In the imperial harem, death was not uncommon.
But for the eunuchs serving Li Chengzhen, losing one or two every month was truly bizarre. Shen Wei instructed Cai Ping: "Keep sending people to watch. If another body appears, find a way to intercept it."
Cai Ping nodded: "Rest assured, my lady. This servant has already ordered constant surveillance."
...
...
Several days later, during a day of rest.
The training grounds were bathed in sunlight as Li Yuanjing summoned all his sons. Having ascended the throne four years prior, Li Yuanjing had only one son born within the palace—Li Chengjue, born to Consort Lu Xuan.
But before his reign, the Yan Prince's residence had already housed many sons. Over the years, eight had survived.
Among them were Li Chengzhen, born to the Empress; the Third Prince Li Chengxun, born to Consort Qiao; three sons from other concubines; Li Chengtai and Li Chengyou, born to Noble Consort Shen Wei; and Li Chengjue, born to Consort Lu Xuan.
"Your Majesty, the princes have arrived," De Shun reported respectfully.
All the walking-age princes except Lu Xuan's son had gathered. Li Yuanjing had called them to assess their archery skills and literary knowledge.
Custom-made bows were presented to each prince.
Under a shaded pavilion, Li Yuanjing sipped lotus tea while observing the boys' archery.
The eldest, twelve-year-old Li Chengzhen, drew his bow with practiced ease, the arrow landing steadily on the target.
After ten shots, three struck the bullseye—a commendable performance.
Li Chengzhen set down his bow with pride, stepping aside to accept a cup of cool water from an elderly maid. The Empress and the Tantai family had invested heavily in him, hiring the finest archery and literary tutors from an early age.
Though not naturally gifted, years of relentless practice had made his archery skills exceptional among his peers.
"Second Brother, your archery has improved," Li Chengyou remarked from his small chair, clutching a fresh peach, admiration gleaming in his eyes.
Li Chengzhen scoffed: "Naturally. Far better than a brat like you, still using a child's bow."
Li Chengyou huffed: "I'm only four! When I grow up, I'll definitely surpass you."
Li Chengzhen dismissed the boast with a sneer.
The other princes took their turns. Consort Qiao's son, Li Chengxun, was among the older princes, but his archery was mediocre—only two of ten arrows hit the target.
Flushed with shame, he shrank into a corner, avoiding his father's and brothers' gazes.
Next came the sons of lesser consorts, whose performances were even worse, drawing frequent frowns from Li Yuanjing.
Finally, it was the eight-year-old Li Chengtai's turn. Too small for an adult bow, he wielded a miniature version instead.
Clad in a black-and-gold vest and leather boots, the boy gripped his tiny bow with solemn determination, his expression as serious as a soldier heading to battle.
Draw, release—
Thwack!
The small arrow embedded itself in the target, though far from the center. Undeterred, Li Chengtai adjusted and shot again—
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
All ten arrows landed on the target, with three piercing the bullseye.
"Brother, you're amazing!" Li Chengyou cheered, eyes sparkling with admiration.
Even Li Yuanjing nodded approvingly from afar.
Li Chengzhen's face darkened, his fingers clenching. "A child's bow is useless," he muttered.
Li Chengyou, sharp-eared, pouted at the remark.
Last was the youngest, Li Chengyou. Sturdy and dark-skinned from hearty meals, he accepted his miniature bow with gusto, stretching his neck and wiggling his plump waist before striding onto the field.
Closing his eyes, he gauged the wind's strength, then snapped them open—his gaze as sharp as a hawk's.
Draw, release—
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Six arrows struck the bullseye; the others landed close by—an outstanding feat.
Li Chengyou sauntered up to Li Chengzhen, waving his little bow. "Who said this bow was useless? It's perfect!"
Li Chengzhen: "..."
After his gloating, the boy scampered to Li Yuanjing, tugging his sleeve like an eager kitten. "Father! I hit the bullseye six times! Can I have fried crab tonight?"
Li Yuanjing patted his son's sun-kissed cheek. "Granted."
Gazing at the sturdy little boy, the Emperor saw a reflection of his younger self—a boy who'd sneaked away from studies to practice archery and ride ponies.
Li Chengyou spun in delight, racing off to share the news with Li Chengtai. "Brother, we're having fried crab tonight!"
Li Yuanjing then summoned Li Chengzhen and Li Chengxun.
Rubbing his temples, he chided, "Anguo Temple has drillmasters for archery. How have you two practiced for months without progress?"
The boys stiffened like mice before a cat, especially Consort Qiao's son, who seemed ready to vanish into the ground.
Li Chengzhen stammered, "This son... will train harder."
Li Yuanjing seized his hands, inspecting the palms. "Is this what you call hard work?"
A diligent archer's fingers bore calluses, but Li Chengzhen's were barely marked.
The prince fell silent.
After evaluating archery and horsemanship, Li Yuanjing quizzed the boys on literature. Their knowledge varied wildly—Li Chengtai proved the most learned.
By now, the Emperor understood his sons' capabilities all too well.
...
...
That night, under a stifling, cloud-choked sky, a lone lamp burned in a remote palace study. Li Chengzhen clutched an ancient text, poring over a single page, desperate to decipher its meaning.
The words were arcane, their logic elusive.
Eyes bloodshot, he willed himself to memorize every character—yet the harder he tried, the more they slipped away.
An elderly maid watched with pity. "Your Highness, it's late. Let this servant take you to rest."
Li Chengzhen gripped the book tighter, anguish twisting his voice. "I won't sleep! Why can Li Chengtai master these texts, but I can't?"
