Before the late emperor fell gravely ill, Jiang Zhaoyi was merely an ordinary prince—one born frail and weak, with an unremarkable standing within the palace.
Because the Second Prince, Fourth Prince, Fifth Prince, and two princesses before him had all died under unclear circumstances, the late emperor worried that none of the remaining children would survive. Thus, apart from the eldest prince who had already grown to maturity, all the other princes and princesses were sent out of the palace to be raised elsewhere for a period of time.
From the ages of four to seven, Jiang Zhaoyi lived with his maternal family, the Ye household. His studies never lapsed, however, as the imperial tutors came to the residence daily to give him lessons.
During the years the princes and princesses were sent out of the palace, the late emperor thoroughly purged the entire imperial palace, reportedly clearing out a large number of palace attendants.
After being brought back to the palace at age seven, Jiang Zhaoyi still visited the Ye residence from time to time to see his grandmother and two maternal uncles.
When the late emperor fell gravely ill, Jiang Zhaoyi was only nine. Due to the succession crisis, he had left the palace only once that year, and even that rare visit was made to seek counsel from his uncles.
Ye Su was passing through the garden when she overheard voices. Circling around the rockery, she peered through the stones and saw Jiang Zhaoyi sitting in the pavilion.
Because of his poor health, since his first birthday he had always worn a longevity lock around his neck, two gold bangles on his wrists, and even the golden ribbons hanging from the small crown that tied his hair were embroidered with Buddhist blessing patterns—he looked just like a little golden boy.
Ye Su heard the eunuch telling him that General Jingyuan had won a great victory in putting down the rebellion and would soon return triumphantly to the capital.
This should have been good news, yet Jiang Zhaoyi, despite his joy, sounded somewhat dejected: “Once he’s back, he’ll surely advise Father to abdicate in favor of Uncle Prince Kang.”
The eunuch was momentarily at a loss for words. Looking at His Highness’s perpetually pale little face, he wanted to say that General Jingyuan had never openly voiced support for Prince Kang in court, and that His Highness was likely overthinking things.
But Jiang Zhaoyi said that when General Jingyuan had been summoned for a private audience with the Emperor, he had personally spoken well of Uncle Prince Kang—and Jiang Zhaoyi had been standing in the rear hall at the time, hearing it clearly with his own ears.
Thirteen-year-old Ye Su listened as she drew closer. The sound of her footsteps drew Jiang Zhaoyi’s wary attention. He stood up with a tense little face, about to order someone to seize the intruder, when he realized it was her.
He visibly relaxed, then demanded with annoyance: “You were eavesdropping on our conversation?”
As he spoke, his breathing grew a bit rapid, and a flush of red rose on his sickly pale face.
Ye Su crossed her arms and shot back: “You were talking so loudly that I could hear you from outside the garden. How is that my fault? If you don’t want people to hear, find a more secluded spot.”
In truth, Jiang Zhaoyi’s voice wasn’t loud at all—Ye Su just had exceptionally sharp ears. But she would never admit to that. If there was fault to be found, it had to be Jiang Zhaoyi’s.
Left speechless by her retort, he realized that discussing such matters in the garden was indeed not cautious enough. This was a critical moment in the power struggle between Prince Kang’s faction and his father. Fortunately, the one who had come was only Ye Su.
“You can’t tell anyone what you just heard.” He coughed twice, then could only say this much.
The eunuch beside him hurriedly offered a cup of hot tea.
General Jingyuan might still have reservations and hadn’t openly sided with Prince Kang—the court all believed him to be neutral. Since that was the case, no one else could know about this. He hadn’t even told his uncles.
Ye Su looked displeased: “You, you, you—Jiang Zhaoyi, you don’t even call me cousin when you see me now? Then why should I listen to you?”
Jiang Zhaoyi clenched his fists in anger, wishing he could land a couple of solid punches on her.
But years of experience told him he was no match for her—she was a full four years older than him.
Unlike others who were always mindful of his frail health, Ye Su had no such qualms. She would even take advantage of the fact that he was too sickly to fight her and strike without mercy.
When force fails, one must yield. Jiang Zhaoyi had no choice but to “swallow his pride” and call out: “Third Cousin.”
Then he added: “You can’t tell anyone.” Still referring to the matter of General Jingyuan.
Ye Su was satisfied and naturally agreed. And indeed, in all the years since, she had never mentioned it to anyone.
If her parents hadn’t brought up that person today, she might have forgotten all about it.
…
It took two quarters of an hour to walk to the Eastern Compound. Ye Su was very familiar with the layout of the Eastern Compound—after all, she had lived in this very residence until she was fourteen.
The Old Madame was still alive, and the one who had inherited the title of Marquis Jiayuan was Ye Su’s eldest uncle. Her father, as the second legitimate son, had still lived with his family in the marquis’s residence at the time.
It wasn’t until Jiang Zhaoyi ascended the throne and enfeoffed her father as Marquis Anle, granting him the neighboring residence, that their family moved out.
When the family arrived at Shoukang Courtyard, the room was already lively—laughter could be heard before they even entered. The moment they stepped inside, all eyes turned toward them.
Seated at the very center was the Old Madame, the highest-ranking figure of the entire Ye household, and Ye Su’s grandmother.
Her eldest uncle was absent. Her aunt, the Marchioness of Jiayuan, sat at the lower left, leaning toward the Old Madame in conversation. On both sides sat Ye Su’s elder male cousins and their wives, as well as her two younger female cousins.
The Old Madame, now seventy years old, had hair that was more than half white, yet her spirits were remarkably high—her eyes bright, her complexion rosy, and she laughed heartily from time to time, surrounded and entertained by the crowd.
“Mother, Second Brother and his family are here.” Seeing the newcomers, the Marchioness of Jiayuan said with a smile.
“Greetings to Mother.” Marquis Anle led the way as he knelt, and the younger generation, including Ye Su, had no choice but to kneel and pay their respects as well.
Old Madame quickly gestured for the elderly maid behind her to help them up: “No need for such formalities, just as usual is fine.”
Rising to his feet, Marquis Anle smiled and said, “Today is Mother’s seventieth birthday—how could it be the same as usual?”
With that, he waved toward the outside, and soon two servants carried in a chest, setting it down in front: “This is the birthday gift I prepared for Mother. Inside are precious medicinal herbs I sent someone to gather from Fuzhou half a year ago, for your daily health and nourishment.”
Old Madame had seen every fine thing imaginable; what pleased her was her son’s thoughtfulness. Hearing this, she nodded and said good repeatedly.
Next came Ye Jiyu, as the eldest grandson of the Western Manor. He presented the birthday gift on behalf of his wife and himself, and after he withdrew, it was Ye Su’s turn.
She took the item she had prepared long ago from Hongyu’s hands, stepped forward, and offered it with both hands: “Grandmother, this is a Buddhist sutra that your granddaughter personally copied after bathing and fasting at Huguo Temple a few days ago.”
Old Madame was a devout Buddhist, and even had a small Buddhist shrine in Shoukang Courtyard. This sutra was several thousand characters long, and not a single mistake could be made. She had copied it diligently for several days, and her wrist still ached faintly even now.
Seeing her, Old Madame’s smile paused slightly. After a long moment, she asked with concern, “Has there been any progress on your marriage lately?” Then she looked toward Marchioness Anle, the mother.
It had to be said that Ye Su’s marriage prospects had become a lingering worry for the entire Ye family. Old Madame inquired about it several times every month.
Marchioness Anle was already accustomed to handling this: “To answer Mother, the Marquis and I have been keeping an eye out. The moment we find someone suitable, we will certainly report back to Mother.”
This answer did not satisfy Old Madame: “This can no longer be delayed.”
“Yes, yes.” Marchioness Anle nodded repeatedly.
After handing the item to the elderly maid nearby, Ye Su stood to the side, eyes downcast, breathing steadily, as if she were not the center of the topic at all.
After all, today was not a day for idle chatter. Marchioness of Jiayuan had to manage the affairs of the entire household, and as she left, she also pulled Ye Su’s mother along to help.
Taking advantage of Old Madame’s attention on the two grandsons from the Western Manor whom she had not seen for days, Ye Su seized the opportunity to slip into a corner.
Time passed quickly as the family chatted. When word came from the front that guests had begun to arrive, Old Madame announced that everyone should disperse.
The men went to the front courtyard to receive family friends and officials, as well as fellow classmates and close acquaintances, while the wives and young mistresses entertained the various female guests in the inner quarters.
Even unmarried young ladies like Ye Su, as members of the host family, were responsible for receiving the daughters of the visiting households.
Just as Ye Su was about to leave with her younger female cousins, Old Madame called out to stop her: “Su’er, stay here and keep your grandmother company.”
Ye Su groaned inwardly but dared not refuse. Turning around with a beaming smile, she said, “Then Granddaughter will stay and keep Grandmother company.”
Old Madame nodded with satisfaction, beckoned her over to sit beside her, and took her hand to examine her carefully before saying affectionately, “You just sit in your grandmother’s room and don’t go anywhere. Let’s receive the ladies together.”
Ye Su sighed inwardly. She knew her grandmother actually wanted to bolster her standing in front of everyone, to show outsiders that she was deeply favored by the elders, and to do her best to secure a good marriage for her.
Ye Su felt helpless, but she could only accept this kindness.