With the Yang Family girl removed from the candidate list, others naturally scrambled to put their own daughters forward.

This time, twelve young ladies were to enter the palace, including Zhang Fen.

When news of the predetermined selections reached the ears of Li Gu’s three wives, each reacted differently.

Cui Yingniang dismissed her maids and sat alone, cradling her son and murmuring to herself: “I’m not afraid. What do I have to fear?”

Deng Wanniang said: “Someone is going to be disappointed.”

Her maid, unaware of the internal competition and arrangements among the Hexi candidates, asked: “Cui the Seventeenth?” After all, she had borne the Emperor’s firstborn — currently his only child.

“No.” Deng Wanniang smiled coldly. “I’m talking about someone else.”

The Hexi Commandery Princess vaguely heard the sound of something shattering. She wanted to go see, but her nanny and maids blocked her.

“What happened?” she asked.

The nanny soothed her: “Nothing at all. A maid near Madam accidentally broke something. Young miss, go to sleep now.”

The Hexi Commandery Princess asked: “Is Mother alright?”

“Fine, fine,” the nanny said. “Madam has been exhausted from all her duties these days. Be good, go to sleep, and don’t give Madam anything more to worry about.”

The Hexi Commandery Princess grumbled: “I wouldn’t cause Mother trouble anyway.” That said, she obediently went to bed.

The next day, Li Weifeng came to see Li Zhenzhen.

“What is Eleven thinking? Giving the position of Empress to an outsider.” He complained with displeasure.

Unlike the loss of composure she had shown the previous night, Li Zhenzhen had calmed down. She said: “Has Shiyi Lang not always been this way? No one else, nothing else, ever influences his decisions. He always looks at the broader picture. Old Seven, in the past, Hexi was the broader picture. Now, Hexi is just Hexi.”

Chen Liangzhi had essentially said the same thing already, but Li Weifeng still wanted someone to tell him it wasn’t so — that Shiyi was still the same Eleven he had always known.

Yet deep down, he knew himself: everything was different from before.

He sighed and said: “That Zhang woman — I looked into her. She’s no easy character.”

Li Zhenzhen glanced at him sideways: “You looked into her?”

It wasn’t that Li Zhenzhen looked down on Li Weifeng — it was simply that this sort of reputation circulating among the inner quarters was not the kind of thing a rough military man like him could uncover.

“Alright, it was people in my household who looked into it,” Li Weifeng admitted. “I’ve taken on some new staff recently — there’s a particularly capable steward among them.”

Li Weifeng was now a General of Returning Virtue, dressed in purple and adorned with gold. He had also been enfeoffed as the Marquis of Beiying and given an imperially bestowed residence.

Around him, beyond his personal soldiers, he had also taken in wounded veterans who had retired from the military — men missing arms or legs — and had them serve as household staff.

“The people of Yunjing are just as insufferable as before,” he said. “My men go out to handle affairs and are always met with contemptuous looks. I told Wu San to be my steward, and he said he would, but he won’t handle anything that requires going out — afraid of bringing shame on me.”

Li Zhenzhen knew the people around them well. She said: “Wu San isn’t wrong. He’s missing an arm, and that scar covers half his face. If you send him to handle all that receiving and entertaining, do you think this is still Hexi? You should find a few presentable, dignified people.”

“Already did,” Li Weifeng said. “Jingshan’s father helped me find someone — genuinely capable, presentable too. And familiar with Yunjing affairs, which saves a lot of trouble. He’s the one who told me: the Zhang family is overbearing, vicious in their official dealings. Lately they’ve been spreading the word everywhere that the Zhang girl is gentle and virtuous, but she’s actually no easy person to deal with. He said all the old Yunjing families know it. He mentioned he used to serve as a steward in some prince’s household.”

“Good,” Li Zhenzhen said. “A hound at a noble’s gate is worth more than ten rough men.”

But Li Weifeng asked: “Elder Sister, what are you going to do?”

Li Zhenzhen smiled, calm and unbothered: “What can I do? Before, I had the title of principal wife, and Eleven handed me the inner quarters to manage. Now that he has an Empress, naturally he’ll hand the inner palace to her. I can finally rest.”

Li Weifeng said: “Elder Sister, don’t be afraid — we’re here.”

Li Zhenzhen said: “What do I have to fear? Father was posthumously enfeoffed as the King of Hexi and Grand Pillar of the State. Nan’nan is already the Hexi Commandery Princess. I have nothing more to ask of this life — I’m at peace. Once the Zhang woman enters the palace, I’ll hand this burden off to her and be free. I’ll spend my days in prayer and meditation, seeking blessings for Eleven and Nan’nan.”

“But Old Seven,” she said, “you must always keep your head clear. Things are no longer what they were before — Eleven is the Emperor now. He doesn’t only have Hexi, but we Hexi people must stay united. I don’t need to explain that to you — you understand.”

Li Weifeng’s gaze dimmed slightly. “Understood,” he said.

He left Li Zhenzhen and stopped partway on his return.

When Fuchun spotted him, he saw him standing there in a daze, staring at the palace gardens. Fuchun called out warmly: “Seventh Master.”

The Seventh Master naturally had a more formal title now — he was the Marquis of Beiying. But Bantou had been calling the Marquis “Seventh Master,” and Fuchun was sharp enough to immediately follow suit.

Hearing it, Li Weifeng found it genuinely warmer than how others addressed him.

Fuchun asked: “Seventh Master, where are you headed?”

Li Weifeng said: “To the Zichen Hall.”

Fuchun brightened: “What a coincidence — I’m heading back to Zichen Hall as well. Shall we walk together? I’ll accompany you.”

Since the day Li Gu had first entered the palace and they had encountered one another, Fuchun had stayed at Li Gu’s side. By now, he could be said to be the foremost among the inner attendants serving Li Gu.

The two walked together toward Zichen Hall.

Li Weifeng asked: “Fuchun, how old are you?”

Fuchun replied: “This servant is twenty-five this year.”

Li Weifeng glanced at him and said: “Straighten your back. Hunched over like that, from a distance you don’t look twenty-five at all.”

Fuchun smiled: “Seventh Master is teasing me. A person like this servant is always in the habit of keeping bent before nobles. It’s been so many years — it’s become second nature.”

Li Weifeng gave a quiet “oh” and kept walking.

After a moment, he said: “I’m twenty-eight.”

Fuchun said: “Seventh Master is two years older than His Majesty.”

Li Weifeng said: “I’m twenty-eight, and I still have no wife.”

Fuchun was taken aback.

Li Weifeng seemed to be talking to himself: “And there’s no one left to nag me about it.”

He stretched his long legs and walked with broad strides toward Zichen Hall.

Arriving at Zichen Hall, Li Gu dismissed those around him and asked: “How is Elder Sister?”

Li Weifeng said: “She’s fine. Didn’t seem troubled.”

Li Gu asked: “What did she say?”

Li Weifeng said: “She said Nan’nan is already a Commandery Princess, and that she has nothing more to ask of this life. From now on she wants to live simply — prayers and meditation.”

Yet their elder sister was hardly the type who could actually settle into prayers and meditation.

Li Gu asked further: “Does she know it was I who sent you?”

Li Weifeng said: “I didn’t tell her.”

Li Zhenzhen had, after all, underestimated Li Weifeng — underestimated these men around her.

The Hexi faction had indeed lost the contest over the Empress selection to the old Yunjing party, but the first wave of ennoblements in the new dynasty had gone entirely to the Hexi core. Even as Li Gu sought balance, he would not grow distant from the men on whom his rise had depended.

But Li Weifeng naturally would not repeat to Li Gu what Li Zhenzhen had said about the Hexi people needing to stick together. Neither of them was a fool.

Li Gu said: “I broke my word to Elder Sister. I’ll make it up to her later.”

“Who could have known back then how things would turn out?” Li Weifeng said, relaxed and easy. “We only wanted Elder Sister to manage your inner household so she’d have a more comfortable life.” He tucked his hands into his sleeves and asked: “Where’s Bantou? What’s he busy with? Tell him to hurry up and finish handing over the palace garrison duties to me — I’m exhausted. Let me get some rest too.”

Half a month later, twelve young ladies headed by Zhang Fen entered the palace.

This was not a formal entry, but rather a visit with an evaluative purpose. Although the names had already been predetermined internally, the Emperor still needed to see them — in case there was someone he took a particular liking to, or, conversely, someone he found particularly unsuitable.

This had always been a required step in the process of ladies entering the palace, inherited directly from the former Zhao dynasty.

Li Gu met with these young ladies once — briefly. It amounted to nothing more than listening to each person give a short self-introduction.

Their families had all told them in advance that the new Emperor was young and valiant, but the young ladies had still feared he might be a rough, uncouth military man. Seeing him in person, however, he was a pleasant surprise.

After he left, their hearts were all greatly settled.

From that point, they spent their days learning palace etiquette from the palace nannies, passing the time uneventfully.

In truth, the new dynasty had barely been established — there were no real rules to speak of. What the young ladies were being taught was largely things the new Emperor had never even heard of.

It was merely a pretext. Li Gu wanted to observe Zhang Fen.

The three wives and three concubines already at his side were familiar to him — no concerns there.

Among the new young ladies about to enter the palace, the others were of lower rank and, even if troublesome, could not stir up much. The only one who truly mattered was Zhang Fen, the future Empress — the one who would stand above all women in the realm. The founding of a new dynasty was nothing like the hasty marriages of his Hexi days when speed was everything. Li Gu felt he still needed to see for himself before he could feel at ease.

It was at this point that he found Fuchun especially useful.

“She had a conflict with another young lady? And then what?” Li Gu asked.

“The lady of the Feng family backed down. But the Zhang lady would not let it go,” Fuchun said. “After returning to her room, the Feng lady wept for a while. The others comforted her, saying: ‘We hear she is to be the future Empress — let’s just endure it.'”

The Feng girl seemed decent enough, if somewhat timid. But in a man’s eyes, timidity in a woman was no fault — arrogance was.

Li Gu asked: “And the Zhang lady?”

Fuchun said: “After returning to her room, the Zhang lady told her maid: ‘You have to establish dominance from the very start — let them know who is wife and who is concubine.'”

Zhang Fen had even said smugly: fate and standing, noble or base, are all determined by heaven. These past few years have been such chaos — that Liu family’s young lord died and held up my marriage. But look at how things turned out: heaven was simply saving the position of Empress for me.

She laughed and said: and look at Lin Shi — everyone used to say her fate was auspicious. And where is she now? I hear she went off to the grasslands? The Hu people reek of blood and raw meat, and all those big beards — I wonder if Fei Niang, for all her book learning, can bear it?

“The grasslands?” Li Gu looked up. “Who is Lin Shi?”

Fuchun said: “Lin Shi is from the Lin clan of Hedong — the granddaughter in the main line of the late Zhao’s Chancellor Lin. Chancellor Lin remonstrated with the last emperor and, receiving no response, took his own life by throwing himself against the pillar of the Golden Hall. Lin Shi was subsequently sentenced to exile. She had once been a companion to Princess Baohua, and Princess Baohua rode after her on horseback and pulled her back before she left the city, so Lin Shi had been sheltered in the Zhaoxia Palace under Princess Baohua’s protection ever since.”

“Before the Princess departed for her marriage alliance, she entrusted Lin Shi to her maternal uncle’s household — meaning the family of the current Attendant Counselor Yang, specifically the second son Yang. I hear Lin Shi went on a hunger strike in protest, and the general had no choice but to send her along with the marriage alliance procession. By the time of the departure, the Princess had apparently not yet discovered this — and who knows what became of her after that. The last emperor, hearing of this, is said to have sighed and remarked that had he known Lin Shi’s character, he should have cleared her of her debased status long ago.”

To think that beside her had been such a worthy woman.

Li Gu had never heard Yang Huaishen mention this. Surprised as he was, he felt deeply moved and praised: “This Lin Shi — she has loyalty and feeling.”

Then, another thought: “Secretariat Drafter Lin Zi also comes from the Lin clan of Hedong.”

Fuchun, now serving as the foremost attendant at Li Gu’s side, regularly came into contact with these close officials and had long since learned all their origins and backgrounds. He immediately replied: “Lord Lin is the third son in the main line of Chancellor Lin — Lin Shi’s own elder brother. When the last emperor ordered the extermination of the Lin household, Lin Shi’s two elder brothers and one younger brother all perished. Only Lord Lin happened to be away from the capital at the time, and upon hearing the news, went into hiding. Unexpectedly, he ended up entering the capital alongside Your Majesty.”

Li Gu nodded: “He is a capable man.”

Fuchun still had more to say, but held back.

The Lin family and Chancellor Zhang Gong shared a blood feud of the deepest kind — yet now Zhang Gong was the Grand Counselor and Lin Zi merely a Secretariat Drafter. There was a doorway in the Chancellery that opened directly into the drafters’ office, and it was customary for the Grand Counselors to pass through it and consult with the drafters directly on matters of state.

Lin Zi was still relatively young. Every day he sat face to face with his enemy, heads lowered over the same documents, and showed not a flicker of reaction — clearly a man of extraordinary composure.

These grudges inherited from the former Zhao were evidently unknown to the new Emperor.

But such matters involved former-dynasty officials, and as a member of the inner court, Fuchun did not dare speak too freely.

Hearing Li Gu’s brief assessment, Fuchun understood: this Emperor was famously sparing with words, and being called “capable” was already a mark of significant favor. Fuchun immediately noted this in the mental ledger he kept.

“And then?” Li Gu asked. “What else did she say?”

Li Gu’s voice was nearly expressionless, yet Fuchun still caught the veiled displeasure beneath it.

Fuchun’s mouth went dry. His heart pounded like a drum.

From the moment he had heard the report from his informant earlier that day, he had known his opportunity had arrived.

He drew a deep breath and summoned his emotions. When he raised his face again, there were tear tracks on his cheeks. His expression was stricken as he said: “This servant… doesn’t want to say.”