Empress Dowager Lan spoke warmly, offering formal words: “The emperor has not yet taken the reins of government. Since his accession, all has relied upon the Regent’s guidance. From today, we gain not only another elder but also a worthy teacher. The Princess Consort is a general of our realm. If she might instruct the emperor in the arts of war and horsemanship, would that not be a fine thing?”
The others laughed and agreed. Only the young emperor sat expressionless. Though not yet of age to rule, he was still the sovereign. Jiang Hanyuan bowed to him as well. He sat upright, eyes forward, receiving her salute without a word—so different from the boy of the previous night.
The formal greetings complete, it was now her turn to receive bows from the assembled noblewomen. The first was Princess Royal Nankang. The herald called, but Jiang Hanyuan’s gaze fixed upon the princess royal’s face, unyielding. The herald repeated the call, yet she gave no response. Realizing something was amiss, he dared not speak again.
The atmosphere chilled, silence falling once more.
Princess Royal Nankang’s smile faltered, becoming strained. After a moment, she looked away from Jiang Hanyuan and turned toward the Regent, expecting him to intervene. But his expression remained calm, detached, as though uninvolved. He did not speak.
Years ago, when the widowed princess diverted her journey to summon Jiang Zuwang for escort, leading to the death of his wife, the matter had been buried deep. Few outside knew, but everyone present in the Dowager Consort’s palace today was aware.
Thus, Jiang Hanyuan’s reaction was unsurprising, though still striking. What none of the noblewomen expected was that the Regent would remain silent, allowing his consort to press the matter so far, leaving his own aunt unable to step down with dignity.
Princess Royal Nankang’s face now matched the darkened expression Empress Dowager Lan had worn earlier.
Empress Dowager Lan, who had been stifling her resentment, finally felt it lift. Her mood soared.
The Regent’s desire to win Jiang Hanyuan’s favor was so strong that he would even set aside his aunt’s face for her sake.
At last, Jiang Hanyuan spoke: “I dare not accept the Princess Royal’s courtesy.”
The tension broke. She turned her gaze across the other noblewomen, still unsettled by the scene, and declared they need not bow.
“I was raised on the frontier, rough by habit, ignorant of courtly manners. If I have been discourteous, I beg your pardon.”
Her tone was calm, her bearing unshaken. Then she turned back toward the Regent.
Shu Shenhui, who had seemed almost absent until now, stepped forward once more to thank the Dowager Consort.
This was no ordinary daughter‑in‑law paying respects to her husband’s elders. The formalities were brief, a few words exchanged, and then it was over. The Regent and his consort departed the palace for their residence, while court affairs continued.
The young emperor lingered a while beside the Dowager Consort and the Princess Consort Xian, playing the dutiful child. Soon, he excused himself, saying he must review his lessons to prepare for Grand Tutor Ding’s questioning, and left. As always, a train of attendants followed him. He walked quickly along the palace path, head lowered, lost in thought. Suddenly, a voice called from behind: “Your Majesty, the Empress Dowager summons you!”
He stopped, turned, and saw his mother approaching. He had no choice but to wait until her carriage drew near, then stepped forward to bow.
Empress Dowager Lan fixed her eyes on him: “Come with me!”
The young emperor, helpless, followed her to her residence in the Tiyi Palace. Inside, she dismissed the servants until only he remained before her. Her face darkened, and she scolded sharply: “What is wrong with you? How many times have I told you? And yet this morning you shamed me again! Have you learned nothing from the last lesson? How long before you remember? You cannot even lie properly, nor read my signals!”
Shu Jian retorted: “Where I went this morning—you can ask the people you set to watch me. I was late, yes, but I still arrived. What does it matter? I knew what I was doing! You were the one who lied!”
Empress Dowager Lan grew angrier: “So! The emperor has grown wings! Now it is all my fault? Why do I cover for you, if not because your reckless behavior invites criticism? Do you know how they mock me behind my back? Do you mean to drive me to my grave?”
In her youth, Empress Dowager Lan had not enjoyed Emperor Ming’s favor. When her son grew, she discovered his intelligence and tried every means to win affection through him. But he had never submitted to her discipline. In such scenes, Shu Jian had long since learned to cope—by falling silent.
She scolded him alone for a while, but it grew tiresome. Seeing his indifferent face, she remembered he had already reigned for a year or two, yet she had not established her authority as empress dowager. Her anger flared again: “Emperor! Do not forget—you are the sovereign of Great Wei! If you continue like this, when will you ever be fit to rule?”
Her heart ached, her eyes reddened, and she choked: “Why can you not understand my painstaking care? All I do is for you…”
Shu Jian muttered: “For yourself, to keep others beneath you…”
“What did you say?” Empress Dowager Lan snapped.
“Nothing…” He drifted into silence again.
She glared at him, but realized he was no longer the child he once was. He was growing up. At last, she forced down her fury, softened her tone, and coaxed: “Enough. If you truly went to study, that is good. I should not have blamed you. But next time, in such occasions, you must not be late!”
She lowered her voice: “Remember, Jian’er, for now you hold only the title of emperor. Any small mistake, if seized upon, becomes a storm. You must always be vigilant; never give cause for reproach. In time, when you rule in your own right, with power in your hands, then all will be yours. Not only trifles like today—even life and death will rest in your command. Jian’er, do you not wish that day to come sooner?”
Shu Jian murmured assent: “I understand. If Mother has finished her lecture, may I take my leave?” He turned to go.
“Stop!”
He looked back.
Empress Dowager Lan approached, her face full of frustrated disappointment, and spoke low: “The court now intends to rely heavily on Jiang Zuwang. You saw it yourself this morning—your third uncle indulges his daughter greatly. She was rude and arrogant, yet he ignored it. You must be clever. Besides your uncle, you too should draw close to the Jiang family’s general. It can only benefit you.”
The young emperor muttered a vague assent.
Empress Dowager Lan watched his retreating figure, her brows furrowed. Her old nanny, brought from her mother’s household, entered to help her change clothes and comforted: “Empress Dowager, be at ease. His Majesty is wise beyond his years. In time, he will understand your devotion.”
Empress Dowager Lan sighed, pressing her temples: “Just now, in that hall, my head throbbed with anger.”
The nanny quickly massaged her: “Your Majesty’s health is precious. Do not let anger harm you. His Majesty is destined to be the true dragon. His nature is not yet settled, that is all. This old servant has a humble thought: His Majesty will be fourteen this spring. Though marriage is early, it may be wise to choose a suitable bride and settle the matter. Then he may feel the weight of his years, and sooner appreciate your loving care.”
Empress Dowager Lan closed her eyes: “What you say is not without reason. Before, troubles pressed upon me from all sides, leaving me no time to think. Now the court is steadier. I will consider it.”
The nanny agreed, continuing her massage. Then she recalled a piece of news and whispered, “Empress Dowager, I heard that Wen Cao‑lang is now seeking a match for his younger sister. Suitors flock to them.”
Empress Dowager Lan, eyes still closed, asked casually: “From which families?”
“There are three or four of note—said to include the Duke Ding’s household, Marquis Cao’s, and Prince Pinggao’s estate…”
Most of those noble families shared one trait: though lofty in name, they were largely old houses of merit. Once powerful, now for various reasons, their descendants were unremarkable, leaving them with little more than empty prestige in a Chang’an dominated by rising new elites.
Empress Dowager Lan’s lips curled: “Nothing but fallen households.”
The nanny agreed: “Indeed. Calculating carefully, as always.”
Her remark came because the daughter of the Wen family had completed her mourning period a year ago, yet only now did Wen Caolang begin arranging her marriage. It was said this delay was at the Regent’s urging—he wished to sever ties, to welcome the general’s daughter as his consort instead. As for the Wen family, or whichever household married the girl, even if not for her sake, the Regent would surely show favor out of respect for the late Grand Tutor. Thus, those “fallen households” Empress Dowager Lan scorned were all eager to claim her.
“Do you know which family the Wens favor?”
The old servant’s massage eased Empress Dowager Lan’s head, and with eyes closed, she asked again.
“They seem to have chosen the son of Official Zhou of the Secretariat. In recent days, the women of both families have visited each other frequently.”
The Zhou family, by virtue of its ancestors, held a minor county title. Their current rank was modest, comparable to Wen Caolang’s. Like the Wens, they were a refined, scholarly house.
Empress Dowager Lan snorted softly: “At least the Wens still have sense. Better to join with a quiet family than chase after hollow grandeur. With old ties, they may yet gain some benefit in the future.”
“Exactly. But this old servant also heard that besides those families, even the Princess Royal Nankang has involved herself.”
“She?” Empress Dowager Lan’s eyes flew open, head whipping around so sharply that the phoenix hairpin at her temple shook and rattled.
“Yes,” the nanny nodded. “I heard the Princess Royal wishes to arrange this match for her son.”
Empress Dowager Lan could not hide her astonishment: “She too? Why meddle in this? For what purpose?” Her brows, just smoothed, furrowed again.
Her surprise had cause.
Last autumn, on her birthday, Empress Dowager Lan had deliberately kept Wen Wan behind, hoping to create an opportunity for closeness with the Regent. Another reason was that, ever since Prince Qi became Regent, the court had closely watched the question of who would be his consort. Many sought the position, none more actively than Princess Royal Nankang.
Her husband, Marquis Chen Heng of Guangping, had a niece whom she wished to marry to the Regent. Empress Dowager Lan would never allow her rival to succeed, and so she turned her attention to Wen Wan, the Regent’s childhood companion. For two years, she had shown care and favor, nearly treating her as a foster daughter, summoning her often to the palace, scheming that even if Wen Wan could not become the principal consort, she might at least be a concubine—thus giving Empress Dowager Lan an ally at the Regent’s side.
In the end, both schemes failed. But so long as Princess Royal Nankang did not prevail, Empress Dowager Lan considered it a victory.
She thought the matter closed. Yet now, the Princess Royal sought to interfere again. What was she plotting?
The old servant, seeing Empress Dowager Lan’s frown, tried to soothe her: “With the Princess Royal’s son, surely the Wens would never agree.”
Princess Royal Nankang had borne no children with her current husband, Chen Heng. She had only one son, from her first marriage, known behind his back as the “Foolish Prince.” The nickname came from his natural dullness and his inferior wit. In plain words, he was not very clever. Yet by virtue of his mother’s rank, he had early been granted a princely title. Surrounded by flatterers, he spent his days parading through the streets, idle and vain, nearly hailed as Chang’an’s foremost young noble.
Empress Dowager Lan frowned: “If she presses with her rank, the Regent may avoid offending General Jiang’s daughter, and let it pass. Then the matter could become troublesome.”
The old nanny recalled how, that very morning in the Dowager Consort’s palace, the Regent had stood by the general’s daughter like a guardian. She realized Empress Dowager Lan’s concern was not unfounded, and agreed.
Empress Dowager Lan pondered, then ordered: “Leave the emperor aside for now. Keep close watch on this matter.”
Outside, the Regent and his consort’s carriage train passed along the road, returning to the prince’s residence.
Unlike the quiet streets of morning, now the city was crowded, the avenues choked with traffic. Guards cleared the way, slowing progress. Seeing the procession emerge from the palace, onlookers gathered, whispering that this must be the newlywed Regent and the famed general’s daughter. Curiosity swelled. Porters set down their loads, mule‑drivers halted, pedestrians stopped to stare. The street was clogged, tempers flared, and quarrels broke out. The Regent’s guards grew tense, fearing another incident like the night before. Their commander, Wang Ren, quickly ordered the formation tightened and the pace increased.
Shu Shenhui heard the commotion outside, lifted the curtain slightly, glanced out, then let it fall, shutting out the noise. He turned back to the woman seated beside him.
When she had left the palace, her face had been taut. Now, after some distance, she seemed calmer, though still silent. The chaos outside seemed not to touch her. She stared ahead, absorbed in her own thoughts.
He hesitated. Once the carriage cleared the marketplace and quiet returned, he looked at her profile and broke the silence: “Lady Jiang, I have heard of your mother’s early death. It was the fault of my royal house. I feel deep remorse.”
She did not stir, not even blink, and replied: “When a ruler commands a subject to die, the subject cannot but obey. How much less was this? Your Highness, you speak too heavily.”
Shu Shenhui paused. “I know words are useless now, and I cannot make amends. The only thing I can do is this: if ever I have the chance, I will go to pay respects at your mother’s grave, to offer my apology. This is my heartfelt vow.”
“What has that to do with Your Highness? What guilt have you to confess?”
He faltered again. “You and I are husband and wife. In time, even as your husband, I ought to make that journey.”
She turned her face slowly, her gaze resting on him, as if examining him.
Under her eyes, Shu Shenhui felt as though she were probing his soul. Suddenly, he recalled the night before. Was it that single word—“husband”—that made her inwardly scorn him now?
A wave of shame and unease swept over him. His back grew hot. He forced composure and asked lightly: “Why do you look at me so?”
“I thank Your Highness on behalf of my late mother,” she said slowly.
“As for the future—let it wait until it comes.” Jiang Hanyuan withdrew her gaze and turned forward again.
The rest of the journey passed in silence. Man and woman, side by side, wordless, until they reached the prince’s residence.