Chapter 82
Chapter 82
Only then did Zhu Yin learn what sort of person she was being asked to teach.
She would become the first female sovereign since the founding of Great Yong, achieving what even Empress Wu had failed to do.
Who would have thought the young emperor possessed such courage? The more Zhu Yin considered it, the more… interesting it seemed.
Zhu Yin liked interesting things.
She knew nothing about the art of ruling. But there was no need for her to teach that; the emperor himself could handle it.
After long consideration, Zhu Yin discovered that she knew only one thing: how to be overbearing.
What did it mean to be overbearing?
Zhu Yin: Baby wants it. Baby gets it.
After following her for several years, the eldest princess was forcibly transformed from a fairly reasonable little girl into one who persuaded others through “virtue.”
Martial virtue–the kind delivered with her fists.
At first, the emperor was delighted by the results. Then he realized something was wrong and hurriedly brought his daughter back to his side, where he and the empress attempted to correct her course.
Their efforts had limited effect, though they did successfully teach her to maintain appearances.
Specifically, the girl evolved from someone who looked unreasonable into someone who committed unreasonable acts with a kindly smile.
The emperor and empress: …That would have to do.
When the eldest princess turned ten, the emperor began taking her to court.
Even the slowest officials eventually understood.
No more children had been born into His Majesty’s harem in all these years. The ministers had submitted memorials until they were numb, to no avail. Meanwhile, the emperor’s authority grew more imposing by the day. His ministers trembled even when meeting his gaze, let alone when contradicting him.
They consoled themselves that His Majesty at least had an eldest prince. He was the only one, but he was reasonably healthy.
Yet now, did His Majesty mean to set aside the eldest prince and make the eldest princess his heir?
The court erupted in fierce opposition.
As the emperor’s “favored consort,” Zhu Yin received calling cards from many titled noblewomen.
Even the reclusive empress dowager could not avoid them.
The empress dowager issued a decree and cursed them outright: if they were all so idle, they could bathe, fast, and come to Bixiao Palace every day to listen to scriptures with her.
The effect was immediate. The inner palace fell quiet.
As for the imperial court, if the emperor could not withstand this much pressure, his many years as a sovereign who wielded real power had been wasted.
When the eldest prince and second princess grew older, the emperor brought them to court as well.
The officials looked on with hopeful anticipation…
It was not that the two of them were incapable. Compared with certain ignorant, idle members of the imperial clan, the eldest prince was modest and courteous, and his studies were respectable. But–but with such a brilliant jewel already before them, they simply… sighed.
The eldest princess had dared to debate an entire court of ministers alone at a tender age without changing expression. More crucially, she had not lost.
Anyone with eyes could see that the eldest prince could become a competent ruler who preserved his inheritance.
The eldest princess, however, had ambition, vision, civil wisdom, and martial skill. She could inherit the golden age her father had created, take up the sovereign’s sword, and forge an even grander future.
As ministers, once they set aside their private interests, who would not wish to follow an enlightened ruler in an age of prosperity and leave their name in history?
At sixteen, Princess Sheng’an went to war. She defeated Xidi, Changyue, and other states in succession, expanding Great Yong’s territory roughly five thousand kilometers westward. Opposition at court diminished markedly.
The great hereditary clans, nobles, and court officials began combing through the eligible young men in their families to see if any was worthy of the princess.
Barbara had never expected the plot to develop this way.
Its Host’s mission was to serve as the female lead’s “stepping stone” and make the emperor notice her through Zhu Yin. That mission had shown as complete long ago, when the female lead presented her spirit spring to the emperor.
Zhu Yin had remained because she was interested in what happened next. Later, she became the eldest princess’s teacher and found palace life reasonably pleasant, so she simply stayed as events carried her along.
She had even become occasional dining companions with the female lead, Su Yiwan. They met now and then to eat and chat.
She had not left yet because she wanted to see how far the little girl she had helped raise for several years could go.
In the fortieth year of Shenyou, the still-healthy emperor issued an edict of abdication and became emperor emeritus.
Princess Sheng’an, the crown heir in the prime of her life, ascended the throne as Great Yong’s eighth sovereign and took Jingwu as her era name.
Some court officials had still raged against the decision in earlier years, but by the time the new sovereign ascended, not one civil or military official opposed her.
Thus, Great Yong entered a new age.
Later readers of the histories were astonished to discover that everyone from the Shenyou era, emperor and officials alike, lived excessively long lives.
The Shenyou Emperor was already past sixty when he abdicated. After becoming emperor emeritus, he and the empress dowager lived nearly another thirty years before passing away together.
Nor was it only the imperial couple. One after another, the Shenyou Emperor’s veteran ministers lived past eighty before dying. In ancient times, this could only be called a miracle.
The most outrageous cases, however, were the Shenyou Emperor’s two officially recorded “favored consorts.”
Noble Dowager Consort Zhaosu and Dowager Consort Zhenjing.
Later generations held endless debates over their status as “favored consorts.”
After all, the Shenyou Emperor and his empress were famously devoted to each other. Palace records stated that the emperor cherished the empress, rarely visited the harem, and had only three children in his entire life. Defying the condemnation of the whole realm, he named the eldest princess born of the empress as his heir.
Yet these two women somehow stood between that loving couple.
Setting everything else aside, look only at their histories: both won favor shortly after entering the palace and received promotion after promotion. Their very presence rendered the rest of the Shenyou Emperor’s harem almost invisible.
Later generations argued furiously over who had been the Shenyou Emperor’s true love.
Some offered this evidence: if the emperor favored these two consorts, why did neither bear a child after so many years?
Their opponents countered: the empress never became pregnant again after giving birth to the eldest princess either. In fact, the Shenyou Emperor had no more children after his first three. Perhaps some accident had left him unable to father children. (The Shenyou Emperor: Thanks a lot!)
Other people focused on an entirely different point: those two women lived so long!
Dowager Consort Zhenjing of the Su clan lived to the age of one hundred and eight and died peacefully without illness.
Noble Dowager Consort Zhaosu’s life was even stranger. It was said that everyone who met her during her lifetime liked her. When she was still a mere Radiant Consort, not only the emperor but even the empress and empress dowager adored her.
Empress Jingwu had even studied under her in her youth.
According to the histories, she enjoyed the trust of two generations of sovereigns. Empress Jingwu was proud and autocratic, and the dowager consort alone could persuade her.
Empress Jingwu lived for eighty years, a rare span for a sovereign. Noble Dowager Consort Zhaosu outlived her disciple, then vanished without a trace.
Indeed, the histories failed to record the year of her death. An elderly dowager consort of such exalted status simply disappeared from the palace under the strangest circumstances, and no one could discover where she had gone.
Zhu Yin had actually been preparing to leave for years.
But when the young emperor and empress died, the imposing disciple who now ruled the realm clung to Zhu Yin and wept like a child.
She looked utterly pitiful.
Zhu Yin had never been a teacher before. The young sovereign barely counted as someone she had watched grow up, from a polite and pretty little girl into an emperor whose might awed the entire realm.
There was some affection between them after all.
That small measure of tenderness persuaded Zhu Yin to remain a while longer. Time, in any case, was the least valuable thing she possessed.
Without noticing, she stayed until the young sovereign, too, was about to leave.
The aged sovereign held Zhu Yin’s hand and called her Teacher, then Great-Grandmother. She had learned Zhu Yin’s identity long ago.
She asked, “I wonder if you are satisfied with how I have done?”
Then she said, “You are a person blessed with tremendous fortune. I know you have long grown weary of palace life. Once I am gone, the whole world is open to you. Go wherever you wish.”
Zhu Yin watched the life within her wither away.
She took the young sovereign’s words to heart and chose to go wherever she wished. Thus, amid the terrified cries of the palace attendants, she dissolved into scattered motes of light and vanished.