Chapter 34: Concubine

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Upon hearing Zheng Xiansu’s notice that she would be going to the Shen Prince’s Mansion with Zhao Yu, Ma Xiao Jiao hurried back to her quarters to pack.

As for Cide Palace, Ma Xiao Jiao felt not the slightest attachment.

Only after becoming a palace maid did Ma Xiao Jiao realize how hard palace maids’ lives truly were—especially the lowest-ranking labor maids.

Zhang Chun, Li Lin, Ye Shi Yun, Ma Xiao Jiao, and Yuan Qing Cheng were crammed into a tiny room of less than fifteen square meters.

The room contained nothing but a large communal sleeping platform and a cooking stove, with not an inch of extra space.

Worse still, they had to cook their own meals.

In this sweltering summer, the heat from cooking lingered for hours; after every meal, their room turned into an oven, unbearable in its swelter.

Their food was also extremely poor.

Most of the time, they ate only coarse rice or rough grains; even a steamed bun counted as a luxury.

Vegetables consisted of radishes, shepherd’s purse, cabbage, beans, and gourds.

Meat was rare, granted only on special occasions.

Seasonings were limited to salt, soy sauce, and vinegar; even Yuan Qing Cheng’s exceptional culinary skills had no room to shine.

In short, their daily meals were bland and tasteless.

Only during palace banquets could they receive a small share of leftover delicacies.

On special days, such as festivals, they might be granted a few pastries or fruits.

This was already their best possible fare.

In short, palace maids’ diets were slightly better than those of the destitute, far worse than urban commoners’, and prioritized fullness over flavor.

To be honest, they were already far better off than other labor maids, for Zheng Xiansu and Wang Yisu treated them specially—they did lighter work, and whenever leftovers, pastries, or fruits were distributed, they always received extra portions.

Yet even so, accustomed to comfort, they found this harsh life unbearable.

Most crucially, they had no freedom. Wherever they went, they had to submit reports—even a simple visit to an adjacent palace required approval all the way up to the Empress Dowager; only with her consent could they go, and they had to state precisely when they left, when they returned, and why.

Thus, leaving Cide Palace to live with Zhao Yu felt to Ma Xiao Jiao like true liberation.

There was little to pack—only the sketches Ma Xiao Jiao had drawn in her spare time needed taking; everything else was broken and worn, and she planned to leave it all behind, hoping Zhao Yu would buy her new, better things once they reached the Shen Prince’s Mansion.

As Ma Xiao Jiao was packing her sketches, Zhang Chun came over.

While helping Ma Xiao Jiao pack, Zhang Chun asked: “Xiao Jiao, do you know what your greatest task on this journey is?”

“To help Zhao Yu build a glass factory so he can earn more money—otherwise, when Zhao Yu becomes emperor, he’ll be crippled by an empty treasury, unable to accomplish anything, unable to centralize power quickly, missing countless opportunities, and possibly repeating Zhao Ji’s half-baked reforms: outwardly strong but inwardly hollow, riddled with hidden dangers. You’ve said this so many times, my ears are calloused.”

But Zhang Chun replied: “I didn’t mean that. I mean something far more important.”

Ma Xiao Jiao froze: “Something more important?”

“Xiao Jiao, among us, I’m closest to you, so I must make this clear—so you don’t stray down the wrong path,” Zhang Chun said solemnly.

“What is it?” Seeing Zhang Chun so serious, Ma Xiao Jiao’s heart tightened.

“Sigh!”

Zhang Chun sighed deeply, her voice tinged with sorrow and helplessness: “In this era, shaped by social norms and lacking modern moral or legal constraints, men’s innate lust drives them to take as many concubines as they can when they have the power and opportunity—just like Zhao Yu, who at only sixteen already has three betrothed brides.”

Ma Xiao Jiao dismissed it: “Isn’t polygamy normal for ancient men?”

“Those ignorant of history call this marriage polygamy, but that’s inaccurate. This era’s marriage should be called ‘one wife, multiple concubines’ or ‘wife and concubines coexisting,’” Zhang Chun corrected.

“What’s the difference?” Ma Xiao Jiao asked.

“In this era, whether noble or commoner, all must strictly follow ritual law: a wife must be formally betrothed and wed; a concubine, however, can be acquired through multiple means—buying, for instance, or the very path you’re on now.”

“Some concubines must satisfy their master’s desires while also performing heavy labor like servants; once the master grows tired, they may be resold, treated as tools to turn profit.”

“Many who pride themselves on being generous treat concubines as gifts to be given away at will; seekers of immortality treat them as ingredients to be concocted; the wealthy who compete in extravagance treat them as outlets for rage, killing them at will; those obsessed with eternal privilege treat them as sacrificial offerings, even in the afterlife. In short, some in this era mistake depravity for elegance, harbor grotesque perversions, and regard concubines as livestock.”

“Moreover, in this era, if a husband harms a concubine and no one reports it, there will be no punishment. Even if reported, whether it’s deemed a crime is uncertain; even if ruled a crime, the husband’s status allows him to receive a reduced sentence, while the concubine, for daring to accuse her husband, will be socially condemned and face an even harder life.”

Ma Xiao Jiao began to understand what Zhang Chun was getting at.

No.

She understood now—what her next status would be.

Clinging to a sliver of hope, Ma Xiao Jiao confirmed with Zhang Chun: “You mean… I’m to become Zhao Yu’s concubine?”

Zhang Chun shook her head: “You’ll become Zhao Yu’s concubine only if he takes a liking to you—then perhaps a consort. Otherwise, you’ll be sent back to your original status: a palace maid, even a labor maid like when we first arrived.”

Only then did Ma Xiao Jiao realize: going to Zhao Yu wasn’t about becoming his technology advisor—it might simply mean switching one place to remain a palace maid.

“Didn’t you say that as a teaching maid, the worst you could get was a female official position?” Ma Xiao Jiao challenged Zhang Chun.

“Only after you’ve slept with Zhao Yu. The question is—will you sleep with Zhao Yu?” Zhang Chun retorted.

Only now did Ma Xiao Jiao realize: the path she was on wasn’t just leaving Cide Palace—it led straight to Zhao Yu’s bed.

“Zhao Yu is about to marry Zheng Yaban and Wang Yaban, and also Guo Ting—he’ll have three wives already. How can I be with him?” Ma Xiao Jiao said, agitated.

“Choose: continue as a palace maid, even return to the life of a labor maid, or seize this chance for a better future. This is your life—no one can decide for you.”

“But as your friend, I must tell you—if it were me, I’d never let this opportunity slip away.”

“And if you make the same choice, you must know certain precautions.”

“To men of this era, abusing or killing concubines is a private household matter—they have the right to punish their concubines as they please. Some enjoy throwing concubines into rivers and watching them struggle to drown; others lock concubines with dogs in cages and play a version of death games…”

“Stop!!” Ma Xiao Jiao shouted.

Seeing Ma Xiao Jiao frightened, Zhang Chun realized she’d gone too far—she must pull back, lest Ma Xiao Jiao truly choose to remain a maid.

“Actually, what I said is only the dark side of this era. Didn’t we have abusive husbands in our last life too? Overall, good people still outnumber the bad.”

Hearing this, Ma Xiao Jiao felt somewhat better.

After calming down, Ma Xiao Jiao looked at Zhang Chun and asked bluntly: “What exactly are you trying to say?”

Sensing the moment was right, Zhang Chun revealed her true intent:

“In this era, women depend on men. Their happiness depends entirely on which man they follow—even a wife’s later-life fortune is decided by the man she marries. How much more so for concubines, defined by society as lower in status?”

“I’ve observed Zhao Yu—he’s strikingly handsome, emotionally stable, decisive, loyal to those who serve him, and doesn’t care about birth. He’s a rare haven.”

Ma Xiao Jiao understood Zhang Chun’s meaning. She asked incredulously: “You want me to really be with Zhao Yu? Become one of his many wives and concubines?”

“Not just that.”

“A concubine’s status can rise from low to high, from despised to honored—especially once Zhao Yu becomes emperor.”

“And a concubine’s status depends largely on how much she’s favored, how highly she’s regarded in her husband’s heart…”

Before Zhang Chun finished, Ma Xiao Jiao interrupted urgently: “You mean I not only have to become Zhao Yu’s concubine—I have to compete with his other wives and concubines for his favor?”

“I know you’re not that kind of person, and you hate doing such things.”

“But feudal rituals have long indoctrinated women to be non-jealous, tolerant, and harmonious with their husband’s other women—considered virtuous female traits. Many men fantasize about a harem of beauties, all harmoniously yielding to one another, taking turns to serve him, so he can bask in gentle, obedient pleasures. But in truth, this is merely men’s delusion. As long as wives and concubines coexist, they will inevitably scheme, compete, and destroy each other for their husband’s favor.”

“In the imperial court, this is even worse.”

Here, Zhang Chun switched to a sincere tone with Ma Xiao Jiao:

“I tell you this not to urge you to compete with Zhao Yu’s other wives and concubines—you’re not suited for such things—but to warn you: even if a man and woman share affection and understanding, tying your entire fate to one person is ultimately uncontrollable and profoundly tragic!”

“And even if your relationship with your husband is excellent, a concubine remains subject to his will; any sudden conflict or problem could utterly transform her survival.”

“A disgraced mistress is less than a favored servant—if a concubine loses favor, even her maids will bully her; worse, she may be beaten to death.”

“And humans, after all, are human—inevitably fickle, prone to growing tired of what they once cherished.”

“So, Xiao Jiao, if you’re wise and wish to avoid future regret, you must do everything possible to make Zhao Yu fall for you—and seize every chance to bear his child. Only by giving him as many children as possible—especially sons—can you guarantee your quality of life in this era…”

…

(End of Chapter)