Half a Spoiler Chapter 31

After discussing Song Nanlou, Wen Yanran did not continue to talk about court affairs with Wen Jingmei.

Her diligence during this period was not only because she needed to consolidate her power as soon as possible but also because of the prompt on the system panel: “Rebellion in Jianping”

Wen Yanran thought that although this system was practically just a backdrop – aside from initially sparking some unrealistic expectations in her with the misleading advertisement, “Welcome to the Guide to Becoming a Tyrant” – it should still be reliable in displaying key plot points.

Fortunately, even though her system was practically useless, she had at least gathered some valuable spoilers from the comment section before transmigrating.

Wen Yanran casually took a local chronicle from Wen Jingmei’s bookshelf, flipped through a few pages, and chatted with him for a while about the customs and cultures of other regions.

As the State Preceptor, Wen Jingmei naturally possessed a rich repository of knowledge. Even though he had never served outside the capital, he was still familiar with some of the folk customs beyond the Central Plains.

Wen Yanran said, “I once heard the Grand Tutor speak about affairs in the borderlands. There are numerous tribes among the indigenous peoples there. Although they communicate with one another, most still speak the official language of the Central Plains.”

Wen Jingmei replied, “The indigenous tribes in the borderlands are too many, and each tribe has only a small population. If they do not learn the language of the Central Plains, they would hardly be able to communicate with the outside world.” He paused, then added, “But there are exceptions.”

Wen Yanran nodded with a smile. “Just like the Wuliu Tribe. They call themselves a tribe, but they have already built multiple cities beyond the frontier and possess cultivated land. Their wolfish ambition is such that they even demanded the court to grant them the title of king, though this was rejected by the ministers. Nevertheless, even without the name of a kingdom, they have already attained the substance of one.”

Wen Jingmei sensed from the Emperor’s tone that she had taken the issue of the Wuliu Tribe seriously. Not wishing to delve deeper into the topic, he shifted the conversation to goods like fur products from the borderlands.

Although major tribes like the Wuliu engaged in farming, their economy still relied heavily on animal husbandry. For them, livestock such as cattle, sheep, and horses served as hard currency. Moreover, leveraging their military strength, the Wuliu Tribe also plundered passing merchants to acquire wealth.

Wen Yanran looked up at a felt tapestry hanging on the wall as decoration and asked, “Is this also from the borderlands?”

Wen Jingmei replied, “Indeed.” He added, “Every year, a significant quantity of woolen goods from the Wuliu Tribe flows into the Central Plains.”

Wen Yanran nodded – using the term “significant quantity” indicated the tribe’s substantial capabilities.

Wen Jingmei noticed a pensive expression on the Emperor’s face and felt a stir of unease in his heart. As someone who often had the opportunity – albeit passively – to be in the Emperor’s presence, he had some understanding of Her Majesty’s temperament. He knew she harbored an implicit desire to consolidate power across the realm. If she had been unaware of the situation with the Wuliu Tribe, that would have been one thing, but now that she knew, it was likely only a matter of time before she would deploy military force against them.

Such a temperament, if not channeled into the makings of an illustrious ruler, could easily lead to becoming a sovereign who brings chaos and calamity to the nation.

That day, Wen Yanran had not dismissed her attendants before meeting with Wen Jingmei. During their conversation, the officials of Tianfu Palace came in twice to refresh their tea. When it was time for the third round, Chi Yi proactively took the tea tray from the attendant. While serving the Emperor a fresh cup, she reminded her, “Your Majesty, it is now noon.”

Wen Yanran nodded. “We shall have our midday meal here at Tianfu.”

As the Emperor’s authoritative presence grew increasingly evident, even Yuan Yanshi – a minister appointed by the late emperor to assist her – had begun to unconsciously yield more in her presence. This was even more true for someone as restrained and cautious as Wen Jingmei, who straightforwardly skipped the usual protocol of urging the Emperor to return to the palace. After all, since “every inch of land under heaven belongs to the sovereign,” it was hardly surprising that Wen Yanran felt at home wherever she went.

This was not the first time Wen Jingmei had shared a meal with the Emperor. In his eyes, while her governance style was somewhat assertive, her personal demeanor remained gentle and courteous. She showed little indulgence in culinary pleasures, and he couldn’t help but admire her remarkable self-discipline.

After the meal, Wen Yanran still did not leave. Instead, she took a short nap in the main hall of Tianfu Palace, which remained largely unoccupied most of the time. By the time she rose, Wen Yaoshi (meaning “pharmacist”), whom she had summoned earlier, was already waiting outside the hall.

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the window paper into the hall. Palace attendants carefully drew aside the gauze curtains for the Emperor. Though Tianfu Palace, as the residence of the State Preceptor, was well-equipped for warmth, the officials still feared the emperor might catch a chill. They attended to her with even more caution than usual, and Chi Yi, the Left Vice Commissioner of the City Bureau, personally came forward to help Wen Yanran into a black outer robe that had been warmed over the charcoal fire.

The decorations in Tianfu Palace were mostly elegant and understated. In the bedchamber where Wen Yanran currently rested, the floor was covered with a layer of snow-white, soft brocade. The hem of her robe brushed against it, like ink staining flawless white paper.

Wen Yanran stood up and raised her arms, allowing the palace attendants to fasten her belt.

Since her ascension to the throne, every affair in the palace had revolved around her. Wherever she stayed, Wen Yanran could feel herself at the center of everyone’s attention. No wonder emperors throughout history, regardless of their personal capabilities, firmly believed they were the supreme beings in this world.

As a transmigrator, Wen Yanran understood all too well that in the face of the grand tides of the world, even someone as exalted as the Sovereign was little different from an ant. Yet, before other ants, she possessed the power to determine their life, death, glory, and disgrace with a single word.

Wen Yanran occasionally reflected that being constantly immersed in such a pervasive sense of power, revered by all under heaven, inevitably led many of her predecessors to develop severe psychological issues. In this line of work, without firm goals and convictions, it was indeed easy to lose oneself.

Wen Yaoshi had been waiting outside for a long time when finally, a palace attendant summoned her into the hall. Her attire was simple, yet her bow to the Emperor was practiced and smooth, clearly indicating she had received some education.

Wen Yanran studied her niece, whom she was meeting for the first time, with careful attention. Perhaps due to the royal family’s ample nutrition, her own height actually surpassed that of her peers. Yet, the young girl before her, though younger in age, stood a full head taller than the current emperor. Recalling the line in her recommendation letter about “devoting years to studying and practicing swordsmanship at home,” Wen Yanran deeply felt that proper physical exercise truly was beneficial for a child’s growth and development…

“Is your name Yaoshi?”

Wen Yaoshi bowed her head. “Yes,” she said, then added with a bit of courage, “It is the childhood name my father gave me.”

The name “Yaoshi” was one of the common names of this era, with a high rate of repetition. Wen Yanran nodded. She recalled that the recommendation letter had mentioned that Wen Yaoshi’s parents had passed away very early, and considering her young age, it made sense that she still went by her childhood name.

Wen Yanran asked, “How are your studies?”

Wen Yaoshi performed a half-bow toward her. “Your Majesty is welcome to examine me.”

Wen Yanran glanced at the person beside her and smiled. “Then, Brother, please ask her a few questions on my behalf.”

What she had learned before transmigrating had little relevance to the current situation. Although she had been studying since arriving here, in terms of personal ability, she was likely still less knowledgeable than the adolescent Wen Yaoshi before her.

Wen Jingmei had no choice but to comply with the order. He selected a few passages from several common classics to question her. While Wen Yaoshi’s responses were not particularly brilliant, she answered every question without fail.

In an era where educational resources were extremely limited and most people couldn’t even write their own names, someone with Wen Yaoshi’s level of knowledge was already qualified to secure a clerical position.

Wen Yanran nodded and asked, “You’re almost of age to bind your hair – have you not been given a formal name yet?”

Wen Yaoshi initially intended to explain that her teacher planned to give her a formal name before she entered official service. But before the words left her mouth, a sudden insight dawned on her, and she grasped the underlying possibility in the Emperor’s words. She immediately knelt and said, “Thank you, Your Majesty, for bestowing a name.”

Wen Yanran smiled and did not refuse the implication. “In that case, your name shall be Wen Xun.”

This was a name she had seen in the comment section. In certain story branches, there was a greatly loyal official named Wen Xun from the imperial clan. However, despite Wen Xun’s unwavering devotion to the state, in every storyline where they appeared, the endings consistently maintained a strikingly uniform level of tragedy.

After transmigrating, Wen Yanran had specifically looked into this person. However, perhaps because the character “Xun” was relatively common, even within the imperial clan, quite a few people bore the name, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly who the mentioned individual was.

However, she had long since realized that in different story branches, the fates of many characters could undergo what could be described as earth-shattering changes. Bestowing such a name on a junior today might, by a stroke of luck, butterfly away the tragic fate of another Wen Xun – an unexpected delight. Even if it didn’t, there was no harm done.

The former Wen Yaoshi, now Wen Xun, bowed in gratitude once more. As the head of the Wen clan and the sovereign of all under heaven, Wen Yanran was fully entitled to act in a paternal role and grant her a name. For Wen Xun, what she received today was not just a new name but also an opportunity to enter official service.

Due to her family’s poverty, Wen Xun usually lived in her teacher’s residence located in Anping Lane.

Her teacher, surnamed Song and named Song Ang, was a clansman of Attendant Song.

After learning that his student had entered the palace, Song Ang had been preoccupied with the matter. As soon as she returned, he summoned Wen Xun to inquire in detail about the day’s events.

Wen Xun thought for a moment and said, “The Emperor is tolerant yet not indulgent, bearing the qualities of an enlightened ruler.”

Song Ang laughed. “Didn’t you say you barely spoke with Her Majesty? How can you so lightly judge the Emperor’s temperament?”

Wen Xun replied, “Although Her Majesty did not speak much with me, observing the orderly conduct of the close attendants around her shows that the Emperor must be different from the late emperor.”

Song Ang glanced at his student and nodded. Finally, he added a word of caution, “Since you recognize that the Emperor is tolerant yet not indulgent, you must be especially careful. You are about to enter official service – remember to always be prudent in your words and actions.”

Wen Xun acknowledged the advice and added, “Today, Her Majesty bestowed upon me a new name: Wen Xun.”

Upon hearing this, Song Ang paused for a moment.

He had originally intended to give his student a formal name upon her entry into official service, and the very character he had settled on in his mind happened to be “Xun.”

The reason behind Song Ang’s choice was that he had discerned his student’s innermost aspirations – he hoped she would follow the path of righteousness and remain true to the ideals of her youth.

Yet, the Emperor had bestowed upon her this very same name…

Song Ang reflected that he had previously heard others in his clan mention the new Emperor’s ability to perceive the subtlest traits in people. It seemed now that such remarks were far from unfounded.

After learning the basic details from his student, Song Ang went straight to his clansman to discuss the family’s future prospects. Armed with this new information, Attendant Song finally made up his mind and summoned his nephew, Song Nanlou, to carefully explain some key strategies for succeeding in official service.

Song · had no desire to become an official · Nanlou: “…”

His repeated refusals of court appointments in the past had, of course, been tacitly permitted by his family. The Song clan had received great favor from the Zhou dynasty over generations, and even if the Wen family were to lose the empire, they could not possibly serve a second master. However, Emperor Li was truly not a ruler worth assisting. Disheartened, Attendant Song had inevitably grown somewhat indifferent to court affairs. Although he had never abandoned his own post, he had allowed the younger generation considerable leeway. This way, if chaos ever did engulf the empire, he, as Attendant, would naturally follow the Sovereign in death for the sake of the nation, while the younger generation might still have a chance to survive.