Spring Remains the Same - Chapter 109

The investigation into the Prince of Jin’s rebellion lasted three months. The Ministry of Justice and the Grand Court of Revision rooted out every last person involved, both major and minor, before the Emperor was satisfied. Observing the political climate, the assembled ministers had all felt that with the throne having changed hands twice in a single year, Her Majesty would likely avoid a large-scale purge for the sake of stability. Unexpectedly, when the final sentences were passed, the Emperor convicted every single person, showing no mercy. She even had Dowager Consort Shu torn apart by chariots and had the entire family of the Prince of Jin, regardless of age, put to death before the matter was considered closed.

The Prince of Jin’s crime was regicide, so no punishment could be considered excessive. Aside from a few imperial censors who submitted memorials admonishing the Emperor for being overly cruel, almost no one in the court found it improper.

However, for a new monarch to carry out such extensive purges so soon after ascending the throne was not a good omen. When the new year arrived, the Emperor led the hundred officials to the Circular Mound Altar to perform a sacrifice to Heaven, praying for favorable winds and timely rain, and for the peace and prosperity of the nation.

On New Year’s Day, the Emperor held a grand court session, accepted the obeisance of the hundred officials, and issued an edict changing the reign title to Ganlu.

This year thus became the first year of Ganlu.

The previous year had not been a peaceful one for the Great Wei. Emperor Ai had passed away, and the first female emperor since the dawn of time had ascended the throne, making turmoil in the court inevitable. Fortunately, this turmoil was confined to the capital and did not spread to the provinces, so the administration of the state was not thrown into chaos. Human nature tends toward peace; for the common people, having clothes to ward off the cold and grain to fill their bellies was enough. They were not particularly concerned with which emperor sat on the throne.

Furthermore, Puyang was extremely diligent in her rule, employing a blend of leniency and strictness in managing her subordinates. The ministers, still influenced by the legacy of Emperor Gao’s court, did not dare to be negligent in their political duties. After a year of upheaval, the Great Wei was, surprisingly, still showing signs of vibrant vitality.

Puyang knew that her status as a woman was, in the end, a difficult issue. The court had already been compiling books during Emperor Gao’s time, so Puyang simply took the opportunity to invite renowned scholars from across the realm to the capital to discuss literature and compose prose and poetry.

Puyang herself was fond of painting and calligraphy and had considerable knowledge in these areas. When she had a spare moment, she would go to the Hall for the Veneration of Literature to discuss matters with them, often offering brilliant phrases that were startlingly insightful.

As a result, public discussion about a woman governing gradually subsided. When the female emperor was mentioned, it was often with phrases describing her as culturally prolific, benevolent, and loving toward her people.

In this way, Puyang secured her throne, and handling state affairs became increasingly adept.

In the second year of Ganlu, Chancellor Wang passed away. Puyang personally attended the mourning rites and summoned Wang Gun back to the capital, promoting him to the position of Chancellor. The Wang clan’s glory was unparalleled for a time.

Wang Gun was not his father’s equal. He was a bit rigid in his conduct, but he was not an incompetent minister—he merely lacked experience. Seeing this, Puyang simply used the opportunity to consolidate imperial power and enhance her own prestige.

Beyond this, in the neighboring state of Song, the ministers were still trying desperately to persuade their emperor, and the people of Song were still enduring great hardship. Unfortunately, their emperor remained cruel, and his tyranny showed signs of escalating. The Emperor of Qi, on the other hand, had improved somewhat; he was no longer so indulgent in comfort and pleasure, but that was because the struggle for the position of crown prince had not yet concluded. The Prince of Yuzhang had emerged as the frontrunner, but the other imperial princes were not resigned to this. The Prince of Yuzhang also lacked the prestige of the former crown prince to keep the other princes in line. For a time, they were all undermining one another, turning the court and the country into a foul and murky mess.

For the Great Wei, which harbored ambitions of annexing the world, the incompetence of other rulers was truly a good thing. From this perspective, the nation was stable and thriving, while its neighbors were in chaos, mired in internal strife and conflict. The situation was excellent, and it seemed Her Majesty had no cause for displeasure. The reality, however, was that the ministers now rarely saw Her Majesty in high spirits.

Year after year, she remained in the Hall of Proclaimed Virtue, eating and sleeping there. She never entered the rear palace, nor did she visit the gardens, burying herself in state affairs day and night.

At first, the ministers thought nothing of it, but as time went on, they began to feel it was improper. The Hall of Proclaimed Virtue was certainly magnificent, but for an emperor, it was ultimately a monotonous existence. Although Her Majesty was a woman and it would be inappropriate to fill her harem with consorts, she could not remain all alone, without even a single person to talk to.

Moreover, the Prince Consort had been away from the capital for a long time with no news of recovery, suggesting that the matter of an heir was not proceeding smoothly. It was true that Her Majesty was young, but it was better to establish the position of Crown Prince sooner rather than later. The rebellion of the Prince of Jin back then was certainly due to Emperor Ai’s inability to protect the state, but who was to say it wasn’t a disaster sown by Emperor Gao’s failure to name a Crown Prince early? Establishing a Crown Prince early would also stabilize the foundation of the state.

The ministers gradually grew anxious and privately discussed what should be done.

Given that Her Majesty was a woman, they could not brazenly submit a memorial requesting the Son of Heaven to expand the inner court. After careful deliberation, several high-ranking ministers entrusted Dowager Lady Wang with entering the palace to offer counsel.

Dowager Lady Wang was the Emperor’s maternal grandmother, and Her Majesty had always treated the Wang clan with great affection. It was most fitting for the old lady to be the one to speak.

Since the passing of the old Chancellor Wang, the Dowager Lady had lived in even deeper seclusion, rarely seeing outside guests. But since this matter concerned Puyang, she naturally could not sit still. She prepared her words and entered the palace.

When she arrived, Puyang was reading a memorial. Seeing the old lady’s figure, she quickly rose to support her.

The Dowager Lady was old and her movements were labored, yet she showed no signs of senility. Walking into the hall, she declined Puyang’s support, bent to perform a salute, and said, “Greetings, Your Majesty.”

Puyang smiled and helped her up, asking with concern, “It has been a long time since I’ve seen you, Grandmother. Are you well?”

The Dowager Lady also studied Puyang carefully. Seeing her serene expression and that while her imperial authority grew daily, she had not lost her human touch, she felt greatly relieved. “This subject is well. It is only that I have not seen Your Majesty, and my heart was filled with concern.”

Puyang helped her to a seat by a window and said with a smile, “What difficulty is there for you to see me, Grandmother? You need only come to the palace.”

It was early winter, and the weather was already freezing. Puyang ordered an attendant to serve ginger tea to warm the old lady.

“My legs are no longer useful. In my heart, I wanted to come see Your Majesty, but the moment I move, I feel so tired. And so it is only today that I have managed to enter the palace,” the Dowager Lady said, discreetly surveying her surroundings.

The place where the Emperor handled state affairs would naturally not be shabby. Hanging on the walls were ancient masterpieces, displayed on the high tables were treasures, the screen was made of jade, the small cup in her hand was carved from ivory, and the faint fragrance of red sandalwood still lingered on the desk before her. Every detail was refined and grand.

But no matter how grand, it could not conceal the air of coldness and desolation within.

The Dowager Lady’s gaze swept over the threshold, and her heart tightened. Back when the Prince Consort was still in the capital, Her Majesty had the threshold of the Hall of Proclaimed Virtue removed for her convenience. More than two years had passed in a flash, and the threshold was still gone.

Puyang was asking about family matters. Seventh Brother was about to take a wife, and Ninth Sister was also approaching her wedding day. Although she had not frequented the Wang residence in the past two years, she was well aware of the affairs of her maternal grandmother’s family.

The Dowager Lady answered each question, then smoothly turned the conversation. “Sixth Sister is four years younger than Your Majesty, and she has already become a mother for the second time. Does Your Majesty have any plans for your own great matter?”

Puyang was taken aback, finally understanding why the old lady had come today. Two-tenths of the smile immediately vanished from her face. “The matter of children is determined by Heaven. It is best to let nature take its course.”

The Dowager Lady sensed her reluctance to discuss it, but the matter could not be shelved indefinitely. She had no choice but to change the subject, gently persuading, “It is not just for the sake of an heir. It is simply not right for Your Majesty to have no one by your side to attend to you.”

Puyang smiled faintly. “The mourning period for Emperor Gao is not yet over. How could I dare to think of matters between men and women?”

This was merely an excuse, and how could the Dowager Lady not see through it? For the Son of Heaven, a day of mourning was substituted for a month; the mourning period had long been over. Her Majesty was simply unwilling.

Once one became the Son of Heaven, many things were no longer one’s own private affair. The ministers always liked to meddle in the Son of Heaven’s family affairs. The Dowager Lady was born into a great house, her husband had reached the highest echelons of power, her daughter had become an empress, and her granddaughter had become the emperor. She was naturally a woman of insight.

She pondered for a moment, then tentatively asked in a soft voice, “Is Your Majesty perhaps thinking of the Imperial Consort?”

Puyang’s heart felt as if it had been pierced by a needle, a sharp, acute pain. It had been two years. People rarely mentioned that person in her presence anymore. She had almost believed that the capital had forgotten her. The traces she had left were growing fainter and fainter. Even Grand Tutor Wei, after his position in the family had stabilized, no longer constantly asked after the Prince Consort.

Puyang neither denied nor confirmed it, only saying, “It was not easy for you to make this trip, Grandmother. Why not stay for lunch before you leave?”

The Emperor was clearly unwilling to discuss it further. The Dowager Lady had no choice but to drop the matter for the time being.

In the afternoon, once the Dowager Lady had left, the Hall of Proclaimed Virtue fell silent again.

Puyang sat back down behind the imperial desk and began to read the memorials. Wang Gun had been summoned to the capital, but someone still needed to be stationed with the troops. Puyang wanted to fight a war. If she defeated Qi and Song and pushed the borders south, the Great Wei could be free of future troubles forever, and she also needed an unprecedented and brilliant achievement to add luster to the prosperous era of her reign.

To do so, she needed to have a thorough understanding of the talented commanders and marshals available to the court.

By the time Puyang finished reading the memorials, it was already dusk. After her evening meal, she took out the dossiers of the military officials and began to flip through them. When she came to Jiao Yong’s file, she could not help but feel a pang of regret. Jiao Yong had been taught everything by Grand Marshal Zhong; he had a mind full of military strategy, which he used with masterful skill, and on the battlefield, he was brave and invincible. He had risen from a common soldier to Capital Commandant entirely through his own military merits.

It was a pity such a great talent could not be used.

Puyang sighed once, closed the dossiers, and set them aside. Two stacks of documents were piled on the imperial desk. On the left were the memorials submitted today, concerning the welfare of the nation and its people, which she had already reviewed and annotated one by one. On the right were the dossiers of military officers, concerning the expansion of the Great Wei’s territory, which she had been studying meticulously for months and observing closely during the day.

Everything seemed to be on the right track, with nothing amiss. As the Son of Heaven, she could finally feel a sense of gratification. But to her, this gratification was just a thin layer floating on the surface of her heart, unable to truly penetrate it.

She was busy every day with the affairs of the state, and she did not feel that anything was wrong, but she did not feel that anything was right either. The imperial throne, which she had once regarded as an obsession, now seemed plain and unremarkable. In this palace city, in the Hall of Proclaimed Virtue, upon the imperial throne, she felt not the slightest satisfaction, only that her heart, like this great hall, was empty and vast.

The night was deep, and the candlelight in the hall could not dispel the darkness. The palace attendants all seemed tired, standing silently in the corners. For hundreds of days and nights, it had been like this every day. Puyang thought she should have grown accustomed to it long ago, but perhaps it was the Dowager Lady’s sudden mention that caused the longing hidden in the depths of her heart to grow wildly, like green vines in spring.

She was suddenly struck by a heart-pounding loneliness. She put down her brush, stood up, and walked outside. Qin Kun hurried after her, draping a thick, soft cloak over her shoulders.

Puyang walked silently toward the Hall of Containing Light. Palace attendants carried lanterns ahead and attended her from behind, a large, dark crowd following her, yet it was utterly silent, devoid of any human warmth, just like the black night.

The Hall of Containing Light stood in the darkness, without lights, without a single figure. Puyang stopped before the door. She did not dare to push it open. After Wei Xiu left, she had not dared to come here again.

Suddenly, it began to snow. Puyang looked up as snowflakes fell gently, landing on her.

She was abruptly seized by a heart-rending pain. If A-Xiu were still in the palace, this silent, black night would surely not be so long and unbearable.

Puyang knew that Wei Xiu was on Mount Mang.

Mount Mang was in the suburbs of the capital, not very far away. One could make the trip and return on the same day. It would not be very difficult for Puyang to see her.

But how would they meet? And what would they say when they did?

Puyang felt it was better to just cherish the memory. She regarded her as her beloved, insisting on proclaiming to the world that the Prince Consort had left the capital to recuperate, stubbornly refusing to dissolve their marriage. She was willing to guard this illusory status, willing to be alone, to honor the “lifetime” Wei Xiu had once spoken of in jest. But she did not dare to hear Wei Xiu’s cold words of mockery and sarcasm again.

Wei Xiu’s words, “It’s better if we forget each other,” and the things she had said with eyes full of cold vengeance—“I was forced by circumstances to marry you, and I still feel humiliated thinking about it. On our wedding night, the former emperor suddenly fell ill. You have no idea how fortunate I felt not to have to touch you”—made Puyang feel utterly humiliated every time she recalled them.

She still missed her, still hoped that she would remember her good qualities, that she would come back to see her. But Puyang no longer dared to actively seek her out. She was also afraid that A-Xiu’s hatred had not faded, and that she would only annoy her.

However, no matter how many reservations she had, they were all swept away the moment she heard that Wei Xiu had suddenly fallen gravely ill.