PM - 2

Exiting the Yuecheng Gate of the Eastern Palace, passing through the Canglong Gate, and finally reaching the Chancellor’s residence would take roughly two incense sticks’ worth of time if sent as an urgent report. At this hour, the Chancellor should already be resting. Even if he were to wash, change, and ride into the palace at full speed, it would still take at least half an hour.

The young emperor stood by the window, gazing outward. The palace walls were built high, obscuring any view of the outside lights. Only the faint glow from the lanterns lining the central pathway connected like stars in the sky.

Though early summer had just begun, the nights weren’t overly hot. A subtle coolness permeated the air, and if one paid close attention, they could catch the scent of dew on the grass. The young emperor tilted her head to listen. Silence reigned as usual—this vast palace complex became eerily quiet at night, resembling the underworld. Only the occasional tinkling of wind chimes brushing against the eaves and the faint chirping of the two crickets in their cage served as reminders that life still persisted.

The moon hung high in the sky. The young emperor raised a hand and closed the lattice window. Turning toward the imperial desk, she walked while feeling blood trickle down. Glancing back, she saw spots dotting the floor. She paused, then changed direction and rummaged through the wardrobe, pulling on every pair of trousers she could find. She tied the pant legs securely with ribbons, then wiped away the bloodstains with a cloth.

How rare it was for an emperor to be so self-reliant! She once had attendants close to her, but before her ascension, they all vanished. Her biological mother had been subjected to the “remove the mother, leave the child” policy, and even her wet nurses were silenced. She had learned to eat, dress, and bathe herself. Even without servants, she managed perfectly well.

She had once sought answers as to why, despite there being others in the Yuan family, she was chosen to ascend the throne. Years later, she discovered it was due to the late emperor’s selfishness. To please Emperor Wen, he falsely claimed to have sired a son—her. He intended to name another prince as heir after his harem produced a male heir, but fate intervened before that could happen. To conceal the truth or perhaps to spare more lives, the five-year-old girl was hastily placed on the throne—a position she had held for ten long years.

Ten years—it felt like an eternity. If not for today’s events, she might have forgotten she was a girl. Over the years, she had navigated the precarious balance between imperial power and the regent’s authority. Reflecting on it, her survival was largely due to the late emperor. He was a man of deep cunning. When entrusting the regency, he told the Chancellor, “If Princess Ying’s identity is exposed, you may take her place.” Without those words, her grave would likely be overgrown with three feet of grass by now.

A young girl, a mere child emperor—easy to manipulate. The young emperor smiled faintly, settling cross-legged before the long desk. She opened a scroll, ground ink, picked up her brush, and wrote four characters on silk: I lack virtue.

Today, the young emperor faced a grave illness and feared her days were numbered. Thus, she began drafting her final edict to designate the next emperor. Earlier, when she mentioned the Wei Prince and the Xia Ying Marquis in front of the junior eunuch, it was no accident. Both men were of age—if either ascended the throne, there would no longer be a need for a regent. What use would the Chancellor have then? If forced to choose between them and her, who would the Chancellor pick? Imperial strategy often required taking risks. If she chose to remain a puppet controlled by others, she could simply let the Chancellor dictate her actions—he wouldn’t harm her. But if she wished to reclaim supreme authority and rule the realm, she needed to think carefully, seizing every opportunity to steer events in her favor.

Power, when wielded from such great heights, inevitably bred ambition. Everyone was the same. Though a woman, she was undeniably the descendant of the mighty Emperor Weilie. Her ancestors had fought tooth and nail to establish the empire, yet her circumstances were far better than theirs. Did she not possess at least half their courage? She understood the allure of power too well. With the realm in her hands, everything she desired would be hers—even those she coveted could eventually belong to her, given enough effort.

The massive and heavy Yuecheng Gate groaned painfully with each opening and closing. Finally, there was movement. She held her breath and listened intently, hearing a series of footsteps along the corridor. Moments later, a shadow appeared on the curtains outside the inner chamber.

Tall and imposing, dressed in formal attire, the silhouette unmistakably belonged to the Chancellor. If there was one person whose presence could ignite her full energy and resolve, it was him. In public, the young emperor appeared mild and moderate, but her true nature was best understood by the Chancellor.

She clenched her fists and called out in a panicked tone, “Who’s there?”

The figure lifted the curtain and entered. The bright lamplight illuminated his resplendent robes. She saw the swirling clouds and thunder patterns on his collar and the layered tiger motifs radiating menace.

The Chancellor’s appearance hadn’t changed much over the past decade. She remembered their first meeting vividly. As a young general, he had been celebrated for his military exploits, clad in black armor that gleamed dully under the sun. His entire demeanor was cold and unyielding. Back then, she was small and wobbled over to touch the scales on his armor. He looked down at her, his iron mask fierce and terrifying, reducing her to tears.

In Fu Wei’s mind, only ugly people wore masks to hide their shame. Thus, she assumed he must look worse beneath it. She turned to flee but was caught by him. He had been close friends with the late emperor and felt free to embrace the crown prince. Ignoring her struggles, he lifted her and held her at chest level. Fu Wei’s cries echoed throughout the Deyang Hall, but no one came to rescue her. As he reached to remove his mask, she braced herself for the worst. To her surprise, his face bore no resemblance to the fearsome mask. Later, she learned that his mother, Lady Ru, was renowned for her beauty, and he inherited her handsome features. Even after her death, Emperor Wen continued to dote on him.

Time was not kind to everyone, but Fu Wei was grateful that one day she would catch up to him. When they were equals, she would no longer fear him.

Even with the bow replaced by a tablet, the Chancellor’s commanding presence remained unchanged. He entered without announcement or bow, addressing her simply as “My Lord,” which was already a sign of respect.

Fu Wei rose, feigning surprise. “It’s so late. Why has Father Regent come to the palace?”

The Chancellor spoke little, but the arrogance of a powerful minister inevitably leaked through, even if subtly masked.

“I heard My Lord was unwell and came to inquire,” he said, tucking his sleeves. “Summer has arrived—why are you wearing so many layers? Are you cold?”

Fu Wei glanced down at her conspicuously bulky figure and made no attempt to hide it. “My stomach hurts.”

The Chancellor nodded. “Indeed, you’re unwell. For stomach pain, you should summon the court physician. Have you sent for the Imperial Medical Office?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing serious. Summoning them would disturb the Yong’an Palace. It’s so late—I don’t want the Empress Dowager to worry about me.”

The Chancellor hummed, casually surveying the room. His gaze finally settled on the imperial desk. “I lack virtue … My Lord intends to issue a self-censure edict?”

His words were always cutting, but Fu Wei was used to it. “Father Regent has worked tirelessly for the state. Thanks to your efforts, the nation prospers, and the court is at peace. Your achievements will surely be recorded in history. If I were to blame myself, wouldn’t it undermine your legacy?” She deflected smoothly, sweeping her sleeve to roll up the scroll.

The dynamic between ruler and minister was fraught with tension, as it had been for the past decade. Despite his overwhelming power, Fu Wei’s attitude toward him remained respectful but never obsequious. After hundreds of rounds of sparring, the Chancellor knew her temperament well.

He drawled again, pulling a cloth bundle from his sleeve and handing it to her. “This is something the maidservants in my household requested. It should alleviate My Lord’s immediate concern.”

Fu Wei unwrapped the package to find several thick pads neatly arranged inside. She squeezed them lightly, hearing a rustling sound. Upon closer inspection, they were folded layers of white paper used for rituals. She turned them over curiously. “What does Father Regent mean by this?”

A girl who grew up alone lacked guidance on how to handle bodily changes. As the only person aware of her secret, the Chancellor not only oversaw state affairs but also managed her personal challenges.

He extended two fingers, lifting one of the pads by its corner and demonstrating on himself. “I consulted experts. The straps should be tied around the waist…” He gestured on his own body. “Like this. Tighten them to prevent slipping during movement. Check privately when alone—if soaked through, replace them promptly to avoid drawing unwanted attention and causing trouble.” He fixed his gaze on her. “I hope I arrived in time. Is it true that My Lord experienced continuous bleeding today?”

Fu Wei blushed. “Nothing escapes Father Regent’s notice. I was deeply troubled, unsure what caused the injury. Fortunately, you’ve arrived, and I can seek your guidance. I ate and drank normally tonight and didn’t meet with external ministers. After bathing and changing, I burned incense and rested. Then I felt a dull ache in my lower abdomen, though I didn’t think much of it. Later, I fell asleep and soon wet the bed. Upon checking, I found blood…”

As Grand Tutor, the Chancellor had taught the young emperor her lessons, making it natural for her to consult him. She described the situation in detail. Though somewhat uncomfortable, he patiently explained, “My Lord, rest assured—it’s not an illness. It’s a natural occurrence for girls as they mature. From now on, it will happen monthly, lasting three to seven days. Avoid cold foods, and it will naturally subside.”

Still visibly worried, she asked, “The bleeding is profuse—I fear I might die from it.”

The Chancellor reassured her. “It’s impure blood—harmless if expelled.”

The young emperor relaxed slightly. “Father Regent is truly erudite, knowledgeable even in these matters. But since this pertains to women’s health, surely men don’t use such pads. Father Regent procured so many—won’t others grow suspicious?”

At this, an awkward expression flickered across the Chancellor’s otherwise composed face. Knocking on maids’ doors in the dead of night to request menstrual pads still made him shudder. But great achievements required overlooking minor inconveniences. As long as the immediate crisis was resolved, any ensuing complications could be managed.

He bowed slightly. “My Lord, rest assured. No one else will know of this matter. I’ll handle everything discreetly.”

It seemed the two eunuchs wouldn’t return. The young emperor nodded. “Let me ask further—this blood, is it called menstruation? Why do all girls experience this?”

The Chancellor furrowed his brow thoughtfully. “The Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon records that at seven, a girl’s kidney energy flourishes, her teeth renew, and her hair grows. At fourteen, heavenly water arrives, the Ren meridian opens, and the Chong meridian thrives. Menstruation occurs regularly, enabling conception.”

Fu Wei inwardly rejoiced. After circling the topic, they had finally arrived at the heart of the matter. She smiled meaningfully. “Enabling conception… So from today, I am no longer a child. Recently, Father Regent fell ill, and I intended to invite you to the palace but feared it inconvenient. Since you’re here now and we’ve discussed private matters, may I speak with you about state affairs?”

The Chancellor nodded. “My Lord, please proceed.”

She gestured for him to sit and poured him a cup of tea, speaking gently. “Since ascending the throne, I’ve benefited greatly from Father Regent’s care. You’ve been both my teacher and father figure… Do you recall my age?”

She had ascended at five and presided over court for a full decade—everyone, from princes to ministers, knew this. Yet the astute Chancellor feigned ignorance. “If I’m not mistaken, My Lord hasn’t yet reached the age of jī (hairpin ceremony)?”

Fu Wei smiled, unperturbed. “Amidst national affairs, Father Regent forgot that I’ll turn sixteen this November.”

The Chancellor was genuinely surprised. “How time flies! My Lord has grown so much!”

“Indeed,” she sighed, feigning helplessness. “Our dynasty has a tradition: emperors must select a consort at sixteen. Given my current circumstances, I cannot disrupt this rule. Father Regent sees my predicament clearly. The more secrets I harbor, the less I dare neglect protocol. Others may not understand or pity me, but you do. After much deliberation, I fear burdening you further. Perhaps abdicating would be best.” She raised her eyes, capturing the radiant light within them. “Between Xia Ying Marquis Yuan Yan and Wei Prince Yuan Yangzheng… whom does Father Regent deem more suitable?”