Chapter Seven: Petty Cleverness and Great Wisdom

"Get in!"

Pei Min shivered at the command. Regardless of why Princess Taiping wanted him to board her carriage, in his twenty-first-century context, the phrase "get in" was often associated with "experienced drivers" and rarely signaled anything good.

"This..." Pei Min nudged his chestnut horse closer to the carriage, saying, "Your Highness, I am reeking of alcohol and fear I might soil your carriage. Perhaps we could speak right here?"

Princess Taiping replied softly, "So you truly care about those baseless rumors? If so, I shall have my royal brother issue an edict to clarify the truth. Anyone caught gossiping further will be severely punished. How does that sound?"

Pei Min was so startled he nearly fell from his saddle. Such rumors were merely scandalous trifles, not the kind that harmed the nation or the people, nor were they malicious slanders. These tales, true or false, were merely fodder for idle conversation. Most people only half-believed them, and few took them seriously. However, to make a formal issue of it and use imperial power to silence the populace would only make one appear guilty, effectively confirming the affair. Pei Min did not doubt for a moment that Princess Taiping was capable of such a move, nor did he doubt that she had calculated his surrender. In the art of manipulating hearts, she was almost too formidable. In their few encounters, he felt like the Monkey King trapped within the Buddha's palm, unable to escape.

"Your Highness, you jest," Pei Min said, straightening up. "An upright person fears no shadow. If you do not mind, why should I care so much? Since you are so gracious, I shall obey." He handed the reins to a waiting maid and climbed into the carriage with a heavy heart.

As he stepped inside, a faint, elegant scent of powder greeted him. It was fragrant without being cloying, refreshing rather than piercing. If Princess Taiping’s natural allure were a ninety, this scent added at least another twenty points.

The carriage was exceptionally spacious, easily accommodating two people. Pei Min caught a glimpse of the Princess, who wore a radiant smile, exuding the alluring, mature charm of a woman at the height of her beauty. Though he tried to suppress his wandering thoughts, the subtle fragrance and the sight of the peach-blossom-bright beauty before him made his heart race, leaving him feeling strangely parched.

Princess Taiping watched him with a hint of amusement, feeling quite satisfied. The fact that she could still captivate a young hero like Pei Min gave her a sense of lingering youth and beauty. She smiled brightly and said, "Do not be so restrained. All of Chang'an is currently buzzing with rumors that you are the incarnation of both the literary and martial stars, possessing the divine talents of both. That is far more impressive than the reputation of a royal descendant like myself."

Having just sobered up from his hangover, Pei Min was unaware of this gossip. He shook his head with a bitter smile, "Your Highness, you mock me. How can such street rumors be taken seriously? If passing the imperial examination makes one a star of literature, then there would be one every year. Heaven would have nothing better to do than busy itself birthing stars all day long."

Amused by his wit, Princess Taiping let out a soft laugh. "I didn't realize you were so humorous, Master Pei. I have been so restless with affairs of state lately; it has been a long time since I laughed like this."

Pei Min rubbed his nose in embarrassment. His previous remark might have been harmless in the twenty-first century, but in this era, it carried a slight tinge of impropriety. Fortunately, Princess Taiping was no naive maiden, and instead of taking offense, she offered a charming, coquettish smile.

***

The Ministry of War was located on the Fourth Cross Street within the Imperial City, not far from the Ansheng Gate where they had entered. They arrived after passing just two streets.

Pei Min thanked Princess Taiping and prepared to depart, but she seemed to recall something. "Wait, there is one thing I forgot to tell you. Someone tampered with your military examination. I have investigated the matter; do you know who it was?"

Pei Min’s heart skipped a beat. He looked at her, stunned that she was aware of this as well. "I had my suspicions," he replied, pausing, "but I was not certain."

"It was your fellow townsman and clansman, Pei Yu, who earned his 'presented scholar' degree this term. The rumors about you and me also originated from his lips," Princess Taiping said. She continued, as if speaking to herself rather than to him, "That fool, Pei Yu, prided himself on his meticulous schemes, thinking that if he acted flawlessly, he would be beyond reproach. He believed that without evidence, no one would know it was his doing or be able to touch him. What a ridiculous notion. Does 'Taiping' need evidence to decide someone's fate?"

Pei Yu was dead. He was actually dead.

Pei Min stared at the Princess, weighed down by the revelation. Princess Taiping, however, smiled faintly. "He plotted so painstakingly against you. Do you not think he deserved to die, Master Pei?"

Pei Min opened his mouth, then stammered, "I... I cannot say."

"Of course he deserved to die!" she said dismissively. "To borrow a knife to kill, one must look at whose knife it is and whether the hand that holds it is willing. He did not understand this simple truth and was nothing more than a fool who fought battles on paper. He borrowed the knife, but paid with his own life. He has only his own arrogance to blame. You are a clever man, Master Pei; you should know your limits. Know when to stop."

Pei Min nodded solemnly. "Your Highness is right. I understand."

Stepping out of the carriage, Pei Min took his horse and watched the Princess depart. His expression was grave. This was the true Princess Taiping—a ruthless political mastermind. All of Pei Yu’s schemes had been as childish as a game to her; without causing Pei Min any real harm, she had extinguished Pei Yu's life.

Pei Min realized that his own attempt to use her to deal with Huifan had likely not escaped her notice either.

Princess Taiping was never a magnanimous person. Like her mother, Empress Wu Zetian, she saw the world in black and white, too domineering to tolerate any defiance. He had used her influence twice; while he hadn't crossed her bottom line, he had clearly caused her displeasure. That was why she had allowed Pei Yu’s plot to unfold—to give Pei Min a small lesson. But he had escaped it, and worse, he had intended to use Guo Yuanzhen to strike back.

Her warning today was clear: the culprit was dead, and this was the end of it. Do not cross her line again. Pei Min knew that if he did, she would be just as ruthless with him as she would be with her own flesh and blood.

Thinking of Pei Yu, the rival who had desperately tried to crush him, Pei Min whispered, "Thank you."

Princess Taiping’s statecraft was forged in the life-and-death crucible of clan-exterminating purges; it was true wisdom. Their own schemes were merely petty, unrefined cleverness. Petty cleverness might yield a momentary victory, but it was fragile when pitted against true wisdom.

Pei Yu had used his petty cleverness to challenge that wisdom, and it had cost him his life. His death served as the most vivid lesson Pei Min had ever received.