The Jiugong Sanshi Hall, with its carved beams, painted rafters, and winding corridors, single-eaved curved roofs rising to moon terraces, was even more exquisite than Qianqing Palace.
Surrounded by half a lake and backed by mountains and waters, it almost made one dream of the prosperous scenes of Jiangnan.
Ordinary officials who came here for court sessions, after long journeys under starry skies, could soothe much of their fatigue simply by strolling along the galleries.
Once inside the hall, when the sixteen red window panels opened, a gentle breeze would stir, refreshing one’s spirit… except for today.
The atmosphere inside the main hall was so tense it felt as though a fight could break out at any moment.
“Your Majesty, with all due respect, the triennial selection of maidens each time consumes a huge amount of resources. Young women come from all over the country, traveling long distances through mountains and rivers, and there are frequent reports of deaths en route. This greatly harms their families and the continuation of their lineages. Therefore, I suggest reforming the system.”
“Nonsense! The arrival of maidens to the capital symbolizes the court’s control over the Manchu, Mongol, and Han banners, showcasing the imperial majesty. If the system changes, it won’t be long before those banner households forget who their true masters are!”
“I beg to differ. With the Grand Empress Dowager’s memorial birthday approaching, reforming the system will not only save the state’s silver to benefit the people, but also spare these maidens the hardship of travel. It would be a great merit and a fitting tribute for the Grand Empress Dowager’s commemoration.”
“If the Grand Empress Dowager knew how you scheming people are undermining the royal rules, she would curse you for forgetting your ancestors even in the heavens!”
Kangxi let the quarrel below simmer for a while before asking calmly, “If you insist on reform, do you have a plan?”
Several old-fashioned princes, stirred up by Suo’etu, argued heatedly until their faces turned red and their throats hoarse.
Upon hearing Kangxi’s question, they couldn’t help but burst into tears, falling to their knees.
“Your Majesty, please reconsider! The selection system is a rule established by our ancestors. To change it is to shake the very foundation of the Qing!”
“Yes, Your Majesty, please do not listen to these petty people’s nonsense. If our ancestors in the underworld knew, how could they rest in peace, Your Majesty!”
Kangxi was not surprised that these self-important princes would rise to oppose.
During regular selection periods, maidens who wanted to enter the palace or seek exemption would first visit the families of the princes to seek favors and connections.
Every three years, the court spent large sums maintaining the appearance of the selection, which previous Ministers of Revenue had lamented over.
It only served to fatten these princes’ pockets.
To reform the system was to cut into their profits.
Kangxi cast a cold glance at Suo’etu, and his interests too.
He saw no need to explain himself, simply asking, “Did the ancestors say that, as the Emperor, I must always heed your words?”
The old princes hurriedly expressed their fear, repeating tired phrases with tears streaming down.
Kangxi was uninterested, “If you are too afraid, then be silent. Whether the banner households outside the capital forget who their master is is another matter. You old men, weak in body, seem to have forgotten respect and hierarchy.”
“Send several princes and beiles back to their residences. Have the imperial physicians care for them well. They have worked hard attending court; there’s no need for them to travel so much from now on.”
The imperial guards immediately entered, dragging out the protesting princes.
The hall fell silent.
Suo’etu kept his eyes on his own nose, pretending not to notice the princes being hauled away.
Though arrogant and proud, he was no fool.
Because of that bet, for the Emperor’s dignity, reforming the selection was inevitable.
Both he and the Crown Prince were prepared for it.
However, if Noble Consort Zhaoyuan were allowed to change such a major matter so easily, it would only be a matter of time before she meddled in court affairs or paved the way for her son.
They absolutely could not let Noble Consort Zhaoyuan succeed so easily.
Whether the princes’ opposition mattered was less important than how much it stirred resentment among those with vested interests.
If the reform was made more difficult, even if the selection encountered more obstacles later, it would only deepen dissatisfaction.
Then, the infamous reputation of Noble Consort Zhaoyuan’s arrogance and lawlessness would spread.
Even if the Fifteenth Prince tried to seize the Crown Prince’s position, the princes would not support her faction.
While Suo’etu was calculating these matters, Minister of Rites Xiong Cilu and Mingzhu, along with Minister of Revenue Fucha Maqi and Zhang Yushu, all stepped forward with memorials proposing reform.
Xiong Cilu spoke first: “Your Majesty, if the selection must be reformed, it should be held on fixed dates with clear examination regulations, just like the imperial examinations. The Imperial Household Department and Ministry of Rites should jointly appoint officials to oversee the selection.”
He referenced the provincial exam regulations, realizing the selection bore many similarities to the imperial exams, only moved entirely into the capital and palace.
“Moreover, in the past, the selection only eliminated those who were disabled, weak, or from unsuitable families. Physical and skill examinations took place after entry, which was costly and time-consuming.”
“I suggest that each local prefecture set up a Six Arts examination for women as a preliminary screening annually, with a triannual summary. Those who qualify proceed to a second round, which would save much effort.”
Minister of Revenue Zhang Yushu’s eyes lit up.
He added, “The secondary selection could be held in the local prefectures, where court-appointed maids and female officials would conduct physical and skill checks. Those who pass the secondary selection would then come to the capital for final selection. This would greatly reduce expenses for both the Imperial Household Department and Ministry of Rites.”
Every selection required a huge sum just to accommodate the maidens.
After passing the preliminary round, they entered the palace, where so many were fed and cared for, burning silver daily—a thought that pained Zhang Yushu.
Passing the secondary selection would reduce numbers by more than half, saving the Ministry of Revenue from pleading poverty before the Emperor so often.
Mingzhu smiled, “As for those who pass the preliminaries and second rounds, including those excused for illness or physical weakness, the court could issue edicts allowing them to marry officially, which would also help the Zongrenfu maintain records better.”
Fuqian showed some interest.
As the Minister of the Zongrenfu, he found this plan practical since annual archive checks caused him headaches.
Maqi also said, “I believe the final selection in the capital could be split into outside and inside palace parts. A venue outside the palace could verify the identities and compare the maidens’ skills, ranking them into three classes.”
“Those who fail to enter the top three could be immediately granted marriage matches. The top three would then enter the palace to pay respects to the Emperor and Empress Dowager, who would grant their marriages, thereby highlighting the imperial grace!”
The main point was that an external venue would avoid the grand spectacle inside the palace, saving a considerable amount of money.
Reducing the number entering the palace wouldn’t affect the maidens’ marriages and would save silver.
In terms of calculations, Maqi was even more meticulous than Zhang Yushu.
The four ministers’ words silenced everyone in the hall.
Even Eldest Prince Yinzhi, usually persuaded by Mingzhu, and the Crown Prince Yinreng, strongly opposed to reform, were at a loss for words.
Hanlin Academy scholar Li Guangdi and Left Censor Chen Tingjing sat with mouths agape, faces darkening.
Mingzhu and the others had essentially adapted the imperial examination system, changed the name, and presented it to court.
Why didn’t they propose setting up selection academies across the provinces?
Why not establish county and prefecture schools as well?
Why didn’t Maqi and Zhang Yushu suggest granting stipends after the second selection?
Otherwise, how unfair to the maidens?
Oh, and when the top three passed the final selection, shouldn’t there be a female champion parade to let the mothers-in-law eye their future daughters-in-law, to see which one deserves the family heirloom?
Some officials bit their lips or clenched their tongues to suppress laughter, others inwardly cursed the ministers’ ancestors, while some doubted if they were still dreaming.
Regardless of expression, none could deny the absurdity.
Yet no one spoke, allowing the four ministers to finish their presentation.
Not because they had nothing to say, but because all eyes were on Kangxi, who nodded repeatedly at the opening remarks.
Their sovereign was the most frugal master of all!
His salary hadn’t increased in over a decade, and he had sent Cao Yin to Jiangnan—everyone knew Cao Ziqing was there to amass silver under imperial orders.
Moreover, the Emperor had already agreed to the bet at the Mid-Autumn Palace banquet.
The selection system sounding more like the imperial exams made the bet easier to honor and preserved the Emperor’s face.
If asked, the Emperor was simply merciful and considerate of the hardships of the Manchu, Mongol, and Han banner families.
This was a tremendous grace; one must bow and praise with eyes closed.
Otherwise, how could they truly select talented women to fill the examination halls?
Of course, Mingzhu and the others had some rough edges in their proposals that needed refining before Kangxi would decree them.
Kangxi said, “Let the Ministry of Rites take the lead, instructing the Ministry of Revenue and Provincial Administration Office to discuss, then submit a draft edict to the Nanshufang.”
A brief silence filled the hall before the officials knelt, proclaiming in unison, “Long live the Emperor!”
However, this time their voices lacked their usual grandeur, some even shouting with eyes closed.
As long as they didn’t topple the imperial examination system… opening a window here or there was acceptable, after all it concerned only marriage and funeral matters.
***
Meanwhile, Fang He had just arrived at Ruijing Pavilion.
Today was the twentieth, the day for paying respects.
She first handed Er Bao to Chunlai to watch over, so he could continue sleeping soundly with his still-sleeping sisters in the side hall.
For some unknown reason, Jiujiu had played with Seventh Princess Uxiha, whom Consort Jing was raising, and had stayed the night with her at Ruijing Pavilion.
This was not the first time.
Although Uxiha was born to Uya-shi, she had no awkwardness toward Fang He as Fifth Princess Galu Dai did; in fact, she often visited Yanxi Palace and Jiayin Hall.
Fang He had no particular feelings toward the children, treating them as relatives’ kids.
Uxiha, since over a year old, had been raised by the seemingly gentle but innately cold and stubborn Consort Jing.
Her temperament was similar: gentle yet fond of testing new things at just six years old.
Coincidentally, Jiujiu, lively at three years old, and Uxiha shared interests and often played together in the Empress Dowager’s palace.
The Empress Dowager had always indulged the children.
Whether they caused trouble or climbed trees and swam, she protected them and never stopped them.
As she said, “When we were children on the grasslands, we ran wild. Each one of us grew strong, unlike these palace children, delicate but weak.”
She also said, “Maybe in the future… being lively isn’t a bad thing.”
This was about the princesses’ upbringing; the Empress Dowager didn’t make it explicit.
She understood that with Fang He’s current favor, Jiujiu probably wouldn’t marry into Beimeng, but other princesses might.
So the Empress Dowager was willing to indulge the princesses to let them enjoy a happier childhood.
Fang He certainly wouldn’t stop this.
She still had no say in the princesses’ marriages and secretly hoped they wouldn’t suffer the tragedies of history.
After all, what if Jiujiu wanted to marry to the grasslands someday?
But one step at a time; her main focus was to settle the selection system reform first before tackling other matters.
Today, the attendees were complete.
Even Noble Consort Wenxi and Consort Hui, who had often been ill these years, had come.
Within the palace, whether lord or servant, everyone excelled at painting a peaceful facade.
No matter how much hatred brewed in private, they wore indifferent expressions upon meeting.
After the Empress Dowager arrived and formalities were exchanged, they didn’t rush away but lingered chatting at Ruijing Pavilion.
Everyone knew today’s court would discuss the bet made at the Mid-Autumn Palace banquet.
News would reach Ruijing Pavilion faster than their own chambers.
Kangxi didn’t keep them waiting long.
Soon he arrived with the Crown Prince and Eldest Prince to pay respects to the Empress Dowager.
The Empress Dowager teased Kangxi with a smile, “I was just saying these past days that I regretted leaving early at the banquet, otherwise I could have enjoyed the fun. You’re getting on in years, yet still behave like a child.”
“Several days have passed, how do you say that now?”
Though she didn’t say much, only feigning attention to her eldest son, the Empress Dowager naturally wished the women to live freer lives.
For example, how many Mongol noblewomen at the selection genuinely wanted to come to the capital?
If the system could be reformed, these wildflowers from the steppes might not wither so easily in the capital.
“The court quarrels just gave me a headache,” Kangxi smiled in surrender.
“Mother, don’t mock your son. When I awoke a few days ago, learning I had agreed to such a monumental matter, I nearly went to the ancestral hall to beg forgiveness.”
He glanced at Fang He with a teasing smile, “Don’t look at her so quietly now—she’s infuriating, even less obedient than Fuer Guochun. I only privately scolded her a little, yet it made her feel wronged.”
“Mother, please don’t always spoil her. Otherwise, I’ll never dare provoke the Noble Consort again.”
The consorts in the hall lowered their eyes numbly.
Consort Yi and Concubine Jing felt sour.
If not for the Emperor’s own will, would Noble Consort Zhaoyuan dare to act so recklessly?
The Empress Dowager laughed, casting Fang He a half-mocking glance.
“You three together are nearly seventy years old. Aren’t you afraid the children will laugh at you? From now on, no more causing trouble.”
Fang He grinned broadly and nodded seriously.
“Your Majesty’s humble servant obeys the Empress Dowager’s command. When the Emperor orders me east, I will not go west, and I’ll behave better than Jiujiu and Yinhui.”
Empress Dowager: “….”
‘Can’t you pick someone older to compare with?’
Fang He hesitated, looking at the Elder Prince and the Crown Prince beside Kangxi.
After a pause, she nodded emphatically.
“I guarantee I’m more obedient than the Ninth and Tenth Princes!”
Crown Prince and Eldest Prince: “…”
Are they that old?
Consort Yi and Noble Consort Wenxi: “….”
‘Does the Emperor not mind all this noise at all?’