Chapter 49: Emperor Taizong's coffin lid is about to burst open!

Chapter 49: Even Emperor Taizong’s Coffin Lid Can No Longer Contain Him!

The middle-aged man standing before them was none other than Emperor Taizong himself, though he remained unaware of this fact.

Yet Old Li had no intention of clawing his way out of a grave, nor did he seek to reenact the infamous Xuanwu Gate Incident.

The group found a roadside teahouse and took seats outside, beginning a casual conversation.

This era was not like the harsh rule under Empress Wu, where draconian officials ruled with an iron fist; the control over speech was relatively lax. Neither Li Shimin nor his sons cared much about this, and the middle-aged man named Wei Liulang before them appeared even less concerned.

Such an attitude naturally caught Li Shimin’s attention. Once seated, he asked, “Brother Wei, you speak so frankly—aren’t you afraid of being arrested and thrown into prison?”

“Afraid? Ha ha ha…” Wei Liulang’s laughter was tinged with bitterness. “Apart from this daughter of mine, I have no attachments in this world. What is there to fear?”

“I served in the army for five years, fought in thirty or forty battles, and ended up crippled in one leg. When I returned home, I found my lands seized by aristocratic families, and my wife had taken her own life.” He reached out to stroke his daughter’s head and said bitterly, “I wanted to confront the local officials—cut them down with my sword—but I couldn’t. If I die, that’s the end of me, but what about this girl? If those families take revenge on her, her whole life will be ruined.”

Li Shimin exchanged a glance with his sons, both struck by a wave of horror.

Everyone knew land consolidation was severe, but to reach such a dire degree? The Tang Dynasty had been founded less than a century ago, yet the equal-field system had already decayed to this extent. No wonder the militia system was collapsing. Returning from war to find one’s land gone and wife dead, who would risk their life for such a state?

“Is… no one doing anything about this?” Li Shimin instinctively asked.

“The officials collude with the wealthy landowners. Why would they care about common folk like us?” Wei Liulang’s laughter was hollow.

Without a word, Li Shimin punched his son Li Zhi.

“Father, why are you hitting me?” Li Zhi complained.

“A father hitting his son is perfectly natural!” Li Shimin’s eyes blazed. “The aristocrats oppress the people, the government does nothing, and I’m upset about it. So I can’t hit you?”

Li Zhi was at a loss. Raised in the palace for years, how could he understand the sufferings of the people? Like the sharp critique of Emperor Jiajing in later times, soaring to great heights, how could he see the hardships of those on the ground?

In truth, he was disconnected from the masses—born in the inner palace, raised by women—an inevitable fate for future emperors.

“This kind of plight is common in the Tang,” Wei Liulang sighed deeply, cursing bitterly, “Damn it, how did this country come to this?”

“Back when Emperor Taizong the Cultured and Martial was in power, how magnificent it was! The Tang was mighty, commanding the submission of all under heaven,” Wei Liulang’s eyes shimmered with nostalgia. “And now, just a few years later, not only have the Turks revived from their ashes, but even Tibet dares to defile the Tang!”

Li Zhi felt a bit defiant. Though newly enthroned, he was still healthy and ambitious, believing that even if he wasn’t as great as his father, he could still accomplish something.

“What about Emperor Gaozong? Didn’t he win many battles?” he asked stubbornly.

Wei Liulang looked at Li Zhi as if he were an alien, disbelief plain on his face. “You don’t admire the divine, literary, and martial Emperor Taizong, yet you praise Emperor Gaozong?”

The implication was clear: Wei Liulang only revered Li Shimin.

Li Shimin glanced meaningfully at Li Zhi, suppressing the questions on his son’s lips. Then he asked Wei Liulang, “Brother Wei, how do you view Emperor Taizong and Emperor Gaozong of our dynasty?”

“Speaking of Emperor Taizong—that’s the real deal!” Wei Liulang said, flashing two thumbs up. “During his reign, taxes were light, officials governed cleanly, and the empire repeatedly triumphed in battle, subduing all the barbarians.”

“I truly wish I had lived under Emperor Taizong’s rule, to be a mere foot soldier following him to expand the borders and fight on all fronts!”

His words brimmed with longing for Taizong, who truly was the bright moonlight of the entire Tang.

“As for Emperor Gaozong—what a case of a tiger father and a dog son,” Wei Liulang lamented with a heavy heart. “The great legacy left by Emperor Taizong was handed over to his wife who usurped the throne…”

“But didn’t Emperor Gaozong win many battles?” Li Zhi protested.

“Bah!” Wei Liulang spat fiercely. “Those were the tough battles Emperor Taizong had already broken for him! Is eating soft meat something to boast about?”

“Land seizures worsened during Gaozong’s reign. I don’t know about the court, but in the countryside, landlords grew more and more outrageous—seizing peasants’ fields and forcing women into prostitution became commonplace.”

Hearing this, Li Shimin quietly stepped on Li Zhi’s foot. The prince’s face flushed red from the pain, and he did not dare speak further.

“It’s a pity that Emperor Taizong’s lifetime fame…” Wei Liulang sighed, then continued, “After Empress Wu’s usurpation, things went downhill rapidly. Land seizure became even more rampant, and the empire suffered consecutive defeats, losing more and more border lands.”

“Inside the court, they only painted a picture of peace. Empress Wu even employed cruel officials to maintain her rule.”

“These cruel officials, led by Suo Yuanli, Zhou Xing, and Lai Junchen, fabricated charges, abused torture, and even instituted a system of informants. Fear gripped the entire realm. We poor villagers dared not speak carelessly, afraid one day we’d be accused of a deadly crime.”

Wei Liulang’s words were no exaggeration. The next time such a fearful atmosphere would blanket the land would be a thousand years later, during the literary inquisition of the Qing dynasty.

Seeing everyone’s solemn faces, Li Qing sought to lighten the mood.

“Let me tell you another story, Brother Li.”

“During Empress Wu’s reign, an old man in Luoyang was walking at night and accidentally fell into the river. He called for help, but two passing constables ignored him.”

“In desperation, the old man shouted, ‘Empress Wu brings ruin to the court!’ The constables were shocked and immediately jumped into the river to seize him.”

“If it were me, I’d rather sink and drown,” Wei Liulang said bleakly.

“Why?” Li Shimin asked, puzzled. “Isn’t being arrested better than drowning alive?”

“Have you heard of ‘inviting the guest into the urn’?” Wei Liulang shuddered. “It’s a torture where they stuff a living person into an urn and roast them alive…”

Li Shimin and his sons exchanged glances, all inhaling sharply.

Could such a cruel punishment exist in the world? Truly eye-opening.

Li Qing was unsurprised; he knew this “inviting the guest into the urn” torture well. In later times, during the Ming dynasty, wasn’t there a Han prince who was stuffed into an urn and turned into a kind of ceramic chicken?

“If they keep allowing such chaos, even Emperor Taizong’s coffin lid won’t be able to hold him down!” Wei Liulang cursed bitterly.

(End of chapter)