Chapter 265: Extra Chapter 1: A Long Sick Leave

One must take a long-term view of things, not just focus on short-term benefits.

This saying perfectly described the latter half of Queen Chu’s life.

She relinquished her authority and retreated behind the scenes, causing the Chu Family—whose younger generation already lacked great talent—to decline even further. At first, many assumed the Emperor was doting on Consort Hao to an excessive degree and intended to suppress the Empress. They expected that in a few years, he would either depose her or let her die quietly of some “illness.” Later, they realized this wasn’t the case at all.

The Emperor clearly still held great respect for the Empress.

So, what was the Empress’s game? Why would she just hand over her power? In a few years, once Consort Hao was firmly established, she would sooner or later find a way to get rid of the Empress and take her place. The Chu Family didn’t even try to talk her out of it, despite the Empress being the only one they could truly rely on…

In fact, for many years, the only roles the scions of the Chu Family took on were teaching the princes in the Upper Study Room and serving as their companion readers.

However, as the Emperor’s reign lengthened, this began to change. In the early years, figures like Rong Xue Tao and Guo Ruikuo could still form factions and argue right under his nose. The Six Ministers would challenge the imperial will for their own benefit, offering suggestions while feigning obedience…

A decade or so later, everyone who attended the morning court was someone who simply bowed their head and obeyed orders.

If they had any temper left, it was only directed at outsiders.

Any officials who defied the Emperor were all sent to an early grave or forced to resign and retire.

It wasn’t that the Emperor was the type to kill indiscriminately or act so stubbornly as to tolerate no dissent—Prince Jin knew him well. It was simply that he had too much to accomplish over the years. If his officials were not of one mind with him, tasks would either not get done or be done poorly, dragging on endlessly, draining the National Treasury of its silver without yielding any benefits.

The Emperor also felt that his life was finite. He believed he had to accomplish as much as possible within his limited lifespan so as not to have lived in vain, and to leave a golden age for the Crown Prince.

He pacified the rebellious forces on the steppes one by one, formed a navy to launch expeditions against neighboring countries, and established waterways to accelerate trade. He improved sun-drying techniques for salt production, commissioned better farming tools, and optimized firearms. The Emperor demanded that every single policy be implemented without obstruction, with real-time feedback, ensuring that every inch of Yan Chi’s land would enjoy the benefits of progress and civilization!

With so much to do, he naturally couldn’t tolerate anyone holding him back.

Especially since the Emperor was so single-minded.

If these novel ideas had been proposed by the Emperor himself, no matter how unconventional, the officials could have rationalized them: ‘The Emperor is no ordinary man. He thinks differently than we do; there must be a reason for His Majesty’s ways…’

But the Emperor didn’t do that. He would clearly list which ideas were proposed by Consort Hao and perfected with his collaboration.

Many civil servants and military generals grumbled about this, feeling that even if the ideas truly came from Consort Hao, there was no reason to credit her by name.

Take, for example, a woman in a rural village who marries into a family and creates a new dish, like stinky tofu. When guests talk about it, they’ll call it “the stinky tofu from so-and-so’s house.” The “so-and-so” naturally refers to her husband’s family name, as if the woman had nothing to do with it. And even though she was the one who came up with the recipe, her maiden family wouldn’t see a shred of the credit.

A woman’s accomplishments belonged to her father before marriage and to her husband after.

Her own name was never attached to them.

Things had been this way for millennia, and no one saw a problem with it. Yet the Emperor, knowing full well this would make policy implementation more difficult, pushed forward against all opposition. Even Jiang Xian herself wasn’t bothered. ‘History will vindicate me a century from now,’ she thought. ‘Besides, many of my ideas were just things I proposed while standing on the shoulders of giants. It’s not like I’m any smarter than the people of ancient times.’

“I can’t control what happens a hundred years from now, and I can’t rest easy about it. So I’ll take care of what I can control right now.”

Since Xie Che’s mind was made up, Jiang Xian stopped trying to persuade him.

The Emperor’s civil and military accomplishments were exceptional, surpassing even those of the late Emperor. Other than his extraordinary affection for Consort Hao, the officials could find no fault in him. The people’s standard of living was visibly improving, and their loyalty was genuinely with the Royal Family. After he dealt with a flock of stubborn individuals who stuck their necks out, his decrees were implemented much more smoothly.

Few of the old aristocratic families who flaunted their seniority remained. Guo Ruikuo was also purged shortly after the fall of the Rong Family.

Xie Che only showed his easygoing side to those close to him. In front of his ministers, his imperial might remained deep and unfathomable. There were still some who grumbled about the Emperor’s respect for Consort Hao, claiming His Majesty was being autocratic.

Some ministers in the know felt the Emperor had brought this upon himself. If not for his insistence on elevating Consort Hao, he would have been a perfect emperor. They were all but hoping he would follow Li Longji’s example and kill his Yang Guifei, eager to “cleanse the sovereign’s side” themselves.

But the common people didn’t think that way.

Every time a new decree was issued, the people knew which benevolent policies had been proposed by Consort Hao.

The wives and daughters of commoners all worked in the fields; no one was idle. They didn’t think about it too much. All they knew was that Consort Hao was the one helping them live better lives. They were grateful for her benevolence, and some even erected shrines in her honor.

When people counted on their fingers, they realized that very few of the great aristocratic families had survived intact. The Chu Family was one of them. By that calculation, the Empress’s retreat had been remarkably timely, allowing her to escape the vortex of power to focus on her health and Buddhist devotion.

‘Alas, the Empress must be afraid of Consort Hao, whose favor is as brilliant as the midday sun. That’s why she continues to “convalesce” indefinitely!’

This was pure slander.

On several occasions, Xie Che, figuring the Empress’s illness should have healed, went to Jianzhang Palace to see her.

As soon as the imperial entourage arrived, he would see the Empress lying feebly on her couch, a cloth wrapped around her head, her face pale.

She would try to rise to greet him, but Xie Che would wave his hand, motioning for her to lie back down.

Xie Che said with alarm, “Summon Song Yuanzheng for me! How has the Empress’s convalescence reduced her to this state?”

Song Yuanzheng arrived, trembling, but could not diagnose any particular ailment. He only said that she needed quiet rest and prescribed some gentle, restorative tonics. Let her recover slowly, he suggested; perhaps one day, once her depleted constitution was fully restored, she would be able to leave her bed.

Quiet rest naturally meant she couldn’t worry about palace affairs.

Nor could she make any public appearances.

“You are to take meticulous care of the Empress. The medicinal herbs will come from my personal storehouses. Take whatever you need.”

“COUGH, COUGH, COUGH, COUGH…”

Lying down, the Empress thanked him, coughing as if she might breathe her last at any moment.

Xie Che’s heart wavered at the sight. He dropped the subject, saying only that she could reclaim her authority over the palace whenever she was fully recovered.

In all these years, the Empress had recovered only once.

It was when the navy was completed and Xie Che had just begun preparing for a southern inspection tour. Joyful news came from Jianzhang Palace that the Empress had made a full recovery, and she was adamant about accompanying him. So be it! With the Empress Dowager and Princess Consort Zhang holding down the fort in the harem, and the Crown Prince serving as regent, nothing could go wrong. Xie Che was relieved to see the Empress well again.

But as soon as they returned from the southern tour, just as Jiang Xian had organized all the palace affairs to deliver to Jianzhang Palace, she saw the Empress slowly lie back down again.

Jiang Xian: “…”

‘What am I supposed to do when my boss is this bad at faking sick leave? Asking for a friend, it’s urgent.’

—————–

Queen Chu was widely acknowledged to have a frail constitution.

But her “frailty” was a very considerate sort of illness. It never required a consultation with the Imperial Physicians; all she needed was a steady diet of nourishing tonics. The only thing was, every time she appeared at the Longevity Festival, the assembled noblewomen were shocked to discover that Queen Chu’s “convalescence” seemed to have made her face a little rounder.

She continued to “recover” from this illness until the day the Emperor abdicated in favor of the Crown Prince, Xie Zhao, and moved to Xihua Garden. Only the Empress and Consort Hao accompanied him. Noble Princess Consort Rong had originally been on the list, but she disliked the idea of so few people at Xihua Garden—there would be no Concubines for her to boss around. So she remained in the Imperial Palace. Her status was still lofty, allowing her to bully whomever she pleased, and she would only visit her two best friends at Xihua Garden during the peak of summer.

As for Queen Chu’s illness, after moving to Xihua Garden, it miraculously vanished without any medicine!

Seeing this medical miracle, what else was there for Xie Che not to understand?

The first thing he did was to handsomely reward the retired former Song Yuanzheng—

He had spent the better part of his life covering for the Empress’s feigned illness. That salary had not been easily earned.