The next morning, Princess Donglin dressed up meticulously and entered the capital of Yanjing in a royal carriage.
At the city gates, officials from the Ministry of Rites of Qing State awaited her arrival. The princess's carriage procession proceeded along the imperial road into the city. Princess Donglin discreetly lifted the curtain of her carriage and caught sight of the armored city guards lining both sides of the road.
The guards stood tall and proud, gripping red-tasseled spears, their sharp eyes scanning the surroundings.
The towering city walls, the bustling streets in the distance, and the rows upon rows of houses left the princess in awe.
Princess Donglin sighed inwardly—this was indeed the mighty Da Qing, a nation so prosperous that her own homeland, Donglin, paled in comparison.
As she observed her surroundings with curiosity, she suddenly sensed an intense gaze upon her. Scanning the crowd of accompanying officials, her eyes landed on a strikingly handsome young man in a crimson official's robe.
He had a scholarly air about him, and his expression was one of stunned recognition, as if he had glimpsed someone familiar.
Sensing something amiss, Princess Donglin deliberately flashed him a gentle smile.
The princess was sharp-witted, though she maintained a facade of innocent playfulness in public—everyone believed her to be a simple-minded young princess.
Her radiant smile only deepened the young official's bewilderment.
Lowering the scarlet carriage curtain, she turned to her maid and asked, "Who is that young official from the Ministry of Rites on the left, the one in his twenties?"
The maid flipped through the registry and replied, "Your Highness, that is Yan Yunting, the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Rites. A rising star from a prestigious family, said to be highly favored by Emperor Qing."
Princess Donglin nodded thoughtfully, committing the name to memory.
...
The following day, Shen Wei arranged accommodations for Princess Donglin. Whether Li Yuanjing would accept her or not, protocol dictated that the princess stay in the palace for a few days.
If she were to be made a consort, the ceremony would take place within the palace.
If she were to be bestowed upon a noble or official, she would depart from the palace as a bride.
While handling the princess's reception, Shen Wei also summoned Zhang Miaoyu to organize some leisure activities for the imperial harem.
Seated by the luohan bed, Zhang Miaoyu flipped through Shen Wei's plans: "Leaf cards, dominoes, embroidery by the window, antique appreciation by the fire, music, horseback riding... My, the palace is going to be lively."
Shen Wei nodded. "Once you enter the palace gates, the depths are unfathomable. These women are confined to small courtyards for life, growing increasingly despondent over time—it's truly pitiful."
The imperial harem of Qing State was lifeless.
These once-vibrant young women, who had entered the palace hoping to capture the emperor's heart, were battered by reality. Most became withdrawn and depressed, unwilling to socialize, withering away alone in their chambers.
Humans cannot thrive without social interaction.
Prolonged isolation breeds melancholy, and even the slightest provocation can twist their minds.
These emotionally tormented consorts, like patients in an asylum, either succumbed to despair or turned to violence—pitiable yet dangerous.
As the overseer of the harem, Shen Wei had recently amended palace regulations, allowing the families of the consorts to visit twice a year to ease their loneliness. Beyond that, she introduced recreational activities to help them unwind.
Tea gatherings, card games, playful interactions with children—anything to add a dash of color to their monotonous lives.
Zhang Miaoyu rested her chin on her hand, still skeptical. "The idea is good, but they might not appreciate it. Those consorts are ungrateful—they'd gladly see you fall from favor so they can take your place."
Shen Wei sighed. "We can only do our best."
Truthfully, the best remedy for their melancholy would be Li Yuanjing's company—dividing his nights among them, ensuring none felt neglected.
But Li Yuanjing was no puppet ruler. With the influential families that once constrained him now weakened, he no longer needed to placate the court through his harem. He was not a lustful tyrant; his heart belonged solely to Shen Wei, and he spent most nights in Yongning Palace, only occasionally visiting other consorts.
To Li Yuanjing, Shen Wei was both a sumptuous feast and a comforting bowl of congee—endlessly delightful, embodying the finest qualities of all women.
He never tired of her, savoring every moment.
Though Li Yuanjing frequented Yongning Palace without complaint, Shen Wei herself grew weary of it. Once, she had gently suggested he spend more time with the other consorts.
His face darkened instantly.
Shen Wei was at a loss.
For years, she had played her role flawlessly, securing a firm place in Li Yuanjing's heart. If she pushed too hard for him to share his affections, her carefully crafted image of devotion might crumble, arousing his suspicions.
She dared not press further, silently counting the years until her child came of age. Until then, she would endure.
She could always leave him after retirement.
"Vivi, you're truly one of a kind," Zhang Miaoyu mused, resting her chin on her hand. "What a shame the emperor refuses to depose the empress—otherwise, you'd surely go down in history as a virtuous and wise queen."
Shen Wei smiled faintly. "Being a noble consort is enough. Excess invites disaster."
As empress, she would be bound by rigid expectations—dignified, virtuous, and obligated to urge the emperor to share his favors.
As Noble Consort Chen, she enjoyed more freedom. An occasional act of kindness would earn praise, for the world's standards for a consort were far lower than those for an empress.
...
By noon, Princess Donglin's lavish procession finally arrived at the palace, passing through the imposing gates.
A princess from a minor foreign state was unworthy of the emperor's personal reception, so the task fell to Shen Wei, the overseer of the harem.
Accompanied by high-ranking palace ladies and officials from the Ministry of Rites, Shen Wei awaited at the East Martial Gate.
Late autumn had stripped the ancient trees outside the gate bare, their yellowed leaves littering the ground.
Zhang Miaoyu stood behind Shen Wei, craning her neck to peer ahead. "Let's hope this Princess Donglin knows her place and doesn't stir up trouble," she muttered.
A princess from a powerful nation commanded respect wherever she went, but a princess from a tiny state, though bearing a grand title, held less standing than the daughter of a fourth-rank official in Da Qing.
With armored imperial guards clearing the way, the scarlet carriage rolled to a stop at the palace entrance. Eunuchs placed a stepping stool, and a maid lifted the heavy curtain, carefully assisting Princess Donglin as she descended.
The princess, clad in an ornate golden ceremonial robe with her hair elegantly coiled, bowed gracefully to Shen Wei. "Zhenmin of Donglin pays her respects to Noble Consort Chen."
As she raised her head, the autumn breeze stirred the golden hairpins in her hair, revealing a face of striking beauty.
Shen Wei froze.
The princess from afar bore an uncanny resemblance to Zhao Yang.
