Although she had never met the man, the General Jingyuan estate was quite well-known in the capital. According to reports, the man had just turned thirty this year, had been married before—his first wife had died of illness, leaving behind two children.
“General Jingyuan has a solid reputation at court. I’ve met the man myself—tall and imposing, with exceptionally handsome features. Though he’s a bit older than you, he’s still powerful and influential. Marrying him wouldn’t be doing you any injustice,” said the Marchioness.
Though they were reluctant to see their precious daughter marry someone as a replacement wife, Ye Su’s age was awkward—she was well past the ideal marriage age. If she wasn’t to become someone’s second wife, the only alternative was to choose from among the imperial examination candidates.
Many candidates from impoverished families married late, having devoted themselves to their studies, only taking wives after earning their official rank.
But the imperial examination was held only once every three years, and the next one was still a year and a half away. Besides, Marquis Anle didn’t think highly of those candidates anyway—he always felt they were looking for a shortcut.
Everyone knew that marrying a noble daughter meant leveraging one’s in-laws’ resources for support, which could save at least twenty years of detours in one’s official career.
And as the Emperor’s maternal uncle and the elder brother of the current Empress Dowager, though he himself had no particular talents, he nevertheless had the ear of the two most powerful people in the realm.
Marquis Anle believed that truly capable men would have married early when they reached marriageable age—those left over were all scheming sorts.
He would rather marry his daughter to someone of equal standing as a second wife than emulate those families who made a spectacle of “catching grooms beneath the honor roll.”
“General Jingyuan—is that the general who was ordered by the late Emperor eight years ago to lead troops in putting down the Aghadan rebellion?” Ye Su seemed not to have heard her mother’s words, dredging the man up from distant memories as she frowned.
Marquis Anle nodded, unsurprised that his daughter had heard of General Jingyuan’s reputation.
The son-in-law candidate they’d been scouting for their daughter was naturally no good-for-nothing bearing only the empty title of general—the man had real ability.
“It’s him. His household is simple—only an elderly mother who spends her days in vegetarian fasting and prayer. The two young children are both from his late wife. They say he has two concubines, but neither is favored enough to stir up trouble. As long as they’re fed and given new clothes on schedule, that’s all they need.”
If the match could be made, given their daughter’s temperament, she wouldn’t suffer any losses.
Hearing that it was indeed this man, Ye Su immediately clutched her forehead in headache.
Ye Jiyu, who had been listening quietly from the side, noticed and asked, “Does sister not like this man?”
Marquis Anle also frowned. “What? Do you find him too old? He’s only eight years your senior. In terms of character and appearance, he’s second to none.”
Ye Su lowered her hand. “No, Father. This General Jingyuan—he’s Prince Kang’s man.”
Prince Kang’s man? Marquis Anle was first confused, then his face filled with shock.
“Prince Kang’s man? How do you know that?” Ye Jiyu pressed urgently.
Prince Kang was the late Emperor’s full younger brother by the same mother, and the current Emperor’s own uncle.
The late Emperor had been diligent in governing, but at the age of forty, he fell ill with what seemed like an unremarkable fever. Over the following six months, it gradually developed into an irreversible grave illness.
As the imperial physicians’ expressions grew more despairing by the day, the court was shaken. Officials rushed to submit memorials, urgently pressing for the designation of the next heir.
The late Emperor had not had many children—the surviving princes and princesses numbered barely a handful.
The Empress had passed away several years prior, and the legitimate second son had died young. Among the remaining princes, the eldest had originally been the most likely to succeed, but his reckless and perverse behavior had earned him his father’s disgust, and he had long since been stripped of his status and qualifications.
The third prince’s mother was a tribute woman sent from a foreign tribe—with her brown hair and deeply defined features that fully inherited her foreign bloodline, she had been viewed with suspicion since childhood and had never been favored.
That left the sixth prince, Jiang Zhaoyi.
Jiang Zhaoyi’s mother came from a marquis household, knew propriety and when to advance or retreat, and was quite favored by His Majesty. Jiang Zhaoyi himself had been clever and docile since childhood, often earning praise from the grand tutors.
However, there was one issue: he had been born frail. The imperial physicians concluded after diagnosis that he suffered from congenital deficiency and could only be carefully nurtured through daily care.
Each of the three princes had his own shortcomings, and the question of choosing an heir could not be resolved for a time.
Amid the hesitation, a faction of court officials actually submitted a memorial requesting the establishment of an Imperial Grand Uncle as heir—the candidate being Prince Kang.
Their reasoning was sound: Prince Kang and His Majesty were both legitimate sons born of the previous Emperor and Empress, and Prince Kang was renowned at court as a worthy prince with outstanding political achievements and capabilities.
At just twenty-five, Prince Kang was in the prime of his vigor. Compared to the various princes who each had their deficiencies, an heir like Prince Kang was what the court truly needed.
Yet no matter how outstanding Prince Kang was, how could the late Emperor consider his younger brother when he had sons of his own?
Though the sixth prince was sickly, the imperial physicians had long said that as long as he was properly nurtured, he would not easily die young.
At most, he was unsuited for martial arts, horseback riding, and archery—and being Emperor didn’t require those skills anyway.
After a period of covert struggle, with the loyalist faction exerting its strength, the young Jiang Zhaoyi was pushed to the forefront.
In the later stages of his illness, the late Emperor could not wait to completely eradicate Prince Kang’s faction. He left behind only an edict of succession before passing away.
After Jiang Zhaoyi ascended the throne, Prince Kang’s faction never fully ceased their activities, occasionally stirring up malicious trouble.
Because of his youth and poor health, he had no choice but to endure, and mother and son supported each other within the palace.
Fortunately, although he was born with a frail and sickly body, he was also blessed with an exceptionally sharp mind. In the first few years, he played weak against Prince Kang’s faction while quietly consolidating his power behind the scenes.
Within just a few years, Jiang Zhaoyi had secured his throne through his own efforts, and at the same time, he began showing signs of moving against Prince Kang’s faction.
General Jingyuan was one of Prince Kang’s men and would eventually be purged. Their Ye family was the emperor’s maternal relatives—how could the two families possibly be entangled together? Ye Su sighed.
“Su’er, how do you know that General Jingyuan is one of Prince Kang’s men? Could it be some unfounded rumor you heard somewhere?” Marquis Anle refused to give up.
Even he and others didn’t know this—how could Ye Su, a young woman of the inner chambers, possibly be aware of it?
But Ye Su shattered his hopes: “It was Jiang… His Majesty. I overheard it with my own ears when he was speaking with the eunuch by his side.”
She had almost called him by his given name directly. On any ordinary day, her father would have scolded her for disrespecting His Majesty—even if they had once been close cousins who played together as children, they were now separated by the boundary between sovereign and subject.
But clearly, the matter of General Jingyuan was far more important at the moment, and Marquis Anle set aside his daughter’s slip of the tongue, pressing urgently: “What happened?”
Glancing at the sky, Ye Su did not elaborate further, only reminding him: “If we don’t go to Grandmother’s place now, we’ll be late.”
At this hour, the Old Madame would have already risen. It would take them a full two quarters of an hour to walk over from the West Manor.
Helpless, Marquis Anle stamped his foot and turned to his wife: “There’s no rush for the marriage interview. When we see them today, act as if nothing was ever said. We’ll wait until we’ve gotten to the bottom of this.”
The Marchioness Anle quickly nodded: “Alright, I know what to do.” If General Jingyuan truly was one of Prince Kang’s men, then this marriage proposal was likely a calculated scheme by someone else.
It was a pity—when the General’s household had sent someone to sound out their intentions earlier, they had been quite pleased after discussing it. It was rare to find a family of matching status that wasn’t afraid of their daughter’s reputation for being a widow-bringer and dared to come propose.
Now it seemed there really was no good in it after all.
“If you ask me, that old madame of their household shouldn’t come either. What if His Majesty misunderstands?” the Marchioness said.
Marquis Anle shook his head: “Sending them away now would only make it look like we have something to hide. That won’t do. Just receive them as ordinary guests.”
As they spoke, the group filed out of the main courtyard in succession.
Although the East Manor and West Manor were two separate residences, they were situated right next to each other, connected by an arched gate so there was no need to go out through the main entrance.
Walking toward the arched gate connecting the two manors, Ye Su linked her arm through her mother’s, recalling the events of that year.