Prince Qi dodged backward and collided with the Sixth Prince, who was holding a cup of hot tea. The tea splashed out, scalding the Tenth Prince's neck. He leapt up with a shriek, overturning the table in the process. The brothers seated on the opposite side, initially enjoying the drama, were caught completely off guard and found themselves drenched in wine, dishes, and soup. Cries, curses, and chaos erupted all at once. In the midst of it, someone noticed a decorative boulder had toppled the candlestick. With a deafening "boom," flames licked up the silk curtain and soared skyward.
Who could still think of dining? It was time to flee.
In the dry autumn air, the fire raged swiftly. By the time the blaze was brought under control, the main building of the renowned Jade Pavilion—the grandest restaurant in the capital—had been half reduced to ashes.
The shopkeeper, well aware that these princely arsonists were not to be trifled with, stood trembling in the alley, watching the smoldering ruins under the moonlight.
"It wasn't intentional," Li Jing, his face smeared with soot, sighed deeply. "It was all Prince Qi's fault!"
Prince Qi had long since fled, leaving Li Jing unable to confront him. In desperation, he grabbed hold of the Sixth Prince, who had been the last to escape.
"Brother Six! You're on good terms with the owner—explain things to him, quickly!"
The Sixth Prince echoed, "It truly wasn't Prince Zhao's fault."
The shopkeeper, dazed and trembling, said, "I care not who's to blame. I only ask—who shall pay?"
Li Jing promptly took a step back, only for the Sixth Prince to retreat even faster. Helpless, Li Jing sighed, "Fine, we'll pay… but can it be on credit?"
The shopkeeper nearly collapsed on the spot.
As expected, at the next morning's court session, the censors' fiery denunciations were thunderous. The list of crimes nearly drove the Emperor into a fit—brawling, arson, the burning of a public establishment, and worst of all, no restitution in sight.
The Emperor was stunned. How had his sons, in just a day or two, become such an utter disgrace?
"I ask you," he questioned the soot-covered Li Jing kneeling before him, "why did you invite them all to the tavern?"
Li Jing answered meekly, "To bid farewell to my eldest brother."
The Prince Su was merely being sent to his fief, not punished. It was only proper for the brothers to see him off. Li Jing had never spared a thought for the deeper reason behind Prince Su's departure—his mind wasn't built for that kind of pondering.
"Did your eldest brother attend?"
"No," Li Jing admitted, crestfallen.
Neither guest nor host had arrived, yet the rest had managed to feast, drink, and start a fight. Utter incompetence. But the Emperor, curious nonetheless, asked, "And what sparked the brawl?"
Li Jing raised his voice, "Prince Qi insulted Ninth Brother, calling him unlucky and saying he'd surely die at my house. I couldn't take it, so I threw a rock at him."
At least he had the presence of mind to say "threw" instead of "smashed."
The Emperor frowned. "Where would a tavern have rocks?"
Li Jing glanced around and replied cautiously, "I brought one from home."
Prince Qi, also kneeling, seized the opportunity. "Father, this proves Prince Zhao premeditated it! I don't know how I offended him, but he laid a trap to attack me!"
"A trap?" The Emperor pointed at Li Jing. "You really think he has the brains for that?"
Li Jing grinned in gratitude, delighted by the imperial favor.
The Sixth Prince, kneeling nearby, kindly reminded him, "Father meant you have no brains."
The court fell into chaos. The Emperor had already lost interest in the Jade Pavilion fire. His thoughts turned to something else.
"Ninth is unlucky. Is that what you all believe?" His voice was no longer booming with thunderous might. It softened, and somehow that was more terrifying.
The princes bowed their heads low. The previously rowdy court fell silent, like a midnight forest where a sudden torch reveals a rabbit—frozen in fear, knowing doom is near.
Sure enough, the Emperor descended from the throne.
"So this is what you think. A guardian of the imperial tombs is cursed. A man who once survived poisoning in an ancient crypt is cursed. You dishonor Heaven above and abandon the people below, squabbling like vermin without a clue what it means to be royalty, what it means to uphold our name. I should send you all to the royal tombs—kneel before your ancestors and learn what shame and honor truly mean!"
His voice grew louder, like rolling thunder shaking the very rafters. It echoed through the great hall, shattering columns and roof tiles, startling birds from the eaves.
The princes cowered, heads down. The ministers knelt in panic, begging for mercy. How could the royal sons all be sent to the tombs? And were these princes even the type to endure hardship? Likely, they would build mini-palaces underground, bring along servants and musicians, set up theaters. The imperial tombs of Tang would become the liveliest place under heaven. And if they staged the wrong opera—say, "The Dragon and Phoenix Present Auspices"—it'd be not just lively, but joyous. Would the ancestors rest in peace, or rise from their graves in outrage?
The Emperor knew he had spoken in anger, but punishment was necessary. After a moment's thought, he declared:
"Li Jing, for causing the incident and burning down the building, you shall forfeit one year's salary and personally supervise the reconstruction of the Jade Pavilion. Li Lian, for offensive words and poor conduct, your salary is spared, but you are to go to Mount Jiuzong and take your second brother's place guarding the tomb. The rest of you, as brothers who failed to intervene, are fined five hundred taels each to contribute to the rebuilding."
Li Lian—the Third Prince, and the one who fought with Li Jing—turned pale. "But Father, Second Brother is still on the road. Let me go next year."
The Second Prince had volunteered to guard the tomb as an act of filial piety. He hadn't even arrived yet.
The Emperor, however, had his own logic. "You will go. He chose it out of duty; you go as punishment. Trade places with him—live the life of Ninth Brother and tell me if it still feels cursed."
"I admit my fault, Father, please revoke your decree. My consort is about to give birth. I don't wish to leave the capital!"
Li Lian nearly clung to the Emperor's leg, but the imperial command was final.
Every prince at that ill-fated banquet now felt they were the unluckiest of all. Prince Qi, of course, had it worst—mocking Prince Su and ending up banished like him, only to a worse place. The others had lost five hundred taels over a meal—and barely a sip of wine to show for it. The costliest drink in history.
Li Jing also felt wronged. He had invited them out of goodwill. The main guest didn't show. The building burned. Now he had to supervise reconstruction—and he didn't even know how to build a pigsty, let alone a refined establishment like the Jade Pavilion.
The princes cursed everyone: Li Lian, Li Jing, even Prince Su, who wasn't even present, and Li Ce, the cause of it all. Even Li Jing, usually condescending and arrogant, spoke in defense of Li Ce—clearly, living under the same roof changed things.
But Li Jing still cursed Li Ce, and decided all his misfortunes stemmed from him. So he parked himself at Li Ce's door and refused to leave.
"I don't care," he declared. "I can't supervise this. If anyone's doing it, it's you. This is all your fault."
He looked like a bullied bride, glaring at Li Ce, who was coughing and taking medicine. "Anyway, you've built a tomb before—you've got the experience!"
Was a tomb the same as a restaurant?
To Li Jing, they were. Both housed people—the only difference was whether they were dead or alive.
Li Ce offered no opinion. He didn't understand why his name had started surfacing more and more in court discussions, why all recent chaos somehow involved him. It went against every principle he lived by to remain inconspicuous.
"I'm recuperating," Li Ce said. "At most, I'll send the craftsmen from the future construction of my residence to assist."
The Ministry of Works had already received orders to build his princely estate. Construction would begin soon.
But Li Jing wasn't done. He muttered and complained, "It's all Brother Six's fault for recommending that cursed Jade Pavilion, saying it belonged to the Duke of Anguo…"