Chapter 50: Entering the Palace, Asking Questions

Autumn wind stirred, leaves turned yellow, and Zhao Ti entered the Jingji Road.

He spent one night in Zhuxian Town and returned to Dongjingcheng by midday the next day.

The capital was now at its busiest, every household preparing for the Mid-Autumn Festival.

The Mid-Autumn Festival took shape in the early Han and Jin dynasties, and its date was fixed during the Tang dynasty, as recorded in the Tang Shu under Emperor Taizong: “Mid-Autumn Festival on the fifteenth day of the eighth month.”

By the Song dynasty, it was promoted nationwide: the court took a holiday, shops sold new wine, the people hung lanterns and decorated with colorful banners, erected ornate pavilions, adorned poles with embroidered silk depicting drunken immortals, and baked small cakes filled with various ingredients—cakes that tasted like chewing the moon, with butter and malt inside, the prototype of mooncakes.

Zhao Ti sat in his carriage, watching the bustling scene, pondering how he might find a way into the palace.

He was under house arrest, and the Empress Dowager Gao had many spies in the palace; if he entered, they would surely notify the Grand Council of the Imperial Clan, who would then question him and bring the matter before the court.

Given Emperor Zhao Xu’s disposition, he was a close blood relative of Empress Dowager Gao and might indeed impose some punishment.

Zhao Ti smiled inside the carriage—this elder brother of his was now isolated at court, his grand ambitions stifled; perhaps he even longed for Gao Taotao’s death, so he could take personal control and realize his ambitions.

The carriage did not enter through the main gate of the Wang Fu but slipped in quietly through a side entrance; the steward Zheng Fu and Bai Zhan hurried out, delighted, to greet him.

Zhao Ti asked: “What has happened these past months?”

Bai Zhan said: “Seventh Brother has stabilized the situation inside and outside the city; the remaining gangs now look to the Golden Wind and Fine Rain Pavilion as their leader.”

Zheng Fu said: “My Lord, I saw Tong Guan a few days ago—he said Li Dahuan has passed away.”

“Li Xian is gone?” Zhao Ti pondered slightly: “What did the court say?”

Zheng Fu replied: “They granted him posthumously the title of Military Commissioner of Wutai Army, with the posthumous name Zhongmin.”

Zhao Ti said: “So quickly?”

Li Xian was a disgraced minister; granting him posthumous honors and a title should not have happened so soon.

“My Lord, Tong Guan said that before his death, Li Xian entered the palace once—at the Empress Dowager’s summons.”

Zhao Ti nodded—Gao Taotao must have wanted to verify something; Li Xian’s answers satisfied her, so she expedited the posthumous procedures. Zhongmin was a posthumous name applicable to both civil and military officials, and among the mid-tier honors, it was on the higher side.

“By the way, My Lord…” Zheng Fu suddenly lowered his voice.

“What else?” Zhao Ti asked.

“Your servant heard Tong Daofu say that the Empress… seems ill.” Zheng Fu whispered.

“The Empress is ill?” Zhao Ti’s expression grew grave: “Go to the treasury and select gifts—not expensive useless trinkets, but only medicinal herbs that prolong life and enhance health. Take two men with you to the palace and deliver them, saying I am under house arrest, deeply worried for Great Empress Dowager, unable to see her, unable to eat or sleep, and I beg for an imperial edict permitting me to enter the palace to pay my respects.”

“Yes, My Lord!” Zheng Fu bowed and turned away.

Zhao Ti went to his study; a maid brought him a pot of Xiao Long Tuan tea. He drank as he reviewed the events of the past months—nothing major had been overlooked.

In the afternoon, Zheng Fu returned with an imperial edict: “My Lord, I saw the Empress Dowager’s face—terribly pale. She said not a single word the entire time. When I mentioned Your Lordship’s request, it was the female attendant beside her who took the pen and wrote.”

Zhao Ti took the edict and examined it, then nodded. Though it did not explicitly lift his house arrest, it granted him permission to travel freely between the palace and the Wang Fu—practically the same as lifting it, and it even spared the Grand Council of the Imperial Clan face.

He ordered Zheng Fu to prepare, then bathed and changed his clothes, tucked the edict into his sleeve, and exited through the main gate of the Wang Fu, heading straight for the imperial palace.

It was now the hour of Shen, and Zhao Ti entered the palace through the Left Ye Gate, heading toward Cining Palace.

At the palace entrance, the eunuch on guard bowed and said: “Prince Yan, the Empress Dowager has ordered that you enter directly without announcement.”

Zhao Ti nodded; a young palace maid stepped forward, her delicate steps leading him inside.

But this time it was different—she led him to another room, devoid of tall bookshelves or grand furnishings; instead, it held ordinary, aged objects, each bearing the marks of years.

Gao Taotao sat behind a writing desk, eyes closed, a female attendant standing beside her, her face etched with worry.

Zhao Ti saw Gao Taotao’s complexion was extremely poor—bluish-gray, tinged with decay—and he felt a pang of doubt.

His internal cultivation was deep; he sensed this was no ordinary illness, but rather a buildup of yin-cold within her body, damaging her meridians.

“Great Empress Dowager, your grandson comes to pay his respects.”

Gao Taotao said nothing, only slightly opened her eyes. Zhao Ti saw they were clouded with gray, and he froze.

The female attendant stepped out and returned with a bowl of herbal decoction. Gao Taotao drank it, then waved her hand—the attendant withdrew.

“Great Empress Dowager’s illness…” Zhao Ti whispered.

“I have no illness,” Gao Taotao replied, her voice hoarse and weary.

“I have been under house arrest and only just learned of your discomfort, Great Empress Dowager. Please do not blame your grandson for being unfilial in coming to inquire.” Zhao Ti rephrased.

“Eighth Brother, you are thoughtful,” Gao Taotao said coolly. “None of the other brothers or sisters have come to ask after me. Are they all afraid of me? Do they hope I’ll die soon, so they may live more freely, and so the Son of Heaven may grant them titles and promotions?”

“This…” Zhao Ti sensed Gao Taotao’s bitterness; he could not respond to her mention of titles and promotions, so he fell silent.

Originally, during Emperor Shenzong’s reign, the imperial sons could be gradually elevated to princely titles.

But Emperor Shenzong died early; at the time of his death, apart from Zhao Xu, who had been made Prince of Yan’an Commandery, none of his children held a princely title.

When Zhao Xu ascended the throne and changed the era name to Yuanyou, he elevated a few elder brothers to Commandery Princes; according to precedent, full Princes of the Blood were to be granted only after the emperor assumed personal rule.

Gao Taotao had broken precedent by making Zhao Ti Prince of Yan; Empress Xiang, on the other side, had secured for Zhao Ji the title of Prince of Duan. To balance relations, Zhao Xu specially granted Emperor Shenzong’s ninth son, Zhao Bi, the title of Prince of Shen—all because Zhao Ti had been elevated prematurely, so he stopped speaking here.

“Hmph!” Gao Taotao sneered. “Not one of them has a conscience. I’ve worn myself out for the state—must I also manage the affairs of the imperial clan? Must I teach them how to behave?”

“Great Empress Dowager, do not anger yourself,” Zhao Ti said. “Many of the brothers and sisters are still young, their temperaments unformed; naturally, they do not think things through fully. Please do not harm your health over this.”

Gao Taotao looked at Zhao Ti and said softly: “I saw Li Xian before.”

Zhao Ti pressed his lips together, saying nothing.

“Li Xian was very honest,” Gao Taotao’s lips curled with mockery. “When you came to me before, eight-tenths truth and two-tenths lie—did you think I was foolish?”

Zhao Ti smiled awkwardly: “Great Empress Dowager has known me since childhood. You already sensed the exaggerations in my words back then, yet you did not expose them—wasn’t that to support my desire to study martial arts?”

Gao Taotao snorted: “You’ve been rehearsing this flattery to elevate me and silence me, haven’t you?”

Zhao Ti shook his head: “I would never dare. I merely spoke the truth—I never thought you would fail to hear the falsehoods in my words.”

Gao Taotao stared at Zhao Ti for a long while, then said: “I am tired. Do you have anything else?”

Zhao Ti thought a moment: “Great Empress Dowager, I wish to ask one thing.”

“What is it?” Gao Taotao leaned back slightly, sinking into her chair.

Zhao Ti took a breath and said: “Great Empress Dowager, the Grand Ancestor’s Fist circulating inside and outside the palace is said to have thirty-two postures. But I heard it originally had thirty-three—why is one missing?”

At these words, Gao Taotao’s half-closed eyes suddenly snapped fully open: “Eighth Brother, what did you say?”