I, Am a Living Yama; Empress Advises Me to Stay Calm

Half an hour later, Li Chengqian left Luoyang. Yang Yi, on the other hand, returned to Qianyuan Hall.
Inside the hall, Wu Zhao threw a pile of memorials at Yang Yi, her expression unreadable.
“Look at this,” she said.
Yang Yi, taken aback, glanced at the scattered memorials, confusion flickering across his face.
“Your Majesty, this is…?”
Wu Zhao folded her arms, her tone sharp.
“What else could it be? These are all memorials accusing you!”
She pointed at the pile with evident frustration.
“You’ve been mobilizing troops these past few days, which is one thing, but dressing them in Turkish clothes to accompany Li Chengqian in his antics? That’s another story altogether. Many censors are unhappy and have submitted these memorials to me.”
She picked up one document and slammed it onto the table.
“Look at Zhang Jianzhi’s memorial—it claims you recklessly mobilized troops to flatter the Crown Prince of the Tang Dynasty and dishonored Great Zhou. And this one from Hanlin Academy,” she continued, waving another paper, “denounces you as utterly shameless. They argue that making our Great Zhou troops wear foreign clothes is a disgrace to our dignity.”
Yang Yi stood still for a moment, then suddenly burst into laughter.
Wu Zhao narrowed her eyes. “What are you laughing at? People are scolding you.”
Yang Yi clasped his hands together respectfully and smiled.
“Your Majesty, it is precisely because so many people are scolding me that I am happy.”
Shangguan Wan’er, standing silently to the side, blinked in confusion.
Wu Zhao’s brows furrowed as she looked at Yang Yi’s cheerful expression.
“Do you… need to see a doctor? Why are you happy about being scolded?”
Yang Yi’s grin widened. “Your Majesty, the reason I am happy is simple. These memorials show that our ministers, despite the power I wield, still have the courage to criticize me openly and offer straightforward advice. Instead of being cowards who pretend not to see wrongdoings, they stand up for what they believe.
“A country with ministers unafraid to speak out is truly blessed. And so, I am happy—for Great Zhou and for Your Majesty.”
Wu Zhao blinked, stunned by his response.
Shangguan Wan’er’s eyes sparkled with admiration as she studied Yang Yi. His magnanimity was astonishing, far beyond what most people could muster.
Wu Zhao fell silent for a moment before finally speaking again.
“So why did you dress the troops like that? Just because Li Chengqian enjoys pretending to be a Turk?”
The Crown Prince of Tang Dynasty’s peculiar hobby was no secret. Tales of his antics had spread far and wide—bad news traveled faster than good, after all.
Yang Yi smirked and pulled a chair over, sitting down casually.
“Your Majesty, are you aware of how much Li Shimin detests Li Chengqian’s behavior of dressing like a Turk?”
Wu Zhao nodded thoughtfully. “Of course I know. But are you implying you did this to provoke Li Shimin further, to make him more disgusted with the Crown Prince?”
Yang Yi chuckled softly. “That’s part of it, Your Majesty, but only incidental. My main target wasn’t Li Shimin.”
Wu Zhao raised an eyebrow. “Then who?”
“Li Chengqian.”
Wu Zhao’s expression darkened in confusion. “Li Chengqian?”
Yang Yi leaned back, the faintest glint of mischief in his eyes.
“Your Majesty, may I ask you a question? You enjoy three meals a day prepared with the finest ingredients. But if you were suddenly restricted to nothing but porridge and vegetables, would you be able to accept it?”
Wu Zhao frowned, shaking her head. “I could endure it, but it would be extremely unpleasant.”
Yang Yi clapped his hands with a laugh. “Exactly. Living frugally and then experiencing luxury is easy. But going from luxury to frugality? That’s torture.
“Li Chengqian, in the Eastern Palace of Great Zhou, is secretly indulging his fantasies of being a Turk with his subordinates. But once he returns to the Tang Dynasty, where his father’s strict eye watches his every move, he won’t have such freedom.
“Now, I let him command troops, revel in power, and enjoy the adoration of thousands. Once he tastes this kind of freedom, returning to his cage will be unbearable. It will gnaw at him, poison him, and haunt his heart.”
The hall fell silent, Wu Zhao’s gaze dark and unreadable.
“Are you trying to sow discord between him and his father?” she finally asked.
Shangguan Wan’er gasped softly, her face pale with shock.
Yang Yi’s smile didn’t waver. “All I did was plant the idea in his mind. I told him that to gain true freedom, he must become emperor. Only as emperor will no one dare to reprimand or restrain him.
“And I reminded him that his father, Li Shimin, wasn’t the eldest son, yet he killed his brother, forced his father to abdicate, and claimed the throne. I simply asked: Why can’t he do the same?”
Wu Zhao’s lips parted slightly as she processed his words. Her eyelids twitched, and her heart raced. Yang Yi’s cunning surpassed her imagination.
This wasn’t merely sowing discord—it was inciting rebellion. He had planted a seed of ambition that could grow into the same bloody betrayal that marked the Xuanwu Gate Coup.
Shangguan Wan’er looked at Yang Yi in awe and fear. The devious brilliance of his plan was staggering.
Wu Zhao took a deep breath, struggling to suppress the turbulent emotions in her chest. “So this was your plan all along. No wonder you carried out such strange actions.”
Yang Yi shrugged nonchalantly.
“It didn’t cost me anything. If it doesn’t work, so be it. But if it does, and Li Chengqian raises his sword against his father, won’t that cause trouble for the Tang Dynasty?
“A no-cost maneuver with the potential to destabilize an enemy country? Why wouldn’t I try?”