Wen Yanran said, “Call the Director of the Imperial Household in.”
The Director had clearly been made to wait outside in the freezing cold for quite a while; his legs felt so numb they were on the verge of running away from home. Yet when he entered the hall to face the emperor, aside from looking a bit pale, he did not dare show the slightest trace of discomposure.
He had changed his robe and wiped the melted snow from his body, doing everything he could to avoid giving the Emperor the impression that he was trying to win pity.
Wen Yanran’s tone was not stern; instead, she wore a gentle smile. “Have you eaten yet, Director?”
Hou Suo replied in a trembling voice, “I have just humbly received and partaken of the soup Your Majesty graciously bestowed.”
Wen Yanran nodded and exchanged a few casual words with him. Then she suddenly smiled and said, “The New Year is approaching. Even if you devote yourself to public duties, Director, you should still have your family come together for a gathering.” He glanced at Hou Suo. “Besides, your daughter and son have studied for many years. It’s time they secured a proper post.”
Upon hearing this, the Director felt far more alarm than pleased. The current emperor had always been measured in her rewards and punishments. If he himself had not performed well, being allowed to keep his life was already the result of the Emperor’s benevolence – how could his children possibly be granted favor as well?
The only explanation was that this arrangement was no easy blessing; rather, it carried a certain degree of danger.
Wen Yanran considered for a moment, then instructed, “Your son is still young. He can go to the Imperial Academy to further his studies and make some friends. As for your daughter… she may as well go serve in a local post for a period of training. Once she has accomplished something, she can return to Jianping to take up an official position.”
The Director’s heart stirred. Connecting this with the matters discussed in court today, he instantly understood what ‘local’ referred to. He bowed deeply again and rasped, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
A moment earlier, he had felt a strong urge to play dumb – pretend he didn’t understand what the Emperor meant by “local,” thereby suggesting that he was already muddle-headed and decrepit, his senses dulled, and thus had failed to obtain any information related to the court discussion from his subordinates… Yet when the moment came to respond, he didn’t dare deceive the emperor in the slightest and instead honestly indicated that he understood Her Majesty’s intent.
As for the children of inner-court officials: on the one hand, their family’s wealth and status depended entirely on the Emperor, so they were expected to help Her Majesty keep the bureaucracy in check. On the other hand, because they lacked sufficient talent and virtue themselves, if any task went poorly, they were easily made the scapegoats.
Compared with the late emperor’s unpredictable temper, the current emperor seemed far more gentle, known among the palace staff for his benevolence. Yet the Dong family were marquises – their household was destroyed the moment the emperor said so, and after having their gates torn down, they even had to submit a memorial to confess their guilt on their own. That renowned Xuanyangzi, who mingled with nobles and was someone even the Director himself had considered currying favor with to win imperial regard – now nearly all the blood in his body had drained out, his very life serving to show everyone the fate of those who slighted the Sovereign. As for the Ji clan, whose ancestors had once been honored in the imperial ancestral temple as meritorious ministers, their entire family was wiped out save for a few young children, and their property confiscated. Even the former Seventh Prince, a true-born son of the late emperor and supported by great clans, was executed on the very day Wen Yanran ascended the throne to establish her authority…
If not for the season being wrong, grass ought to have already grown over these people’s graves.
The Emperor was only thirteen this year, not tall of stature, and now seated upon a wooden couch. Yet though the Director stood over eight feet tall, once he bowed low to the floor, he could see nothing but the dark hem of the Emperor’s robe.
Inside the Western Yong Palace, it was warm as spring. Yet at the moment he bent down to kowtow, the Director felt as though he were kneeling once again out in the snow.
Wen Yanran glanced at him and smiled. “Minister Hou, you are an old hand in the palace. I trust you will not fail to understand my intention.”
Although life in the Great Zhou was relatively primitive, as emperor Wen Yanran still enjoyed certain special privileges – for example, when she needed to discuss matters, she could simply summon the participants directly before her. It had a faint air of a freelancer working from home.
Those who were summoned did not resent the sudden overtime. After all, for most court officials, being called into Western Yong Palace to deliberate on affairs was itself a mark of imperial recognition.
Zhang Luo led Yuan Yanshi, this regent minister, guiding him with exceptional caution and respect the entire way, observing every courtesy – for although Yuan Yanshi had been demoted to the post of Court Architect for Imperial Entertainment, his own political capital had not been greatly diminished, and he was still regarded as the foremost among the officials.
Outside, the weather was so cold that water would freeze instantly; the iron wind chimes under the eaves were locked in icicles, unable to make the slightest sound.
Today, the Emperor was, quite unusually, dressed in a light-colored casual robe. Her expression was no different from usual. After everyone had arrived, she called on Lu Yuanguang to explain the suspicions she had raised earlier. Lu Yuanguang did not waste the opportunity the emperor had given her; she had hurriedly reorganized the information and reported that those incidents, once dismissed in the documents as empty fabrications, might indeed have occurred – especially if local powerful clans had intentionally fanned the flames.
For a moment, the court officials in the front hall of Western Yong Palace looked at one another in astonishment.
They were all senior ministers who had served through at least two reigns. With things laid out so plainly, it was impossible for them not to understand what the Marquis of Quanling’s faction was plotting. But even if the scheme had been uncovered early, it was by no means good news.
The situations in Gaoyi and Xiangqing Commanderies showed that the central government was losing its grip over the localities.
And given the late emperor’s level of competence, this was very likely not an isolated case.
The court officials discussed the matter for a while, but in the end they followed the Emperor’s intention: they would send two newly appointed Chief Clerics along with subordinate clerks to take control of the situation, and they further deliberated on how to handle various local problems once there.
According to Wen Yanran’s plan, the daughter of the Director of the Imperial Household could serve as one of the subordinate clerks, while the two Chief Clerics would be selected from major clans such as the Lu, Song, Yuan, and Zheng families. Once these young people of aristocratic lineage took up office, they would not go alone – their clans would certainly send household retainers and private troops with them, ensuring a very robust overall martial presence.
At present, aside from the key information “spoiled” in the commentaries, Wen Yanran had very little understanding of the outstanding talents among the younger generation of Great Zhou, so she ordered the ministers to submit memorials recommending candidates.
When the political discussion was drawing to a close, Yuan Yanshi happened to cough lightly and said to the others, “This matter is of utmost importance. I ask everyone to keep it strictly confidential. Even those closest to you – your parents, spouses, and children – must not be told.”
The officials bowed their heads and agreed.
Yuan Yanshi observed this scene with a complex emotion stirring within him. He still possessed the prestige and capabilities of a minister assisting in governance, yet the situation had shifted from him leading the officials in supporting the Emperor to the Sovereign personally commanding the court.
The so-called authority of a sovereign is built bit by bit in this manner. Yuan Yanshi could not even fully grasp how the circumstances had evolved to this point.
After all, how long had it been since the Emperor ascended the throne?
A thought, vaguely similar to one Lu Yuanguang might have, flashed through his mind – this throne, by its very nature, was meant for Wen Yanran.
Wen Yanran had no habit of detaining her subordinates to waste time. Once matters were discussed, she promptly dispatched court officials to escort the ministers either out of the palace or back to their ministries. She herself went directly to her bedchamber to change clothes, simultaneously instructing her attendants, “Summon Captain Zhong at Shen hour (3 to 5 PM) and Commander Luo at You hour (5-7PM).”
Chi Yi and the others took note one by one – summoning someone at this hour, according to the Emperor’s intention, clearly meant inviting the two to stay for a meal.
After removing her outer robe, Wen Yanran sat on the wooden couch, while palace attendants helped her change into more comfortable indoor shoes.
At that time, ordinary shoes were mostly made of cloth, straw, or hemp. Slightly more expensive ones were crafted from animal fur or silk, and there were also wooden clogs suitable for rainy days, among others.
As for the households of nobles and royalty, they differed even more from the common folk. It was said that both Emperor Dao and Emperor Li had once bestowed jade shoes upon their beloved palace attendants and consorts. Court ministers had mentioned this when discussing history, though their intention was primarily to subtly criticize the extravagant lifestyles of those two emperors and, by extension, admonish the current sovereign. However, Wen Yanran imagined the hardness of jade shoes and how it would feel to walk in them, thinking that being a favored consort of the emperor truly tested one’s defensive attributes…
These items, whether precious or ordinary, clearly did not align with the preferences of Wen Yanran, a modern-day transmigrator. She had once summoned officials from the Imperial Household and simply described the design of modern slippers, tasking them with producing a batch of indoor shoes. Eager to satisfy the Emperor, the Imperial Household Department presented numerous samples of varying styles. Upon noticing that Wen Yanran, as expected, chose the batch without any pearl or jade adornments, they further solidified their belief that “the current Emperor is a remarkably wise sovereign.”
Having changed into more comfortable clothing, Wen Yanran leaned against the armrest and asked Chi Yi, “Since Commander Luo assumed his post, what are your impressions of him?”
Chi Yi replied promptly, “It is said that he is very dutiful and strict in handling affairs.”
Wen Yanran glanced at Chi Yi.
As an inner court official, Chi Yi’s primary network was confined to the palace, and she had always conducted herself with meticulous discretion. Unless the Emperor instructed otherwise, she would not casually extend her influence into the Imperial Guards.
Yet, if she described Luo Yue as dutiful and strict, there must certainly be reasons that justified such an evaluation.
Unlike the Inner Guard of the Imperial Guards, who were primarily responsible for the safety of the emperor and their family, the duties of the Central Guard focused more on supervising passage within and around the imperial city. Of course, throughout successive dynasties, emperors had intentionally interwoven the responsibilities and authority of the two guards to better maintain control over these troops stationed so close to them.
Wen Yanran thought to herself that since inner court officials often left the palace to purchase goods, it was likely at these checkpoints that they had some interaction with the Central Guard.
Chi Yi’s earlier comment was most likely because Luo Yue had made an example of a few junior attendants who were smuggling private goods or had missed entry and exit curfews.
It was common for newly appointed officials to enforce rules strictly, and Wen Yanran did not take it to heart. After understanding the situation, she picked up some memorials and read them carefully by the window. She remained there until the hour of Shen, when she heard that Zhong Zhiwei had arrived, and only then did she rise.
Wen Yanran regularly summoned Zhong Zhiwei to the Western Yong Palace not only to cultivate a trusted confidant but also to exercise and strengthen her physical fitness. She had even made arrangements with Zhong Zhiwei to learn horseback riding from her once spring arrived.
Due to the cold weather and the vast space inside the hall, Wen Yanran had moved the exercise area indoors. While stretching her muscles, she chatted casually with Zhong Zhiwei and asked, “Are you and Commander Luo getting along harmoniously?”
Zhong Zhiwei thought for a moment and replied honestly, “Since Commander Luo took office, he has demonstrated commendable leadership in managing his subordinates. The relations between the two guard units have been quite harmonious, and many Inner Guards have even requested to transfer to the Central Guard.”
Wen Yanran nodded and smiled, saying, “In that case, Commander Luo truly lives up to being the upright and loyal individual recommended by Vice Minister Wang.”
The Emperor’s tone and manner of speaking were no different from usual, yet Chi Yi felt a stir of intuition.
Based on her understanding of the Emperor, the reason for summoning Luo Yue today might have been that, among the three guard commanders, he was the only one who had not yet established any meritorious service. The Emperor likely intended to ask him for recommendations on whom to send to Gaoyi or Xiangqing, thereby allowing him to gain credit for the recommendation. This way, the team dispatched to the regions would include representatives from the scholar-officials, the inner court officials, and the imperial guards. Among them, the inner court officials – often viewed with the most suspicion – would, due to the recent mistake made by the Director of the Imperial Household, not dare to act arrogantly. With such an arrangement, the three factions could actually coexist harmoniously.
However, in that fleeting moment, as a master at interpreting the Emperor’s intentions with flawless precision, Chi Yi intuitively sensed that the Emperor’s thoughts had subtly shifted.
