What kind of person was Hu Shanwei? A three-reign Palace Director who had witnessed and participated in countless bloody storms in the Great Ming court.

As Palace Director, her duty was to stabilize the inner palace. Therefore, taking sides or participating in succession struggles was impossible – those who engaged in palace intrigue and succession fights were Hu Shanwei’s primary targets.

Having served three terms, Hu Shanwei observed that on the surface, the Great Ming court’s turbulence seemed to stem from Prince Han constantly causing trouble while the Crown Prince was always passively taking beatings.

But that wasn’t actually the case.

Hu Shanwei understood that the Crown Prince’s position was actually quite stable, while Prince Han, beloved by military generals, was absolutely impossible.

The reason was simple: the crippled Crown Prince could only maintain his heir apparent position with Emperor Yongle’s support. The Crown Prince needed to get his meals from Emperor Yongle’s pot to avoid starving.

But if Prince Han became crown prince, he could set up his own kitchen and smash Emperor Yongle’s pot in seconds.

Since the Hongwu reign, guided by Empress Xiaoci’s wisdom, she began understanding the Great Ming court – everything followed patterns. Palace struggles were ultimately about competing interests.

The Great Ming court’s main contradiction was the power struggle between ruler and heir apparent. They guarded against each other, yet couldn’t do without one another.

Emperor Yongle needed someone to govern as regent during his campaign, and the Crown Prince needn’t be mentioned – “My father abuses me a thousand times, yet I treat my father as… cough cough he’s still my biological father, must serve him carefully.”

Emperor Yongle used Prince Han as a chess piece to restrain the Crown Prince, pushing the Crown Prince to desperation. Hu Shanwei dared not imagine what would happen if the Crown Prince couldn’t withstand the pressure – two possibilities emerged.

First: the Crown Prince’s confidence and emotions would completely collapse. He’d voluntarily step down to become a leisurely prince – or simply die suddenly from excessive pressure.

Then Emperor Yongle would need to choose a new heir – who? High Ancestor Emperor from the Hongwu reign had already given the answer: definitely not the militarily powerful Prince Han. The succession would fall to the weak, pitiful, helpless Imperial Grandson Zhu Zhanji.

Thus, the Great Ming would see a second Jingnan Campaign, civil war would erupt again, and people would be displaced.

Second: the Crown Prince, unable to endure further, would take desperate risks and walk the path of no return toward forcing abdication.

Both possible outcomes meant the imperial family’s disintegration, turbulence, and rivers of blood. Neither Hu Shanwei nor Empress Renxiao in the afterlife wanted to see such results.

Therefore, Hu Shanwei’s intervention when the Crown Prince was most desperate wasn’t taking sides or favoring the Eastern Palace, but a decision made to protect the Great Ming court’s stability.

Moreover, only with the Great Ming court stable could Prince Han, this chess piece, survive. If the court fell into chaos, Prince Han might reach the underworld before the Crown Prince. Empress Renxiao’s dying wish to preserve both sons’ lives would be unfulfilled.

With such high perspective, Hu Shanwei saw farther. She didn’t simply treat the Crown Prince as teammate and Prince Han as enemy – her stance remained neutral.

Hu Shanwei’s “dead pig fears no boiling water” strategy for the Crown Prince would not only stabilize the Eastern Palace but also help the ambitious, stubborn Prince Han finally awaken. Having splashed so much dirty water on Crown Prince Brother, yet seeing the Emperor refuse to depose the Crown Prince, he’d understand he was merely a chess piece with no chance at succession.

Only by seeing the truth clearly would Prince Han let go. No matter what anyone said now, this troublesome child wouldn’t listen.

The Crown Prince was modest, amiable, and open to advice, without “women’s narrow views” prejudice. He listened to his mother, his two wives, and Hu Shanwei, this three-reign Palace Director, and acted accordingly.

Counting the days, Empress Renxiao’s twenty-seven-month mourning period had passed – he could begin spreading favor and relaxing.

The first night after mourning naturally belonged to the Crown Princess. Just as the couple blew out their lamps, a wet nurse reported outside that the youngest young master was running a fever. Crown Princess Zhang, having borne three legitimate sons, didn’t mind the Crown Prince’s overnight favor, so she got up to check on the child, saying: “Call Lady Guo over.”

Without consulting the Crown Prince’s opinion, the Crown Princess made arrangements – presumably the Crown Prince wouldn’t object either.

The Eastern Palace now had six boys: the Crown Princess had borne three, concubine Lady Li also three, while Lady Guo remained childless. Now with her younger brother Guo Xuan following the imperial campaign as a member of Zhu Zhanji’s guard unit, the Crown Princess felt it was time for Lady Guo to work hard and bear a son or daughter.

The Crown Prince was a nearly three-hundred-pound fat man, also lame and inconvenient to move. Lady Guo, a general’s daughter and tigress, since the Crown Princess sincerely invited her, didn’t stand on ceremony – she vigorously demanded the Crown Prince three times, claiming all the first night’s favor for herself.

The next day at morning court, the Crown Prince could barely get out of bed, still carried into the hall on a sedan chair.

During morning court, the sleep-deprived Crown Prince frequently dozed off, like a fat penguin swaying on the throne.

When handling government affairs, the Crown Prince forced himself to stay alert. Unable to endure by midday, he took a nap, sleeping until dusk.

Prince Han recorded all this in his little notebook for tattling to Father Emperor:

“The Crown Prince’s health is poor, yet he doesn’t know self-care, favoring two women in one night.”

“The Crown Prince has gotten arrogant, sleeping during the day.”

“The Crown Prince disrespects ministers, humiliates important officials, and yawns in their faces during discussions.”

Just then, Earl Pingjiang’s mansion completed its garden prepared for the Crown Princess’s family visit. The Crown Prince’s touring interest was greatly aroused, and he left the palace to first explore his wife’s family visit villa.

Earl Pingjiang’s two younger brothers-in-law nervously welcomed their precious brother-in-law, leaving all the villa’s plaques blank, waiting for the Crown Prince’s personal imperial calligraphy.

Needless to mention the procession’s grandeur – the Crown Prince invited numerous capital literati to gather at the family visit villa, holding literary meetings and Great Ming poetry competitions. He commented on the spot, ranked participants, awarded prizes, and even granted official positions on the spot. The scene was quite lively.

Prince Han became so excited his tattling hands began trembling:

“The Crown Prince wastes people’s wealth and labor, casually leaving the palace.”

“The Crown Prince uses poetry and literary gatherings to form factions for personal gain.”

“The Crown Prince practices nepotism, arbitrarily granting official positions.”

And so forth. Little reports flew north like snowflakes. Emperor Yongle, upon reading them, wrote letters severely scolding the Crown Prince for being absurd, having chaotic private life, lacking restraint, not caring for his body, indulging in beauty, and so on.

Seeing Emperor Yongle criticize his private life, the Crown Prince actually felt relieved. Compared to last time’s highlighted, calm suggestion that he “though they may have small faults, don’t humiliate them, nor listen partially to form preferences,” which terrified him and greatly increased pressure, this hearty scolding actually made him feel safer.

The Crown Prince knowingly violated rules. That night he embraced two beauties to bed – he had originally planned to summon Lady Guo, but she refused, saying her monthly cycle hadn’t come and she was probably pregnant.

The Crown Prince’s health was poor, but his fertility was amazing. Prince Han and Prince Zhao’s children combined could only match the Eastern Palace.

With the Eastern Palace expecting new life, the Crown Prince’s mood gradually improved. An undisciplined private life would at most earn Father Emperor’s scolding, but wouldn’t make him suspect interference with imperial power. Between two evils, choose the lesser – let him scold. Being scolded wouldn’t reduce his flesh.

The inner palace had Tongshi female officials; the Eastern Palace also had female officials recording concubines’ menstrual cycles and the Crown Prince’s sex life to ensure imperial bloodline purity.

Looking at the Eastern Palace’s densely recorded little notebook, the female physician reported: “This minister just took Lady Guo’s pulse – it’s a pregnancy pulse, though the months are shallow and not very obvious.”

The Crown Princess rejoiced, happier than if she were pregnant herself – Lady Guo became pregnant just days after sharing the Crown Prince’s bed. This showed that except for both feet’s lesions and walking difficulties, the Crown Prince’s other bodily functions were still good.

The Crown Princess went to Noble Consort Zhang’s Yanxi Palace to pay respects. Noble Consort Zhang was the inner palace’s master, but as a stepmother, she couldn’t interfere with the Crown Prince’s chambers. However, with the Eastern Palace adding members, Noble Consort Zhang couldn’t be the last to know.

Hearing this, Noble Consort Zhang said: “This is good news, but Lady Guo’s months are shallow – not suitable for announcement. Wait until after four months when the fetus is stable, and His Majesty will surely reward her.”

The Crown Princess agreed. Noble Consort Zhang and the Crown Princess always maintained this lukewarm relationship – discussing business when necessary, otherwise living their separate lives. Noble Consort Zhang’s brother, Duke Yingguo Zhang Fu, was a major figure in Prince Han’s faction who had once memorialized to “depose the Crown Prince.” But the Crown Princess had once helped Noble Consort Zhang out of difficulties, suppressing the two younger sisters-in-law Princess Yongping and Princess Ancheng.

The two had to avoid suspicion and couldn’t grow close.

Hu Shanwei, listening nearby to the Eastern Palace’s good news, knew the Crown Prince had taken her words to heart and was acting accordingly.

Prince Han, this troublesome child, must be delighted right now, writing little reports until his hands went soft.

Actually, in the end, each little report was an arrow stuck in Prince Han’s own body.

Hu Shanwei somewhat pitied Prince Han, who knew nothing of this.

With Emperor Yongle campaigning away from home, the inner palace had at least half fewer matters. With daylight still remaining and Hu Shanwei already having nothing to do, Noble Consort Zhang considerately said: “If there’s nothing else, Palace Director Hu may go home early.”

Like former Noble Consort Duanjing Lady Guo, Noble Consort Zhang under Hu Shanwei’s tutelage had evolved from bronze to king level, and both were enfeoffed as noble consorts, equivalent to vice-empresses.

Noble Consort Zhang previously picked at Hu Shanwei’s words for trouble to establish authority. Now they cooperated tacitly. Noble Consort Zhang’s attitude toward Hu Shanwei completely changed, knowing she worried about sister A’Lei and often letting her leave early to accompany her sister at home.

However, Hu Shanwei was very conscious. She knew that female officials living outside the palace was already exceptional – she couldn’t be greedy and demand too much.

Hu Shanwei said: “This minister will walk and patrol the palace, leaving at dusk won’t be too late.”

With Emperor Yongle campaigning away, the palace needed stability. Hu Shanwei would conduct irregular spot checks to prevent incidents.

After Hu Shanwei left, Noble Consort Zhang wrote a secret memorial informing Emperor Yongle of Lady Guo’s pregnancy and the imperial family gaining a grandchild.

Halfway through writing, Noble Consort Zhang became restless. She put down her brush, looked down at her flat abdomen, and sighed softly.

Both from capital noble families, both inner palace concubines handling things with ease, Lady Guo was several years older than herself, yet the Crown Prince still favored her greatly. Now pregnant, her position would be even more secure.

My maternal family, Duke Yingguo, holds a ducal title one rank higher than Lady Guo’s family. My elder brother is the powerful Duke Yingguo, while Lady Guo is still fighting for her brother Guo Xuan’s Marquis Wuding title.

In terms of birth, I surpass Lady Guo in everything, but I… when will I have my own child? Even bearing a princess would be good.

His Majesty isn’t lustful – going north to campaign, he brought no women.

I’m guarding the inner palace well for His Majesty. When he returns victorious from campaign and remembers my merits, will he give me a child?

Noble Consort Zhang touched her abdomen, suddenly hopeful, her gaze growing tender.

Meanwhile, Hu Shanwei walked and stopped throughout the palace, conducting inspections without attendants, wearing only ordinary female official attire.

His Majesty had been campaigning for nearly half a year. Before leaving, he promoted Noble Consort Zhang to Noble Consort. To repay imperial grace, Noble Consort Zhang became even more diligent and capable. No matter that the outer court’s first confidential secretary Xie Jin was demoted, the Crown Prince scolded, or how tense the atmosphere, Noble Consort Zhang managed a palace that remained calm with no troublemakers.

Hu Shanwei checked her Western pocket watch – another item Zheng He brought back from western voyages. Zheng He was preparing for his third western voyage to travel even farther. A’Lei had become Zheng He’s little follower, helping organize and copy navigation logs and sea charts. Zheng He gave A’Lei many fine Western items quite valuable in the Great Ming. A’Lei’s wealth exceeded Hu Shanwei’s salary – looking like a young person working early to earn money and support the family.

Time was getting late – she needed to leave the palace before the gates closed.

Hu Shanwei walked toward the West Peace Gate. Passing Yongxiang, she heard clear, bright reading voices.

These were young eunuchs from the Directorate of Ceremonial’s Inner Academy reading – mostly under twelve years old, clever young eunuchs. Moreover, their teachers were all Hanlin Academy scholars, genuine jinshi degree holders from imperial examinations.

Truly, living long enough, one would see all kinds of incredible reversals.

During the Hongwu reign, High Ancestor Emperor deeply hated eunuch interference in politics. Taking previous dynasty eunuch disasters as lessons, he forbade castrated men from reading and writing. Anyone secretly literate would be executed.

By the Yongle reign – this seventh year of Yongle – with His Majesty campaigning and the Crown Prince governing as regent, except for military and state affairs, important official appointments, and diplomatic matters, all other business was handled by the Crown Prince.

But the Crown Prince was just working for Emperor Yongle. How could Emperor Yongle remotely control the Crown Prince, maintaining grasp of state affairs even from the north, ensuring civil officials wouldn’t collude with the Crown Prince to sideline him?

Thus, Emperor Yongle activated a force to help supervise the Crown Prince’s regency – the Directorate of Ceremonial composed of eunuchs.

Eunuchs were people absolutely dependent on imperial power. They had no roots, lives like duckweed, unlike civil and military officials with clan, hometown, school, party, military, or marriage connections. They relied solely on imperial favor.

The Directorate of Ceremonial’s seal-holding eunuch was Zheng He, a eunuch Emperor Yongle had trusted and appreciated since his Prince Yan mansion days.

Emperor Yongle had the Directorate of Ceremonial supervise the Crown Prince’s regency. All memorials sent to the Crown Prince required Eastern Palace Chancellery registrars to record them, while Assistant Spring Office Direct Officers, Discipline Officers, and Remonstrance Officers divided into Six Boards to create duplicates at the Directorate of Ceremonial – backing up daily departmental reports and Eastern Palace decisions, sending copies to Emperor Yongle.

Thus, Emperor Yongle knew the Crown Prince’s regency actions in complete detail.

But daily Eastern Palace memorials piled like mountains, requiring massive copying and organizing work from educated eunuchs familiar with various administrative documents.

However, the Hongwu reign strictly forbade eunuchs from private literacy, the Jianwen reign continued this “tradition,” and the Directorate of Ceremonial lacked talent. Where could they find so many literate eunuchs for copying work?

Emperor Yongle waved grandly: “No talent? Then train talent! Your Directorate of Ceremonial select clever young eunuchs from the palace. I’ll send Hanlin Academy scholars to educate them in reading and writing. Quick training for rapid competence in copying documents.”

The Directorate of Ceremonial opened schools in the inner palace, called Inner Academy, enrolling the first batch with some reading foundation.

Given time constraints, Hanlin scholars gave Inner Academy young eunuchs devil training – the Ming Dynasty version of Hengshui High School mode.

Before dawn daily, young eunuchs arose, came to Inner Academy, first bowed to Confucius tablets, then stood waiting for Hanlin instructors.

When Hanlin scholars entered, all young eunuchs bowed in the hall, then roll call and attendance. To prevent distraction, they stood throughout lessons, “hands folded, standing respectfully.”

Then holding books, they began recitation – only after finishing could they practice calligraphy in classrooms. Those who couldn’t finish kept standing and reciting.

Only then did Hanlin scholars lecture. Courses emphasized practicality. The Directorate of Ceremonial specially printed books for Inner Academy young eunuchs, including “Hongwu Standard Pronunciation” teaching official language and correct pronunciation, “Complete Book of Poetry,” “Complete Book of Documents,” “Complete Spring and Autumn Annals,” “Collected Annotations on Four Books,” “Zhenguan Political Essentials,” and hundreds of other texts.

After Inner Academy graduation, their knowledge breadth exceeded xiucai degree holders, not to mention having famous Hanlin jinshi teachers.

Daily course completion had ceremonial dismissal. Each student leaving the academy had to line up outside, taking turns writing poetry. Hanlin teachers required each student to compose on-the-spot poetry “following seasons with rhyme and rhythm.”

Those who couldn’t “would be beaten and humiliated by the group.” Students formed several rows, each row composing poetry as instructors required. Those who couldn’t would be beaten and humiliated by their entire row!

The Directorate of Ceremonial provided the best, most complete materials and finest teachers – the Great Ming’s top instructors. If you still couldn’t learn well, expect beatings, scolding, even expulsion.

This devil education mode made even the notoriously strict Hengshui High School of later times pale in comparison.

“Reading changes destiny” was a universal truth throughout history. The future Great Ming’s most powerful eunuch institution, the Directorate of Ceremonial, required Inner Academy graduation credentials for all personnel.

When Hu Shanwei passed Yongxiang, she encountered Inner Academy young eunuchs’ dismissal poetry formation.