Seven days later, on the eighth day of the fourth month, was the Crown Princess’s birthday.

The emperor made an exception and held a banquet for all the ministers in the main hall of Chengqian Palace.

Before the banquet was a gift presentation ceremony. However, with time being short, most of the gifts the ministers presented were conventional. But Tie Ci had always been a cultured heir apparent, maintaining the same proper smile for every gift, making it impossible to tell whether she liked or disliked them.

Palace banquets were originally only for officials of third rank and above, but this time at the Crown Princess’s request, the emperor issued a special decree. To show the meaning of celebrating with the court, all officials with substantive positions in the capital could attend the banquet.

With this decree issued, some families rejoiced while others worried.

Those who rejoiced were some officials with small positions but thick family fortunes, having an opportunity to show their faces before the emperor.

Those who worried were the Hanlin Academy, Imperial Academy, Censorate and other departments with meager pay. With low salaries and thin family assets, some could barely maintain their dignity—where would they find gifts suitable for presenting to the heir apparent?

Fang Nayan was such a poor registrar from the Censorate. When he received notice that he could attend the palace banquet, instead of joy he felt worry. Born to a poor family, with an elderly mother and a bunch of brothers and sisters to support, where would he find extra money to present gifts to the Crown Princess?

After much consideration, he could only hand-copy a Buddhist scripture. His elderly mother was skilled at embroidery, working by lamplight through the night to embroider it. Having no good box to put it in, and with his deceased father having been a carpenter, he had also worked in carpentry for several years to make a living, so he picked up his old skills again, found a decent piece of boxwood, and personally carved a box.

Climbing the thousand jade steps of Chengqian Palace, waiting in the side hall to be received, Fang Nayan tightly clutched his box. With a glance at his colleagues beside him, his eyes were immediately blinded.

Various exquisitely carved boxes of sandalwood, red sandalwood, huanghuali, wenge, red rosewood… inlaid with colorful gems, making his box appear extremely shabby by comparison.

Not to mention that with such precious boxes, the contents inside were naturally even more valuable.

Fang Nayan hugged his box tighter to his chest.

Unfortunately, a censorate inspector beside him who had never gotten along well with him leaned over and smiled: “Old Fang, what good thing are you planning to present, hiding it so secretively from everyone?”

Fang Nayan didn’t respond.

He was taciturn by nature and hadn’t been transferred from a small local county to the Censorate for long. He wasn’t close with his colleagues and couldn’t become close with them.

Fang Nayan had originally been full of reverence and beautiful imagination for an institution like the Censorate. In his mind, speech officials controlled the nation’s legal constitution and governmental decrees, separately inspecting all officials, patrolling counties, supervising prisons, and maintaining court ceremonies. Every word and action concerned the world’s regulations and principles—they were mirrors for the emperor and officials to examine, the most sacred and noble occupation.

However, when he entered the Censorate he had revered, what he saw and heard greatly disappointed him.

When had speech officials who should stand upright, impartial, and advise the realm while being exemplars themselves become mouthpieces and pawns for certain people and families?

Waving flags and cheering for them, charging into battle for them, becoming sharp blades in their hands, targeting imaginary enemies for their private desires?

He couldn’t stand it, but he was merely a registrar of seventh rank, lower grade, only managing clerical documents daily—court debates weren’t his turn. When he first arrived, people had subtly tried to win him over, but his slow reactions made them gradually lose interest.

His little clique didn’t include him in their games, but Fang Nayan didn’t mind. Rather than forming groups like them to be driven by others, he preferred to stay in his small office working with his head down.

Because he was always buried in paperwork, he wasn’t very clear about many current stories regarding the Crown Princess.

He had no intention of participating in the opposition between the Censorate and the imperial family. After all, having stayed in the Censorate for a long time, he’d heard too much about how the current emperor was just a puppet and the heir apparent was a woman—such an Iron family imperial house, even if he raised his voice for them, they might not even hear it, so why meddle?

But he hadn’t expected that not following the crowd itself meant rejection. In the eyes of those who liked forming factions, that made him an enemy.

Seeing him not speak, the censorate inspector smiled more maliciously, reached out and lifted the cloth covering his box, then let out a strange laugh.

“Ha! What is this thing!”

This exclamation drew everyone’s attention, with various expressions—some smiling, some shaking heads, some directly laughing mockingly.

Someone said meaningfully: “Censor Fang’s gift… is truly unique.”

Fang Nayan found himself at the center of the crowd, hearing those voices, his face burning as if on fire, wishing he could turn around and flee from the hall.

But he couldn’t flee—the ministers were entering group by group, and his turn was coming soon.

He waited outside the hall, seeing Teacher He inside unrolling a piece of calligraphy.

“The nation has a worthy heir, all states maintain righteousness.”

A chorus of admiration arose in the hall.

Who was Teacher He? A literary leader, the chief of scholarly circles. With his affirmation, the emperor could win the hearts of scholars and literati throughout the realm.

Literati valued integrity. Teacher He’s personal congratulatory inscription, with such praise, was more precious than presenting a palace.

Continuous sounds of envious congratulations filled the court. Tie Ci personally rose, bowed to thank the teacher, and received the calligraphy with both hands, ordering eunuchs to immediately mount and hang it in the main hall of Ruixiang Palace.

Fang Nayan watched through the door crack, bitterly thinking that the teacher was the Crown Princess’s master—even giving a few words was tremendous face, but he, such a minor official, couldn’t manage that.

He then saw Hanlin Academy Editor Rong Pu, that person of great reputation both in and out of court, present his gift—also books, but these were from 170 examination candidates in the capital, each contributing one line to compose a birthday congratulations poem.

One could imagine that accomplishing such a thing wasn’t easy, requiring personally visiting and courting scholars. Literati were often proud—to unite so many people to congratulate those in power, though it included respect Tie Ci had earned herself, Scholar Rong must have worn out his tongue persuading them.

After all, such group poetry for birthday congratulations also meant winning literati hearts.

Rong Pu, born noble, could produce any kind of luxurious gift, yet he chose such a much more difficult but extraordinarily meaningful present—his sincerity was evident.

Another round of admiration arose in the hall. Fang Nayan again bitterly thought he wasn’t Rong Pu—he lacked the literary reputation and qualifications to gather literati for joint poetry writing.

The box in his arms now felt scalding. He dared not imagine that as a minor official like him, when presenting gifts in a row, his rough boxwood box alongside those resplendent containers, under everyone’s gaze—embarrassment aside, would the imperial family think him disrespectful?

The eunuch’s announcement echoed lengthily. He lowered his head and crossed Chengqian Palace’s high threshold with a group of colleagues, walking to the base of the red steps to congratulate the Crown Princess on her birthday.

This was Fang Nayan’s first time entering the main hall. He dared not raise his head or glimpse the imperial countenance, deeply bowing his head to stare at the gaps between golden bricks beneath his knees.

A row of sixth and seventh-rank officials presented their gift boxes with both hands to congratulate the Crown Princess on her birthday.

Eunuchs brought trays to receive them, carrying them in rows for the emperor and Crown Princess to examine. If the emperor and Crown Princess were interested, they would open boxes for display. Whichever gift caught the emperor and Crown Princess’s favor and earned rewards brought great honor to that official.

This was the Crown Princess’s first major hall birthday celebration, itself meant to display the imperial family’s status. Now with the Xiao family deflated and court winds subtly changing, the emperor had begun personal rule—the Iron father and daughter were no longer puppets. Even if ministers hadn’t yet changed sides, they had to show sufficient respect to the imperial family first. Therefore, for Tie Ci’s birthday, officials prepared gifts more carefully than for the emperor’s own birthday.

So the gifts were truly competing in splendor, dazzling to behold.

The Crown Princess seemed very interested, opening many gifts to look at them, constantly smiling slightly with an apparently good mood. However, she wore this same expression for almost all gifts and rewarded no one.

Everyone felt she must have high standards and became more cautious.

Little did they know Tie Ci was thinking: These bastards are richer than I imagined.

Great—if the nation ever ran out of money or lacked military funds, randomly confiscating a few estates would suffice.

Whom should she start confiscating from? Hmm, the old Xiao family ranked first with unparalleled competitiveness, the old Rong family also had competitive power rivaling Britain and America, several Grand Secretaries could queue up, the Six Boards and Nine Ministers needn’t rush.

Everyone looked up at the Crown Princess—His Highness’s expression was truly infinitely gentle and benevolent.

Slight hissing sounds suddenly arose from below the red steps.

Tie Ci woke from her beautiful dream of enriching the nation through confiscation. Her gaze shifted and she saw a very conspicuous wooden box below.

Compared to the eye-blinding boxes, that box was so plain it stood out like a crane among chickens.

The official presenting the box kept his head lowered, face unclear, showing only slightly trembling shoulders.

Tie Ci beckoned to signal a eunuch, who understood and brought the box up.

Seeing this action from the corner of his eye, Fang Nayan’s mind thundered.

He was about to be humiliated again!

Indignant grief surged in his heart.

She didn’t look at all those fine things but had to look at his box!

Hadn’t he been humiliated enough!

Fang Nayan desperately thought that when the box opened—

Fine, if scolded, he would directly remonstrate in the hall that the Crown Princess held extravagant birthday celebrations, wasting national treasury and harming the people! Then he’d remove his cap and request resignation!

Tie Ci glanced at the box brought before her. The wood was ordinary, carving work also ordinary, rough and simple, with a feeling of being completely out of place with everything around it. It reminded her of that official’s thin, trembling yet still straight shoulders, and official robes washed until they faded.

Officials below craned their necks watching, many with gleeful smiles in their eyes.

Tie Ci opened the box and took out the embroidered cloth and scroll.

Seeing just these two common household items, all ministers were astonished and looked toward Fang Nayan.

Fang Nayan tightly closed his eyes, waiting to hear subsequent mockery or even imperial wrath.

Instead, he heard a voice from above, gentle and melodious: “This embroidery work is truly excellent.”

Her tone carried slight surprise, as if the hand-embroidered scripture truly had stunning workmanship.

Fang Nayan opened his eyes in astonishment.

The ministers couldn’t see the embroidery work on the scroll, only seeing the ordinary silk cloth. Hearing Tie Ci’s tone now, they became confused.

From the beginning until now, His Highness’s attitude had been polite but ordinary—this was the first time her tone showed such delight. What kind of master embroidery was this?

Heavenly craftswoman Xin Jiuniang? Or the owner of Nianyun Embroidery Workshop?

The former was a renowned embroiderer famous throughout the realm, the latter a long-reclusive master of embroidery circles.

Tie Ci also carefully examined the hand-copied scripture, smiling brightly: “Good calligraphy.”

Everyone wondered again—whose calligraphy was this? The so-called Sage of Calligraphy Master Liu, or Master Gong who excelled in both painting and calligraphy?

Beside Fang Nayan, an official who had mocked him earlier whispered: “Didn’t expect Brother Fang to make such a grand gesture. This humble brother is ashamed.”

Fang Nayan: …That’s not really necessary.

He raised his head and for the first time saw clearly the young lady in the hall.

He saw her bright, cheerful smile, clear eyes, nodding slightly at him: “Minister Fang has been thoughtful. This gift pleases me greatly. Reward.”

A eunuch came down carrying a tray.

The auspicious cloud ruyi brocade pouch on the tray opened slightly, revealing golden ingots gleaming inside.

Very practical rewards. He immediately thought of his rent two months overdue, his elderly mother who needed medicine money, and his younger siblings who’d been clamoring about not having meat for so long.

Previously, he’d heard that imperial rewards emphasized noble rarity, mostly implements and paintings that weren’t easy to sell.

The Crown Princess had seen his predicament and not only salvaged his dignity but also considerately addressed his poverty in such an unobtrusive way.

She was a cloud in the sky—all living beings were like dust beneath her feet. Even a casual glance, with countless military and national affairs awaiting her planning, he had never imagined she could carefully notice the plight of such a minor minister as himself.

Fang Nayan recalled the various unsavory stories about the Crown Princess he’d heard in the Censorate, remembering his previous thoughts.

He sighed inwardly, accepted the reward with both hands, and bowed deeply: “Your minister is ashamed.”

Tie Ci only smiled and waved her hand.

She could see Fang Nayan’s gratitude—after all, for some literati, dignity was more important than anything else.

But her action wasn’t to buy favor or win him over, nor did she particularly care about his thoughts.

Ultimately, the court had been stirred into chaos by the Xiao family these years. Upright and honest scholars were becoming fewer and fewer. If she could protect a few, she would protect a few.

Sitting in a high position, she had long seen clearly the small actions below. Sometimes this court hall was like the classroom her master described—people below made various small moves, thinking those above couldn’t see.

She had seen military officers secretly dozing and civil officials secretly turning their buttocks to fart toward the military side to frame them.

Gifts flowed like water past her eyes. Her soul split in two—half maintained the heir apparent’s bearing with smiling examination, while the other half propped her chin, lazily thinking: Murong Yi must be furious by now, right? Someone who loved showing off so much, who had to meddle in everything, yet for her proper birthday celebration, he couldn’t come or give gifts—he must be jumping around cursing, right?

The official below giving endless congratulatory speeches suddenly froze.

Looking up, he showed an infatuated expression, forgetting his words.

Not just him—many surrounding ministers showed surprised expressions, looking at Tie Ci.

Tie Ci snapped back to awareness, touching her face in confusion. What happened—was she drooling?

Tie Yan leaned slightly beside her: “Cub, what did you hear that made you so happy? How come your father emperor didn’t catch it? This guy was clearly spouting nonsense the whole time—I was nearly falling asleep.”

Tie Ci was even more astonished, her fingertips touching her cheeks and pausing slightly.

Laugh lines hadn’t faded.

She had inexplicably started laughing?

After being silent for a while, she could only say: “It greatly pleases me. Reward.”

The minor official joyfully thanked her and went down, while accepting everyone’s envious congratulations and thinking: What did I say just now that made the Crown Princess so happy?

Oh, seems like I praised the Crown Princess for being mighty and robust?

Hey, his teacher said this wording was inappropriate—what’s inappropriate about it? Isn’t it perfectly appropriate?

The Crown Princess is mighty! She is robust!

An official friendly with him pulled him aside, whispering: “Brother, what did you say that made the Crown Princess so delighted? I was in back and didn’t hear—teach me too so I can earn a reward from the Crown Princess.”

“Simple! Just praise the Crown Princess as mighty and robust!”

“…”

The advice-seeking official looked up in confusion at the slender, tall, gently smiling woman above.

Where was the might? Where was the robustness?

……

Tie Ci now fully understood the feelings of teachers in classrooms that her master had described.

When students below made small moves, teachers above were also very tired.

Listening to these officials’ repetitive congratulatory speeches lacking any rhythm or cadence was exactly like a teacher calling on struggling students who couldn’t recite or answer questions.

She really wanted to learn from that Emperor Yongzheng her master mentioned and say to these rambling bastards: I truly don’t know how to love you all.

The gift presentation segment finally ended. With a call to begin the banquet, ministers went to the eastern side hall while officials’ wives opened their feast in the western side hall.

Originally, when outside-appointed wives entered the palace for banquets, they generally gathered in the empress’s Kunning Palace. But since the empress had died early and Tie Ci was the heir apparent, the banquet was held in Chengqian Palace, giving outside-appointed wives a chance to enter the palace’s main hall.

This was also Tie Ci’s intention—if men could enter Chengqian Palace, naturally women could too.

The wives didn’t participate in the hall’s gift presentations, only managing eating and drinking. When Tie Ci went to the eastern side hall, she saw countless young ladies poking their heads around behind screens.

Tie Ci felt a bit apprehensive—surely these weren’t all Mioci Society members?

Those eyes that seemed ready to press her and Murong Yi’s heads together were truly unbearable.

After toasting a round in the eastern side hall, more and more heads appeared from the western side hall. Many ministers in the eastern side hall, seeing their daughters behaving so improperly, became increasingly restless.

Tie Ci quickly raised her cup and smiled as she headed to the western side hall, thinking if she didn’t go soon, these young ladies would definitely get scolded when they returned home.

Seeing her approach, wives throughout the hall stood up to welcome her, most with bright eyes.

Consort Jing and Consort Ning, who were hosting today’s banquet, also smiled as they rose.

Consort Ning of the Rong clan was Rong Pu’s aunt. Though the Rong family was powerful, she was very cautious in speech and action in the harem, not maintaining much contact with her family—a dignified person.

Because the empress had died early and Consort Jing couldn’t establish herself, whenever there were major occasions, this truly noble lady came forward to help.

This dynasty’s harem was very peaceful, with no troublemaking whatsoever. There really wasn’t much to make trouble about anyway—since everyone lacked favor, competing for a puppet’s love held no meaning.

Tie Ci offered a nominal toast to everyone. Consort Ning sat her down, saying: “His Highness said not to accept our gifts, but we must still express our sentiments—otherwise how could we have the face to drink His Highness’s birthday wine?”

Speaking thus, she ordered palace attendants to present birthday gifts. Tie Ci respected her as an elder and smiled as she accepted them.

Consort Jing smiled beside her: “His Highness should accept Consort Ning’s gift. After all, we’re family.”

This statement sounded fine at first hearing, seemed pointless on second thought, but on third consideration seemed to carry different implications.

Consort Ning also smiled: “Then this is my good fortune.”

This statement was even more interesting. Many gossip-savvy ladies present immediately cast glances toward the eastern side hall.

They’d heard Scholar Rong had always been well-regarded by Consort Jing. Now hearing Consort Ning and Consort Jing’s back-and-forth, perhaps soon there would be strengthened family ties?

Tie Ci toasted Consort Ning: “When I was small, Your Ladyship held me too—naturally we’re family.”

She turned to see a bunch of young ladies below giving each other meaningful looks, whispering, appearing to be plotting something.

Especially the number-one super-fan, the Court of Judicial Review minister’s daughter, who looked quite excited, as if stimulated by something.

The young lady sat in her seat, clenching her fists indignantly: “With us here, we’ll definitely defend the Ci-Wei banner and not let the consorts mess up the mandarin duck matches!”

Chi Xue, who was ordered to move about the hall attending to guests, walked away from her with a strange expression.

Hedgehog?

……

With Consort Ning leading, internal and external appointed wives naturally also presented gifts by rank.

This dynasty originally had two other princesses—one married far away to Dayan, another died early, reportedly tormented secretly by her husband’s family conspiring with her accompanying governesses, leading to long-term melancholy and death.

When Tie Ci heard about this aunt’s situation years ago, she felt very grateful to her father emperor internally. Many princesses of the Great Qian dynasty met tragic ends—this should have been her fate too.

It was her father emperor who gave her a different life.

The remaining senior imperial family women included only Prince Zhao’s consort. Prince Zhao had been demoted to commandery prince after the last heir apparent incident. Tie Ci planned to give him a fief and send him away early—currently still searching for the poorest, most remote, most difficult place.

Therefore, all three members of Prince Zhao’s family claimed illness and didn’t come, leaving Shi Zi consort Xiao Wenliu as the sole representative.

Seeing Xiao Wenliu step forward, Tie Ci froze slightly. This young woman looked even thinner, her formerly round maiden chin now pointed, complexion not very good. Fortunately, the spirit in her eyes hadn’t faded. She stood there, presenting an embroidered pouch containing precious medicinal materials, smiling winningly at Tie Ci.

Xiao Wenliu’s status was too awkward—both Prince Zhao’s daughter-in-law and a Xiao family member. Palace attendants beside Tie Ci instinctively moved to take away the fragrant pouch she offered, not planning to present it to the Crown Princess, but Tie Ci stopped them with a gesture.

However, looking at that poorly embroidered pouch, she knew it must have been made by Xiao Wenliu’s own hands, and couldn’t help falling silent.

This pouch—she couldn’t wear it.

She couldn’t show any closeness to this woman.

That would make her situation awkward in both her husband’s and natal families.

She finally just waved her hand. Palace attendants took away the pouch, disappointment flickering in Xiao Wenliu’s eyes before she smiled peacefully.

Tie Ci asked her: “How is the shi zi consort?”

Xiao Wenliu answered respectfully with lowered eyes like all appointed wives: “Replying to His Highness, your subject eats and sleeps well, everything is fine.”

As another appointed wife was about to step forward, Tie Ci glanced toward the western side of the outdoor terrace. Xiao Wenliu smiled but said: “Your subject and several close friends have prepared acrobatics and song-dance for His Highness’s birthday. Please summon them in.”

Tie Ci, thinking she needed to find a chance to talk with Xiao Wenliu, absentmindedly waved her hand.

A troupe of dancing girls came flowing in like fairies, with rippling steps and silk stockings raising dust. Eunuchs also carried in large drums for the girls to dance upon.

Tie Ci originally paid no attention—watching song and dance at palace banquets happened at least eight hundred if not a thousand times. But with a glance, she actually saw the young ladies below looking even more excited and furtive, their gazes floating back and forth, lingering on her and rising and falling around the scene.

Tie Ci immediately became alert.

What—was there something fishy about this group of dancers?

Could it be…

Her heart jumped.

Surely a certain guy who loved playing the lead role wasn’t one of these dancers?

No way, no way, no way, no way?