Chapter 87: Zhao Yu: Who Can Control Me?

…

“Criminal woman Chongzhen pays homage to Your Majesty.”

Zhang Chun’s first impression of Meng Xiang was that she was dignified, composed, and grand, courteous yet neither humble nor arrogant; even facing this new emperor—the man who held her fate in his hands—she maintained a rare calmness and detachment, as if she were not a disgraced woman but still the Empress of the Zhao Song dynasty.

Zhao Yu felt this was how an Empress ought to be.

But Liu Qingjing—even if made Empress—never looked like one.

Fine.

Zhao Yu admitted he preferred women like Meng Xiang—subtle, profound. Liu Qingjing, though beautiful, always gave Zhao Yu the sense of being unfit for the imperial court.

It was like comparing a wife of deep heritage, noble and elegant, with a gorgeous, charming, submissive courtesan—a vase to be admired occasionally, but ultimately one must return to the former.

Moreover, Meng Xiang’s Daoist robe offered Zhao Yu a different kind of allure—hmm… something like uniform temptation.

Zhao Yu quickly pulled himself back: “Definitely, the fire Ye Shi Yun stirred hasn’t fully burned out—I’m seeing lust in every woman. Yes, yes, that’s it—I don’t have a sister-in-law complex!”

Yet, Zhao Yu’s strong fondness for Meng Xiang stemmed from seeing her as a tenacious fighter against fate: twice deposed, twice restored, enduring life’s extremes beyond ordinary endurance. Yet she faced adversity with patience and resilience, preserving her dignity during her seclusion in Yaohua Palace, never blaming heaven or others. This ability to maintain inner peace amid ruin ultimately spared her from Jin forces during the Jingkang Humiliation, preserving her as a vital political symbol for the Southern Song’s survival.

After the Jingkang Humiliation, Meng Xiang, as the sole surviving imperial elder, supported Zhao Gou’s ascension, providing crucial legitimacy to the Southern Song regime.

Moreover, Meng Xiang twice presided over court behind a screen, using gentleness to overcome force—calming mutinous troops while secretly coordinating loyalist forces, saving Zhao Gou’s life and preserving the Zhao Song dynasty, demonstrating exceptional political acumen.

More remarkable still, though branded by the Old Faction, once in power she prioritized the greater good, remaining neutral in the New-Old Faction struggle, neither siding with powerful ministers nor retaliating against rivals.

Finally, she showed remarkable magnanimity by caring for the daughter of Zhao Xu, who had abandoned her, and Liu Qingjing, who had harmed her—revealing a political vision transcending personal grudges.

Moreover, Meng Xiang was humble and frugal, never abusing power for family gain; even in exile, she insisted on paying for her wine and refused healing talismans, setting an example that upheld the dignity of the Zhao Song imperial house—an absolute model of maternal virtue.

Of course, Meng Xiang’s role as a stabilizing pillar who rebuilt the Zhao Song dynasty was contingent—her political significance shaped largely by circumstance. Yet even so, her clear-headed choices at critical moments were vital to the Southern Song’s early stability.

In short, Zhao Yu deeply admired this woman.

Yet, while admiring Meng Xiang, Zhao Yu also pitied her: she had done nothing wrong, yet twice been deposed and restored due to factional strife, her entire life swept along by politics like a leaf in a storm—struggling fiercely yet never controlling her own fate. In her eyes now lay profound wisdom and boundless weariness, scars carved by time and suffering.

Zhao Yu bid Meng Xiang rise and said cleanly: “Sister-in-law, you overstate it. When I was a prince, I already declared the witchcraft case was a court fabrication—baseless. I regretted then my powerlessness to clear your name. Now that I am emperor, I shall rectify this injustice and restore your status as Empress.”

Upon hearing this, Meng Xiang’s eyes flickered with emotion, but she suppressed it instantly. She rose slowly, poised and dignified, and whispered: “Thank Your Majesty for speaking justly. Chongzhen is deeply grateful. But Chongzhen has long since grown indifferent to glory and shame—my heart is still as water. The Empress’s position means nothing more to me than fading clouds.”

‘If you truly were indifferent and devoted to the Dao, you wouldn’t have accepted restoration twice. Hmm… historically, your second restoration was unavoidable—if you hadn’t stepped forward, Zhao Song would’ve collapsed. Fine. But historically, your first restoration—this parallel timeline’s version—if you didn’t want to return, how could Zhao Ji have pulled you out of Yaohua Palace?’

Because Zhao Yu genuinely liked Meng Xiang, he offered her an out: “Sister-in-law, your noble character moves me. But surely you don’t wish yourself or your attendants to carry this false accusation forever?”

Meng Xiang fell silent. She hadn’t yet reached such a high state.

Seeing this, Zhao Yu declared loudly: “Meng Shi, hear my decree: for your unjust disgrace and removal from the Empress’s seat, I deeply grieve. Your virtue, grace, and maternal dignity are universally known—you bear no fault. I now restore your justice, reinstating you as Empress, with the title ‘Yuanyou Empress.’”

Upon hearing Zhao Yu’s oral decree, Meng Xiang’s face remained calm as a still well, yet deep in her eyes, a faint ripple stirred—like the first trickle beneath spring-thawing ice, carrying both release from past suffering and a quiet hope for the future.

Unlike Meng Xiang’s serene composure, her attendants behind her—especially the many disabled palace women—were deeply moved.

Three years!

Back then, they were unjustly swept into the brutal witchcraft case: some had their tongues cut out, others limbs broken—all because of a court conspiracy. They endured this cruel fate, barely surviving day and night in Yaohua Palace, burdened by false guilt, filled with resentment and grief.

Now, Zhao Yu’s single decree finally cleared their names, ending their suffering. Tears glittered in their eyes—tears of joy and release. Their lips trembled, as if a thousand words surged within them, yet none could be spoken.

Meng Xiang bowed slowly, with even greater reverence: “Thank Your Majesty for this great grace.”

Zhao Yu personally brought Meng Xiang back to the palace and assigned her residence in Qingshou Palace.

Qingshou Palace was the retirement residence of the Grand Empress Dowager or Empress Dowager—once occupied by Gao Taotao.

In fact, Zhao Yu had struggled when deciding Meng Xiang’s residence—her status was awkward to place.

Eventually, Zhao Yu sent Liang Shicheng to consult Empress Xiang, who ultimately decided Meng Xiang should reside in Qingshou Palace.

Imperial matters are never trivial.

Empress Xiang assigning Meng Xiang to Gao Taotao’s former residence would inevitably invite speculation.

But Zhao Yu reasoned: if even Empress Xiang couldn’t control him now, how much less could Meng Xiang?

So Zhao Yu followed Empress Xiang’s decision and ordered Qingshou Palace cleared and prepared.

After settling Meng Xiang in Qingshou Palace, Zhao Yu instructed Liang Shicheng to assign her additional attendants—but Meng Xiang refused.

Meng Xiang said: “These elderly attendants in my palace are sufficient. No need for extravagance.”

Zhao Yu didn’t press. He made small talk, speaking of the original Zhao Yu’s childhood interactions with Meng Xiang, then discussed Daoist principles with her using his half-understood knowledge.

Meng Xiang saw through him: Zhao Yu didn’t want to neglect her but didn’t know what to say to his widowed sister-in-law. So she kindly said: “Night falls. Your Majesty must rise early tomorrow. I, as a Daoist, eat only before noon—allow me to decline your company for dinner.”

Zhao Yu felt awkward staying with his widowed sister-in-law.

Worse, he was genuinely distracted.

So he quickly took the opening and left Qingshou Palace.

On the way back, Meng Xiang’s figure lingered in Zhao Yu’s mind.

Zhao Yu felt this wasn’t a good thing. He had no shortage of women—he didn’t need to stumble here.

Back in the inner palace, Zhao Yu considered summoning Ye Shi Yun to his bed, asking her to wear the qipao she’d worn that day—or even a Daoist robe—but he didn’t want to surrender so easily to her seduction.

So he randomly chose two palace maids—both beautiful and well-built—and fully satisfied himself.

In the sage phase, Ye Shi Yun, Meng Xiang—both be gone.

‘I have so many women. Can you control me?’

When Li Shishi and Zhao Yuannu arrived, they overheard Zhao Yu chatting with the two lucky maids.

Li Shishi and Zhao Yuannu hurried back to report to Zhang Chun and Ye Shi Yun.

Learning that not only had the two female officials stolen her created benefits that morning, but now two maids had shared them too—clearly, Zhao Yu had been drained today, leaving her nothing—Ye Shi Yun regretted bitterly: “It’s all my fault. If I’d seen he was holding on, I could’ve pushed harder and taken him.”

Then Ye Shi Yun blamed Li Lin: “And it’s Li Lin’s fault too—if she’d hinted earlier that Zhao Yu was already bewitched by me, could he have escaped?”

Zhang Chun also lamented: “Now that Zhao Yu escaped, next time we try to take him, it’ll be harder.”

Ye Shi Yun agreed: “Exactly. Next time this tactic won’t work. And I think Li Lin’s right—Zhao Yu’s now playing us off against each other, rewarding ordinary maids rather than letting us succeed.”

Then Ye Shi Yun clenched her teeth: “My temper’s pushed too far—I’ll reverse-penetrate him! Let him go complain anywhere—he can bear all consequences!”

Zhang Chun analyzed calmly: “One-time deals don’t work. This must be voluntary. Otherwise, we lose more than we gain.”

“What plan? Have Xiao Jiao invent stockings or yoga pants? Can we really play uniform temptation? If we dress as flight attendants, nurses, or teachers, he has to understand them first.” Ye Shi Yun said.

Inspired by Ye Shi Yun, Zhang Chun had an idea: “What if we dress as nuns? Wu Zetian used a nun’s outfit to seduce Li Zhi.”

“Do we have to shave our heads? If not, I agree.” Ye Shi Yun said.

“True nuns must shave. But we’re just pretending—no need for such sacrifice.” Zhang Chun said.

“Fine.” Ye Shi Yun agreed.

“Let’s act now. Tomorrow I’ll find Pei Sui and get her to arrange nun’s robes for us.” Zhang Chun said.

“Why just one set?” Ye Shi Yun asked.

“Didn’t we agree you go first?” Zhang Chun said.

“Uh… if we’re getting the robes tomorrow, I might not be able to.” Ye Shi Yun said.

“Why?” Zhang Chun asked.

“My period’s coming—tomorrow or the day after.” Ye Shi Yun said helplessly.

After thinking, Ye Shi Yun offered: “How about I let you go first?”

Zhang Chun rolled her eyes: “Do you know why I told you to go first?”

…

Leaving Zhang Chun and Ye Shi Yun to rest for a few days, we turn to the New Faction: when they learned Zhao Yu personally retrieved Meng Xiang and assigned her to Gao Taotao’s former residence, Qingshou Palace, they immediately grew wary.

Cai Bian, Ceng Bu, and Cai Jing rushed to Zhang Dun’s home to discuss strategy.

Upon meeting, Cai Bian asked Zhang Dun: “Could the Emperor be turning toward the Yuanyou Faction?”

“Don’t panic,” Zhang Dun said calmly. “I’ve received word: Han Zhongyan and Xu Jiang visited the Empress yesterday morning; by afternoon, the Empress summoned the Emperor for a meal. Today, the Emperor reinstated Meng Empress and brought her back—clearly, the Old Faction and the Empress orchestrated this. The Emperor is merely acting under pressure, a temporary measure.”

Here, Zhang Dun said confidently: “The Emperor is no flip-flopper. He understands our Song’s situation well—he will never turn toward the Yuanyou Faction.”

Cai Jing echoed: “I’ve spoken at length with the Emperor. I’d stake my head on it—he values reform as much as Emperor Shenzong and Emperor Zhezong.”

Hearing Zhang Dun and Cai Jing’s certainty, Cai Bian and Ceng Bu finally relaxed.

Cai Bian said: “If the Emperor remains firm, tomorrow’s proceedings won’t change. We must seize this chance to crush the Yuanyou Faction and prevent any Yuanyou Restoration.”

…

At the same time, many Old Faction figures were celebrating Meng Xiang’s restoration as Yuanyou Empress.

To many Old Faction members, Meng Xiang’s return as Empress and her residence in Gao Taotao’s former palace signaled a major political victory—likely a sign that Empress Xiang would become Gao Taotao, lead them in a Yuanyou Restoration, destroy the New Faction, and abolish the New Laws.

Yet, discerning Old Faction figures like Han Zhongyan and Su Shi saw differently.

In their view, since Empress Xiang chose not to preside behind the screen but entrusted governance to Zhao Yu, she meant to be no Gao Taotao. The Zhao Song dynasty’s future would follow Zhao Yu’s will.

Though Zhao Yu had yet to declare his political stance, he was among the clearest-eyed men regarding Song’s problems—he knew: without reform, the Zhao Song dynasty had no future, no survival.

So another Yuanyou Restoration was impossible.

Crucially, Han Zhongyan and Su Shi had spoken with Empress Xiang—they knew she favored a middle path: reconciling New and Old Factions, uniting them to find a way forward for Zhao Song.

In other words, reform was inevitable. The question was no longer whether to reform—but how.

As for Meng Xiang’s restoration, its political signal remained unclear.

And tomorrow’s court session—will the purge of Sima Guang and other Old Faction figures proceed?

‘On one hand, rehabilitating the Yuanyou Empress; on the other, purging Sima Guang and others—what does the Emperor truly intend?’

…

(End of Chapter)