When Wei Caiwei arrived at Prince Yu's residence to examine Li Jiubao's pulse, she noticed numerous kites floating above the inner garden. A group of beauties laughed and played, each no less captivating than Li Jiubao. It seemed the prince's household had recently acquired a new batch of concubines to expand the lineage. Now that Prince Yu was the de facto crown prince, both the Ministry of Revenue and the Imperial Clan Court were eager to curry favor, unlike during Yan Shifan's era when stipends and provisions were withheld. The prince's residence, flush with wealth, could afford to maintain many beauties, and Princess Yu no longer needed to pawn her jewelry to maintain appearances.
Prince Yu resembled a diligent old ox, tirelessly plowing and sowing across various fields. Uncertain which plot would bear fruit, he cultivated as many as possible. With only two children so far—far from sufficient—he feared that if any met premature death, he would be left without heirs. Thus, more children were always better.
In principle, as the de facto crown prince, Prince Yu ought to be learning state affairs, as all heirs apparent had done throughout history. However, the Jiajing Emperor grew increasingly suspicious with age and illness, guarding against his only son to the extent of refusing to see him. Prince Yu dared not involve himself in politics, remaining idle all day—reading by day and laboring diligently through the nights.
Li Jiubao's second daughter had taken only half a day from labor to birth, a smooth delivery with both mother and child safe. Yet the pregnancy itself had been arduous, plagued by morning sickness and chickenpox, leaving her severely weakened.
Wei Caiwei urged Li Jiubao to focus on recuperation, advising against another pregnancy for at least two years. Nevertheless, Li Jiubao bore two children within three years.
Though detecting the pregnancy pulse, Wei Caiwei felt no joy, gently reminding her: "Your health must come first, Consort. You still have two children, and a long road ahead."
Her meaning was clear: You must survive. If you die, you'll merely have borne children for others.
Li Jiubao hung her head like a chastened child, murmuring: "I haven't forgotten Doctor Wei's advice. I tried to avoid the prince's company, but he insisted on visiting me... I couldn't refuse him."
Prince Yu considered Li Jiubao's "field" the most fertile, showing promising growth, and thus frequented it often. Though elevated to consort status and having borne two children, in Prince Yu's eyes she remained no different from other women in the residence—a reproductive tool, albeit an efficient one.
What use does a breeding tool serve beyond producing offspring?
Had Li Jiubao suffered difficult labor, Prince Yu would undoubtedly have prioritized the child's survival over the mother's well-being.
Moreover, no one would have found his decision objectionable.
Wei Caiwei could only sigh in resignation. With the pregnancy already confirmed, she could but emphasize bodily regulation and avoiding contact with external objects—since the Guanyin fertility incident, Li Wei had been barred from visiting Li Jiubao at the prince's residence.
After seeing Wei Caiwei off, the wet nurse brought in the freshly awakened second daughter. The plump, fair-cheeked girl stretched her arms toward her mother upon sight.
Both children's hair had been cut by Wei Caiwei. Neither had received imperial names or titles, being quietly raised in the residence.
Li Jiubao hugged and kissed her daughter, reluctant to release the fragrant, soft bundle. Yet she steeled herself and returned the child to the wet nurse. "Take her to the garden to play. I have matters to attend."
Listening to her daughter's babbling fade beyond the doorway, Li Jiubao proceeded to the study. She opened a half-read book on the desk, occasionally taking notes with a brush. Her calligraphy now differed dramatically from when she first entered the prince's residence.How could one rely on beauty to please others and expect it to last forever? Li Jiubao, whom everyone envied, harbored a deep sense of crisis. She was unwilling to be merely a tool for the bedchamber. While other concubines learned to play the qin, sing, dance, and massage—all manner of gentle, pleasing arts—Li Jiubao never ceased her studies of reading and writing.
She didn’t know what use these skills would be, but it was surely better than doing nothing, living as a pampered pet in a daze.
Born into a family of tile makers in the slums, the only reading material in Li Jiubao’s home was an almanac. Her childhood neighbor, Chen Jingji (Chen the Agent), taught her to recognize all the characters in the almanac, enabling her to keep accounts and understand contracts, so she wouldn’t be cheated as an illiterate.
When given a classic text, she could barely recognize most of the characters, let alone grasp their meaning. Over six years in the prince’s residence, Li Jiubao bore children one after another while slowly working her way through books. With the guidance of renowned teachers, she could now at least understand the meaning of the government decrees published in the Court Gazette.
"Side Consort Li, Scholar Zhang has sent new copybooks," a maid announced, carrying a stack of them.
"Bring them here quickly," Li Jiubao said with a smile. These were more precious to her than the clothes and jewelry bestowed by Yu Wang (Prince Yu) and Yu Wang Fei (Princess Yu). Scholar Zhang, named Zhang Juzheng, was from Jingzhou, Hubei. A distinguished scholar who had passed the imperial examinations at both provincial and national levels, he served as a director of the Imperial Academy and had many students. He was also a lecturer in the residence of Prince Yu.
Li Jiubao, of humble origins and nearly semi-literate, was diligent and eager to improve herself. She respected learned individuals and, during her self-study, benefited greatly from Zhang Juzheng’s guidance, making rapid progress.
Thus, when the young imperial grandson was only three years old, Li Jiubao strongly recommended Zhang Juzheng to Prince Yu to serve as the child’s tutor. Zhang Juzheng devoted himself wholeheartedly to the young grandson’s education, even painting and creating picture books to make learning enjoyable and engaging for the child.
By the age of four, the young imperial grandson already recognized several thousand characters and could read on his own.
Li Jiubao opened the copybooks sent by Zhang Juzheng. They contained templates written in his own hand, intended for the young grandson to trace over in red ink.
Li Jiubao placed immense importance on her eldest son’s education. Carrying the copybooks, she personally delivered them to the young imperial grandson’s study to urge him to practice his writing diligently. However, she found the study empty, with only the attendant eunuch cleaning the brushes the child had used.
"Where is Third Son?" Li Jiubao’s expression turned cold. At this hour, her son should have just woken from his nap and be reading by the window—the perfect time for study.
The eunuch hurriedly replied, "Just now, the princess took him to fly kites."
In the rear garden of Prince Yu’s residence, the sound of her son’s laughter could be heard from afar, filled with sheer delight.
The young imperial grandson was too small to fly kites himself. The large butterfly, centipede, beauty, and giant fish kites soaring in the sky were flown by maids and eunuchs. They fluttered noisily in the air, adorning the azure sky with a vibrant, lively display.
In a patch of lawn in the garden, lush and green like a piece of jade, stood various colored flags and holes. Princess Yu handed a curved-bottom club to the young imperial grandson, teaching him to play chuiwan.
The rules of chuiwan were quite similar to modern golf: players used the club to hit an egg-sized ball into holes on the lawn, repeatedly striking it—hence the name "hammer."
Princess Yu placed a chuiwan ball at the young imperial grandson’s feet and pointed to the nearest hole, marked with a red flag. "Use this club to knock the ball into the hole, and you win."
As she instructed, Princess Yu mimed swinging the club in her hand.
No four-year-old could resist the allure of play. The young imperial grandson imitated Princess Yu’s swing and, with one stroke, sent the ball into the hole."It went in! Princess, I got it in!" The little imperial grandson cheered, raising his stick.
Princess Yu ordered another ball to be placed, pointing at a hole with a red flag a bit further away. "Try this one."
The little imperial grandson swung excitedly again, but this time he used too much force and the direction was off. The small ball brushed past the red flag, whizzing as it rolled up a slope and then down, finally stopping before a horse face skirt with eggplant-colored water ripple patterns and woven gold at the knees.
Upon seeing his mother, Li Jiubao, the little imperial grandson's smile vanished, and the wooden stick fell from his hand.
Li Jiubao approached and bowed to Princess Yu.
Princess Yu personally helped Li Jiubao up. "You're pregnant again, so you must take good care of your health. All the hopes of Prince Yu's residence rest on your womb. It's windy today; why aren't you resting indoors? What brings you out?"
Li Jiubao replied, "I went to the study in the afternoon to check on Sanlang's progress with his writing, but he wasn't there, so I came out to look for him."
As she spoke, Li Jiubao looked at her son who had skipped his lessons.
The little imperial grandson, knowing he was in the wrong, couldn't bear his mother's gaze and instinctively hid behind Princess Yu.
Princess Yu reached out and patted the little imperial grandson's head to comfort him, smiling as she said, "I was the one who brought him out. I thought he liked kites, and today is perfect for flying them. He saw me playing chuíwǎn and was very curious, so I taught him a few moves. It's not his fault; I'm the one who delayed his studies."
How dare Li Jiubao blame Princess Yu? She quickly said, "How could there be any fault in Your Highness combining education with pleasure?"
Princess Yu noticed the stack of calligraphy copies held by the maid behind Li Jiubao and said, "Don't push the child too hard. At his age, it's important for him to grow physically—he needs more sleep, more running around, and more sun for good health. Nothing is more important than well-being."
"Besides, Sanlang already recognizes thousands of characters at just four years old and can even read to me. Even children from scholarly families aren't as advanced as he is. He's already learning very well. In a household like ours, we don't expect him to become a top scholar in the future. When he's tired from studying, let him out to play. Balance work with rest."
Since Princess Yu had spoken, Li Jiubao, as a concubine, could only listen and not argue. "Yes."
Li Jiubao had struggled her way up from the bottom. She hoped her son would receive the best education, read the classics of sages, and be close to virtuous officials while keeping away from petty people.
As for Princess Yu, who had given up on bearing children, the most important thing was for the little imperial grandson to live healthily. As the legal mother, the prosperity of Prince Yu's lineage would be credited to her. She didn't mind if the little imperial grandson's knowledge was shallow or mediocre—mediocre people were easier to control.
Moreover, children are naturally playful. Who would a child prefer: a concubine mother who constantly pushes him to study, or a legal mother who "rescues" him from heavy schoolwork to play?
Li Jiubao had the natural advantage of being his birth mother, which Princess Yu could never match. Only the bond formed through upbringing could compete with that.
Princess Yu pointed to a nearby pavilion. "Go rest over there. I'll teach Sanlang to play a few more balls, and you can take him back later."
"Yes." Li Jiubao obediently retreated to the pavilion, sitting within the windproof curtains as she watched her son play chuíwǎn with the Princess.
Li Jiubao slowly stroked her still-flat belly. Princess Yu clearly intended to interfere with her son's upbringing, raising him to be close to her and distant from his birth mother. As the Princess, she had every right to do so, and it was perfectly justified.But Li Jiubao truly refused to accept being merely a breeding tool—enduring the pain of multiple pregnancies just to bear sons for the princess consort! Ten months of pregnancy, a single day of labor, and even a full month of postpartum confinement couldn’t restore her. She needed at least a year to complete the birth of one child.
She had given so much, yet she was nothing but a disposable surrogate mother, like a polo ball struck into the hole, with countless other polo balls eagerly awaiting their turn to be hit.
Author’s Note: Empress Dowager Li: The Rise of an Underdog Surrogate Mother
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