Originally, the Zheng clan had risked everything to ensure Wen Jiangong’s rise to the throne – because when it came to the two sides, shared glory was uncertain, but shared ruin was guaranteed.
The Zheng clansmen seemed to have suddenly understood, a trace of relief appearing on their faces. “In that case…”
Zheng Yinchuan explained, “The new emperor has only just ascended the throne, while the Zheng clan has already lost all its wings. Even if someone needs to be punished to establish authority or to consolidate power – how could that ever fall to you or me? Moreover–” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “The present emperor has no maternal family.”
The Zheng clansmen present all showed expressions of dawning realization.
Zheng Yinchuan looked toward those clansmen who were still hesitating and sighed. “Besides, even if we didn’t act this way, what else could we do? The Zheng clan is not like other noble families – our roots are all in Jianzhou. Could we possibly go and pledge ourselves to the Fourth Prince instead?”
After he said this, even the few who were still dissatisfied fell silent – just as the Zheng clan was not the family most hated by the new emperor, the new emperor was also not the ruler most unacceptable to the Zhengs.
After all, there was a deep blood feud separating them from the Cui clan, and as for Wen Jiangong – he had been imprisoned by the late emperor in Youtai. Even if he were pardoned one day, there would be little chance of him ever ascending the throne. If the Zhengs were to stubbornly stay aboard that ship without moving, they would only slowly sink into obscurity.
After successfully calming the clansmen, the Zheng father and son exchanged a few private words – they planned to find an opportunity to host a banquet for that Censor-in-Chief He who had recently been favored by the Emperor, and at the same time inquire whether there were any suitable sons or daughters among the younger generation of the He family for a potential marriage alliance. Even if the match did not come to fruition, it would still serve as a gesture to show their loyalty to the new emperor.
While the ministers were racking their brains trying to read the Emperor’s intentions, Wen Yanran herself was busy carrying out what had become her second major duty after mourning rites – attending school.
Wen Yanran knew that her throne was not yet secure, so she had no intention of making any sweeping moves against the court officials for the time being.
As someone with years of modern-day work experience, she understood very well that power does not come from being granted authority by those above, but from the obedience of those below.
The Wen family had held the empire for many years and had built a solid foundation of popular support. Even after being tormented for so long by the late emperor, they still retained a considerable amount of political legacy.
From what had happened earlier in the Qianyuan Hall, it could be seen that – at least in Jianping – most people’s hearts still leaned toward the throne.
Before her transmigration, Wen Yanran’s knowledge of history had always stayed at the level sufficient to pass standardized exams – never deep enough for real academic exploration. She only vaguely remembered that there were roughly two kinds of “fatuous rulers.”
One type was like the Second Emperor of Qin – possessing certain natural talents but, thanks to the “help” of those in power around him, managed to squander the entire empire. The other type was like King Jie of Xia – reportedly gifted and even virtuous in youth, but after years on the throne, revealed a cruel and tyrannical nature.
For the time being, Wen Yanran couldn’t hope to emulate the first kind. As for the second, she had never given much thought to the underlying reason – until now. She suddenly began to understand: if those monarchs had not first shown themselves to be wise and capable, they would never have been able to seize power in their own hands; and without that power, there would have been no opportunity to indulge in tyranny later on.
Wen Yanran thought that since her professional goal was to become a “fatuous ruler,” the very first step should be to learn from her predecessors – by figuring out how to gather power firmly into her own hands.
Ever since the Emperor’s health had recovered enough for her to resume normal life, Grand Tutor Yuan – whom the late emperor had personally appointed as regent and chief counselor – had been coming every day to give lessons to the new sovereign, explaining the current state of the court.
Strictly speaking, since the empire was still in mourning, even the Emperor ought to have suspended lessons and observed filial rites. But Wen Yanran’s own foundations were so poor that Grand Tutor Yuan had to visit daily under the pretext of “comforting His Majesty, lest excessive grief should harm the imperial health,” using the time instead to teach her essential knowledge.
Wen Yanran was especially courteous toward this venerable tutor.
Although she knew that this piece of history had already happened – that what she was experiencing now was nothing more than a false dream – looking at Yuan Yanshi, celebrated in the comment sections as “the loyal minister of Great Zhou,” she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt.
After all, she bore the mission of breaking the dream – and that meant she was destined to fail those loyal ministers.
Wen Yanran reasoned that, judging from the natural limits of human lifespan, the man probably wouldn’t outlive her anyway. Once she had firmly established her position, she could simply dismiss him from court – there was no need to deal a heavy blow. In fact, given his upright and forthright character, he might even choose to resign on his own once he realized how incompetent she truly was.
What Wen Yanran, who had only skimmed through the comment sections at a glance, didn’t realize was that expressions like “the Great × Loyal Minister” were often just readers being ironic or making memes…
After the Emperor moved out of her former secluded residence, she temporarily settled in the Western Yong Palace. The rites and court etiquette of Great Zhou were not excessively rigid, and since this palace lay at the junction between the inner and outer courts, it could also serve as a venue for summoning ministers to discuss affairs of state.
When Grand Tutor Yuan entered the hall, he noticed a few unfamiliar faces among the Emperor’s attendants, and his gaze paused slightly.
He had already heard that some days earlier, while strolling about the palace, Wen Yanran had casually selected a few boys and girls around her own age to serve in the Western Yong Palace. These young attendants had only received basic training under the Imperial Household Department and were far from qualified for formal positions. They had never interacted with Wen Yanran before, so they clearly weren’t pieces she had planted in advance. Moreover, the young emperor didn’t seem to expect them to become trusted aides – she merely kept them nearby for casual conversation and amusement.
Besides, even if they truly were promising talents, without careful cultivation over time, they could hardly become of any real use.
If Wen Yanran hadn’t been following the comment section’s “spoiler guide” on whom to recruit, Grand Tutor Yuan’s assessment would, in fact, have been quite reasonable…
Most of the people serving in the Imperial Household Department were eunuchs and palace women. They were responsible for managing the royal family’s finances and, having devoted their lives to palace service, took care of the imperial family’s daily needs.
In addition to the attendants already assigned to her, Wen Yanran personally selected a few more people to serve as her close aides – among them a young eunuch named Zhang Luo.
In certain narrative branches, this very Zhang Luo would later rise to become the head of the eunuch faction that dominated the court, notorious for persecuting numerous officials during his tenure and amassing vast wealth through corruption.
Besides Zhang Luo, there was also a palace maid named Chi Yi. In another storyline, Chi Yi – originally a low-ranking laundry maid – was brought into the palace for her natural intelligence. While working, she received lessons in literacy and etiquette from palace tutors. Starting as a junior clerk, she gradually rose through the ranks to become the Inner Secretary, deeply trusted by the Emperor and effectively in control of the entire palace administration. Her words and gestures could alter imperial decrees, and at the height of her power, the appointment and dismissal of high ministers were all decided by her alone. The Emperor himself addressed her as the Inner Chancellor.
Both Zhang Luo and Chi Yi, during their respective periods of power, had been favored precisely because they catered to the sovereign’s whims. They consolidated authority by eliminating rivals, becoming infamous as archetypal treacherous courtiers.
By gathering these two figures to her side, Wen Yanran clearly hoped that their combined potential would yield an effect greater than the sum of its parts.
To outsiders, however, both Chi Yi and Zhang Luo were still too inexperienced – too young, with no official posts to their names. They seemed like nothing more than ordinary palace servants whose only distinction was being close in age to the young emperor, and thus had simply caught her eye.
Grand Tutor Yuan merely cast the two a brief glance and paid them no further attention.
He had come today to give the new emperor a lesson on the layout of the Forbidden Palace.
Wen Yanran indeed knew little about such matters.
Although Grand Tutor Yuan explained it in a tactful way, Wen Yanran still understood what he meant: the late emperor had been fond of pleasure and had built many palaces and gardens during his lifetime. The Western Yong Palace where she now resided, as well as the Qianyuan Hall where she had held the mourning rites, were both located within the Taiqi Palace complex.
The Taiqi Palace was not one of the new residences built by the late emperor, but rather the principal palace of Great Zhou. After ascending the throne, the late emperor found it old and unrefined, so he ordered the construction of two new palace gardens nearby – the Gui Palace and the Yao Palace. Officially, these were meant to be private retreats for leisure visits, but once they were completed, he ended up spending most of the year living there, seldom returning to the Taiqi Palace. As a result, both of those private royal estates were also equipped with fully functional administrative offices.
As for why Wen Yanran now resided within the Taiqi Palace – it was mainly because she had not been favored by the late emperor. Unlike other princes and princesses who had a stronger presence at court, she had never been granted a permanent residence in either the Gui or Yao Palaces.
The vast imperial city, of course, was guarded by the Yulin Army, also known as the Imperial Guards. This force had originally been under the command of the Grand Marshal. However, after that office was abolished by the Mourning Empress – the late emperor’s mother and Wen Yanran’s grandmother – the Yulin Army fell for a time under eunuch control. Later, its command was transferred to a favored female official of the Mourning Empress. When the Mourning Empress passed away, the late emperor, acting on the advice of his senior ministers, handed command of the Yulin Army to the Grand General. After the Grand General’s death and the subsequent confiscation of his entire clan, control of the Yulin Army reverted once again to the eunuchs.
At that time, the court officials jointly submitted a memorial in protest, so to appease them, the late emperor divided the Yulin Army into three branches – the Outer Guard, the Central Guard, and the Inner Guard – stipulating that only the commander of the Inner Guard would be a eunuch.
Although Grand Tutor Yuan’s wording was extremely restrained, Wen Yanran could still hear the faint note of disapproval in his tone – the reluctance that the authority over the Inner Guard had once again fallen into the hands of eunuchs.
Wen Yanran asked, “Grand Tutor, may I ask who currently commands the Inner Guard?”
Grand Preceptor Yuan paused, choosing his words carefully before replying, “The former commander of the Inner Guard was executed for conspiring with a prince. At present, the commander of the Central Guard is temporarily overseeing their duties.”
Hearing this, Wen Yanran smiled lightly. “And who is this commander of the Central Guard? Have I ever met him?”
This time, Grand Tutor Yuan hesitated even longer. At last, he decided to speak plainly. “The commander of the Central Guard is the son of the Ji family – his name is Ji Yue. He is presently on medical leave at home, but he has submitted a memorial stating that once he recovers, he will come to the palace to pay his respects to Your Majesty.”
Wen Yanran found the name Ji Yue rather familiar – she must have seen it mentioned somewhere in the comment section. Grand Tutor Yuan, noticing the Emperor’s expression of recollection, took the initiative to offer a brief explanation.
According to him, the Ji family had long served as close attendants to the imperial family; in every generation, its sons and daughters held positions within the Yulin Army. Since the founding of the dynasty, they had been deeply trusted by the Wen family. The current commander of the Central Guard, Ji Yue, had originally been a loyal subject of Great Zhou. However, during one of the late emperor’s private excursions in disguise, he happened to see Ji Yue’s aunt and found her strikingly beautiful. Not long afterward – by some mysterious coincidence – Ji Yue’s uncle suddenly fell ill and died, and his widow, that same aunt, was conveniently “sent off” to a Daoist convent for quiet cultivation.
The late emperor’s original plan had been for the lady to remain at the convent for a time of “spiritual retreat,” after which she would be quietly brought into the inner palace. But before her period of seclusion had even ended, the emperor himself fell gravely ill. Even as he lay bedridden, he could not forget the beauty he had glimpsed that day. He secretly dispatched his trusted eunuch, accompanied by imperial guards, to the convent – and had a cup of poisoned wine delivered to her, forcing her to die as his funerary companion.
Grand Tutor Yuan sighed. “Commander Ji is a man of upright integrity, Your Majesty would do well to treat him with care and reassurance.” He added, “As for the commander of the Outer Guard – he was imprisoned and executed by the late emperor. The post is now temporarily managed by Deputy General Yan.”
Wen Yanran gave a slight nod – Grand Tutor Yuan truly lived up to his title as a regent personally appointed by the late emperor. What he shared was full of substance, leaving her with a faint sense of unease, as though she might not live long enough to ever become the ‘fatuous ruler’ she aspired to be.
After a brief hesitation, Grand Tutor Yuan finally said, “I have something I wish to tell Your Majesty today.”
Wen Yanran gazed at the old minister before her, the corners of her lips lifting slightly as she spoke in a gentle tone. “I lost my father at a young age; now, there is none we can rely upon more than you. Whatever you wish to say – speak freely.”
