PM - 17

Being adaptable is key to life. For instance, if you like someone who has no interest in you, how do you make them come to you? With her position as emperor, Fuwēi sat comfortably in Zhangde Hall, waiting for the Chancellor to come and pay his respects. Once he arrived, how should she handle the situation? She pondered deeply while seated on her layered mat. Shangguan Zhao had to be saved—no matter what he said, she couldn’t abandon him. Life in the Zhaoyu Prison was harsh; she had sent people to investigate. The refined elegance of that young nobleman had completely vanished. Strapped to a wooden frame daily for interrogation and beatings—it was unimaginable torture. What was the most terrifying thing in this world? It was the grinding hatred between people. Even as an emperor, she could feel this chill—how much worse must it be for her friend Azhao, now a prisoner?

She glanced at the sun, estimating the time. But from the hour of Si until almost Shen, he still hadn’t come.

Her calculations had failed, which was disheartening, but she didn’t lose hope. At least the plan to rescue her old friend was underway. Once the six rites were completed, on the wedding day, the Imperial Prison would have to release him. Thus, crowning an empress served two purposes: restoring governance and saving a life—a great bargain indeed.

The initial rites—presentation of gifts, inquiry of the name, and confirmation of good fortune—were all entrusted to the Grand Master of Ceremonies and the Minister of Ancestral Affairs. Given the ominous celestial signs, preparing the wedding amidst such anxiety felt somewhat like finding joy in suffering. Yet, Fuwēi found it intriguing. Though she might never receive a marriage proposal herself, personally arranging one for someone else was quite enjoyable.

The Minister of the Imperial Household invited her to inspect the treasures: heaps of gold glittering brilliantly in the hall.

“Following the precedent set during Emperor Renzong’s marriage, the dowry includes twenty thousand catties of gold, along with ceremonial jade discs, sheep, horses, and silk—all according to ancient customs. Please inspect, Your Majesty.”

She leaned forward slightly, arms tucked into her sleeves. Marrying an emperor was truly expensive—but how much would an emperor be worth if the Chancellor were to propose to her? Surely no less than fifty thousand catties of gold!

She nodded. “Proceed as planned.” Turning to the Secretary, she asked, “Are the official documents and imperial seals ready?”

The Secretary replied affirmatively. “Everything is prepared, Your Majesty. Rest assured.”

Stepping out of the hall, she reflected for a moment, then felt a wave of melancholy. Her own wedding was unfolding like this—without joy, merely another bureaucratic task. All she felt was an eagerness to seize more power.

The next day, she personally visited the Chancellor’s residence to present the betrothal gifts. Traditionally, such matters were handled by subordinates, but to emphasize her close ties with the Chancellor and her high regard for the empress-to-be, the young emperor had to make the visit herself.

When the emperor traveled, it was no longer a solitary horseback ride through the streets. After the Astronomer Royal divined an auspicious time, the young emperor boarded a six-horse-drawn golden chariot, accompanied by five secondary carriages representing the five seasons. There were also attendants riding alongside, a total of thirty-six vehicles, forming a grand procession to the Chancellor’s residence. The pomp of the imperial entourage highlighted the importance of this marriage. She adjusted her embroidered apron, feeling the distinct texture of the gold-threaded patterns beneath her fingers. Peering out, she saw crowds of people kneeling along the streets to catch a glimpse of their sovereign. As they approached the Chancellor’s neighborhood, she wondered if he was already waiting. Suddenly, an unexpected urgency welled up in her heart. Viewing this ceremony as something between her and him made her feelings entirely different.

A Yellow Gate Attendant extended a hand to help her alight. As she stepped down, the jade pendants hanging from her waist clinked melodiously. Seeing him, she couldn’t help but smile. “My Lord Chancellor, you’ve waited long. I’ve come to present the betrothal gifts.”

The Chancellor met her gaze. Her eyes sparkled brilliantly, startling him into bowing deeply. She excelled at such double entendres, refraining from saying, “I’ve come to present your betrothal,” likely due to the crowd around them.

He gestured for the young emperor and the officiating officials to enter. Once seated, the Secretary read the formal proclamation: “To the daughter of Chancellor Xiangru, possessing the virtues befitting a mother of the realm, graceful and elegant, steadfast as mountains and rivers, worthy to serve the ancestral temples and perpetuate the heavenly mandate. With offerings of black jade, silk, horses, sheep, grain, and precious stones, we honor the rites. Today, emissaries bearing the imperial scepter, led by the Minister of Rites and the Grand Master of Ceremonies, present these gifts in accordance with tradition.”

The Chancellor bowed deeply and replied, “Your Majesty’s benevolent decree descends upon my humble household, elevating us with imperial favor and honoring us with solemn rites. We humbly accept this ancient tradition and respectfully observe its protocols.”

These convoluted phrases were obligatory for the ritual. Imperial affairs always emphasized complexity over simplicity. Fuwēi watched as they exchanged each item until gold filled the entire courtyard. She couldn’t help but reflect: no wonder seven-year-old Zhang Yan thought the emperor’s wedding was about “buying” a sister-in-law. Most royal marriages were transactions—even if love existed, it had to be cultivated after marriage.

Fuwēi longed to prop her chin on her hand, as the Chancellor under the morning light looked like a painting. Only by adopting a comfortable posture could she fully appreciate him. In the past, when she saw him in the dim shadows of the court, even discerning the fabric of his inner robe required effort. Now, standing in the sunlight, his handsome features and poised demeanor were striking. Watching him raise his hand to receive the document, she noticed the delicate red mark on his fingertips—it tugged at her heartstrings.

The young emperor lightly covered her nose and mouth. Whoever was being betrothed was just a pretense—the only suitable candidate was him.

The Secretary reported, “Your Majesty, the major rites are complete. Next will be setting the wedding date and the groom’s procession.”

She nodded. “Proceed according to ancient customs, ensuring the utmost grandeur.” With a wave of her hand, she continued, “The matter is settled. Everyone who accompanied the procession may return to the palace, leaving only a few guards. I will visit the empress-to-be and follow shortly.”

The Minister of Ancestral Affairs and others didn’t know her intentions but obeyed her orders and dispersed quickly.

The courtyard bustled with organizing the gold, cattle, and sheep, leaving only the young emperor and the Chancellor in the main hall. Sovereign and minister faced each other, their gazes intense.

“Is my Lord Chancellor displeased?” she asked innocently. “Are you reluctant because you’re sad to part with your beloved daughter?”

She knew full well that wasn’t the case but deliberately phrased it this way—sometimes this child really made one’s teeth itch with frustration.

The Chancellor denied it. “I am very pleased.”

“Then why aren’t you smiling?” She rose and approached, her dark robes accentuating her sharp features, her beauty almost too dazzling to behold.

He retreated half a step, clearly wary. In front of the ministers, he could move gracefully, but alone with her, he instinctively treated her like a dangerous beast.

Fuwēi eyed him sullenly. “What’s wrong, my Lord Chancellor? Are you so afraid of me? I’ve come today to propose marriage, not to provoke trouble. Didn’t you want me to crown Official Nie? I’ve done as you suggested—aren’t you happy yet?”

The Chancellor’s expression remained impassive, his tone distant. “I wish to discuss the general amnesty with Your Majesty.”

He couldn’t hold back any longer. She nodded, slowly walked to the door, and closed it before turning back. “Speak, my Lord Chancellor. I’m listening.”

Though closing the door was meant to intimidate him, the Chancellor, having witnessed countless grand occasions, suppressed his urge to flee. The room filled with incense smoke; she stood with her hands clasped behind her back, the light streaming in from behind casting her youthful figure in stark relief, making her seem almost menacing. The Chancellor averted his gaze. “Granting a general amnesty upon crowning an empress is customary—not only for crowning an empress but also for appointing a crown prince. I’ve already ordered all provinces and commanderies to release prisoners on the day of the amnesty. However, those guilty of treason and disrespect to the emperor are excluded. The anti-case from the tenth year of Yuanyou remains unresolved, so the prisoners in Zhaoyu Prison remain detained. I hereby report this to Your Majesty.”

Fuwēi had already anticipated his refusal. “The edict has been proclaimed to the world, my Lord Chancellor. Do you intend to oppose it? It’s appropriate for the principal offenders to be tried, but punishing nine generations requires my order. You needn’t worry about that.”

So, eager to fly before her wings were strong enough? The Chancellor spoke calmly. “I was entrusted by the late emperor to assist the young ruler and cannot disregard the empire for fleeting passions. Until the case is thoroughly investigated and the principal and accomplices are determined, releasing even one person would be akin to releasing a tiger back into the wild. Please reconsider, Your Majesty.”

Fuwēi grew deeply displeased. “What if I insist on releasing them?”

The Chancellor lowered his eyelashes, his voice cold. “Then I will have no choice but to inform the feudal lords and jointly submit a petition. I once warned Your Majesty—you are the sovereign of all people, governing the realm. You cannot act based on personal preferences. From ministers to commoners, all look to Your Majesty as an example. If you show favoritism, it will trickle down, and the nation will lose its legal framework.”

Submitting a joint petition with the feudal lords—wasn’t this a sign of rebellion? Indeed, old ginger was spicier. He always pinched her weak spots with perfect precision. Disobey? If she disobeyed, he would overthrow her, making her unfit to rule. Fuwēi knew her limits; confronting him head-on now was impossible—she lacked the strength.

With her hands tucked in her sleeves, she smirked faintly. “Why does my Lord Chancellor target Shangguan Zhao so fiercely? Is it jealousy because he was my childhood friend, fearing he might become a formidable rival?”

A chill crept up the Chancellor’s spine. “If he is on good terms with Your Majesty, how can he be considered a rival?”

She feigned innocence. “Aren’t you afraid of rivalry? After all, an emperor like me is quite endearing.”

The Chancellor flared up instantly, as if his tail had been stepped on. “Your Majesty, please conduct yourself with dignity. Words spoken without intent can still cause misunderstandings. If leaked, it could lead to another uproar.”

“But I meant every word,” she openly admitted to her petty schemes. “I haven’t seen Shangguan Zhao in years. Since he returned to his fiefdom, we’ve only exchanged letters, strictly observing the boundaries of lord and subject—I’ve done nothing improper, my Lord Chancellor. I’m a sentimental person. I still keep the illustrated books you once drew for me, let alone a friend who once shot cicadas with me! Release him for now—the investigation can continue. If he’s truly implicated, I’ll personally judge him, sparing you any difficulty. How’s that?”

She moved closer, pointing outward. “According to protocol, the dowry for an empress requires ten thousand catties of gold, but I ordered them to double it. My Lord Chancellor, with your brilliance, surely you understand my intentions?”

The Chancellor stared at her, unable to describe his feelings. “Your Majesty’s sudden change leaves me trembling with apprehension. Where did things go wrong that you’ve become… unrecognizable?”

Fuwēi inwardly thought, I’ve always been this way—outwardly solemn doesn’t mean I lack playfulness. When she was young, the timing wasn’t right; now it was. If she hesitated any longer, someone might arrange a match for her, and it would be too late.

“I think… it must be due to Mars’ influence,” she said, pressing her forehead. “Lately, I’ve been restless, speaking my mind without restraint. Please forgive me, my Lord Chancellor. Give it some time—it’ll settle.”

The Chancellor was indeed trying his hardest to adapt to her, but when would this tidal-like behavior end?

“If Your Majesty feels unwell, summon the imperial physician for a consultation. Don’t delay treatment.”

She shook her head slowly. “My pulse differs from men’s. The older I get, the more cautious I must be about summoning physicians… Regarding the matter we just discussed, my Lord Chancellor, considering the joyous occasion, could you make an exception?”

Her sincerity and duplicity were hard to decipher. If it were a minor issue, her mixture of softness and firmness might sway him. But when it came to state affairs, he was the type to rather kill a thousand innocents than let one guilty person escape.

“In this world, old affection is both the most reliable and the least reliable. Your Majesty may indulge in emotions, but I cannot. Regarding Shangguan Zhao, there is absolutely no room for negotiation. I’d rather Your Majesty hate me to the bone than jeopardize the empire to please you. Heaven and earth bear witness to my loyalty. If Your Majesty wishes to charge me with ‘criticizing an imperial edict,’ I willingly accept punishment. Decide my fate as you see fit.”

She fell silent, studying him intently for a long time as if scrutinizing a stranger. He, too, hardened his resolve, arrogantly turning his face away, exuding an air of never wanting to associate again.