Chapter Two: The Plan
All these years, besides cultivating her own character, the Empress Dowager placed the utmost importance on the upbringing of Wei Baofu.
She was fully aware of her granddaughter’s intelligence, and she was the only one she could wholly trust. Many times, when grief threatened to consume her and she could not escape the pain of losing her son, it was her granddaughter’s companionship that brought solace.
“Grandmother, if possible, you should write another letter. In this one, you might recall the past, or pour out the grief of a mother who has lost a son and cannot bear the thought of losing her second child.”
When Prince Lian died unexpectedly after falling from his horse, Wei Baofu was only two years old. She still remembered that young man who smiled with dimples like hers, remembered how he doted on his wife and daughter.
By then, the Emperor had already ascended the throne, and Prince Lian had adopted the demeanor of a contented, virtuous prince. There was no direct evidence to suggest the Emperor’s involvement, but the events that followed made it clear that something was amiss—so much so that a lack of intrigue would have been surprising. The Empress Dowager assumed she was too young to understand.
In truth, she remembered everything. She merely pretended ignorance and indifference, so her grandmother could find some comfort.
She could have grown up cherished by both parents; her resentment toward the Emperor was no less than her grandmother’s.
Wei Baofu knew her grandmother, though outwardly composed and calm, still had the same spirit as before, though she forced herself to suppress it.
Some matters, Wei Baofu feared her grandmother neither could manage nor endure.
As if sensing her thoughts, the Empress Dowager patted her hand reassuringly. She had endured so many years; she could stomach this one more bitter episode.
“Later, you can help Grandmother draft the letter. Once it’s done, I’ll copy it myself. Only, the Emperor may not be moved. He’s ruled for many years—his heart is as hard as iron.”
The Empress Dowager was merely quick-tempered, not without cunning; otherwise, she would not have monopolized the late Emperor’s affection for decades. Setting aside unnecessary emotion, she was no less shrewd than others.
Hearing this, Wei Baofu truly breathed a sigh of relief. All these calculations were for the sake of her and her grandmother’s peace. If these efforts only brought her grandmother more sorrow, she would rather reconsider their plans.
“If we rely solely on the Emperor, nothing will come of it. Now, who in the palace least wishes for our return? Where there are those who oppose us, there must also be those who await us expectantly. This could be mutually beneficial—we do not mind building the bridge ourselves.”
Thinking of that person, the Empress Dowager’s face twisted with loathing, but recalling her granddaughter, she swallowed her poisonous words.
Through gritted teeth, she said, “The one who least wishes our return is, of course, the Concubine Shu, while the Empress most likely feels the opposite.”
The Empress Dowager’s dislike of Concubine Shu was understandable. They were aunt and niece; the late Prince Lian’s wife and Concubine Shu were twin sisters. Concubine Shu’s determination to enter the palace cost the Empress Dowager her mother’s family as support.
Anyone who had seen the sisters knew they were identical in appearance, except that the princess was dignified and steady, while Concubine Shu was gentle and frail, rarely seen due to her poor health.
No one could explain why, after the princess’s death, Concubine Shu was brought into the palace. At the time, rumors circulated that the Emperor had long coveted the princess, and after her passing, was willing to settle for a substitute to console his longing.
The Empress Dowager abhorred this affair, but in the end, she was powerless. She could only watch coldly and even quarreled with her own family over it.
Wei Baofu’s lips curled into a faint, unreadable smile at the mention of Concubine Shu. The Empress Dowager couldn't decipher it; often, she did not fully understand her granddaughter, but that did not hinder her love.
“Then let us write another letter to the Empress. Now that the princes are all growing up and palace intrigue is never lacking, neither you nor I are without value. As long as we are useful, we can claim more for ourselves.”
The thought of avenging her father by killing the Emperor had crossed Wei Baofu’s mind, but a ruler’s life was bound to the fate of the nation. Vengeance must not threaten the very foundation of Da Zhao, which, after all, still bore the surname Wei.
“The Empress values her reputation, has little affection for the Emperor, and the Crown Prince’s position is unstable. She could be a useful piece on the chessboard.”
Wei Baofu chuckled. “Grandmother, at this moment, we don’t have the leverage to dictate terms. It’s the Empress who intends to use us as pawns.”
The Empress Dowager was unfazed. “Who is the pawn and who the player? In the end, it depends who profits.”
A woman who had survived the intrigue of the inner palace for decades could see through everything.
“As long as Grandmother has a plan, there’s no need to rush. Slow and steady ensures no mistakes.”
The Empress Dowager nodded in agreement. At this stage, there was little else to be done.
Though confined to this separate palace, the Empress Dowager devoted herself to Wei Baofu’s education, from music and chess to literature and household management, engaging the best tutors to ensure her granddaughter surpassed all others.
In her own youth, the Empress Dowager had little patience for such studies, but when it came to her granddaughter, she was relentless. A woman without powerful backing could only rely on herself to secure her future.
“All your tutors have left. Should Grandmother find more talented ones for you?”
Recently, several tutors resigned, saying that Lady Kangping’s learning had already surpassed theirs. The Empress Dowager felt both pride and comfort in her granddaughter’s eagerness to learn—there was no end to knowledge, and she wished to provide every opportunity.
Wei Baofu shook her head with a smile. “We’ll be leaving here soon. Inviting new tutors now would only bring trouble. I prefer to study on my own these days.”
Wei Baofu had a passion for learning, especially in unfamiliar fields, but she valued discretion above all—better to keep her abilities hidden.
Now that the tutors were gone, there was no need for more. Too many people knowing her true skills would only arouse suspicion.
“Don’t worry, I’ve instructed them not to speak freely after leaving. They are all true admirers of talent, and they cherish you. They watched you grow and know the boundaries.”
Wei Baofu had no concerns there; her tutors, eccentric as they were, sincerely wished her well.
“Grandmother, please help me gather more books in the future—I love reading.”
The Empress Dowager agreed with a smile. “You are better than Grandmother ever was. One day you’ll find a good husband and live a happy life, and when you reach my age, you’ll have a house full of children and grandchildren.”
This was her greatest hope now. Wei Baofu did not argue. In her past life, she had never married, though she had loved. Things had not worked out, perhaps because fate was not on her side.
She had never known the joy of children and grandchildren, but perhaps in this lifetime, she might—perhaps it would be wonderful.
“Grandmother, let’s finish the letters now. They require careful thought.”
The Empress Dowager nodded, and the two of them rose and entered the study, refining the drafts until they were satisfied. To demonstrate her sincerity, the Empress Dowager had the letters delivered openly that very night—one to the Emperor, one to the Empress, sent through a trusted agent.
The separate palace was especially cold at night. Even with guards patrolling outside, the maids and eunuchs dared not wander about.
Wei Baofu stood by the window, absently stroking the jade gourd in her hand. She remembered her mother had hung it around her neck on her second birthday.
Her mother’s smile had been so sweet, her gaze full of tender love. She told her the gourd symbolized blessings and prosperity—that her child was destined for a lifetime of happiness.
But not long after, her father died in a hunting accident, and it was said her mother, overcome by grief, soon followed him.
She never dared probe too deeply for the truth; instinctively, she sensed danger. At that time, it was safest to play the innocent child.
Her suddenly ennobled aunt, and her once doting but abruptly cold grandfather—all of it reeked of a cover-up.
Luckily, she was patient. No matter the truth, the day would come when the fog would lift and all would be revealed.
She placed the jade gourd back into its brocade box, refusing to dwell on the past. Better to devote her time to managing her holdings—no matter how noble one’s status, nothing was as secure as having silver in hand.
Since she was ten, the Empress Dowager had entrusted her with Prince Lian’s estates and the dowry of the princess. At first, old stewards managed things for her; later, she took over herself and trained a cadre of loyal, capable people.
Not only did she preserve the family holdings, she expanded them several times over. The Empress Dowager even gave her a portion of her own dowry, confident enough not to interfere further.
Though banished to this separate palace, they were not under house arrest. The Emperor’s men kept a close watch on the Empress Dowager, but Wei Baofu herself drew little attention. Over the years, she had identified and neutralized most of the spies. The Empress Dowager caused no trouble—spending her days with her granddaughter or at prayer.
In time, the Emperor stopped concerning himself with their affairs, never realizing that his niece controlled a veritable mountain of gold right under his nose.
“Tomorrow the stewards will be coming to discuss business. Should we send those watchers far away again?” asked Nanny Qian, referring to the spies.
She felt at ease serving the young lady; even if they never returned to the palace, her mistress would never want for anything. Her intelligence was unassailable—the true foundation of her standing.
“That won’t be necessary. The Emperor knows about my properties—he doesn’t mind what’s in the open, and he’ll never discover what’s hidden. As for those spies, they’re useless now.”
Nanny Qian was relieved. “Shall I call back Pearl and Linglong? They’ve served you since childhood, and both come from the prince’s household. If they’re not by your side, people will be suspicious should we return to the palace.”
Those closest to Wei Baofu were absolutely loyal. At first, perhaps it was due to her status, but eventually, it was her personal charisma that won their hearts.
Picking up the book she had been reading the night before, Wei Baofu immersed herself in its pages, replying absently, “Don’t worry, Nanny. I’ve already made arrangements. Both sisters will be by my side.”
Iceheart looked at her mistress with a helpless smile and whispered to Nanny Qian, “Our lady is perfect in every way, but once she starts reading, she gets lost in her books. As long as she has something to read, she’ll forget to eat or sleep.”
Nanny Qian whispered back, “You’re on duty tonight, so don’t let her read too late. By the hour of the Boar, make sure she rests.”
Iceheart nodded and, after bidding the nanny goodnight, sat quietly with her needlework, occasionally glancing at her mistress. If the tea ran low, she refilled it; if the candle flickered, she trimmed the wick—caring for her with the utmost devotion.