Chapter 109: A Hair-Raising Possibility

“Are you Li Guo’er?”

Wu Ning’s abrupt question left the two children momentarily startled. They had never expected the innkeeper to ask something so rash.

What they did not know was that, even setting aside the fact that Wu Ning had watched Li Guo’er being born, by blood alone he was also the uncle of both children.

Seeing that they were still so young, Old Ninth Wu did not bother with too many formalities.

At that moment, Li Guo’er instinctively hid behind the boy. Her large eyes darted toward Wu Ning as she asked in a childish voice, “How do you know my name?”

Wu Ning smiled. The little girl was as delicate as a porcelain doll, perhaps even cuter, and a little younger than Qiao’er.

“Because everyone knows that His Highness the Prince of Luling has an adorable little princess.”

Unexpectedly, the little girl pouted. “That’s not right. I’m a commandery princess.”

Still clutching the boy’s robe, she refused to come out.

“My father is a prince. You mustn’t speak to me like that.”

“...”

Wu Ning was speechless. The little girl certainly had an attitude.

The boy bowed to Wu Ning and said, “My sister rarely meets strangers. Please do not take offense, young sir.”

Wu Ning gave an embarrassed laugh and shook his head. What could he possibly take offense at from a child of four or five?

He looked up at the boy and was surprised. The child appeared to be not yet ten years old, but his speech and manner were exceptionally courteous, carrying more than a hint of imperial bearing.

While returning to his room to retrieve a clay-sealed earthenware jar, Wu Ning chatted casually with the boy.

“May I ask your name, young master?”

The boy bowed. “I am of the Li family. My name is Chongrun.”

“Li Chongrun?”

Wu Ning thought to himself: So this was Li Xian’s eldest son, originally named Li Chongzhao.

Unfortunately, only a few months earlier, the old lady Wu had apparently decided that her original name, Wu Meiniang, was not imposing enough. She had ordered the Secretariat Officer Zong Qinke to fabricate twelve new characters for her, choosing one of them—an unusual character pronounced “Zhao”—as her name.

Just listen to that: the sun and moon suspended in the heavens, forming the word “Zhao.” The old woman certainly had a flair for grandiosity.

The old lady was pleased, but Li Chongzhao was the unlucky one. The “zhao” in his name sounded the same as hers, and therefore had to be avoided out of reverence. He had no choice but to change his name to Li Chongrun.

Wu Ning chuckled to himself as he thought about it. The old woman had chosen an overbearing name, and she herself was overbearing enough to interfere even with the name of her own grandson.

He went to the kitchen to ask for two bowls, then brought the children to sit somewhere nearby.

Li Guo’er poked her head out and watched as Wu Ning broke the clay seal on the jar.

“Is it wine? Father won’t let Guo’er drink wine.”

Wu Ning laughed even more. “Of course it isn’t wine. It’s sour milk. Would you like some?”

Hearing that it was yogurt, Guo’er grew bolder and edged closer to the jar.

“Sour milk is good. Guo’er likes sour milk best.”

“But...” The little girl was puzzled again. “Why is sour milk sealed up?”

“Because the sour milk in my house is the only one in the entire Great Tang.”

It was fruit-flavored yogurt made by preserving fresh fruit after autumn. Unlike thin milk, it did not spoil easily. After fermenting through half the winter, the fruit’s flavor had completely blended into it. It ought to be exactly the sort of thing children Li Guo’er and Li Chongrun’s age would love most.

As he spoke, Wu Ning ladled a bowl from the jar, added honey, and handed it to Li Guo’er.

“Try it.”

Li Guo’er was intensely curious. It was her first time eating yogurt with a spoon.

She glanced at Li Chongrun. Only after her elder brother nodded did she pick up the spoon and place a little in her mouth.

Her eyes immediately lit up.

“It’s delicious.”

Wu Ning filled another bowl and handed it to Li Chongrun.

“Would you like to try some too?”

Seeing how sweetly his sister was eating, Li Chongrun was eager to taste it himself. After all, he was still a child.

Even so, he bowed deeply to Wu Ning.

“Thank you, young sir!”

Only then did he lower his head and begin eating.

Wu Ning smiled faintly.

In truth, he knew perfectly well that neither Li Guo’er nor Li Chongrun would remain as sensible and courteous after reaching adulthood.

Li Guo’er’s cruelty and arrogance would be no less than that of Princess Taiping or Consort Wei.

And Li Chongrun was not quite as well-behaved as he appeared, either. Otherwise, he would never have provoked the old lady Wu’s male favorite and brought disaster upon himself.

Yet Li Xian’s status as a deposed emperor, together with the twisted family environment in which they lived, meant that both children had faced the threat of death from the moment they were born.

Li Xian’s circumstances had only just begun to improve. Heaven alone knew what kind of fear-filled existence this family had endured over the past five years.

Children might be ignorant, but they were also the most sensitive of all. Beneath this humility and timidity was not genuine courtesy, but fear.

That made it easy to understand why the future Li Guo’er would become so warped.

Wu Ning thought of himself. Had his own childhood in this life not been the same?

Had it not been stifling and twisted as well?

He glanced unconsciously toward the other end of the courtyard, where Li Xian and the Wu brothers were laughing and talking, while Princess Taiping sat beside them, visibly out of place.

He could not help giving a bitter smile.

What kind of childhood was this supposed to be?

“I’ll never know peace for the rest of my life. I suppose I’m tied to you lot forever.”

...

After all this time, Wu Ning had already made up his mind.

He could not ignore his origins, and he certainly could not stand by while his birth mother, the He Lan clanswoman, died such a tragic death. But the way he intended to handle it differed greatly from what He Lan Minzhi had imagined.

To put it plainly, being the son of Emperor Gaozong was no blessing for Wu Ning.

He Lan Minzhi wanted to use that identity to avenge the He Lan family—and to avenge the face that had been ruined.

“...”

Did He Lan Minzhi think Wu Ning was an idiot?

That woman was Wu Zetian. If she caught hold of him, would anything good come of it?

Old Ninth Wu had already considered the matter carefully.

If his mother’s death had nothing to do with Wu Zetian, and he managed to discover who was responsible, then the solution would be simple: somehow expose the truth to Wu Zetian.

It would be best if the old lady dealt with the matter herself. Even if she refused to act, with Wu Ning’s abilities, bringing down the enemy who had poisoned his mother should not be difficult.

But if his mother’s death had truly been caused by the old lady Wu...

Then things were even simpler.

He would wait for death.

Wu Ning admitted that, in every respect, he could never be a match for that old woman.

...

Of course, that was only a joke.

In fact, by that very day, Wu Ning had all but confirmed that Wu Zetian had not been responsible for his birth mother’s death.

The reason was simple:

He was still alive.

Others might have thought that reason absurd, but Wu Ning did not find it strange in the least.

From the very beginning, there had been one question he could never resolve, one thing he had never been able to understand.

Ever since the old lady had first rewarded him with fifty pounds of copper cash, that doubt had remained lodged in his heart, impossible to explain.

...

Thinking back on everything that had happened after Princess Taiping arrived in Fangzhou, one thing was beyond doubt:

Wu Zetian knew every movement that took place there with absolute clarity.

She knew about Old Daoist Xiao, Meng Cangsheng, Wu Ning himself, and the conversation Taiping had held during her first visit to the Temple of Inquiry.

She even knew, in exhaustive detail, about Wu Sansi’s visit to the temple that day and his conversation with Old Daoist Xiao, despite being thousands of miles away.

That was why, afterward, the Empress Dowager had issued an edict rewarding Wu Ning for his apparent role in the affair.

But why had she rewarded him?

On the surface, it was because of what Wu Ning had said about “the suffering of the people.”

Yet the more he thought about it, the less logical it seemed.

Would that not amount to openly telling Taiping, Wu Sansi, and Wu Ning that she was watching them?

I know everything you say in private—and I am issuing a reward because the things you said in private pleased me greatly?

The reward might have appeared reasonable, but was it really?

At first, Wu Ning thought the old woman had simply become carried away and let something slip. Or perhaps she did not actually know what had been said at the Temple of Inquiry or in Wu Ning’s home. Perhaps Taiping, Wu Sansi, or someone else had merely repeated the parts she liked hearing.

That was not impossible. In fact, it was highly plausible.

Wu Sansi might have ingratiated himself with the old lady, while Taiping might have coquettishly reported a few details to her mother. Either of them could have leaked something about what was happening in Fangzhou.

But the second incident that followed immediately afterward completely shattered Wu Ning’s naïve assumption.

Taiping could never have told Wu Zetian about the letter she had written to Li Xian. Nor could she have been foolish enough to tell Wu Zetian that she had specifically sought her advice on how to maintain harmony between the Wu and Li families.

In fact, Wu Ning had deliberately asked Taiping about it and confirmed that she had told Wu Zetian nothing.

That left only one possibility:

The old lady Wu’s informants truly were everywhere. She really could know everything.

That was why, after learning that Wu Ning had intercepted Taiping’s letter to Li Xian, she had him beaten.

...

But was there another possibility?

Perhaps the old lady had used that beating to make Wu Ning understand that he had not merely mishandled Li Xian’s affairs.

Perhaps she had wanted him to understand—

“I really can hear everything.”

...

But why would Wu Zetian want Wu Ning to know that?

It made no sense. She had no reason, and certainly no spare time, to convey such a message to a mountain boy from Fangzhou.

The question reached that point and then hung there, unresolved. It could not be explained, nor could it be put in order.

Only recently had Wu Ning thought of one possible answer. The instant it surfaced in his mind, it nearly frightened him into turning around and fleeing to the ends of the earth.

...

That possibility rested on several prerequisites.

First, Wu Zetian’s reach was limitless.

Before her, the supposed private conversations of Wu Ning, Taiping, Wu Sansi, and Wu Chengsi were no private conversations at all. The old lady had already proved that twice.

Second, Wu Zetian seemed extraordinarily interested in Wu Ning—at the very least, far more interested than she was in an ordinary commoner.

Third, Wu Ning was still alive.

Now imagine it: under those three conditions, could the supposedly secret conversations of Wu Ning and the others truly remain secret?

If even a conversation attended by the two masters Meng Cangsheng and Daoist Xiao could reach Wu Zetian’s ears, what kind of private conversation could possibly escape her?

And if no such secrecy existed, then when He Lan Minzhi revealed Wu Ning’s origins to him, might the old lady Wu have learned that Wu Ning was the son of Emperor Gaozong and her own niece?

If that was also true, would Wu Zetian really allow this common-born prince to come looking for revenge?

Yet Wu Ning was still alive. Combined with Wu Zetian’s previous interest in him...

There seemed to be only one possible conclusion:

Wu Zetian had known for a long time that He Lan Minzhi was hiding there. She had known for a long time who Wu Ning truly was.

...

Was that not terrifying?

When Old Ninth Wu thought of this possibility, every hair on his body stood on end. He had nearly turned and run.

How was he supposed to contend with an opponent like that?

How could he possibly defeat her?

...

I fell ill and spent a day and a night in bed. It felt as though a breath had lodged in my chest, unable to rise or fall, leaving my head aching from the pressure.

Updates may be a little slower.

Also, a preview:

It is almost time.

Nearly all the groundwork has been laid. Only the ending remains.

And then...

Then Old Ninth Wu, this husky, is truly going to become a mastiff.