PM - 19

The Chancellor had declined to attend the ice banquet in Huaguang Hall, but Fu Wei decided to proceed as planned.

The weather in the sixth month was becoming increasingly unbearable. The layered ceremonial robes worn during court sessions felt stifling after prolonged use, almost causing heat rashes. Only during these cooling banquets could she relax somewhat around her ministers. The imperial palace had stored ice from the previous year, and now that the season was right, the emperor ordered chilled noodles and summer soups prepared to entertain her close officials, fostering camaraderie between ruler and subjects.

Several key ministers were invited to the banquet, including the Grand Marshal and the Minister of War, all gathering to discuss the main agenda: the process of the emperor’s upcoming wedding.

The young emperor sat at the head of the hall, watching as they filed in, stopping at their respective seats, and raising their hands high in a formal bow. She nodded slightly, and the eunuch standing beside her announced loudly, “We thank you for your respectful greeting.”

Leaning on an armrest, she smiled gently and said, “Please, take your seats. Today is a private banquet, not a formal court session—there’s no need for excessive formality.”

The ministers expressed their gratitude. Though it was a season that often made one drowsy, gatherings like this allowed for lively conversation and drinking. However, due to the ominous “Mars retrograde” earlier this year, everyone seemed unusually restrained.

Fu Wei ordered wine poured and food served. Glancing down, she noticed the nobles sitting stiffly, making no sound at all. She murmured, “What is this? Because the Chancellor is absent today, do you all feel so disheartened? We’ve been serving together for over a decade—surely you have something to say to me!”

Her words jolted the crowd out of their stupor. They began forcing relaxed postures, discussing the weather or summer flowers, attempting to create an air of harmony.

The Grand Tutor, ever loyal, cared more about the young emperor’s well-being than those aligned with the Chancellor. Placing his cup down, he turned slightly toward her and said, “Your Majesty personally visiting the Chancellor’s residence for the betrothal gifts was unnecessary. I believe it was done out of respect for the Chancellor. For the subsequent rituals, such as setting the wedding date, allow the Grand Marshal and the Minister of Rites to handle them. These are extraordinary times, and Your Majesty must prioritize your health.”

Fu Wei nodded thoughtfully. “I understand your meaning, Master. Though celestial omens are unsettling, I am faring well—eating and sleeping without issue. Please rest assured. Overthinking matters only disturbs the mind; if we remain calm, all will be fine. That day, I discussed the wedding ceremonies with the Chancellor. Whatever the empress desires, we shall follow her wishes entirely.” Then, turning to the Grand Protector, she added, “However, I have another idea. The empress lost her father at a young age and holds the Chancellor in great affection. To avoid causing her grief, I wish to appoint the Chancellor and the Minister of War to oversee the arrangements. Would this be in line with propriety?”

The Grand Protector considered this and replied, “There is no precedent for a chancellor to act as the groom’s proxy, but given that the Chancellor holds the highest rank and has raised the empress since childhood, if Your Majesty grants special permission, there is nothing improper about it.”

She clapped her hands and laughed. “Excellent! Then let us proceed as I suggested. In these uneasy times, we need a grand celebration to boost morale. The Chancellor understands my intentions, and having him in charge puts my mind at ease.”

The ministers exchanged knowing glances. Rumors about her complicated relationship with the Chancellor had long spread throughout the court. After all, keeping wealth within the family meant even extravagant spending benefited those closest to the throne. Everyone understood this unspoken truth.

Privately, Fu Wei couldn’t help but smirk bitterly. Throughout history, how many emperors had tangled relationships with their fathers-in-law? Perhaps only she. She didn’t mind the gossip—in fact, the more outrageous, the better. With her reputation for being weak and passive, she was always perceived as the victim. The only concern was whether the Chancellor would feel uncomfortable.

The eunuchs poured fruit wine for the ministers, and she raised her cup, inviting them to drink together. The icy liquid flowed smoothly down her throat, its sharpness replaced by a subtle sweetness. Tracing the condensation on her goblet, she turned to the Chief Justice and asked, “That day, when the amnesty decree was read aloud in court, what progress has been made regarding the Wuling case? Where do things stand now?”

The Chief Justice immediately stood up and replied, “Yan Guang and the Prince of Zhao privately mobilized troops—this evidence is indisputable. As for Princess Guangyi and her husband, there are suspicions of covert actions. Originally, convicting them would have been effortless, but then a clerk unexpectedly changed his testimony, implicating the Jing and Yan clans… Your Majesty once instructed us to neither wrong nor overlook anyone. We dare not be negligent and are conducting a thorough investigation to safeguard the realm.”

Fu Wei sat cross-legged, listening intently. At the mention of Jing and Yan, a sudden realization dawned, and her smile grew warmer. “Very good. Diligent officials are a blessing to me. Reversing cases is no small matter, so don’t fear accusations of excessive punishment. Investigate thoroughly, and when the records are complete, present them to me for review.”

Historically, emperors often personally oversaw trials, but the young emperor had never participated before, usually only hearing final reports. Her decision to intervene now raised silent doubts among the ministers. The Chief Justice hesitated, unable to meet her gaze, and simply acknowledged her order with a “Yes,” retreating to his seat.

The atmosphere in the hall grew oppressive, resembling a morning court session rather than a leisurely banquet. To lighten the mood, the young emperor ordered music and games set up, inviting the ministers to sing elegantly or play pitch-pot. Initially reserved, the ministers soon warmed up, seeing her relaxed demeanor. After some hesitation, they spontaneously formed four teams. Losers were tasked with singing, dancing, or telling jokes, quickly filling the hall with laughter.

Fu Wei appointed herself the master of ceremonies, sitting idly to observe. Usually dignified ministers now let loose completely, leaning forward, squinting, tilting their heads—all with practiced ease. Those who missed groaned in disappointment, while those who succeeded celebrated wildly, entirely forgetting the emperor seated nearby. Though her face bore a faint smile, her thoughts remained focused on the names Jing and Yan. She knew the Chief Justice referred to the Princes of Jing and Yan collectively, yet the mention sparked other ideas. If memory served, the Chancellor’s paternal clan resided within the Prince of Jing’s fiefdom. Though the Yan clan avoided politics, they were a prestigious lineage in Jingchu. If they maintained ties with the Prince of Jing, how would the Chancellor navigate such entanglements?

It wasn’t that she enjoyed playing dirty; who wouldn’t prefer a reputation for kindness? But his actions pushed too far, leaving her with no choice but to defend herself using calculated strategies.

“Send word to Wei Shihang,” she whispered to the Grand Tutor. “Investigate the social connections of the Yan clan in Jingchu. This case may widen its net, and I don’t want half the empire dragged into it. In just a few months, chaos has erupted, and every noble feels threatened—a situation unfavorable to me. Someone is orchestrating this behind the scenes. While I doubt it’s the Chancellor, I still need his assistance.”

The Grand Tutor, seasoned in political maneuvering, understood the implications and bowed deeply. “I’ll send an urgent eight-hundred-mile dispatch to Wei Shihang…”

Suddenly, a burst of laughter interrupted his words. All eyes turned to Pang Xin, the Minister of Works, pleading, “Before Your Majesty, I dare not speak recklessly. I accept any penalty—just spare me, esteemed lords.”

Fu Wei sighed inwardly. Beneath their outward refinement, these pillars of the court harbored wild spirits. None were easy to deal with. In past ice banquets, bawdy jokes always enlivened the festivities, and Pang Xin excelled at delivering them, rarely missing a performance.

Though emperors were often depicted as solemn figures detached from worldly pleasures, history conveniently omitted certain truths. Take, for instance, the dynasty’s founding ancestor, who casually cursed others’ ancestors when displeased—who dared object? Such traditions persisted into her reign, where maintaining appearances required encouraging Pang Xin to push the revelry to its peak. Smiling demurely was abandoned for raucous laughter. With a wave of her hand, she said, “Go ahead, entertain everyone. Speak freely.”

Pang Xin cleared his throat and began, “In a certain village lived a poor scholar who worked during the day and couldn’t afford lamp oil at night to study. His neighbor, a wealthy family, lit their home brightly every evening. Discovering this, the scholar drilled a hole in the wall…”

The tale of borrowing light through a hole in the wall was familiar, eliciting a predictable finish from someone in the crowd: “From then on, he studied diligently and became a renowned scholar, right?”

But Pang Xin grinned mischievously. “On the contrary, the scholar abandoned his studies entirely. There was no great literary figure here!”

Everyone froze, then burst into exclamations of mock outrage. Though not overtly crude, the joke left Fu Wei feeling slightly awkward. Just then, the Grand Tutor approached, slipping a scroll into her hand and whispering, “I fear the Empress Dowager hesitates to teach Your Majesty certain vital lessons, believing you aren’t her biological child. As your tutor, I must step forward. With your impending marriage, understanding marital relations is crucial. Please study this carefully upon returning to your chambers. Should anything confuse you, I’ll explain further.”

The Grand Tutor spoke gravely. Hesitant, Fu Wei tucked the scroll into her sleeve and whispered, “What is this, Master?”

His stern face betrayed nothing as he squeezed out three words through gritted teeth: “Fire-avoidance diagrams.”

So-called fire-avoidance diagrams were merely a euphemism for erotic art. Raised with a man’s education, Fu Wei wasn’t particularly shy about such things. Still, she wondered who would have taught her these lessons. Her mother had passed away early, leaving her with no memories of her face. Who would guide her now? She’d speculated it might be the Empress Dowager, the Palace Mistress, or even an eunuch—but never the Grand Tutor. Imagining the grizzled, fifty-something-year-old man discussing intimate matters was…unthinkable.

Flustered but pretending composure, she returned to Zhangde Hall, her cheeks still burning. Fire-avoidance diagrams—legendary yet unseen until now. Curious, she reasoned that though the content wasn’t immediately applicable, studying it beforehand couldn’t hurt.

After lighting incense and dismissing her attendants, she knelt formally before her desk. First critiquing the scroll’s plain appearance, she unfurled it fully and examined it closely. Only then did she grasp the saying “don’t judge by appearances.” What was that grotesque thing between the legs? Women’s waists appeared absurdly flexible, contorting into unimaginable poses—it was profoundly intricate and bizarre!

Following the Grand Tutor’s advice, she studied the diagrams meticulously for half a day. Eventually, slumped over the desk in a daze, she reflected: the final act between men and women seemed simple enough, but the preceding steps were arduous. A hesitant partner was tolerable, but a virtuous one? Pure disaster.

Had the Chancellor seen this? At his age, surely he knew what to do! If only she dared, presenting the diagrams to him for guidance… No, too embarrassing. Letting him think she lacked shame would backfire spectacularly.

Nevertheless, news of the Grand Tutor gifting her the fire-avoidance diagrams soon reached the Empress Dowager.

Empress Dowager Liang sighed deeply. “Time flies—soon Your Majesty will turn sixteen. At this age, concubines are customary. Ensuring the continuation of the imperial line is paramount. Select three presentable candidates from last year’s consorts and send them to Zhangde Hall.” Whispering to Fu Mu, she added, “Those who serve solely through beauty cannot endure. Your Majesty is newly acquainted with passion—if indulgence takes hold, it will harm the empress in the future. Accompany them and ensure the Historian records their entry.” Checking the almanac, she muttered, “Two months remain. May the heavens bless us; may this joyous occasion dispel ill omens…”

Fu Mu obeyed and promptly selected three servant girls from Yongxiang Lane, leading them into the Eastern Palace at dusk.

Jianye, spotting figures entering the palace gates, saw shadowy silhouettes moving along the walls, their faces indistinct. He called out sharply, “Who goes there? Night approaches—no unauthorized persons allowed!”

“It’s me,” Fu Mu stepped into the light, smiling at Jianye. “By the Empress Dowager’s command, I bring selected consorts to serve His Majesty’s bedchamber.”

The emperor had grown up—it was a necessary step. Realizing this, Jianye’s face broke into a broad smile. Casting a quick glance at the three servant girls, he bowed to Fu Mu and said, “Thank you for your efforts, Madam Liu. Please wait in the eastern hall while I inform His Majesty.”

Madam Liu nodded silently, gesturing for the chosen women to follow her into the Wen Pavilion adjacent to Zhangde Hall.