Chapter 20

When Nie Qinglin stepped out of the warm chamber, the sweat on her body had yet to dry.

The furious Grand Tutor had long since stormed off with his entourage, disappearing without a trace.

Dizzy from the heat, Nie Qinglin stumbled over the shattered door panel at the entrance.

An Qiao’er steadied her as she slowly straightened up.

Lifting her head, Nie Qinglin caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure flickering amidst the flower bushes not far away.

But in the blink of an eye, the figure vanished into the winding garden paths.

Whoever this spy was—likely a servant from some palace—they were certainly skilled at gathering information.

Nie Qinglin grew inwardly wary but lacked the manpower to track down the shadow.

An Qiao’er had also noticed and asked nervously, “Who was that? How dare they lurk around the imperial garden?”

Nie Qinglin waved her hand, signaling her to stay silent.

Anyone who could infiltrate the imperial garden undetected was no ordinary person.

Whatever they were after, let the immortals and buddhas deal with them.

As for her—a fake monkey trapped under the Five-Finger Mountain—she just needed to eat and sleep peacefully.

(T/N: This is from “Journey to the West,” where Buddha imprisoned Sun Wukong, or the Monkey King, under a mountain for 500 years. Buddha did this to teach him patience and humility after Sun Wukong wreaked havoc in the Heavens. The mountain’s seal, a magical inscription, can only be broken by Tang Sanzang.)

The next day, Nie Qinglin fell ill with a high fever.

It was partly due to the chill, but more so from prolonged mental strain.

Others might think her carefree, but they didn’t know that someone born walking on a mountain of blades, treading through scorching flames every day, would naturally grow numb to fear.

Long ago, Nie Qinglin had accepted that her life was a borrowed one.

No matter how dire her circumstances, each day was a stolen gift, and she resolved to live it with unshaken composure.

But these past days of maneuvering around the Grand Tutor had drained her completely.

Every nerve was stretched taut, not a single misstep allowed.

Now that the crisis had abruptly passed, her body collapsed like a mountain under the weight of illness.

Imperial Physician Zhang rushed to the palace to treat her.

After administering medicine, she broke into a sweat, dispelling some of the cold.

The fever subsided, but her body remained weak and sore.

Even her usual favorite snacks couldn’t lift her spirits.

Physician Zhang’s heart ached—both from worry over her deteriorating health and secret delight at being able to visit the emperor daily, staying by the beauty’s side.

The young man’s heart was torn.

By convention, as a key minister of the court, the Grand Tutor should have paid a ceremonial visit to the ailing emperor.

But the Grand Tutor seemed preoccupied with handling the aftermath of the Pingxi and couldn’t spare a glance for the seriously ill sovereign.

Yet his neglect of the imperial master brought Nie Qinglin immense relief.

The Grand Tutor truly has an unyielding spine!

Her risky gambit had paid off—once the ambiguous tension between them was torn apart, the Grand Tutor lost interest and grew cold toward her.

Nie Qinglin knew her place.

Using her illness as an excuse, she stopped attending court as a useless figurehead and instead lounged leisurely in her chambers.

She had braced herself for the Grand Tutor’s wrath, expecting reduced provisions and hardships.

But nearly half a month passed, and the palace’s supplies arrived punctually as ever.

Seeing the emperor claim prolonged weakness and inability to attend court, the inner palace even sent three boxes of premium ginseng a few days prior.

The ginseng roots were thick and vein-like, as if they had sprouted spirits.

Tied carefully with red thread—lest they flee back to the deep mountains at night—they were unmistakably rare tributes from the northern kingdom.

The inner palace was unexpectedly generous, willing to offer such priceless medicine—rare even in the imperial household—to a puppet emperor.

And the aged ginseng proved its worth.

After steeping a few slices, her convalescent body improved noticeably, and her appetite gradually returned.

With no need to face the Grand Tutor or listen to courtiers clamoring for the execution of Prince Anxi’s entire household, life became tranquil and pleasant.

After indulging in An Qiao’er’s black chicken ginseng soup, Nie Qinglin realized she had gained weight—even her usual fitted jacket felt tighter.

While the young emperor relaxed and plumped up, the ministers in court suffered.

Logically, the Grand Tutor should have been in high spirits after the Pingxi victory, having rid himself of a major threat.

After the campaign, the imperial court issued an edict denouncing Prince Anxi’s treasonous crimes—so numerous they could fill bamboo scrolls—and signaling a sweeping purge of his allies.

Feudal lords scrambled to distance themselves from the rebel leader, rushing to make up for unpaid tributes—some even doubling their offerings.

The treasury swelled, and the Ministry of Revenue’s abacus clattered loudly with satisfaction.

Yet since the victory banquet, the Grand Tutor’s handsome face had remained grim, as if he had suffered a defeat.

His expression darkened, and after court, he often sat silently in his study, leaving ministers who sought an audience in agonizing limbo.

Watching the storm clouds on his face, they wished they had never stepped foot inside.

Some tried to bribe his attendants for hints about his foul mood, but his inner circle was tight-lipped and disciplined, revealing nothing.

No one could pinpoint the source of his displeasure.

Eunuch Ruan, who stood by his side daily, was on high alert, serving with bated breath.

He had a guess about the Grand Tutor’s odd behavior.

That day, when the Grand Tutor kicked open the warm chamber door in a rage, Eunuch Ruan had witnessed it firsthand.

He suspected the young emperor had foolishly pleaded for Prince Anxi’s pardon, provoking the Grand Tutor’s fury.

If so, the emperor truly lacked tact.

Though the Grand Tutor had always been indifferent toward the emperor, this time his wrath was fiercer than ever.

Even upon hearing of the emperor’s high fever, he refused to show basic courtesy and visit.

Yet if the Grand Tutor truly intended to punish the emperor, his actions didn’t quite fit.

A few days prior, upon learning the emperor had lost weight and had no appetite, the Grand Tutor suddenly decided to take a stroll—lingering outside the emperor’s chambers for a long while before leaving with a stormy expression.

The next day, he sent over a gift from his own residence—several century-old snow ginsengs, originally presented to him by the northern kingdom.

He ordered Eunuch Ruan to deliver them under the inner palace’s name, forbidding any mention of his involvement.

Eunuch Ruan sighed inwardly: Ah, what tangled game is the Grand Tutor playing? My meager intellect can’t fathom it!

But there were more pressing concerns.

With the treasury full, the loyalty of old ministers began to sprout like rain-fed shoots, stirring restlessly.

The young emperor was nearing sixteen—the age for selecting consorts and marrying.

Yet the empress’s position remained vacant.

Even after selecting a candidate, she would need a year of training by palace matrons before the wedding.

The emperor’s marriage was already behind schedule!

Not that the Ministry of Personnel had been negligent.

With no empress dowager to oversee the selection, and everyone knowing the emperor was both “heavenly impaired” and a doomed puppet, which noble family would sacrifice their daughter to wed a eunuch emperor doomed to die?

Anyone proposing the emperor’s marriage would be drowned in the court’s collective scorn.

Yet someone still missed the memo.

The retired scholar-official Wu, idle at home, penned a heartfelt memorial urging the Grand Tutor to arrange the emperor’s marriage.

Such superfluous memorials were usually tossed into the wastebasket unread, destined for the fire.

But that day, the Grand Tutor fished it back out, studied it, and summoned the Ministry of Personnel’s vice minister, ordering him to compile a list of eligible noble daughters—enough to fill the emperor’s three palaces and six courtyards.

The ministry, understanding the assignment, threw itself into the task, collecting birth charts and dispatching artists to paint portraits of each candidate.

The Grand Tutor’s instructions were precise: “Other details aside, the portraits must accurately capture their features and figures. If any artist dares to pull a Mao Yanshou—taking bribes to uglify a beauty like Wang Zhaojun—they can pack their family’s heads and deliver them to the executioner themselves!”

(T/N: A little history lesson…please read it at the end of chapter..hehe)

The artists, duly warned and terrified of the Grand Tutor, refused all bribes from families begging to have their daughters painted unfavorably.

For a time, households with beautiful daughters wailed in despair, cursing Scholar Wu’s ancestors to the third generation.

Days later, the portraits were presented to the Grand Tutor.

A seasoned connoisseur of concubines, the Grand Tutor had a discerning eye for women.

As Eunuch Ruan held the lamp, watching him sift through the portraits, his eyelids began to twitch.

Heavens! What noble daughters are these?

Some had moles as large as ink drops, others waists as thick as ancient trees.

There were plenty of stunning beauties, but the Grand Tutor ignored them all, callously tossing them aside.

After much deliberation, he finally selected four equally unappealing portraits and summoned the artists.

“Are these accurate?”

The artists knelt and swore that, if anything, they had flattered the originals—the actual ladies were even more… distinctive.

They had strictly adhered to the Grand Tutor’s orders, never daring to uglify a beauty.

Satisfied, the Grand Tutor dismissed them and turned to Eunuch Ruan.

“Present these to the emperor tomorrow. His Majesty is of age to have companions and enjoy marital harmony. Let him choose his favorite—she shall be the empress.”

Eunuch Ruan accepted the scrolls with a heavy heart.

In the past, imperial consort selections featured dazzling beauties, leaving the emperor spoiled for choice.

But this poor fourth-generation descendant of the Nie imperial line was spared the dilemma—one glance at these four masterpieces would be enough to blind the royal eyes.

Sure enough, when the portraits were unfurled before the emperor, the usually composed sovereign stared open-mouthed for a long moment.

Nie Qinglin realized she had underestimated the proud, cold-hearted Grand Tutor’s vindictiveness.

She had assumed the warm chamber incident was water under the bridge after so many peaceful days.

But the Grand Tutor had taken her words about “harmonizing with a beloved woman” to heart, conjuring up this parade of eager brides.

If she were truly a man, it might not matter—a virtuous but plain wife could still be a worthy empress, sharing a harmonious life.

But she was a woman herself!

These consorts would be doomed to barren widowhood.

Gazing at the “unique” portraits, Nie Qinglin sighed inwardly: Dear sisters, I know you yearn for marriage, but I am powerless! How could I ruin your lives?

———extra translator note———

Wang Zhaojun is perhaps one of the most well-known beauties of ancient China. She was a native of Zigui in Western Hubei province. She entered the imperial harem during the reign of Emperor Yuan of Western Han (48-33 BC). As the emperor had a large harem of maidens, he chose his companions by looking at their portraits. The court painter, Mao Yanshou had painted an unflattering portrait of Wang Zhaojun because she refused to bribe him. As a result, she failed to receive the emperor’s favour.

When the northern barbarous nation, Xiongnu chieftain, Huhanxie became a subject of the Han empire, he asked the Emperor to grant him a Han beauty as his empress. To consolidate the relations with the Xiongnu, Emperor Yuan acceded to the request. However, he was not prepared to part with any of his beautiful maidens. He chose Wang Zhojun as the bride for Huhanxie as she appeared ordinary and plain from the portrait.

It was only when she was summoned before the emperor prior to her departure that Emperor Yuan realised his terrible mistake. To his amazement and dismay, she turned out to be the most beautiful of the maidens in his harem. However, it was too late for the Emperor to change his decision. In anguish and sorrow, he parted with Wang Zhaojun. Mao Yanshou was subsequently put to death for deceiving the Emperor.

The fate of Wang Zhaojun had however been sealed. With saddness, Wang Zhaojun, clutching her Pipa (a musical instrument) to her bosom, departed from Changan and travelled beyond the Great Wall to the land of the Xiongnu.