Chapter Forty-Four: Spring Couplets and Door Guardians

After being “reprimanded” by Li Kong, Li Ji no longer had the face to remain in the other courtyard; somewhat embarrassed, he fled back to the rear garden.

As evening approached, little Cui Zhu finally returned. She brought back a vast assortment of goods—at least a hundred different items. Apart from beef and mutton, there were many things Li Kong had never seen before. Was that long thing a yam? Did yams even exist in this era? Probably… yes?

He rummaged through the bundles and found that most were foodstuffs; there were few daily necessities, and only three sets of clothes—one for Li Yue’e and two for Li Kong himself.

Though they now had money, the lives of servants during New Year’s were not much different from ordinary days, except for slightly better meals. What mattered most to them was the festive atmosphere.

“Where are your clothes? Why don’t you have any?” Li Kong set the clothes aside and looked at Cui Zhu.

Cui Zhu paused, then replied, “We’ve never had any, young master. But you needn’t worry! We started making ourselves some clothes a month ago. The fabric is reused, but it’s almost as good as new.”

Li Kong frowned. “There’s still time before the Lantern Festival. Let’s forget New Year’s for now, but go and have new clothes made for everyone. By the Lantern Festival, all of you must be wearing new clothes.”

Hearing this, Cui Zhu was momentarily stunned, her heart filling with gratitude. Though she had known for some time that this young master never looked down on servants like them, she could not help being moved when he took such concrete action.

“What are you standing around for? Go! And get some spring couplets as well—what’s a New Year without couplets?” Li Kong waved impatiently and stepped into his bedroom.

He had almost asked for door gods as well, but realized that, at this point in history, they hadn’t been invented yet; it would be at least another decade before they appeared. Since there weren’t any, he decided to make some himself—he’d already chosen the characters, upright and heroic.

However, what Li Kong considered a flawless arrangement left Cui Zhu utterly bewildered, especially the matter of spring couplets. What on earth were those?

In this era, spring couplets were not yet fully formed; not even in their transitional stage. At best, there was only their earliest prototype, known as “peach charms.” These were heart-shaped sachets made by women with needle and thread, usually bearing only a few auspicious characters, and hung on either side of the main door. In essence, they served simply to make the entrance less bare and represented a wish for a year free from poverty.

Spring couplets as we know them would not truly develop until the Ming dynasty, reaching their peak after the Manchu conquest. Clearly, Li Kong’s plan was doomed to fail.

Cui Zhu debated whether to explain all this to Li Kong. She knew him well—if he were idling, it might be fine, but he hated being disturbed while busy; she herself had nearly been scolded for this once, and preferred not to risk it.

Fortunately, Li Yue’e was also unfamiliar with spring couplets. After reassuring Cui Zhu, she sent her out to buy other goods and went straight to Li Kong’s room.

“What? No spring couplets?” Li Kong looked at Li Yue’e in surprise, then sighed helplessly. Indeed, the Tang dynasty had no spring couplets. He had noticed a few heart-shaped sachets among the New Year’s goods earlier, probably made by Cui Zhu and the other maidservants, not purchased.

He hadn’t given them much thought before, but now… it seemed he would have to introduce spring couplets ahead of schedule. Having lived in modern times for decades, he found it hard to imagine a New Year’s without them.

“There really aren’t any. What are spring couplets, Kong’er?”

“Well… never mind for now, Mother. Please have someone cut some strips of red cloth, about a palm wide and three feet long. Six pairs to start with; we’ll see about the rest once I’m done.”

In the past, Li Yue’e might have protested, as cloth was expensive in those days. Even the imperial family sometimes could not afford new clothes each year. But now, Li Kong had so much money that she no longer cared about such things; with his ability to earn, fabric was no longer a concern. There was no question of thrift—none at all.

With a mix of anxiety and anticipation, Li Yue’e left his room and instructed the servants to cut the cloth and send it to Li Kong.

The next day, just before dawn.

Exhausted, Li Kong tossed aside his brush, gazing with satisfaction at the ten paintings before him—five pairs, to be precise. On the left stood the famed general Zhao Zilong of Changshan from the Three Kingdoms era, clad in white robes, wielding a long spear, a golden sword at his waist, exuding heroic vigor.

On the right was Ran Min, the Martial King of the Five Barbarians period. Li Kong had softened his features somewhat, rendering him less ferocious and more righteous in appearance.

As for the spring couplets, he wrote some famous ones from his previous life, such as “On myriad doors the rising sun shines bright, new peach wood charms replace the old overnight,” and others.

He massaged his numb face, lay back on his soft couch, pulled up the quilt, and drifted into sleep.

He slept until noon, only to be awakened by the worried Li Yue’e. Blinking sleepily at her anxious face, he quickly sat up. “Mother, what’s wrong? I just stayed up a bit late last night. Besides, you know your son’s constitution—there’s nothing to worry about.”

Li Yue’e let out a long breath. “I know, but I can’t help worrying. Now that you’re up, come eat lunch—it’s ready. You can sleep again afterward.”

“No need. Since I’m up, I won’t go back to sleep. Besides, I need to direct the others this afternoon when we put up the door gods and couplets. Without my guidance, who knows what they’d do.”

Li Yue’e’s attention was drawn to the couplets and door gods laid out on the table. She’d glanced at them earlier; although she wasn’t highly educated, she had learned to read and write a little while serving the Empress in the Li Shimin household.

She could tell that the couplets conveyed good wishes, but found nothing particularly remarkable about them. As for the door gods—well, she didn’t recognize a single one.

Still, since her son had worked so hard on them all night, she was happy to put them up. After all, there were no outsiders in this courtyard. She’d treat it as a bit of amusement for her son—simple as that!