Chapter Two

The good mood brought on by admiring the beauty lasted all the way until leaving the residence and entering the palace.

Outside the second gate, the carriages and horses were already prepared. Ming Dan appeared tardily, holding a hand warmer, while Lady Hou, Madam Pei, and the cousin Miss Shen Hua were already seated upright inside the carriage.

When Ming Dan loosened her cloak and bent her head to climb into the carriage, a faint smile appeared in Madam Pei’s eyes. “A-Dan, hurry up and get in.”

Once Ming Dan had settled, she spoke again in a gentle, concerned tone: “Why did you take off your cloak? It’s cold—take care not to catch a chill.”

“The carriage is warm; if you don’t take it off now, you’ll feel cold when we get out.” Ming Tan smiled, her eyes curving as she obediently returned the hug to Madam Pei. “Making Mother wait was my fault.”

Madam Pei gave her a light scolding: “What fault, what fault—today is the Lantern Festival, don’t say that!”

“Yes, your daughter knows her mistake—” Ming Tan leaned into Madam Pei’s arms and dragged out the syllables, acting coquettish.

Madam Pei could only tap her forehead helplessly. “You, always so good at playing cute!”

Sitting across, Shen Hua saw this scene, covered her lips and smiled lightly: “Stepmother and cousin are so close, A Hua truly envies them.”

Mrs. Pei couldn’t help but glance at Shen Hua with a smile.

Since ancient times, a second wife has never been easily accepted. Ming Tan is the legitimate daughter of the first madam, and she also has a powerful maternal family backing her. In the first years after Mrs. Pei married into the marquisate, she feared others would brand her as a “harsh stepmother who abandoned her own child,” so she tended to Ming Tan even more carefully than she tended to the marquis himself.

Over the years she bore no children of her own and ought to have worried about the instability of her position as the household’s mistress, but because she and Ming Tan were close and she gained a reputation among the capital’s noble ladies for being “virtuous and kind,” she managed the role of mistress of the marquisate with steady confidence.

Because of this reason, and because Madam Pei herself cared quite a bit about reputation, anyone paying even a little attention would know that flattering her by praising her close relationship with Ming Tan was more effective than flattering her in other ways.

At this moment Madam Pei felt thoroughly pleased by the flattery, but Ming Tan’s mood took a sudden downturn when Shen Hua spoke up—

No other reason: Shen Hua had been staying at the marquis’s residence for half a year. On the surface Ming Tan and she got along, but behind their backs they had often been at odds.

Hearing Shen Hua’s syrupy voice now, Ming Tan couldn’t help but recall her own troublesome marriage and the gossip the household maids had been spreading.

Those rumors grew wildly exaggerated, but she couldn’t be certain they were impossible.

After all, the man from Changyu Street had been away warring for years; he probably hadn’t seen many beauties. These unlettered generals loved to affect refinement, itching to take home a houseful of talented women to prove they weren’t mere brutes—her father was the best example, never forgetting to bring Lady Liu along on official duties to compose poetry and match couplets.

If Shen Hua were to enter Changyu Street and rise to prominence, while her own engagement was broken off because her betrothed abandoned the match, wouldn’t Miss Ming of the household become the laughingstock of the capital?

Just now, before anything had really happened, those young maids were already weaving such tales; if this came true, she might as well cut off her hair and become a nun—there would be no place left in the capital for Ming Jia’s Atan!

The rumble of wheels buzzed in her ears; the more Ming Tan Yue thought about it, the angrier she grew, a tightness rising in her chest. When the carriage sighed to a stop outside Qixuan Gate, she was still mired in that sullen mood—

Officials’ wives entering the palace could not bring their carriages, horses, or maids inside. Madam Pei handed over the edict tablet, and after the palace matron inspected them to ensure they carried no weapons, an eunuch came to lead them toward the Yong Garden where today’s banquet was to be held.

Since Grand Secretary Daxian took office, aside from selections, it had been rare for women without edicts to enter the palace; a banquet of this wide invitation was unprecedented.

The snow-covered red walls of the inner palace were solemn and formidable. With each step forward the weight of that authority seemed to press down a little more, taking one’s breath away. The path to the Yong Garden was so hushed that other sounds fell away; only the faint creak of short boots on the thin snow could be heard.

Everyone walked on in silence, no one paying attention, when a window of the nearby warm pavilion on higher ground opened—

“…Having the Suibei Route take over the Eastern Prefecture’s affairs is a good thing; you’ll also be able to rest in the capital for a while. By the way, Axu, you’re… twenty-one this year, right? Why not use this time to settle a marriage—starting a family and continuing the lineage is a serious matter.

“Coincidentally, today at Yong Garden the Empress specifically invited all the eligible official families’ daughters into the palace. If any maiden catches your eye, tell me—so long as her family background is clean and her character proper, I’ll arrange the marriage for you.”

From the moment he entered the warm pavilion, Emperor Chengkang had been rambling, moving from the northern campaigns to the great victory in the Eastern Prefecture, and had finally, rather naturally, steered the conversation toward the matter of “marriage.”

Just as he was about to try a bit harder to persuade her, Empress Zhang standing nearby covered her mouth with a cough, glanced toward the window, then leaned in and murmured, “Among the women in that group, the young lady on the left wearing the silver-white cloak seems very proper, in my estimation.”

Emperor Chengkang was interrupted, instinctively narrowed his eyes and looked out the window.

After a moment, he nodded, seeming fairly satisfied. “The Empress’ eye for people truly isn’t off.”

He instructed the eunuch, “Go inquire—find out whose daughter that is.”

“Yes.” The eunuch acknowledged the order, bowed, and stepped back.

Emperor Chengkang turned his head and looked at the man in black beside him. “Axu, take a look too? After all, these selections are for you; it should suit your taste.”

As those words, neither fully said nor fully withheld, hung in the air, a gust of frost-laced wind blew through the window. The black brocade robe embroidered with cloud-and-serpent patterns fluttered, lifting one side of the hem. The man stood with his hands behind his back at the window, eyes lowered as he glanced once, then turned his gaze away without any expression.

Emperor Chengkang: “…?”

He really did only glance once.

Emperor Chengkang was silent for a long moment. Fortunately, he was already used to the indifferent responses of those beside him and didn’t take it as great disrespect; he simply gave up trying to speak with that person for the time being, waited for the eunuch’s report, and turned to murmur quietly with Empress Zhang.

In that short span, Empress Zhang studied Ming Tan’s figure from behind and felt increasingly pleased.

Most of these young girls had just entered the palace for the first time. Although their families had taught them proper manners, the imperial city’s authority left few unafraid. When fear filled them, they inevitably became hesitant and constrained, petty and cramped.

Having seen so many girls along the way, this one’s bearing was the most proper: every step and movement composed and graceful, truly pleasing to the eye.

After a moment, the eunuch returned to the warming pavilion and bowed to reply: “Your Majesty, Your Empress, this first is the wife of the Marquis of Jing’an, the fourth miss of the Marquis of Jing’an’s residence, and the one lodging at the Marquis of Jing’an’s household—the younger sister of General Shen.”

“General Shen’s sister?” Emperor Chengkang raised an eyebrow.

The eunuch hurriedly answered: “General Shen’s sister is the one wearing the woven-gold satin cloak; the one in the silver-fox fully embroidered cloak—that is the fourth miss of the Marquis of Jing’an’s household.”

The Marquis of Jing’an’s residence—this match is fairly suitable. As Empress Zhang was thinking that, a eunuch added, “The fourth miss of the Marquis of Jing’an’s household is already betrothed to the heir of the Duke of Ling.”

“Already betrothed?” Empress Zhang paused, “Well, that is really…”

The Duke of Ling’s residence is an old, prominent noble family; she couldn’t very well say the word ‘what a pity’ aloud, though regret did show on her face.

Emperor Chengkang, seeing this, casually filled the silence: “If they’re already betrothed, it’s not right to break up the match.”

His words carried regret, but inwardly he disagreed. The moment he heard “Jing’an Marquis’s Residence,” he had already ruled out that fourth miss of the Marquis’s house.

After a brief pause, he also pointed toward the now-dimming figure in the distance: “I find Shen Yu’s younger sister quite pleasing as well. The Shen family is of lower status, but she would do well enough as a secondary consort.”

Empress Zhang showed no interest in selecting concubines. She lowered her eyes to straighten her sleeve and did not respond to that remark.

Chengkang Emperor turned and asked, “Axu, what do you think? Weren’t you rather fond of that Shen Yu?”

“No, not at all.”

“If Your Majesty finds it acceptable, you might consider taking her into the harem.”

The voice was neither loud nor soft, with a hint of faint impatience threaded through it.

The court attendants nearby, for some reason, felt their hearts race and their legs go weak. Though the warming brazier in the inner chamber was clearly burning, everyone couldn’t help but tremble, bowing their heads low.

Nothing of what happened in the warm pavilion reached the guests at the banquet. Once they entered the Yong Garden, everyone was led to Changming Hall and seated in order.

The Jing’an Marquisate’s seats happened to be right next to the doorway of Changming Hall; anyone placed further back could only stand outside the hall in the cold wind.

Shen Hua followed Madam Pei to her seat, but she felt puzzled.

She had been in the capital for half a year and knew well that the Jing’an Marquisate was of illustrious rank and held considerable status in the city—so why, at today’s imperial banquet, were they seated so far away?

Shen Hua was puzzled, but Ming Tan understood perfectly.

In the capital, where the powerful gather, a marquis doesn’t necessarily command much respect. The Jing’an Marquisate currently looks so resplendent mostly because her father, the Jing’an Marquis, holds real power—he is a high-ranking frontier official tasked with defending the borders.

At court banquets precedence is based on rank. There are a dozen or so ducal households above their marquisate, and when you add the imperial clan, being permitted to attend the hall at all is already a special favor.

The Changming Hall was quiet despite the crowd; after Ming Tan took her seat, she casually glanced forward toward the places reserved for the ducal households.

Not having swept it away would have been fine, but that single glance set her blood boiling.

Did the Duke’s household think no one knew of their shameful deeds, or did they simply not regard her Ming family’s Adan at all, to brazenly bring that cousin—who now had a complete backstory—here! What did they think this place was, that they could bring someone to make themselves familiar in front of her so they could live amicably and serve the same husband?!

Madam Pei noticed Ming Dan’s change in expression and softly called, “Adan, what is it?”

The secret the Duke’s household hid was still unknown to Madam Pei. Ming Dan withdrew her gaze, forced out a “nothing,” and forced herself to tamp down her anger, sit properly, and not look again in the slightest.

At the Ling Duke’s residence, where no one had previously noticed Ming Tan’s gaze, people now realized that the women of the Jing’an Marquisate had arrived and couldn’t help but look over from a distance.

Madam Ling was among those inspecting them, and she did so with a certain air of self-satisfaction.

Ming Tan of the Ming household had enjoyed an unrivaled reputation among the capital’s young ladies: family background and looks, manners, qin skill—she excelled in every regard. Her temperament suited both activity and repose; she could please a husband and also comport herself at grand occasions—very rare qualities. Fortunately this engagement had been arranged early; otherwise every family with a son would have sought her hand.

Madam Ling was, one hundred and twenty percent, pleased with the match—if only it weren’t for her troublesome son—

Thinking this, she glanced back and happened to see the young woman timidly steadying her tea bowl. She couldn’t help but sigh inwardly: though she’s her nephew’s daughter, she simply isn’t presentable; in the end, she isn’t presentable.

Who knew how much longer this could be kept hidden? The Marquis of Jing’an’s term was ending, and when he returned to the capital to report, the two families’ marriage would have to be put on the agenda. If she wanted to smoothly bring Mingjia’s Atan into the household, she still had to plan early.

Everyone in the hall harbored their own thoughts, but outwardly they presented the same composed quietness.

The silence lasted until the palace eunuch at the front cried out in a high voice: “Her Majesty the Empress has arrived—”

Only then did the assembly lower their thoughts and rise, moving as one toward the Empress to kneel in salute: “Your Majesty the Empress, may you be blessed with great fortune and peace!”

“Rise.” Empress Zhang’s voice was rather gentle, even carrying a faint smile. “Today is the Lantern Festival. I invited everyone into the palace simply for merriment. Sit—no need for rigid ceremony.”

She said it so, but truly bold enough to plop down without ceremony would not have made it alive into this Changming Hall. The gathered all bowed and answered “Yes,” then took their seats properly.

Banquets in the palace always followed cumbersome protocol. Although Empress Zhang excused some unnecessary formalities, by the time each prescribed ritual had been observed the dishes set out for sharing had all gone completely cold. The noblewomen and ladies of rank took only a bite or two as a token, maintaining their composed, refined demeanor at every moment.

Silk and bamboo music filled the hall, the dancers’ movements graceful. The clan women at the front occasionally chatted with Empress Zhang about happenings in the capital, light laughter drifting back from time to time; the atmosphere was relaxed and appropriate.

Midway through the banquet, an eunuch hurried over to Empress Zhang to relay a message. Whatever was said, the empress gave a few orders, and someone briskly added two seats at the head table.

Though no one looked directly, everyone knew perfectly well in their hearts that this bland, tasteless palace feast was finally about to move to the main event.

Sure enough, no sooner had that thought occurred than an eunuch began relaying loudly, one after another, to the back: “His Majesty has arrived—”

Mingtan was still thinking about the marriage with the Duke Ling’s household when she suddenly heard the voice, quickly setting aside her thoughts and, like the others, stepped forward to bow.

A roar of “Long live the Emperor” swept through the hall, echoing in the vaulted space. When the echoes died down, a gentle yet authoritative “Rise” came from the front.

As Mingtan rose, she was surprised: the emperor’s voice sounded far younger than she had imagined. If the Prince Who Pacifies the North was the emperor’s cousin, wouldn’t he be even younger?

Once everyone was seated, Empress Zhang spoke up to pave the way: “The recent great victory in the Eastern Province before the moon festival truly delighted our court. Coincidentally today, His Majesty has also summoned the ministers to Hong’an Hall to celebrate the merit of the Duke of the Northern Border. I thought that although we are women, we ought to show our respects to our great achiever’s brave son, so I specially invited the Emperor and the Duke of the Northern Border here.”

After a brief pause, someone started, and the voices of agreement and praise in front rose in succession, unending.

Mingtan knew that noble ladies in the capital were careful and tactful in their manner, but she never expected that the tactfulness practiced within the palace would take so many convoluted turns. It was plainly a chance to look at the princess consort, yet they insisted on calling it a tribute of praise.

She was seated far away and, unable to gaze upon the imperial face, the three people ahead of her were nothing more than vague blurs of color in the corner of her eye.

Just as she thought that His Highness the Prince of Stabilizing the North must be mute—so attentive in drinking and flattering yet not uttering a word—a familiar coquettish female voice suddenly rang out from across the hall: “Long have I heard that Your Highness, barely of age to bind your hair, led three thousand elite troops to hold back thirty thousand northern barbarians, winning illustrious feats for the realm. I, your humble servant, have admired you for years; to behold you today is a blessing across three lifetimes. I would like to offer Your Highness a song, ‘Xiaoxiang Waters and Clouds’…”

She was the legitimate second daughter of the Cheng’en Marquis, Gu Jiurou.

The Cheng’en Marquis’s household had never cared for public opinion; when the imperial censor previously denounced the beguiling Imperial Noble Consort for corrupting the emperor, they had not been deterred, and now they even set their sights on the position of Princess Consort of the Prince of Stabilizing the North.

After a round of flattering praises, the music and dance were already in place. Gu Jiurou made a graceful kowtow, and finally said modestly, “I am untalented and shall disgrace myself.”

Mingtan had practiced the zither since childhood under renowned masters; when someone wanted to display their skill before her, she felt a certain curiosity about how they might astonish everyone.

Unfortunately she didn’t get that treat — before the coquettish words had hardly finished, the man in black brocade above interrupted coolly, “If you know it’s ugly, then don’t show it.”