Chapter 136: The Coronation of the Empress

 

 

The 24th year of the Jianxing reign marked an awkward point in time.

 

On a day in late March, officials from the six ministries of the court were working as usual within the imperial city when suddenly, some unusual sounds could be heard outside the hall. Moments later, a bold colleague ventured out to investigate and returned with surprising news: the palace gates had been locked.

 

At this time, the western sky still glowed with sunset, and officials had not yet dismissed from their duties. It certainly wasn’t the time for the palace gates to be locked. Meanwhile, many Imperial Guards had entered the capital, securing key streets and alleys.

 

The officials exchanged uneasy glances, each sensing something out of the ordinary. Wisely, they kept their thoughts to themselves, refraining from venturing outside to verify or to attempt any changes.

 

They spent a night filled with anxiety. The next morning, the gates of Qianqing Palace opened as usual, but the officials, with heads lowered, noticed what seemed like faint traces of dried blood within the cracks of the marble steps. The emperor did not appear, and instead, the eunuchs of the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs announced the imperial decree. The emperor, citing ill health, had abdicated the throne to become the Retired Emperor, passing the throne to Crown Prince Qin Yi.

 

Thus unfolded the infamous Jianxing Incident.

 

By this point, there was little for the Grand Secretariat to say. Though it was an act of treason, a forced abdication, most officials privately welcomed the outcome. While the process was unconventional and violent, the outcome was acceptable: as long as the right person ascended the throne, these small details could be conveniently overlooked.

 

After all, the claim of Prince Su was always weaker. The Crown Prince had been in palace for many years, and many officials did not want to see a change in the line of succession. Since Prince Su had entered the capital, he had aggressively tried to win favor and buy influence. These tactics might have worked on commoners, but they fell short in the eyes of the scholar-officials who had climbed the ranks through civil service exams.

 

As the emperor grew increasingly suspicious of the Crown Prince, officials of both the older and younger generations grew anxious. The older generation upheld the orthodox principle of primogeniture, where the legitimate eldest son should inherit the throne. The younger generation, many of whom had been promoted by Qin Yi during the defense of the capital, also felt that his ascension was only natural. While Qin Yi’s support of reforms had alienated a faction of conservative ministers, even they were staunchly committed to the principle of legitimate succession. If the emperor had truly harbored thoughts of deposing the Crown Prince in favor of Prince Su, these conservative ministers would have fiercely resisted.

 

Most importantly, what could be done at this point? It was what it was. After hearing the peculiar abdication edict, a few moments of silence followed in Qianqing Palace Square, before the crowd erupted into a chorus of “Long live Emperor!” One by one, they knelt down and began praising the emperor’s virtues, urging the Crown Prince—now the new Emperor—to accept the mandate of Heaven and ascend to the throne without delay.

 

Having risked everything in orchestrating the palace coup, Qin Yi had done so for this very result. However, when the officials urged him to set a date for his enthronement, Qin Yi frowned in silence as he looked at the options presented by the Imperial Astronomers.

 

Qin Yi was already married, so his coronation ceremony and the empress’s investiture would be held together. However, given the current state of Chu Jinyao’s health, she was in no condition to endure the strenuous formalities of such an elaborate ceremony.

 

In Ciqing Palace, the guards that had previously surrounded it had been replaced by Qin Yi’s own men. The first thing Qin Yi did after regaining control of the court was to carefully move Chu Jinyao back to Ciqing Palace. She now leaned against her bed, gently rocking her child’s wooden cradle while listening to her attendants report on events outside.

 

“… After hearing the news of Prince Su’s death, Noble Consort Shu threw herself from a beam. They say Princess Consort Su has been in a hysterical state at the Su residence, crying every day and claiming she will appeal to the Retired Emperor for justice.”

 

Prince Su had been killed during the palace coup, and Fang Pucun, the schemer who had played with everyone’s lives, had been brutally struck down by a military officer. Fang Pucun’s cruel tactics had long enraged the soldiers, who had wanted to deal with him for some time. As for Noble Consort Shu, she had also died.

 

“Appeal for justice? She dares speak of justice?” Chu Jinyao, now drained of strength, appeared soft and fragile, her voice weakened as well. “Previously, because of the emperor—the Retired Emperor—many matters couldn’t be pursued, but now, it’s time to finally settle the score. They’ll be held accountable for poisoning Empress Muhuai.”

 

Noble Consort Shu had once schemed to frame the Eastern Palace by killing Empress Xiao Qi, and Chu Jinyao had long harbored a desire for retribution. However, with the Retired Emperor still on the throne and favoring Prince Su as a model son, Chu Jinyao had not been able to pursue the matter fully. Now, though, with the Retired Emperor no longer in power, she had no more reservations. Revenge would be held, and debts would be settled.

 

As for those who believed that the dead should not be held accountable for their sins, Chu Jinyao had little regard for such reasoning. She respected the deceased, but wrongs must be righted, regardless of whether the offender was dead. Besides, Empress Xiao Qi was also a victim of Noble Consort Shu’s schemes—shouldn’t her death be avenged as well?

 

Though Chu Jinyao and Empress Xiao Qi had their own disagreements, personal grievances were one matter, while the crime of murder was another. Revenge for her private quarrels was one thing, but the punishment for Noble Consort Shu’s crime of murder was something entirely separate. Death did not absolve her of guilt, and the truth must come to light.

 

Linglong accepted the order with calm resolve. Given the current state of the court, she likely wouldn’t need to do much investigating; many palace servants would come forward on their own to provide evidence. With Prince Su dead, Noble Consort Shu having taken her own life, and no chance of the Prince Su’s family regaining favor, her power in the palace crumbled almost instantly. Seeing the wind change, the opportunists in the palace would now be eager to offer their assistance.

 

Chu Jinyao trusted Linglong to handle the matter. Among her maids, Dingxiang was known for her loyalty and reliability, handling Chu Jinyao’s food and drink, while Erxue was shrewd and clever, capable of playing the “bad cop.” However, when it came to handling delicate tasks with precision, no one was more thorough than Linglong.

 

After receiving her orders, Linglong retreated, and the palace nurse brought over a bowl of white tonic soup, coaxing Chu Jinyao, “Your Highness, you lost a lot of strength in childbirth. You need to eat more to recover.”

 

Chu Jinyao could hardly bear the sight of the tonic. After her dangerous childbirth, everyone had been frightened. The palace and the public sent endless amounts of bird’s nests and gelatin tonics, and Qin Yi, too, kept sending rich supplements through the Imperial Household Department. It felt like too much.

 

Chu Jinyao showed a pained expression, but before the nurse could start nagging again, a voice came from outside the cabinet: “What’s going on?”

 

At the sound of that voice, the entire room knelt down. “Your Majesty.”

 

Chu Jinyao tried to rise but was gently held back by Qin Yi, who helped her lean back into her original position. She lazily gestured at a formal greeting, “Your Highness.”

 

The titles in Ciqing Palace had become a bit muddled. Since Qin Yi had not officially ascended the throne, and Chu Jinyao hadn’t been formally crowned empress, the titles were unclear. The palace servants had taken to calling Qin Yi “Your Majesty,” but Chu Jinyao continued to address him as “Your Highness.” Likewise, the palace staff didn’t quite know what to call Chu Jinyao, so they used a mix of “Crown Princess” and “Her Highness,” creating this strange mix of titles.

 

Qin Yi glanced at the bowl of tonic Chu Jinyao had set aside and quickly understood the situation. “You’re not eating again?”

 

“It’s not that I refuse to eat,” Chu Jinyao frowned, looking aggrieved. “But there’s just too much of it. I’m not a pig being fattened up, so how much do I really need to eat?”

 

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Qin Yi said, then picked up the bowl, tasted the temperature, and gently offered her a spoonful. “Come now, be good, just finish it.”

 

Even though Xiao Linzi had witnessed such moments countless times before and had become immune to it, he still felt an urge to gouge out his eyes.

 

Was this really happening? Was this the same person?

 

The palace servants kept their eyes down, pretending they neither saw nor heard anything. Chu Jinyao reluctantly drank half the bowl before shaking her head, refusing to have any more.

 

Seeing that she truly couldn’t take another bite, Qin Yi didn’t press her further and set the bowl aside. A eunuch quickly came forward to remove it. Qin Yi wiped his hands with a handkerchief, mentally noting to remind the Imperial Kitchen to prepare supplements that didn’t taste like supplements. He saw no problem with this at all.

 

After washing away the sickly taste in her mouth with water, Chu Jinyao sighed in relief. Worrying that Qin Yi might press her into another feast, she quickly changed the subject. “Why are you here so early today?”

 

“There’s nothing much going on in court.”

 

Chu Jinyao didn’t buy it. The emperor had abdicated, the new dynasty was still stabilizing—how could there be “nothing much” happening? She didn’t bother calling him out, though, and instead asked about another pressing matter. “When is the date set for the coronation?”

 

Qin Yi shook his head, answering casually, “No rush. We’ll wait until you’re fully recovered.”

 

“How can you say there’s no rush?” Chu Jinyao was flabbergasted. “You forced the Retired Emperor to abdicate. Even if no one in the capital dares speak out, there’s no guarantee that the border princes won’t use this against you. You need to ascend the throne quickly. Once you inherit the imperial mandate, any rebellion will be a treasonous uprising.”

 

“If I ascend the throne, then the empress must be crowned at the same time. You can’t withstand the ceremony in your current condition. If I ascend first and you’re still the Crown Princess, that wouldn’t be proper.”

 

Chu Jinyao hit him in exasperation. “What are you talking about?”

 

Qin Yi remained perfectly righteous. “It’s the truth. These things don’t look good in the imperial family. It’s better to wait a bit and do it all at once.”

 

A few days later, Old Madam Chu visited Chu Jinyao in the palace, cautiously broaching the subject. “Your Highness, has His Majesty mentioned anything about your title?”

 

With the dust settling after the palace coup, and the new reign year already proclaimed, the entire empire knew that a new emperor had taken the throne. Yet, there was no word about appointing an empress, and this had left the Chu family—especially Marquis Changxing—concerned.

 

Remembering Qin Yi’s nonchalant attitude, Chu Jinyao felt this was a case of “the emperor not being in a hurry, while his ministers were.” She huffed and dismissed the worry. “He’s not even concerned about his own coronation. It’ll happen eventually.”

 

Old Madam Chu, reassured by the fact that no new concubines had entered the palace and that Chu Jinyao had just given birth to a legitimate son, finally relaxed. There was no reason why her granddaughter wouldn’t be named empress.

 

Meanwhile, in court, the Grand Secretariat was equally baffled.

 

Never in all their years had they seen a prince who had seized the throne through a palace coup show such a lack of urgency in officially ascending the throne. Even though the Retired Emperor had only three sons, the imperial clan had many princes. The ministers weren’t sure whether to praise Qin Yi’s patience or his audacity.

 

And so, in the first month of the reign year of Jinghe, while the emperor remained unhurried and all of the court remained tense, a month quietly passed. Once Chu Jinyao had mostly recovered, Qin Yi finally brought relief to the long-suffering imperial astrologers by choosing a date for the coronation and empress’s investiture.

 

On May 18th, Chu Jinyao donned the full empress’s ceremonial robe, as female officials removed her four-winged Crown Princess headdress and replaced it with the six-winged empress’s crown. Draped in a long ceremonial robe, she made her way slowly to Qianqing Palace.

 

Atop the ornate marble steps, Qin Yi stood dressed in his imperial black robes, his golden imperial dragon shimmering on his shoulders. Through the nine strings of jade beads that adorned his crown, he gazed at her with a focused intensity.

 

As Chu Jinyao approached the base of the stairs, the female officials and eunuchs lowered their heads and halted. The path leading to the highest palace in the realm could only be walked by the emperor and empress alone.

 

Slowly, Chu Jinyao ascended the steps. When she reached the final three steps, Qin Yi extended his hand toward her. Clad in his imperial robes, his imposing figure and sharp, handsome features commanded awe. After five years in waiting, ten years as the Crown Prince, he had finally reached the pinnacle that was rightfully his.

 

At long last, Chu Jinyao placed her hand in Qin Yi’s outstretched palm. The moment her hand touched his, he gripped it tightly. Turning together to face the officials below, the resounding notes of ceremonial music filled the air. In their full ceremonial attire, the civil and military officials, along with the noblewomen of the court, performed the most solemn of bows, chanting in unison:

 

“Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empress! May the Emperor and Empress share their virtue and bring prosperity to our dynasty!”

 

Thus, the Jinghe era began in earnest.