Chapter 104: Selecting a Consort

“Under the watchful gaze of Heaven, Wei Ren is the foundation, continuing the legacy and cultivating virtue. The imperial heart regards him; what care does it bestow? It lies in the wings, bestowed upon descendants, granting abundant blessings...”

On this day, the main gates of Prince Duan’s mansion stood wide open as officials performed the grand “Music and Dance of the Great Shun.”

The imperial street before the mansion had been meticulously cleaned, spotless to the eye. The avenue was thronged with imperial guards, palace eunuchs, maids, members of the Music Bureau, the Grand Music Office, and various musicians and performers, all arrayed in their official attire.

Colorful banners fluttered in the breeze, stretching along the entire street. Amidst the waving flags, three magnificent dragon and phoenix carriages approached the gates of Prince Duan’s residence.

“Your servant Ji bows to Her Majesty, the Grand Dowager Consort, and greets His Highness, wishing the Empress and the Dowager Consort eternal blessings and the Emperor great peace,” announced an official.

Prince Duan, Zhao Ji, dressed in his court robes, had long been waiting at the gates with all the household staff. Upon sighting the dragon and phoenix carriages, Zhao Ji led everyone in a deep, kneeling bow.

Li Sanjian, in the crowd, raised his rear high and knelt low, prostrating himself in welcome to the Emperor of the Great Song, as well as the Empress Dowager and the Grand Dowager Consort.

Though the Song court’s usual custom was to salute with a clasped-hand gesture, such a solemn occasion called for full kneeling obeisance.

“Your Majesty is well, Eleventh Prince, please rise,” Emperor Zhao Xu descended from his carriage first, then turned to assist Empress Dowager Xiang from her phoenix carriage. The Grand Dowager Consort Zhu was helped down by palace maids.

Zhao Ji rose, hands folded within his sleeves, bowing deeply to welcome Zhao Xu, Xiang, and Zhu inside. Everyone behind him followed suit, including Li Sanjian, who bent like a shrimp, hands folded inside his broad sleeves—but slyly raised his middle finger within the sleeve, unnoticed by all.

Concealed within the crowd, Li Sanjian stealthily lifted his head to observe Emperor Zhao Xu for the second time. The first had been a distant glimpse, insufficient to discern a true likeness; now, he could clearly see the sovereign who had stripped him of his rank.

Zhao Xu appeared frail and delicate, almost as if the slightest breeze might break him. Yet his features were strikingly refined—typical of the Song imperial family, Li Sanjian mused. Since the emperor or consorts were chosen for their extraordinary beauty and charm, their offspring were hardly ever unattractive, barring rare abnormalities.

Raised in the palace’s sheltered confines, their beauty was often accompanied by fragile health. A lively prince like Zhao Ji was a rare exception.

Just as Li Sanjian was “joyfully” scrutinizing Zhao Xu, the emperor suddenly glanced up and fixed his gaze upon him. His eyes, sharp as a scanning device, swept over Li Sanjian from head to toe, forcing the latter to quickly lower his head.

Could it be that the emperor recognized him—the disgraced man who had fallen from favor?

Impossible, Li Sanjian thought, astonished. He knew his own insignificance well—just a nobody beneath notice. How could he have caught the emperor’s attention?

Zhao Xu then smiled faintly and, supporting Grand Dowager Consort Zhu, helped Empress Dowager Xiang into Prince Duan’s mansion.

Grand Dowager Zhu was Zhao Xu’s birth mother, while Empress Dowager Xiang was his legal mother. Hence, Zhao Xu only assisted Xiang, not Zhu. Such was the unbridgeable gulf between legitimate and secondary consorts.

Once inside the hall, arrays of seasonal fruits, pastries, and fine wines were brought forth in a steady stream. The servants retreated outside, leaving only Zhao Xu, Zhao Ji, Xiang, and Zhu amid the vast chamber, which felt somewhat empty. Palace attendants and eunuchs stood outside, ready to respond to any summons.

Li Sanjian remained near a wooden window, straining to catch any snippets of conversation from within. His curiosity about their discourse grew.

The Empress Dowager, Grand Dowager Consort, and Emperor sampled the delicacies sparingly.

After a moment, Empress Dowager Xiang smiled softly and said to Zhao Xu, “Your Majesty, the Eleventh Prince is of marriageable age. It is time to find him a match. What are your thoughts?”

Zhao Ji, the eleventh son of Emperor Shenzong, had lost both his father and mother by the age of two. Raised by Empress Dowager Xiang, who had no children of her own, he was treated as her own flesh and blood. Intelligent, handsome, and articulate, Zhao Ji had earned her deep affection, and their bond had only grown stronger over time.

Among Shenzong’s surviving sons, Zhao Ji was the only one without a birth mother alive.

Now over sixteen and having established his own household, it was fitting to arrange his marriage. Given Zhao Ji’s flirtatious nature, a proper match might tame his reckless ways and prevent scandal.

Zhao Xu smiled and replied, “I have no objection. The question is, what does the Eleventh Prince himself think?”

Thanks to the ministrations of ministers and imperial physicians, Zhao Xu felt somewhat better today and was in good spirits, having barely coughed at all. Yet he refrained from eating the cold dishes, mindful of his recent digestive troubles.

“I leave the decision to Her Majesty, the Grand Dowager Consort, and Your Majesty,” Zhao Ji said respectfully, bowing.

What could he object to? Royal marriages were never his to decide.

According to Song protocol, superiors and elders sat while subordinates and juniors stood when speaking. Even the emperor observed this, but due to his frail health, Zhao Xu was permitted to sit while conversing with his two mothers.

“If that is so, I shall make the decision today. I wonder if there is a suitable maiden worthy of our Eleventh Prince,” said Empress Dowager Xiang, nodding.

Her greatest satisfaction lay in Zhao Ji’s obedience—he never opposed her wishes.

“I have heard that Lady Wang, daughter of Governor Wang Zao of Dezhou, is modest, virtuous, and just over fourteen. She would be a fitting match for the Eleventh Prince. What do you think, Grand Dowager Consort?” Xiang asked Zhu.

As Zhao Ji’s legal mother, Xiang sought the opinion of Zhu, his birth mother, out of respect and political necessity.

Zhu considered and replied, “Lady Wang is the daughter of a minor official—not quite a match for the Eleventh Prince. The granddaughter of Grand Protector Ren of Zhongmu, gentle and virtuous, would be a better choice.”

Xiang’s heart darkened with resentment upon hearing this. Grand Protector Ren was Zhu’s foster father.

Zhu’s biological father, Cui Jie, was a commoner who died when she was young. Her mother remarried to Zhu Shian, hence her surname. Later, Zhu was entrusted to the care of the Ren family. Thus, she effectively had three fathers: Cui, Zhu, and Ren.

Zhu’s suggestion was transparent—she sought to place her own kin close to Prince Duan, a move fraught with political intent.

Empress Dowager Xiang cherished Zhao Ji as her own, and Lady Wang was a relative of hers. How could she consent to Zhu’s proposal?

“Grand Dowager Consort,” Xiang said calmly, “The ancestral laws must not be broken.”

In the Song dynasty, choosing consorts for the emperor or princes was a matter of great care—typically not from powerful noble families, to prevent undue influence or conspiracies. Brides were often from modest, reputable families, sometimes even humble origins, to ensure loyalty.

Zhu herself had been a palace maid from a common family before fate elevated her to consort status and mother of the emperor and his siblings.

The same principle applied to selecting sons-in-law: becoming a royal son-in-law meant lifelong wealth, but often at the cost of one’s official career.

“Your humble servant fears to disagree and will abide by Her Majesty’s words,” Zhu said, visibly shaken by the invocation of ancestral law.

Despite her son’s throne, Zhu remained cautious and deferential—the palace was a treacherous place, and even a favored consort had to tread lightly.

Empress Dowager Xiang was the true matriarch, the master of the harem and, by extension, the realm.

Outside the window, Li Sanjian curled his lips in disdain. A seemingly simple marriage for a prince had devolved into a bitter struggle for power. The palace was a perilous arena; one misstep could mean ruin beyond redemption.

“Why are you making that face?” whispered Gao Er beside him, noticing his strange expression.

“Uh... standing for so long is tiring, and I’m a bit hungry,” Li Sanjian muttered.

Gao Er shot him a sharp glance. No matter how tired or hungry, before Zhao Xu and the others left, Li Sanjian was expected to remain steadfast at his post.