Qingyang actually liked playing very much.
But her Imperial Concubine mother would only take her to stroll around the Imperial Garden, and there was nothing new or exciting to do there.
Her three royal brothers spent almost the entire day in the Chongwen Pavilion or the Martial Practice Hall, leaving them with no time for her.
The Eldest Sister, who didn’t need to study, had been busy lately preparing for her wedding, and even if she weren’t busy, the Eldest Sister didn’t enjoy playing with her.
In the end, the only one Qingyang could turn to was her Father Emperor, who had just returned to the Capital.
But Father Emperor was also a very busy person.
It was said that he rose before dawn every morning, holding court meetings, reading the classics and histories, reviewing memorials, meeting with ministers, and often had important matters to attend to even in the afternoons.
None of these allowed him to stay by her side for long.
As Father Emperor gradually began to show impatience with coaxing her for extended periods, Qingyang decided to add another Arithmetic lesson for herself and asked Tutor Guo to teach her.
Tutor Guo, who had only ever heard young nobles complain about how dull and boring studying was, was thoroughly astonished and asked, “Your Highness, why do you want to learn Arithmetic?”
Qingyang replied, “Third Brother Zhang Su and the others are learning it, so I want to learn it too.”
She also wanted to learn archery and horseback riding, but when Qingyang tried to pull Third Brother’s bow, she couldn’t even draw it.
Clearly, Third Brother hadn’t been trying to fool her—she really wasn’t old enough to learn those things yet.
Tutor Guo went to ask the Emperor for his opinion.
Emperor Xingwu loved his little princess very much, but his mind was already exhausted from handling state affairs and he truly couldn’t handle all the wild and fanciful questions his daughter came up with.
He purposely sent his daughter off to play elsewhere, actually to avoid harming their father-daughter relationship. Otherwise, if she kept asking endlessly, Emperor Xingwu was afraid that one day he would lose control of his temper and scold her harshly.
It was rare for his daughter to find something to do on her own, especially something as proper as studying. Emperor Xingwu smiled and said, “Teach her whatever she wants to learn, but make sure to arrange the time well—don’t tire out my Lin’er.”
Diligence in learning was good, but forcing the seedlings to grow by pulling them up was not.
Tutor Guo respectfully took his leave, and upon returning, rearranged the little princess’s schedule to include two lessons.
Every day, starting at the hour of Si, she would first study The Thousand Character Classic for half an hour.
After finishing, she would rest for a quarter of an hour, and then continue with three quarters of an hour of simple Arithmetic.
Qingyang said, “Third Brother and the others have homework at night. Sir, please assign me more homework too.”
Tutor Guo stroked his beard and smiled.
From then on, he assigned the little princess the task of reciting what she had learned from The Thousand Character Classic and added ten extra Arithmetic questions as homework each day.
And so, Qingyang would study in the Chongwen Pavilion in the mornings.
At noon, she would sometimes have lunch with her Imperial Concubine mother, sometimes with her Father Emperor.
In the afternoons, she would take a nap for more than an hour in her mother’s palace. Upon waking, she would watch her mother secretly practicing dance.
After playing for a while, Third Brother would finish his studies.
After dinner, he would lead her back to Chanyuan Palace.
In the evening, she would do homework with Third Brother Zhang Su for a while, and before bed, she would listen to Jie Yu tell her stories.
Tonight, Jie Yu wanted to tell the story of Nüwa patching up the heavens again.
Qingyang only listened to the beginning before shaking her head.
Looking at Jie Yu sitting by her bed, she said, “I don’t want to hear this one.”
Jie Yu smiled gently.
“Then what would Your Highness like to hear?”
Qingyang thought for a moment and asked, “Why did the State of Qin perish?”
Jie Yu hesitated.
“…Did Your Highness hear about this from His Majesty?”
Qingyang nodded, pouting.
“Scholar Liu was telling Father Emperor stories, and when he got to the State of Qin, I asked Father Emperor where the State of Qin was. Father Emperor said it was a former kingdom, and it’s long gone. I wanted to ask more, but Father Emperor covered my mouth and told me not to disturb Scholar Liu.”
Jie Yu and the wet nurse were the two who accompanied the little princess the most in this palace, and naturally knew of her curious nature.
Jie Yu smiled and said, “That story is too long. How about this: I’ll first tell Your Highness about kingdoms even older than the State of Qin, the earliest emperors, and then, dynasty by dynasty, tell how each was established and how each fell. Would you like that?”
Qingyang happily agreed.
Jie Yu held a round fan, gently fanning the little princess while telling her about the first of the Five Emperors, the Yellow Emperor.
Telling it word-for-word from the Records of the Grand Historian would be too complicated, so Jie Yu simplified the story and made it interesting, asking and answering questions as she went.
After nearly half an hour, the little princess finally fell asleep.
Looking at the little princess’s face, which looked even more obedient and adorable in sleep, Jie Yu thought that he needed to get a new set of books.
He’d neglected it for too long and had forgotten some of the details.
***
Yongkang learned that her three-year-old little sister was actually beginning her education properly in the Chongwen Pavilion.
Her first thought was that when she herself entered the palace at fourteen, Father Emperor had never thought of letting her study with her brothers in the Chongwen Pavilion.
Yongkang had never been very interested in studying.
Since she was young, she’d had too many worries—worried that Father Emperor would favor the second brother born to the Noble Lady and no longer care for her and her brother, worried when Grandmother favored her and her brother—though she was happy, she also felt secretly sad that Grandmother preferred her brother even more.
After Grandmother passed away, Yongkang became even more cautious, guarding against the Noble Lady’s side harming her and her brother.
Later, she worried about whether Father Emperor could capture the Capital, and her anxiety for her family’s safety lasted right up until she entered the palace.
Under such circumstances, how could Yongkang ever muster any enthusiasm for studying?
Three years ago, she finally entered the palace and became an incomparably honored princess, living a stable life.
Gradually, some noble girls from prominent families began to appear around her.
Yongkang paid close attention to their dignified manners, the ease with which they displayed their talents in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, and meanwhile, she grew deeply self-conscious about her own shortcomings.
She had a nanny teaching her etiquette, so Yongkang took the initiative to ask the Noble Lady to let her learn the zither. When she couldn’t master it, she tried other things, until she found that the flute suited her best.
Compared to the classics and histories that she would never use, Yongkang cared more about the talents she could display—music, chess, and etiquette—and about her monthly allowance as a princess, as well as the extra jewels and silks given by Father Emperor and the Noble Lady.
She cared about her brother’s academic achievements and whether he would be named Crown Prince.
Yongkang also cared about whether Father Emperor truly doted on her.
Qingyang was still young, so Yongkang didn’t feel jealous of Father Emperor hugging or playing with her sister. But having Father Emperor let her little sister study in the Chongwen Pavilion was, in effect, granting her an honor Yongkang herself had never received.
Yongkang took her Palace Maid and went to the Chongwen Pavilion.
The guards at the gate saw the eldest princess’s wind-blown figure and dignified gaze, and, seeing that she looked ready to explode if anyone dared block her, the two guards wisely just saluted and stepped aside.
After all, even the little princess was studying inside, showing just how much the Emperor indulged his princesses—why should they stop her?
Yongkang’s expression softened slightly.
Once inside, she asked a cleaning eunuch where her sister was studying, and then went over alone.
She signaled to Jie Yu, who was waiting outside, not to be too formal, and stood by the window at the back of the classroom.
She saw her little sister sitting with her head lowered beside an old gentleman, stretching out her fair little fingers to play with a few black and white chess pieces on the table, muttering, “One, two, three, three white stones… three black stones, together that’s…”
The little one was earnestly putting the two colors of stones together and carefully counting from one to six.
Yongkang came back to herself and realized she was actually smiling.
Her expression changed slightly, and Yongkang left.
Really, what was she doing comparing herself to a three-year-old sister?
It was clearly Father Emperor who hadn’t valued her studies back then!
Yongkang went straight to Qianyuan Hall.
It was the first time the eldest daughter had come at this hour, so Emperor Xingwu set aside the memorials he hadn’t finished reviewing and had He Yuanjing bring his daughter in.
As soon as Yongkang entered, she saw her Father Emperor, resplendent in his Dragon Robe.
Of the five imperial sons and daughters, the younger they were, the greater Emperor Xingwu’s power was when they could first remember.
When Crown Prince Qin Hong began to remember things, Emperor Xingwu had already declared himself king, and carried himself with the authority befitting a monarch.
In other words, only Yongkang had seen her Father Emperor eat and dress roughly, even speaking and acting with roughness, more than anyone else, and those memories were the deepest.
Because of this, although Yongkang respected her Father Emperor, she was never as formal as her brothers.
Father and daughter met eyes. Yongkang pressed her lips together, her displeasure showing, and quietly complained, “Father Emperor, why let my little sister study in the Chongwen Pavilion?”
Emperor Xingwu smiled.
“If I hadn’t arranged for her to study, she’d keep pestering me. And since she’s able to listen and learn, I sent her to the Chongwen Pavilion.”
Yongkang said, “It’s not like one must study in the Chongwen Pavilion. When I entered the palace, Father Emperor had me study in my own palace.”
Emperor Xingwu understood his eldest daughter’s meaning, but he couldn’t just let his daughter lead him by the nose.
Rather than offering all sorts of explanations that would sound like sophistry, it was better simply to satisfy her grievance.
He sized up his daughter and teased, “I only arranged it that way because you didn’t seem interested in studying back then. So, you actually wanted to go to the Chongwen Pavilion, did you? That’s easy enough—Father Emperor will immediately order that a classroom be opened just for you in the Chongwen Pavilion, and you may study whatever you wish.”
Yongkang, who had long suffered the hardships of listening to lectures and doing homework, said, “…I didn’t study three years ago, and now I’m about to be married—what’s the point of studying now.”
Emperor Xingwu still looked lovingly at her.
“Learning is boundless. As long as you wish to learn, the tutors can teach you.”
Yongkang lowered her head.
Emperor Xingwu asked, “How is your flute practice going? Since you’re here, play a tune for me?”
Yongkang blushed.
Emperor Xingwu told He Yuanjing to go look for a flute in his Private Treasury.
Soon, He Yuanjing returned, holding a Jewel Inlaid Case.
Even the case alone was so precious that one could imagine how fine the flute inside must be.
Emperor Xingwu had inherited the previous dynasty’s royal Private Treasury and had only glanced through it briefly, never examining it closely.
Now, even he was curious, and father and daughter stood side by side to watch He Yuanjing open the case.
Inside was a more-than-two-foot-long, seven-holed Purple Jade Flute.
Yongkang forgot to breathe.
He Yuanjing smiled and said, “It’s said that Han Wudi once had a dearly treasured Purple Jade Flute. I wonder if this is the one.”
Emperor Xingwu sighed, “Even if it isn’t, such rarity is precious in itself. This is the first time I’ve ever seen such a large piece of purple jade.”
As he spoke, he casually took out the flute and turned to hand it to his eldest daughter.
“Here, give it a try.”
Yongkang stepped back two paces, nervous.
“I dare not—I’m afraid I’ll break it.”
Emperor Xingwu said, “If you break it, we’ll look for another. No matter how fine a thing is, it’s meant to be used. If you just keep it put away, it’ll only benefit future generations.”
Yongkang still refused to accept it.
Emperor Xingwu, helpless, said, “Very well, it’s yours anyway. Take it back—play it if you like, keep it if you wish. Father Emperor still has a pile of memorials to deal with, so I can’t keep you company.”
Yongkang, excitedly hugging this precious gift, left Qianyuan Hall. As for where her little sister was studying, it had long since slipped her mind.
In the Imperial Library, Emperor Xingwu stared at the memorials for a while in a daze.
He thought of his late Consort, a thrifty, gentle woman without a single fault—she hadn’t minded his poverty, nor that he traveled constantly, and she cared for his mother alone without complaint.
If he gave her ten taels of silver, she never coveted more.
When he returned home injured, bringing danger to the whole family, she never uttered a word of complaint, and even risked her life to save her mother-in-law in times of peril.
To have such a wife was Emperor Xingwu’s good fortune, but if his daughter grew up with that kind of nature, the one who would suffer hardship would only be her.
Fortunately, his Yongkang had no intention of following her mother’s example.
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