July, the blazing sun scorched everything.
Cicadas shrieked piercingly from the treetops, and the willow shade hung thick like green clouds. Shang Fuqu, dressed in the green lotus-embroidered dress her mother had rushed to sew overnight, stood beneath the palace walls with a crowd of unfamiliar beauties, sheltering from the heat.
The Emperor was holding a consort selection, and they were all the chosen daughters of good families.
Only, the appointed time had long passed, and still there was no movement.
Shang Fuqu quietly scrolled through the novel The Favored Consort on her mental screen.
This mental screen had appeared in her mind one year out of nowhere. Besides fanfiction, it also held all sorts of scattered, bizarre books. She didn’t understand what ”fanfiction” meant, but the supporting character in one of them—who met a miserable end—had the exact same name as hers.
[This was the third time Zhao had been demoted to a lowly cairen and thrown into the Cold Palace. Pale-faced, she recalled the Emperor’s lofty, handsome, and heartless countenance. Through tear-blurred eyes, her heart still ached…]
Pure, unadulterated melodrama.
Just as she reached an exciting part and her heart was racing, something suddenly slammed into her back. Shang Fuqu nearly toppled over.
She was still wondering who had such bad eyes when the other girl’s voice cut across first.
“Are you blind? Do you have any idea that this dress was made stitch by stitch over several months by an embroidery shop I paid a fortune for? Could you even afford to pay for it if it’s ruined?”
The first stage of the selection was appearance.
Beauty decided the first impression. Anyone standing here had been selected from among thousands in their prefectures—each one a beauty in ten thousand.
The girl was delicately gorgeous. Having finished speaking, she shot a quick glance at Shang Fuqu before her.
The young woman before her had delicate, refined features and eyes like clear water. Her ebony hair was pinned up with only a few pearl hairpins, and the sliver of neck she revealed was long and fair, like a lotus blossom in a pond—utterly plain and unadorned.
“She reeks of poverty.”
Muttering this with barely concealed contempt, the girl turned and walked straight into the crowd of beauties whose attire clearly marked them as wealthy. Apparently she still understood why she was here, and didn’t dare truly cause trouble.
Shang Fuqu was just recovering her senses when another slender hand rested on her shoulder.
“Little sister.”
A scholarly-looking girl in a pale yellow dress smiled at her warmly. She was tall and graceful—even standing amid all this riot of color, she stood out like a crane among chickens.
“Don’t take it to heart, little sister,” the girl said gently, plucking a snow-white jade hairpin flower and tucking it into Shang Fuqu’s hair. “You have such an ethereal elegance—this jade hairpin flower only makes you look even more lovely.”
This scene… felt strangely familiar?
Studying the girl before her, Shang Fuqu stepped forward and asked tentatively, “Thank you for comforting me, miss. May I ask your name?”
“Zhao Shuran.”
Zhao… Zhao Shuran?
With a buzz, Shang Fuqu’s brain crashed.
Fuqu wasn’t an uncommon name—girls named after flowers were a dime a dozen, so she had never thought much of it before.
But Zhao Shuran was different.
Could everything in that book actually be true?
She found herself swinging back and forth between the realization that the girl before her was the future Consort who would reign gloriously, favored above all in the harem—and that she herself was destined to die a miserable death. Shock and doubt warred within her.
Just then, a eunuch holding a horsetail whisk descended the stone steps nearby. Round-faced and smiling, he looked quite jovial. “Ladies, please return home for now and await the imperial edict.”
Under the selection rules of Great Chen, the matrons had already instructed them before entering the palace. The formal investiture was still days away; in the meantime, they were to continue learning the rules and wait.
The thought that the Empress Dowager had finally gotten her way made Eunuch Qi’s smile grow even broader. “The ladies’ ranks will be announced within the next few days. For now, please return home first…”
Before the words had even finished, a matron who had just emerged from the inner room suddenly spoke up to interrupt.
“Her Majesty the Empress Dowager says she may go in and settle in right away. Her rank will be assigned after supper.”
Qi froze for a moment and looked at her.
As the Empress Dowager’s trusted confidant, he knew how eager she was about this matter—but he hadn’t expected her to be this eager…
Meeting his gaze, Tao replied in a lowered voice.
“If we wait any longer, His Majesty will be back.”
A cooked duck can still fly away.
…
Shang Fuqu didn’t know what the previous selection had been like, but this time it felt like being forced onto the stage before she was ready.
That woman had been right about one thing.
She was indeed not from a great noble house, but her family was comfortably well-off. Her father had spent most of his life as a calligraphy teacher in the southern lands.
The household was simple. Though there were concubines and half-siblings, everyone lived ordinary, uneventful lives—no drama or schemes to speak of.
The Empress Dowager had only been testing the waters this time, so the number of girls entering the palace was small, and each could have her own palace residence. Because of Shang Fuqu’s humble background, the quarters assigned to her were both remote and cramped. Even the cicadas’ song sounded distant and faint—desolate and pitiful.
Xiaodie, the maid who had grown up with her, grumbled as she arranged the bedding, “Miss, this is all so sudden. Thank goodness we packed everything before we left. Those girls whose families are here in the capital probably thought they’d get to go home for another visit.”
Shang Fuqu nodded.
The advantage of coming from far away was having everything in one trip.
Looking at the unfamiliar servant girls in the courtyard, she asked quietly, “Does Elder Sister know?”
The one who had escorted her to the capital this time was her own elder sister, Shang Pingting. A few years ago, while burning incense at a temple, she had fallen for a poor scholar. The family had disapproved at first, but after much fuss, they let her marry him.
The scholar had come to the capital this year for the reexamination, so they traveled together.
“That matron just now said someone would pass word to family outside, and Eldest Miss is in the capital anyway, so it’s convenient. We just don’t know what rank you’ll receive, Miss.” Xiaodie’s face was full of anticipation.
Her young lady was the prettiest girl in the family, with a good temperament besides—she’d eat whatever was cooked, could catch cicadas up in the trees and scoop fish out of the water.
On the way here, she had already secretly sized up the other girls, and her miss was in no way inferior to any of them.
Shang Fuqu promptly dashed her hopes. “Obviously the lowest rank—caiyu, of course.”
Her family had never counted on her entering the palace to win wealth and glory.
Her mother had already scouted out a suitable match for her and was planning to discuss the betrothal at year’s end—then this accident had come crashing down and shattered everything.
It was clear the Empress Dowager was truly in a hurry. Before supper had even arrived, the imperial edict came down.
Sure enough—caiyu.
Better than making the top of the list. Solid!
Tao, whom she had met earlier, kindly offered a word of advice, “When His Majesty returns, the register will naturally be brought before him for review. If he takes a fancy to anyone, a lantern will be taken down, and that girl will stay the night.”
According to the rules of Great Chen, a consort hung a lantern outside her own palace. If the Emperor was interested, he would send his personal attendant ahead to take the lantern down, signaling that he would come that night. If a consort was unwell or ill, she need not hang a lantern.
Tao remembered Shang Fuqu.
Earlier, a crowd of beauties had stood under the blazing sun until they were dizzy and pale. Only this caiyu had been full of energy—clearly lively and robust.
And when disputes arose, she had remained perfectly composed, keeping her cool despite her youth.
So, Tao rather liked her.
Shang Fuqu, who only appeared composed because she was actually absorbed in her book, glanced up at the sky outside, which had begun to darken.
At this hour?
Doesn’t he stop for a steamed bun first?
Or maybe… the Emperor has to order dishes while flipping through a register of names?
Perhaps sensing her expression, Tao’s eyelid twitched. “Our Emperor is… diligent in state affairs.”
(Content warning below)