TGPSAC – Chapter 107

At the Mid-Autumn Festival banquet, the news of the Grand Princess’s pregnancy was like a bombshell, leaving everyone reeling.

By all accounts, the Grand Princess and the Fuma had been married for quite a short time. In some families, if a Kun Ze hadn’t conceived after this long, they might have already started arranging for the Qian Yuan to take a concubine.

Unless the couple had a poor relationship or a physical problem, a child was inevitable sooner or later.

And the relationship between the Grand Princess and the Fuma seemed quite good, so a pregnancy was normal. No wonder the Fuma, despite inspecting the military camps and working herself to the bone from dawn till dusk, had insisted on returning to the capital.

Many also recalled something Chi Wan had said last year: that her child would bear the surname Yu and be entered into the imperial family’s genealogical records.

In that case, the child would not be the Emperor’s maternal grandchild, but a direct grandchild—a true imperial grandchild.

Prince Bao’an had children with his concubines, more than one, but his children were recorded in the genealogy of the Prince Bao’an Residence. Although they were also noted in the imperial records, it was as “son/daughter of Prince Bao’an.”

When Yu Jiuzhou’s child was born, the records would state “grandchild of Emperor Shengyuan.”

Prince Bao’an’s ancestors for the past three to five generations were all princes, while Yu Jiuzhou’s were all emperors. That was the difference.

Yu Jiuzhou was only a princess and not a major threat, but if her child was recorded in the genealogy and became an imperial grandchild, then that grandchild could very well become the next emperor.

The child of Yu Jiuzhou must not be allowed into the genealogical records. No, more than that—she must not be allowed to give birth to the child at all.

Prince Bao’an’s gaze rested darkly on Yu Jiuzhou’s abdomen, but he looked away in an instant.

He would make a move, but it could not be traced back to him. The remnants of Prince Zhongshan’s faction, Prince Ying’s faction, and various “accidents”—these pretexts would be more than enough.

Yu Jiuzhou felt nothing, but Chi Wan sensed the single, malicious glance from Prince Bao’an.

A silver needle appeared in her hand, but she ultimately put it away.

Prince Bao’an was accompanied by an expert in internal energy; she couldn’t act directly.

The male protagonist was the male protagonist, after all, surrounded by no shortage of talented people. With his rivals gone, Prince Bao’an’s power had been expanding exponentially of late.

But Yu Jiuzhou had been reborn. If this were a rebirth novel, the protagonist would have changed.

Chi Wan did not believe that Prince Bao’an was mandated by heaven. Everything would only be known after the fight.

After the news of Yu Jiuzhou’s pregnancy spread, it was followed by the news of her allergies. She refused all visitors, and even the Grand Secretariat had to relocate to the Princess’s Residence to conduct business.

It was said that when the Grand Princess met with the members of the Grand Secretariat, she used a screen to separate them, giving the impression that her allergies were extremely severe.

Fortunately, Chi Wan had already spoken with Emperor Shengyuan. When it came to protecting his imperial grandchild, the emperor was definitely on their side, so he had no objections to the Grand Secretariat moving into the Princess’s Residence.

Meanwhile, Chi Wan was in the examination hall, serving as the chief examiner for the autumn provincial examinations.

Great Zhou’s civil service examination system was quite well-established, so she mostly just had to sit in her office.

But a problem arose after the exams were finished, during the transcription of the answer sheets.

She was supposed to be supervising the scribes as they copied the papers, but she saw some who were not copying, but writing out a new set of answers from memory.

Others had made marks on the exam papers, or were copying one person’s paper onto another’s sheet.

Looking at these officials from the Ministry of Rites, Chi Wan felt a true anger ignite for the first time. These people were far too brazen.

Scholars studied bitterly for years, only to have their essays swapped or their rankings stolen, while those without any learning could make it onto the list of successful candidates.

She immediately halted the transcription of the essays and summoned literate members of the Imperial City Division to copy them instead.

Consequently, when it came time to grade the papers, the examining officials stared at the headache-inducing handwriting with speechless expressions.

But none of them dared to say a word. The officials who had caused the trouble were locked up in the Imperial City Division, and overnight, a sense of crisis swept through the capital.

Once inside the dungeons of the Imperial City Division, those men didn’t last long before confessing who had instructed them. With the mastermind identified, arrests could be made.

To dare cause trouble while she was chief examiner—did they think her Imperial City Division was a pushover?

Without any reference marks to go by, the examining officials could only grade the papers honestly.

In fact, two from their own ranks had already been arrested and replaced with new examiners.

None of the civil and military officials in the court had expected Chi Wan to be so unyielding, unable to tolerate even a single grain of sand in her eye.

Then again, for someone who refused to use any special privileges, such a style of doing things was to be expected.

Chi Wan’s actions further solidified her public image. The newspapers naturally reported on it; doing good deeds without seeking recognition was not her style.

Knowing that Chi Wan had protected the fairness and integrity of the examinations, even scholars from outside the capital held her in high esteem.

The scholars already in the capital jointly submitted a petition recommending Chi Wan as the chief examiner for the spring metropolitan examinations the following year.

The Emperor was inclined to agree, but he wanted to test the court’s reaction.

Emperor Shengyuan, who had not held court for a long time, convened a rare session. Yu Jiuzhou did not attend; Chi Wan’s presence was sufficient.

It was just one court session; there was no need for both of them to appear.

At court, Emperor Shengyuan mentioned the scholars’ petition. As expected, the majority of officials were opposed.

This was also because Chi Wan had given prior instructions for her own people not to make a move. Otherwise, the more support she received, the more suspicious the Emperor would become.

“Your Majesty, the Fuma has already served as the chief examiner for the capital’s autumn examinations. It would be inappropriate for her to serve again for the spring examinations.”

“Indeed. The Fuma is the mentor to the capital’s scholars. How can she serve as the chief examiner for scholars from all under Heaven?”

“Insolence! Are you suggesting the Fuma would engage in favoritism?”

“We naturally trust that the Fuma would not do such a thing, but what of the scholars and common people of the realm? They do not know the inner details. What if they were to think so?”

“Hmph, look at the petition. The signatories are not just from the capital. This shows that scholars throughout the realm respect the Fuma.”

“That was then, this is now. When the time comes, will the scholars who fail the examination not harbor resentment?”

This argument had merit. Some people might not think much of it before the exam, but if they failed, they might very well resort to slander.

Hearing this, Chi Wan immediately stepped forward to present a memorial. “Your Majesty, this subject has a proposal.”

“Proceed.”

“This subject believes that all the essays from the autumn examinations should be posted publicly. First, this will allow the failed scholars to understand where they fell short and how to improve in the future. Second, this subject feels that although there is no absolute first in literature, a good essay is plain for all to see.”

Some would surely be unconvinced by this, but they would be a small minority. Most would approach it with an attitude of learning.

Most importantly, Chi Wan wanted those who attempted to cheat to see for themselves: if they dared to tamper with things, would they dare to have their essays judged by all the people under Heaven?

The spring examinations were strict, and the palace examination was even stricter. If the essays from both were posted, even if someone managed to cheat in the former, the latter was held in the imperial palace, under the watchful eyes of countless officials and the Palace Command. Without knowing the topic in advance, there was no possibility of memorizing an essay beforehand.

The topics for the spring examinations were also kept strictly confidential, but the palace examination topics were given by the emperor on the spot, making it even more secure.

And just in case—in the unlikely event that cheating occurred in the spring examinations and went undetected—a comparison of the two essays would surely reveal discrepancies.

For the sake of the examinations’ integrity, Chi Wan felt this was absolutely necessary.

Fairness and justice were easy to say but, in reality, a luxury. Even when two people were on equal footing, the prejudices in people’s hearts—perhaps a person’s appearance or manner of speaking—could tip the scales.

Objective judgment was rare, as were people who strictly followed the law.

To say nothing of others, even Great Zhou’s most authoritative Three Judicial Offices did not always pass judgment strictly according to the law.

But Chi Wan’s Imperial City Division did. Regardless of a person’s background or status, they acted strictly in accordance with the law. They had to give an account to the scholars who had studied bitterly for years, and to the families who supported them.

They also had to let the people of Great Zhou know that in the future, when they sent their children to study, as long as the child had talent, they need not fear that a lack of connections would hinder their future.

Chi Wan couldn’t guarantee this outcome, but what she could guarantee was severe punishment for those who acted unfairly.

Under the threat of severe punishment, the examinations would surely become less corrupt.

Everyone could see that Chi Wan was striving for fairness in the examinations.

Many officials from less privileged backgrounds felt an inexplicable surge of emotion. If they had encountered such a chief examiner back then, would they have had to do those things?

Setting aside what they had endured before passing the examinations, just think of what came after. For those of them who placed lower on the list, securing a decent appointment required bankrupting their families to pull strings, the most direct way being to bind themselves to the war chariot of a so-called “mentor.”

From then on, whenever some dirty work needed to be done, they were the ones who took the fall. If they didn’t play along, there were many uncivilized regions in Great Zhou where officials were sent to die with alarming frequency.

Who wasn’t afraid of death? Being someone’s dog was better than being dead.

But now, the Fuma was fighting for a fair chance for all the scholars of the realm. They had been through it themselves, but they were still minor officials, and their own children would also have to take the examinations.

“This subject seconds the motion.”

“This subject seconds the motion.”

In an instant, a number of officials of low rank and with no significant backing stepped forward.

The Emperor had wanted Chi Wan to be the chief examiner for the spring examinations from the start and was pleased to see her receive support, especially since it came from minor officials who were genuinely moved.

If all the high-ranking officials in the court had also supported Chi Wan, he would have had to think twice.

But this proposal was cutting off the back-door routes for their own children, so he figured they wouldn’t speak up for the Fuma.

The Emperor directly approved her proposal. “Given the Fuma’s fairness and integrity, do any of you ministers have any objections to her serving as the chief examiner for the spring examinations?”

With the Emperor having spoken so, who would dare to have an opinion? And even if they did, they wouldn’t dare voice it.

“We have no objections.”

“In that case, it is settled.”

After serving as the chief examiner for the capital’s autumn examinations, Chi Wan was officially confirmed as the chief examiner for the spring examinations.

The chief examiner for the spring examinations could participate in creating the questions. She was only the primary chief examiner; by rights, there should be four, with her at the head. The others would be a Vice Minister of Rites and two scholars from the Hanlin Academy.

There was a saying: the Zhuangyuan, Bangyan, and Tanhua enjoy a glorious parade through the streets, but once they enter the Hanlin Academy, their workstation has the Tanhua on the left, the Bangyan on the right, and the Zhuangyuan in front.

Ask around, and half of them were former top-three scholars.

As former top-three examination laureates and members of the Grand Secretariat, the Hanlin scholars were destined to become Grand Secretaries as long as they didn’t make any mistakes, so they were naturally qualified to be examiners for the spring examinations.

Chi Wan returned to the Princess’s Residence and recounted the day’s events at court.

Yu Jiuzhou smiled, her tone calm. “The Emperor knows I am with child, so he will certainly make plans for the child in my womb. He desperately hopes it is an imperial grandson.”

It wasn’t even certain if the child would be a Qian Yuan, but the months of her pregnancy were the perfect time to seize power from the Emperor.

Because if the Emperor wanted to establish an Imperial Grandson as heir, he would pave the way for him.

And how would he pave the way? Who would wholeheartedly support the Imperial Grandson? Naturally, it would be the Imperial Grandson’s mothers.

One mother was the Regent Grand Princess, and the other held military power and was the mentor to many scholars.

The Emperor would slowly grant the two of them more power, waiting for them to support the Imperial Grandson as he grew up.

By then, who could possibly contend with the Imperial Grandson?

After all, no matter how confident Emperor Shengyuan was, he knew he was getting on in years. He knew his own body.

Of course, he still believed he could live for another ten years. But even in ten years, the Imperial Grandson would only be ten years old. With a young ruler, the state would be in doubt; he would still need the protection of his elders.

The only ones the Imperial Grandson could rely on were the Grand Princess and the Fuma.

He was thinking that once the Imperial Grandson turned one, he would take him to be raised by his side. For now, the most important thing was to build up the Imperial Grandson’s power base.

Would Yu Jiuzhou and Chi Wan not give the power in their hands to their own child? Their child was the future emperor.

Emperor Shengyuan was very confident his calculations would come true, on the premise that the Imperial Grandson was actually born.

But he would never imagine that his life was about to end.

In fact, if possible, Yu Jiuzhou and Chi Wan would have preferred him to live another two years. Although the Emperor was rather incompetent, as long as he was there, their power was legitimate, and they could accumulate more influence.

Then, one day, they could make him a puppet emperor, have him abdicate to become a Retired Emperor, and let Yu Jiuzhou become the new Emperor.

This was the most bloodless and legitimate method of succession.

Yu Jiuzhou couldn’t achieve that now, but in another two years—no, less than two years—she might have been able to accomplish it all.

Unfortunately, Chi Wan had made her diagnosis. Emperor Shengyuan’s body was in its final stages.

If things followed the course of her previous life, it was now the twenty-ninth of the eighth month, almost the ninth. Emperor Shengyuan would pass away in the third month—exactly half a year from now.

Yu Jiuzhou looked at the constantly chiming wind chimes and sighed softly, “The winds in this capital have never ceased.”

It was just that in the bleakness of autumn, the wind blew a little stronger.

Chi Wan pinched her ear, earning a soft hum from the beauty. She couldn’t help but smile. “No matter how strong the wind, I have Your Highness to block it for me.”

Yu Jiuzhou: “?” Listen to that. Were those the words of a human? In other couples, the Qian Yuan shielded the Kun Ze from the wind. Her Qian Yuan, on the other hand, wanted her to do the shielding.

Seeing that Yu Jiuzhou was about to get angry, Chi Wan quickly stroked her belly. “You mustn’t get angry. I’ll use my internal energy to nourish your body.”

Internal energy could not only nourish the body but also help Yu Jiuzhou maintain her figure, control the size of the babies in her womb, and even adjust their positions.

However, it required daily nourishment, which was a significant drain on her. Each session left her drenched in sweat, her clothes wet enough to wring out.

But she didn’t want to have to use acupuncture on Yu Jiuzhou during labor, so she was willing to endure the exhaustion. This could be considered her and Yu Jiuzhou’s way of jointly carrying the children.

The difference was that she used internal energy. By circulating it through Yu Jiuzhou’s entire body every day and then tracing the forms of the babies, she could feel them growing, bit by bit.

Nourished by her internal energy, Yu Jiuzhou’s health would be excellent, without so much as a cold or cough during the pregnancy, and the children’s constitutions would also be very good.

In the language of cultivation, this was like building their foundation in advance.

Even so, Chi Wan was still quite worried. Childbirth, especially in ancient times, was dangerous. She had to make thorough preparations.

A sterile room, and all the equipment needed inside… In the future, she might have to promote this throughout Great Zhou. The Great Zhou Medical Bureau would have branches in every province, like Great Zhou’s version of a top-tier hospital. Creating a sterile room within them wouldn’t be difficult with proper procedures.

The technology of this era was limited, and so was what she could do, but she would change as much as she possibly could.

Chi Wan couldn’t help but think that they couldn’t have any more children after this. She had no particular attachment to having children. A life alone was fine, a life with a lover was best, and children were optional.

But she couldn’t say this to Yu Jiuzhou. Pregnant women were prone to overthinking, and she didn’t want to give Yu Jiuzhou any extra worries.

After another session of nourishing Yu Jiuzhou’s body, Chi Wan was once again covered in sweat.

She was exhausted, but Yu Jiuzhou looked refreshed and invigorated.

A mischievous thought arose in Chi Wan’s mind, and she gave Yu Jiuzhou a big hug.

Yu Jiuzhou: “?” She had already bathed.

So what? She could always bathe again.

Then, Chi Wan grinned. “Your Highness, shall we go together?”

Yu Jiuzhou: “…” Scoundrel.

“Chi Wan!”

“This subject is here.”

“Hmph.” Yu Jiuzhou looked at her indignantly, but finally said, “Serve me.”

“As you command!”

Chi Wan smiled faintly and bent down to lift Yu Jiuzhou into her arms.

A princess carry, to carry a princess?

At this thought, Chi Wan’s smile grew wider.

Seeing her wicked grin, Yu Jiuzhou couldn’t help but pinch her cheek. “No more of that from now on.”

“What?”

It took Chi Wan a moment to realize Yu Jiuzhou was talking about intimacy during the later stages of pregnancy.

Ah… Her Highness’s mind… was certainly something else.

---

Get instant access to all chapters now.