Chapter 60

During the next day’s early court discussions, Fu Ping’an brought up the matter.

“I am still young and require the instruction of a strict teacher. Therefore, the position of Grand Tutor should be filled as soon as possible. I wonder if any of you have recommendations? I am well aware that my own abilities are limited—it would be ideal if a famous master or great scholar could be found.”

Her tone was earnest. The Head of the Imperial Clan, Fu Zheng, immediately responded, “Your Majesty is precociously brilliant, overflowing with talent. What talk is this of ‘limited abilities’?”

The Grand Servant, Peng Ling, echoed, “Precisely so. If one speaks of innate ability, Your Majesty’s is surely of the first order in the world.”

The Prime Minister, Fang Zicong, added mildly, “Your Majesty is the Child of Heaven—why belittle yourself so?”

Fu Ping’an could fully understand the first two flattering her, but even Fang Zicong joined in. However, after scrutinizing his expression more closely, she felt Fang Zicong was simply saying it offhand. He soon continued, “The erudites at the Imperial Academy could all serve as Your Majesty’s Grand Tutor.”

Clearly, Fang Zicong preferred the position of Grand Tutor to remain a hollow title.

This was easy to understand. The Three Ducal Ministers constituted the uppermost tier of the state’s power structure. If the Grand Tutor became a substantive office, wouldn’t that make Four Excellencies? The pie was only so big; with an extra person dividing it, everyone else got a smaller piece.

Fu Ping’an did not take that bait. “If a learned scholar comes to instruct me,” she said, “presumably all of you ministers would feel more at ease and convinced. If the candidate’s talent and ability are not even equal to any of yours, then why not simply select one of you to hold the post concurrently?”

Hearing this, everyone was taken aback.

This was a path no one had ever considered.

Did Her Majesty’s words imply… that anyone present here had a chance?

Immediately, the atmosphere shifted. No one rushed to recommend anyone anymore, but instead expressed that the matter required further careful deliberation.

Fu Ping’an was certainly in no hurry. She moved on to discuss other matters. As the session was nearing its end, she asked offhandedly, “Speaking of which, how is the Duke of Ying’s back injury?”

The Grand Servant Peng Ling replied, “Your servant visited the Duke of Ying the day before yesterday. It is indeed a severe flare-up of his old injury; he can barely rise from his bed.”

Fu Ping’an said, “Alas, my heart is truly anxious. I almost wish to visit him at his manor myself.”

As soon as she spoke, someone objected: “Your Majesty must not. What if there were another person like the traitorous Bo? Your Majesty should remain securely in the palace—that is truly the nation’s blessing.”

Fu Ping’an glanced towards the Commandant of the Palace Guard. “Is the capital still so unsafe?”

The Commandant of the Palace Guard was responsible for the palace guard and theoretically for ensuring the security of the capital. After the last assassination attempt by Bo Wei, the previous Commandant had been demoted. The current Commandant was newly appointed—a man not from the Six Great Families, but a son of a humble background who had benefited from the power struggles between the great houses. Naturally, he didn’t want his tenure stamped with dereliction of duty right from the start. He hurriedly said, “Currently, patrols in the city are very strict. Officers are sent daily to patrol the whole city with spot identity checks. New arrivals into the city must first register and are not permitted to enter arbitrarily.”

Fu Ping’an asked with concern, “But such strictness—does it not affect the lives of the common people in the city?”

The Commandant replied, “I will also strictly order my subordinates not to harass the common people.”

The previous objector then stammered, “That is… I was not saying the capital is unsafe.”

Fang Zicong said, “When Her Majesty travels, roads must be cleared in advance and ceremonial escorts deployed. It inevitably disturbs the people and burdens the various officials. Such actions involve danger while also wasting manpower and resources. I believe it is entirely unnecessary.”

Fu Ping’an offered, “I could also travel with a light, simple retinue.”

Now even Tian Fen spoke up: “Absolutely not. Her Majesty’s noble body must not risk any harm.”

With the conversation reaching this point, Fu Ping’an couldn’t press further. The danmaku also chimed in:

[Chat Gives a Spring Branch: It’s unavoidable. Throughout history, officials never liked the emperor leaving the palace frequently.]

[Lone Star Wanderer: How should I put this… Actually, this is also a method of controlling the emperor—a way of isolating the emperor from the real world. This way, the emperor’s eyes and ears can only be his ministers, forcing the emperor to believe whatever the ministers say.]

[You Didn’t Take Your Medicine: Ah, well, in that case, the emperor asking “Why don’t they eat meat?” is also quite inevitable, isn’t it?]

[ova: Indeed. If you only look at books, how can you see the real world?]

[Darkness Under the Lamp: It’s actually strange. Scholars themselves say, “Traveling ten thousand li is better than reading ten thousand books.” Why would they think the emperor, shut indoors, could know everything?]

[Innocent and Naive: Could it be… they don’t actually think so, but are genuinely just fooling the emperor?]

As the person being “fooled,” Fu Ping’an did not show any dissatisfaction. She merely said, “Then it cannot be helped. I will dispatch an imperial physician to see the Duke of Ying and hope he recovers soon.”

She then turned to Fu Lingxian and asked, “Is my Royal Aunt in good health? Please do not endure any discomfort in silence.”

Fu Lingxian replied, “Your servant is well. It is Your Majesty who must be careful during the change of seasons, as you are prone to shortness of breath.”

“With my aunt’s concern, I will take careful note.”

Today’s discussions thus concluded with another exchange of affectionate platitudes between aunt and niece. After the session ended, Fu Ping’an reviewed the situation with the danmaku. They felt that steering the conversation towards the Prince Regent at the end was slightly too forced, and that her words carried a hint of veiled sarcasm.

As Fu Ping’an reflected on this, the danmaku added:

[Ha: Always bringing up Auntie, but completely ignoring your Uncle. Isn’t that a bit not good?]

Fu Ping’an thought this over and realized it was true. She hurriedly turned to Ah Zhi beside her: “Ah Zhi, go detain my uncle—I have something to discuss with him.”

Ah Zhi didn’t reply. Fu Ping’an turned her head, puzzled: “Ah Zhi?”

Ah Zhi’s eyes were dazed; she had indeed been lost in thought. Only when Fu Ping’an called out again did she startle, rushing to say: “Forgive me, Your Majesty. Your servant was lost in thought for a moment.”

Fu Ping’an, in good humor, said, “Go and call Elder Tian. I have words for him.”

Ah Zhi, filled with self-reproach, quickly ran off to detain Tian Fen. Once Tian Fen entered Chaoyang Palace, she stood alone outside and patted her own face lightly.

The sting sobered her a little, but also brought back memories of the previous day.

Initially, she hadn’t noticed anything at all. But during the meal, when reaching for a wine cup together, their fingers accidentally touched. The cup dropped to the floor with a crisp clink. Bo Mengshang turned crimson, both hands tucked tightly into her sleeves, and stammered, “My apologies, my apologies.”

Ah Zhi, who had felt nothing initially, now felt her own cheeks flush at the other’s reaction. She forced a calm tone: “It’s nothing.”

She warned herself internally not to overthink it. Bo Mengshang was a scion of a high noble house, a high-ranking minister from a young age—it was impossible for her to have feelings for someone like Ah Zhi.

Ah Zhi firmly convinced herself of this, and so, no matter how Bo Mengshang reacted afterwards, she resolved to act as if deaf and blind. Yet, at the moment of parting, the other woman, as if having steeled her resolve, finally spoke: “Miss Ah Zhi, after pondering over and over, I have decided to say these words.”

Ah Zhi’s heart leaped: What words?

“Don’t—”

She wanted to say “Don’t say it,” but before the words left her lips, the other had already spoken.

“Miss Ah Zhi, I… I have feelings for you. But I also know that I am about to journey thousands of li away and have no right to make any promises. So… I only wish for you to know what’s in my heart.”

Ah Zhi was momentarily speechless, her mind blank, staring at her.

Bo Mengshang, head lowered, didn’t dare look at her. “I’m not asking you to wait for me. I can only say… If, five years from now, I can return to the capital, and if I remain unmarried and you remain unwed, then might we…”

Ah Zhi finally found her voice: “No.”

Bo Mengshang went mute.

Ah Zhi said, “I truly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Having said this, she turned and fled.

But now, Ah Zhi was consumed with regret. How could she have said such a thing?

Governor Bo had selected her to serve at Her Majesty’s side, and later aided her immensely. She was Ah Zhi’s benefactor. No matter what, she should have been more courteous.

She regretted it deeply. Even today, she kept thinking that if she saw Governor Bo again, she must properly apologize. But when it came to responding to the other’s feelings, she simply didn’t know what to say.

Before yesterday, she had never imagined Bo Mengshang held such feelings for her.

She felt unworthy of Bo Mengshang, and from the moment she became Her Majesty’s personal attendant, she had resolved never to marry. After all, if she married and had to serve a husband and parents-in-law, when would she find time to work for Her Majesty?

But… what if it was Governor Bo?

As this thought occupied her mind, Elder Tian emerged from Chaoyang Palace. He glanced at Ah Zhi and said, “What are you thinking about? Her Majesty is calling you.”

Ah Zhi blushed and lowered her head as she entered Chaoyang Palace. Her Majesty beckoned her over and said, “Help me and Wang Ji refine the wording of this imperial writ, then send it to the Duke of Ying’s manor.”

Ah Zhi hurried forward, accepting the thin sheet of paper Her Majesty handed over. On it was written a passage inquiring after the Duke of Ying. Just as she was about to take it and withdraw, Fu Ping’an said, “Ah Zhi, are you feeling unwell? Your face is very red.”

To be caught by Her Majesty! Ah Zhi grew even more flustered. “Probably just… the weather is a bit warm.”

Fu Ping’an glanced down at the hand warmer she held pressed against her robes, then at the cloak draped over her shoulders. She wondered: Is my health really this fragile, without me even realizing it? Is it truly hot today?

[26735111: Hmph, that’s a lie. Looking at her expression, she’s clearly lovesick.]

[When the Pine Sound Rings: Hmm… It does look a little like that, doesn’t it.]

Lovesick?

Fu Ping’an frowned. According to the books, “lovesick” referred to the awakening of youthful passion, a girl yearning for someone.

Ah Zhi had someone on her mind?

Did that mean she wanted to get married?

Then could she still work for Fu Ping’an?

Fu Ping’an’s thoughts instantly spiraled to this conclusion. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Ah Zhi, has something happened recently?”

“N-no, nothing, Your Majesty.”

“Is the workload too heavy?”

“Not at all. Your servant can handle it completely.”

“…Ah Zhi, if you got married, would you still be willing to serve as my palace attendant?”

Ah Zhi’s head whipped up, her face a mask of absolute shock.

[Cold-Faced Samoyed: What kind of thing is that to say, my silly daughter!]

[Meteor Fish: Why are you so direct?! You’re embarrassing her!]

Fu Ping’an hurriedly said, “I apologize, that was rude of me.”

Ah Zhi’s eyes, however, gradually grew calm, the flush fading from her face. She spoke evenly: “Your servant will not marry. Your servant already belongs to Your Majesty.”

[Chang’an Flower: …Sorry, my mind is in the gutter.]

Even Ah Zhi seemed to realize the ambiguity in her words and rushed to clarify: “Your servant means, she is willing to never marry and spend her life simply sharing Your Majesty’s burdens.”

Fu Ping’an, having missed the double meaning entirely, merely smiled and said, “Ah Zhi, as long as you continue to help me, you can still do what you wish. I don’t need you to abandon everything for me.”

Ah Zhi’s expression was stubborn: “But your servant is willing.”

Fu Ping’an said nothing further, simply instructing, “You may go now. After refining the wording, dispatch someone to deliver it to the Duke of Ying’s manor.”

“Yes. Your servant takes her leave.”

Ah Zhi withdrew from the grand hall, lifting her eyes to the sky. The brilliant autumn sun hung high; a gentle breeze came, dispersing the heat and her inner turmoil.

She shouldn’t be thinking about these things. She had tasks to accomplish.

Entering the eleventh month, the weather turned cold abruptly. In just a few days, the full sense of deep winter arrived. Every night, leaves fell from the trees in droves. The palace servants’ most troublesome task these days became sweeping these fallen leaves.

After Fu Ping’an placed a black Go stone as the danmaku instructed, Zhang Qixing began frowning in deep contemplation. Free for a moment, Fu Ping’an glanced out the window. Palace servants were loading fallen leaves into bamboo baskets. Above them stretched sparse branches; thin twigs swayed in the wind like hands reaching towards the sky.

She spoke: “Jiao— ah, no, Zhuojun. How has she been lately?”

Not long after that conversation, Bo Jiao’er was sent out of the palace. Fu Ping’an had originally wanted to find someone to adopt her, but Bo Jiao’er, now old enough to understand, had her own thoughts. She made two requests: first, she didn’t want any new set of parents. Second, she wished for Fu Ping’an to change her name—she didn’t want a name as delicate and pampered as “Jiao’er.”

Fu Ping’an still remembered the stubbornness on the girl’s face as she declared: “I never want to be Jiao’er again.”

And so Fu Ping’an gave her a new name—Zhuojun—and granted her the surname Shen. She settled her next door to Huo Pingsheng, arranging for the Huo siblings and Zhang Qixing to look after her. By now, over a month had passed.

Zhang Qixing snorted coldly. “That lass, sharp as a tack. Young Miss Huo follows her around like a servant now.”

After saying this, she scratched her head. “How does your brain work, anyway? Are you really an immortal? How can you have such a seasoned Go strategy after only a few days of study? But your playstyle—hmph, inelegant. You’ll stop at nothing to win.”

Fu Ping’an smiled. “Zhuojun is prickly. Elder Zhang, please educate her well.”

Zhang Qixing threw down her stone. “Am I your nanny, raising children for you? I only took payment for one, that Huo girl.”

“If Elder Zhang wishes to receive an official salary from me, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

Zhang Qixing harrumphed and began picking up the stones, falling silent.

Fu Ping’an watched her for a long moment, then sighed heavily. “Elder Zhang, are you truly unwilling to take the post of Grand Tutor?”

Zhang Qixing said, “I have no fame, no seniority, no family background. How could I serve as a Ducal Minister?”

Fu Ping’an looked at her calmly, saying nothing.

Over the past few months, she had naturally investigated Zhang Qixing. The woman was broadly learned and well-read—impossible for her to be a nobody. Yet every search of the archives and documents had failed to find that name. Then Chen Yan provided a sudden insight: “Could that name… be a fake name?”

A different line of inquiry was opened. Because Zhang Qixing had once let slip that she had taught the Prince Regent and Yan Yu, Fu Ping’an followed that thread. Gradually, clues began to emerge.

Perhaps sensing what was in Fu Ping’an’s gaze, Zhang Qixing lowered her head and sipped her tea, deliberately changing the subject. “Your Majesty’s tea-brewing method is exquisite. Fresh and refined, it embodies the principle of ‘great Dao is simplicity.'”

Fu Ping’an lowered her eyes, deciding in the end not to press the matter. Smiling, she said, “Aside from Elder Zhang, I truly cannot think of anyone else fit for the role.”

Zhang Qixing cast Fu Ping’an a deeply meaningful look. “I would have thought Your Majesty was deliberately stirring up this chaos.”

Ever since Fu Ping’an had hinted that anyone could become Grand Tutor, the court had fractured into several factions. One faction, naturally led by Fang Zicong, insisted on a mere figurehead. Another sought to promote its own candidates, a ceaseless stream of recommendations; the character profiles submitted were exhausting Fu Ping’an’s eyes. A third faction, attempting to guess Fu Ping’an’s thoughts, spoke high-sounding yet ultimately hollow words, with the core message being: whatever Your Majesty decides is correct.

Thus, for the past several months, everyone had been very busy.

Fu Ping’an kept a faint smile, but her tone revealed a hint of genuine vexation: “Not at all. I am truly puzzled. Does Elder Zhang have any good advice?”

Zhang Qixing’s hand trembled, spilling a few drops of tea on the table. She shook her head: “This old granny is simply too old; even my hands are unsteady. So some things I’ll just mention casually—Your Majesty, listen casually in return. In truth… there is someone Your Majesty might consider.”

Dipping her finger in the spilled tea, she wrote two characters on the table.

— Fan Yi.

The former Prime Minister, Fan Yi.

It was said that after resigning from office, he had been giving lectures in Weijing and was already surrounded by a garden of students.