The emperor had recently caught a cold and hadn’t attended court for quite a while. Today was no different—only after the civil and military officials had arrived at Taiji Palace did they find out that morning court had once again been canceled.
On the first and fifth days of each ten-day cycle, the emperor was supposed to hold court at Taiji Palace to listen to matters of state. But now, with two consecutive sessions canceled, it was starting to seem suspicious.
“The Sage hasn’t been to court in nearly a month. I wonder if his health is alright.”
“The eunuch said the Sage caught a cold—perhaps he still hasn’t fully recovered.”
The officials murmured amongst themselves. But just because the emperor didn’t attend court didn’t mean that state affairs came to a halt. The various departments within the imperial city remained busy. The Six Ministries continued to receive memorials from officials posted outside the capital. After organizing them, the ministries would pass the documents to the chancellors, who would then submit them to the Sage.
The imperial responses came back quickly. But to the officials’ surprise, the edicts did not appear to be written in the emperor’s handwriting—instead, the script resembled that of Princess Qianning.
“What is the meaning of this? How can a woman interfere in state affairs?”
The eunuch delivering the decree said, “Please be calm, gentlemen. His Majesty has said that due to his illness, he has trouble writing at the moment, so Princess Qianning is temporarily serving as his scribe. Not just for today—she will likely continue assisting His Majesty for some time.”
The emperor of Xuanchao was not particularly opposed to women participating in governance—there were many precedents of empresses and consorts inquiring about political matters. But in those cases, they merely offered advice or suggestions. This was the first time a woman had written directly on imperial memorials. The ministers glanced at one another, all feeling that the situation was utterly absurd. Yet, for the sake of the emperor’s dignity, they couldn’t speak out and had to swallow their dissatisfaction.
In the eyes of the ministers, no matter how clever or sharp Princess Qianning might be, she was still a woman. It was one thing for her to dominate the inner palace, but the affairs of the front court were not something a mere princess should be meddling in. No one in the administration supported her actions. They only tolerated it out of respect for the emperor’s wishes.
At the time, everyone believed this was just a momentary lapse in judgment on the emperor’s part—perhaps he had been pestered by the princess to the point of giving in. Sooner or later, power over state affairs would return to his own hands.
Rong Ke’s guess wasn’t wrong. No one in court took her seriously—no one was even willing to support her.
Amid the ministers’ noise and confusion, a dispatch order arrived at the Ministry of Personnel, bearing the crimson dragon seal.
“By order of the Sage: Summon Xiao Jingduo of Jiannan Province to return to the capital and take up his new post. He is to depart immediately without delay.”
…
In Jinjiang County, the end of the year was approaching, and the atmosphere in the county office was one of festive cheer.
Qiuju cheerfully brought Xiao Jingduo a fresh cup of hot tea. “Young Master, another year has gone by already. We’ve just tallied up the new census data—Jinjiang County now has over five thousand registered residents! At this rate, we’ll be promoted to an upper-tier county next year, won’t we?”
Normally, only through imperial grace or proximity to the imperial mausoleum could a lower or mid-tier county be exceptionally promoted to an upper-tier county. Counties that had truly earned their promotion through their own merit could be counted on one hand. After all, a county’s geographical location was fixed—how could several thousand new households suddenly appear out of nowhere?
And yet, the previously unknown Jinjiang County had done just that. Qiuju felt honored by association. Not just Qiuju—these past few days, everyone at the county office walked with a spring in their step, immersed in the joy that their county was about to be promoted.
Xiao Jingduo had already compiled all the materials. The next step was to draft the official report and submit it to the supervising regional governor.
For Xiao Jingduo, this was practically a trivial matter. So everyone was convinced that the promotion was already a sure thing.
When Chen Ci came to deliver sewing supplies, she happened to overhear Qiuju’s words. Smiling, she added, “Raising a mid-tier county to an upper-tier one during one’s term in office—that’s an incredible achievement. Magistrate Xiao’s record will gain another impressive merit. This is wonderful news. Allow me to congratulate Magistrate Xiao in advance.”
Qiuju beamed with delight. Xiao Jingduo also gave a faint smile. “Miss Chen, you flatter me.”
He was about to say more when suddenly the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from outside. Xiao Jingduo’s expression subtly shifted—he could tell something urgent had happened.
Qiuju muttered in a low voice, “But today is supposed to be the young master’s day off. Who’s so inconsiderate? He works tirelessly all week, and on his one day of rest, someone dares to disturb him?”
One glance from Xiao Jingduo, and Qiuju immediately quieted down. Before they could speak further, a messenger had already rushed in.
“Magistrate! A dispatch from Chang’an has arrived!”
Everyone was startled at the mention of a transfer order from Chang’an. Xiao Jingduo immediately stepped forward, took the letter from the messenger, and opened it swiftly.
After reading it, his expression had turned grim.
Qiuju and the others stared at him eagerly. But when they saw his expression, their hearts tightened in worry.
“Young master, what did the court say?”
“The Ministry of Personnel is transferring me back to the capital for a new appointment.”
Qiuju let out a breath of relief and broke into a broad smile.
“That’s great news! But the way your face looked just now really frightened me.”
Even Chen Ci smiled gently.
“Two blessings at once. Congratulations, Magistrate Xiao.”
“It’s perfect timing—just as we’re submitting the promotion request for the county. By the time the decree approving the promotion arrives, we’ll be returning to the capital! This is wonderful!” Qiuju could barely contain her excitement.
But despite receiving a summons to return, Xiao Jingduo didn’t look happy. He murmured quietly,
“It’s too late.”
“Too late? What do you mean?”
“Qiuju, go inside and have the household pack. Move as quickly as you can to get everything in order.
Xiao Lin, go outside and prepare the carriages—we leave in three days.”
“Ah? So soon?” Qiuju asked in confusion.
“But what about the county promotion? Are we not submitting the application anymore?”
“All the materials are ready—let the new magistrate submit the petition.”
During his tenure, Xiao Jingduo had elevated his county from a mid-tier to an upper-tier county—this was, without doubt, the most prestigious and significant achievement of his entire time as magistrate. And yet, he gave away this accomplishment so easily.
Others could hardly believe it when they heard:
“Magistrate, when an official is reassigned, there’s usually a one- or two-month transition period. The new magistrate won’t arrive immediately—why are you leaving in such a hurry? At least wait until the promotion goes through and claim the credit for yourself!”
But Xiao Jingduo merely shook his head and replied with one sentence:
“There’s no time.”
The emperor was gravely ill, and in the court, only Rong Ke was holding things together. How could he feel at ease staying here, waiting for honors and rewards? He had to return immediately—not a moment could be spared.
That year, many people had an uneasy New Year. In Chang’an, there was an atmosphere of fear and tension, and in Jinjiang County, only sorrow and regret.
The handsome and capable Magistrate Xiao had been transferred back to the capital. The townspeople had anticipated this result, but they never imagined it would come so suddenly, without any warning.
What made it even more heartbreaking was that Magistrate Xiao seemed to be dealing with something urgent. He couldn’t even wait a single day. Before word of his reassignment had even spread through Jinjiang County, his carriage was already rumbling out of town. Many townspeople stood beneath the city wall, watching him leave with reluctant eyes, following his figure until it disappeared from sight.
Xiao Jingduo had given up an achievement within arm’s reach, traveling day and night under the stars to reach Chang’an. But even so, he was still a step too late.
After four years, Xiao Jingduo returned to the capital once more. Chang’an was blanketed in snow, and the long, echoing sound of bells rang across all 108 wards of the city, making the world seem even more empty and cold, the wind biting to the bone.
For three months, the bells rang in every temple across the land—an omen of an emperor’s passing.
In just four years, the Great Xuan Dynasty had lost two emperors.
Emperor Rong Mingzhe now had to be referred to as the late emperor. Before his death, the late emperor issued an imperial edict, passing the throne to Crown Prince Rong Lang. Since the new emperor was still young, he specially appointed his eldest legitimate daughter, Princess Qianning, as the Regent Princess, to oversee the affairs of the state.
Once the new emperor came of age, power would be returned to him.
This edict sent shockwaves through the quiet capital of Chang’an.
Crown Prince Rong Lang was the late emperor’s only legitimate son, so everyone in the court had expected him to inherit the throne. But no one could have imagined that the person entrusted with regency was not a grand chancellor, not a prince, not even the empress dowager—
A princess regent. It was a decision so unprecedented, it stunned the empire. For a time, the court was in an uproar—even the prime ministers who had watched Rong Ke grow up wore grave expressions and urged the emperor to reconsider.
By that point, Rong Mingzhe was already very weak. And yet, his bearing had not diminished in the slightest. On the contrary, his gauntness only made him seem more composed and wise. He was absolutely resolute: even in front of a hall full of ministers, he never wavered, insisting that the power of the state be handed over to his eldest daughter—a girl of only sixteen years old.
And so, amid the court’s fierce debate, Rong Ke formally assumed authority over the government. From that moment on, the entire nation would know: the red ink on the memorials was not the princess quoting imperial words—it was her own judgment and will.
In the first month of the lunar year, Rong Mingzhe formally brought Rong Ke to the forefront. In his final days, he wanted to protect her and at least let her truly take the reins. With Rong Mingzhe still alive to back her, the old ministers and royal princes would be forced to restrain themselves somewhat. Unfortunately, even this last wish of Rong Mingzhe’s was not granted by the heavens—he lasted only a few more days before passing away with deep regret.
In the fourth year of the Jianyuan era, the emperor passed away. That year, Princess Qianning was sixteen, and the new emperor, Rong Lang, was eight.
A country cannot go a single day without a sovereign. Even though Rong Mingzhe had only just died and Rong Lang was still in mourning, the court urged him to don the imperial robe and ascend to the Gate of Taiji Palace
The palace road from the Gate to Taiji Palace was long, the stairs rising one after another like mountain ridges, seemingly without end. The young Rong Lang, who had just lost his father and hadn’t yet fully processed what had happened, was hurriedly dressed in the heavy imperial regalia and pushed to the gate. In the biting cold wind, he stood there to receive the bowing of all the officials.
Looking at the seemingly endless stone steps ahead, Rong Lang’s voice began to tremble with the sound of tears. He tugged gently on his sister’s sleeve and whispered,
“A-jie… I’m scared.”
“Don’t be afraid, A-Lang.”
His elder sister had also changed out of her mourning clothes and into the solemn black robe of state. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead at the Hall of Supreme Harmony. With a calm demeanor, she held out her hand toward Rong Lang.
“Give me your hand.”
Rong Lang had just turned seven. He had always been sheltered within the inner palace, rarely seeing anyone outside his own family. Now, standing under the scrutiny of so many eyes, he was undeniably terrified. But when his sister reached out to him—expressionless, her voice devoid of any obvious emotion—he nevertheless felt a strange sense of calm.
He placed his hand in hers, and with his elder sister leading him, step by step, he ascended to the highest palace of the empire.
When the officials outside the Taiji Palace saw the new emperor reach the top, their hearts were filled with complicated emotions. Yet they still bowed in perfect unison. In that moment, all that could be seen was a sea of officials prostrating themselves.
“Long live the Emperor! Long live Princess Qianning!”
After the enthronement ceremony, the young emperor Rong Lang—later known as Emperor Chengzong—entered the pages of history. At the same time, another highly unusual princess began to make a name for herself.
In the fourth year of the Jian’an era, the late emperor Rong Mingzhe—praised in the history books as a model crown prince of all time—passed away. But his death also signaled the beginning of the Qianning Era.
Despite racing day and night, Xiao Jingduo still did not manage to see the late emperor one last time. He didn’t even make it in time for the new emperor’s coronation ceremony.
Xiao Jingduo returned to Chang’an with only a handful of attendants, only to find the capital in a state of bleak mourning.
Chang’an never lacked for new happenings. Even in the cold of winter, its liveliness was hard to suppress. But during a national mourning period, music and festivities were banned, and even the constant flow of carriages and horses had slowed to a near halt. The once-bustling city had fallen silent.
More than that, even ordinary citizens—though unaware of the undercurrents in the court—could sense that something extraordinary was happening. The late emperor had not appointed a regent king, nor had he allowed the empress dowager to govern from behind the curtain. Instead, he had entrusted power to Princess Qianning. Even commoners could tell this was out of the ordinary. With the nation in a time of turbulence, people kept their heads down and avoided trouble. In those days, most didn’t even step outside their doors—let alone anything more.
Even Qiuju, who didn’t understand politics, could sense something was wrong. She asked uneasily,
“Young Master, what’s going on?”
The Chang’an in her memory was never like this.
Chen Ci, who was carrying her father’s memorial tablet, had also traveled to the capital with Xiao Jingduo and the others to seek refuge with her aunt. This was her first time in Chang’an. When she saw the streets, she already had a bad feeling—and now hearing Qiuju speak, her unease deepened.
“What’s happened? Did something go wrong?”
If the women could feel it, then all the more so could Xiao Jingduo. As he looked upon the silent, cold, and somber Chang’an, it was as if he could already see the political undercurrents and the glint of blades hidden in the court. His heart ached.
Rong Ke had just lost her father. The grief of bereavement hadn’t even had time to settle, and now she was being thrust into such a hostile and unfriendly beginning—without even a moment to catch her breath.
Was she… suffering terribly right now?
But standing in the middle of the street clearly wasn’t a good choice. In just the short time they’d been there, Qiuju had already noticed several groups secretly observing them—including members of the patrol guard. She tugged gently at Xiao Jingduo’s sleeve in warning.
“Young Master, we shouldn’t linger here. Why don’t we return to the marquis estate first?”
Now that he was an official, things weren’t like before. Upon receiving the letter saying Xiao Jingduo was returning to the capital, the Dowager Lady had sent servants early to wait at the city gate. At this moment, the retainers from the marquis’s residence were all watching Xiao Jingduo eagerly, waiting for his instruction.
Chen Ci curiously sized up the servants who had come to greet them.
So this was the grandeur of a marquis’s household in the capital…
Magistrate Xiao really did come from an extraordinary background.
Xiao Jingduo glanced north one more time, still unable to let it go.
“No. You go back with the servants first. I need to report for duty right away.
Xiao Lin, personally escort Miss Chen to her aunt’s house—be extremely careful on the way. Don’t let your guard down.”
Xiao Lin accepted the order. The marquis’s servants, however, couldn’t make sense of it.
“Young Master, what’s the rush? Reporting for duty doesn’t have to be done this very moment. At least return to the estate to change your clothes and rest for a day.
The Dowager Lady is still waiting for you back at the marquis’s manor.”
But while they were still speaking, Xiao Jingduo had already mounted his horse. With a flick of the reins, he galloped off into the distance. The servants from the marquis estate were left choking on dust, inwardly resentful and annoyed.
Now that they had arrived in the capital, it was time for Chen Ci to part ways with Qiuju and the others. The women reluctantly bid farewell to one another, then each got into their own carriage and, escorted by attendants, departed in two different directions.
It wasn’t until the other carriage had completely disappeared from view that Chen Ci let go of the curtain and sighed softly.
In the past four years in Jinjiang County, the Xiao Jingduo she had known was always composed and unhurried, confident and in control. She had never seen him act like this—so sharp and unwilling to spare anyone even the slightest consideration. Even if he had a strained relationship with his family, based on his character, he wouldn’t have taken it out on the household staff.
So today—why couldn’t he bear to hear even one complete sentence before storming off?
Was reporting to the Ministry of Personnel really so urgent?
Xiao Jingduo was filled with urgency, unable to wait even a single moment. He didn’t even bother to hear the servants finish what they were saying—because no matter what they said, it would all be about persuading him to return to the marquis’s residence and pay respects to his grandmother and father.
But none of that could compare to what he needed to do now.
Xiao Jingduo rushed to the imperial palace as fast as he could and handed in his calling card.
His official rank was still too low to be granted an audience with the sovereign at will. Although Rong Ke was technically only a princess, she was now overseeing the affairs of state—essentially no different from an emperor with full authority. For Xiao Jingduo to request to see her without prior notice was rather bold, and the chances of success were slim.
Xiao Jingduo had not held out much hope. But unexpectedly, in less than half an hour, someone from the palace came to fetch him and led him inside.
As he looked around, he saw white mourning banners hanging everywhere in the Taiji Palace. Against the backdrop of withered branches and lingering snow, the grand palace buildings appeared even more solemn and cold. Xiao Jingduo was escorted to Liangyi Hall. and the moment he stepped inside, he saw Rong Ke dressed in full mourning garb.
A sudden, inexplicable ache hit him in the chest. Almost without thinking, he called out:
“Your Highness…”
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