When Empress Zhang participated in the imperial selection years ago, she had debuted in the center position as the “snake-slaying girl.” Born to a military household, she possessed a decisive and resilient character. Despite her humble origins, since marrying into the imperial family, she had maintained dignity through every storm. Even after her family was later ennobled as earls, Empress Zhang consistently kept her natal family in check, controlling external relatives. Over the years, Earl Pengcheng’s mansion had never caused any scandals or dragged down the Eastern Palace—Empress Zhang deserved great credit for this.
Empress Zhang was the Ming Dynasty’s fourth empress. Neither her character nor talents were particularly outstanding—she had no distinctive features and seemed mediocre. But how had she endured from daughter-in-law to mother-in-law all these years?
By making no mistakes.
From hereditary prince consort to crown princess to empress, Empress Zhang had never erred. Whatever she did, she prioritized propriety and reason. Even facing Emperor Hongxi, she was absolutely not the type to meekly agree to everything.
She was an empress with principles.
Having illegitimate sons born before legitimate sons was something Empress Zhang could not accept, so she directly rebuffed the suggestion.
Emperor Hongxi’s reaction to Empress Zhang was both respectful and suspicious. On the surface he remained harmonious, but inwardly he felt blocked, so he went to Noble Consort Guo’s Changchun Palace in the Eastern Six Palaces to relieve his mood.
That evening, Changchun Palace displayed the ceremonial arrangements for “imperial bedchamber attendance.” Noble Consort Guo was the head of all consorts, of noble birth, and had borne three sons. Unlike Empress Zhang, Noble Consort Guo also had principles—her principle was making Emperor Hongxi happy.
In life, the most important thing is happiness.
Therefore, Noble Consort Guo not only arranged a sumptuous dinner but also prepared late-night snacks before bedtime.
Emperor Hongxi ate with great satisfaction. The food and pastries at Noble Consort Guo’s place had such flavor—especially the pastries, loaded with sugar and oil for instant gratification.
Given Emperor Hongxi’s severe diabetes and already deformed feet from complications, the imperial physicians had instructed that his diet should be as bland as possible, with pastries containing minimal sugar, oil, and salt—ideally none at all.
But humanity’s long-term shortage of sugar, oil, and salt during the primitive era had written the craving for high-sugar, high-oil, high-salt foods into their genes—an irresistible urge. Junk food combining sugar, oil, and salt simply tastes best.
When he was crown prince, Emperor Taizong often summoned imperial physicians to inquire about Emperor Hongxi’s condition, so he had restrained himself and followed medical advice carefully.
Now that Emperor Hongxi was emperor, no one could control him anymore, so he began to let himself go. Empress Zhang had the Imperial Kitchen Bureau strictly control food and pastries sent to Emperor Hongxi according to medical requirements, wanting him to take care of his health and fulfilling her empress duties. So food at Qianqing Palace remained bland. When Emperor Hongxi wanted something special, he had Noble Consort Guo request it from the imperial kitchen, then went there to eat.
Since ascending the throne, Emperor Hongxi had been busy handling court affairs and playing mind games with the crown prince—extremely tiring work. He urgently needed relief and relaxation. Food was the most direct way to reduce stress.
Noble Consort Guo didn’t refuse Emperor Hongxi’s requests.
After eating his fill, Emperor Hongxi would lie on the bed while Noble Consort Guo provided indescribable services—food and intimacy.
According to Maslow’s hierarchy of five pyramid needs—physiological, safety, social, esteem, and self-actualization—most people satisfy them from bottom to top. But for Emperor Hongxi, having endured twenty-one years and changed his predecessor’s governance strategy immediately upon becoming emperor, transforming Ming’s economy, military, and society, he had already achieved the top four needs. What he needed now was the most basic, simplest physiological need—food and the indescribable.
Noble Consort Guo satisfied him. Emperor Hongxi increasingly favored this nobly-born consort. After a thoroughly satisfying indescribable encounter, Emperor Hongxi elevated Noble Consort Guo’s rank—making her Imperial Noble Consort.
Imperial Noble Consort was equivalent to a vice-empress. Emperor Hongxi also had the Imperial Noble Consort assist Empress Zhang in managing rear palace affairs, dividing Empress Zhang’s authority.
Not only that, Emperor Hongxi also granted the Marquis Wuding title—vacant for over twenty years—to Noble Consort Guo’s brother Guo Xuan.
After Marquis Wuding Guo Ying’s death, having no legitimate sons but only illegitimate ones, Princess Yongjia’s son Guo Zhen and Noble Consort Guo’s brother Guo Xuan had competed for years. Guo Zhen had Princess Mother as his backing, while Guo Xuan’s mother Xu Shi was a clan member of Duke Weiguo and also Empress Renxiao Xu Shi’s cousin. By blood, Good Lady Guo was actually Emperor Hongxi’s cousin.
One was a sister’s son, the other a cousin’s son. During Emperor Taizong’s reign, rather than offend either side, he had shelved the Marquis Wuding succession, saying he needed to examine both Guo Zhen’s and Guo Xuan’s character.
Now that the Ming had relocated its capital to Beijing, old Hongwu-era princesses like Princess Imperial Yongjia remained in Nanjing, far from the political center. Guo Xuan, leveraging his sister Good Lady Guo’s influence, gradually gained the upper hand in the title competition.
With Emperor Hongxi’s accession and Noble Consort Guo gaining imperial favor, “when one person attains the Way, even chickens and dogs ascend to heaven.” The Marquis Wuding title vacant for over twenty years was finally settled—Guo Xuan became the second-generation Marquis Wuding through his sister’s influence.
However, Empress Zhang’s natal Earl Pengcheng mansion was still just an earldom, while Noble Consort Guo’s family had become a marquessate.
In the Ming rear palace, Noble Consort Guo was subtly gaining power to match Empress Zhang’s.
Empress Zhang deeply felt the pressure from Noble Consort Guo.
Not only that, Emperor Hongxi especially favored Prince Teng Zhu Zhanhe, born to Noble Consort Guo. Zhu Zhanhe was sixteen this year, ranked eighth, while the ninth Prince Liang and tenth Prince Wei were also born to Noble Consort Guo.
When Emperor Hongxi handled court affairs and discussed state matters, he brought Prince Teng along, frequently asking his opinions and showering him with praise and rewards—just like how Emperor Taizong had once doted on his eldest grandson Zhu Zhanji.
All signs indicated that whether in the rear palace or imperial family, the west wind was overwhelming the east wind.
Neither Empress Zhang nor the crown prince could do anything about this.
Empress Zhang was a principled person. She could not abandon her dignity and responsibilities as empress to learn from Noble Consort Guo’s methods of seeking favor and indulging Emperor Hongxi’s diet, using food and intimacy to win back imperial affection.
Regarding Emperor Hongxi’s elevation of Noble Consort Guo and Prince Teng, Empress Zhang knew this was retaliation for her refusal to elevate Eastern Palace’s Consort Sun and her direct confrontation with Emperor Hongxi about wanting illegitimate sons before legitimate ones.
Should she submit?
Empress Zhang fell into contemplation. Sitting before her dressing table, she was forty-six this year, the same age as Emperor Hongxi. But she maintained herself well with regular habits, never indulging herself, appearing only in her early thirties. Having borne four children, her figure was naturally not what it once was, but she was definitely not old. Especially standing beside the obese Emperor Hongxi, her husband’s contrast made her appear youthful and beautiful.
Sensing a glimmer of white light before her eyes, Empress Zhang held up a mirror for closer inspection and discovered a white hair hidden among her black locks. To pluck out this gray hair, Empress Zhang undid her hair bun, gently parting her hair to find far more than one!
Since palace maids always handled hair combing, Empress Zhang hadn’t noticed her gray hairs. With Noble Consort Guo’s elevation to Imperial Noble Consort, Guo Xuan’s ennoblement as Marquis Wuding, and Prince Teng’s favor—each matter pressing down—Empress Zhang appeared calm on the surface but felt considerable pressure internally.
These gray hairs were proof.
Empress Zhang plucked out each gray hair one by one, properly arranged her hair bun, and restored her dignity. The female secretary official entered, saying: “The Crown Princess has come to pay respects to Her Majesty the Empress.”
“Take Princess Shunde to play in the Imperial Garden. I have words for the Crown Princess,” Empress Zhang said.
That evening, Eastern Palace.
Crown Prince Zhu Zhanji had recently been working from sunrise to sunset, rarely in the palace during the day, only returning for family reunion when the palace gates were about to close at night.
Prince Teng, born to Noble Consort Guo, spent every day following Emperor Hongxi handling government affairs, while Zhu Zhanji, the crown prince, was sent out daily to work.
What work did Zhu Zhanji do each day?
Searching for descendants.
He spent every day seeking descendants of those “Jianwen traitor ministers” whose families had been exterminated during the Yongle era—people like Fang Xiaoru and Qi Tai. He restored these convicted ministers’ reputations, found their descendants, restored them from official slaves to civilian status, and returned confiscated family properties.
In short, Emperor Hongxi wanted to reverse almost everything Emperor Taizong had done. The forty-six-year-old Emperor Hongxi had been suppressed too long. His rebellious period hadn’t disappeared in youth—it was merely delayed.
Emperor Taizong had denied the Jianwen era’s existence, changing Jianwen’s first year to Hongwu’s thirty-second year and calling Emperor Jianwen “the imperial grandson.” But as soon as Emperor Hongxi took power, he immediately revised historical records, restored Jianwen dating, and called Zhu Yunwen “Lord Jianwen.”
Confucius said: “When the father dies, not changing his ways for three years—this is filial piety.”
Conversely, that would be unfilial. Emperor Hongxi changed everything, especially regarding “Jianwen convicted ministers.” Anyway, he had the crown prince handle this—it wasn’t his doing. Even if unfilial, it was the crown prince being unfilial. He passed the blame quite skillfully.
As crown prince, Zhu Zhanji accomplished nothing significant, following imperial orders to seek “Jianwen traitor ministers'” descendants. He found Qi Tai’s son, who had avoided execution due to being only six during the family extermination and was exiled to the frontier. Now a grown man, he was summoned back to the capital, rewarded with a mansion, and had matchmakers arrange his marriage.
Huang Zicheng’s nephew, who had famously said “What if you execute my ten clans?”—Zhu Zhanji found him too, pardoning him to “return home initially,” providing house and land with good care.
There was also someone’s daughter—Hu Run’s daughter—confiscated as an official slave. Zhu Zhanji had just found her today at his maternal grandfather Earl Pengcheng’s mansion. The former wealthy young lady had become a pockmarked kitchen maid. Hearing the pardon decree, she washed her face and immediately appeared fair and radiant. Turns out this girl had deliberately smeared kitchen ash on her face to appear ugly, fearing assignment to another official slave for generations of slavery. At twenty-six, she had remained unmarried…
Princess Shunde had already fallen asleep. Zhu Zhanji and A’Lei chatted in an adjacent room about his day’s encounters: “This Ms. Hu is remarkable—enduring twenty years, daily applying plant ash to appear ugly, pretending to be stupid and dull. No one dared marry her. When she washed her face and changed clothes to meet me, her speech and behavior were elegant—every inch a distinguished family’s daughter. I’m deeply moved. An ordinary woman would have accepted her fate long ago, being matched by her master to some low-born official slave, marrying and bearing children, living a numb life. This Ms. Hu acted for twenty years—her hidden endurance and determination are astounding.”
After six years of marriage, they had this understanding. A’Lei knew Zhu Zhanji spoke of Ms. Hu on the surface but was actually encouraging her to endure.
This was just the beginning—that person had endured twenty years. No matter how Emperor Hongxi pressured them, they couldn’t defy his will or turn hostile. They must be patient.
With Noble Consort Guo’s rise, Guo Xuan’s ennoblement as Marquis Wuding, Prince Teng’s aggressive behavior, and Zhu Zhanji being forced daily to “correct disorders and restore proper order” by acting against his grandfather Emperor Taizong’s wishes, these days were truly unbearable.
When he returned evenings, he still had to act as if nothing was wrong, comforting and encouraging A’Lei.
A’Lei watched Zhu Zhanji’s forced cheerful smile, her heart aching as she recalled her afternoon conversation with mother-in-law Empress Zhang at Kunning Palace:
“Consort Sun is the emperor’s person. If the crown prince grows close to Consort Sun and she bears children—whether male or female—the emperor will be pleased, and the crown prince’s pressure will lessen. Moreover, once a woman has her own child, she’ll unconsciously prioritize that child. At that point, natal family and even husband become less important than her own child. Consort Sun is someone who can be won over. You should understand the principle of binding interests. Since Consort Sun cannot be removed, find ways to firmly tie her to the Eastern Palace’s boat. Children are the best rope.”
“If you secure Consort Sun, you turn the emperor’s ears and eyes into the Eastern Palace’s. Remember, you’re the crown princess—the crown prince’s helper. Your responsibility is protecting Eastern Palace interests. Merely indulging in romantic love makes you a derelict crown princess—a burden to the crown prince. You don’t deserve to be crown princess.”
“Sharing your husband with other women is something every crown princess must do. Don’t overthink it. Those women are merely breeding tools—like plots of land where you must evenly sow seeds. No matter which plot blooms and bears fruit, you’re the legitimate wife. They all ultimately belong to you and can only call you mother.”
“I know you want to mention Empress Renxiao. Silly girl, Empress Renxiao bore Emperor Taizong three sons and four daughters alone because Emperor Taizong was merely a prince then, and Empress Renxiao was from a distinguished family. Emperor Taizong’s ascension through the Jingnan Campaign came from Empress Renxiao desperately defending Beijing. The current crown prince’s heir position comes from being the legitimate eldest grandson. Emperor Taizong didn’t need to consider anyone’s feelings, but the crown prince must consider the emperor’s—not for a day or two, but year after year, decade after decade, ten years, twenty years… Do you know what to do now?”
Actually, A’Lei understood these principles without Empress Zhang’s reminder.
But six years of love couldn’t be severed at will.
A’Lei had grown up accustomed to Hu Shanwei and Mu Chun’s monogamous loving marriage. Her upbringing had formed her worldview—she couldn’t accept the imperial family’s polygamous family concept.
Given A’Lei’s character, she couldn’t accept separating physical intimacy from love. If it must end, it should end completely. Without physical fidelity, love was finished.
As Empress Zhang said, the crown prince’s difficulties wouldn’t pass in a few days. Even if Emperor Hongxi’s poor health, recent dietary indulgence and sensual pleasures at Noble Consort Guo’s Changchun Palace meant he wouldn’t live many more years and the crown prince could ascend the throne—what then?
The Zhu family still had a throne to inherit!
Forget illegitimate sons—A’Lei didn’t even plan to have legitimate sons. She didn’t want to get pregnant again, while the crown prince needed an heir.
This contradiction couldn’t be reconciled.
This contradiction had actually existed throughout their six-year marriage, but previously without such pressure, it had been masked by love’s sweetness. Now with Emperor Hongxi repeatedly striking at the crown prince and pressuring the Eastern Palace, hidden contradictions became obvious—reaching a point where they couldn’t be ignored and had to be directly resolved.
A’Lei stared at Zhu Zhanji steadily: “The time has come. I didn’t expect this day to arrive so quickly—I haven’t loved you enough yet.”
Zhu Zhanji was startled: “Don’t talk nonsense. Did mother say something to you? Or father? Or Consort Sun? Don’t listen to them. The emperor won’t depose me for not favoring his appointed consort.”
A’Lei said: “The emperor won’t depose you for that, but he’ll make things even more difficult for you because of it.”
Zhu Zhanji: “I can bear it. I survived being caught between the emperor and Emperor Taizong back then. This grinding is nothing.”
A’Lei smiled: “I know you can, but I feel sorry for you.”
Zhu Zhanji gripped her hand tightly, calling her pet name: “A’Lei, dear sister, six years—you haven’t loved enough, and I haven’t loved enough. No matter what I face outside, having you and our daughter waiting in the Eastern Palace makes everything insignificant.”
“But I don’t want this kind of bitter love, gradually worn away and devoured by pain, becoming unrecognizable, with mutual resentment and torment.” A’Lei broke free from his hand. “I haven’t loved you enough, but I must give you up now. From tonight, I’m no longer your A’Lei, dear sister. From now on, I am Eastern Palace Crown Princess Hu Shanxiang. I’ll fulfill the crown princess’s responsibilities, help you through difficulties, and afterward… I’ll leave this place.”
Author’s Note: Growing up in painful dilemmas of choice—generation after generation has gone through this. Hu Shanwei did, and so does A’Lei. First loves are true love, wholehearted love.
A’Lei and Little Ji’s breakup—tonight marks completion countdown of five. Completion countdown 555555555!