What does the death of over a thousand people mean?
It’s like when you’re going to work in the morning and taking the subway—a train with twenty cars comes roaring in, the doors open, but you don’t dare get on because this subway is completely packed with dead bodies, leaving you no room even to stand.
This was the number of dead from the Eastern and Western Five Residences—enough to fill an entire subway bound for hell.
Hearing this devastating news, Hu Shanwei’s mind went completely blank, her whole body numb.
This is humanity’s instinctive stress response. When encountering severe trauma, the human body acts like a computer under virus attack—to avoid more serious damage, the first reaction is to unplug the network cable, disconnect the wifi, making the entire person slow and wooden-looking.
To accommodate the thirty-seven Korean concubines, she had sent people to renovate this place completely new, personally inspected it with strict standards, settled these girls who had come from afar comfortably, had the Palace Administration teach palace rules and etiquette. She felt she had done her utmost—why did disaster still strike?
Looking at the Eastern and Western Five Residences with their carved beams and painted pillars displaying imperial wealth and splendor, with everyone dead, where was this a rear palace? It was clearly a magnificent slaughterhouse with no survivors.
Shen Qionglian brought Hu Shanwei to Qianqiu Pavilion in the middle of the Eastern and Western Five Residences. “It all started from here…”
After Emperor Yongle’s personal expedition against the Oirat achieved great victory at Ulaanbaatar, he returned to court and focused on capital relocation matters.
The Korean consorts in the Eastern and Western Five Residences had been in the palace for nearly a year without even seeing the emperor’s face. One by one, they went to Noble Consort Quan, asking her to give them a chance to win favor, considering they were all fellow countrymen.
Originally, arranging for the emperor to share his favor equally, multiply offspring, and provide entertainment to relieve His Majesty’s worries was one of the rear palace mistress’s responsibilities. These women’s request wasn’t excessive.
However, Noble Consort Quan understood that these girls would never have a chance to touch the dragon body—even she, supposedly the favored consort dominating the rear palace, was merely a decoration.
This was an imperial secret that couldn’t be told to anyone.
But these girls had just entered the palace at the height of their romantic awakening and ambition, not yet worn down to despair. She had no reason to refuse directly, so she could only deflect: “His Majesty just returned from the expedition and has many important matters to handle. He has no time at present—please be patient.”
Noble Consort Quan approached Emperor Yongle about the thirty-seven concubines’ “thirst for favor” in the Eastern and Western Five Residences.
Emperor Yongle had long decided not to establish another empress or have illegitimate offspring, to avoid troubles of competing for favor and succession. Moreover, at his current age and position, he had cut off romantic affairs more cleanly than a monk. He only wanted to achieve great deeds—women were like vases and collectibles in a curio cabinet. He had no leisure to play with collectibles, but for imperial dignity and political reasons, the curio cabinet couldn’t be empty; the necessary decorations must be present.
Emperor Yongle felt that since these Korean concubines had come, always leaving them idle in the Eastern and Western Five Residences looked bad. Noble Consort Quan managed the rear palace but lacked confidence—he should show his face to give Noble Consort Quan some dignity.
No one is perfect. Someone like Noble Consort Quan was most suitable as a favored consort—just enjoying herself, being beautiful, obediently playing the flute like a vase.
For managing the rear palace, Noble Consort Zhang with the highest “prestige” was most suitable—at least no one dared ask Noble Consort Zhang to help them win favor.
Noble Consort Zhang would have glared them down and suppressed them completely.
Emperor Yongle decided to support Noble Consort Quan, showing that her words carried weight with the emperor. He commanded Noble Consort Quan to hold a banquet at Qianqiu Pavilion in the middle of the Eastern and Western Five Residences, to enjoy the autumn scenery with the thirty-seven new concubines.
Noble Consort Quan spread the news to the Eastern and Western Five Residences, telling them to prepare songs and dances. Next month, His Majesty would hold a banquet at Qianqiu Pavilion to meet these new Korean concubines collectively, and they should use their abilities to attract the emperor’s attention. Anyway, this fat piece of meat—the emperor—was being delivered to their doorstep. Whether they could eat it, and how much, depended entirely on individual skill.
The thirty-seven Korean girl group began their training. Some played waist drums, some played traditional Korean instruments like gayageum and geomungo, but most practiced dancing. When they spun, their wide horse-tail skirts opened like blooming flowers.
These ravishingly beautiful young women had heard countless legends of Empress Qi’s rise from slavery to empress through winning imperial favor during their time in their homeland.
Qi was merely a Korean tribute girl, a kitchen maid covered in soot and ash all day. This Cinderella caught Yuan Emperor Huizong’s attention through superior tea-brewing skills. Tea in those days was called “tea soup”—you could imagine putting anything and everything into tea leaves: milk, sesame, walnuts, eggs, even pickled vegetables like shepherd’s purse could be boiled together with tea leaves. Whether it tasted good was pure luck—no matter what dark cuisine it was, someone would appreciate it and find it heavenly, let alone tea.
Qi fought her way from slave to empress by first using talent to catch the emperor’s attention, then using beauty and schemes to win favor, bearing a prince, then plotting to eliminate other princes, becoming empress and even empress dowager.
All thirty-seven Korean girls had heard Empress Qi’s legend. They all wanted to replicate her path to success, becoming the second Empress Qi. None was willing to grow old alone in the palace, reduced to “white-haired palace ladies sitting idle, chatting about Emperor Xuanzong.”
The scheming Beauty Lü who had led the petition to Noble Consort Quan chose tea brewing as her talent—exactly the same path as Empress Qi. She firmly believed in toxic advice like “to conquer a man’s heart, first conquer his stomach.”
Beauty Lü’s family were among Korea’s top merchants. More than half the ginseng in the capital was imported by the Lü family. They owned several pharmacies in the capital, with ginseng as their main product, plus other medicines.
Beauty Lü had money and enormous audacity. She wanted to make a stunning debut like Empress Qi, conquering Emperor Yongle’s stomach with a cup of tea, then conquering the emperor’s heart.
But what if this tea didn’t suit Emperor Yongle’s taste?
Ambition fueled Beauty Lü’s wicked thoughts: if only His Majesty would drink my tea and never forget me afterward.
Then she’d add some “ingredients” to the tea.
The Lü family’s pharmacy in the capital had ready supplies—things that made people want more after eating, always craving them.
But Beauty Lü lived deep in the palace—once you enter the palace gates, it’s as deep as the sea. Ambition emboldened her, money paved the way. Beauty Lü targeted Eunuch Yu who served her, bribing him heavily to help deliver a secret letter to her family in the capital.
This Eunuch Yu was originally a Korean eunuch slave sent as tribute—they were all fellow countrymen, making communication convenient.
Reading the letter, the Lü family—nouveau riche who had sent their daughter to serve the emperor, gaining official positions and leaping from commoners to Korean aristocrats—had adventurous spirits.
The Lü family had tasted success through their daughter’s influence and wanted to cultivate her into the Ming Dynasty’s Empress Qi, with prosperity just around the corner.
The Lü family was quite scheming and thanked Eunuch Yu with more heavy payments.
Money moves hearts.
Eunuch Yu got rich just by hiding a letter in his shoe sole’s lining, immediately treating Beauty Lü as his cash cow. He found every opportunity to leave the palace, each time visiting the Lü family to demand premium ginseng and money. The Lü family satisfied all requests.
On his third demand for money, the Lü family gave Eunuch Yu a gray squirrel fur robe, saying Beauty Lü’s mother missed her daughter and made a garment for her, hoping she could feel maternal warmth in the palace.
Having served in the palace for years, Eunuch Yu knew the rules—what could and couldn’t be taken. Seeing it wasn’t prohibited food or medicine but just a fur garment, he simply took off his old cotton jacket, put on the fur robe, and swaggered back to the palace.
During palace entry searches, Eunuch Yu successfully evaded detection.
Eunuch Yu gave the gray squirrel fur robe to Beauty Lü. She cut open the silk lining and pulled out several oil paper packets containing grayish-white powder.
This powder came from a Korean mushroom, dried and ground. It tasted ordinary but made people feel euphoric and mentally excited after eating it, causing poetic inspiration to flow like springs. Anyone who tried it would definitely want more.
Looking at the mushroom powder like a precious treasure, Beauty Lü began fantasizing about winning favor through tea brewing like Empress Qi, dominating the rear palace, climbing step by step, bearing a prince, then gaining honor through her son to ascend to empress position.
With mushroom powder to secure favor, nightly imperial attention would surely enable her to bear a prince.
Women needed princes by their side—never like that useless Noble Consort Quan who had favor but refused to bear fruit. What use was that?
Beauty Lü dreamed of her empress enthronement ceremony.
On the banquet day, thirty-seven consorts from the Eastern and Western Five Residences gathered at Qianqiu Pavilion to welcome Emperor Yongle.
They visited Noble Consort Quan’s Changchun Palace daily to pay respects, but this was their first time seeing the emperor.
Emperor Yongle’s appearance and demeanor perfectly matched their fantasies of a great ruler.
Actually, by age, Emperor Yongle could be their grandfather.
But power is the best aphrodisiac. All the world’s beauty filters combined couldn’t match the filtering effect of imperial status—even Pig from “Journey to the West” could become Chang’e, let alone the dignified Emperor Yongle with his natural imperial majesty from long rule, making him even more captivating.
Thirty-seven concubines: We’re in love! I want to bear your children!
Emperor Yongle was like Tang Monk falling into Spider Cave, with thirty-seven demons sharpening their knives to devour immortal Tang Monk flesh.
The banquet began with the thirty-seven concubines’ performances.
Gayageum, long drums, fan dances took turns, with dancing girls’ bright horse-tail skirts blooming like flowers—quite dazzling to behold.
But Emperor Yongle’s heart was already still as water. Like Tang Monk in meditation, faced with beauty, he saw only pink skulls. He treated the banquet as a political task, maintaining polite smiles. Regardless of the concubines’ performances, all received Emperor Yongle’s generous rewards without favoritism.
Seeing this, Beauty Lü grew anxious: the emperor was widely experienced—ordinary beauty and talent couldn’t catch his eye. From start to finish, she hadn’t seen any surprise or emotion from the emperor.
Strong medicine was needed, or this opportunity would be lost with no knowing when the next would come.
This time, no matter what, she must make the emperor remember her and never forget her… tea.
Beauty Lü sat aside brewing tea—sesame, salt, bamboo shoots, chestnuts, cucumber seeds, walnuts, shepherd’s purse, osmanthus, rose-infused Lu’an Sparrow Tongue tea.
This tea required eight seasonings plus Lu’an Sparrow Tongue tea leaves. This was a recipe and brewing method the Lü family had bought with heavy payment.
All ingredients and tea leaves, including spring water, were provided by the Imperial Kitchen Bureau.
Beauty Lü’s delicate hands moved gracefully, adding seasonings according to heat and sequence. Under her sleeve’s concealment, she sprinkled in an entire packet of mushroom powder.
One cup of tea with nine ingredients created a strange fragrance—not like tea but more like rich broth, with no mushroom scent detectable.
This was the tea brewing method popular in Song times, quite common in early Ming. No one found it strange. Emperor Yongle came to show face and wouldn’t refuse. After tasting two sips and finding it smooth, he drank the entire cup.
After drinking, he wanted more.
Seeing Emperor Yongle’s pleasure, Noble Consort Quan had Beauty Lü brew another bowl.
Emperor Yongle drank three cups before stopping.
By then the banquet was ending. Having drunk some wine, Emperor Yongle felt dizzy. Just after the banquet concluded and rewards were given, he went to nearby Changchun Palace—Noble Consort Quan’s residence—for an afternoon nap.
His Majesty didn’t rest in any of the Eastern and Western Five Residences’ courtyards or summon new concubines, but slept in the old favorite’s palace instead, greatly disappointing the thirty-seven Korean concubines who had performed earnestly.
They respectfully saw off Emperor Yongle and Noble Consort Quan on the surface, but behind them thirty-seven pairs of envious, jealous, hateful eyes stared at Noble Consort Quan: Bah, old witch! You weren’t helping us win favor—you used us to secure your own position!
Noble Consort Quan was accustomed to this. When His Majesty slept, he truly just slept—nothing more. But this was a secret that couldn’t be revealed.
Noble Consort Quan dismissed everyone as usual and personally removed Emperor Yongle’s boots and clothes.
Then Emperor Yongle began hallucinating, seeing little people dancing before his eyes, feeling inexplicably happy, dancing along with them as if he’d become young again.
Never having seen Emperor Yongle like this, Noble Consort Quan said gently, “Your Majesty, what’s wrong?”
“Miaoyi?” Emperor Yongle was ecstatic. In his confusion, he saw his deceased wife Empress Renxiao standing alive before him. Obsessed with longing, he blurted out his late wife’s personal name.
“Your Majesty?” Seeing Emperor Yongle’s flushed face, Noble Consort Quan sensed trouble. Testing his forehead temperature—it seemed higher than normal—she was about to summon a female physician when the excited Emperor Yongle suddenly lifted her up!
“Miaoyi, you finally came to me in dreams.” Emperor Yongle held Noble Consort Quan. If it were an ordinary concubine, she would have gone with the flow, taking advantage of the emperor being “drunk” and mistaking identities to sleep with him, making her nominal status real. After all, in this rear palace, besides sleeping with the emperor, there was no one else available—no other function.
But what kind of person was Noble Consort Quan? She remained clearheaded, didn’t love the emperor, didn’t want to bear his children—she only loved the noble consort position.
Now His Majesty was “drunk.” When he woke up, he’d absolutely be furiously unforgiving after putting on his pants!
Impersonating Empress Renxiao was deceiving the sovereign.
Even pregnancy couldn’t exempt the death penalty, because she was Korean tribute—His Majesty didn’t want vassal women bearing his children.
Noble Consort Quan struggled hard, but as a woman, how could she match Emperor Yongle’s strength? Seeing the bed approaching, with no other option, she extended her hand with three-inch fingernails and scratched hard at Emperor Yongle’s neck.
The long nails painted with balsam juice broke off, scratching three bloody wounds on Emperor Yongle’s neck before he finally released her.
The mushroom powder was too potent. Though Emperor Yongle felt pain, he remained hallucinating. Under attack, the countless dancing little people all became one person’s face—Emperor Jianwen Zhu Yunwen.
“Fourth Imperial Uncle.” Countless Zhu Yunwens slowly surrounded Emperor Yongle. “Has the throne been comfortable these years?”
Instantly, countless Zhu Yunwens caught fire but continued advancing step by step. “Return the throne to your nephew.”
Terrified, Emperor Yongle retreated, grabbing a plum vase and smashing it hard at the burning Zhu Yunwen. “I am the Son of Heaven with true dragon protection! How could I fear a mere ghost! Kill! Kill one who comes, kill two if they come in pairs! I’m not afraid of you!”
Outside Changchun Palace, everyone heard Noble Consort Quan’s screams and porcelain crashing on the ground inside, thinking there were assassins, they rushed in to rescue the emperor.
Seeing the scene before them, everyone was stunned. Noble Consort Quan lay struggling in a pool of blood, her hair completely soaked with blood from head wounds, the ground covered with porcelain fragments.
Emperor Yongle frantically pushed over the rosewood curio cabinet with a crash—all the ornaments fell, including a Western clock that landed heavily on Noble Consort Quan’s head. She stopped struggling…