Chapter 3: This Family Will Take the Throne

The steward's name was Zhou, a man of about fifty with a wispy goatee on his chin. As he inspected the copied manuscripts, he held the corner of the paper between two fingers, as if handling something filthy.

"This handwriting," Steward Zhou tossed the paper back onto the desk. "Crooked lines, sloppy strokes. Is this really the best Shen Jiu's son can do?"

Shen Ke stood by the desk, keeping his mouth shut.

"I'm talking to you."

"I heard you," Shen Ke said. "My old man's handwriting is great; mine sucks. That's on me, not him."

Steward Zhou choked back a retort and raised his eyelids to glare at him.

"Copy another twenty sheets," Zhou said. "And don't even think about eating until they're done."

Shen Ke scooped up the stack of paper, turned to leave, then hesitated.

"Uncle Zhou," he changed his tone, "have you actually seen my old man's handwriting?"

Steward Zhou's hand paused over his abacus.

"Who in this estate hasn't?" he said. "Why ask?"

"My mother passed away when I was little, and my old man kicked the bucket so suddenly he didn't leave a single scrap of paper behind," Shen Ke said. "I wanted to copy his style, but I just can't get the hang of it."

Steward Zhou's hand slowed down.

"If you can't get the hang of it, don't bother," he said. "Everyone has their own lot in life."

Shen Ke wanted to press further, but Steward Zhou had already buried his head back in the ledger, refusing to look at him again.

Well, that's a dead end.

Shen Ke walked out carrying the paper just as the sun cleared the eaves. In the courtyard, a servant was splashing water over the bluestone pavement, sending a wave of humid heat rising into the air.

"Shen Ke!"

A shout echoed from over the wall, and an instant later, a head popped up. Li Shimin was gripping the top of the wall, holding a bow in one hand, sweat pouring down his forehead.

"Are you done copying yet?"

"Twenty sheets short."

"Stop copying. Get over here."

"The steward said no food until I'm finished."

"I've got flatbread right here." Li Shimin pulled half a Hu flatbread from his tunic and tossed it across the wall. "Catch."

Shen Ke scrambled to catch it. The bread was still warm, and the grease had soaked right through the paper.

"Second Young Master," Shen Ke said, holding up the bread. "If this manuscript gets any dirtier, I'm genuinely going to starve today."

"You won't starve." Li Shimin vaulted off the wall, stumbling slightly upon landing before catching his balance. "My old man is back today, so there's a banquet tonight. I've already told the kitchens to save you a portion."

Shen Ke took a bite of the flatbread.

"Your old man is back, and you aren't going out to the gates to welcome him?"

"Welcome him for what? It's not like it's the first time." Li Shimin wiped away some sweat. "I'm asking you—that thing you mentioned last time, about the Türks being afraid of fire. Tell me more."

Shen Ke chewed his bread and squatted down by the base of the wall. Li Shimin crouched down right beside him, resting his bow across his knees.

"The Türks ride horses and make camp at night without even unsaddling," Shen Ke said. "What are they afraid of? They're afraid the camp will catch fire, the horses will bolt, and their whole army will scatter."

"I get that part."

"Understanding it and knowing how to use it are two different things." Shen Ke broke off a piece of bread. "A place like Yanmen has high walls, but the garrison is tiny. If ten thousand Türk cavalry swarm the place, you can't beat them in a straight fight."

"Then what do you do?"

"Put on a bluff," Shen Ke said. "Plant extra flags along the city walls at night, dress up straw dummies in armor, and line them up behind the battlements. Then have the soldiers march back and forth carrying torches, and keep the gongs and drums beating."

Li Shimin's eyes lit up.

"The Türks can't see clearly in the dark, so they'll assume the city is packed with troops," Shen Ke said. "They're here to pillage, not to die. The second they realize it's not an easy win, they'll pull back on their own."

Li Shimin stayed silent for a long moment.

"Where did you learn this stuff?" he suddenly asked.

"I..." Shen Ke swallowed his bite of bread. "My old man used to be stationed on the frontier. I heard him talk about it."

"Didn't your old man—"

"I just daydreamed it up," Shen Ke cut him off. "Read it in some books and added my own ideas. Don't take it too seriously, Second Young Master."

Li Shimin stared at him for a moment, then suddenly chuckled.

"You know," he said, "you've got a lot of sneaky ideas."

"These are proper, legitimate strategies."

"Legitimate strategies are still ideas." Li Shimin slung his bow over his shoulder. "Come on, let's head to the back courtyard. I want to test them out on some straw dummies."

Just as the two of them stood up, a group of people rounded the moon gate.

Li Jiancheng walked in the lead, wearing a green robe with a jade belt around his waist, followed by two servants. He wasn't walking fast, but the servants in the courtyard bowed their heads and stepped aside the moment they saw him.

"Erlang," Li Jiancheng stopped. "Father will be here soon, and you're still messing around in the back courtyard."

Li Shimin hid his bow behind his back.

"I was practicing archery."

"Practicing archery up on the wall?" Li Jiancheng glanced at the wall. "What kind of sight is that?"

"Big Brother sure likes to poke his nose into everything."

Li Jiancheng didn't take the bait, shifting his gaze to Shen Ke.

Shen Ke was still holding half a piece of flatbread in his hand.

"Shen Ke," Li Jiancheng said. "I had people look into what happened to your old man."

Shen Ke's heart tightened, but his expression stayed completely neutral.

"And what did they find?"

"They dug up a few things," Li Jiancheng said. "Though this isn't the right time to talk about it."

He took a couple of steps forward, then stopped.

"On the road to Yanmen, you'll be following Erlang. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut," Li Jiancheng said. "Some words, if you say the wrong thing, a beating won't even begin to cover it."

Shen Ke lowered his head. "Understood."

Li Jiancheng glanced at him once more and walked away.

Only after his older brother was out of earshot did Li Shimin mutter a curse under his breath.

"What's his problem?"

"No idea," Shen Ke said. "Still, Big Brother is right. I should talk less."

"You talk less?" Li Shimin glared at him. "How much did you just say?"

"Wasn't you asking me?"

Li Shimin laughed out of sheer annoyance and aimed a kick at him. Shen Ke sidestepped, and the kick hit empty air.

"Come on. Let's go test those straw dummies."

Against the back wall stood a row of haystacks. Li Shimin had the servants tie up a dozen straw men, dress them in old armor, and prop them up along the top of the wall. Once night fell, he had them light torches. Looking at it from a distance, it really did look a bit like a garrison on watch.

"Not bad," Li Shimin said, putting his hands on his hips. "Looks the part."

"Just looking the part is useless," Shen Ke said. "The Türks have to see it. Someone has to dare stand out on the walls of Yanmen."

"I'll go."

"What do you mean you'll go? How old even are you?"

"I'm sixteen," Li Shimin puffed out his chest. "When Abba was sixteen, he was already leading troops."

Shen Ke didn't take the bait.

Sixteen—back in his modern world, a kid still half-grown. But in this day and age, plenty of sixteen-year-olds were swinging sabers to take heads.

"Second Young Master," Shen Ke said, "once we actually get to Yanmen, do me a favor and listen to my advice."

"Speak."

"Don't try to be a hero."

Li Shimin blinked, then burst out laughing.

"You've got some nerve saying that."

A sudden commotion broke out in the front courtyard.

"They're here, they're here—" someone shouted.

Li Shimin jammed his torch straight into the dirt and bolted. Shen Ke scrambled after him, running so fast his shoes nearly flew off.

Li Yuan was standing on the front steps, caked in travel dust and still wearing his armor. He was tall with broad shoulders; just standing there made the dozens of people in the courtyard look a head shorter.

"Abba!" Li Shimin rushed to the base of the steps.

Li Yuan looked down at him.

"You've grown again." He reached out and pressed a heavy hand on Li Shimin's shoulder. "How's your archery practice?"

"Every single day."

"Good," Li Yuan said. "On the road to Yanmen, stick close to me. Don't run off."

"I won't run off," Li Shimin said. "Abba, I've got an idea—"

Li Yuan raised an eyebrow.

"Let's hear it."

Li Shimin glanced back at Shen Ke.

Shen Ke felt his heart skip a beat.

*Don't. Don't say it now.*

"The Türks set up camp at night, and they're afraid of fire," Li Shimin rattled off quickly. "When we get to Yanmen, we can plant extra flags on the city walls at night, dress the straw men in armor, and carry torches back and forth so they think the city is packed with troops—"

Li Yuan didn't speak.

The courtyard went dead silent.

Standing among the crowd, Shen Ke felt sweat trickling down the back of his neck, drop by drop.

Li Yuan's gaze drifted away from his son's face, swept across the courtyard, and finally landed squarely on Shen Ke.

"Who taught you this?" Li Yuan asked.

Li Shimin turned and pointed a finger. "Him."

Dozens of pairs of eyes snapped over in unison.

Shen Ke's knees went weak.

"What's your name?" Li Yuan asked.

"Sh-Shen Ke."

"Whose boy?"

"Shen Jiu's," Li Shimin blurted out first. "The one who used to serve in the manor."

Li Yuan's eyebrows twitched.

"Shen Jiu." He repeated the name as if trying to recall something. "His son is already this big?"

Shen Ke kept his head down, staring at the mud caked on the toe of his shoe.

"Was this your idea?" Li Yuan asked.

"It was the Second Young Master's own idea," Shen Ke said. "I just... chimed in with a couple of thoughts."

"Chimed in with a couple of thoughts and managed to flesh it out like that?"

Shen Ke didn't dare answer.

Li Yuan suddenly laughed.

"Fine," he said. "Starting tomorrow, you'll follow Erlang. You can stop copying books."

Shen Ke looked up.

"Abba," Li Shimin beat him to it, shouting out, "for real?"

"For real." Li Yuan turned and walked toward the main hall, but after two steps he looked back. "Shen Ke."

"Here."

"Your old man had a fine hand for calligraphy back in the day," Li Yuan said. "How's your handwriting?"

Shen Ke thought of his own atrocious scrawl that looked like earthworms crawling across paper.

"...Not great."

Li Yuan let out a hearty laugh and stepped into the main hall.

The crowd in the courtyard began to disperse. Li Shimin threw an arm around Shen Ke's shoulder and pulled him in so hard he started coughing.

"Did you hear that!" Li Shimin crowed. "No more copying books!"

"I heard it, I heard it, let go, you're choking me—"

That night, Shen Ke lay in his little room, tossing and turning.

No more copying books.

A salted fish turning over—well, halfway over, anyway.

Yet Li Yuan's utterance of "Shen Jiu," his remark about "fine handwriting," coupled with Li Jianchen's line about "getting something out of him," all tangled together in a messy knot in his head.

Shen Ke climbed out of bed, felt around in the dark to spread a sheet of paper on the table, dipped a finger in some leftover tea, and began to write.

First he wrote "Yanmen," then "Türks," and after a moment's thought, he added "Shen Jiu."

The tea soaked into the paper, and the characters blurred into formless smudges.

Footsteps sounded outside the window.

Shen Ke flipped the paper over, pressing it flat against the table.

The door creaked open an inch, and Li Shimin poked his head in.

"Not asleep?"

"I was."

"If you were asleep, why'd you answer?" Li Shimin squeezed himself inside and plopped down right on the edge of the bed. "Let me tell you something."

"What is it?"

"My abba is going into the palace tomorrow," Li Shimin lowered his voice. "I listened to him talking to someone for half the night."

"What did they say?"

"Didn't catch all of it," Li Shimin said. "Just heard one line."

The tension wire in Shen Ke's chest snapped taut.

"What line?"

Li Shimin leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a whisper:

"My abba said, this empire—"

Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside, fast and hurried, nothing like a servant's tread.

Li Shimin instantly clamped his mouth shut.

The footsteps passed right by the door and headed straight for the main hall.

After a short while, the sound of a door opening drifted from the front courtyard, accompanied by low murmurs too faint to make out.

Li Shimin stood up, walked to the door, and pressed his eye against the crack, looking out.

"It's people from the palace," he said.

Shen Ke stood up as well.

"This late?"

"Yeah."

The two of them stood in the darkness, neither speaking. The noises from the front courtyard came in fits and starts, suddenly spiking in volume before dropping back down.

A long time passed. The footsteps sounded again, this time heading outward. The main gate opened, then shut.

And then the lights in the main hall stayed on for the entire rest of the night.

Early the next morning, the news spread through the entire manor.

Shen Ke heard about it in the kitchen. Old Chen, who did the cooking, was kneading dough while chatting away with someone.

"Hear the news? Word from the palace is something's gone down at Yanmen, and the Emperor's been surrounded by the Türks."

The bowl in Shen Ke's hands almost slipped.

—The Siege of Yanmen. Earlier than in history?

His mind raced.

"What about our estate—" someone asked.

"Our estate's going to rescue the Emperor," Old Chen said. "The Master got the imperial decree in the middle of the night."

Shen Ke set the bowl down and turned to walk out.

In front of the main hall, Li Yuan had already changed into his court robes, and Li Shimin was standing at the foot of the steps, also dressed in fresh attire.

"Father," Li Shimin said, "I'm going too."

Li Yuan looked at him.

"Go," he said. "It's time you saw some of the world."

Li Shimin turned around, caught sight of Shen Ke instantly, and beckoned to him.

Shen Ke walked over.

"You're coming too," Li Shimin said.

Shen Ke blinked, stunned.

Li Yuan overheard from the side and turned to look at him.

"Shen Ke."

"Here."

"Your father followed me to the borderlands back in the day," Li Yuan said. "Now you'll follow Erlang on a trip to Yanmen."

He paused.

"Don't disgrace your father."

Shen Ke lowered his head and acknowledged the order.

—But when he raised his head and saw the silhouette of Li Yuan turning away, he suddenly remembered the sentence Li Shimin hadn't finished the night before.

This realm...

What?

The doors of the main hall were wide open, enshrining the ancestral spirit tablets of the Li family. Li Yuan walked over, lit three sticks of incense, and stood there without moving.

Shen Ke watched from afar, his heart skipping a beat.

When Li Yuan bowed, his back bent deeper than usual.

Half of the incense had burned down, the smoke drifting straight upward.

Li Shimin shouted from the front, "Shen Ke, let's move!"

Shen Ke called back, lifted his feet to catch up, and glanced back one last time as he reached the second courtyard gate.

At that moment, a thought popped into his head that startled even himself:

This family was going to take the ascension sooner or later.