Xie Zhihang jolted at her words.
It had come—the moment of truth when the celestial maiden would test him. She had been waiting for this.
Fortunately, he had prepared in advance.
“Let me show you something.”
Xie Zhihang took her hand and led her to a double-sided screen nearby. The side facing the bed was embroidered with common lakeside scenery, which she had glanced at before without paying much attention. But the other side revealed a completely different world. On this side was embroidered a woman clutching her chest with delicately furrowed willow-leaf eyebrows, accompanied by an exceptionally elegant and lavish poem overflowing with praises.
Before this, Xie Zhihang had never pursued women.
What he pursued was power, a stronger nation, and the peaceful livelihood of his people.
So he could only experiment with different approaches.
To avoid arousing Yun Jiao’s suspicion, Xie Zhihang needed to justify his sudden affection with an explanation.
This screen and the poem praising her beauty were his “justification.”
He had fallen in love with her at first sight, consumed by longing.
Thus emerged an ancient-style flattering poem personally composed by the Emperor and polished by his advisors.
The portrait of the beauty was created by a court painter.
“Uh…”
This kind of artistry felt too archaic for a modern person like Yun Jiao, who didn’t immediately grasp its meaning.
But since it depicted a woman and the poem contained numerous references to “beauty,” drawing from her elementary school experience of deciphering classical Chinese texts, she recognized it as an ode to a beautiful woman.
Combined with her years of reading “white moonlight” literature, she finally understood.
Yun Jiao lifted her face with a solemn expression.
“Your Majesty, this concubine understands your meaning.”
Xie Zhihang looked down at her, their eyes meeting: “I adore the maiden in this painting immensely. It’s good that you understand my feelings.”
Understand? Oh, she understood perfectly.
As an expert viewer of “Empresses in the Palace” and seasoned reader of substitute romance novels, what couldn’t Yun Jiao comprehend? The Emperor treated her so well precisely because she resembled the girl in the portrait: “This concubine understands. It is also this concubine’s fortune.”
Yun Jiao didn’t mind being a substitute at all.
She considered it a tremendous bargain—while the previous lover planted the tree, she enjoyed the shade. Though she might lack the Emperor’s genuine love, what she gained was a life of good food, fine drinks, and comfortable rest!
“I originally feared you might hold reservations…”
From an ancient perspective, falling in love with a woman at first sight, having her portrait embroidered on a screen, and composing such romantic and passionate poetry would be considered rather bold. Mindful of this, the advisors had tempered the poem’s wording, making it more implicit, comparing Consort Xi to a celestial goddess from dreams—a bright moon that could be admired from afar but not possessed.
Yun Jiao: “How could that be? This concubine is very pleased.”
Excellent! They were on the same wavelength!
Before this, Xie Zhihang had pondered extensively.
But it never occurred to him that the celestial maiden might not understand the content of his poem.
After that night, the Emperor summoned Yun Jiao for five consecutive days.
Previous privileges and preferential treatment had been superficial, but now she was genuinely favored. Even the imperial court heard about how Consort Xi from Xianfu Palace enjoyed deep imperial favor, overshadowing even Shufei.
Since the imperial court had no direct contact with the inner palace, the Yun family suddenly became the center of attention.
Yun Jiao’s father held the position of a seventh-rank Registrar in the Imperial Academy, typically handling trivial tasks and overseeing assessments and expenditures. Due to his lack of skill in cultivating connections, he had long been an inconspicuous presence in the Academy. Now, because of his daughter, he found himself thrust into the limelight within official circles.
After all, matters of the inner court were not something officials could openly inquire about.
Noblewomen, however, had no such reservations. Invitations to gatherings that would never have included Madam Yun before were now extended to the Yun residence, urging her to share stories about Consort Xi. Stewards bearing invitations flocked to the Yun residence, turning its gates into a bustling scene. This left Madam Yun deeply troubled—delighted for her daughter yet anxious on her behalf. “Jiaojiao is naive,” she fretted. “Since entering the palace, she has gained the Emperor’s deep favor and is bound to become a target. I never taught her the intricacies of inner-court struggles… I never imagined she would rise to such heights.”
“What’s the use of saying this now? You didn’t teach her before.”
“Was it that I didn’t want to? The legitimate daughter of a seventh-rank official could only marry into a modest household, where she’d be the proper mistress and wouldn’t need to engage in scheming—just managing the household would suffice. And you—why didn’t you teach your daughter how to deal with others’ plots? You must have some experience with the overt and covert conflicts in official circles.”
Madam Yun’s words left Yun’s father speechless.
After a long silence, he muttered, “My colleagues in the Imperial Academy don’t engage in harmful deeds.”
“That’s because your rank is low and there’s no benefit to be gained. Not only do you not stand in anyone’s way, but others treat you politely to show they respect their subordinates. Now that Jiaojiao has risen, she’s blocking the paths of daughters of third-rank officials. Just think about it.”
After much deliberation, the family concluded that they shouldn’t aspire to rise through their daughter’s success but should instead strive not to cause her any trouble.
A young woman without a powerful family background navigating the inner court alone was no easy feat.
Their concerns were not unfounded. With Yun Jiao gaining favor in the inner court, some consorts who couldn’t immediately find a way to bring her down turned to indirect methods—digging pitfalls for her family.
For inner court consorts, while a powerful family might make the Emperor cautious in his dealings with them, family troubles could genuinely drag them down.
Some went to great lengths to try and brand Yun Jiao as the daughter of a disgraced official but found it surprisingly difficult.
Yun’s father held an insignificant sinecure, after all.
The smaller the ability, the lighter the responsibility—he simply hadn’t managed to commit any major blunders.
If there was any tranquility in the palace, it was only because her family shouldered the burdens, adding further hardships to Yun’s father’s already challenging official career. The consorts feared that causing trouble before the Autumn Hunt would displease the Emperor and lead to their exclusion, so even Yanxi Palace remained inactive.
When the list of attendees for the Autumn Hunt was finally released, the entire inner court breathed a sigh of relief.
The tension that had been building could finally be released!
…
On the list, both the Empress and Shufei were included, while Jingfei remained to oversee the palace.
The selection among the consorts was the most surprising—only Li Pin made the cut. Feng Pin, who had never been particularly favored, was unsurprisingly excluded, but Consort Wei was also left behind, with the reason given that “the princess is too young to endure the rigors of travel, and her mother should remain in the palace to accompany her.”
Consort Ji, who was also on the list, was seen as a result of Shufei’s influence.
Among the entire list, the lowest-ranking Consort Xi’s inclusion surprised no one—
The Emperor had personally gone to Xianfu Palace to coax her; what was there to be surprised about? Unless Consort Xi herself met with some mishap!
This thought lingered in the minds of a small few.
Three days before the departure for the Autumn Hunt, a young eunuch from Consort Ji’s retinue intercepted Xue Ya on her way back to Xianfu Palace when no one was around:
“Miss Xue Ya, Her Ladyship sent me to pass on a message.”
“Do not walk in secluded areas. Be extremely cautious in all matters.”