Chapter 109: Palace Examination

…

After chatting for a while and sharing a hot pot of lamb, Li Lin, Ye Shi Yun, Ma Xiao Jiao, and Yuan Qing Cheng each departed.

After the four women left, Zhang Chun picked up her book again.

Zhang Chun desperately wanted to win this Palace Examination not merely because victory would grant her a son with Zhao Yu, but because it would prove her knowledge, talent, and abilities truly surpassed those of Zhao Yu’s other women—and it symbolized the recognition of her efforts and brilliance.

In her youth, Zhang Chun had read the examination paper of Zhuangyuan Zhao Bingzhong, a text of over two thousand four hundred characters with not a single correction, its calligraphy indistinguishable from printed type.

Even an ordinary person copying it by hand could never replicate such perfection.

Thus, the imperial examination path was extremely difficult.

If one’s luck was bad and one faced a group of formidable rivals, the difficulty became hellish.

For instance, the imperial examination of the Jiayou Second Year of the Northern Song.

That cohort was called the “Millennium Dragon-Tiger List.”

That year, over four hundred thousand candidates applied, yet fewer than four hundred were admitted.

Among those four hundred were three of the Eight Great Prose Masters of the Tang and Song: Su Shi, Su Zhe, and Zeng Gong; the founders of Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism, Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi; Zhang Zai, the thinker who declared, “To establish the heart of Heaven and Earth, to secure the livelihood of the people, to continue the lost learning of the sages, and to open peace for ten thousand generations”; and Wang Shao, a scholar who gained fame in history through military merit as the “Three Marvels Deputy Envoy.”

Also among them were Zhang Dun, Ceng Bu, and Lu Huiqing.

Yet not one of these towering historical figures placed in the top three.

This reveals just how difficult the imperial examination path truly was.

If this had been a real imperial examination, even Zhang Chun, proud as she was, would never have dared to attempt it—her literary talent was unlikely to even earn her the rank of Jinshi, let alone the top honor of Zhuangyuan.

But having crossed into an era where one could take the examination, as a scholar, failing to participate and secure a respectable rank would leave her with regret.

Yet, to Zhang Chun’s dismay, as a woman in this patriarchal age, she could never overcome this regret—even as a transmigrator.

Thus, winning the Palace Examination became Zhang Chun’s only way to soothe herself.

…

On this day, after Zhao Yu concluded his meeting with the chancellors, as he rose to return to the inner palace, Su Shi suddenly called out to stop him: “Your Majesty, please wait.”

Zhao Yu halted and asked, “Minister, do you have further business to report?”

At this, Zhang Dun and the other chancellors paused their departure, eager to see what Su Shi would say to Zhao Yu.

No one noticed Su Zhe, who smiled bitterly, thinking, “My dear elder brother, couldn’t you wait until others had left before privately petitioning this matter?”

“One of my disciples is a pair of exceptionally talented women,” Su Shi said bluntly. “Having heard of Your Majesty’s Palace Examination, they long to witness it—and if permitted to participate, they would be overjoyed. May Your Majesty grant their request?”

Zhao Yu was stunned! He had not expected Su Shi to stop him merely to request two slots for the Palace Examination.

In Zhao Yu’s view, this so-called Palace Examination was merely the Empress’s way of giving the palace women something trivial to do, to keep them from wasting their energy on scheming for favor.

If so, what harm could Su Shi’s request possibly be?

Without hesitation, Zhao Yu agreed: “Have them both enter the palace on that day.”

Ceng Bu reacted fastest, immediately adding: “My younger sister’s daughter possesses the grace of my wife in her youth. I humbly beg Your Majesty to permit her to take part as well.”

Ceng Bu’s wife, Wei Wan (also known as Lady Wei), was a renowned female poet of this era; up to this point, her fame surpassed even that of Li Qingzhao.

Historically, Zhu Xi had written in the “Zhu Zi Yulei”: “Among our dynasty’s women who could write, only Li Yian and Lady Wei.” This attests to her stature in the literary world.

Whether or not Ceng Bu’s claim that his niece resembled Lady Wei in her youth was true, she must have possessed some talent.

How could Zhao Yu permit Su Shi’s disciples to join the Palace Examination and deny Ceng Bu’s niece?

Thus, Zhao Yu agreed again: “Also permitted.”

Everyone here is a thousand-year-old fox—what’s the point of playing ghost stories?

Su Shi and Ceng Bu clearly sought to use this opportunity to present women to Zhao Yu, hoping to install a concubine in the inner palace who would support their faction, just as the New Party had once backed Liu Qingjing.

Cai Jing followed closely: “My daughter has studied poetry and prose for several years. I humbly request she be permitted to take part as well.”

At Cai Jing’s turn, the pretense vanished—he openly recommended his own daughter.

Only then did Zhao Yu realize: they weren’t sending women to participate in the Palace Examination—they were using it as an excuse to slip women into his harem.

Earlier, trusting Su Shi’s character and seeing him announce this publicly without apparent self-interest, Zhao Yu had let his guard down, allowing Su Shi to easily breach his defenses.

Then, taking advantage of Zhao Yu’s momentary distraction, Ceng Bu slipped in as well.

As Emperor, Zhao Yu’s word was sacred—he could not go back on his promise.

But accepting these women meant the fire of factional strife might burn into his own inner palace.

Worse still, Cai Jing spoke again, and several other chancellors were also stirring.

Zhao Yu, suddenly enlightened, said: “More people mean more liveliness. Each of you may send one woman to compete.”

‘By giving everyone a chance, I’ve given no one a real chance—and I’ve kept things perfectly balanced. I’m truly brilliant.’

The chancellors could not miss Zhao Yu’s intent—but some of them still smiled faintly, clearly harboring their own plans…

…

The day of the Palace Examination.

As dawn broke, Li Qingzhao arrived at the palace in a carriage, accompanied by her maid, Cuiyu.

Along the way, her eyes sparkled with anticipation and confidence; her mind replayed scenes of herself excelling in the examination hall.

Meanwhile, Cai Xuan, Cai Jing’s only daughter, sat in a small sedan chair en route to the palace, her expression haughty and self-assured, determined to claim first place, bring glory to the Cai family, and win Zhao Yu’s favor as their ally in the inner palace.

Wei Zhi, Wei Wan’s niece, also rode in a sedan chair toward the palace.

Wei Zhi’s thoughts were filled with the words of her uncle Ceng Bu before her departure: “Zhi’er, remember: in this Palace Examination, rank is unimportant. You must display grace, dignity, and elegance, and leave the Emperor with a favorable impression. If you can capture his attention, you will be a great benefactor to both the Ceng and Wei families…”

At the palace gate, Li Qingzhao saw Chao Min arriving with her.

Chao Min was the only daughter of Chao Buzhi, raised in a literary household, skilled in poetry and verse. Her style was fresh and natural, her emotions sincere. Many of her works circulated among literati of the time and earned admiration. She and Li Qingzhao were known as the “Two Beauties of Su’s School.”

Earlier, Su Shi had intended to recommend two of his disciples: Li Qingzhao and Chao Min. The latter was added later by Su Zhe, just in case. After all, Li Qingzhao’s beauty was merely average among beauties, whereas Chao Min was not only brilliant but a true beauty.

Li Qingzhao and Chao Min were old friends and confidantes.

Upon meeting, both exclaimed in surprise: “You’re here too?!”

Seeing the crowd around them, Chao Min pulled Li Qingzhao aside and sighed: “I never expected you’d be entering the palace!”

“What do you mean, entering the palace?” Li Qingzhao didn’t understand.

“You don’t know?” Chao Min was astonished.

“Know what?” Li Qingzhao was baffled.

“Our Yuanyou faction is in dire straits—we need powerful allies in the inner palace, or the consequences will be catastrophic. That’s why we must send a woman to gain the Emperor’s favor, just as Empress Yuanfu once did.” Chao Min said.

Li Qingzhao understood. She quickly confirmed: “So you mean—we’re not here to exchange poetry and literature, but to compete for the Emperor’s favor as concubines?”

“Why else would every family send a daughter of both talent and beauty?” Chao Min said, her voice heavy with worry. “Our Yuanyou faction and the Yuanfeng faction are now irreconcilable. If we lose again, another Shaozheng purge may come. Rumors say Cai the Villain intends to erect a stele listing Yuanyou faction members: living officials will be demoted and exiled; deceased ones stripped of titles and honors; and their descendants barred from the capital and from taking the imperial examination. We cannot afford to lose this contest.”

Li Qingzhao was utterly bewildered: “What does any of this have to do with the Palace Examination?”

Seeing Li Qingzhao wasn’t pretending, Chao Min asked: “Has your father told you nothing?”

Li Qingzhao replied honestly: “I begged my master for this chance. My father doesn’t even know I’m here. I came only to test myself against the palace ladies and the great women of our time—nothing more.”

Chao Min, disappointed, said: “I thought I’d have you as company in the palace, that I wouldn’t be so lonely—but it seems I was foolishly hopeful.”

Then Chao Min helped Li Qingzhao analyze: “Perhaps your master truly dotes on you and sent you here just to play. You needn’t worry like we do—after the Palace Examination, most of us will be kept in the inner palace.”

Li Qingzhao glanced at the other women arriving for the examination—each stunning in her own way, whether plump or slender, each exquisite. Compared to them, her own beauty seemed lacking.

Seeing this, Chao Min’s words seemed likely true.

Li Qingzhao exhaled in relief, patting her chest: “I nearly died—I thought I’d somehow become an imperial consort by accident.”

Chao Min laughed: “You dream too big. Becoming an imperial consort isn’t that easy.”

Here, Chao Min nodded toward Cai Xuan: “That’s Cai the Villain’s only daughter—beautiful and talented. With her father’s current favor, she might become an imperial consort outright. That quiet one over there? Even more powerful—she’s the granddaughter of Chancellor Zhang Dun. That’s Han Yu, granddaughter of Vice Chancellor Han Zhongyan…”

After Chao Min introduced all the women competing alongside them, Li Qingzhao couldn’t help but be stunned. Though few in number, their backgrounds were extraordinary—each carried the influence of a chancellor or higher. Only she and Chao Min lacked such pedigree.

At the same time, Li Qingzhao felt puzzled.

In this era, official families rarely wished their daughters to enter the palace as concubines.

The palace was filled with rigid rules, strict restrictions on speech and conduct—difficult for daughters accustomed to relative freedom. Court intrigues were brutal; concubines were often dragged into political storms. One misstep, one wrong alliance, and not only would they perish, but their families might be ruined. Moreover, once inside, contact with family became rare, making filial duty and family joy nearly impossible.

Thus, some official families used excuses—illness, prearranged betrothals—to avoid sending their daughters to court.

For example, during Emperor Renzong’s reign, Fu Bi had refused to send his daughter to the palace.

Why, then, under Zhao Yu, were all these chancellors rushing to offer their daughters?

Li Qingzhao couldn’t understand.

Li Qingzhao didn’t realize this was no longer the era of Emperor Renzong, when ministers controlled the throne.

Since Emperor Shenzong’s reign, due to reforms and factional strife, imperial power had grown ever stronger.

Now, at this critical juncture between the New and Old Parties, both sides would spare no effort to avoid defeat.

—These politically astute chancellors had already sensed: if they lost this round, the consequences would dwarf all previous defeats.

Thus, these chancellors were truly desperate, sending their finest daughters to fight for power, terrified they’d become the next victims of political collapse.

Li Qingzhao, who spent her days in leisure and bliss, understood none of this.

When the time came, Li Qingzhao and Chao Min joined the other dozen women entering the palace.

While others were anxious, Li Qingzhao wandered like a tourist, glancing here and there, clearly fascinated by the palace.

Soon, Li Qingzhao’s group entered the inner palace and met Empress Zheng Xiansu.

Hidden among the crowd, Li Qingzhao stole a glance at Zheng Xiansu and found her dignified, graceful, and approachable—no airs at all. ‘She must be easy to get along with.’

Li Qingzhao looked around again. ‘Where’s that little emperor?’

Even as the Palace Examination was about to begin, Li Qingzhao still hadn’t found Zhao Yu.

Though Zhao Yu saw this as merely a trivial amusement for his palace women, Zheng Xiansu and the contestants did not.

Under Zheng Xiansu’s direction, this Palace Examination was fully organized by the Ministry of Rites, following the exact format of the imperial examination—even the candidates’ numbers were drawn by lottery.

Unsurprisingly, Li Qingzhao and Chao Min were separated.

Soon, Li Qingzhao found her place.

Before her sat an imperial consort, slender and tall, with skin as white and smooth as jade.

Li Qingzhao bowed to the imperial consort: “Your servant, Lady Li, pays homage to Your Majesty.”

Zhang Chun turned and glanced at Li Qingzhao; though the girl was not exceptionally beautiful, she radiated charm and grace, so Zhang Chun smiled and said, “Rise, please. I’ve never seen you before—what is your name?”

……

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(End of chapter)