The thirty-fifth year of Kangxi, spring.
The New Year had just passed, and the festive spirit still lingered throughout the palace, yet the court was once again stirred up by the matter of the selection of Palace Ladies.
“Reporting to the Emperor, Xiong Cilu, Minister of Rites and a head of the Six Ministries, privately stamped the revised regulations for the selection of Palace Ladies without explicit imperial decree, and even mobilized large numbers of officials from the Tidu Yamen and Shuntian Prefecture for this purpose. Such deceitful conduct is truly a dereliction of duty!”
“I second this! Lord Xiong, as Minister of Rites, should be most familiar with the laws of Great Qing, but he flaunted the law and committed an even graver offense. We implore Your Majesty to investigate thoroughly and punish his dereliction!”
After months of impeachment and censure by the Yushi, Xiong Cilu had gone from anxious and regretful to entirely composed.
He stood with lowered eyes and hands in his sleeves on the floor of the Golden Throne Hall, not even blinking.
Who would have thought that that ‘little’ favor for the Imperial Noble Consort would turn out to be so dangerous!
By the time the silver had arrived at the Ministry of Rites, and he saw millions of taels stacked before him, he had already boarded a pirate ship and couldn’t get off—even if he wanted to, he didn’t wish to anymore.
Oh, but there were some who did foresee this.
Kangxi knew that Fang He asking Xiong Cilu for such a “little favor” was certain to shake the heavens.
But he also knew that this clever rascal would never do anything detrimental to Great Qing.
As for his own wife, he couldn’t restrain her, nor could he bear to punish or scold her.
Besides, it’s doubtful he could ever be more sharp-tongued than her.
So, what was he to do?
On the surface… it truly wasn’t much—a matter of asking Xiong Cilu to stamp the official seal of the Ministry of Rites on a set of regulations she and the Princess of Chengyuan had already agreed upon, and for the ministry to coordinate all aspects of the Selected Lady.
This was, after all, part of the ministry’s duties.
Those merchants, bearing silver and crying out to support the selection, delivered their silver to the Ministry of Rites.
From there, the Imperial Household Department supervised, ensuring the money was properly spent on every aspect of the Selected Lady.
The leftover funds were all donated to the Ministry of Revenue as compensation for the bereaved families of soldiers who had died in the northern Mongol wars.
The Ministry of Revenue hadn’t cared at first, but after returning from the northern Mongol campaign with Kangxi, the two ministers—Ma Qi and Zhang Yushu, Manchu and Han alike—learned how much silver there was.
When they saw the empty treasury, they scolded Xiong Cilu even more harshly than the Yushi had.
If only they’d held onto it!
If they were the ones spending the silver, there would’ve been even more left over!
They could have done the Imperial Noble Consort’s ‘little favor’ even better than Xiong Cilu!
But, truth be told, didn’t the officials know this was all the doing of Yuan Zhen, the Imperial Noble Consort?
They weren’t fools.
But Yuan Zhen, the Imperial Noble Consort, was as untouchable as a monk with a Golden Bell Shield, leaving others with nowhere to strike.
Her reputation among the common people now, without exaggeration, nearly rivaled Kangxi’s.
Because of the compensation fund, even the generals and soldiers held this Imperial Noble Consort—whose power rivaled the Empress—in the highest esteem.
Even Han womenfolk saw new possibilities.
Because today’s Women’s Academy did not limit attendance to Bannermen noblewomen.
As long as one passed the exam, anyone could enroll but there was one rule: no footbinding, and no marrying before sixteen.
Women trapped in the inner quarters for life—were they truly willing to never step outside as girls, and then, after marriage, to toil over their husband’s many wives and concubines, always fearing abandonment in old age?
Once they discovered this chance to change their fate, those women—always overlooked or underestimated by men, especially those Han ladies shackled by Neo-Confucian orthodoxy—exploded with potential.
Publicly, this was one of the few opportunities for Han people to climb higher.
If they won favor in the Academy or, even better, with the Imperial Noble Consort herself, their entire family would benefit.
Privately, not a single woman liked footbinding.
To force their daughters to bind their feet or forbid them from attending the Academy……..
Well, peace in the household would be lost.
Thus, as soon as the selection was over, all the women with access to news in the capital and even throughout the empire—Manchu or Han—regarded Yuan Zhen, the Imperial Noble Consort, as a goddess descended from the heavens, erecting longevity shrines and tablets for her.
Some Bannermen families even placed longevity tablets for her at home.
Noblewomen from the Eight Banners, and even their families, all saw this new path upward through the reform.
Even those with unimpressive backgrounds—so long as they had talent and courage—could seize both marriage and honor.
This time, a County Magistrate from Yizhen County in Jiangnan, of the Su Jia family from the Han Army Banner, had a daughter named Miao Qing.
Because Fang He had heard Liang Madam mention her, she specifically ordered her to be observed.
The Selected Lady Su Jia Miao Qing, by her own skill, made it into the final palace selection.
With Kangxi away from the palace, the final selection was naturally presided over by the Empress Dowager and Fang He, with other consorts assisting—especially Consort Yi, Concubine Cheng, and Consort Hui.
Because the Fifth Prince, Seventh Prince, and Eighth Prince were all of age, this selection was also for choosing their Fuqin(wife).
Afterward, Su Jia Miao Qing, with her exquisite talent in painting and calligraphy, won the favor of the Seventh Prince.
Concubine Cheng personally asked Fang He to place her as a candidate for the Seventh Prince’s main wife.
Oh, and as for the Fourth Prince, his Fuqin was to be decided by Fang He and the Princess of Chengyuan.
The Princess of Chengyuan, upon entering the palace, had asked the Fourth Prince’s opinion.
He was indifferent, saying only to let the Imperial Noble Consort and the Princess of Chengyuan decide.
Between them, Fang He and the Princess of Chengyuan both considered, one recalling the tangled mess of the Fourth Prince’s inner court in storybooks, the other the awkward history of Yongzheng choosing the “best of the short ones.”
In the end, they did not select the just-thirteen-year-old Ula Nara girl as a candidate.
For the selection, Fang He and the Princess of Chengyuan refined every detail.
The royal marriages had their own process: both the imperial prince and the Selected Ladies had the right to choose.
All Selected Ladies chosen for marriage must serve three years as female officials in the palace.
Only if both parties have no objections at the end would a marriage be granted.
Fang He did not wish to meddle in his affairs so the court lady, based on storybooks and personal experience, selected a suitable candidate from Manchu, Mongol, and Han Bannermen noblewomen for him, and let him interact as he pleased.
It was the same for the Fifth Prince.
From the consorts above to the commoners below who used the news for gossip, everyone agreed that Yuan Zhen, the Imperial Noble Consort, though not the Empress, surpassed her.
The officials did not even need to speak: if they dared impeach Yuan Zhen, their own households might soon be in chaos.
So, for now, everyone hurled all their criticism at Xiong Cilu, their true hope being for the Emperor to show his attitude.
“We won’t say more for now; a gesture is enough.”
“But next time—next time, could Your Majesty please rein in that ancestor in the palace causing such trouble!!”
“If this continues, women will soon rule the heavens—will there be any place left for us men?”
Kangxi listened in silence to the officials’ passionate speeches.
When the eldest Yushi, trembling, glanced at the pillar, Kangxi finally pressed his temples and spoke up, “I have already learned of this in advance. The selection is an important matter, and I feared that a delay in passing my decree would slow progress. To avoid making the royal family a laughingstock, I had someone deliver an urgent verbal order to Xiong Cilu, allowing him to act with discretion and not be bound by rigid rules.”
The officials fell silent, ‘For Yuan Zhen, the Imperial Noble Consort, you’re even discarding the rules and rites. What do you want at this point? Clearly, not your reputation.’
Kangxi did not expect the officials to accept his explanation.
He simply said, “Though this was irregular, the result is good. Now, whether in Jiangnan or the northwest, the people are ever more loyal, and even the scholars of Jiangnan are inspired to serve the court.”
The court fell further silent.
Did the scholars truly want to serve?
No, they were infuriated because all the outstanding Selected Ladies were being paraded around town like top scholars after the imperial exam, thanks to Yuan Zhen’s efforts—oh, my Lord!
Not to mention, those who received the Lian Hua Ling are now the favorites of the common people.
Yet, unlike the admiration for courtesans, this adoration was tinged with reverence and fervor.
On closer inspection, it resembled the treatment scholars received among the common people.
It wasn’t just the Jiangnan scholars—students everywhere felt resentful as women were now outshining even them, spreading biting satirical poems like snowflakes throughout society.
But Yuan Zhen, the Imperial Noble Consort, acted as if she feared no one would call her a femme fatale.
Instead, she grew even bolder.
She led the Princess of Chengyuan, and through the Ministry of Rites, established the Qing Gazette to publish those satirical poems.
But it wasn’t just the women who could be criticized; when it came to literary skill, few could match the court lady.
The Princess of Chengyuan led the final Selected Ladies in publishing counter-poems—logical, clear, well-argued, and remarkably elegant in their retorts.
Some even anonymously submitted romantic tales that both openly and subtly mocked the fickleness of scholars and the devotion of women… and, to be honest, they were quite entertaining.
A few officials remembered this and couldn’t help fidgeting.
The Qing Gazette was surely delivered to their homes today; who knows which scholar would be singled out for ridicule this time?
They just wanted to hurry home to read it…
Ahem, back on topic.
They quickly pulled their thoughts back.
Since the Qing Gazette was sponsored by the Ministry of Rites but edited by the Princess of Chengyuan, even scholars needed her approval to have their poems published.