Since Wen Yanran had traveled incognito, it was only natural for her to spend a couple of days inspecting the river embankments. As she had told the State Preceptor, she went to personally pick out some stones – truth be told, ever since her transmigration, she had consistently exercised and taken care of her health, feeling that her strength had improved significantly compared to when she first arrived. Yet watching Xiao Xichi effortlessly lift with one hand the very stone slabs she could barely budge left her in prolonged silence.
Chi Yi coughed dryly twice and said, “Everyone has their own strengths…”
Wen Yanran smiled, not dwelling on the matter, and merely said, “Come with me in a while to survey the surrounding farmland.”
The officials of the Water Management Bureau in the south were not only responsible for constructing the canal but had also taken the opportunity presented by resettling the people to repair local irrigation facilities. Wen Yanran went to see for herself. Although many places had dug irrigation ditches, the effort to bring new land under cultivation was still insufficient. Most of the fields were planted with early-season rice introduced from Luonan. Fortunately, while this variety wasn’t particularly tasty, it could at least fill stomachs.
As emperor, Wen Yanran could not remain away for long. Some ministers in Yu Province had already sensed that the Sovereign was no longer in the capital. To avoid any unrest, she had to return promptly.
Although the emperor was traveling incognito, she had been allocating elite imperial guards as escorts along the way, so the commotion of her return could not be concealed from anyone. The moment Wen Yanran entered the city, Song Wenshu came to pay his respects to the sovereign, fulfilling his duties as the Censor-in-Chief.
Song Wenshu said, “Your Majesty bears the weight of the realm. Now that the empire is at peace, there is truly no need for you to personally venture into dangerous places.”
Every word he spoke came from the bottom of his heart. In Song Wenshu’s view, for the long-term stability of the Great Zhou, it would be best if Wen Yanran reigned as emperor for sixty or seventy years. As ministers, even if they could not do much else, the least they could do was to remonstrate with the sovereign and advise her not to take unnecessary risks.
Since Song Wenshu had come to remonstrate privately, Chi Yi told him the truth, “When Her Majesty left the capital, half a squadron of imperial guard was deployed as escort, and along the way, she rendezvoused with General Xiao.” At this point, she looked up toward the west, her gaze meaningfully suggestive. “Since Her Majesty did not travel alone, you need not worry overmuch.”
Hearing this, Song Wenshu showed a hint of hesitation on his face and said, “Even so, caution should still be the priority.”
Wen Yanran raised an eyebrow slightly and also looked toward the west.
To the west lay the Qingnan Palace.
Evening.
The young emperor stood before the window.
The hues of the sunset stained the white paper on the desk, lending it a natural rosy glow.
Wen Yanran said, “Find those stones I picked up along the canal. Have the Imperial Household polish and carve them into Go pieces. I want to keep them as a gift for someone.”
Chi Yi asked, “Your Majesty has always used the two princes as a pretext. Are you planning to bestow them upon the two princes?”
Wen Yanran glanced at Chi Yi a couple of times, then gave a faint smile. “Not to them this time.” She added, “Once they’re made, send them to the Qingnan Palace.”
Chi Yi paused for a moment, then carefully suggested, “In that case, would Your Majesty also like to send a message to the State Preceptor?”
Wen Yanran’s gaze fell on Chi Yi once more, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “You people…” She trailed off, then said, “What you say is reasonable.” After a moment’s thought, she spread out a sheet of paper, wrote a few lines, and smiled. “Then tell the State Preceptor that after arriving here a few days ago, I found myself reminiscing about the days in Jianping and was moved to reflect. I would like to ask him to help me come up with a title.”
Chi Yi would certainly not open and read the letter the Emperor had written to the State Preceptor. However, since the Sovereign had not hidden her writing from those nearby, a few of the attendants inevitably caught a glimpse.
On the paper was written:
“Winter departs early, dot by dot beyond the branches, before the white jade hall, seeking a jade-green hue, the shade of the full tree remains clear and cool, moving the lamp to light the night.”
Chi Yi’s gaze flickered, as if she understood something. Then she personally led the attendants to deliver the Emperor’s composition to the Qingnan Palace.
Along the way, Cai Qu whispered, “Is there perhaps some jade-green flower at the Taiqi Palace these days?”
Chi Yi glanced at her junior, and said with a stern expression, “Why are you asking about such things? However Her Majesty instructs, you and I simply carry out her orders.” Then, lowering her voice as well, she glanced at the first three characters of the verse and offered a hint. “Though there is none this season, there is indeed some in winter.”
Cai Qu suddenly understood.
Inside the Qingnan Palace, Wen Jingmei had been studying a Go manual. Upon receiving the Emperor’s note, he froze involuntarily and unconsciously let go, allowing the manual to fall onto the table.
Chi Yi performed a bow, relayed the Emperor’s words in full, and said with a composed demeanor, “This is a composition by Her Majesty, who specially requests that the State Preceptor help devise a title.”
Wen Jingmei pressed his lips together. After a moment, he said, “Please leave Her Majesty’s letter here. I shall send a reply shortly.”
In palace discourse, people were accustomed to speaking in subtle, implicit terms. Chi Yi, rarely hesitant today, wondered whether she should say a few more words to prevent the State Preceptor from misunderstanding. However, since Wen Jingmei remained silent afterward, Chi Yi found no opportunity to offer a hint and could only place her hopes on the other’s reading comprehension.
The State Preceptor, as he had promised, soon sent the proposed title back to the Emperor. But unlike Wen Yanran, who had never hidden her writing from those around her, Wen Jingmei carefully sealed the letter with wax. No matter how curious the palace attendants might be, they could hardly learn what was inside. As for the Emperor herself, she showed no sign of intending to satisfy anyone’s curiosity.
Zhang Luo said cheerfully, “It seems Her Majesty is in a splendid mood today.”
Wen Yanran glanced at him, the corners of her lips lifting slightly. “To have such perceptive and quick-witted people by my side – my heart is truly comforted.”
She now had some understanding of what earlier emperors must have felt. As a sovereign, it was indeed difficult to have any privacy. Any fluctuation in one’s emotions could hardly escape the notice of the palace attendants around her.
…Wen Yanran clearly did not yet know just how wildly divergent her ministers’ speculations about her had been in the past.
After the reply arrived from the Qingnan Palace, the artisans of the Imperial Household redoubled their efforts, accelerating the polishing of the Go pieces. They were ready to present them for the Emperor’s inspection before immediately sending them off to the State Preceptor – but Wen Yanran rejected the idea. She sent them back to continue their work, instructing them to carve some characters onto the Go boxes: Taking things slowly leads to completion.
Xiao Xichi had requested a month’s leave. After the Emperor concluded her inspection tour, she was in no hurry to return immediately to Chongchang. Instead, she remained in Taikang City to attend upon the Emperor. Today, she had come to the palace specifically to play a game of Go with her. She smiled and said, “Your Majesty is truly most patient.”
Wen Yanran smiled and said, “General Xiao, is it that you speak from personal reflection?” She shook her head slightly and said softly, “The situation now is vastly different from what I envisioned when I first ascended the throne…” She paused, looked at Xiao Xichi, and said, “Times change, circumstances shift. So in this current game, I too find myself uncertain about where to place my stones.”
Xiao Xichi placed a stone and said, “I have always believed that Your Majesty is a person of resolute will, one who conquers whatever she sets her mind to.”
At that moment, a palace attendant serving in the hall glanced at the board between the two and inwardly felt that General Xiao was being overly complimentary.
Wen Yanran placed another stone and smiled. “The supreme art of war is to foil the enemy’s plans; the next best is to disrupt their alliances; the next, to attack their army in the field; the worst is to besiege their cities. Since this matter can neither be resolved by disrupting alliances nor by military attack, I must simply advance slowly and carefully.”
She had been delayed outside for quite some days, leaving little time for leisure. The ministers who had been assisting with state affairs in recent days now seemed to be submitting a deluge of memorials almost vengefully. Wen Yanran picked a few out, opened them, and laughed. “These are memorials impeaching General Xiao.”
In truth, Xiao Xichi had followed proper procedures and requested leave before her departure. The censors knew full well that their impeachment would lead nowhere; their actions were merely a silent protest against Xiao Xichi’s complicity in allowing the Emperor to travel incognito.
Xiao Xichi said, “So long as I can share Your Majesty’s burdens, even impeachment is of no consequence to me.”
Hearing this, Wen Yanran patted another pile of memorials on the table and said, “These three kilograms are impeaching me.”
“…”
Xiao Xichi reflected that most of the officials in Taikang seemed to adhere to the principle of holding the right person accountable when drafting impeachments – and their reaction to the Emperor’s departure from the palace was indeed extraordinarily strong. The memorials submitted could even be measured by kilogram.
With the Emperor needing to attend to state affairs, Xiao Xichi naturally took her leave. As she left the palace, she noticed an attendant carrying a basket of lemon fruits – tributes from the southern region – walking toward the Emperor’s sleeping quarters. She remembered that the Emperor had always had a habit of using fruit to fragrance her rooms, so she thought nothing of it at the time
Having been managing state affairs for a long time, Wen Yanran had grown increasingly accustomed to the work. With Chi Yi and others assisting her, though the number of memorials was considerable, she managed to finish the day’s tasks completely within two hours by dint of diligent effort.
“Bring in those lemon fruits. I want to make something.”
Cai Qu reminded her, “When the envoy from Wu Province came, he said that although lemon fruits have a fragrant scent, their taste is exceptionally sour and astringent – not fit to eat.”
Wen Yanran smiled. “I don’t intend to eat them either.”
Lemon fruits were lemons, which among common fruits contain a relatively high amount of acidic substances.
Emperor Li had stored a large quantity of mineral ores in the Yao Palace, which also allowed Wen Yanran to learn the locations of the Great Zhou’s zinc deposits. She had people collect some of these minerals. If the minerals were zinc carbonate, they were to be mixed with coal and heated at high temperatures in a sealed container. If they were zinc sulfide, they were first heated at high temperatures to obtain zinc oxide, then charcoal was added to the zinc oxide to smelt out metallic zinc.
In this way, Wen Yanran obtained zinc plates. She then had the Imperial Household craft some copper plates as well. The zinc plates were engraved with a minus sign (−), and the copper plates with a plus sign (+). Then the two metals were inserted separately into the same lemon – this was a crude fruit battery.
Wen Yanran used iron wire to connect the copper plates and zinc plates of different lemons. With limited time, she completed the initial steps, leaving the remaining procedures to be taken over by the Imperial Household. Some were tasked with the hands-on work, while others were responsible for recording the detailed steps. Wen Yanran glanced casually at the notes and noticed the phrase “connect them in series.”
Although she knew it was a coincidence, seeing the term “series” still stirred something in her as a science and engineering student.
Wen Yanran said, “Also, have some bamboo filaments roasted into charcoal filaments and sent to me. I have a use for them.”
End of the You hour (approximately 7-9 PM).
Five days earlier, the Emperor had specifically sent Attendant Chi to deliver a letter to the State Preceptor. Just as the Daoist officials in this residence were beginning to speculate, several days passed without the Emperor visiting or dispatching anyone to the Qingnan Palace.
A Daoist official advised, “Her Majesty surely knows how busy the State Preceptor is, and that is why she has not come to disturb you. Your Eminence should rest early tonight – tomorrow you must rise to prepare for the sacrificial rites.”
Wen Jingmei was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Very well.” He added, “Later, put away the Go board that has been left outside.”
The weather was not cold, yet the night breeze still carried a certain penetrating coolness. The lamps inside the room were carried away by the attendants. He closed his eyes but could not fall asleep.
Perhaps because the night had grown deep and the Qingnan Palace was especially quiet, when a light appeared in the distance outside the window, Wen Jingmei sensed it immediately with keen alertness. His heart stirred slightly, and then he draped a robe over his shoulders and rose.
The lights stopped outside. Then came a knock at the door of his sleeping quarters, followed by a very familiar voice. “I recall that the State Preceptor has always rested after the Xu hour (7–9 PM). Why are you retiring so early today? Have you been overworked?”
To come uninvited, and to arrive with such an unperturbed demeanor, even if Wen Jingmei had not recognized her voice, the identity of the visitor would have been self-evident.
Wen Jingmei was grateful that he had thought to drape an outer robe over himself beforehand. He went to open the door for the Emperor. “I have had little to do of late, so I retired early. The Qingnan Palace has already dimmed its lights – why would Your Majesty…”
Wen Yanran smiled. “It is precisely because the lights are dimmed that it works well.”
Hearing this, Wen Jingmei left the rest of his words unspoken, unsure for a moment how to respond appropriately.
Wen Yanran did not wait for a reply. She gestured to her attendants, who filed into the room one by one, carrying a tray covered with brocade cloth.
A rich, fragrant aroma of fruit drifted through the air.
The Emperor herself lifted the brocade cloth and carefully and meticulously connected the bamboo charcoal filaments to the iron wires.
None of those present had anticipated it – the black charcoal filaments suddenly emitted a brilliant, radiant light, so dazzling that one could not look away. It was as if stars had gently descended from the heavens, falling within the Qingnan Palace, falling into the eyes of the young sovereign.
Just as Wen Jingmei was gazing intently at the light before him, Wen Yanran’s voice, as soft as the night breeze, sounded by his ear.
“This is the ‘lamp’ I wanted to show you.”
This was the first time an electric light had been lit in the Great Zhou, but it was by no means the last. Every time Wen Jingmei saw it, he could recall the radiant brilliance that had bloomed that day amidst the timeless night of the Qingnan Palace.
Lately, there had been rumors in the palace that the Emperor, eager to pursue learning, often sought out the State Preceptor to engage in literary exchanges with him. There was also a small episode: the Emperor had specially ordered the removal of all the frogs from the pond to elsewhere, on the grounds that she was concerned their loud croaking might disturb the quality of rest for those in the Qingnan Palace.
As emperor, if Wen Yanran wished to compose something, there were naturally secretaries to do the writing for her. Nevertheless, both her contemporaries and later generations generally held a favorable view of her own literary accomplishments – a fact reflected in the historical records: “In April, (the Emperor) arrived at Taikang and composed the palace-mode melody ‘Night Search for Plum Blossoms.'”
![After Exile, I Married the Amnesiac General [Rebirth]](https://i1.wp.com/lazygirltranslations.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/03/20240810023906_300_420.jpg?resize=151,215 "After Exile, I Married the Amnesiac General [Rebirth]")
