have a child, Li Shimin was overjoyed and quickly bowed to thank Sun Simiao.

Sun Simiao chuckled, “No need for such courtesy. I’ve known your father for many years; such small matters are hardly worth mentioning. Besides, healing the sick is the duty of an old Daoist like me.”

His cousin, upon learning she was finally pregnant after years of marriage, was overjoyed and thanked Sun Simiao again.

Sun Simiao said, “Young lady, I have a few words for you. Now that you are newly pregnant, you must take good care of yourself and maintain a cheerful mood. I’ll prescribe a calming and protective remedy for you shortly.”

Li Mingyu, hearing the news, was happy for them as well. He wondered to himself, Is this Second Uncle’s first child going to be Li Chengqian? Hmph, that boy is hardly a decent sort—wasn’t he said to have a fondness for men? Later he even rebelled against his own father. It seems none of Li Shimin’s sons turned out well. My cousin has always treated me kindly; should I help her discipline her sons in the future?

Meanwhile, Sun Simiao finished writing the prescription for her and instructed Li Shimin to help her back to her room to rest. Then Sun Simiao sat and chatted idly with Xuanba. Looking up, he spotted two lines of calligraphy hanging prominently in the hall, written by Li Shimin.

The old Daoist praised, “What fine calligraphy! These lines are full of momentum and deep meaning, the brushwork powerful and bold, capturing the very essence of Wang Xizhi’s style. Sanlang, these words don’t seem to be yours, do they?”

Li Xuanba laughed heartily. “The calligraphy is my second brother’s, but the lines themselves are from my disciple.”

“Oh? Mingyu wrote them? No wonder—that makes perfect sense,” Sun Simiao nodded, as if it was only natural that Li Mingyu could speak such wisdom.

“Why do you say that, Daoist?” Li Xuanba was curious, seeing that Sun Simiao was not at all surprised.

“Ha! Your disciple is no ordinary child—he has his own unique insights into medical trauma care and battlefield first aid. A conversation with him broadened even my horizons.” Sun Simiao laughed and recounted his earlier medical discussions with Li Mingyu.

Li Xuanba was greatly surprised. “My disciple is that knowledgeable in medicine? I raised him from a young age and never knew.”

Sun Simiao chuckled. “Sanlang, your disciple is indeed extraordinary. His knowledge of Daoist lore is deep—every day he tells the village children stories from the Investiture of the Gods, and they’re utterly captivating. I’ve copied his stories and written to an old friend of mine to share them. My friend was amazed, calling them exquisite, otherworldly. That a young child could be so familiar with Daoist legends, able to recount them so easily, is a marvel indeed. He sighed that there truly are those in the world who are born with knowledge; this boy must have an extraordinary background.”

Li Xuanba, intrigued, asked, “Who is this master that holds my humble disciple in such high regard? And what does it mean to be ‘born with knowledge’?”

Sun Simiao replied, “My friend is a true Daoist adept, deeply versed in the mysteries of fate and fortune-telling. I’m sure you’ve heard his name: Yuan Shoucheng.”

Then Sun Simiao stroked his beard and explained, “As for being ‘born with knowledge’—do you know, in Buddhism there are reincarnated spirit boys, and in Daoism, the cycle of rebirth and transformation. Some eminent monks and Daoist adepts, after suffering calamity in a past life, must be reborn into this world. They carry innate wisdom from birth; to say they hear one and understand ten is not enough to describe their intelligence—they master skills without formal study, simply by intuition. I told my friend Yuan Tiangang all about your disciple—though he has not seen the boy’s face, from my descriptions and analysis of his behavior, Yuan Tiangang believes Mingyu is the reincarnation of a celestial star spirit! As to which one, he says it’s impossible to say for now—he’d have to meet the boy in person and read his bones to know for sure.”

Li Xuanba was astounded to hear this. Recalling the strange signs when he adopted Li Mingyu in the mountains, he was half convinced, half in doubt, and recounted the events to Sun Simiao.

Sun Simiao, although an accomplished physician, was still a Daoist and so naturally accepted such mysterious matters. He agreed, “If that’s the case, then Yuan Shoucheng’s guess is right—an auspicious sign at birth, accompanied by a black tiger. Your disciple is destined for greatness!”

Li Mingyu, listening to them talk, found it increasingly absurd that they were so convinced he was a reincarnated immortal. He couldn’t help but laugh inwardly. Yuan Shoucheng? Wasn’t he the one who beheaded the Old Dragon of Jinghe in Journey to the West? Yuan Tiangang’s uncle, author of the Prophecy of the Back-Pushing Diagram?

The whole family were famous mystical figures of the Tang. Could their words really be trusted? The reason I’m “born with knowledge” is because I came from the future, not because I’m some reincarnated immortal. But if they believe this, with Yuan Tiangang’s reputation as a mystical seer, at least they won’t burn me at the stake for being a monster. And in the future, if I come up with strange ideas or inventions, it’ll all make sense.

Just then, as he was lost in thought, a clatter of hooves sounded outside. The curtain was lifted, and Changsun Wuji, sweating and breathless, burst in, exclaiming, “Where’s Erlang? Where is he? Go fetch him quickly! This is a golden opportunity, a heaven-sent chance!”

Li Shimin, hearing someone call for him, came out from the inner room and saw Changsun Wuji. In high spirits, he teased, “Wuji, weren’t you in Chang’an? How is it that just as Guan Yin has found out she’s pregnant, you come running in such a hurry? Do you have eyes that see a thousand miles and ears that hear the wind from afar?”

“What pregnancy? Guan Yin is expecting?” Changsun Wuji was delighted at the news, but quickly recovered, saying seriously, “I only just heard it from you. I’m here on urgent business! As soon as I got the news, I didn’t dare delay and rushed to tell you so you could make plans.”

Settling himself, Changsun Wuji continued, “Didn’t you ask me to keep a close eye on Xue Ju’s movements? Well, I’ve received reliable word—since his victory, Xue Ju has been busy crowning himself emperor, dividing titles, and neglecting further conquest. Suddenly, a few days ago, he died of a sudden illness, and his son Xue Rengao has inherited the throne. Now, with Western Qin in a period of transition, this is our best opportunity!”

Li Shimin’s face grew serious. “Is the source reliable? Does anyone else know?”

Changsun Wuji replied, “Don’t worry. I’m absolutely certain, and I’ve already arranged for trusted men to intercept any messengers heading to Chang’an. It should buy us three to five days.”

At this, Li Shimin threw his head back and laughed. “Heaven truly aids me! This is a heaven-sent chance to destroy Western Qin! Wuji, you’re thorough as always—good! As long as you can delay the news a few days, and I return to Chang’an to plot and reclaim my command, ha! Western Qin, Xue family—the day our army marches is the day your nation falls and you are destroyed. It is also the day I, Li Shimin, wash away my disgrace!”

Changsun Wuji laughed as well, echoing, “A heaven-sent opportunity, and now Guan Yin is expecting—today, Erlang, you have double happiness!”

Li Shimin nodded. “Military affairs brook no delay. I must return to Chang’an at once. Wuji, you and Guan Yin travel more slowly—she’s pregnant now, be sure to take great care on the road!”

Without further delay, Li Shimin bid farewell to everyone and galloped off toward Chang’an.

After Li Shimin departed, Changsun Wuji arranged a donkey cart in the village, wrapping his sister up securely, and personally escorted her back to Chang’an at a gentle pace.

After all, what kind of hero was Li Shimin? How could he be so easily defeated or give up? Throughout his life, he had an uncanny knack for seizing opportunities in war. When he first returned to Chang’an after his defeat, he sensed the political winds shifting at court and prepared for both outcomes: on one hand, he instructed Changsun Wuji to discreetly place scouts to watch Xue Ju; on the other, seeing his elder brother unite the court against him, he took the opportunity to withdraw from the center of the storm.

If Xue Ju had pressed his victory and advanced on Chang’an, Li Shimin would have had the chance to fight back against Western Qin. He knew that with Tang newly established and generals like Murong Luohou and Liu Hongji captured, there was no one else capable of leading the armies—surely Li Jiancheng, as crown prince, could not go himself?

The crown prince could not easily take command, the third brother had been sent into hiding, the fourth was still a child, and Princess Pingyang, despite her talent, was still a woman. The only one both capable and trusted enough by Li Yuan to be given military power was Li Shimin himself. So, if Xue Ju came, Li Shimin could rise again.

If Xue Ju sat idle, Li Shimin would bide his time and wait for an opportunity. If the worst came to pass, at least he could preserve his own life. So when Li Shimin spoke of wanting to retire to the mountains, it was only half true—he was waiting to see what Xue Ju would do. And no matter how things played out, as long as Li Yuan was on the throne, Li Shimin would always have his day.