Although there was no curfew today, the Emperor still adhered to his usual routine and returned to the palace at the hour of Shen (3-5PM). Meanwhile, the gathering at Qianyuan Hall did not immediately adjourn – those intoxicating, joyful moments would stretch on for quite a while before finally drawing to a close.
Wen Yanran glanced at Chi Yi, who softly reported, “The carriage outside is ready.”
Not every household in the hall owned a carriage, and staying too late would inevitably cause inconvenience on the way back, especially in winter.
Before the banquet began today, only a thin layer of snow covered the palace paths. By the time Wen Yanran stepped out, the snow had already accumulated to a depth of over three inches.
Chi Yi noticed the Emperor’s gaze briefly shift away from the snow and quietly made a mental note – the Emperor, diligent and benevolent, must surely be thinking of snow disasters and the people’s hardships upon seeing such a scene. Minister Lu had long since drawn up plans for this, so there was no need for Her Majesty to worry unduly. As for the palace, she could have the imperial physicians prepare more ginger broth for the attendants. There must be no cases of cold or hunger that might lead to talk of the Emperor neglecting her virtue…
As an astute and perceptive palace official, Chi Yi had a tendency to read deeply into things – and she possessed both the ability to act on her interpretations and the firm trust of her superiors. Without quite realizing it, she had, in her own way, taken another quiet but firm step in nudging Wen Yanran further along the path of a sage ruler.
By the time Wen Yanran returned to Western Yong Palace, the Director of the Imperial Household was already waiting. While officials of other ministries might have been able to rest during this season, the Imperial Household could not – for them, the New Year’s festivities were nearly the busiest time of the year.
Hou Suo had to catalog the tributes from across the realm and prepare in advance the imperial rewards that would soon be bestowed. Although Jianping, as the capital, was prosperous and its residents well-off, not every official’s household possessed surplus wealth. Many lived solely on their salaries, especially in winter, when the bitter cold and heavy snow could easily claim those who let their guard down. To manifest the Emperor’s benevolence, the palace would, throughout the cold season, bestow in succession padded garments, footwear, charcoal, and balms and ointments for chapped lips and frostbite.
Wen Yanran remarked casually, “It’s cold out – no need for you to wait in the corridor.” As soon as she entered, she promptly shed her heavy ceremonial robe and beaded crown. Such regalia might well accentuate the majesty of the sovereign, but Wen Yanran was keenly aware that sovereign majesty, after all, required sovereign stamina to uphold…
The Director stood behind the folding screen and dutifully began to report on the tributes from various regions.
Hou Suo was convinced that the Emperor before him was a sage ruler the likes of which appeared but once in generations, and so he organized his report accordingly, tailoring it to what he believed a wise sovereign would care about. Items like pearls, agate, and fine silks – though delivered in great quantity from the south – were mentioned only briefly, lest they diminish the Emperor’s interest. The focus, instead, was placed on the more practical flora sent from various localities. The emperor, after all, took little pleasure in luxury, yet was likely curious about regional customs and the livelihood of the people. As the saying goes, “What the superior favors, his inferiors will pursue with fervor.” Since Her Majesty had previously shown an interest in cotton, local governments had naturally devoted considerable attention to it. Before long, several additional varieties had been identified – ones said to mature in roughly half the time it took for the cotton grown in Jianping. Though somewhat coarser in texture, they were still far superior to hemp cloth and thus well suited for widespread cultivation.
Wen Yanran paused briefly as she listened to Hou Suo’s report, then offered a faint smile. “You have been most thoughtful.”
Her words served once again as a quiet reminder of how the canopy top removal method had actually been disseminated in the first place…
In addition to flora, the southern regions had also sent preserved fruits made from lychees, bayberries, and the like, along with a considerable quantity of beeswax.
Beeswax had traditionally been tributed mainly from the east, but this year, the chief officials of Yong Province and Yu Province, mindful of the ongoing military campaigns and concerned that the imperial household might face shortages, had increased their tribute accordingly.
Their efforts to curry favor with the Emperor were not without reason. The current sovereign neither commissioned the construction of palaces nor indulged in frequent banquets, music, or dancing. Her was but a life of daily routine – and no matter how lavish that might be, the expense could only ever amount to so much.
Upon hearing the Director’s report on the types and quantities of tributes, Wen Yanran inquired, “What is the current stock of beeswax here in Jianping?”
The Director dared not conceal the truth and gave a figure that even surprised the Emperor.
The beeswax stored in the treasury was not counted by the stick, but by weight – the unit of measure being 60-65kg. With the reserves currently held by the Imperial Household, even if regional tributes ceased entirely, the supply would last another twenty or thirty years.
Wen Yanran had never given much thought to the issue of lighting in ancient times -not until after she had transmigrated. Only then did she realize that, in this era, candles were, in fact, a luxury item.
As an office worker with a relatively narrow scope of knowledge, she had once actually believed the tale of a tyrannical sovereign illuminating his halls with nothing but luminous pearls…
Beeswax can be stored for a long time, but even so, keeping it sitting in the treasury serves little purpose. Wen Yanran began to delegate. “Stamp some of those beeswax candles with characters like ‘peace’ or ‘well-being,’ and bestow them upon the ministers as New Year’s gifts. As for the remainder, sell them to the wealthy households of Jianzhou.”
Hou Suo hurriedly noted this down, finding the Emperor’s arrangement most thoughtful. Had the candles been stamped with words bearing connotations of loyalty or moral integrity, they might have been fit to grant to officials but unsuitable for sale to wealthy commoners. The character “peace,” however, was something anyone could seek – especially during the New Year season. Even such seasoned and principled figures as Censor-in-Chief Song or Grand Tutor Yuan would have no grounds for reproach.
The Director, knowing that the Emperor had eaten far less at the banquet than she normally would, offered with a conciliatory smile. “The southern region of Wu Province has also sent a tribute – a plant called zhe. It can be pressed into a syrup, sweet as honey, and drinking it is said to replenish qi and relieve heat. The imperial physicians have already examined it. Would Your Majesty care for a bowl?”
Hou Suo was exceedingly attentive. Ever since the last incident, when the Emperor had suddenly fallen ill and given him such a fright, he had found himself unable to stop pondering how best to help Her Majesty strengthen her constitution. Only now did he muster the boldness to make this gentle suggestion.
Wen Yanran understood that in this era, anything sweet was precious. And since her goal was to become a tyrannical ruler, indulging in a bit of extravagance in the small details of daily life could well serve as groundwork for the future. She nodded and had the zhe syrup brought forth.
The zhe syrup presented in the hall had already been warmed. The taster eunuch first took a small spoonful with a silver ladle to test for poison, and only after confirming it was safe did he present it to the Emperor.
Wen Yanran took a sip and could not help but smile faintly – so this so-called zhe syrup was none other than sugarcane juice.
Yet perhaps owing to the cultivation methods of the era, the sweetness of the sugarcane juice left something to be desired. Wen Yanran remarked to the Director of, “Next time, it may be boiled down a little thicker.”
Observing the faint smile on the Emperor’s face, the Director naturally made haste to note the instruction with reverent awe, then continued his report: “Dan and Tai Provinces have sent a considerable quantity of Western brocade to the capital. The great households of the Central Plains have always held such textiles in high regard. Would Your Majesty wish to have a look?”
Extravagant as Western brocade was, in this context it signified the submission of Tai Province – a meaning of an entirely different order. Even a sovereign who took no pleasure in luxury would surely deign to examine it.
If Wen Yanran had any inkling of Hou Suo’s current thoughts, she would realize that her Director had indeed perused no small number of classical texts, and possessed a particular talent for exercising his imagination at the most inopportune moments…
Wen Yanran reclined on the lounge chair, eyes half-closed, and nodded with an air of casual indifference.
The Great Zhou had originally possessed no such thing as a lounge chair; it had been crafted by the Imperial Household at the Emperor’s own request.
Within the hall, benzoin incense had already been lit. The eunuchs, having attended the emperor for many years, knew well Her Majesty’s aversion to heavy fragrances. They therefore placed the censer at a distance in the outer chamber, allowing only the faintest wisp of scent to drift in – just enough to weave an elusive, ethereal atmosphere.
A palace attendant with nimble fingers loosened the Emperor’s hair. Since she had no need to venture out, Wen Yanran could not be bothered with a formal crown; she simply had her hair gathered into a plain, simple bundle.
The Western brocade was swiftly presented. Wen Yanran cast a glance over it and found the patterns resplendent – the fine, lustrous fabric caught the candlelight within the hall and truly shimmered with the brilliance of morning clouds. Yet as someone who had transmigrated from another time, she was far from astonished; if anything, the patterns struck her as rather excessively ornate.
In addition to the bolts of brocade, the Western Tribes had also presented the Emperor with finished garments. In an effort to align with Central Plains aesthetics, they had specially crafted several black-ground cloaks embroidered with coiling dragons – the dragons themselves meticulously stitched in gold thread. They did indeed carry a certain imperial majesty. The hems, however, were tailored a trifle too long, offering Wen Yanran a vivid indication of the Western folk’s rather optimistic expectations regarding her stature.
“Set them aside for now.”
The Director inclined his body and continued, “The Li clan and other prominent families have also presented rare local medicinal formulas, said to possess near-miraculous effects in treating wounds and countering toxins.”
Precious as these formulas were, until the imperial physicians had verified their efficacy, no one would dare apply them to the Emperor. Hou Suo mentioned them now only to convey the submissive reverence of the foreign tribes toward the Sovereign. Yet the mention of medicinal formulas brought another matter to his mind – some time ago, the Emperor had suffered a minor illness. During that time, while resting in bed, Her Majesty had dictated two formulas aloud. Many present had thought little of it then. Lately, however, Hou Suo had heard that, after repeated trials by the imperial physicians, both formulas had proven remarkably effective.
While this did not necessarily attest to any profound depth of medical knowledge on the Emperor’s part, it at least suggested that Her Majesty possessed some understanding of the healing arts.
Governance, talent selection, geography, military affairs, mathematics… and now medicine as well. The Director had long known that the Emperor bore the mandate of Heaven and was gifted with extraordinary intelligence, yet he had not anticipated that Her Majesty could prove so versatile – a master of nearly every field.
The tribute from the western regions was vast and varied. Beyond brocade and medicinal herbs, there were also timber, bamboo implements, salt wells, fine iron, and tallow tree seeds – all local specialties of no small renown. A great quantity had now been transported to the capital. Most of these were unremarkable in themselves, but the salt wells alone represented enormous profit.
No wonder that, in years past, people like Wang You, relying on the resources of a single prefecture like Tai Province, had dared to stand in defiance of Jianping. The wealth of local products there was truly overwhelming.
As it was the New Year period, Zhong Zhiwei – the general who had reorganized the Left Camp for the Emperor – had hitched a ride with the tribute convoy and specially sent several small ponies to the capital, suggesting that Her Majesty might use them to practice archery and horsemanship.
…The Director found General Zhong refreshingly unsubtle for a military officer. Any other emperor might well have taken it as a deliberate slight.
Wen Yanran reclined on the lounge chair, listening to the Director’s report. When he had finished, she asked the attendants nearby, “Has Minister Yan arrived?”
Chi Yi responded with her hands at her sides, “Commander Yan is already waiting outside the hall.”
A faint smile touched Wen Yanran’s lips. “Bid him enter.”
The Director understood well: the Emperor had delayed his rest not to hear a detailed enumeration of regional tributes, but to await Yan Xiaolou.
As soon as the Commander of the Outer Guard of Jianping entered the hall, he immediately performed a solemn, full ceremonial bow. “I pay homage to Your Majesty.”
The Director and the others present had long known that Yan Xiaolou was unwaveringly loyal, revering the Emperor as though she were a deity. Yet today, they sensed that the gratitude and veneration in his voice ran even deeper than usual – by a noticeable measure.
Wen Yanran sat up and smiled. “Have you discovered who it is?”
Yan Xiaolou replied, “It is none other than that petty thief surnamed Qi.”
He was referring to a junior officer under his own command.
Wen Yanran had long suspected that the rumors concerning the fake Marques of Quanling had spread across the capital with such alarming speed – evidence that the enemy possessed a deeply entrenched network here in Jianping. She had subsequently issued an order imposing a curfew within the city during the hostilities, forbidding commoners from leaving their residential wards or moving freely about. Yet despite these measures, many continued to impersonate imperial attendants or palace guards in their operations; Wen Yanran herself had encountered such an impostor once when she ventured out.
Then came the curse rites conducted against her by the Eastern lands. After Wen Yanran fell ill, all manner of gossip and hearsay swept through the city like a tempest. And thereafter came the matter of shipping grains. Wen Yanran’s commands had been conveyed through her close attendants, transmitted directly to the Imperial Household and the Imperial Guard – yet no sooner had the grain convoy departed the city than it was set upon by brigands.
Wen Yanran did not know who was pulling the strings, but she was certain of one thing: whoever could so precisely grasp the ebb and flow of information within the capital must surely hold some official position.
During the curfew, even high ministers were subject to inspection when venturing out. Yet there was a certain class of people who could walk the streets unhindered, unchallenged, without arousing the slightest suspicion.
One such group was the inner palace eunuchs. The other was the Imperial Guard.
Both answered to the Emperor’s mandate, patrolling the city on her authority. They were the first to detect shifts in the capital’s undercurrents and the quickest to act upon them; they also moved with ease among the various wards, maintaining contact with those within. It was for this very reason that Wen Yanran had instructed Zhang Luo to keep watch. But between the two, her suspicion leaned toward the Imperial Guard.
One reason, of course, was that Chi Yi and Zhang Luo were both formidable figures -names that had once graced the comment sections. To attempt any covert maneuver under their watch would be a feat of nightmare difficulty. The second reason was Yan Xiaolou himself – the very man who, that day, had struck off Tian Dongyang’s head.
With Tian Dongyang dead, his followers – beyond their hatred for the Emperor -undoubtedly held Yan Xiaolou in the deepest contempt.
These rebels nursed grand ambitions, but they were also fiercely driven by the desire to avenge Xuanyangzi. To plant moles close to Yan Xiaolou was, therefore, a perfectly logical move.
These sleepers need not even attempt to assassinate Yan Xiaolou. It would be enough to steadily leak information, to sow doubt in the Emperor’s mind regarding Yan Xiaolou’s trustworthiness – and in doing so, cast the Commander of the Outer Guard into an abyss from which there was no return.
Having been awakened by the Emperor’s pointed words, Yan Xiaolou found himself drenched in cold sweat.
Had the Sovereign not been so perspicacious, he would surely have fallen into irredeemable ruin.
Chi Yi could not help herself. “Your Majesty is truly resourceful and wise.”
Wen Yanran smiled faintly and motioned for Yan Xiaolou to rise. Gazing at the Commander of the Outer Guard, she said gently, “I am not resourceful or wise. I simply know you.”
At the Emperor’s subtle gesture, an attendant who understood the sovereign’s mind pushed open the window of the bedchamber. A gust of fresh air swept in, soothing the Outer Guard Commander’s agitation. Snowlight gleamed in the young emperor’s eyes – eyes that should have struck Yan Xiaolou as cold and piercing, yet now revealed to him a clarity and magnanimity beyond words.
The implication of the Emperor’s words was unmistakable: it was precisely because she had never for a moment believed Yan Xiaolou himself to be at fault that she had been able to quickly pinpoint the problem among those around him.
Even Chi Yi bowed her head slightly, concealing the emotion that had risen to her face -for in those words, the emperor had also quietly affirmed her own loyalty and that of Zhang Luo.
Wen Yanran reached out and helped Yan Xiaolou to his feet. Smiling, she said, “Since I ascended the throne, I have often acted willfully, repeatedly entangling you in my affairs. But old habits die hard, and I fear I shall continue to impose upon you in days to come.”
