Chapter 9: The Qing Dynasty Journey (9)

“Wenyao has been thinking about His Majesty, considering that he spends most of his time in the palace and seldom visits the fields. She wanted him to see what fresh wheat ears look like,” Tong Guogang said, bracing himself as he relayed Wenyao’s words.

He shared Jue Luo’s doubts, feeling that conversations between men and women often revolved around romance, not rural affairs. Yet, unlike them, Wenyao had grown up alongside the emperor and naturally understood his thoughts better.

The couple existed in a state of mutual incomprehension but trust.

After speaking, Tong Guogang observed the emperor’s expression carefully. Seeing no anger, he felt relieved. Fortunately, the current emperor was still short, so even with his eyes lowered, Tong could clearly read his face.

“I once told my cousin that although I am emperor, I have lived in the palace for many years and never seen the common people’s way of life. I believe my cousin kept this in mind and hurriedly brought these wheat ears into the palace so I could see what kind of grain the people eat,” the emperor said, gently setting down the wheat ears. They were fresh, golden with streaks of green, and still moist to the touch. He caressed them tenderly once more. “It’s a pity these ears come from fertile fields. Among the common folk, fewer than one in ten could eat such grain.”

Tong Guogang had nothing to say in response. Although the Tong family was not a great clan, since entering the realm, they had enjoyed unparalleled wealth. The greatest hardship he had endured was studying and practicing martial arts daily from a young age. He had no idea what life was like for the common people.

He simply agreed, “Your Majesty’s benevolence spreads to all under heaven. Once the realm is peaceful, Your Majesty may leave the palace and personally inspect the lives of your subjects.”

This remark struck a chord with the emperor. Though young and unmarried, not yet ruling in his own right, the thought of future peace pleased him greatly. The four regents each had their own agendas, but he was not without support; at least the Tong family and the imperial clan stood behind him.

The emperor promptly called for Liang Jiugong to bring gold-ink paper. Without changing pens, he took the vermilion brush used for correcting memorials and wrote a few flowing lines. Then he removed the jade pendant hanging from his waist and placed it together with the letter into a carved sandalwood box.

“Take this box to my cousin,” he commanded.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Tong Guogang replied, accepting the box with both hands before kneeling to show respect and leaving the palace.

Outside, he did not return home but headed straight to a countryside manor. Though the servants could attend to him at the residence, his wife and children had left the city, and staying alone felt strange. Besides, he now held an “excuse”—the emperor’s order—which he had to fulfill immediately.

It was strange. Previously, Jue Luo had resented the servants and given them contraceptive soup, making Tong restless and occasionally sneaking away for illicit affairs. But since Jue Luo relaxed her control and ceased the contraception, he found himself less restless and more willing to stay with her in the main residence.

As Wenyao put it, men are all fools: when you treat them like treasures, they feel controlled like children and sneak off to misbehave; when you ignore them, they begin to cherish you again.

“Madam, your husband has arrived,” the maid Ling Shuang reported upon entering the inner courtyard. “He is already in the front courtyard, and Changxi and the others are helping him wash up.”

“How did your father come at this hour?” Jue Luo asked, puzzled. The inner city was not far from the outskirts, but riding out alone must have been tiring.

“Probably the emperor sent some message,” Wenyao said, fanning herself. Noticing Olandai stopped writing to listen, she lightly tapped his shoulder with the fan. “Don’t stop; keep writing. Your handwriting is awful and needs practice.”

“All right, I’ll keep practicing,” Olandai replied, grumbling and continuing his work.

He had only wanted to show his elder sister some recent poetry studies, but his sloppy handwriting was harshly criticized, and she forced him to practice calligraphy, adding more work.

“Who do you think you are, ‘little master’ and all? No respect,” Wenyao scolded, delivering another fan tap to his shoulder.

“Enough, you two write your characters; I’ll go check on your father,” Jue Luo said, knowing her son needed discipline but also feeling pity. She got up and left to give them space.

When Jue Luo reached the front courtyard, Tong Guogang had just changed into a fine linen short jacket and shorts. His large feet wore wooden clogs. He sat in a wicker chair, fanning himself with a large palm fan in one hand and holding a glass of herbal tea in the other.

“Why did you tie up your braid like that?” Jue Luo asked, noticing his new look.

“It’s scorching hot,” Tong replied.

Jue Luo’s worry deepened. “Could this lead to a drought?”

“The capital’s weather is fine, but I heard there’s a drought in Dengzhou Prefecture,” Tong said.

Dengzhou Prefecture, in Shandong near the capital, had drought conditions. Unusual weather in the capital was normal under these circumstances, but if the drought worsened, refugees might flood into the city.

Since the drought report arrived, Ao Bai had no time to handle disputes among the banners; everyone was busy disaster relief.

“Year after year, disasters come without end,” Jue Luo sighed.

She remembered last spring in Xingtai, where a long drought delayed the farmers’ spring planting.

“That’s the court’s business,” Tong said, pushing the sandalwood box toward Jue Luo. “The emperor was delighted to see the wheat ears. He immediately took off the jade pendant and wrote a letter for Wenyao. I came straight to the manor after leaving the palace.”

Jue Luo took the box, caressed it twice, then handed it to Ling Shuang. “Deliver this to the princess. You heard what the master said; don’t forget to teach the princess.”

“Yes, madam,” Ling Shuang said, taking the box downstairs.

After the servants left, Tong beckoned Jue Luo over and embraced her tightly.

“Is it hot?” she struggled to pull away.

Tong held her fast. “In a few days, I expect I’ll have to go to the main camp for a while. From what the emperor said, we can’t let Prince An control the entire Plain Blue Banner.

“Long ago, the Plain Blue Banner was among the top three banners, but because of Dorgon, it was replaced by the Plain White Banner and became one of the lesser five banners. The Plain Blue Banner’s people still haven’t recovered from this.”

“Since Prince Yu Doni left, Prince An has basically controlled the Plain Blue Banner. The Empress Dowager always feared Prince An, and the late emperor nearly passed the throne to him. The younger branch replacing the senior branch is the root of the chaos.

“The Empress Dowager would rather support a child than let the realm change hands. If Prince An took the throne, what would all her years of patience and plotting mean?

“What angers her most is Prince An’s attitude toward the Khorchin tribe. For the sake of the Zhang family, he killed his own primary consort Borjigit and two sons in a day, even arranging for a Han woman from the Wulahan Jiermen clan to become his secondary consort—a Han woman sitting in the side consort’s position. Even though the Zhang family was just an excuse, the death of his clan meant Prince An’s line lost its Mongol blood, which infuriated the Empress Dowager.”

Now, the Tong family belonged to the Plain Blue Banner and was the emperor’s maternal kin. They could not betray their relatives, and the Empress Dowager hoped the Tong family could control part of the Plain Blue Banner’s power to prevent the Yue Le family from dominating.

“If it’s the emperor’s order, you must do your best,” Jue Luo said. She hoped her family could one day raise their banner.

She hadn’t forgotten that since marrying Tong Guogang, whenever she met Doni, she had to kowtow. Before marriage, she belonged to the Bordered Yellow Banner, whose greatest banner lord was the emperor in the palace, but after marriage, she followed her husband’s banner. Outside, she kowtowed even more.

“Though the lesser five banners are weaker than the top three, whether our family can raise a banner depends on Wenyao.”

The Empress Dowager wanted to use the Tong family but refused to let her niece suffer. Four years after the emperor’s accession, she had yet to grant the Tong family entry into the Bordered Yellow Banner.

“We will raise the banner, but it’s only a matter of time,” Tong Guogang said confidently. He believed the emperor would not allow his maternal kin to remain in a lesser banner.

Meanwhile, Ling Shuang delivered the emperor’s sandalwood box to Wenyao.

On the gold-ink paper, the vermilion brush wrote a brief message: “Chengqian Palace has been refurbished and awaits its mistress.”

Thankfully, it was not some flowery, sour poem.

Wenyao exhaled slowly. The old man’s literary skill was lacking. Although she had been reading a lot recently, if she had to compose some overly ornate, meaningless lines, she would have to copy from TV dramas.

Her memory was decent.

She glanced at the jade pendant. Though casually torn from the emperor’s belt, it was not the legendary Nine-Dragon jade pendant but one carved in the shape of a raccoon dog. Though the emperor was now sovereign, he was still a child, and the Imperial Household Department’s jewelry retained a childlike style. Thus, the raccoon dog carving was not surprising.

The figure was green all over, natural in expression, with fine details and a fluffy appearance.

Wenyao liked it very much.

She had always been unable to resist such cute creatures. If the system’s first form had been a cat rather than a big black crow, she might not have tricked it into a deep sleep.

Without hesitation, she took a sheet of rice paper from Olandai’s calligraphy stack, chose the finest brush, and began carefully sketching the layout of the furnishings in Chengqian Palace.

Olandai, unable to sit still, came over to look.

“Is this the palace where big sister will live?” he asked.

“Yes, in Chengqian Palace. Ahead is Aunt Jingren Palace. When you enter the palace to visit your sister, be sure not to take the wrong path.”

Olandai would surely start as a palace guard when he grew up. Chengqian Palace was close to Qianqing Palace, so during duty, he might have chances to visit.

“Little brother will remember,” he said seriously, his face solemn. “But when will big sister enter the palace? It’s already June. Mother said big sister won’t come until after the new year at the earliest.”

“Right, your cousin’s wedding to the Empress is on the eighth day of the ninth month. We consorts usually enter the palace months later.”

“Is big sister the only one entering the palace?”

Wenyao shook her head. “Hard to say. There will probably be others, daughters from families like the Yehe Nara and Wanyan clans—mostly daughters of great families. But many of them are cannon fodder. The tea maid candidates have produced two consorts successfully.”

Speaking of the Yehe Nara family…

They seemed to be the daughters of Mingzhu, younger sisters of Rongruo, who entered the palace at age seven to await their turn.