Reborn as Li Chengqian: My Second Lingyan Pavilion

In the ninth year of the Zhenguan era, Li Chengqian woke from a dream and found himself back on his wedding night.

In his previous life, he was a disgraced crown prince. His leg was crippled, his mother died, his wife was executed by imperial decree, and none of his four younger sisters lived to adulthood. On a rainy night in Qianzhou, he breathed his last with his eyes still open.

In this life, he was bound to the Lingyan Pavilion System, which could summon seven peerless talents who had died with regrets from the long river of history.

But the System had a flaw: it wouldn’t tell him whom it had summoned or when they would arrive. All he could do was wait, wait for someone who could share his burdens to step out of the river of history and appear before him.

The first to arrive was Auntie Ai. “There’s still hope for Your Highness’s leg,” she said. Only later did he learn that her name was Yi Shuo, the first female imperial physician in Chinese history.

The second was Ge Xuan, a scholar from Xiangyang. After reading through the files on the Liangzhou case, he tapped the name of the man who had recommended the suspect and said, “Your Highness, this case isn’t about the horse or the dike. It’s about the man who recommended him.” Only later did Li Chengqian learn that this man wasn’t called Ge Xuan. His name was Zhuge Liang.

The third stood on the training field, took a bow from the Eastern Palace guards, and hit the bullseye with a single arrow. He said his name was Yue Peng, a refugee from Hebei. But Li Chengqian noticed that when he shot, his gaze was as solemn as the bell in the Yuewang Temple.

As these “odd characters” gathered in the Eastern Palace, Li Shimin began to suspect the advisers around his son more and more. One day, he summoned Li Chengqian and asked, “Who exactly are these advisers of yours?”

Li Chengqian fell silent for a moment, then bowed. “Father, you have the twenty-four meritorious officials of the Lingyan Pavilion. This unworthy son would like a few people of his own, too.”

(Not entirely historically accurate)