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Dreams are austere, while reality is full and abundant...
Fang Jun, who wholeheartedly sought infamy and to provoke the disdain of Emperor Li Er, inexplicably received a commendation for being “simple and honest, with a gentle temperament.”
Li You, having been beaten senselessly by Fang Jun without cause, failed to lodge a complaint and was instead kicked again. Old wounds unhealed, new injuries added—His Highness Prince Qi must be drowning in sorrow, possibly having fainted from tears in the restroom by now...
After more than half an hour of turmoil in the Shenlong Hall, Li You was beaten and punished with thirty strokes of the cane, while Yan Hongliang received a stern warning. If not for Emperor Li Er’s concern for Consort Yan’s feelings, they would have been severely beaten as well.
Fang Jun, the troublemaker, walked out unscathed and even earned praise, casually strolling out with Cheng Chubi.
This clearly shows how crucial one’s reputation is. Important matters deserve repetition—reputation truly matters, matters, matters.
Because of Fang Jun’s consistently meek and timid demeanor, the wise and valiant Emperor Li Er was predisposed to believe that the troublemaker could not be Fang Jun.
In contrast, Li You was the exact opposite.
This is how a society governed by men’s whims works—often ignoring law and evidence, handling matters solely based on subjective impressions, and resulting in... well, you get the idea.
Li You’s grievance was genuine.
But even his injustice paled compared to the one beside Fang Jun...
Leaving Shenlong Hall, retracing their steps, the black-armored warrior accompanied them.
Fang Jun noticed the man’s imposing physique and extraordinary bearing and asked, “May I know the general’s name?”
The black-armored warrior’s expression was cold, but his character seemed decent as he replied, “I am Li Junxian, newly appointed Grand Commander of the Hundred Riders.”
Fang Jun was momentarily stunned.
Li Junxian?
Such a familiar name...
After pondering for a long while, he suddenly recalled where he had heard it—The Supreme Beauty, portrayed by Zhao Wenzhuo!
Then Fang Jun suddenly realized he had forgotten a great figure, a peerless legend unmatched through the ages!
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Wu Zetian!
He associated Li Junxian with Wu Zetian, the formidable and extraordinarily powerful warrior woman—by now, she should have already entered the palace.
The first major thought that came to Fang Jun was to overcome all obstacles, advance relentlessly, and firmly grasp the mighty warrior woman’s thigh. Those legs were simply too robust, unmatched in history and unrivaled in the world...
He wondered if Li Junxian knew Wu Zetian now.
If he did, did he know that he would someday die by the hands of that enchanting yet venomous woman? And die so willingly, so serenely...
This raised the question: what was the nature of Li Junxian’s relationship with the warrior woman—pure and noble as Plato’s ideals, or fiery and passionate like Pan Jinlian and Ximen Qing?
Of course, these were Fang Jun’s wild speculations, knowing full well they were the baseless fabrications of drama writers, shamelessly concocted out of thin air.
But one thing was certain—Li Junxian and Wu Zetian were indeed connected, and their bond was extraordinary, one of sacrifice and protection...
Wu Zetian had countless lovers throughout her life, but very few truly gave their lives for her imperial ambitions. The first brave man to “sacrifice himself” was Li Junxian, a founding hero of the Tang Dynasty. Interestingly, he had never met Wu Zetian but, due to a confusing nickname, became a scapegoat and died under Emperor Taizong’s blade, taking a fatal blow meant for her—truly the biggest fool in Tang history.
In the early years of the Zhenguan era, the Venus star appeared repeatedly in the sky. The imperial astrologers divined that such an omen signified “a female ruler’s prosperity.” In ancient times, the idea of a hen crowing at dawn was taboo. Empress Lü and Empress Dowager Feng of Northern Wei had both constrained emperors, so Emperor Taizong was wary of such omens.
Yet rumors only spread wider, soon whispering of “a female martial king” to come.
From a scientific viewpoint, these claims were sheer nonsense, unreliable at best. Even the Northern Song scholar Ouyang Xiu regarded them as later “malicious gossip” propagated by Wu Zetian herself after her ascension, though this remains uncertain and unproven.
Still, Emperor Taizong heard these rumors and felt a deep unease, displeased that so soon into his reign, a successor was already stirring unrest.
Ten years later, in the 22nd year of Zhenguan, the matter resurfaced.
Since Emperor Taizong had relied heavily on his generals during his rise to power, he often held banquets with these veterans. At one such gathering, he played a drinking game where each participant revealed their childhood nickname.
When it was Li Junxian’s turn, he unhesitatingly said his girl’s nickname—“Fifth Young Lady.”
He was carefree, but Emperor Taizong’s heart sank.
The nickname “Fifth Young Lady,” the title Duke of Wulian Commandery, the guard of Xuanwu Gate, serving as Left Martial Guard General...
He possessed all the “female warrior” elements.
This was a thought best not entertained, as the more he pondered, the more revolting it became.
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Yet he forced himself to suppress his taboo, feigning magnanimity by saying, “What sort of woman is this? She is strong indeed.”
Though he spoke thus, his heart was already filled with murderous intent.
To serve a ruler is to serve a tiger.
Li Junxian had once been Emperor Taizong’s most trusted subordinate, but due to a baseless prophecy, the emperor grew suspicious and their friendship was shattered. Li Junxian was stripped of his post, executed, and his entire family confiscated.
Until his death, Li Junxian never understood what mistake he had made.
Forty-two years later, the true “female martial king,” Wu Zetian, ascended the throne. Out of gratitude for Li Junxian’s unwitting sacrifice, she posthumously rehabilitated him as a small measure of recompense.
Poor Li Junxian was probably the very first man to have given himself for Wu Zetian...
Fang Jun quickly clasped his hands: “So it is General Li, I have long admired you.”
His admiration was genuine—over a millennium in the making...
Yet seeing this man’s upright and heroic countenance, it was a pity he died so unjustly. Should he offer a word of advice? Perhaps to warn him not to speak to strangers lightly, not to reveal his childhood nickname, and certainly not to accept sweets from strangers...
But thinking better of it, who would believe him?
His mind conflicted and distracted, he was startled when Li Junxian suddenly declared loudly, “I pay respects to Princess Gaoyang!”
Fang Jun looked up in surprise and saw the petite and exquisite Princess Gaoyang, surrounded by several palace maids, emerging from a corridor’s turn.
If Fang Jun had to name the three people he most wished to avoid in the entire Tang Dynasty, Princess Gaoyang would be among the top three, with the other two... also Princess Gaoyang...