Chronicles of the Imperial Harem · Chat

Spring, the third year of Yongning of the Daqian Dynasty. This imperial draft was the first grand selection held since Jun Linyuan ascended the throne. During his first three years, the court had been unstable, the borders had not yet been pacified, and the prominent clans had remained watchful, so he had conveniently delayed it. Now that the realm was secure and more than half the six palaces sat empty, the veteran ministers of the outer court had submitted memorials three times. Each time, their wording grew more tactful, yet their meaning became clearer: *Your Majesty, it is time to choose consorts.* Inside the main hall of Kunning Palace, Cui Qingyu sat upright just below Jun Linyuan to the left. He was clad in the deep red, subtly patterned formal robes of the Central Palace, the collar and sleeves bordered with exceedingly fine gold-threaded cloud motifs, appearing dignified without revealing a sliver of sharpness. His makeup today was exceedingly light; the refined, gentle grace of his features was set off by the pure crimson to look all the more majestic. Holding a roster in his hands, his knuckles turned the pages at an unhurried pace. Jun Linyuan sat in the seat of honor, dressed in dark informal robes, his pale golden hair bound neatly and cleanly. Cupping a teacup in hand, that gentle, faint smile remained pinned to his face, making him appear even more at ease than Cui Qingyu. Yet as to what lay hidden beneath that smile, none could discern. “What does Your Majesty think?” Cui Qingyu turned slightly, his voice clear, soft, and clean, like a mountain brook half-thawed in spring. “Among this cohort submitted by the Ministry of Rites, both their family backgrounds and demeanors seem decent.” Jun Linyuan raised an eyebrow, his tone gentle. “Let the Empress decide. We trust your discernment.” Cui Qingyu lowered his eyes slightly, the corners of his lips curving in a measured arc. “Your servant would not dare act arbitrarily; it is only proper that Your Majesty examine them in person. After all, this is a matter of the inner palace, but also of the imperial clan.” His words were watertight, preserving the Emperor’s dignity while keeping firmly to his own duty as a consort. Jun Linyuan glanced at him sideways, his smile deepening a fraction. He demurred no longer, setting down his teacup and leaning forward slightly to inspect the candidates in earnest. Outside the hall, the maidens and youths awaiting selection had already been standing for nearly half an hour. The sun was not harsh, and the spring breeze carried the scent of flowering crabapples drifting from the Imperial Garden, yet standing in straight rows like this, no matter how luxurious the fabrics of their garments, could not stave off aching legs and feet. A few bolder ones peeked into the hall, caught sight of that dark-clad silhouette in the seat of honor, and hastily looked away, their ears flushing crimson. The shrill voices of the eunuchs echoed out one after another. Those whose names were called stepped forward, knelt in the center of the hall to pay homage, reported their names and lineages, and bowed their heads to await questioning. Jun Linyuan asked very little—an occasional question or two delivered in a calm, mild tone that revealed neither pleasure nor displeasure. Cui Qingyu would occasionally add a word or two, always proper and considerate, nothing beyond 'looks dignified,' 'comes from a clean family,' or 'seems docile.' Yet everyone inside and outside the hall knew that if the Emperor’s eyes lingered upon someone for even a breath longer, that person had a fraction more hope. Seven or eight candidates had already passed. Bai Qinghe, daughter of the Vice Minister of Revenue, possessed a delicate, fair countenance, yet her hands trembled as she stood in the hall. She answered each question haltingly, and upon finishing, nearly forgot her salutation before frantically making a deep prostration. Jun Linyuan did not take offense, merely remarking gently, “There is no need to be nervous,” and she retreated to the side with a blushing face. Fu Yuewei, daughter of the Grand Academician, was far more composed; her deportment was measured, and her replies articulate. Cui Qingyu gave her an extra glance, and Jun Linyuan followed suit, asking, “What books do you read at home?” Fu Yuewei answered splendidly, stepping down with a gait as steady as if walking upon the floor of her family's study. Further along, the pair of twins offered as tribute from the Western Regions stepped forward. The elder brother, Tan You, bowed first, carrying himself with such humility that he seemed ready to shrink into the floorboards. His speech was soft and timid, never straying from phrases like 'My sister and I have traveled from afar and are grateful for Your Majesty’s grace.' His sister, Qihua, followed behind him, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum. When bowing, she bent even lower than her brother, and when retreating, she clung to Tan You’s sleeve like a frightened sparrow. Cui Qingyu showed nothing on his face, but his heart softened for a brief instant. He turned and murmured to Jun Linyuan, “Those poor children look quite pitiable.” Jun Linyuan gave a noncommittal hum, his gaze lingering on the siblings for a moment before shifting away. Those from the Eastern Palace were not among this cohort. Lady Liang of the Handsome Fairness (Liang Jieyu) had entered the Eastern Palace years ago and did not need to wait before the hall today. However, the seat belonging to Noble Consort Yuan, Murong Xingyan, stood empty in the Noble Consorts’ row—he had not come today, claiming indisposition, and had sent someone to deliver a bowl of bird’s nest to Kunning Palace along with a message: 'Your servant is crude and fears clashing with the newcomers; I shall pay my respects to Your Majesty and the Empress once the selection is concluded.' The words were both proud and sour. Hearing them, Jun Linyuan merely laughed once and did not take the bait. Cui Qingyu likewise let the matter rest. Halfway through the palace draft, the eunuch turned the roster to a new page. Cui Qingyu looked down at the next name on the list, then raised his gaze outside the hall. The spring sun shone just right, casting faint golden rims around the silhouettes standing before the hall. He closed the roster, handed it back to the eunuch, and called out clearly, neither too loudly nor too softly— “Summon—” Taking the roster, the eunuch raised his shrill voice, piercing through the palace doors, through the spring breeze, through the courtyard heavy with the fragrance of crabapple blossoms, and falling upon the crowd waiting outside. “Summon the draft candidate—” His voice drew out the final syllable as though deliberately holding everyone in suspense, reading the name cadence by cadence. Everyone waiting outside the hall held their breath in unison, their eyes darting sideways in secret anticipation.