Character Index
Zhou Ying: The previous Emperor, given the posthumous title of Xuanzong.
Wise Consort: Mother of Zhou Yunqi. Now deceased. Was posthumously honored as Empress.
Zhou Yunqi: The former Fifth Prince, currently the Emperor.
Zhou Kuang: Former Third Prince, deceased.
Consort Liang: Liang Shen and Liang Hongfei/Hu Qing’s niece. Due to a large age difference between the siblings, Hu Qing is actually younger than his niece.
Qiu Jinwei: Yunqi’s strategist.
Cao Shuyi: Wife of Zhou Kuang. Mother of Zhou Chenqian.
Royal Consort: Kuang’s mother. Now the Empress Dowager (as the highest ranking consort still alive).
Consort Zhao: Wenyuan’s aunt, a consort of Zhou Ying.
Consort Chen: A consort of Zhou Ying.
Chen Caichun: A Chamberlain in the Court of Judicial Review. The only female civil official.
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The sudden passing of the Emperor Xuanzong–the deceased Zhou Ying–had left an uncomfortable question for the new administration. What was to be done with his harem?
Most Emperors left some sort of orders or edicts for how they were to be handled, but Zhou Ying had passed away without any such thing. In his final days, he hadn’t even mentioned any of his Consorts save to posthumously raise the status of the late Wise Consort.
The problem, of course, fell to the new Emperor.
Yunqi read over the roster, letting out a soft sigh. There were a few different options available. Consorts who had borne children generally remained within the palace. Those with adult sons may leave to live in their sons' households or fiefs. Those who were childless either went to live near the Emperor’s tomb or became nuns. But there was precedent from previous dynasties where the consorts were allowed to go home.
Would they be welcomed back though?
It wasn’t just the question of a few consorts, but also all their servants who needed a place to go to. Some servants would be dismissed, of course. Not eunuchs–that would be inhumane. Incomplete men as they were, they had nowhere to belong save in the Imperial household. But ladies-in-waiting and serving maids who had been with their mistresses for years couldn’t just be torn apart from each other either.
Who stayed, who left, the numbers and faceless names on the pages before him obscured all the realities of their lives.
The consorts were of course the biggest problem–if they went home, would he grant them permission to remarry? Some, like Consort Liang, were still young enough. It would be highly controversial. Chastity, loyalty, filial piety, the dignity of the Imperial household, all of those were potential arguments the court could raise.
Yunqi sighed again, setting down the document.
“Qiu Jinwei, what do you think of this?” Yunqi asked. His strategist raised his head up from where it had been resting on a pile of important documents. Yunqi pretended not to see the ink smudges on Qiu Jinwei’s cheek.
“The consorts, my liege? Well, it is cruel to say it this way, but there’s no real benefit in taking a political risk for their sake. Following the dynasty’s precedent is the best way forward,” Qiu Jinwei said.
“Forcing them to live their lives out in a nunnery or in that dreary place by the Emperor’s tomb?” Yunqi said. “There is precedent from previous dynasties of other options.”
“I know,” Qiu Jinwei replied. “But the court might object. Many of the families don’t want their Consorts back either. If they live at the tombs or the temple, the cost goes either to the Imperial coffers or to the temples, but if they return home, they live on their families’ coin. The Emperor can downgrade their lifestyles, but how can a mere official do so to a Dowager Consort? Much more so for women who have been away from home for years, if not for decades. Who would welcome them back when the political benefits don’t balance the costs?”
“Then what if they were allowed to remarry?” Yunqi asked.
“It would be too controversial,” Qiu Jinwei said. “Just as the Third Princess Consort could never remarry, neither can the Dowager Consorts.”
“You’re right,” Yunqi muttered. It was almost unthinkable that Cao Shuyi should remarry, being the mother of an Imperial Prince.
“I suppose there’s no other choice then,” Yunqi sighed. “Those who bore children in the past may remain in the palace. Those who did not will be given the choice of going to the Emperor’s tomb or to a nunnery.”
Qiu Jinwei bowed his head slightly. “A wise decision, my liege.”
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Even with his decision made, Yunqi didn’t send out the edict. He knew he was tormenting the poor Consorts by dragging it out. There wasn’t even any point to it, since there weren’t any other options to begin with. But strangely, Yunqi couldn’t bring himself to make the edict official.
Perhaps it was sympathy for the women who shared the same struggles as his mother, or perhaps it was unneeded pity.
There’s enough to worry about without delaying this matter, Yunqi thought grimly. If it had been Kuang, the older prince would have known what to do without hesitating even once.
“Your Majesty?”
Yunqi glanced up at the familiar voice.
“Ah, Wenyuan, you’re here,” Yunqi said with a little relief.
“Are you alright, Your Majesty? You look weary,” Wenyuan said. “Even if there is a lot to be dealt with, your health must come first. We can always hire more secretaries.”
“It’s not that,” Yunqi said. “It’s just the matter of my Father’s consorts.”
He explained the situation to Wenyuan, finishing off with a sigh.
“This shouldn’t even be a problem. We have precedents and we have a system in place to provide for them,” Yunqi said. “It’s just…I’ve visited the Imperial tombs before, and I’ve seen some of the widowed consorts from my grandfather’s time. I wouldn’t wish that kind of life on these women.”
Wenyuan’s face twisted in sympathy, flickering with an emotion that Yunqi couldn’t quite identify.
“I’ve never met any at the Imperial tombs, but I’ve met some widowed consorts in the temples before,” Wenyuan remarked. “I suppose that’s a good option for women with a spiritual calling, but it’s true that it’s not for everyone. Yet both the tomb and the temple ensure the women’s virtue and chastity, while allowing them to return home without allowing them to remarry will be sure to result in a scandal at some point. Some of them are still young, after all.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Yunqi said.
“It’s pitiful, the standards they’re held to,” Wenyuan murmured, almost to himself.
“How about a school then?” Wenyuan said, turning his attention back to Yunqi.
“What?”
“The Imperial Consorts are all well-educated, and they are skilled in etiquette and rites far beyond the average noblewoman,” Wenyuan said. “I’ve heard of many widows who are engaged in charity work, especially in countries to the west of Rome. Perhaps starting an institution like that would allow the consorts to have more fulfilling lives than simply waiting out the rest of their years at the Imperial Tombs.”
“But a school? For what?” Yunqi asked.
Wenyuan winced, visibly flustered. “Well, I don’t know what would be best. They’re noblewomen who have lived cloistered in the palace for years, but they have the education and the political acumen that has allowed them to survive in the harem for so long. Why let those talents go to waste? Maybe a school itself isn’t a good idea in the first place–just that the notion of nuns reminded me of something I heard about schools run by nuns in the far West. But the Dowager Consorts are doubtlessly good candidates for implementing tasks regarding welfare and charity, particularly those related to women and children. They certainly have the prestige to do so.”
Yunqi considered the notion for a moment. It wasn’t like Wenyuan to propose such a vague plan of action rather than a specific policy. But it was evident that Wenyuan was also out of his depth. No one really knew what to do with the Imperial Dowager Consorts, a diverse array of women united only by their former status as his father’s consorts.
At least this idea was something new.
“We have a lot of issues regarding the legal protections of widows and their property,” Wenyuan continued. “A lot of the cases that have emerged through the communication network have to do with widows who were cheated of their estates, or even their own dowries. We don’t have any systems in place to get them help, and those who offer help often do so on an informal basis. There’s no shortage of widows who were pressured or forced into sexual relations in exchange for legal assistance either, especially for women who have little education or knowledge about how these cases work.”
“I’ve heard as much,” Yunqi said.
“There’s plenty of other issues relating to women and children that get overlooked because political and military issues take priority. Widows of foreign merchants who are stranded when their husbands die in the Wu, widespread infanticide in impoverished areas, orphans chased off their family properties, the illegal sale and rental of wives for reproductive purposes, the lack of medical care, there are countless problems that are eating away at the fabric of our society bit by bit,” Wenyuan said.
He gestured feebly. “It’s too much for our current system to handle everything at once–but the Imperial Dowager Consorts without children have nothing to do for the rest of their lives anyways. If we set up an institution to employ their services, well…” The Duke trailed off, his confidence waning at the uncertainty of it all.
The whole thing was based on “what-ifs”. Even if Yunqi liked the idea itself, that was a terrible basis for policy, and Wenyuan knew it too.
“Perhaps we can commission a taskforce to look into it,” Wenyuan finally offered.
Yunqi stroked his chin. The idea wasn’t bad. The welfare of commoners varied based on the capacities of their local governments, and where the officials failed, clans stepped in and gained influence. Once the locals formed a dependency on the clans, then they became the first ones to oppose policies that benefited them in the long run. The clans knew as much, which is why they could pilfer and collude all they want in other places, but generally left their hometowns alone.
With a network of charitable institutions, he could shake the major clans’ hold on the localities while improving the wellbeing of his people.
But throughout the country? I didn’t take Wenyuan to be such an idealist. Will women who have lived in luxurious cages for so long be willing to abandon a meaningless but comfortable existence to pursue such a course of action?
Yet these women couldn’t go home–Qiu Jinwei was right: Many of the families were already petitioning for their own daughters, sisters, and nieces to be sent to the Imperial tomb, almost in fear of gaining an expensive burden in their own households.
They can also guess that I pity those women, huh? It seems that I feel more for them than their own families do.
Perhaps it couldn’t be helped. Those who did want their family members back couldn’t exactly petition the new Emperor on how to deal with his step-mothers, who rightfully belonged to the Imperial Family once they became consorts. That only left those who couldn’t care less to freely petition for the Dowager Consorts’ fates, protected by dynastic precedent.
Sure, they might not want to leave the capital, but they already have to choose–the nunnery or the tomb? In either case, their living standards decline significantly, and they would be trapped there in solitude until they died. So would they really show such resistance to a third option?
Even if it didn’t work out, the taskforce itself and the threat of setting up a government institution to intervene directly in social welfare could keep the clans on edge for a while.
“This is unprecedented,” Yunqi said, carefully weighing the option in his mind. “For the Inner Palace to interfere with politics…”
“Not politics but charity. There have been Empress Dowagers who engaged extensively in charity work,” Wenyuan said earnestly. “Since you have honored the Dowager Royal Consort as Empress Dowager, perhaps you can ask her to organize the Imperial Dowager Consorts and their staff. We have more than enough capable female administrators in the Inner Palace who could achieve a great deal more with your permission to.”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Would you look at that, Yunqi thought. He’s brimming with enthusiasm.
If that was the case, then he doubted that it would end in disgrace–Wenyuan wouldn’t allow it to.
“I’m willing to give it a try,” Yunqi said. “You have a very capable official under you–Chen Caichun, was it? Will you lend her to me for this matter?”
“That girl, like any other official, belongs to Your Majesty,” Wenyuan said with a bow of his head. “Please order them as you see fit.”
“If I recall correctly, this Chen Caichun has a real talent for drafting policies,” Yunqi said. “As we have no legal precedent to follow, we will have to rely on her brilliance. I will commission her as the head of the taskforce to investigate potential solutions for how to deal with the Imperial Dowager Consorts. Since we will require someone who can freely communicate with them, then a woman is indeed best. ”
“I’m sure that if it is her, she will be able to come up with something suitable,” Wenyuan replied.
“Good. Then in the meantime, the Dowager Consorts will be asked to relocate to the Emperor’s tomb,” Yunqi said.
“As you wish,” Wenyuan said, bowing his head.
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Consort Zhao wiped the tears off her face as she watched the palace disappear in the distance behind her. Beside her, Consort Liang patted her shoulder comfortingly.
“I sacrificed the best years of my life for that place, and now it’s all over,” Consort Zhao wept.
“It’s not so bad, at least we’ll be together at the Imperial tomb,” Consort Liang assured her. “Plus, I hear that the new Emperor is working on something that will allow us to leave the tomb. We won’t be there for long.”
“Even if we can leave, where would we go?” Consort Zhao said bitterly. “I can’t go home. My parents passed away while I was in the palace, and my nephew…I don’t want to live in his household. I’m sure he will accept me, but…”
Consort Liang fell silent. While she was in the palace, the ownership of the Liang clan had changed from the uncle who had doted on her to a youngster a few years younger than herself. Though Liang Hongfei was technically also her uncle, he was practically a stranger to her. For years, she had thought he was her illegitimate cousin. The idea of living under his roof wasn’t appealing to her either.
“Maybe that’s not what he means,” Consort Liang said, trying to persuade herself more so than Consort Zhao. “He’s known to be kind–the late Wise Consort, no, the late Empress Shu was such a kind person, surely her son won’t be too different.”
The sound of quiet sobs echoed from the carriages around them as they arrived at the Imperial tomb. The actual maintenance of the rites wouldn’t require them for the most part, but it was a dreary place regardless. Wizened old women shuffled out from buildings to watch their arrival, and Consort Zhao belatedly realized they were consorts from the previous generation.
Consort Zhao’s legs went weak as she met the lifeless gaze of an old woman without any teeth. The old woman was still dressed in the finery of her younger days, the clothing now loose on her wizened frame.
Her serving maids caught her before she could fall, and Consort Zhao steadied herself despite the nausea swirling in her stomach.
Was this her destiny as well? To live out the rest of her life in this town, dreaming of the “good old days” in the palace when the Emperor barely even paid her any attention?
She wanted to throw up. She squeezed her eyes shut, leaning against the carriage to try and get her bearings. Consort Zhao jolted as a hand gently patted her arm.
It was the old lady she had seen before.
“You must be tired from the journey,” the old woman said, her words coming out a little strange on account of her lack of teeth. “Come and sit down a bit, you’ll feel better.”
The kindness made her feel ashamed of her earlier thoughts. To her embarrassment, Consort Zhao felt tears welling up in her eyes again.
“Oh, poor child, it’s not that bad,” the old woman said kindly, leading her over to sit on a bench. “Us old women play mahjong together a few nights each week. Back in the day we played all prim and proper, but now we cause a ruckus and curse each other out when we lose. You’ll hear us soon enough! Our hearing is going, so our voices just keep getting louder each game. You girls are free to join us if you can stand the noise.” The old woman chuckled, and Consort Zhao couldn’t help but laugh a little as well.
“Now that there’s some young’uns, this place will finally be more lively,” the old woman said. “Many of my friends have died by now, so I’m happy for the company. Maybe you girls will get to stretch your legs and run wild a bit after being cooped up acting all ladylike in the palace.”
Consort Zhao wiped her face, a little awkward and a little touched at being treated like a child at almost forty years of age. Though the old woman made her feel a little better, despair still loomed over her. This had never been what she wanted for her life.
“The new Emperor’s a good man, he might change some things,” Consort Zhao said.
“That would be nice of him,” the old woman said, but Consort Zhao could see that she didn’t think it would happen.
“I feel better now, I should go and help with the luggage,” Consort Zhao said. “How should I address you, my lady? If you don’t mind, I would like to join your mahjong games.”
The old woman smiled. “I would like that. My surname is Lu. You can just call me Aunty Lu.”
“Gladly,” Consort Zhao said. “Then I will see you later, Aunty Lu.”
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Consort Zhao sat with Consort Chen and Consort Liang, as well as two serving girls who, sans the formality of the palace, now played card games with their mistresses. The atmosphere was lighthearted, but it was a frail gaiety that could shatter at a moment’s notice.
Life at the Imperial tomb wasn’t half as comfortable as it had been in the palace. The only saving grace was that they no longer had to fight for the Emperor’s affections.
In all truth, Consort Zhao hadn’t been all that sad when Zhou Ying died. He hadn’t been unkind, even though he had been neglectful, and she didn’t see much of him in his final days. She still remembered him as the handsome man who could easily sweep her into his arms.
But she had known he would die long before he actually passed away. She, and the other women, had all known it from the moment the First and Second Princes died. It might have been some instinct they developed from watching longingly after him for so many years, but they had all sensed it coming, and most had already mourned him before he was dead.
Consort Zhao was sure that some were actually glad for it. The cutthroat politics of the harem were no longer their business. But this life wasn’t what they had wanted either. Some had found peace, living the monotonous and meaningless days out one by one. Some were slowly sinking into despair.
She was one of the latter.
Should I beg my nephew for help? He could get her out of here, she was sure of it. But for what? To live under his watch instead? Wenyuan scared her a little, though she didn’t want to admit it. And what would happen to her friends if she left? Consort Zhao had come to see them more as family than she did her own kin.
The game stopped as someone knocked on the door.
One of the serving girls went to open it, stepping aside with a puzzled look on her face.
A young woman dressed in the robes of a court official stepped through, bowing her head slightly.
“Please pardon my interruption, Your Highnesses. This lowly official Chen Caichun humbly offers her greetings.”
The women stared at her in shock for a moment. A court official? Visiting them? And it was a woman! A female court official, in the civil administration!
Soon a flurry of excited greetings and questions erupted in the room, and Chen Caichun was pulled into a seat at the table. The young woman politely answered their inquiries about their families, her own experiences as an official, that yes she had been recommended by Zhao Wenyuan, and that she was here by the Emperor’s orders.
For what?
Caichun’s answer shocked them. She was the head of a taskforce investigating the potential of creating a new institution for the Dowager Consorts.
What kind of institution?
A social welfare institution that would allow Dowager Consorts the choice of leaving the Imperial tomb to enter nunneries, or to act as patrons of state-run charities outside of the capital, in any location that was not their hometown.
Why not their hometowns?
For fear of collusion.
Why outside of the capital?
Because the capital didn’t need it as badly. After extensive research, it was determined that the most feasible and cost-effective option would be outside of the capital. And it was only an option–they didn’t have to go. But if they would be willing, she had questions for them as well.
There was silence for a moment as the consorts took in Caichun’s words. Charity work? Most had no experience whatsoever. And they would have to leave to head to god knows where.
But the consorts gladly obliged this fascinating young woman.
Chen Caichun asked a comprehensive set of questions about their education, their knowledge of various legal procedures, a set of arithmetic questions, a few sample documents to fill out, and so on so forth. It went on and on, but it was almost kind of fun. When was the last time anyone had asked them such things?
They were almost disappointed when it came to an end.
“Your Highnesses, this is the final question I wanted to ask,” Caichun said.
“Go on,” they urged her.
“What do you want to do?”
Her question was met with complete silence.
“Would you be interested in doing this type of work? Or do you have other pursuits that you would be interested in?” Caichun prompted. “I will do my best to take your wishes into consideration, so please share your true thoughts with me.”
Consort Liang was the first to speak.
“I like children,” she said, face flushed red. “I like taking care of children, but I don’t have any of my own.”
Caichun nodded encouragingly.
“I just don’t want to stay here,” Consort Zhao blurted out. “I can’t stay here!”
She stopped herself, a little embarrassed.
“I feel the same,” Consort Chen said. “I’m not very capable, but…I don’t know what I want to do. I always knew I would marry, but I thought that would be my life, taking care of my husband and children. I ended up becoming a consort instead, but even then, I thought it would always be that way. So I don’t know, but…anything that’s not this.”
“I don’t know for sure if this will work out,” Caichun said. “And I don’t know what it will end up being like. So I will not make you any promises that I cannot be certain of. But if these are your wishes, then I will fight for them until the very end.”
She was met with admiring looks from the consorts and servants.
“Thank you, Official Chen,” Consort Zhao said warmly. “We’ll be counting on you.”
They sent her off with great reluctance when she had to leave to interview other consorts.
“Do you think it will actually happen? That we will go and…I don’t know, do whatever it is that they want us to do?” Consort Chen asked. “I wonder what it’ll be like.”
“It probably won’t be worse than staying here,” Consort Liang said.
“Well, we don’t know that for sure,” Consort Chen said.
“She did say we would have the option to stay,” Consort Liang replied.
Consort Chen made a face at that.
“If I could go out there and do something for this country, I would,” Consort Liang said passionately. “I always wished that I had been born a man–no, not that I was born a man, but that I could live like one. If I could build a career for myself, I surely would have been able to live without regrets! I loved His Majesty, but he’s gone now. If I could leave, I would!”
“Me too,” Consort Zhao said, surprising herself.
“But will the court really agree to it?” Consort Chen said. “I mean…it essentially extends the direct influence of the palace to the local level. Why would they be willing to support it?”
The mood grew somber again.
“That young woman seems to be very smart,” one of the serving girls, a girl called Qiuyue, jumped in. “And isn’t she under the patronage of Consort Zhao’s nephew? If the Duke of Zhao is supporting the measure, then it’s likely to go through, isn’t it?”
“I hope so,” Consort Zhao said. “But even if it does, I’m sure we’ll have to face a lot of difficulties in the future.”
“That’s alright,” Consort Liang said, showing a girlish smile. “I’m fine with that.”
Her friends returned the smile, an uncertain hope flickering in their chests.
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Cultural Notes
Eunuchs: Eunuchs were often selected from poor families, usually with families offering up young sons that they can’t afford to raise. These eunuchs would be castrated–the procedure was refined over time, but infection and death was still common enough. They served within the Inner Palace (hence why they needed to be castrated) and it wasn’t uncommon for eunuchs to develop into a powerful political force. As they had no background save for the Emperor, rulers sometimes came to overly rely on them and delegate too much power to them. Eunuchs who saved up a lot of money were able to live good lives, marry, and even adopt sons (who weren’t eunuchs, though it was common for them to have adopted sons within the palace who were also eunuchs). The famous Three Kingdoms era warlord Cao Cao was the grandson of an eunuch (his father was adopted by an incredibly wealthy one). However, poor eunuchs without savings and connections would struggle against discrimination and mockery in society.
The fate of Dowager Consorts: Generally speaking, the options are as mentioned by Yunqi in-story: stay in the palace if you’re a mom, go to your son’s fief if you’re a mom, if you have no kids or all your kids are dead you can go to the Emperor’s tomb, go to a temple, or go home. Emperor Wen of the Han Dynasty allowed his wives to go home–he was known for being frugal and benevolent, so this was pretty much expected. But while widows weren’t always prevented from remarrying, especially prior to the Song Dynasty, that didn’t apply to Dowager Consorts. Since they were married to the Emperor, they were expected to remain as chaste widows for the rest of their lives. This was very different from Ancient China’s nomadic neighbors where the next ruler was able to marry his stepmoms. Of course, some Chinese Emperors went ahead and did that anyways, though it was often controversial (see Wu Zetian’s example). There were some rulers who made other provisions–such as requiring their widows to commit suicide when they died. However, for centuries, there hasn’t really been alternative options for the Emperor’s consorts after his death, especially for childless widows. Kayla also doesn’t have anything to work off of, hence why she’s just throwing random ideas at Yunqi.
Emperor’s tomb: Some pseudo-history accounts like to perpetuate the idea that the Emperor’s widowed consorts would live in his tomb, which is absolutely ridiculous. The Emperor’s tomb often had a small town near/around it where people in charge of maintaining the tomb would live, along with his widows, as well as relatives who might be assigned to “watch over” the tomb, sometimes as a punishment.
Education of Imperial Consorts: It wasn’t uncommon for there to be a mix of social classes among Imperial Consorts–if the Emperor took interest in a maid, he generally would also grant her a position in his harem after sleeping with her. However, regardless of previous education, consorts would generally receive some form of etiquette training and basic education if only to prevent them from embarrassing the emperor. For girls from good families, it wasn’t uncommon for them to be highly educated (at least until after the Song Dynasty when misogyny started to get worse. As class differences intensified, so too did gender discrimination, and the belief that ‘for a woman to be without talent is virtuous’ began to take root. Nonetheless, many families strove to educate their daughters as well.)
Social welfare in Ancient China: Ancient China has a long history of social welfare institutions. In the Tang Dynasty, there were free medical clinics as well as institutions that took in the elderly, the sick, and orphans who had no one to care for them. However, these were limited to the capital only. Only by the Song dynasty did institutions begin to appear on a more local scale, but they only provided support to the extent of keeping people alive. As a result, local clans as well as rich people who had money and resources to spare could gain a lot of social capital in the form of an extensive network of people who owed them favors through providing monetary or material assistance in times of need.
租妻/Renting wives: An ancient form of surrogacy pregnancy where a poorer man may “rent” out his wife to a richer family who had trouble conceiving a boy. It was a cruel practice that women found humiliating, given the norms of the time, but were forced to endure by their husbands.
Mahjong: Is mahjong anachronistic? Yes, definitely. Mahjong in its current form didn’t exist until the 19th century, but I’m adding it anyway in honor of my late grandmother who loved mahjong.