togophonebook Chapter 275 Daily Life in the Harem
Chapter 275 Daily Life in the Harem
The 23rd day of the tenth month of the first year of the Qiming era. The Beginning of Winter.
The first snowfall in Chang'an fell in the deepest darkness before dawn. Fine snowflakes tapped against the windowpanes, rustling incessantly like silkworms munching on mulberry leaves. As the sky began to lighten, the many halls of Taiji Palace were draped in white, the vermilion steps and railings covered with a thin layer of white, the varying shades of white making them appear even more serene and solemn.
Lizheng Hall, the Empress's bedroom.
Murong Mingyue woke up earlier than usual. She put on her robe and got up, without calling for the palace servants, and walked to the window alone, pushing open half of it. The crisp, cold air rushed in, carrying fine snowflakes, and brushed against her still sleepy face.
In the courtyard outside the window, the crabapple tree she had transplanted herself had lost its last leaf, its bare branches bearing snow, its posture stubborn and quiet.
"Your Highness, be careful not to catch a cold." The personal maidservant held up a fox-fur cloak and gently draped it over her shoulders.
Murong Mingyue pulled her cloak tighter, leaving the window open. She gazed at the crabapple tree and murmured, "I remember, this tree was moved here from the old residence in Beidu by His Majesty when Qi'er was a month old. Back then, it wasn't even as tall as a person, but now…"
She didn't finish speaking. The female official stood silently with her head bowed, not daring to respond.
Since entering the Lizheng Palace, the Empress has spoken far less than she did in the Northern Capital. It wasn't indifference, nor melancholy, but rather a kind of calming—as if she had suppressed many words deep within her heart, reserving only the most necessary and appropriate ones for dealing with the affairs of the six palaces, for paying homage to the ladies of the court, and for educating the princes. The rest, she returned to silence.
Murong Mingyue gently closed the window, turned around, her cloak trailing silently over the lichen.
Tell me about today's schedule.
The female official immediately picked up the jade slip containing the records: "At dawn, the Shanggong Bureau submitted the December budget for the six palaces' expenses, requesting Your Majesty's approval. At three-quarters of the morning, Consort Shu requested an audience, mentioning the illustrations for the 'Ethics and Morality' chapter of the elementary school textbook, which required Your Majesty's decision. At 9:00 AM, Consort Xian sent someone to take her pulse, saying that Your Majesty had a slight cough the day before yesterday. At noon..."
"You're very kind, Consort Xian." Murong Mingyue nodded slightly, interrupting her, "Tell her that her minor illness has healed and she doesn't need to worry. Tell her to take the pulses of those students in the Imperial Medical Academy more often, and not to keep thinking about me."
The female official suppressed a laugh and agreed.
The snow outside the window had not stopped. The morning bell of Rissei-den rang out amidst the fine snow, its deep sound carrying far.
---
Chengxiang Hall, the imperial concubine's sleeping quarters.
In stark contrast to the tranquility of the Lizheng Hall, the West Warm Pavilion of the Chengxiang Hall was brightly lit from the beginning of the morning, with the constant clatter of abacuses.
Su Xiaoxiao sat behind a huge rosewood desk, six account books of varying thickness spread out before her. They ranged from the Ministry of Revenue's "Estimated Autumn Taxes in Various Circuits," to the Imperial Household Department's "Cost Accounting for Jianghuai Silk and Winter Goods," and then to the Imperial Medical Bureau's "Budget for the Procurement of Medicinal Herbs in the Second Year of Qiming"—the latter accompanied by a crooked note in Lan Fenghuang's handwriting, the characters resembling scattered beans: "Young Miss, could you approve an extra three thousand strings of cash for the wound medicine? I promise to send you ten jars of Miao wildflower honey for the New Year this year!"
Su Xiaoxiao glanced at the notepad, a slight smile playing on her lips. She picked up her pen and wrote "Approved" on the budget book, then took another sheet of paper and wrote three lines:
"Two jars of wildflower honey will suffice. The three thousand strings of cash have been approved and will be disbursed in four installments over the four seasons. The accounts must be kept separately, and the Censorate will review them."
She put down her pen and continued working on the abacus. The sound of pearls clinking together was as fine and dense as rain.
The palace maids of Chengxiang Palace were long accustomed to the Imperial Concubine's schedule—rising earlier than the Emperor and sleeping later than the head lady-in-chief of the Shanggong Bureau. Some said that the Imperial Concubine's sandalwood abacus was so polished that the beads gleamed like jade, and the rim was worn with dents. Others said that the Concubine didn't actually need an abacus; she could do mental arithmetic faster than abacuses, and the clicking sound was merely the rhythm of her thinking.
At this moment, Su Xiaoxiao's speed in moving the abacus beads suddenly slowed down, stopping at an account.
That was a special fund allocated by the Imperial Household Department to the Ministry of Education for the "construction of the Normal School," totaling 17,000 strings of cash. The accounts themselves were correct, and her hesitation wasn't about the money—but rather about the two seals side by side she saw in the signature column for the use of this special fund:
Firstly, it is the name seal of Consort Shu, Lin Wan'er.
Su Xiaoxiao stared at the small seal for a moment, then continued to move the abacus beads, and the clicking sound returned to normal.
"Someone come here."
"Your Majesty."
"The three thousand strings of cash from the Imperial Medical Bureau will be drawn from the 'interest-bearing silver' account of the Imperial Treasury, not from this year's usual practice. Let's inform the Ministry of Revenue so they don't scratch their heads at the numbers when they close the books at the end of the year."
"Yes."
The palace maid withdrew. Su Xiaoxiao lowered her head again and flipped through the stack of account books to find a thin book with a plain cover. The title page had three words written on it: "Discussions on Commercial Law".
This is a draft she is working on with Lin Wan'er, Jia Wen, and several officials from the Ministry of Revenue, aimed at regulating commercial contracts, money shops, and customs duties. Su Xiaoxiao is drafting the chapter on "Taxes and Customs Duties," while Lin Wan'er is responsible for the chapter on "Contractual Liability." The two have debated this issue at least ten times—regarding the upper limit of penalties for breach of contract, whether the government can intervene in the collection of private debts, and whether a woman's sole proprietorship should be used to pay off debts when her husband's family goes bankrupt…
Su Xiaoxiao opened the chapter on "Contractual Responsibility," her gaze falling on Lin Wan'er's neat, delicate calligraphy. The words were elegant, the logic meticulous, and the writing exuded the restraint and thoughtfulness of a refined lady from Jiangnan. She read slowly, her brows sometimes relaxing, sometimes furrowing slightly.
The snow outside the window fell heavier. But the sound of the abacus in Chengxiang Hall grew ever clearer and crisper.
---
Qiyun Pavilion, the bedroom of Consort Shu.
Lin Wan'er was not in the palace. She had gone to the "Elementary Textbook Compilation Office" in the west wing of the Imperial Academy early in the morning—her most frequent place since the establishment of the Education Commissioner's Office. Chen Xing had granted her special permission to travel in and out of the palace by sedan chair, so as not to walk and avoid being harmed by the winter wind and snow. Lin Wan'er thanked him for his grace, but still insisted on walking.
"Riding in a carriage is a favor, walking is my duty," she said softly to the hesitant lady-in-waiting. "I am not here because of my weakness, but because I am useful. As a useful person, I should do useful things."
At this moment, she was sitting with several elderly scholars around a long table piled with manuscripts, reviewing the third draft of "Enlightenment Primer: Ethics" sentence by sentence.
"For the section on 'Neighborly Assistance,' I believe the illustration should depict a scene of rescuing someone from drowning in the water towns of Jiangnan," a white-bearded scholar pointed to the sketch, his voice booming. "Only with both text and illustrations can one truly capture the spirit of kindness and compassion!"
"Saving someone from drowning is certainly admirable," Lin Wan'er said gently but firmly, pointing to the obviously wrongly drawn oar in the illustration. "However, in Jiangnan, the oars enter the water at this angle to keep the boat stable. If this is drawn wrong, the children of Jiangnan will laugh when they see it in the future. I have already asked the Ministry of Works' Water Conservancy Department to draw up a standard boat design, and we will replace it with this one."
The old scholar was taken aback. He looked closely at the illustration, his face flushed slightly, and he remained silent, embarrassed.
Another middle-aged editor seized the opportunity to hand over a new page of manuscript: "Your Highness, I have revised the interpretation of the 'Filial Piety' chapter. I have added a footnote to the passage 'While parents are alive, one should not travel far' to His Majesty's previous imperial edict: 'If one travels far for the sake of national affairs, the people's livelihood, or pursuing studies, one should frequently write letters and send gifts to comfort one's parents; this is also filial piety.' Do you approve?"
Lin Wan'er took it, read it carefully, and nodded slightly: "Appropriate. With this annotation, many sons of farmers and merchants will no longer have to bear the stigma of being unfilial for going to the capital for the imperial examinations or doing business in distant places. This is precisely His Majesty's profound intention."
She picked up her pen and wrote the words "ready to be published" at the top of the manuscript page. Her handwriting was elegant, but her strokes were surprisingly vigorous.
The sunlight gradually shifted. Outside the window, the ancient locust tree in the courtyard of the Imperial Academy had shed all its leaves, its branches laden with snow, its posture somewhat resembling the crabapple tree in the Lizheng Hall. Lin Wan'er glanced up occasionally, looked for a moment, then lowered her eyes again to continue reviewing the next manuscript.
This morning she had planned to go to the Lizheng Hall to see the Empress—regarding the illustrations for the section on "Women's Virtues" in the "Ethics and Morality" chapter. She had considered three options, but none seemed quite right. Too conservative, and it might contradict His Majesty's intention to innovate; too novel, and it might invite criticism from the court officials. She wanted to hear the Empress's opinion.
However, news came from the Imperial Household Department that the Empress was to approve the December budget for the six palaces today, and there would be a rehearsal of the court ladies' court audience in the afternoon. Lin Wan'er therefore did not send an invitation.
"I'll go tomorrow," she said to herself, her gaze returning to the desk.
The snow outside the window stopped, then started falling again.
---
Fangzhixuan, the palace of the virtuous concubine.
Lan Fenghuang is no longer at Fangzhixuan.
The imperial physicians on duty at the Herbal Garden were already used to it: if the Consort Xian hadn't appeared by 3:45 AM, she must have spent another night in the "Gu Chamber." The so-called "Gu Chamber" was an inconspicuous little brick house in the backyard of the Herbal Garden, with a copper lock on the outside and fine gauze covering the windows. The temperature and humidity inside were maintained year-round at the same level as in the deep mountains of Miao territory. No one was allowed to enter except for Lan Fenghuang and the three Miao female disciples she had personally trained.
At this moment, Lan Fenghuang was squatting in the corner of the Gu chamber, holding her breath and staring at the two groups of golden thread Gu confronting each other in the bamboo tray.
She arrived at dawn this morning, wrapped in an old cotton robe, her hair haphazardly tied up, her hairpin nowhere to be seen. Miao girl A'luo knelt beside her, holding a candlestick, her eyelids drooping with sleep, but dared not utter a sound.
"Attack it..." Blue Phoenix whispered, clenching her fists. "Bite its wings! No, go around its back! Ugh, you stupid thing..."
Inside the bamboo tray, the leaders of the two groups of Golden Thread Gu finally locked in a fierce battle, the trembling of their tiny wings producing a sharp, piercing sound. Blue Phoenix stared wide-eyed, holding her breath.
A moment later, the victor bit off the loser's whiskers and strode proudly in the center of the bamboo tray. The loser curled up in a ball, trembling.
"It's done!" Blue Phoenix leaped up, nearly hitting her head on the low roof beam. "A'Luo, quickly remember! The winning group, numbered Dingqi, has 20% stronger silk-spinning ability than the Yisan group! This is a new lineage; it can have its own separate shed!"
Aro frantically flipped through the record book.
Lan Fenghuang then realized her legs were numb. She grimaced and sat down, leaning against the wall, rubbing her knees, but couldn't stop smiling. This batch of Golden Thread Gu was cultivated through repeated crossbreeding between the original strain she brought from Miao territory and wild silkworms from Guanzhong. After more than half a year of hard work, she finally managed to cultivate a stable lineage that could produce strong silk.
"Aro," she suddenly asked, "tell me, if this silk were woven into a bandage, how much stronger would it be than a regular linen bandage for stopping bleeding?"
A'Luo honestly replied, "This servant does not know... We would have to ask my colleagues in the Imperial Medical Bureau to try it before we can know."
"Yes, we have to try." Lan Fenghuang nodded, then added, "But we have to be quick. Winter has arrived in the northern frontier, and there are many cases of frostbite on the border. Some soldiers' wounds have ruptured and are bleeding uncontrollably. General Chen Wei mentioned in his last letter that the military medical corps doesn't have enough wound medicine..."
As she spoke, her voice gradually lowered. A'Luo peeked over and saw that Consort Xian was leaning against the wall, her eyelids slowly drooping, and she had fallen asleep.
The candlelight flickered, illuminating her serene face. The princess was only nineteen years old, and the childlike innocence of a Miao girl still lingered in her eyes. At this moment, her sleeping face was peaceful, as if she were still that little phoenix chasing butterflies, gathering herbs, and being chased and spanked by her grandmother in the mountain village.
A'luo dared not disturb her, so she gently put down the candlestick, picked up the cotton robe that had fallen to the ground, and covered her with it.
A very soft knock came from outside the door. A Luo tiptoed over, opened the door a crack, and saw a lady-in-waiting from Fangzhixuan, holding a food box.
"Her Highness hasn't had breakfast again," the lady-in-waiting said in a low voice, her face full of helplessness. "These are silver thread rolls sent by the Imperial Concubine. She said... she promised to send Her Highness some snacks last time, and she made them today when she had some free time. This servant dares not enter the Gu chamber, so I'm troubling Miss A'Luo..."
A Luo took the food box, opened the lid, and saw that the steaming hot silver thread rolls were neatly arranged and smelled delicious.
She turned around and saw that Lan Fenghuang had woken up at some point and was craning her neck to look in her direction.
"Your Majesty?"
Lan Fenghuang rubbed her eyes, stared at the box of silver thread rolls, and suddenly smiled.
She smiled softly, her eyes crinkling like the sunshine that occasionally peeks through the first snow in Chang'an.
---
Night fell. The snow stopped, and the wind died down.
After reviewing the last batch of memorials in the Wenhua Hall, Chen Xing did not ride in a palanquin, but instead took two eunuchs with him and walked slowly along the palace corridor toward the inner palace. The snow crunched softly on the soles of his boots, and the palace lanterns hanging under the corridor swayed gently in the wind, casting long shadows of him.
He stopped and glanced in the direction of Lizheng Hall, where the lights were extinguished, with only the wind chimes on the eaves tinkling faintly in the night. He turned to Chengxiang Hall, where the sound of the abacus had long since ceased, and a thin halo of light shone through the window paper. He then looked in the direction of Qiyun Pavilion, where lights were faintly visible, but they were indistinct behind the layers of palace walls.
Finally, he arrived at the gate of the Imperial Medical Academy's Herbal Garden.
Just as the guard was about to announce the news, Chen Xing raised his hand to stop him.
Through the courtyard wall, he could vaguely hear the chirping of Blue Phoenix coming from inside, seemingly arguing with someone about the naming rules of the Golden Thread Gu lineage. Another, more composed voice occasionally echoed, belonging to the Imperial Physician Supervisor.
Chen Xing stood there for a moment, but did not go in.
He turned around and slowly walked back to the Wenhua Hall along the path he had come from.
The lantern under the eaves still swayed gently, leaving a lonely trail of footprints on the snow, which were soon smoothed over by the night and the chill.
---
That night, there was no snow in Chang'an.
Each of the four halls of Taiji Palace has a candle in its window, flickering and watching over the night like four distant stars dwelling under the same sky.
Their brilliance is unique, yet they complement each other.