PM - 64

After assuming personal rule, there was always a declaration to be made. Her eloquence was impressive, and even the most hackneyed phrases sounded grandiose when spoken by her. The chancellor listened quietly from below as she began implementing the plans previously drafted with the Secretariat. Wei Shixing, still escorting Prince Jing back to the capital, had already been appointed as the Prefect of the Capital. The Prefect participated in court discussions and oversaw the imperial city, holding a position slightly above the Right Fufeng and Left Fengyi.

“In the past, all cases, big or small, were sent to the Court of Judicial Review. The sheer volume overwhelmed them, leading to delays and even forgotten cases. I’ve observed this issue for years, and the only solution is to decentralize. The former Right Neishi will now become the Prefect of the Capital, with jurisdiction over the eastern half of the original Right Neishi region, functioning like a governor. Additionally, they will establish their own judiciary. All cases involving members of the imperial clan and officials within the capital will be handled by them.” The young emperor tapped the surface of her armrest, frowning as she enunciated each word. “During the late emperor’s reign, offices in the capital were restructured, but in my view, the divisions remain insufficient. If one official bears all the responsibility, others grow complacent, hindering effective governance. My actions aim to ease the burdens of our senior ministers while considering your careers. High positions and generous stipends belong to those capable—it’s only natural. As I begin my personal rule, talent is urgently needed. I hope the entire court will unite to create a flourishing era under the new reign title, Xi He.”

The chancellor listened silently. Her approach mirrored the essence of the Decree of Extended Grace: divide and control. The young emperor was ambitious, and her resolve was immeasurable. Every promise she made, she intended to fulfill. By allowing the Prefect to establish a judiciary, it signaled that Wei Shixing would become the first ruthless official in the history of Great Yin. Wei Shixing, known for his stoic demeanor and strict enforcement of laws, dared to speak truth to power. Her judgment of character was astute. Such an official would serve as a sword hanging over the heads of all bureaucrats, empowering her reign and solidifying her authority.

The chancellor took pride in watching her navigate the pinnacle of power with ease, even though she might turn against him at any moment. Yet human nature was complex. Having relinquished power, he couldn’t help but question whether his decision was correct. He wasn’t afraid of hidden enemies; rather, he feared her unpredictability. Power could inflate egos, and if their relationship soured, it would betray the efforts of today.

Fortunately, she hadn’t mentioned appointing eight colonels, indicating that she still considered his position—at least for now. Adding eight officers with differing agendas under the Capital’s Grand Commander would complicate future operations significantly.

Today’s assembly was primarily for New Year’s greetings, so detailed policy discussions could wait until after the seven-day holiday. Looking around, all officials wore bright red ceremonial robes, and the court was immersed in festive cheer. The young emperor’s mood was buoyant as she smiled and said, “For the next seven days, the Secretariat will not handle matters unless urgent. One person will take turns on duty daily to manage routine affairs, but everything else will be postponed. Take advantage of these auspicious days to relax after a year of hard work.”

The ministers expressed their gratitude and slowly exited the hall. Fu Wei remained seated on the throne. The chancellor glanced up, meeting her gaze. Smiling openly was impossible, but her eyes conveyed countless emotions—only he could decipher them.

Having accomplished a major task, those close to her were elated. Bu Hai, ever the excitable youth, danced with joy: “From now on, no one can restrain Your Majesty! You are the Son of Heaven, the greatest under heaven!”

Jianye plucked a plum blossom from his hat. “Look at him, misbehaving whenever we turn our backs. When will he stop wearing flowers? As someone serving directly before the emperor, you’ll accompany His Majesty to meet foreign envoys. That face of yours will embarrass us all.”

On the first day of the new year, taboos were lifted, and they bickered playfully over whose eyes were smaller. Fu Wei shook her head, leaving them behind as she entered the Empress Dowager’s Yong’an Palace.

To her surprise, the fake princess was present. The chancellor had later sent people to Jiaodong to investigate, and everything matched perfectly. The more flawless the story, the more suspicious it became, suggesting considerable effort from whoever orchestrated it. The resurrection of this princess was too conveniently justified.

Inside the vermilion brocade canopy, those present bowed deeply as the young emperor arrived. “Your servant offers blessings for the New Year, praying for Your Majesty’s prosperity and eternal stability.”

Known for her gentle temperament, she graciously returned the gesture. “Happy New Year. The palace ladies and eunuchs have worked hard throughout the year. Alongside the Empress Dowager’s gifts, I’ve also prepared rewards.” Behind her, eunuchs carried lacquered trays laden with gold coins—a tangible reward. Like handing out New Year’s money, every female official and palace maid received a share.

This was what made the young emperor endearing. Today, formalities were relaxed, and everyone laughed and thanked her warmly. She waved her sleeves, dismissing their bows, then entered the canopy to wish the Empress Dowager a Happy New Year. Turning to Yuan Han, she asked, “Did the princess come alone?”

Yuan Han knelt on a brocade cushion, hands neatly placed on her knees. Bowing her head, she replied, “In response to Your Majesty, this humble servant came alone. Upon reaching the North Gate, I expected to request an audience with the Empress Dowager to enter the palace. However, I found myself already registered under Yong’an Palace. This kindness leaves me deeply grateful.”

It was customary for those residing in the Empress Dowager’s and Empress’s quarters to have special registry, allowing them unrestricted access without needing approval at each level. The Empress Dowager, ever considerate, had likely forgiven the princess’s past disrespect. Contrary to expectations, she hadn’t been turned away.

Fu Wei chuckled softly. “There’s no need to refer to yourself as a criminal. I’ve said before—the rebellion of Prince Changsha does not implicate the princess.”

Yet Yuan Han continued apologizing profusely for her father’s crimes, leaving Fu Wei puzzled. Debts were settled upon death—what old accounts remained unsettled?

The Empress Dowager sat serenely on a lacquered platform, her tone warm and kind. “Earlier, the princess explained her concerns about being denied an audience last time. Sympathizing with her years of wandering, I chose not to pursue the matter. Today is the New Year—a time for joyous gatherings. Let’s avoid unpleasant topics. During today’s assembly, did the emperor indeed assume personal rule?”

She affirmed, “The six imperial seals have been delivered to the outer chamber. Please rest assured, Mother.”

The Empress Dowager sighed deeply, pressing her hand to her chest. “Amitabha Buddha! Even in death, I can face the late emperor without shame.”

The memory of their early days—widowed and orphaned, oppressed by three regents—was vivid and painful. Recalling it now still brought a mix of shock and fear. Thankfully, the storm had passed. Fu Wei consoled the Empress Dowager, “I’ve grown up now and can make my own decisions. Please don’t worry, Mother.”

The Empress Dowager nodded approvingly, repeatedly praising her. Further discussion about the chancellor was curtailed due to Yuan Han’s presence.

“The other day, I mentioned to Your Majesty the appointment of a grandchild-awaiting official,” the Empress Dowager said. “Do you remember?”

Before, with the six seals in the chancellor’s possession, appointments required his approval, making things difficult. Now, with the seals restored, she revisited the topic.

Fu Wei hesitated, feeling uneasy. Why the rush? Delegating palace guard duties to an unfamiliar person was unthinkable.

She responded vaguely, “I remember, Mother. You suggested the position of Lieutenant General of the Imperial Guard. Now that I’ve assumed personal rule, many officials require reappointment. But haste is unwise—if changes occur overnight, it may alarm the court. Please allow me to proceed cautiously. Besides, the entire court is currently on holiday. Even if I wanted to issue an edict, there’s no one available to deliver it.”

Disappointment clouded the Empress Dowager’s face, but she conceded, “Very well, let’s wait a little longer. However, there’s another matter to discuss. Earlier, the princess mentioned her marriage to the chancellor. Your Majesty once intended to arrange their union, but the chancellor delayed out of consideration for the princess. Now, with the wedding approaching…” She smiled, gesturing to Yuan Han. “Explain it yourself.”

Hearing this, Fu Wei’s earlier good mood evaporated. This counterfeit princess harbored considerable ambition—daring to think she could marry the chancellor. If not for needing her as bait, Fu Wei would have eliminated her long ago.

Turning to Yuan Han, she feigned delight. “Speak freely, there’s nothing to hide.”

Yuan Han, bashful, spoke softly: “Forgive my boldness, but this journey to the capital was to reunite with Ruchun. Perhaps Your Majesty has heard of our story. When I first came to the capital with my father, I fell in love with him at first sight. At the time, I was underage, and he promised to wait for me to mature. Unfortunately, the Changsha rebellion severed our connection. When we met again, I feared he had moved on. But the other day…” Blushing furiously, she trailed off, unable to continue.

This situation boded ill. Fu Wei, no novice to matters of intimacy, understood the implications. Having studied explicit illustrations and practiced extensively, she recognized Yuan Han’s coy demeanor as indicative of something deeper.

Without waiting for the Empress Dowager to interject, Fu Wei raised her hand. “I understand. Are you implying that the two of you… consummated your union the other day?”

Yuan Han flushed with embarrassment, and even the Empress Dowager appeared awkward, coughing lightly. “Since matters have reached this point, Your Majesty must decide. Should the princess conceive, it would bring shame to the imperial clan.”

Fu Wei nodded repeatedly. “Rest assured, I’ll keep it in mind.” Suppressing discomfort, she tilted her neck and remarked wryly, “Even a man of deep cultivation can falter...” Unable to finish, she smiled faintly and withdrew from Yong’an Palace.

Outwardly composed in front of the fake princess, privately, doubts gnawed at her. Though older, the counterfeit was undeniably beautiful. What if he succumbed to her advances? What if he decided not to waste such an opportunity? The thought of another person intruding into their relationship was unbearable. Her imperial status offered no solace against innate jealousy. No amount of self-reassurance could quell her unease.

The first day of Spring Festival passed in restless anxiety, but tomorrow brimmed with hope.

The following day, dressed casually, she accompanied Shangguan Zhao out of the palace. As usual, they traveled with a modest retinue. A light carriage entered the Marquis of Guannei’s residence, where the guards were entertained elsewhere. Shangguan led her to a rear chamber, opening the door. “I’ve prepared these items according to my understanding. I hope they meet Your Majesty’s satisfaction. Please take a look.”

Fu Wei hurried over, seeing a beautifully crafted lacquer box on the table. Opening it revealed an array of dazzling items—all hers. Her heart leapt with joy as she picked up a delicate carved ivory tube, examining it closely. Lifting the lid, she found a crimson paste inside. Lowering her head to sniff, she marveled at its fragrance—but unsure of its purpose, she asked, “What is this?”

Shangguan chuckled. “It’s lip rouge, used for painting the lips.”

Women had many containers for their cosmetics—silver boxes, jade tubes, and more. When the dowry for the empress was presented at Zhangde Hall for her inspection, she couldn’t distinguish between rouge and lip balm. Now, reflecting on it, she realized the difference was likely between wet and dry applications.

Azhao was a dependable friend. He picked out a rouge stick from the makeup box and pointed to its rounded ivory tip. “Dip this and apply—it’s ready with just a touch.”

She nodded repeatedly. “After I leave, how will we avoid drawing attention?”

He replied, “I’ve arranged for people to drink in the main hall with the doors closed. No one will know what’s happening inside. Once you’ve changed, board the carriage—everything is prepared.”

“Good,” she said, her gaze lingering over the array of cosmetics. It was time for him to leave. He stepped out and closed the door behind him.

On the second day of the first lunar month, many people were out enjoying the festivities. In times of peace and prosperity, such leisurely attitudes prevailed. Great Yin was a powerful empire, with neighboring states often paying tribute or engaging in trade. Thus, Hu merchants from the Western Regions displayed their skills, singing, dancing, and selling exotic goods. The emperor, arriving here, felt like an unsophisticated country bumpkin, unfamiliar with everything.

A small carriage drawn by two horses crossed several hills before reaching Zhe Liu Slope. The name came from the thick smoke-like willows that formed a natural barrier in spring, their branches so dense they nearly obscured all traces of people.

Unfortunately, spring had just begun, and there was no lush green cover yet. Fu Wei sat in the carriage, peeking out through the window, until she finally spotted a tall figure standing on the slope. Clad in deep blue robes, his light hem fluttering in the wind, he exuded an otherworldly grace. She recognized him instantly.

The sight of her beloved stirred indescribable emotions within the young woman. Fu Wei clenched her hands tightly, wondering why she felt so nervous today, despite their usual political discussions. She struggled to steady her breathing, stealing glances outside as the carriage drew closer. He turned around, seemingly certain that she was inside, a faint smile playing on his lips.

What an extraordinary chancellor! His figure was as light as a feather, his appearance as radiant as glass. If anyone dared call him old, she would have their entire family executed. Her chancellor looked youthful and vibrant, holding his own even when compared to Azhao.

Fu Wei felt her heart racing. He was used to seeing her in formal black robes; would he be disappointed by her appearance today? She quickly checked herself in a small mirror—nothing seemed amiss. But what if he didn’t like her dressed this way?

Overwhelmed by anxiety, she considered instructing Azhao to turn back to the Marquis’s residence. Before she could speak, a horse whinnied, and the carriage stopped.

Her palms were slick with cold sweat. Outside, the chancellor exchanged pleasantries with Azhao while she hesitated nervously inside, too shy to step out.

The chancellor’s opinion of Shangguan Zhao had improved after careful observation—he was indeed a gentleman. Bowing respectfully, he said, “Thank you, Lord Hou, for escorting Her Majesty.” Regardless of rank, Azhao held the title of marquis. Previously dismissive, the chancellor now addressed him with great respect.

Shangguan Zhao remained humble, returning the bow. “My task is complete once I deliver Her Majesty to you. I must return to my residence to prevent any unexpected visitors.”

“Very well,” the chancellor replied. Still no movement came from the carriage. After exchanging a few more words and waiting briefly, the situation remained unchanged. The chancellor called softly through the carriage door, “A Ying, come out.”

No response came, but the sound of clinking jade pendants echoed within. Shangguan Zhao immediately understood, smiling. “Perhaps Her Majesty feels a bit shy...”

The chancellor puzzled over this. A person usually so bold—what reason did she have to feel shy?

He pondered for a moment. “Did she sleep awkwardly last night and strain her neck? Come out—I won’t laugh at you.”

Fu Wei bristled at his assumption. Couldn’t he think positively for once? Steeling herself, she decided that whether she faced consequences or not, she might as well confront them head-on. With that, she kicked open the carriage door and sat regally, like a deity in a shrine, waiting for him to fully take her in before gracefully stepping down.

The chancellor was utterly speechless. Before him stood a maiden clad in layered silk robes. Though her full-length veil obscured her form, through the gossamer-thin black gauze, one could vaguely discern the elegant swirls of cloud embroidery and the soft, enchanting silhouette of a woman.

Shangguan Zhao discreetly excused himself. Having delivered her safely, his task was complete. Bowing deeply, he turned the carriage around and departed. Glancing back after some distance, he saw the two figures standing atop the slope. From afar, they appeared strikingly well-matched—a perfect union ordained by heaven.

The chancellor, clearly still adjusting, strained to see through the fine mesh of the veil, eager to glimpse the face of the beauty within.

Was it truly her? Happiness struck so suddenly that it felt almost unbelievable. He had never imagined she would do this. Even after securing imperial authority, he assumed that if their love continued, she wouldn’t make any changes. Yet here she was, presenting herself to him in this manner. Compared to empty verbal promises, this gesture struck directly at his heart.

His hand trembled slightly as he gently lifted the translucent gauze beneath the veil, his reverent demeanor akin to a groom unveiling his bride during a wedding ceremony.

Her face gradually emerged—familiar yet strangely new. Lightly powdered, her eyebrows were delicately arched, her lips painted a vivid red. As the wind lifted her long hair tied at the back, the tinkling of tiny silver bells on her wrist accompanied the motion, scattering his soul into fragments.

“A Ying...” he murmured.

She blushed, smoothing her skirt. “Do I look alright?”

He nodded dazedly. “Beautiful.” No, not just beautiful—she surpassed anything he had ever imagined. He wanted to burst into laughter. He had once boasted that he would only marry a woman of unparalleled beauty, and here she was, the epitome of loveliness. What reason did he have not to thank the heavens for their generosity?

It was her first time wearing layered robes. The intricate wrapping felt like shackles, making it difficult to walk. Relieved upon learning he liked it, she furrowed her brows in complaint. “I almost tripped getting out of the carriage earlier. Luckily, I jumped down instead. These clothes may look pretty, but they’re not very practical.” She clicked her tongue, feigning disdain.

His gaze softened like water as he reached out, taking her hand in his. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here, and I’ll hold you tightly.”

At his words, she smiled radiantly, like spring blossoms in full bloom. Amidst the festive crowds, she stood tall and graceful, gazing at him with tender affection. Clouds drifted far into the horizon, and the sky stretched endlessly, clear as the sea. His heart ached with longing—if only time could freeze in this moment, how wonderful it would be!