Chapter 13: The First Intimate Contact

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“Empress Dowager Chun?!”

At the same moment Zhang Chun saw Zhao Yu, Zhao Yu saw Zhang Chun.

When writing his historical novel, Zhao Yu often searched online for materials, and over time he came across Zhang Chun’s videos.

To be honest, Zhao Yu got hooked because Zhang Chun’s skin was as white as jade, her features stunningly beautiful, and her demeanor elegant.

After watching Zhang Chun’s historical lecture videos, Zhao Yu, who also studied history, had to admit that she understood history far better than he did—especially the minute details, which she knew like the back of her hand; she could recite the exact dates of historical events without a single error, and she could analyze the political factors within those events with remarkable insight.

Because of this, Zhao Yu had watched every one of Zhang Chun’s lectures on the Northern and Southern Song periods, and even borrowed many of her theories and conclusions for his novel.

Notably, whenever Zhang Chun spoke about powerful Empress Dowagers in history, her eyes sparkled, and her words brimmed with admiration and longing for them—hence some of her fans called her “Empress Dowager Chun.”

Seeing Zhang Chun again, Zhao Yu was now virtually certain that Zhang Chun, Li Lin, Ye Shi Yun, Ma Xiao Jiao, and Yuan Qing Cheng had all been transported here.

One of Zhao Yu’s purposes in coming to Cide Palace was to test whether Ma Xiao Jiao and Yuan Qing Cheng were truly transmigrants, and to see if Zhang Chun, Li Lin, and Ye Shi Yun had also come over.

Ma Xiao Jiao was an inventor, possessing vast knowledge of physics and chemistry, and she had exceptional hands-on ability; if she had truly been transported, and Zhao Yu could secure her and use her wisely, he could dramatically boost the productivity of this era—and even enable the Song Army to wield advanced firearms centuries ahead of schedule.

As for Yuan Qing Cheng, the agricultural scientist, it goes without saying: if she had also been transported, and Zhao Yu could secure her, she could develop high-yield hybrid rice, greatly stabilizing Zhao Yu’s rule, and she could also introduce fruits and vegetables unknown in this era, enriching its culinary culture.

Li Lin, who excelled in military affairs, and Ye Shi Yun, who mastered economics, were both immensely useful.

Even Zhang Chun, whose skills overlapped with Zhao Yu’s, could help him fill gaps and offer strategic advice.

In short, if these five women had all been transported, they were essentially Zhao Yu’s golden finger.

How could Zhao Yu possibly not value them?

Yet Zhao Yu was still unsure whether they were truly transmigrants—or merely looked alike.

After instructing the gate eunuch Pei Yanchen to announce his arrival, Zhao Yu, while pondering how to verify whether the five women were transmigrants, had Liang Shicheng distribute Guanghan Workshop’s osmanthus cakes and Li’s candied fruits to the palace maids and young eunuchs.

These two treats were not expensive, but hard to obtain within the palace, especially for low-ranking maids and young eunuchs.

While Pei Yanchen went to announce him, Zhao Yu chatted casually with the maids and young eunuchs—asking about their surnames, duties, hometowns, family size, and how they managed living alone in the palace.

After hearing their answers, Zhao Yu said: “Poor children—you entered the palace at ten or eleven to serve the Empress Dowager. Work hard, and if opportunity arises, I shall speak well of you before Her Majesty.”

Whether Zhao Yu’s words were sincere or not, a prince of such high status bringing them snacks they hadn’t tasted in ages, and speaking to them so kindly—how could any of them not feel grateful?

The key is: without comparison, there is no harm.

Other princes also come to pay respects to the Empress Dowager, but they never even glance at these maids and young eunuchs; if they do look, it’s like Zhao Ji—only casting a few lingering eyes on particularly beautiful maids like Li Lin, perhaps uttering a few light, teasing remarks to those they favored, but never bringing them snacks or chatting with them as Zhao Yu did.

Thus, many young eunuchs surrounded Zhao Yu, showering him with thanks and gratitude; some older maids blushed, their eyes shimmering with admiration as they gazed at Zhao Yu.

Zhang Chun could never be so easily infatuated, but she understood clearly: politics is human nature; those in power who know how to perform and win hearts will gain support and hold their positions firmly.

From this perspective, Zhao Yu was undoubtedly suited to be emperor.

Zhang Chun thought: “Using wealth to win hearts usually earns good reputation; he has the patience to play his part—why doesn’t he compete with Zhao Ji for the throne? Is it because he lacks political backing? Or does the Empress Dowager prefer Zhao Ji, a man of golden exterior and rotten core? Or does he have no ambition to be emperor?”

Though she couldn’t fathom why historical records made no mention of Zhao Yu competing with Zhao Ji for the throne, based on what she had seen and heard so far, Zhao Yu was clearly a man suited to be emperor.

Zhang Chun longed to speak deeply with Zhao Yu, to further judge whether he was fit to replace Zhao Ji.

But Zhang Chun had always been too shy to initiate conversation with Zhao Yu, and now, surrounded by maids and young eunuchs, she had no idea how to approach him.

At the same time, Zhang Chun knew well: this was the imperial palace, and they five were the lowest-ranking maids; meeting Zhao Yu once was already exceedingly difficult, and this encounter was pure luck—opportunity lost would never return. No matter how hard, she must speak to him. Otherwise, when she returned, she could not face Li Lin and the other four.

In truth, Zhao Yu had patiently chatted with the maids and young eunuchs partly to subtly probe Zhang Chun.

Yet Zhang Chun had remained on the periphery, too hesitant to approach, and Zhao Yu dared not draw attention—thus wasting the opportunity he had deliberately created.

Before arriving, Zhao Yu had already decided: even if he confirmed that these five women were transmigrants, he must keep his own identity a secret from them—this was his greatest secret; the more people who knew, the greater the risk. If some ambitious soul learned he could “foresee the future,” he might be captured, tortured, and forced to reveal what they desired.

“Forget it. As long as I become emperor, these five will become my concubines—then, won’t it be easy to find out whether they’re transmigrants?”

Soon, Pei Yanchen returned.

Zhao Yu smiled at the maids and young eunuchs, then walked toward Pei Yanchen.

Seeing Zhao Yu about to leave, Zhang Chun had no time to think—she forgot her reserve and composure, stepped forward in three strides, and whispered to Zhao Yu: "Wu Man gathers the imperial light; the court's decree now shifts. Months bring great succession; the dynasty begins anew."

As she finished, Zhang Chun slipped the method of soap-making into Zhao Yu’s hand.

The instant her small hand touched Zhao Yu’s large one, her face flushed crimson.

It felt to her as if she were handing a love letter to a boy.

Embarrassed, her heart leapt to her throat!

Though she had spoken only vaguely, her words clearly foretold that “Zhao Yu” would soon become emperor—something so treasonous in this era.

To put it plainly: if investigated, these words could convict her of rebellion, warranting execution of her entire family, or at minimum, the men sent to exile three thousand li, and the women consigned to the courtesan quarters.

To be honest, though forced by circumstance, Zhang Chun still felt regret.

“Should I have waited longer—or thought of a safer way to say it?”

“But time waits for no one; opportunity slips away. Only by taking the risk could I not miss this chance?”

“I’m still only at the stage of theoretical talk—politically and practically, I’m still immature. Sigh!”

As Zhang Chun sweated profusely and inwardly cursed herself, Zhao Yu calmly slipped her “letter” into his sleeve and continued walking toward Pei Yanchen.

Pei Yanchen stepped forward: “The Empress Dowager asks His Highness to wait briefly in the front hall.”

Zhao Yu smiled: “Good.” Then followed Pei Yanchen into Cide Palace, as if nothing had happened between him and Zhang Chun.

Seeing this, Zhang Chun felt as if released from a death sentence.

After a moment, Zhang Chun watched Zhao Yu’s back, a faint smile curling at her lips: “Now I’m certain of two things: one, you’re composed—you’re a man who does great things; two, you’ve always harbored ambition to be emperor…”

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(End of Chapter)