Chapter 334
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Zhao Yu’s prestige had already been at its zenith; after completing the great unification and returning in triumph from a crushing defeat of the Jin, his reputation became unmatched among all emperors of the Song dynasty, and perhaps even surpassed that of Zhao Kuangyin, the founding emperor of the Song, in terms of prestige.
This refers to prestige, not contribution.
Zhao Kuangyin was the founding monarch of Great Song; without him, the Zhao family would never have ruled for two centuries. Like Liu Bang, who rose from a commoner, raised rebellion by slaying a serpent amid chaos, endured countless hardships, overthrew the tyrannical Qin, defeated Xiang Yu, and established the Han dynasty, laying the foundation for four centuries of Han glory.
For this reason alone, no matter how vast a territory Zhao Yu conquered or how many times he expanded the Song’s borders, his contribution to the Song could never rival Zhao Kuangyin’s—just as Liu Che, the mighty Han emperor who expanded territory and intimidated the Four Barbarians, raised Han’s prestige to unprecedented heights, yet could not match Liu Bang’s foundational role.
But then again.
Zhao Kuangyin seized the throne from the orphaned widow of the Chai family; though he reclaimed the fragmented regimes of Nanping, Wuping, Later Shu, Southern Han, and Southern Tang, he still faced political constraints during his reign—from the “heir-apparent” faction led by Zhao Guangyi, remnants of the Later Zhou court, powerful generals holding military command, and regional separatist holdouts.
Zhao Yu, by contrast, has achieved monumental military victories: reclaiming Qingtangcheng, reclaiming Xia, reclaiming Yan-Yun, and decisively defeating the Jin, complemented by fifteen years of domestic prosperity and civil governance, and he has crushed every political faction that threatened him.
In sheer prestige alone, Zhao Kuangyin should be inferior to Zhao Yu.
Otherwise, Zhao Kuangyin could not have failed even to relocate the capital, whereas Zhao Yu, merely by issuing an edict while absent from court, caused the Song to prepare for a new capital.
Just how high is Zhao Yu’s prestige right now?
Put it this way: even if he now wished to take his two sister-in-laws, Empress Meng Xiang and Liu Qingjing, as his imperial consorts, he could still accomplish it—worst case, he’d face moral condemnation, perhaps compared to Li Shimin’s marriage to his brother’s widow Yang after the Xuanwu Gate Incident.
Of course, Zhao Yu still values his reputation; unless absolutely necessary, he truly does not wish to bear such a stain.
Moreover, Zhao Yu isn’t even afraid of such a stain—did Qin Shi Huang, Han Wu Di, Tang Taizong, or Song Taizu lack flaws? Who among them was morally flawless?
In fact, all this is because there is one matter Zhao Yu has concealed for over a decade, and it is now at risk of exposure.
Here is how it happened.
The first thing Zhao Yu did upon returning in triumph was to perform the ancestral temple offering.
This was the most essential ceremony required after a great victory.
That is, Zhao Yu went to the Taimiao (the ancestral temple housing the imperial ancestors), and through sacrifices and recitation of sacrificial texts, he detailed the course and results of the war—including captives and spoils—to his forebears, thanking them for their protection.
The ancestral temple offering was a ritual mandatory for emperors during major events (such as accession, great victories, or imperial succession), embodying the principle of “revering Heaven and honoring ancestors.”
Additionally, important war spoils—such as enemy banners, weapons, and captives—were displayed before the ancestral temple as tangible proof of victory, further glorifying martial achievements before the ancestors.
The Song dynasty always placed supreme importance on ritual; the procedures, offerings, and formats of sacrificial texts for ancestral rites were strictly regulated, and the post-victory temple offering followed texts like the Tai Chang Yin Ge Li, maintaining solemnity while reinforcing imperial authority and clan cohesion.
The emperor’s most vital duties were “sacrifice” and “governance.”
Sacrifice embodied the emperor’s legitimacy as “mandated by Heaven”; through offerings to Heaven and ancestors, it affirmed the emperor’s connection to Heaven and the ancestral spirits—the core responsibility on the spiritual plane.
Governance, meanwhile, was the emperor’s concrete exercise of secular rule: formulating state policy, managing officials, pacifying the people, and maintaining territorial stability—the core responsibility on the political plane.
These two duties complemented each other, forming the dual core mission of the emperor: “divine right to rule” and “administration of the realm,” especially in the ritual-conscious Song dynasty, where sacrifice and governance were indispensable twin pillars of imperial duty.
Thus, even Zhao Yu could not afford to neglect this matter in the slightest.
So, upon his return, Zhao Yu held a grand ancestral temple ceremony and displayed over a thousand captives—including Empress Qinxian of Wanyan Aguda, Huoshilie Shi—before the ancestral shrine.
Of course, these women were now Zhao Yu’s own; he certainly did not subject them to degrading rituals like the “leading sheep” ceremony.
Empress Qinxian of Wanyan Aguda and the other captured Jin women were merely paraded as a formality; Zhao Yu then allowed them to return to the inner palace.
Zhao Yu was not concerned with that.
What mattered was that during the temple offering, Empress Meng Xiang, widow of Zhao Xu, and Empress Liu Qingjing, widow of Zhao Xu, both appeared.
During the ceremony, Liu Qingjing subtly gave Zhao Yu a glance.
Zhao Yu knew she was signaling him to visit her.
But this woman had already caused him considerable trouble; he truly did not wish to deal with her, so he pretended not to see her.
When Zhao Yu returned to the palace that night, a stunning young woman blocked his path.
This woman, with her 170cm slender frame and classical Eastern bone structure, set the upper limit of beauty in Zhao Yu’s harem—her face combined the empty-space elegance of court lady paintings with the refined craftsmanship of porcelain: a standard oval face, phoenix eyes like lapis, a camel-hump nose that broke softness with vigor, and petal lips with a subtle upturn, carrying the lingering brushwork of a thousand-year ink painting.
Put simply, her beauty could certainly rank among the top three in Zhao Yu’s harem—and was certainly not third.
She was Liu Shi, the fourth empress of Zhao Ji in history, better known as “Little Consort Liu.”
—In history, Consort Mingjie and Great Consort Liu—Zhao Yu’s virtuous consort Liu Mingda—were known as the “Great and Little Consort Lius.” Another account claimed they outshone all other women in Zhao Ji’s harem.
Liu Mingjie came from a commoner family; at age ten, she was selected in a beauty contest and entered the palace to serve Liu Qingjing, becoming Liu Qingjing’s meticulously trained personal maid, later adopted as her daughter.
—In history, after Liu Qingjing was ordered to die by Zhao Ji, all her maids were released, but Liu Mingjie refused to return to her impoverished home; she lodged with a eunuch surnamed He, waiting for opportunity. Later, the chief eunuch Yang Jian, impressed by her beauty, recommended her to Zhao Ji. Zhao Ji immediately took a liking to her and made her a Cairen. Liu Mingjie was not only beautiful but also intelligent, perceptive, and skillful. She excelled in cooking, often preparing small dishes herself for Zhao Ji. She could tailor garments with novel designs, which were imitated throughout the palace and beyond. She gradually rose to the rank of Shufei. The Daoist priest Lin Lingsu, seeing her favor, flattered her by calling her “Nine Splendors Jade True An Consort.”
Originally, Liu Qingjing had intended to train Liu Mingjie to win Zhao Xu’s heart, to counter challenges from other women in Zhao Xu’s harem.
But before Liu Mingjie could mature, Zhao Xu died, never getting to enjoy this peerless beauty.
After Zhao Xu’s death, Zhao Yu inherited the throne.
Simultaneously, Zhao Yu inherited all the palace women Zhao Xu had never touched.
But this did not include two groups.
One group: the maids serving Empress Meng Xiang; the other: the maids serving Liu Qingjing.
Thus, Liu Mingjie was not Zhao Yu’s woman; she remained serving Liu Qingjing in Chong’en Palace.
At that time, Zhao Yu had no shortage of women—well… truthfully, Zhao Yu had never lacked women.
Zhao Yu certainly had no memory of Liu Mingjie.
Logically, Zhao Yu and Liu Mingjie might have had no further contact.
But Zhao Yu avoided Liu Mingjie, while Liu Mingjie came to seek Zhao Yu.
It was fourteen years ago.
On that day, Zhao Yu had just returned from court.
Passing through the imperial garden, his peripheral vision suddenly caught sight of a palace maid of unearthly beauty.
The beauty was naturally Liu Mingjie.
Though Zhao Yu had not even seen her full face, based on his vast experience with women, he was certain Liu Mingjie was a beauty.
More importantly, the sudden encounter with such an otherworldly beauty stirred his desire.
So Zhao Yu followed her.
Liu Mingjie led Zhao Yu on a winding path to a secluded palace Zhao Yu had never visited before.
End of Chapter
