016
On the 24th day of the twelfth lunar month, just after the Little New Year, the afterglow of the ceremony of bestowing the title of Crown Prince had not yet dissipated when another major event came to the palace—the end of the year was approaching, and according to ancestral rules, the royal family had to hold a grand ceremony to worship Heaven at the Imperial Ancestral Temple, followed by a grand New Year's banquet in the palace.
When the news reached Zhuixia Pavilion, Si Mianmian was gazing absently at a white plum blossom budding outside the window. Consort Wen stood beside her, softly reciting the rules of the palace banquet, her brow furrowed with worry. In previous years, she and her daughter were merely insignificant embellishments in this grand spectacle, often intentionally or unintentionally overlooked due to pretexts such as "low rank" or "weak health requiring rest." But this year, the situation was vastly different.
The Empress Dowager's favor, the Crown Prince's elder brother Si Jingjin's subtle protection, and even the intriguing attention from the Heir Apparent Rong Jingyu, all shone like faint but undeniable rays of light into this secluded palace, propelling them into the center of attention of many. This year's palace banquet was destined to be one they could no longer remain uninvolved in.
Survival Handbook Rule 16: True opportunities often lie hidden in seemingly ordinary circumstances. Listen for thunder in silence, and seize opportunities in the details.
"Mother, please don't worry," Si Mianmian turned around, took Wen Pin's slightly cool hand, and a calming smile bloomed on her face. "Since it is a palace banquet, we should just do our duty. Father Emperor is benevolent and filial in governing the country. At the New Year's palace banquet, what he values most is the atmosphere of family reunion and harmony between superiors and inferiors. We just need to sit quietly and not make any mistakes, and that will be enough."
Though she said this, her mind was already racing. The New Year's banquet was an excellent opportunity to meet her father, but it could also be a whirlpool fraught with danger. How to attract her father's attention among the many concubines and princes without becoming the target of everyone's criticism required extremely delicate skill.
Opportunity always favors the prepared. Over the past few days, Si Mianmian had taken advantage of her visits to Chang Le Palace to pay her respects to the Empress Dowager, subtly discerning her father's recent movements and preferences from the casual conversations of the old palace servants. For example, His Majesty had recently caught a cold and was still coughing, and he particularly disliked overly sweet foods at banquets; also, although His Majesty was the Son of Heaven, he especially missed a simple plum blossom cake from his childhood during the New Year festivals, a dish that the late Empress Dowager had been most skilled at making.
Survival Manual Postscript: Intelligence is the cornerstone of survival in the palace. The most brilliant strategy begins with a precise understanding of the target's preferences.
On the day of the palace banquet, as the lanterns were lit, the Taiji Hall was warm as springtime, filled with the sounds of string and wind instruments. The Emperor sat high on his throne, with concubines, princes, and princesses seated in order, clinking glasses and chatting amiably. Si Mianmian and Consort Wen were still seated towards the back, but they were no longer completely forgotten in the corner as in previous years. She could feel several gazes sweeping over her, some openly, some subtly—curiosity, scrutiny, and perhaps even disdain.
Midway through the banquet, the singing and dancing ceased, and the eunuchs, as usual, presented various exquisite pastries. When a plate of uniquely shaped pastries, exuding a faint plum blossom fragrance, was placed before the Emperor, Emperor Si Yuanhong's gaze lingered on it for a moment. The pastries were not the elaborate styles usually prepared by the imperial kitchen; instead, they had a plain white glutinous rice skin, through which the dark red filling could be faintly seen, shaped like a newly blossoming plum blossom, and lightly dotted with a small pinch of golden osmanthus sugar flowers, fresh and elegant.
"This snack..." the emperor began, his voice carrying a hint of authority from someone long accustomed to a high position, as well as a subtle, probing quality.
The serving eunuch hurriedly bowed and reported, "Your Majesty, this is a gift from the Ninth Princess. She said it is a 'Fragrance Soup' made according to an ancient recipe. It is not an ordinary dessert and has the effect of moisturizing the lungs and promoting the production of body fluids. It is specially presented to Your Majesty for your enjoyment."
A slight silence fell over the hall. The concubines all turned their gazes toward Si Mianmian in the corner. Offering food was commonplace, but for an unfavored princess to present pastries not made by the imperial kitchen was a bold move.
Si Mianmian rose at the opportune moment, walked to the hall, and knelt down respectfully. Her voice was clear yet gentle: "Father, please forgive me. The other day, while reading miscellaneous books, I came across an ancient recipe for dietary therapy from a previous dynasty. The 'Hidden Fragrance Soup' made using this method is mild and can soothe coughs. Considering the lavish feasts during the New Year and the recent health issues of Father, my mother and I tried making some. This is not a delicacy, but merely a token of my filial piety. If it is not in accordance with the proper etiquette, I will be executed." Her words were sincere, cleverly transforming "flattery" into "filial piety," and clearly stating that it was a shared sentiment with her mother, displaying an extremely humble attitude.
The emperor looked at the young girl kneeling below the platform. She was slender and dressed simply, appearing exceptionally pure amidst the glittering jewels. He remembered that this daughter had fallen ill from drowning some time ago, and the Empress Dowager seemed to have taken good care of her. He pondered for a moment, then picked up his silver chopsticks and took a bite.
The pastry wasn't as cloyingly sweet as he'd expected; instead, it was a delicate sweetness with a hint of plum tartness and the rich aroma of osmanthus. The glutinous rice skin was soft and chewy to the perfect degree, and the filling seemed to be made with honey and dried tangerine peel. After swallowing, his throat felt truly smooth and warm. What was even more remarkable was that the taste... subtly evoked a distant memory in him.
"Get up," the emperor said, his tone softening. "The taste is acceptable; you've put in the effort."
"Thank you, Father Emperor." Si Mianmian stood up, bowed her head, and stood aside without saying much or showing any smugness.
At this moment, Crown Prince Si Jingjin, who was sitting below the Emperor, suddenly spoke up: "Although Ninth Sister is young, her filial piety is commendable. I have heard that she has been taking great care of the Empress Dowager in her palace recently, and has even personally copied scriptures to pray for her grandmother's well-being."
The Empress responded gently, "Yes, Consort Wen has raised her child very well, and he is also very calm."
The Crown Prince and the Empress spoke in turn, their words carrying different weight. The Emperor couldn't help but glance at Si Mianmian again. In his memory, this daughter had always seemed timid and inconspicuous, but now she appeared to have become much more sensible. "Hmm, not bad. Reward her."
A potential storm turned into an invisible reward. Si Mianmian thanked the emperor and returned to her seat, feeling even more complicated gazes upon her, including the almost fiery stare of the Seventh Princess, Si Yunshang. She pretended not to notice and quietly served food to Consort Wen, as if everything that had just happened had nothing to do with her.
Survival Handbook Note: Leveraging existing resources and the influence of allies is more effective than going it alone.
As the palace banquet drew to a close, the Emperor and Empress departed, and the crowd gradually dispersed. Si Mianmian, supporting Consort Wen, walked at the very back, deliberately slowing her pace. When they reached the long corridor connecting the Imperial Garden to the inner palace, they indeed saw that the Emperor was not riding in his imperial carriage, but was standing with his hands behind his back under the corridor, accompanied only by his close attendants. He was gazing at an ancient, vigorous plum tree outside the corridor, seemingly admiring the plum blossom, or perhaps lost in thought.
Si Mianmian knew this was a chance encounter, or perhaps a test from her father. She gestured for Qiuhe to escort Consort Wen back to her palace first, then straightened her clothes, stepped forward slowly, stopped a few steps away, and respectfully bowed: "Mianmian greets Father Emperor."
The emperor turned around, his expression obscured by the darkness, but his gaze remained calm: "It's so late, why aren't you going home yet?"
"Your Majesty, I couldn't help but take a second look at this unique green plum blossom." Si Mianmian's voice was soft, with a hint of girlish innocence. "My mother said that this plum tree was planted by my grandfather during his reign and has witnessed the lives of several generations of my Si family."
She mentioned the late emperor in a natural tone, with a hint of reverence for her family's history. Upon hearing this, the emperor indeed turned his gaze to the ancient plum tree again, remained silent for a moment, and then said, "You do recognize this as a green calyx plum."
"Your subject is dull-witted and did not recognize it at first." Si Mianmian lowered her head slightly, a little embarrassed. "It was only a few days ago when I went to pay my respects to my grandmother that I remembered it after hearing her talk about the stories of the flowers and trees in the palace. My grandmother said that the plum blossom has a noble character, does not compete for the spring colors, but has its own integrity."
She naturally steered the conversation back to the Empress Dowager, mentioning that she frequently visited her to show filial piety and listen to her teachings. The Emperor turned to face her directly: "Have you been visiting the Empress Dowager's palace often lately?"
"Yes. My grandmother is kind and often summons me to talk, teaching me to read and write, and explaining the principles of conduct. I have benefited greatly from it." Si Mianmian answered sincerely, then, with a hint of filial piety, she carefully asked, "Father, I... I have been practicing calligraphy lately, but I can't seem to get the hang of it. My grandmother says that Father's calligraphy is vigorous and powerful, with an imperial air. I wonder... I wonder if I could occasionally ask Father for some guidance?"
She didn't make any excessive demands, only saying she was "asking for advice," and she used the Empress Dowager's name, making it hard to refuse. The night was hazy, and the lamplight under the eaves was dim, illuminating the girl's upturned face, full of expectation and awe. Her eyes were pure, without any impurities, only a faint light of worship for her father and a desire to be close to him.
Looking at the face that bore a resemblance to Consort Wen, yet possessed a more delicate and refined beauty, the Emperor recalled her "filial piety" that evening, the Empress Dowager's praise, and the Crown Prince's affirmation. The hard shell of imperial power within him seemed to be pried open a crack by this cautious intimacy. He had reigned on the throne for a long time and had many children, but few had dared to approach him with such boldness and "carefulness."
"I am busy with state affairs and have no time to guide you all the time." The emperor's voice was unreadable, but he did not directly rebuke you. "If you are willing, you can send your calligraphy practice to me. If I have time, I may take a look."
This is an immense blessing! Although he did not agree to personally teach her, allowing her to present calligraphy to the Emperor was already a legitimate reason for her to regularly "make her presence felt" in front of her father.
Si Mianmian immediately revealed an expression of great joy that she was trying hard to suppress, and bowed deeply: "Your subject thanks Your Majesty! Your subject will definitely study calligraphy diligently and live up to Your Majesty's expectations!"
The emperor grunted in acknowledgment, said nothing more, and turned to leave. Only after that bright yellow figure disappeared into the night did Si Mianmian slowly straighten up. A cold wind blew through the corridor, but she didn't feel cold; instead, she felt a warmth welling up in her heart.
The final chapter of the survival manual: The highest level of strategy is to make the other person feel like they're not being pursued; everything seems natural and spontaneous. Every seemingly insignificant contact paves the way for the next, even closer encounter.
Back at Zhuixia Pavilion, Consort Wen was already anxiously waiting. Upon hearing what had happened, she was both frightened and overjoyed. Si Mianmian comforted her mother and sat alone by the window, gazing at the cold crescent moon in the sky.
Tonight is just the beginning. She has successfully planted a seed in her father's heart called "Ninth Princess Si Mianmian". This seed is about "filial piety", "sensibleness", "the Empress Dowager's favor", and perhaps even a trace of slight guilt towards Consort Wen and her daughter.
Next, all she had to do was carefully water it, allowing the seed to slowly sprout until it grew into a towering tree that no one could easily shake.
She has found the first path to climb the seemingly insurmountable peak of her father, the emperor.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
