For Princess Huaiqing’s selection of a prince consort, all the meritorious noble families in the capital who had eligible unmarried young men of appropriate age went to register at the Inner Palace Bureau. Not only the family of Marquis Xiping Mu Ying, but Duke Weiguo Xu Da also registered his youngest son Xu Zengshou’s name.
Unless Emperor Hongwu had lost his mind completely, he would never choose Xu Zengshou, the capital’s number one wastrel, as prince consort.
Hu Shanwei immediately understood that registering or not was actually a matter of attitude. When the Emperor issued an edict to select a prince consort, his subjects—especially the meritorious noble families who had gained wealth and honor through their achievements in following the dragon—had to create momentum showing that the Emperor’s daughter had no shortage of suitors and that everyone was eagerly “competing” for her hand, giving the imperial family full face.
Otherwise, if you hid away your unmarried men of appropriate age and didn’t register them at the Inner Palace Bureau, what did that mean? Did you look down on the princess? Did you want to ascend to heaven?
None of them wanted to ascend to heaven.
Consequently, during the twelfth lunar month, families going to the Inner Palace Bureau to register nearly trampled down the threshold—it was quite lively.
From preliminary selection to finalizing the prince consort could take anywhere from a few months to over a year. The Ministry of Rites and the Imperial Clan Court would conduct initial screening and review the lists. During the selection period, all registered men were forbidden from making other marriage arrangements.
The twelfth lunar month was the busiest time of year, with various festivals and sacrificial ceremonies. On the eighth day of the twelfth month, the Emperor bestowed Laba porridge—all officials of fourth rank and above in the capital received this gift.
After the Kitchen God sacrifice on the twenty-fourth day of the twelfth month, palace attendants all changed their official robe insignia to gourd patterns or python robes to match the festivities.
Endless rewards, new clothes, and jewelry were delivered to quarters. When Hu Shanwei had entered the palace, she came empty-handed without even a pair of shoes. In less than a year, the clothing chests and cabinets in her room were already full.
What the great Ming court lacked least was ceremonial grandeur. It was precisely these elaborate and particular ceremonies that distinguished the imperial family from other families. Behind every ceremony was the clanking support of silver. The court encompassed the empire’s entire wealth, sparing no expense in luxury—no wonder everyone wanted to be emperor.
Then came New Year’s Eve.
On New Year’s Eve of the thirteenth year of Hongwu, the palace held an imperial family banquet. Only Prince Yan and his consort were absent. Why?
Because the Prince of Yan’s consort had gone into labor and was at the Prince of Yan’s mansion awaiting delivery of her fourth child. Prince Yan was at home accompanying his consort.
During the New Year’s Eve banquet, good news arrived from the Prince of Yan’s mansion—the consort had given birth to a young prince.
The Emperor and Empress were overjoyed and bestowed generous rewards on the Prince of Yan’s mansion.
The eighteen-year-old Princess of Yan had become the mother of four children, making her the most fertile princess consort in the great Ming imperial family.
Emperor Hongwu immediately bestowed a name, saying, “This grandson really knows how to pick his birth date. Today is New Year’s Eve, the arrival of new spring, casting off the old and welcoming the new, as the weather gradually warms. Let’s call him Zhu Gaoxu.”
Empress Ma was very pleased: “Now the Prince of Yan’s mansion has two sons and two daughters, forming two ‘good’ characters. Duke Weiguo has raised a fine daughter. You all should quickly take gifts and go to Duke Weiguo’s mansion to offer congratulations.”
All the imperial family raised their cups in celebration. The newly enfeoffed Princess Huaiqing smiled radiantly and summoned Shen Qionglian. “Double joy on New Year’s Eve—does Instructor Shen have a good poem?”
Shen Qionglian had entered the palace with top examination honors. Besides serving as a female instructor, composing palace poetry for joyous occasions and serving as court poet was also her responsibility.
Shen Qionglian asked back like a little adult: “Does the princess have good wine?”
Princess Huaiqing laughed: “Of course I do. I’ll bestow a jar on you.”
Noble Consort Sun patted her young daughter’s hand. “Instructor Shen is still a child and cannot drink wine. Don’t tease her.”
Shen Qionglian said: “Your Majesty Noble Consort, this humble servant will turn fourteen next spring in the third month.”
Seeing her childish manner while speaking such mature words, everyone laughed.
Shen Qionglian pouted, looking about to become unhappy—she least liked people treating her as a child.
Noble Consort Sun beckoned to her: “Come here, sit beside me.”
Princess Huaiqing sat on Noble Consort Sun’s left, and Shen Qionglian took the seat on her right—essentially sitting as equals.
Noble Consort Sun said to the attending palace servants: “Pour Instructor Shen a cup of my yinkou lao.”
Yinkou lao meant easily palatable fine wine. Noble Consort Sun wasn’t good at drinking, so Empress Ma had ordered the Imperial Kitchen Bureau’s wine-making department to specially brew a type of wine for Noble Consort Sun that had no wine flavor and didn’t irritate the throat or stomach.
The wine department used several fruits to brew a sweet and sour yinkou lao exclusively for Noble Consort Sun—no one else could drink it.
After drinking a cup, Shen Qionglian indeed liked it. Her poetic inspiration flourished, and she waved her small hand: “Bring paper and brush.”
Princess Huaiqing found it amusing and personally spread paper for her.
Shen Qionglian took up the brush and wrote: “Sparse bright stars and dipper in the late night, jade beauty and flower faces among the female officials.”
As Shen Qionglian wrote each line, Princess Huaiqing read it aloud, pointing at the most beautiful Cui Shangyi and laughing: “No wonder Cui Shangyi favors her most—even in poetry she doesn’t forget to praise you first.”
When forty-four new female officials entered the palace, all six bureaus and one department competed for the female top scholar Shen Qionglian. Cui Shangyi was fortunate to win her in the lottery.
Shen Qionglian stopped writing after just two lines, her large eyes looking at Princess Huaiqing.
Princess Huaiqing was generous and personally poured wine for her: “Here’s your wine, now write.”
Shen Qionglian drained the cup in one gulp and wrote: “Wind carries phoenix song as heavenly music approaches, snow remains as magpies chirp in the cold morning tower.”
Princess Huaiqing poured two more times before Shen Qionglian wrote the remaining verses:
“The zhaoyi leads the imperial procession to the vermillion throne, the bedchamber attendant tends the purple sandalwood incense burner. Solemnly the six palaces display their emblems, spring wind before the palace imagines the calling phoenix.”
Shen Qionglian set down her brush. Princess Huaiqing presented the poem to the Emperor and Empress. This was a superior court ceremonial poem for the occasion, especially the line “Solemnly the six palaces display their emblems,” which subtly praised Empress Ma for taking virtuous consorts of the Song Dynasty as her model, governing the six palaces and purifying the imperial household.
Hu Shanwei knew she lacked the ability to compose such palace poetry and silently sighed that female officials in the palace each had their talents. Natural gift was something that couldn’t be obtained through effort alone.
The Emperor and Empress naturally praised it and generously rewarded Shen Qionglian. Empress Ma especially loved this palace poem and gave an additional reward: “Since Instructor Shen likes Noble Consort Sun’s yinkou lao, I bestow two jars on you.”
Princess Huaiqing pretended to be angry: “Mother Empress, I also contributed—spreading paper, pouring wine, and presenting the poem were all my doing. Why do I get no reward?”
During the great New Year celebration, coinciding with the Prince of Yan’s consort giving birth to a young prince on New Year’s Eve, the atmosphere was especially festive. Empress Ma also joined in the jest: “Aren’t we picking a good prince consort for you right now?”
Hearing this, Princess Huaiqing showed no coy affectation and laughed along with everyone: “Mother Empress, choose carefully. I’m not in a hurry. I still want to stay in the palace and accompany Mother Empress and Mother Consort a bit longer.”
Everyone laughed. The imperial family banquet was harmonious and joyful.
Shen Qionglian kowtowed in gratitude for the imperial grace and shared both jars of yinkou lao with her friendly female officials, keeping nothing for herself. Hu Shanwei also received a pot. She curiously poured a cup and drank it—sweet and sour, with no wine flavor, but… not as delicious as she had imagined.
From this, Hu Shanwei understood that what Noble Consort Sun and Shen Qionglian were drinking wasn’t really the yinkou lao, but that unique imperial favor.
The next day was New Year’s Day, the first day of the first month.
The great Ming court had three major festivals: the winter solstice, New Year’s Day, and the Emperor’s birthday Longevity Festival. All three required grand court celebration ceremonies. Besides officials of fifth rank and above in the capital who had to enter the palace for court celebrations, on the three major festivals, noble ladies of third rank and above also had to enter the palace to pay court respects to Empress Ma.
Due to the large number of noble ladies, the Court Bureau of Rites responsible for ceremonies had insufficient staff, so they drew personnel from the six bureaus and one department, selecting those with proper appearance and good health to guide the noble ladies’ entrances and exits—this was physical work, standing outside in the bitter cold of the first month maintaining order and directing the noble ladies’ movements. Those with weak constitutions could hardly endure it.
For instance, Shen Qionglian was a female instructor of the Court Bureau of Rites, but Cui Shangyi, feeling sorry for her still-growing and insufficient stature, didn’t assign her such tasks.
Cui Shangyi chose Hu Shanwei from the Palace Administration Bureau. Hu Shanwei readily agreed—helping others was helping oneself, as everyone had times when they needed to ask for help. Previously, when she was responsible for bestowing books, she had also drawn personnel from other departments. Cui Shangyi had sent Zhou Sizan, and Cao Shanggong had sent Liu Siyan—unfortunately, Liu Siyan had died in an accident.
For court ceremonies, the only standard was that no mistakes could be made—there was no room for accommodation. The noble ladies’ grand court celebration was precisely a moment to display imperial majesty and required utmost caution.
Of course, no noble lady would be so blind as to cause trouble at this moment—the fear was that the noble ladies might be too nervous and walk or bow incorrectly, disrupting protocol.
Cui Shangyi was very meticulous. She divided the list of several hundred noble ladies, with each female official watching thirty people. She also gathered the guiding female officials beforehand for a meeting, roughly drawing a floor plan of Kunning Palace on the ground.
Which area would be occupied by whom, where the female officials would stand, where the noble ladies would stand, when to enter, when to retreat, when to bow, when to kneel—everything was rehearsed in advance.
Those who could pass examinations to become palace female officials were all intelligent people who understood immediately.
Finally, Cui Shangyi bowed: “On New Year’s Day, the Court Bureau of Rites entrusts everyone’s help.”
Hu Shanwei and the others quickly replied: “Cui Shangyi is too polite. We subordinates will certainly provide full assistance.”
On New Year’s Day, people in the palace rose at the fifth watch. To welcome the seasonal celebration, all palace attendants not wearing black gauze caps inserted decorative pieces cut from black gold paper and painted with various colored insects and butterfly patterns into their hair—commonly called “noisy moths”—appropriate for the time and season.
Under the skillful hands of the palace Silver Workshop craftsmen, the noisy moths were made extremely lifelike, their wings seeming to flutter in the breeze, their antennae and wings vivid and realistic. The little palace maid serving Hu Shanwei wore noisy moths and carried hot water for washing, coming earliest to wish Hu Shanwei a happy new year.
The little palace maid stood outside the door holding a water bucket. Hearing the fifth watch strike on West Long Street, she immediately seized the moment, lit a string of firecrackers that crackled loudly.
Having gone to bed late on New Year’s Eve, Hu Shanwei, who was accustomed to early rising, was awakened by the firecracker sounds. She threw on clothes and opened the door: “It’s not even dawn yet. Why set off firecrackers so early?”
The little palace maid giggled: “It’s a palace rule—set off firecrackers at the fifth watch on New Year’s Day for a prosperous red-hot new year.”
The little palace maid helped Hu Shanwei dress and cut a strip of white cotton paper, folded it, then tucked it into the crossed collar opening. This paper protective collar was changed daily for convenience and cleanliness. Female officials represented the imperial family’s dignity and had extremely high requirements for appearance and cleanliness.
Initially, Hu Shanwei didn’t like the white cotton paper false collar, feeling it chafed her neck. Over time, she grew accustomed to it. In summer, when perspiring, several paper collars needed changing daily.
Today, guiding noble ladies to audience with the Empress, Hu Shanwei wore brand-new official robes and a black gauze cap. Just as she finished dressing, her disciple Huang Weide came to pay New Year’s respects.
Huang Weide removed the door bolt from the main gate and handed it to Hu Shanwei: “Throw it into the air three times—in the palace it’s called ‘dropping thousand gold.'”
Not expecting such a unique custom in the great Ming court, Hu Shanwei followed local customs. The door bolt was a wooden stick about the same length and thickness as Mu Chun’s arm, weighing about seven or eight catties—quite heavy for a female official who held brushes all year.
The first throw reached only slightly above head height.
The little palace maid clapped her hands: “Chief Hu, throw higher! The higher and farther you throw, the higher your official position will rise this year!”
Hearing about promotion, Hu Shanwei immediately became spirited. This wasn’t just casually following customs—she performed a series of boxing moves to loosen her muscles and bones, and the second throw was much better.
For the final throw, Hu Shanwei breathed warmth into her palms, picked up the door bolt from the ground, spun, leaped, and closed her eyes. The door bolt seemed to grow wings, soaring step by step into the blue clouds, whooshing skyward, finally landing on the glazed tiles of the roof!
Huang Weide praised: “Teacher threw magnificently! In my many years in the palace, I’ve never heard of anyone throwing so high.”
Hu Shanwei was also very excited, but after the excitement, she felt some worry: “How do we retrieve the door bolt from the roof? I must go to the Inner Palace Bureau immediately to await the noble ladies coming for audience with Her Majesty the Empress.”
Huang Weide said: “The storehouses have ladders. I’ll handle this matter—teacher should go attend to business.”