“Leave the door open.”
Late at night, Zhaohua Yuan remained brightly lit. The chief eunuch Yi Ji, fearing the evening breeze might disturb His Majesty, intended to order the main gate closed but was stopped by the emperor.
Outside Zhaohua Yuan stood several osmanthus trees, tribute trees that palace craftsmen had painstakingly transplanted from Jiangnan years ago. In the cool autumn season, their sweet fragrance drifted in, quite delightful.
Yi Ji stopped by the door but remained active in thought. He summoned two junior eunuchs to quietly position a silk gauze screen to block the wind while still allowing the night’s refreshing coolness to permeate.
After completing these tasks, Yi Ji silently positioned himself in a corner, awaiting His Majesty’s commands.
These past few days, the emperor had been exceptionally diligent, often reviewing memorials late into the night. He no longer enjoyed banter with them, nor did he display anger easily. While the previous emperor had been unpredictable in mood, his emotions were always visible on his face, allowing those serving closely to navigate carefully and avoid misfortune. Now that His Majesty concealed his feelings, it made their service more challenging.
The four chief eunuchs—Yi Ji, Two-Dog, San Mao, and another—had deliberated for days before Yi Ji, as their leader, decided:
“Keep quiet, keep hands to ourselves, and serve carefully. We are but livestock raised in the emperor’s hands. What His Majesty gives, we receive with gratitude; what he doesn’t give, we do not seek.”
With this resolution, all eunuchs from the four chiefs downward exercised ten times more caution than before.
After comparing the memorials with the Grand Secretariat’s drafts, Shen Shiqing slowly exhaled and finally looked up.
She had to admit that Emperor Zhaode’s body was far healthier than her own. Sitting through a day of reviewing memorials only left her slightly tired. Had it been her original body, after painting for an hour or reading for two without rest, it would certainly have been unbearable.
Seeing the emperor set down his brush, Yi Ji tentatively asked, “Your Majesty, would you like to bathe today?”
Shen Shiqing was momentarily taken aback.
For the past two days, she hadn’t dared to look down during bathroom visits, let alone bathing…
Fortunately, having endured seven years of neglect in the Xie Family, Shen Shiqing had developed a resilient disposition. Considering that Emperor Zhaode, now inhabiting her body, wouldn’t refrain from bathing indefinitely, she composed herself.
Since bathing was inevitable—she would bathe his body as he would bathe hers.
Fair enough.
Comforted by this thought, she nodded. “It is time to bathe.”
In the steaming rosewood bathtub, Shen Shiqing tilted her head back, pretending to rest, to avoid looking downward.
Several chief eunuchs personally removed the outer robe and rolled up their sleeves to wash “Emperor Zhaode.”
His long hair was let down and soaked separately in a basin for washing. San Mao carefully combed and washed the emperor’s “dragon strands” with a fine-toothed comb.
Shen Shiqing’s gaze swept over the chief eunuchs. Having been “emperor” for three days, she had gained some understanding of them.
The Director of Ceremonial Directorate, Yi Ji, had a refined, scholarly appearance and was the eldest among them, around thirty years old. He was the most steady and was regarded as the leader by the other three, making him the emperor’s most trusted chief eunuch.
The Scribe of Ceremonial Directorate, Two-Dog, looked the least like a eunuch, resembling instead a military man in his mid-twenties—lean, with long limbs, truly handsome and robust.
San Mao, the Director of the Imperial Kitchen, was responsible for managing the minute details of the Zhaode Emperor’s daily life—clothing, food, lodging, and transportation. He had a plump and dignified appearance, with large eyes, and would always smile before speaking. After a while, he truly resembled a plump white cat. Among the group, he was the most fond of joking and amusing the Zhaode Emperor.
Four-Rat, ranked last, was the shortest in stature, with a fair and delicate appearance. His voice seemed softer than the others’, and his position was the lowest—merely an attendant eunuch in the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs. Yet, the Zhaode Emperor bypassed Yi Ji and Two-Dog to entrust him with the management of the Eastern Depot.
These four individuals were extremely humble, whether in the presence of the Emperor or when dealing with external officials, often referring to themselves as lowly creatures. It was evident that the Zhaode Emperor frequently scolded them as “chickens and dogs.” However, their personal belongings were all exquisite, mostly bestowed by the Emperor. In the Imperial Presence, they spoke and acted with ease and familiarity. It was clear that, although the Zhaode Emperor was verbally harsh toward them, he trusted, employed, and rewarded them, granting them considerable power.
From this, Shen Shiqing gradually pieced together an image of the Zhaode Emperor’s way of dealing with people and affairs—unpredictable in temperament, fond of grandiose achievements as a ruler, and adept at recognizing talent and employing a mix of kindness and authority as a master… Beyond his autocratic and domineering nature, he likely possessed a youthful spontaneity and informality in private interactions.
After repeatedly pondering and analyzing the dispositions of the Emperor and his four servants, Shen Shiqing felt more assured when speaking with them:
“Has anything interesting happened these past few days?”
Hearing His Majesty casually utter such words, the eyes of the chicken, dog, cat, and rat all lit up.
San Mao, who was washing the Emperor’s hair, grinned until his eyes narrowed into slits: “Your Majesty, what would you like to do? These past few days, the maple trees on Tashan have turned red and are quite a sight. If Your Majesty is willing to move about, this servant can find some wrestlers to grapple in the maple grove for your entertainment. If Your Majesty finds it too noisy, we can find some musicians to sing in the woods—heard but not seen. Also, the wind has picked up over the lake; it would be lovely to have two teams of young lads race dragon boats for Your Majesty.”
When it came to food, drink, and amusement, San Mao couldn’t help but grow increasingly enthusiastic. If he hadn’t remembered he was washing the Emperor’s hair, his cat-like paws would have danced up to the sky.
Beside him, Yi Ji coughed lightly. The current Emperor was different from usual, and if San Mao became carried away and crossed a line, they wouldn’t even dare to plead for mercy.
Reminded by Yi Ji, San Mao froze in place.
He stole a glance at the Emperor, only to see His Majesty with eyes half-closed, as if enjoying himself.
No anger?!
San Mao breathed a sigh of relief and grew a bit bolder. Gently massaging the Emperor’s scalp with his fingers, he smiled again and said:
“Your Majesty, it’s been days since you last spoke to this servant. Today, you suddenly asked, and this servant was so overjoyed that I rambled on. I deserve punishment—please kick this servant’s rear.”
Kick his rear?
Having been steeped in poetry and literature since childhood and never having laid a hand on her own maids, Shen Shiqing had never considered such a “punishment” existed.
After a moment’s thought, Shen Shiqing replied as if casually:
“Noted for now.”
“Absolutely! This servant has noted it—this rear of mine still owes Your Majesty a kick!”
Outwardly, Shen Shiqing remained expressionless, but inwardly, she made a mental note: she needed to learn how to kick someone’s rear.
She had learned how to tell people to “get lost,” how to make people wait, how to make people fear her, and now she had to learn how to kick someone’s rear.
Being an emperor wasn’t easy either.
Emperor Zhaode disliked having palace maids attend to him, which worked to Shen Shiqing’s advantage. Although she now inhabited a man’s body, precisely because it was a male form, she preferred eunuchs touching her rather than palace maids.
Facing a full-length bronze mirror, Shen Shiqing slowly turned her gaze left, then slowly right, feeling too embarrassed to look directly at the center.
In the bronze mirror, San Mao and Four-Rat were wringing moisture from “his” long hair with silk cloths.
Emperor Zhaode Zhao Su Rui was exceptionally handsome in appearance, with a tall and athletic build. At this moment, “he” wore only undergarments, and through the thin fabric, Shen Shiqing felt she could discern the contours of Emperor Zhaode’s chest and abdominal muscles.
Reciting “do not look at what is contrary to propriety” in her mind, she lowered her eyes.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
There were rather too many aspects of this man’s body that constituted “contrary to propriety.”
“It’s fine. You’re looking at him, but he’ll have to look at you too. What goes around comes around—this doesn’t count as taking advantage of someone’s misfortune.”
After repeating this to herself several times, Shen Shiqing opened her eyes.
The man in the mirror also opened his eyes.
With hair flowing down, clothing thin, and posture unrestrained… Shen Shiqing’s gaze carefully traced the contours of the body that now belonged to her, from the solid, powerful arms to the sharply defined chest and abdomen.
Finally, she couldn’t help raising a hand to cover the corner of her mouth.
Three days had passed since her soul transference into this body. She had been cautious and meticulous throughout, but at this moment, she suddenly felt she had come out ahead.
Not because she had transformed overnight from a destitute, discarded woman into the exalted ruler of a nation.
Nor because she was now surrounded by countless smiling, fawning faces, able to decide others’ life and death with a single word.
But because with such physical prowess and such an identity, she could do what she wanted, see the sights she wished to see, and feel the winds she desired to feel.
For the first time in seven years, Shen Shiqing truly felt a sense of freedom.
It had been so long.
In the carved jade-inlaid full-length bronze mirror, the peerlessly handsome young emperor curved his lips into a smile.
“Yi Ji.”
“Your Majesty, your servant is here.”
“These past few days, why haven’t I seen a single memorial pleading for Chen Shouzhang?”
Yi Ji bowed slightly and cautiously replied, “Your Majesty, all memorials pleading for Chen Shouzhang have been retained by the Grand Secretariat. They intended to present them together with the official reports after Chen Shouzhang is escorted to the capital.”
In truth, they were afraid of provoking Your Majesty’s wrath again, preventing Chen Shouzhang from being sent directly to the execution ground as soon as he entered the capital.
“Hmm… So these past few days, no one has submitted a memorial stating they believe Chen Shouzhang deserves death?”
Yi Ji paused, then said quietly, “Your Majesty, there have been a few.”
Shen Shiqing understood perfectly.
Meaning most court officials believed Chen Shouzhang’s arguments were reasonable and that he shouldn’t be executed under any circumstances.
Over these past few days, she had read Chen Shouzhang’s memorial no less than ten times.
In terms of writing style alone, Chen Shouzhang had expressed himself with remarkable frankness.
Since the great victory against Moxi last year, Emperor Zhaode’s prestige had grown daily. Even she, an ordinary woman confined to the inner chambers, knew Emperor Zhaode was only interested in two things—warfare and pleasure.
When it comes to indulgence, there’s no need to say more. Nearly half of the West Garden where she now resided had been constructed after his ascension to the throne, and the various exotic animals bred there were all collected by him from across the land. It was said that his favorite pastime had been riding elephants through the gardens. The reason the Zhaode Emperor had once again retreated into the West Garden, refusing to see his ministers, was that he intended to build a “Hundred Entertainments Street” within it, where eunuchs and palace maids would impersonate commoners for his amusement.
What could one say? Compared to the Zhaode Emperor, Shen Shiqing felt even the last emperor of the previous dynasty could be considered frugal, honest, and unskilled in the art of pleasure.
To fund his campaigns, the Zhaode Emperor had continuously deployed massive armies to the northwest, squandering immeasurable wealth and exhausting countless lives. Last year’s so-called great victory, claimed to involve 300,000 imperial troops, had nearly emptied the state treasury.
According to Chen Shouzhang’s memorial, to support His Majesty’s personal campaigns, regions not only repeatedly increased taxes but also conscripted forced labor. The people along the Yellow River suffered unbearably, many abandoning their fields to seek refuge with local gentry who were exempt from taxes. Although this year’s harvests were abundant everywhere, the lives of the common people did not improve. With more grain collected, the taxes demanded also increased. In Chen Shouzhang’s region alone, six new taxes had been imposed this year, including the “Western Campaign Tax,” “Barbarian Suppression Tax,” “Troop Training Tax,” “Military Provisions Tax”… The people, overwhelmed by the burden, were actually abandoning their fields and fleeing during the autumn harvest.
In his memorial, Chen Shouzhang admonished the Zhaode Emperor that as the ruler of a nation, he should not focus solely on militarism. He ought to learn from the previous emperor and the former crown prince, striving to become a benevolent sovereign who governs with wisdom and allows the people to recuperate.
To the Zhaode Emperor, who was single-mindedly pursuing unparalleled military achievements, Chen Shouzhang’s memorial was akin to poking a tiger’s backside. He ordered Chen Shouzhang’s arrest, repeatedly declaring his intent to execute him—likely not an empty threat.
Based on Shen Shiqing’s limited understanding of the Zhaode Emperor, since he desired to campaign in the northwest again next year, he would tolerate no dissenting voices in the court.
Now that she had become the Zhaode Emperor, what choice should she make?
If she spared Chen Shouzhang, she feared that once she and the Zhaode Emperor switched back, she would be executed for the crime of “breathing without permission.”
Shen Shiqing twitched her fingers, instinctively wanting to touch the silver hairpin on her head, but then gently clenched her hand.
“Tomorrow, summon all those who believe Chen Shouzhang deserves death into the palace. I wish to see them.”
Gazing at the indifferent expression of the “Zhaode Emperor” in the bronze mirror, Shen Shiqing formed a plan in her heart.
Wasn’t the Zhaode Emperor fond of killing? If she eliminated a few individuals even more deserving of death than Chen Shouzhang, wouldn’t that be enough to appease his anger?