There was no denying that Consort Zhang was an exceptionally beautiful woman.
Empress Cao’s appearance was not particularly outstanding, but having been born into a top-tier Military Nobility family and raised in the lap of luxury since childhood, she possessed her own pride, dignity, and an air of grace.
To Zhao Xin, she felt like bamboo.
Flowers come in a thousand colors, each with its own brilliance, yet no matter the hue, none could completely overshadow the verdant green of bamboo.
Moreover, bamboo not only has deep and extensive roots, but its seemingly slender and delicate branches and leaves are also remarkably resilient, capable of bearing great weight at critical moments.
Consort Miao, on the other hand, was like an orchid in a secluded valley. Neither her appearance nor her temperament was top-tier, but when combined, they created a refreshing and ethereal beauty that could make one forget their worries.
However, to Zhao Xin, Consort Miao gave him a feeling of warmth—just the right amount, neither too much nor too little. It was like a clay stove in winter, where one could always find a kitten curled up inside.
But this Consort Zhang was entirely different from the two, radiating a bold and passionate allure.
Like a peony in full bloom, she shone with glory, effortlessly drawing people’s gaze to her.
Even someone like Zhao Xin, who had been exposed to countless beauties on the internet, felt a momentary daze upon seeing her.
Yet, despite such an appearance, in the idle chatter of the palace servants, she was described as gentle, accommodating, and utterly devoted to his father. Thus, she enjoyed the greatest favor, her privileges exceeding the norm.
Judging solely by Consort Zhang’s rapid rise in rank and the children she bore, Zhao Xin felt that the palace servants’ accounts were likely eighty percent true.
However, Zhao Xin had no desire to criticize his father for being fond of beauty at this moment, because such a thing was like stomping one’s foot—if he did it, he’d feel the numbness too.
Imagine a stunningly beautiful, peony-like woman who, in your presence alone, behaved like a flower that understood your heart. The psychological satisfaction this brought was something only a Buddha or a saint could resist being swept away by.
According to the feudal morality of the time, Zhao Xin had no grounds to oppose his father’s favor toward his concubine.
Especially since this concubine provided immense emotional value, effectively soothing his father’s frustrations from being unable to contend with anyone in court and having his strength go unused, objectively prolonging his lifespan.
But Zhao Xin strongly opposed relying on favoritism to break the rules.
No matter how flawed the rules might be, their lower limit was still higher than rule by individuals, allowing society to operate more harmoniously and stably.
Thus, he felt somewhat displeased with Consort Zhang, who had brought him the minor shock of being the most favored in the six palaces.
As a Zhaorong, she not only barged recklessly into Kunning Hall but also, upon seeing Empress Cao, the mistress of the rear palace, neither offered greetings nor performed the proper courtesies.
Instead, she fixed her large, sparkling eyes tightly on Empress Cao, her apricot-like cheeks slightly puffed as if anger might erupt from them at any moment.
It was as if Empress Cao owed her eight hundred strings of coins and hadn’t repaid them, making even such a beautiful face appear somewhat detestable upon prolonged observation.
Even in Zhao Xin’s previous life, a world that vigorously promoted equality for all, the organizational order of human society had not yet become so abstract that mid-level managers would fiercely confront the chairman.
Such matters, on a small scale, were signs of disunity and internal factionalism; on a larger scale, they could easily lead to internal turmoil within a company and cause external investors to lose confidence.
Unless, of course, one had already written a resignation letter and only intended to vent their grievances.
But for the profession of an imperial consort, there was no such thing as resigning voluntarily.
In Zhao Xin’s eyes, Consort Zhang had already become an “unstable” factor capable of causing trouble.
His father Zhao Zhen had already deposed one empress before…
And he had only just managed to bring the Cao family, that top-tier military lineage, onto the same boat.
Zhao Xin’s gaze shifted to Empress Cao, who was merely pressing her temples, her face somber and silent.
He had to find a way to suppress Consort Zhang’s arrogance.
The longer it lasted, the better—ideally, setting the rules straight in one go.
Little did he expect that before he could even devise a strategy, Consort Zhang burst into tears, crying out, “The Sage’s family originally came from military nobility, so why did Cao Ping use the Imperial Consort Kin quota to become the Second Prince’s Imperial Study Companion?”
Zhao Xin was first stunned, then alarmed—wait, you’re coming at me?!
Here’s how it happened.
After Zhao Xin proposed the eight categories for Imperial Study Companion positions, Zhao Zhen took it to heart immensely, even intending to establish it as a precedent.
Civil officials, military officers, Imperial Consort Kin, and the imperial clan—even he himself could only draw from these four categories.
Imperial Study Companions were selected from children of similar ages, so the bonds formed growing up together would undoubtedly be extraordinary.
Most crucially, everything was still malleable and could be shaped later.
When the time came for the transfer of power, these Imperial Study Companions could easily become leaders within their respective factions, helping the new emperor stabilize the situation.
Moreover, if one wanted to gauge a prince’s political leanings or observe his governance methods, one only needed to see how he treated his Imperial Study Companions.
If there were more sons, selecting Imperial Study Companions could serve as a powerful tool for stabilizing the court.
What Palace Attendants or Palace Administrators? They all had to take a backseat to Imperial Study Companions.
This was absolutely a stroke of genius!
Although Zhao Zhen still hesitated somewhat about empowering the imperial clan and military officers, his son had been taught by the Sacred Ancestor—a small trial wouldn’t hurt.
Besides, wasn’t he, the father, here to keep watch?
Zhao Zhen publicly claimed that the addition of Imperial Study Companion positions was because he pitied his son.
The civil officials observed that the Guanjia’s current stance was clear: you could oppose him, but not Prince Yu. Prince Yu was quite vindictive by nature—he even dared to scold the Grand Councilors, and what’s more, he won the arguments.
Thus, aside from a few censors still clamoring about “the ancestral laws must not be changed,” most merely symbolically expressed reluctant acceptance before promptly joining the recommendation ranks.
Seriously, Prince Yu’s current treatment differed from that of a crown prince only in the lack of an investiture ceremony.
Moreover, with three Grand Councilors attesting to his wisdom, divine insight, and decisive judgment, the investiture ceremony was bound to happen sooner or later.
So this wasn’t just selecting Imperial Study Companions—it was selecting future Grand Councilors!
It’s just that the proportion of civil officials’ descendants was a bit small; it really should have been half.
But both the Guanjia and Prince Yu firmly insisted on only this number, so they could only seek opportunities later to place their own people in the Eastern Palace.
Zhao Zhen had always been indecisive, especially now that he knew just how clever his precious son was. So, after conducting a preliminary screening of candidates, he simply sent the list to Zhao Xin and let him decide for himself.
Cao Ping, who held dual status as both Imperial Consort Kin and Military Nobility, was directly placed in the Imperial Consort Kin category by Zhao Xin, who had his own agenda.
It was a small attempt on his part to bolster the military officer faction.
Just as standing on two legs ensures stability, the essence of a ruler maintaining control lies in balance.
The tragedy of the Five Dynasties lay in an excess of martial virtue, where the soldiers were arrogant and domineering. Rebelling and killing military governors, intimidating the emperor, and humiliating officials were as natural to them as breathing. They acted like beasts preying on humans, committing every evil imaginable. From the common folk to the Purple Palace Hall, there was no one who did not despise and fear them.
In this dynasty, the status of military men was one of extreme suppression formed through joint efforts after a period of excessive indulgence. Numerous policies to suppress the military caused the status of soldiers to plummet to the lowest ranks, while unchecked civil officials even dared to spit in the emperor’s face.
In a word, both were distorted and unhealthy systems.
This dynasty’s act of “Relinquishing Military Power Over a Cup of Wine” was fundamentally flawed, which is why that ancestor later only deserved to be a footnote in history.
As for his great-grandfather, Zhao Xin was already contemplating how he would spit on the ancestral tablet when he visited the Imperial Ancestral Temple in the future.
In Zhao Xin’s view, if one lacked the confidence and means to control the civil and military officials under their command, and lacked the ability to ensure a soft landing for social order, then what was the point of being emperor?
Day after day, guarding against this and that, yet in the end, the Great Song Dynasty was terminated in an utterly humiliating and undignified manner!
It fell far short of the Great Tang.
And the one who became the casualty of Zhao Xin’s small, selfish scheme was none other than Zhang Jifu, the cousin of Consort Zhang.
When Consort Zhang heard the news that her cousin had failed to be selected while Cao Ping had been chosen, she was nearly consumed by rage.
She had pleaded with Guanjia for a long time just to get her cousin added to the list of candidates for Imperial Study Companion. Her hope and expectation were that her cousin would be selected, thereby elevating the family’s status and ensuring its enduring prominence. Perhaps they could even become the next Donglai Lü clan.
But in the end, he was not chosen.
If the final selections had been Li Wei and Zhang Shichang, she might have let it go.
One was Guanjia’s cousin, and the other was Prince Yu’s cousin. Both had stronger backing than her cousin and were the most rumored candidates likely to secure the Imperial Consort Kin Companion spots.
Yet, the final result was that Li Wei and Cao Ping obtained the Imperial Consort Kin Companion positions, while Zhang Shichang was left out.
Zhang Shichang’s failure could be attributed to Prince Yu’s practice of selecting the worthy while avoiding favoritism. Moreover, given Guanjia’s current level of care for his maternal relatives, it was certain that Prince Yu, upon ascending the throne, would not lack opportunities to bestow favors. Having or not having the Companion opportunity was not particularly important.
But Cao Ping could have used the military family quota and would undoubtedly have been selected!
Instead, he came to stir trouble among the Imperial Consort Kin candidates. Who could believe that the Empress had not meddled in this?
It must be the Empress, jealous of her favor with Guanjia, who persuaded Prince Yu!
As Guanjia’s most beloved woman, Consort Zhang understood his temperament well. Due to his helpless childhood and the experience of having his court authority controlled by Empress Dowager Zhangxian, that man had a deep sympathy for the weak.
If she voiced the injustice she suffered, she would at most receive some mild reprimands, and Guanjia would surely compensate her in the future.
The Empress, who had initially scolded her harshly, had now fallen into silence, as if accepting all the accusations.
Witnessing this, Consort Zhang raised her chin high, like a victorious little rooster.
Having repeatedly succeeded with this tactic, she began to ponder what compensation she should ask from Guanjia.
The best outcome would be for Cao Ping to be dismissed and her cousin to take his place.
However, despite all her calculations, she failed to anticipate that Zhao Xin, the person at the center of it all, was also in Kunning Hall. Moreover, in her overwhelming anger, she had overlooked that three-foot-tall child.
Zhao Xin broke free from Huirou’s hand holding his, stepped forward from the crowd, and declared clearly: “Consort Zhang, the list of my Imperial Study Companions was personally decided by Father with his golden words. Could it be that the Consort feels Father’s decision was not impartial enough, that he favored Her Majesty?”
Only then did Consort Zhang realize there were others present in Kunning Hall.
This child before her, who barely reached her waist, this one who called himself…
Consort Zhang was suddenly startled by her own thoughts, her face turning deathly pale, her entire body trembling like flower branches battered by a storm.
But Zhao Xin had no intention of letting her off. He continued: “And what if Father did favor Her Majesty? Husband and wife are one—this is only natural.
“Or perhaps Consort Zhang thinks that I, this prince, fail to recognize true talent, that I have buried the abilities of your cousin?”
“N-no, I wouldn’t dare. Guanjia and Your Highness are naturally… the most impartial people in this world,” Consort Zhang stammered, her lips trembling as she forced out the words.
This was Guanjia’s only son now, recognized by the Grand Councilors, the undisputed future Guanjia. Leaving a bad impression would not be good.
Zhao Xin’s smile turned somewhat cold: “The Consort had best know this in both heart and word.”
“I want to see Guanjia! I want to see Guanjia!” Without any warning, Consort Zhang slumped softly to the ground and began pounding the floor, weeping bitterly.
Empress Cao’s brows knitted together.
After all, she was still a consort-mother. If this spread, it would seem as though Second Brother had bullied her. She cleared her throat, preparing to settle the matter.
But Zhao Xin demonstrated with action what true confidence meant.
“Grand Official Zhang, since you’ve come, why not show yourself to Her Majesty and to me?”
Zhang Maoze, whose name had been called, stepped out from the crowd with a pained expression, looking as if he had just lost both parents.
Without any surprise, Zhang Maoze once again received the hottest potato.
“Grand Official Zhang, since the Consort wishes to see Father, I shall trouble you to escort her there.”