Yan Chengzhao was by nature proud and aloof, his expression cold as a winter mountain, with a permanent slight furrow to his brow and little inclination to smile — giving one the impression of a lone eagle perched on the edge of a sheer cliff.
Yet through their interactions over time, Pei Shaohuai had gradually come to see another side of him: someone who gave as good as he got and was capable of lighthearted exchanges. Today, moreover, Pei Shaohuai had caught from his words a faint trace of something warmer and more human.
He was no longer quite so thoroughly unapproachable.
Pei Shaohuai thought for a moment, then asked: “Commander Yan oversees both the Northern and Southern Offices — are you keeping up with the workload these days? Do you still spend all your time on duty inside the palace as before?”
Yan Chengzhao shook his head: “Whether inside the palace or outside it makes little difference to me.” He had a token that allowed him to move freely in and out of the imperial palace.
“Then I would suggest that Commander Yan spend more of your duty time outside the palace, and set aside some of that time to accompany the Heir Apparent Consort.”
“Would my being there reduce her vomiting?”
“It would not,” Pei Shaohuai said plainly. “Morning sickness during pregnancy is not the same as ordinary nausea — one cannot take medicine to suppress it. All one can do is attend to her with great care, so that she suffers a little less. If Commander Yan is by her side, shielding her from the demands of household protocol, she will naturally find things a little easier to bear.”
Though Pei Shaohuai and Yan Chengzhao were on reasonably good terms, they were not yet close confidants. For a personal and domestic matter like a wife’s morning sickness, had Yan Chengzhao had someone near and dear to turn to for guidance, he would never have had to ask Pei Shaohuai with reddened cheeks.
If one thought carefully about this, it was possible to piece together something of Yan Chengzhao’s circumstances in his early years.
Moreover, the Prince and Princess of the郡王 rank harbored resentment, and it was unlikely they would treat a newly arrived daughter-in-law with kindness — even one of distinguished standing and capable of holding her own. She would inevitably have to bear some hardship.
And so Pei Shaohuai believed that, compared to alleviating the vomiting, the more important thing was for Yan Chengzhao to be by her side as a constant presence.
Yan Chengzhao cupped his hands in acknowledgment, thought it over seriously, and replied: “Tonight I will bring her back to the County Princess’s manor.” Moving out of the Anping Prince’s Manor entirely — that was certainly direct. He added: “My thanks to Censor Pei for the reminder.”
“A small matter. Commander Yan is too kind.”
Pei Shaohuai thought to himself that Yan Chengzhao had been matched in marriage by imperial decree and had, by a stroke of good fortune, found a fine partner — it was indeed a pleasant tale.
Yan Chengzhao rolled up the copy of the Illustrated Exemplars of Female Virtue and tucked it at his waist. He said: “Once I have some leads, I will come find you at the Office of Scrutiny. At the earliest, one to two days; at the latest, no more than three to four.”
“Will this matter interfere with Commander Yan returning home to keep the Heir Apparent Consort company?” Pei Shaohuai asked.
Yan Chengzhao’s brow furrowed a touch more deeply, and he fired back at Pei Shaohuai: “It seems Censor Pei has not only misunderstood me, but also holds misconceptions about both the Northern and Southern Offices.” A single book of dubious content was all it was — he could naturally assign subordinates to look into it. Yan Chengzhao raised an eyebrow and added: “Perhaps some other day I should invite Censor Pei to come and sit awhile in the Southern Office, and see for himself whether we are all drawing our stipends for nothing.”
“That will not be necessary. Truly, not necessary at all.” Pei Shaohuai shook his head emphatically.
What upstanding official would ever want to set foot in the Southern Office of the Embroidered Uniform Guard? That was a place people walked into on their own two feet and were carried out flat on their backs.
……
With the matter of the Illustrated Exemplars of Female Virtue entrusted to Yan Chengzhao for investigation, Pei Shaohuai felt considerably more at ease. All he needed was to find out who was behind it, and then devise a response accordingly.
Over those two days, the court had become quite lively — all on account of the Minister of Revenue, who had been stripped of his post by the emperor for dereliction of duty and banished to Guizhou, barred from ever returning to the capital court.
The court’s “liveliness” was not a matter of officials mourning or seeing off the former minister — it was the great and minor factions alike eyeing the now-vacant minister’s seat with hungry ambition, each scrambling and scheming to push their own man into the position.
The Ministry of Revenue ranked second only to the Ministry of Personnel, and becoming its minister meant half a step into the Grand Secretariat.
As a Supervising Secretary, Pei Shaohuai held the right to nominate candidates for the emperor’s consideration and could recommend worthy individuals for the post of Minister of Revenue. After each court session, officials came in a steady stream to the Office of Scrutiny to find Pei Shaohuai, or sent calling cards to the Earl’s manor in private — their intentions were plain enough, and Pei Shaohuai received none of them.
In Pei Shaohuai’s view, the Ministry of Revenue was fundamental to the welfare of the people, and only someone who both held the people close to heart and was well-versed in financial and tax matters could be competent for the role. He had already settled on a candidate in his mind — the Right Censor-in-Chief who had once publicly rebuked Pei Shaohuai for pushing silver coins into overseas markets, and had then “switched sides” to speak in Pei Shaohuai’s defense.
Pei Shaohuai had carefully studied the memorials and remonstrations the Censor-in-Chief had submitted over the years, and through them had come to understand the man’s abilities and character.
It was Pei Shaohuai’s first time exercising the right of nomination, and he approached it with great thoroughness.
……
The rains of early summer came down in torrents, beating the wisteria vines into a scatter of petals across the ground.
In the central courtyard of the Office of Scrutiny, the green vines that had put out new growth in spring had not yet had time to curl themselves firmly around the bamboo poles and wall crevices before this hastily arrived downpour washed them down from the walls.
Pei Shaohuai sat at the writing desk in his duty office, carefully reading through documents sent by the Office of Transmission, acquainting himself with affairs across Da Qing.
He heard the sound of quick footsteps, and barely had a moment to look up before Yan Chengzhao had already walked in — without knocking — and immediately shut the door behind him.
Yan Chengzhao’s expression was grave yet composed.
If it had been merely a matter of identifying who wrote the expanded Illustrated Exemplars of Female Virtue, that alone should not have warranted such an expression from Yan Chengzhao.
Pei Shaohuai felt a chill in his heart, and thought: either the trail had led to something else entirely, or the person behind the writing was someone of unusual standing.
“Let us speak inside,” Pei Shaohuai said, rising to his feet.
He led Yan Chengzhao into the inner room of the duty office. The space was stacked with old documents. Faint light filtered through thick paper-covered windows, giving the room a somewhat stuffy quality. Pei Shaohuai asked: “What you have found — does it implicate a great many people?”
Yan Chengzhao nodded. Rather than naming the author of the Illustrated Exemplars of Female Virtue, he produced a wooden printing block — the characters carved into it, but not yet inked or used for printing.
Yan Chengzhao handed the block to Pei Shaohuai and said: “Following the trail of the Illustrated Exemplars of Female Virtue, we traced it to a print shop. In its storage room, thousands of copies of books like this were stacked — and we also found this printing block.”
Pei Shaohuai took the block. The characters on it were carved in reverse, making it somewhat difficult to read at first. But when Pei Shaohuai finished the very first sentence, his expression changed drastically. It was as though, in that single instant, every assumption he had made before was overturned. No matter how cautious he had been, he had still underestimated the means and capabilities of factional struggle.
The Illustrated Exemplars of Female Virtue was merely the opening move. The printing block was the true objective.
No one was a fool — the trap they had laid was one ring within another.
The text on the block took the form of a dialogue between two people, written in plain and accessible language. One was named “Zhou Chucheng,” the other “Shen Yi.”
“Zhou Chucheng” said: “Before the Emperor passed away, he issued a decree to elevate Imperial Noble Consort Zhou to the rank of Empress — the imperial edict is hidden above the beams of a Buddhist temple…”
The “Emperor” referred to here was clearly not the reigning Son of Heaven, but the previous emperor.
The other character, “Shen Yi,” replied by first heaping praise upon the Noble Consort, saying: “Imperial Noble Consort Zhou is virtuous and kind, her fine reputation widespread. Now that the Empress has passed, it is only right to heed the people’s will and elevate her to Empress, so that she may govern the inner palace — only then will Da Qing know peace.”
On the surface, the text was about conferring the title of Empress. In reality, it was a fabrication meant to suggest that the reigning Son of Heaven’s position as crown prince lacked legitimacy and violated ancestral precedent. For if Imperial Noble Consort Zhou had truly been elevated to Empress, then the Prince of Chu, Yan Song, would be a son born of the principal consort — and under Da Qing’s ancestral conventions, which prioritized legitimate birth over birth order, he should have been established as Crown Prince, not the eldest imperial son born of a concubine, Yan Zhe.
Pei Shaohuai felt deeply uneasy, and asked: “This has not yet been circulated, has it?” If this seditious text were to spread, regardless of whether the “imperial edict” was genuine or fabricated, it would inevitably cause no small amount of turmoil at court and unsettle Da Qing’s stability.
“The investigation is still ongoing,” Yan Chengzhao replied, and then speculated: “It was likely only just beginning to be planned — the timing was not yet right.”
The struggle over the heir apparent — this matter had to be traced back to the origins of the emperor Yan Zhe’s birth. During the reign of the previous emperor, the Empress had given birth to the eldest princess, but thereafter produced no more children and had no legitimate son in her name.
Yan Zhe’s birth mother had originally been a lady-in-waiting in the Empress’s palace. One day, during a grand palace banquet, she was by chance selected and favored by the previous emperor. Ten months later she gave birth to Yan Zhe. The previous emperor felt he had been manipulated by the Empress, and harbored resentment toward her from the start. Added to this, the lady-in-waiting’s status was extremely humble, and so the previous emperor had never taken to this eldest imperial son from the very beginning.
In other words, Yan Zhe was of concubine birth.
The third imperial son, Yan Song, borne by Imperial Noble Consort Zhou, was also of concubine birth. With the Empress having no sons, the establishment of a crown prince should have followed the principle of “seniority of birth order,” making Yan Zhe the rightful crown prince.
At the time, the Empress’s health was fragile and her days numbered. The previous emperor kept delaying the naming of a crown prince — waiting for the Empress to pass away so he could elevate Imperial Noble Consort Zhou to Empress and then name Yan Song as crown prince, which would satisfy ancestral precedent.
The previous emperor’s intention was an open secret, known to all but spoken of by none.
Led by the Hexi Faction, more than half of the remonstrating officials at court repeatedly submitted memorials urging the previous emperor to name an heir without delay, in order to stabilize the realm. The Empress, too, held on tenaciously, until at last Yan Zhe was established as Crown Prince — and only then, several years later, did she let go and pass away.
Yan Zhe had been on the throne for nearly twenty years now. These old affairs had gradually been buried under the passage of time, rarely heard of by those who had come after. And with an enlightened ruler on the throne and Da Qing at its strongest, no one dared to raise again the matter of the emperor’s concubine birth.
Yet now, someone had deliberately dug up these long-buried old affairs and embellished them further, claiming that Imperial Noble Consort Zhou had been proclaimed Empress. Their intentions were despicable.
Yan Chengzhao said: “This matter implicates too much. I must report it to His Majesty — I came first to let Censor Pei know, so you would not be caught unawares.”
Pei Shaohuai nodded with understanding. Something of this magnitude could not possibly be managed by the two of them alone. He replied: “I thank Commander Yan for the warning.”
What the emperor feared was not the Prince of Chu staging a rebellion — the Prince of Chu’s strength was nowhere near sufficient for that. What the emperor feared was the charge of “lacking legitimate claim and authority,” feared the ministers splitting into factions again and attacking one another, feared an unsettled public mood… A single stone casting a thousand ripples.
Pei Shaohuai asked again: “Who wrote the last twelve chapters of the Illustrated Exemplars of Female Virtue?”
“The Hexi Faction.”
Exactly as Pei Shaohuai had anticipated.
Yan Chengzhao cupped his hands, gathered up the printing block, and departed swiftly in the direction of the Qianqing Palace.
Pei Shaohuai sat quietly by the window at his desk. Only after half an hour had passed in stillness did he finally piece together the threads of the entire matter —
The Illustrated Exemplars of Female Virtue appeared to be a minor disturbance, but it was in truth designed to revive Imperial Noble Consort Zhou’s reputation, preparing the ground for the later printing and circulation of the seditious text.
The name “Zhou Chucheng” could be read to mean “Imperial Noble Consort Zhou’s Prince of Chu will succeed and ascend the throne”; “Shen Yi” suggested “Elder Statesman Shen will change allegiances, to be elevated as Chief Minister.” Each character concealed a lethal ambition.
Once the seditious text was printed and scattered across the realm, the court would inevitably erupt again in dispute over those old events. The emperor had relied on the Hexi Faction in his early years, and to establish his “legitimate claim” even now he continued to depend on the Hexi Faction. Over all these years, the Hexi Faction had remained the largest single bloc at court.
Printing the seditious text was not a genuine attempt to help the Prince of Chu stage a rebellion — it was a scheme to sow chaos at court and use that chaos as leverage, forcing the emperor to continue relying heavily on the Hexi Faction.
If the Hexi Faction’s scheme succeeded, the opening of the seas would fail, and the post of Minister of Revenue would fall into the Hexi Faction’s hands as well.
Senior Official Xu would be accused of flattering Imperial Noble Consort Zhou; Elder Statesman Shen would be accused, by virtue of the name “Shen Yi,” of colluding with the Prince of Chu… The Hexi Faction could use the opportunity to relentlessly suppress officials whose political views differed from their own.
This single scheme could strike down many targets at once.
What had yet to unfold — it was unclear how the emperor would handle it.
Although this affair had originated with the Hexi Faction, it remained to be determined whether Lou Yuxing had been the one to mastermind and lead the plot.