PM - 63

In just a few days, the New Year would arrive. The days leading up to the holiday always seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.

Fu Wei asked her closest ministers, “Are all of you very busy at home during this time? Preparing Tu Su wine and Wu Xin platters—everything needs to be ready…”

Grand Tutor Sun Mo had an old wife who, in her younger years, was notoriously fierce. While he was revered as the emperor’s mentor in court, at home, she would twist his ears and make him kneel—a common occurrence, it was said. Despite this, Grand Tutor seemed to take it in stride. Shielding his eyes from the sun with a raised hand, he chuckled, “My mountain-wife has already prepared everything. She even made a box of Jiao Ya Tang, which she will send to Your Majesty for tasting after it sets for a couple more days.”

Fu Wei rarely indulged in sweets, but one year during the first month, she had visited the Grand Tutor’s home as a guest and happened to taste the Jiao Ya Tang, lavishing praise on Lady Zhang’s culinary skills. The emperor lacked nothing materially, yet what she craved most was care and warmth. Thus, every year at this time, Lady Zhang personally prepared snacks and sweets to send into the palace for the young emperor to enjoy.

Fu Wei was deeply grateful. “Please convey my thanks to your wife, Teacher.”

The Grand Tutor murmured his acknowledgment and muttered under his breath, “She’s kind to everyone except me—always shouting at me.” He was referring, of course, to his long-suffering spouse.

Sun Mo laughed. “A beating is a sign of closeness, and scolding is a sign of love. Even if you hadn’t mentioned it, we all know that.”

The Grand Tutor’s face flushed with embarrassment as he waved his hand dismissively. “Enough of that. My daughter, who is married far away, is returning home for the New Year. In July, she gave birth to a grandson, and though they sent the good news, I haven’t had time to visit them. Fortunately, they’re coming to the capital for the holiday. With a new addition to the family, this is truly a joyous occasion.”

Everyone hurriedly offered their congratulations, bowing deeply, and the Grand Tutor returned their gestures with equal enthusiasm. Then, turning to Fu Wei, he urged earnestly, “With the upcoming change of era name, everything will be renewed. We also hope Your Majesty will soon bear a royal heir. Once a crown prince is established, the foundation of our nation and dynasty will be firmly secured, and no one will be able to shake Your Majesty’s throne. Do you understand my meaning?”

Fu Wei understood perfectly well. A man only became a true man when he had a son. The Grand Tutor, ever concerned for the state and its people, naturally didn’t forget to worry about matters within her private chambers. She nodded obediently, replying, “Teacher speaks wisely. I too look forward to good news every day. However, such things cannot be rushed—they must unfold in their own time. The empress is still young, and conceiving now would not be beneficial to her health.”

Thus, the Grand Tutor found a new objective and began fervently urging her to expand the imperial harem. Throughout history, even the most morally upright emperors conducted periodic selections of consorts every few years. Now that the young emperor had taken an empress, adding a few favored concubines to her household was entirely reasonable—not for anything else, but for the sake of producing heirs. The more sons an imperial family had, the more stable the empire. The clearest example of failure in this regard was her late father, who had only her—one child. Without brothers to support her, an ambitious fake uncle had stepped in as regent, nearly causing the dynasty to collapse.

When it came to personal matters, Fu Wei was merely a student, accepting guidance without question. The Grand Tutor prattled on endlessly, to the point where even Sun Mo grew weary of listening—but the teacher himself never tired. Fu Wei could only respond vaguely, saying, “Let us set aside these concerns until after the pressing affairs are settled. For now, the overall situation remains unstable, so romantic matters must wait.” Then, after a moment’s thought, she added, “After a year of hard work, I see how exhausted all the ministers are. In past years, the New Year’s respite lasted only five days. This year, let us extend it as a gesture of goodwill—to seven days! After the morning assembly on the first day, everyone may disperse: those who wish to visit relatives can do so, and Teacher, you may spend time doting on your grandson. As for me…” A faint blush colored her cheeks. “I’ve been so busy lately that I’ve neglected Fangqing. During the New Year’s break, I’ll take the opportunity to spend some quality time with him.”

Without exception, all the officials assumed this “Fangqing” referred to the empress. It had been over two months since the emperor and empress were married, and the young emperor’s dedication to state affairs had inevitably caused her to neglect the maintenance of their marital bond. To produce an heir, they needed time together. How could children come into being if husband and wife weren’t sharing the same bed?

Such a legitimate reason naturally earned the Grand Tutor’s full support. “At the first court session of the New Year, whether willingly or not, the chancellor must return the six imperial seals. Once the seals are in Your Majesty’s hands, you can rest easy. Such a joyous occasion calls for a few days of rest and self-reward.”

After a year of relentless toil, the prospect of rest brought delight to everyone. Fu Wei exchanged a few more casual words with them before the ministers returned to their respective offices. Standing beneath the bright sun, she gazed into the distant sky and murmured, “Spring arrives before the New Year…”

Bu Hai, standing nearby, responded, “This is a rare occurrence—once in a decade. Next year’s harvest will surely be bountiful.”

She smiled. “May the nation prosper, the people live in peace, and the common folk enjoy abundant food and clothing.” Slowly walking along the imperial path, her waist adorned with jade pendants swayed gently in the warm breeze, emitting a delicate tinkling sound.

The attendant, Shangguan Zhao, followed at a respectful distance. After walking for a while, she turned back to look at him. “Zhao, there’s something I’d like to entrust to you.”

Shangguan Zhao stepped forward, bowing low with his sword pressed against his chest. “Your Majesty, please give your orders.”

She hesitated for a moment, then tilted her head shyly. “Prepare some hairpins, jewelry, rouge, powder, and dresses for me—long, flowing skirts that trail below the knees, the kind women wear.” Meeting his surprised gaze, she nodded. “I want to try them on.”

A girl who had never worn women’s clothing naturally harbored such desires. Especially when she had someone she liked, she wanted to present her best self to him. After all, how many men enjoyed embracing someone whose gender was ambiguous? Only a rare breed like the chancellor could remain indifferent to such distinctions.

Shangguan Zhao always regarded her with a tolerant gaze, and now he smiled. “Does Your Majesty trust my judgment?”

She replied confidently, “Certainly more than mine.”

Very well—even if she wasn’t dressing up for him, allowing him to craft her image according to his vision of her was a happy task.

“Once I’ve prepared everything, I’ll place it in my residence. Please honor my humble abode with your presence.” He planned to arrange a discreet carriage and driver, ensuring her movements remained unnoticed. In this way, she would gain a brief moment of freedom.

A wistful smile played at the corners of her lips, and her eyes sparkled with golden hope. Gently gripping his hand, she whispered, “Thank you, Zhao.”

If it makes you happy, then it’s worth it—isn’t that a cliché? He remained silent, lowering his head as a pang of emotion hit him. Perhaps the fickle weather was making him feel unwell.

The two Hu cavalry divisions—the Chang River and Xuan Qu forces—that the chancellor had spoken of were finally stationed near the capital, encamped outside the Chunming Gate. Finding a rare moment of leisure, Fu Wei ordered the Ministry of Ceremonial Rites to prepare a modest imperial procession, led by the chancellor, to inspect the troops. It wasn’t enough for them to recognize the imperial banner—they also needed to recognize her face. She intended to let these Hu soldiers see her, remember her features, and ensure smooth cooperation in the future.

The emperor’s entourage, even at its most minimal, was grand. For this small-scale procession, attended by the chancellor and accompanied by a retinue, the spectacle was still awe-inspiring.

The Chunming Gate lay east of the imperial city, and three li beyond it stretched the vast expanse of the Changhe Plain, where the two Hu cavalry camps were stationed. Hu Lü Pu Zhao, who had once served as a commander of the Xuan Qu cavalry, led the way. Midway through the journey, the Hu riders turned their heads, recognizing their former commander holding the imperial banner and riding ahead of the majestic imperial carriage. These proud Hu warriors immediately knelt in reverence.

Fu Wei leaned out of the carriage door, and the chancellor stood beside the wooden steps, extending his arm to assist her. Yet she declined his help, stepping down from the carriage on her own. Looking around, she saw rows of tents stretching along the water’s edge, winding off into the distance. Coming to a halt, several generals from the central camp approached briskly, their armor clinking as they knelt on one knee and saluted. “We did not expect Your Majesty’s arrival and have delayed in welcoming you. Please forgive us.”

She smiled, raising her hand slightly. “I’ve come to see my loyal troops—no need for such formality. Rise. You’ve traveled far to be transferred here from the Chang River. Are you adjusting well?”

The young emperor’s gentle words moved these rugged soldiers deeply, and they bowed repeatedly, expressing gratitude. “As soldiers, we are accustomed to traveling north and south. We thank Your Majesty for your concern.”

The young emperor nodded, turning to the chancellor. “Both the Hu cavalry and Yue cavalry are among the finest and strongest forces of our empire. Heroes deserve fine horses. Order the Yellow Gate Office to allocate the superior horses tributed by Da Yuan and other Western Regions countries to these two divisions first.”

The chancellor bowed deeply. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She then pointed to the commanders of the Chang River and Xuan Qu divisions. “Increase their rank to 2,000 shi of grain annually, and raise the salaries of all subordinate officers and assistants by 30 percent. As for the soldiers themselves, they have pledged loyalty to our empire, and their families are now our citizens. Ensure their families are properly settled, and besides the monthly rations of millet, add an additional hu per month. Chancellor, please oversee these arrangements—I trust you won’t disappoint me.”

When it came to winning hearts, she spared no expense. The Hu cavalry commanders, previously stationed far away in Lantian, had received meager salaries. Though the Hu people had submitted to the court, they were still often viewed as barbarians, forever considered inferior. Young men might endure such treatment, but the elderly, weak, and women suffered even more. Now, with the emperor extending her favor, it was clear how much importance she placed on them. The commanders were invigorated, and their loyalty to the crown deepened.

The young emperor stayed for half an hour, observing the Hu riders’ archery and combat techniques. Their methods differed from those of the Central Plains—their ferocity honed by a life of raw survival. It was both astonishing and terrifying.

Surrounded by the generals, the chancellor remained close by. She refrained from interacting too much with him during the inspection. On the way back, she finally asked, “I heard that the Hu people eat raw meat. Is that true?”

The chancellor sat across from her in the golden carriage, chuckling. “There were even rumors once that the Hu ate children. Does Your Majesty believe that?”

She laughed, brushing her forehead. “I must have been confused. But looking at how strong they all are, it’s no wonder they’re called iron cavalry.”

The chancellor replied, “Under Your Majesty’s benevolent rule, they will pledge their unwavering loyalty. These Hu people are fiercely loyal—if you give them a dou of grain, they will repay you with a sheng. Unlike those pampered nobles raised in luxury, who turn kindness into resentment and greed. No matter how much you give them, their appetites can never be satisfied.”

Even in private moments, he never forgot matters of state—it was truly dull. Folding her arms, she said, “Father Chancellor, the New Year’s court session is in two days. Are you prepared?”

She was referring to the six imperial seals, which had technically been kept in the palace all along but hadn’t formally come into her possession, leaving her feeling as though they didn’t truly belong to her.

Her hint prompted him to raise his eyes. Without speaking, his face maintained the decorum of a righteous gentleman, but one finger lightly tapped his lips—a thickly suggestive gesture.

She understood. The spacious interior was lined with soft, warm felt, and tapestries hung on all sides, ensuring no prying eyes could intrude. Without drawing attention, she moved the armrest aside, leaned closer, and awkwardly lunged into his embrace. Tilting her head up, she planted several kisses on his lips, whispering, “On the first day of the New Year, many will likely pay their respects to you—I won’t go. But on the second day, I’ll await your arrival at Zhe Liu Slope.”

He looked down at her, scrutinizing her. “What mischief are you plotting now?”

She giggled, “Of course I’m thinking of you.” Seeing the faint blush on his face, she adored his bashfulness despite his age. Cupping his face, she peppered him with quick, playful kisses like a pecking chicken. “I know there are all sorts of gatherings outside the city during the first month of the year, and so many fun things to see. Will you take me? We can watch tightrope walkers and folk dancers, then pitch a small tent under a pear tree and spend the night camping in the countryside. How does that sound?”

The thought made his heart race like a drumroll. He shyly nodded, “I’ll make sure everything is arranged beforehand—don’t worry, Your Majesty.”

She frowned at his formality. “Call me A Ying.”

With her arms wrapped around his neck, her expression was both beautiful and fierce, exuding an air of untamed confidence. He opened his mouth, hesitating as he began, “A...” but before he could finish uttering “Ying,” she leaned in for another passionate kiss, her tongue teasing and exploring while he retreated step by step until finally surrendering. “Stop it—I can’t get out of the carriage looking like this!”

She glanced down at him, her cheeks flushing red. Reluctantly sitting back, she kindly advised, “You should have someone make you thicker pants next time—then you won’t have to worry.”

He sighed helplessly. “Perhaps they’d need to be made of iron.”

She covered her mouth, perhaps imagining too much, her excitement bubbling over. “Father Chancellor is truly amazing!”

Caught between laughter and tears, he wondered what she understood about being “amazing.” As he ground his teeth in frustration, he thought, When push comes to shove, she might not be laughing anymore.

In public, the young emperor maintained her regal demeanor despite her private exuberance. After alighting from the carriage, she walked with her head held high, eyes straight ahead. When he bowed and excused himself, she turned to return the gesture. “Let me wish you an early Happy New Year, Father Chancellor. And please convey my message to Princess Chaisang: as a member of the imperial clan, she should pay respects to the Empress Dowager and the Empress after the New Year. She mustn’t be overly arrogant.”

He lowered his posture further. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Fu Wei, her eyelashes lowered, strode confidently through the Zhuque Gate.

As the years turned and the cycle began anew, this New Year felt unlike any other—full of joy and hope. Officials who had worked hard throughout the year received their due rewards. With the transfer of power underway, those loyal to the chancellor were reassured with gifts of gold, silk, and stationery—a generous distribution ensuring everyone left content.

The chancellor’s influence ran deep. Among the Three Dukes and Nine Ministers, nearly all key positions were held by his allies. Though criticized behind closed doors, his roots within the court were tangled and intricate, making attempts to undermine him increasingly unsettling. In the end, Fu Wei decided to focus solely on the main figure—once he was under her control, others would eventually give up resistance.

On New Year’s Day, the sky was clear and vast. The emperor’s carriage slowly made its way toward Deyang Hall. Leaning against a cushion, she gazed outward, watching the soaring eaves of the palace contrast against the expansive heavens. At that moment, the beauty of the land struck her deeply. It had been a long time since she last examined her domain, realizing now that this majestic, ten-li-long imperial city belonged to her—and so did the highest honor, which she alone enjoyed. For so long, she had lacked a sense of belonging because ultimate power rested in someone else’s hands. Now, things were different. Finally able to take charge of her own destiny, she felt like a dignified person, standing tall beneath the open sky.

Entering Deyang Hall and ascending the imperial throne, the timing was perfect. As the sun rose above the horizon, the bronze beasts flanking the steps cast eerie shadows on the moon terrace, stretching longer before fading away. The Chief Eunuch’s voice rang out solemnly, announcing the commencement of the grand ceremonies. On this first day of the new year, rituals were more elaborate than usual.

All officials knelt before her feet, yet her heart remained calm and unrippled. Adjusting the misaligned tassels hanging beside her crown, she gently flicked them so the crimson ribbons draped elegantly across her chest. Her gaze fell upon the man standing humbly at the forefront among the ministers. Scrutinizing his expression, unease crept into her heart. Until the very last moment, trust was elusive. She forced a bitter smile, tightening her lips.

At the commanding cry of “Rise,” the officials stood and parted to either side, leaving a wide central path. The Keeper of the Imperial Seals appeared at the entrance, leading a procession of six attendants bearing lacquered boxes. Each box held one of the six imperial seals, carried reverently to the foot of the stairs.

The chancellor nodded, signaling the Keeper to retrieve the six jade seals, placing them carefully atop the lacquered boxes. Each seal bore a chilong knob, their pure white bodies reminiscent of spring snow—the objects she had yearned for over a decade.

The six imperial seals represented the supreme authority of the Great Yin dynasty, inspiring awe and reverence. All present bowed deeply once again. The young emperor’s gaze lingered on the chancellor as he moved forward, lifting his ceremonial skirt. Never before had he knelt to her, but now his proud body bent low, kneeling upright on the cold golden bricks.

Fu Wei’s nose suddenly stung with emotion. Seeing him humbled like this cut into her heart like a knife. She wanted to reach out and support him but knew she couldn’t—it was the distinction between ruler and subject. She was the Son of Heaven; he was her subordinate. His act of kneeling was only natural.

He looked up at her, offering an encouraging glance, reminding her not to lose composure. Bowing deeply, he declared in a resounding voice, “Your servant Yan Xiangru, entrusted by the late emperor to assist Your Majesty for over a decade, has strived daily, fearing I could never bear the burden. Now that Your Majesty has grown wise and capable in governance and military prowess, surpassing even our forebears, I can finally repay the late emperor’s trust with tears of gratitude. Your Majesty assuming personal rule is a blessing for the state and its people. My task is complete, and I hereby return the six seals, relinquishing political power.”

Together with the assembled ministers, he kowtowed deeply. The atmosphere in the hall was charged with mixed emotions. Ignoring the seals themselves, she steadied her turbulent heart and raised her voice: “Rise, all of you.” Descending from the throne, she extended her hand to help him up. “Father Chancellor, please rise. Over these ten years, your efforts have been invaluable, and I am forever grateful. Even as I assume personal rule, I will not forget your contributions. The late emperor decreed that you ‘shall neither kneel nor address yourself by name.’ Today, you have violated both commands, which is inappropriate.” Quickly releasing him, she returned to her seat, adjusting her sleeves as she declared, “The privileges granted to you by the late emperor remain unchanged. I am young and may err in my zeal, so please correct me if I falter.”

The chancellor bowed deeply. “Thank you for your grace, Your Majesty. I am unworthy of great responsibility, merely handling affairs of state daily, ready to sacrifice myself for my sovereign when duty calls.”

Such an impassioned declaration of relinquishing power could only come from the chancellor himself.

The young emperor, seated above, finally expelled the suffocating weight she had carried for a decade. Closing her eyes briefly, she lifted her sleeve, allowing the Keeper to present the seals for inspection. Each of the six seals served a distinct purpose—issuing edicts, mobilizing troops, bestowing titles on feudal lords, summoning ministers, managing vassal states, and conducting rites for heaven, earth, and spirits. These simple six seals, whose touch had consumed so much of her effort, began to instill in her a growing confidence as ruler.

She examined them one by one, her features gradually becoming cold and solemn—an expression he had never seen before, one of lofty command. It reminded him of the late emperor, seated in his tent, issuing orders with authority.

His heart grew wistful. The transfer of power might trigger unforeseen reactions. Whether her affection was genuine or feigned would now be tested. He took solace in still holding command over the capital’s military forces. Any troop movements required matching his tiger tally, maintaining some leverage. And then there was the secret she feared he possessed—perhaps the greatest obstacle to her freedom. If she sought to remove all restraints, eliminating him would be the most effective solution.

Furrowing his brows—

Would she? Would she?