After discreetly asking the palace eunuchs and confirming that His Majesty was in good spirits today, Hou Junji finally let out a breath he had been holding.
It was already the eighth month, yet the scorching sun showed no sign of relenting.
Standing beneath it, Hou Junji found himself unexpectedly nostalgic for the carefree days of past years.
In years gone by, during such oppressive heat, His Majesty would certainly bestow ice to relieve the court officials. Digging ice cellars was hardly a royal monopoly, but to be granted ice was, at the very least, proof that one still held a place in the emperor's regard.
This year, however—nothing.
And coupled with what he had learned from later generations—"Old Hou gets beheaded"—his state of mind had inevitably grown unstable.
As a result, he had delayed the matter entrusted to him by His Majesty again and again, hoping to polish it to perfection to recover some standing. Fortunately, there were finally tangible results to present.
The shade cast by the palace walls spared Hou Junji from the sun's torment. Upon reaching Taiji Hall, he unexpectedly encountered Wei Zheng, who had already returned to Chang'an.
Compared to the Wei Zheng of memory, he was darker and thinner now, yet his bearing had grown markedly steadier.
"…While handling the Turkic affairs," Wei Zheng was reporting, "the Xueyantuo khagan Yinan committed numerous unlawful acts."
"He repeatedly sent envoys to test me, and even attempted to bribe me with treasures in exchange for Turkic warriors. Judging by his actions, he is courting his own destruction."
Li Shimin listened with interest.
"The treasures, then? You sternly refused them?"
Wei Zheng replied calmly, neither servile nor arrogant:
"I accepted everything in full and brought it back to Chang'an, for Your Majesty's inspection—so that it may serve as funding for future campaigns against Xueyantuo."
"Afterward, I formally accused Khagan Yinan of bribery and unlawful seizure of pasturelands, issued orders to Bingzhou, dispatched over a thousand elite cavalry, slew two hundred, and captured over a thousand prisoners, to demonstrate Your Majesty's punitive authority."
Li Shimin burst into laughter.
"Xueyantuo indeed deserved punishment. Your handling of the matter was entirely appropriate."
"However, this treasure may first be borrowed for the campaign against Tuyuhun. In managing the Western Regions, it is still useful to wear down Xueyantuo's strength."
Wei Zheng nodded lightly. Military strategy was not his forte. In earlier days, he might have offered suggestions, but now—knowing how later generations praised Li Jing—Wei Zheng felt it wiser to listen more and speak less when it came to warfare.
Before leaving, however, he did not forget to add:
"Your Majesty's reform of the imperial examinations is an act worthy of a sage king."
Li Shimin waved it off calmly.
"This system inherits the legacy of the former dynasty and benefits from guidance from later generations. What merit can I claim?"
"If it can select those capable of governing the realm and lay the foundation of Tang, that would be merit."
Once the audience concluded, Wei Zheng finally noticed Hou Junji standing to the side.
He saluted Hou Junji as well, then strode away with his head held high. After six full months of relentless labor, he needed rest.
Yet Wei Zheng found it slightly strange.
When he had exchanged courtesies with the Duke of Lu just now, why had the Duke seemed eager to avoid him?
By rank or by title, Hou Junji—Grand General and Duke of Lu—far outranked him, which was precisely why Wei Zheng had initiated the salute. And yet the other's reaction was… odd.
Still, it was a trivial matter. Wei Zheng soon dismissed it from his mind and instead began thinking about the food stalls in the West Market.
A hearty meal, a bit of good wine, and a solid night's sleep—those were his only wishes now.
Watching Wei Zheng depart, Hou Junji finally drew a book from his robes under Li Shimin's inquisitive gaze and presented it with both hands.
"I have not failed Your Majesty's trust. The book is complete."
Li Shimin accepted it with interest and read the title on the inner cover:
The Biography of Qutu Jilai?
Turning the pages, Li Shimin sighed softly. Of course he remembered the Qutu surname.
Qutu Tong—formerly Qutu Zhongtong—was a great general of the Sui. After defeat at Tong Pass, he surrendered to Tang, entered the Qin Prince's household, and was deeply valued by Li Shimin.
After the defeat of Wang Shichong, he ranked first in merit. Taking into account the old general's prestige, Li Shimin appointed him Right Chancellor after ascending the throne, entrusting him with the defense of Luoyang. He passed away in office in the second year of Zhenguan.
With a wave of his hand signaling Hou Junji not to worry, Li Shimin opened the book.
One hour passed in silence.
Taiji Hall remained utterly still. Even eunuchs who entered with memorials were halted at the doors by Hou Junji's warning gaze.
By the time Hou Junji's legs were beginning to go numb, Li Shimin finally exclaimed:
"Excellent!"
Li Shimin was well read in history, but The Biography of Qutu Jilai was something entirely different. Its outline was simple enough:
A boy of mixed heritage, born of a Han mother and a Hu father. Under his mother's guidance, he won over his Hu brethren, and through both valor and intellect, rose to become chief of a small tribe.
Amid the chaos of the age, he joined Sui, became a trusted subordinate of Qutu Tong, distinguished himself against the Turks, persuaded generals at Tong Pass to submit to the Qin Prince Li Shimin, offered clever stratagems in the defeat of Wang Shichong, and finally earned noble rank.
In his later years, he returned to Liaodong to relocate his mother's grave back to Han lands.
Closing the book, Li Shimin found the aftertaste lingering.
Though the protagonist was Hu by birth, his mother's teachings had given him a Han heart.
The progression of life was layered and deliberate.
Life after joining Sui—cultured and literate—stood in stark contrast to the savage, dreamlike existence in Liaodong.
Sui's ruthless exploitation of the people contrasted sharply with Tang's policy of recovery and rest.
Li Shimin had to admit: these folk storytellers truly possessed skill.
"Is this Qutu Jilai still alive? I would like to meet him."
Hou Junji waved his hands awkwardly.
"There is no such person."
He explained further:
"I sought out Qutu Tong's former retainers. This story was woven together from the accounts of dozens of household generals."
Li Shimin laughed in realization.
"I forgot—this is a novel. And if such a man truly existed, Zhongtong would certainly have recommended him to me."
With that resolved, Li Shimin had no further doubts.
"This book is excellent. It should be widely disseminated."
"I entrust this matter to you."
Hou Junji was overjoyed and immediately accepted the charge.
To Li Shimin, who knew history inside and out, the book's appeal lay chiefly in its dramatic narrative—it would not withstand close scrutiny.
But for common folk, what was there to scrutinize?
Far more interesting was debating with neighbors whether Hu customs were truly so barbaric, or whether the nobility of Sui had indeed lived in such excess.
Once the story spread through Chang'an, Hu merchants would carry it to the frontiers—to tribes still living on raw meat and blood.
And to them, the message would be unmistakable:
Tang welcomes capable Hu men.
At that point, whether Qutu Jilai truly existed would no longer matter.
Since returning from the Western Regions, Hou Junji's heart had been suspended in constant dread.
Now, having been entrusted with real responsibility once more, it finally settled back into his chest.
After further discussion, His Majesty even assigned him an additional task.
In high spirits, the Duke of Lu rode straight out of the palace gates, mounted his tall horse, and let it trot leisurely down the main avenue.
Looking about from horseback, Hou Junji felt that Chang'an had regained its color.
The bustling cries of vendors no longer annoyed him. The Hu merchants leading camels no longer seemed repugnant.
Even when a child accidentally wandered onto the avenue, Hou Junji calmly reined in his horse and spoke gently to the frightened woman.
Aside from the merchants, notices posted throughout the streets also drew crowds of commoners, stirring loud discussion:
"His Majesty intends to greatly expand the imperial examinations?"
"The examination system makes no distinction between prefectures or lineages—only talent matters."
"Is Great Tang about to change?"
"You country bumpkin—have you never seen an examination before?"
"My ancestors served as Sui officials! And you—what pig or dog are you?"
Hou Junji merely glanced once, muttered that Tang truly abounded in martial vigor, and rode on.
With his own troubles temporarily resolved, Hou Junji inevitably turned his thoughts toward planning his son's future.
As a duke, he knew more than most: accompanying the examination reforms was a sweeping overhaul of the official system.
Those who passed the examinations and those who earned military merit would be prioritized for appointments.
Ranks obtained through hereditary privilege would be reduced by one grade.
Officials failing evaluations would not only be demoted but stripped of office outright.
Hou Junji could imagine the resistance such policies would have faced in earlier reigns.
But now?
Anyone daring to oppose them openly—tomorrow His Majesty might send Jieli Khagan to dance at their doorstep.
The policies harmed no commoners.
They cut only into the great clans.
And today's great clans were no longer the towering powers of Wei and Jin—what could they do besides posture?
Some remained silent, watching coldly, their intentions clear to Hou Junji.
They wished to avoid the emperor's present edge, waiting instead for Tang to stumble—then rise together in opposition.
But…
If one spoke of educating heirs, perhaps His Majesty fell short.
Yet if one spoke of Tang's martial might—
"How could His Majesty ever lose?"
Riding out of the city, the vast plains stretched endlessly before him, fields fitted together seamlessly into a scene of quiet beauty.
"Ho! Elder Zhangsun—well met!"
Hou Junji laughed as he recognized Zhangsun Wuji ahead.
His brocade robe was rolled up at the waist, yet still spattered with mud. His hair was disheveled, sweat beading his cheeks.
Who would guess this was the emperor's maternal uncle?
Squinting into the sun, Zhangsun Wuji recognized Hou Junji and snorted.
"So it's you—the traitor fated to lose his head."
Hou Junji's breath caught—then he smiled easily.
"Does Elder Zhangsun believe there's no hope of returning to office, so you plan to farm your old age away?"
Zhangsun Wuji glanced at him with faint pity. From Hou Junji's demeanor alone, it was obvious—new favor, no worries.
But someone bold enough to recreate the Xuanwu Gate Incident?
How could His Majesty ever truly trust him?
"The affairs of the state lie in the altars of soil and grain. Their security lies in agriculture."
"There are capable generals to face external threats. I, one who has requested retirement, can only tend the fields in service of the realm."
"Duke of Lu, do not delay His Majesty's commission—and do not trample the farmland meant to sustain my old age."
Hou Junji looked carefully, but could discern no particular pattern in the fields. In the end, he could only shake his head, spur his horse, and ride on.
After all, he still bore an imperial command—to go to Chencang and invite Liu Rengui.
There was no time to waste.