In the prefectural office of Gaoyi.
Song Nanlou raised an eyebrows at the friend before him and said, “What brings you here today?”
Shi Zhuhe smiled. “Affairs in Xiangqing are now managed by Captain Wen. With little to occupy me, I thought I might as well drop by and see you.”
Having known Shi Zhuhe since childhood, Song Nanlou was well-acquainted with his thoughts. He understood that his visit to Gaoyi at this time was a deliberate choice to avoid competing for credit with the imperial clan and to maintain a low profile. Shaking his head, Song Nanlou remarked, “Though you’ve entered public service, you only ever exert half your effort when handling affairs.”
Shi Zhuhe chuckled. “As long as official duties are not neglected, why not enjoy life when there’s a chance?” He added, “Now that you have chosen your path, I would still prefer to remain a carefree wanderer for a few more years.”
Song Nanlou knew that his friend had long believed the Great Zhou was nearing its end. Aware that he himself was no hero destined to turn the tide, the friend had resolved to find a suitable lord to serve. While he also recognized the young emperor’s innate talent and intelligence, he felt it was all in vain – trapped as he was by the court’s intricate politics, no amount of effort would truly suffice.
As a subject who had already committed himself to following the Emperor, Song Nanlou was eager to draw his friend into the same circle of dutiful service. He took a letter from his sleeve and offered it, saying, “This was written to me by Her Majesty some days ago. You may read it.”
Shi Zhuhe accepted the letter, scanning it swiftly from start to finish. In the end, he nodded and sighed with admiration, “Her Majesty’s vision indeed spans a thousand miles.”
The letter was straightforward in its content. It instructed Song Nanlou to intensify efforts to curb the local magnates, extracting as much grain and provisions from them as possible. It also ordered the conscription of servants and retainers from these powerful families into labor corps, tasked with transporting a portion of the seized supplies to Qingyi Commandery. The reason why Wen Jinming had been wary of the border camp near Qingyi withdrawing earlier was precisely because this area lay in the same direction as Gaoyi, Xiangqing, and other commanderies. Moreover, at least a third of the journey consisted of waterways, ensuring travel would not be overly slow.
In addition, the letter mentioned a matter that required coordination with Xiangqing. Since the resolution of affairs in the two commanderies had progressed faster than anticipated, the imperial guard should not rush to return once everything was settled. Instead, they were to remain and oversee the spring ploughing before making their way back.
Song Nanlou said, “Along with this letter, there was another brought at the same time. Her Majesty instructed that if General Xiao Xichi were to arrive unexpectedly, the second letter should be given to her.” He looked at his friend. “But as of today, I’ve heard no unusual movements from Jianping – do you think General Xiao will come?”
Shi Zhuhe replied, “If there were no second letter, General Xiao might have had a fifty-fifty chance of arriving. But since there is a second letter, the likelihood is now less than ten percent.”
Song Nanlou nodded in agreement – by leaving such an instruction, Wen Yanran had clearly anticipated Xiao Xichi’s intention to flee and would naturally take precautions to prevent it. The second letter was merely a contingency, prepared just in case.
Shi Zhuhe stood quietly for a moment, a faint, bitter smile suddenly appearing on his face. “If Her Majesty had been born fifty years earlier…”
Song Nanlou clasped his hands behind his back and said, “I, too, once wished Her Majesty had been born fifty years earlier. But now, it is still not too late.”
Shi Zhuhe remained silent, and Song Nanlou did not expect to persuade his friend immediately. With a light laugh, he added, “If you still find it hard to believe, why not observe a little longer?”
At that very moment, it was not only those around Song Nanlou who were discussing the situation in Jianping. The side of the Marquis of Quanling was also somewhat unsettled by the unexpected changes in the capital – aside from Wen Jinming, who remained remarkably composed, both the Chu and Cui families were growing visibly restless and uneasy.
Inside a private chamber.
Upon receiving the letter, Chu Cong fell silent for a long while before finally addressing his advisor, “It seems we have underestimated Wen Jingmei.”
The advisor asked, “Do you mean to say that the recent events are all the work of the State Preceptor?”
Chu Cong nodded. “Although letters from the capital consistently praise Her Majesty’s keen discernment, if the young emperor were truly as astute as rumored, how could there have been no signs of it during his youth?” He continued, “In truth, I had my doubts when Wen Jingmei was appointed as Grand Pillar of the State. According to the conventions of the Great Zhou, Tianfu Palace has always refrained from meddling in court affairs. Yet, since the young emperor ascended the throne, has Wen Jingmei shown even a trace of his former reclusive demeanor?”
The advisor showed a thoughtful expression, then earnestly praised, “Your insight is profound, my lord.” He added a few critical remarks, “Who would have thought that Wen Jingmei, who feigned indifference to fame and fortune since childhood, was actually laying the groundwork for this day?”
They had their own sources of information in Jianping, confirming that the Emperor frequently visited the Tianfu Palace to meet with the State Preceptor. Not long ago, many Taoist officials from the Tianfu Palace had also been selected to serve in the court.
Chu Cong sighed softly. “Even Yuan Yanshi is gradually trying to withdraw from the fray – this shows just how powerful the influence of Tianfu Palace has become.”
The advisor expressed admiration, “Your discernment is truly sharp, my lord. If it is not Wen Jingmei who holds sway over the court, then it must be Yuan Yanshi. Yet now he has been demoted to the position of Court Architect for Imperial Entertainment and has not been restored to his original post even after the change of the reign era. Where the authority of the court truly lies, then, is hardly a mystery.”
Wen Yanran had no idea what her potential opponents were speculating. Had she known, she might have sighed in amusement: If one disregarded the fact that she was a transmigrator, their line of reasoning would have been quite accurate…
The advisor asked, “Since that is the case, how should my lord alleviate the concerns of the Marquis of Quanling?”
Chu Cong sneered coldly. “A centipede may die, but it does not fall limp. With Yuan Yanshi’s temperament, he is likely only biding his time for now. We still have some capable hands in Jianping – let us spread a few rumors to undermine Wen Jingmei’s influence. As soon as the Tianfu Palace shows the slightest sign of weakness, Yuan Yanshi will surely seize the opportunity to rise. As long as they are locked in endless struggle, won’t it be more convenient for the Marquis to advance his plans steadily?”
In the Western Yong Palace, the Emperor – so deeply pondered by countless others -was currently holding a map of the border regions, examining it intently.
The Emperor was so diligent in governance that she often neglected rest and meals, which required her close attendants to take extra care. Chi Yi kept track of the time and, seizing the right moment, brought over a cup of warm water to soothe the Emperor’s throat.
As a close attendant, she was well-acquainted with the Emperor’s daily preferences. For instance, while Her Majesty did not dislike sweets, she particularly disliked the honeyed water popular among Jianping’s high officials and nobles, finding such beverages insufficiently thirst-quenching. In daily life, her first choice was warm water, followed by lightly brewed tea.
However, Wen Yanran, despite her aversion to honeyed water, understood why such a drink had become fashionable. The Great Zhou had been established for a long time, and Jianping had served as the capital for over three hundred years. Years of accumulated wastewater had seeped into the ground, affecting the drinking water for the city’s residents. During the reign of Emperor Dao, the Water Bureau was ordered to redirect a branch of flowing water from outside the city into Jianping’s Qingliang Pool, with dedicated personnel assigned to maintain it. By the time of Emperor Li, the imperial household no longer drew water from Qingliang Pool but instead sourced mountain springs and dew. Though the Yao Palace and the Gui Palace were connected to the Taiqi Palace, they were located outside the city, near mountains. Extravagant in his lifestyle, Emperor Li ordered craftsmen to channel the clear mountain springs through copper pipes for his own use.
After Wen Yanran ascended the throne, the Yao Palace and the Gui Palace had lost their function as the Emperor’s regular residences, but the original facilities were preserved. Every day, designated personnel would transport spring water from the Yao and Gui Palaces for the Emperor’s use.
Wen Yanran found this arrangement quite satisfactory. Even though she did not reside in the Yao Palace, she could still enjoy its conveniences, ensuring a steady water supply for the palace while also subtly signaling to others that she was no better than her predecessors – a tyrannical ruler.
Chi Yi and the others, however, thought differently in their hearts: The Emperor was indeed frugal, yet she did not go out of her way to dismantle the palace’s amenities simply to highlight her own modesty. Her actions were natural and unaffected, without the slightest hint of pretense – truly the mark of a wise and enlightened sovereign.
Since the Emperor favored spring water, the high officials and nobles in Jianping, and even the common people, naturally followed suit. Vendors who made a living from this would fetch water from outside the city each morning to sell within the city walls, naming their offerings “Gui Spring” and “Yao Spring” to bask in the royal association.
As the New Year holiday was nearing its end, Wen Yanran, as the emperor, had gradually resumed her duties, immersing herself once more in piles of documents. By the second quarter of the Wei hour (around 1:45 PM), Chi Yi went to remind Her Majesty that Yuan Yanshi would be arriving shortly.
Wen Yanran felt that, having welcomed the new year and changed the reign era, it was time to map out plans for the coming year. Doing this alone would be inefficient, so she summoned the figure widely acknowledged in the comment section as a great loyal minister, hoping to draw some inspiration from him.
Seeing the figure enter the hall, Wen Yanran politely rose and greeted with a smile, “Grand Tutor, you’ve been kept waiting.”
Yuan Yanshi bowed first before correcting her, “Your Majesty, I no longer holds the position of Grand Tutor. I beg Your Majesty to refrain from using the former title.”
Wen Yanran smiled faintly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. After granting him a seat, she got straight to the point.
She had summoned him today to ask a question: as the emperor, on what foundations should she rely to sustain her rule?
Regarding Wen Yanran’s question, many classic texts and historical works offered profound insights, and Yuan Yanshi was well-practiced in such imperial audience responses. Without hesitation, he began by mentioning, “Virtue and moral integrity…”
Wen Yanran made a gesture to stop him, smiling as she said, “Today, let’s focus only on people.”
Yuan Yanshi’s heart skipped a beat, and a faint shiver ran down his spine.
For the Emperor to put it this way was equivalent to asking him: Who among people could be trusted?
Yuan Yanshi was unsure of the Emperor’s true intentions, so he responded according to his own background and stance, offering an answer that could not be wrong. “Many among the scholar-official families are benevolent and broad-minded, worthy of serving as Your Majesty’s trusted aides.”
He himself came from an influential family and currently held a somewhat leading position among the scholar-officials of Jianzhou. Naturally, he felt obliged to speak for his own kind and hoped the emperor would pay more attention to the scholar-officials.
Wen Yanran nodded slightly.
Yuan Yanshi was a loyal minister whose nature had been revealed to her in advance, so he would certainly not deceive her on such fundamental matters. Moreover, his response aligned with the prevailing understanding of the era.
Thanks to the collective efforts of several generations of incompetent rulers, the reputation of the Great Zhou imperial house among the common people had hit a low point. However, most scholar-officials remained loyal to the court, as the vast majority of officials serving in the court were born into influential families. These families controlled educational resources and career advancement opportunities, enjoyed widespread respect, and thus had little desire to overthrow the existing dynasty.
Setting aside moral and emotional factors, those who benefited more under this regime were more inclined to support it.
Wen Yanran pondered further. If she were to rank families other than the imperial clan by influence, from highest to lowest, they would likely be the powerful aristocratic clans, the established scholar-official families, and then the local magnates.
In Wen Yanran’s not-yet-deep understanding, the aristocratic clans represented the ultimate form of influential families. As for the local magnates, during the dynasty’s founding era, they might have had the potential to develop further into scholar-official families. However, now that the Great Zhou’s vitality was waning and social stratification had become severe, while many lower-ranking officials still came from magnate backgrounds, upper-level officials were almost exclusively from established families. Yet, possibly constrained by the current level of societal development, the number of powerful aristocratic clans in the Great Zhou was very small, and the central court still maintained a certain degree of influence over local regions.
Wen Yanran thought that these were likely the people least inclined toward a dynastic change.
She recalled a line she had once come across while reading: “Governing is not difficult -simply avoid offending the great houses.” Initially, Wen Yanran had viewed this as prudent, cautious advice. However, inspired by Yuan Yanshi’s guidance today, she felt it might be a subtle way of informing rulers where their authority truly stemmed from.
Wen Yanran felt somewhat relieved that she had acted with caution and taken the opportunity to ask her loyal minister a few extra questions. Otherwise, she might have nearly misunderstood who her true allies were.
As a typical student with skewed strengths, Wen Yanran’s knowledge of history was rather limited. She only vaguely recalled reading some online analyses about policies and social structures – sometimes seemingly correct reforms could lead to severe negative consequences. For instance, King Zhou of Shang, because of his reforms to the slave system, was seen as betraying the aristocratic class, ultimately leading to his defeat in the struggle for power and earning him the notorious title of a tyrant.
Combined with the answer she had drawn from Yuan Yanshi, Wen Yanran could roughly conclude that the so-called “sons of fortune” were likely concentrated among the three ruling classes: the powerful aristocratic clans, the established scholar-official families, and the local magnates. To successfully become a tyrant who made everyone feel that “the world is beyond saving,” she would have to strike hard at these potential allies.
Yuan Yanshi watched the Emperor lost in thought, and the unease in his heart grew stronger…
