There really were secret observers nearby.
The main task of these secret observers was to record the Crown Princess’s words and actions.
Zhao Hanzhang never concealed this fact. “The people are constrained by law and morality, officials have one additional constraint beyond the people—supervision. As Emperor and Crown Princess, besides being bound by law and morality and supervised by officials, we must also be monitored by court historians.”
“Every word and deed will be recorded in history, to be judged by people a hundred years later. Regardless of good or evil, right or wrong, this will continue for a thousand years,” Zhao Hanzhang said. “So you need to adapt to this in advance.”
Zhao Mingming adapted well. After all, from the time she could remember, she had seen court diarists following her mother everywhere without leaving her side for a moment.
Even when sleeping at night, a court diarist on duty lived in the side hall next to the main palace. They knew better than she, as a daughter, did which days her father came home, which days he quarreled with her mother, and which days he was driven to sleep in the study.
Even their private married life had no secrets—how much less would her training outside the palace be concealed?
In her mother’s words: “Whether your character and abilities qualify you to be a good heir, a good emperor—this requires evaluation. How is this evaluated?”
“Apart from your work, it’s the details of your daily life. You don’t need to suppress yourself too much. After thinking three times, do what you want to do. If you make a mistake, the ministers and I will remind you.”
So Zhao Mingming had known from childhood that her every word and deed would be watched. She didn’t feel uncomfortable about it; rather, she adapted well.
She had long since learned to treat these people as if they didn’t exist, only occasionally remembering their presence and examining herself. After confirming she hadn’t done anything that would affect the Crown Princess’s character, she would continue living boldly and confidently.
She didn’t think there was anything wrong with what she had said. She was the Crown Princess—naturally the next Emperor.
Zhao Hanzhang saw no problem with it either, so after seeing the record Yuan Li had specifically submitted, she said: “That she has such aspirations brings me great comfort.”
When this remark spread, all the civil and military officials knew the Crown Princess’s position was secure and the Emperor never doubted the Crown Princess.
However, most ministers still chose to remain loyal to the Emperor. Only a small portion chose to join the Crown Princess’s camp early, wanting to cultivate a power base for the Crown Princess.
The reality was that Zhao Hanzhang was too young. This was the prime of her life when she was vigorous and strong. Though she had injuries and illnesses from her youth, she had always followed medical advice in recuperating.
Moreover, she practiced martial arts diligently every day and didn’t have the weakness of typical male emperors who indulged in beauty, which allowed her to live very healthily.
Much healthier than the majority of ministers in court.
Her greatest health enemy was the heavy workload of government affairs, but in recent years she had established the Council of Deliberation, distributing the powers of the Left and Right Prime Ministers to the Council. With imperial power delegated, she herself had become somewhat more relaxed, no longer staying up until the third watch every night, and could generally fall asleep before the hour of the Rat.
Additionally, the Emperor emphasized the construction of the Medical Academy. Famous physicians from across the realm gathered in Luoyang, allowing medical knowledge to develop rapidly. Through this exchange, the medical skills of the imperial physicians in the palace also improved considerably, with the most direct beneficiary being the Emperor herself.
The arrow wounds that used to cause her to develop sores or painful, itchy wounds every season change and in summer and winter had gradually healed, finally no longer causing unbearable pain and itching when encountering extreme heat or cold.
By conservative estimate, the Emperor could live to at least seventy, and she was only thirty-seven this year—meaning she could easily serve as Emperor for another thirty years.
Thirty years!
In thirty years, the Crown Princess would be forty-six. In the meantime, if the Emperor accidentally gave birth to one or two more sons or daughters, who knew whether succession disputes might occur?
Moreover, thoughts change with age.
Especially for emperors—the older they get, the more they value the power in their hands.
The precedent of Emperor Wu of Han and Crown Prince Li was a lesson for the ministers, who naturally were cautious. So even though Zhao Hanzhang currently showed no reproach for Zhao Mingming’s related words and actions, displaying unique regard and favor toward her, and though Zhao Hanzhang and Fu Tinghan had a harmonious relationship with deep affection, because she clearly could live much longer, ministers who chose Zhao Mingming were still taking a great risk.
The ministers who wanted to gamble on the merit of supporting the dragon had built up their psychological preparation and made their choice with determination, only to discover at this point that they couldn’t find where the Crown Princess was.
In the court, apart from Ji Yuan and Ming Yu, the Left and Right Prime Ministers, those who knew the Crown Princess’s exact whereabouts were probably only Zu Ti, Fan Ying, and Yuan Li.
They considered these five people but ultimately discovered they couldn’t find anyone to probe for information.
Though Ji Yuan and Ming Yu firmly chose the Crown Princess, they were even more firmly in the Emperor’s faction.
If the Emperor’s and Crown Princess’s interests conflicted, these two would definitely choose the Emperor, not the Crown Princess.
Most importantly, both Prime Ministers were extremely opposed to forming factions for private gain.
So if they went to find Ji Yuan and Ming Yu, wouldn’t that be walking into a trap?
If finding Ji Yuan and Ming Yu was walking into a trap, then finding Yuan Li would be seeking death.
Yuan Li was the first person they eliminated from consideration, with Fan Ying being the second.
If Yuan Li was a hungry wolf, then Fan Ying was a loyal hound.
The court had three famous solitary ministers: Beigong Chun, Fan Ying, and Yuan Li.
Beigong Chun was solitary due to his personality—he was arrogant and not good with words, and as a relative of the Emperor, he only obeyed the Emperor. He was the ministers’ favorite solitary minister because he never troubled them. As for Fan Ying, this person was a mindless follower of the Emperor. Even if the Emperor pointed at an elephant and said it was a dog, Fan Ying would say, “Your Majesty is absolutely correct.”
She was now the Censor-in-Chief, supervising all officials.
The Censorate had now joined with the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review to become one of the country’s three judicial branches. It was no longer just the previous dynasty’s system of reporting based on rumors, but also had judicial power.
The Censorate had branch offices established in every province and commandery, specifically to supervise officials.
Common people could even anonymously report officials’ illegal and criminal activities to the Censorate. As long as they had relevant evidence, the Censorate would open a case and investigate.
Once verified, they had the power to handle legal cases.
Moreover, Yuan Li’s secret observer department also cooperated with the three judicial branches.
It was precisely because the Censorate was distributed throughout all provinces and commanderies that official governance could be so clean now.
Thus, Fan Ying successfully rose to become the third person in court who could not be offended.
The second person who could not be offended was Yuan Li.
Those who fell into his hands had suffered too miserably.
Although the Emperor had admonished and disciplined him several times and he had reformed somewhat, still no official wanted to fall into his hands. Too miserable, truly too miserable.
The first person who could not be offended was Fu Tinghan.
When someone offended Fu Tinghan, often before he even lost his temper, the Emperor would already help him get even.
However, Director Fu had a good temper and rarely got angry. If someone could still provoke him, it must definitely be that person’s fault. Never mind the Emperor—even the ministers were displeased.
That left only Zu Ti.
But Zu Ti was… watertight and slippery as an eel. Trying to get information from him was difficult, very difficult, extremely difficult.
However, he was the only one they could try.
Those people still quietly went to find Zu Ti to probe for information.
Zu Ti claimed ignorance of everything, but he didn’t inform the Emperor either, simply pretending not to understand those people’s hints and acting as if these matters had never happened.
Zhao Mingming trained outside for five years. She served as a minor official, as a county magistrate, and even went to the border to serve as a lieutenant. Finally, after going into battle several times, she successfully rose from lieutenant to adjutant general, then returned to the capital to be Crown Princess.
She didn’t return alone either.
When she returned to the capital, she brought a whole string of people with her. She also wrote letters to friends she had met during these years outside, inviting them to participate together in the civil service examination the following year.
