The Prisoner of Beauty

In the sixth month, Wei Shao ascended the throne in Luoyang, proclaiming himself emperor and establishing the Yan dynasty with the era name Taihe.

Though the realm was unified, the Central Plains had suffered years of war, leaving the people impoverished and the land in ruins. At the dawn of the Great Yan dynasty, countless tasks awaited attention.

The emperor continued the lenient policies he had adopted while ruling the north, abolishing the harsh laws of the previous dynasty and reducing taxes and corvée labor, allowing the people to recuperate. He also encouraged agriculture and sericulture, promoted water conservancy projects, and placed particular emphasis on managing the Yellow River. The riverbed in its middle and lower reaches had long been silted up, raising it higher than the surrounding dwellings and creating a perilous situation akin to a suspended river. To address this, the emperor summoned experts in river management. Later, he and the empress traveled incognito to Mount Dang.

The mentor of Chancellor Gongsun Yang, the elderly Bai Shi, had retired to this mountain. The previous year, Qiao Ping had sought him out to treat an eye ailment. Bai Shi, compassionate and skilled, took him in. Now, Qiao Ping also resided on the mountain, living in a thatched cottage beside the old man, half in seclusion and half in treatment.

The emperor and empress journeyed into the mountains not only to visit Qiao Ping but also to seek Bai Shi’s counsel on flood control strategies.

The emperor had thought to consult Bai Shi because years ago, during their first encounter in Huainan, a dike had been in peril, and the old man had devised a timely plan to repair it and avert disaster.

Though many years had passed, the incident left a deep impression on the emperor, who had never forgotten it. Hence, he now came to seek advice.

Bai Shi was a descendant of the Mohist school and had spent half his life traveling the land. In addition to his mastery of medicine, he had extensive knowledge of engineering, especially regarding water conservancy, which he knew was vital to the people’s welfare. The Yellow River, with its winding middle and lower reaches and soil erosion, had long been fraught with hidden dangers. Since ancient times, it had breached its banks and changed course multiple times, leaving endless calamities in its wake. Thus, in his earlier travels, Bai Shi had studied the river’s waterways extensively. However, the previous court had shown no interest in flood control, and later, as the realm descended into chaos with warlords carving up territories, the river’s siltation was left unchecked. Though Bai Shi had the will to aid the world, he lacked the means to act alone. Now that a new ruler had ascended the throne and took the Yellow River’s perils seriously, the old man felt both moved and gratified. Though too aged to personally oversee the river’s management, he spared no effort in imparting his lifelong insights to the emperor. He also recommended a local river official named Xu Mian, whom he had met during his travels to Caoyang. Though merely a minor official, Xu Mian cared deeply for the people and had a remarkable grasp of flood control. The emperor, Bai Shi suggested, could promote and employ him.

Delighted, the emperor spent the night in deep conversation with Bai Shi, not resting until dawn. Upon returning to court, he immediately summoned Xu Mian to Luoyang.

Under the previous dynasty, there had been two paths to officialdom: recruitment by decree and recommendation. Initially, these methods had served to attract talent, but over time, they became mere formalities. Officials appointed based on nepotism, and the buying and selling of official posts became commonplace. Those with genuine ability and dedication found it nearly impossible to rise.

Xu Mian came from a humble background and had spent half his life as a minor official overseeing river works in Caoyang. Though capable and devoted to the people, his repeated proposals for flood control and river management had been ignored by the court. Disheartened, he had resigned himself to obscurity—until the dynasty changed hands. Not long after the new emperor’s ascension, for reasons unknown to Xu Mian, an imperial decree summoned him to court.

For a commoner to be recruited by the emperor was known as "summoning a lord’s servant," an immense honor for the recipient.

With a mix of joy and trepidation, Xu Mian hastened to Luoyang. Summoned to the Southern Palace for an audience, he spoke with the emperor at length. The next day, an edict promoted him to Grand Minister of Agriculture, placing him in charge of water conservancy for the Yellow and Huai rivers, effective immediately.Xu Mian, after half a lifetime of aspirations, finally saw his ambitions realized. Kneeling in gratitude, he tearfully hailed the emperor, then devoted himself wholeheartedly to flood control upon arriving at his post. Over many years, he dredged silt, expanded rivers, and reinforced dikes, ultimately eliminating the threat of breaches and flooding along the middle and lower reaches of the Yellow River. Simultaneously, the diversion of water through dams irrigated millions of acres of farmland across dozens of counties in eastern Yu and southwestern Lu, transforming the region into fertile land where people could live and work in peace. Xu Mian was not only revered locally as "Lord Xu" but also repeatedly commended by the imperial court.

At court, civil governance was supported by virtuous officials such as Chancellor Gongsun Yang, Imperial Censor-in-Chief Wei Quan, and Minister of the Imperial Treasury Zhu Zeng. On the military front, Grand Marshal Li Dian guarded Youzhou, General Wei Liang defended Xiliang, and Colonel Qiao Ci, the Pacifier of the Qiang, protected Bingzhou. The Green-Eyed General Bi Zhi, having rendered meritorious service in quelling southern rebellions and aiding the emperor’s rise, was enfeoffed as Marquis of Jiujiang and stationed to secure the southern borders.

The emperor took no concubines, instead elevating the Qiao Family as his empress, remaining steadfastly devoted to her.

All knew that Empress Qiao was not only peerlessly beautiful but also the emperor’s wise and capable partner. Years earlier, when the emperor was campaigning south and faced a sudden Xiongnu attack at Yuyang, it was Empress Qiao who, fearless of death, personally ascended the city walls to rally soldiers and civilians, ultimately saving Yuyang. Her heroic deeds became legendary, celebrated far and wide.

In the second year of the emperor’s reign, during the first month, the court announced a new policy: the imperial examination system would supplement the existing selection process for officials. Henceforth, anyone with talent and a desire to serve the court could voluntarily participate in the examinations, with the court selecting the best candidates for official posts. A trial examination was held first to assess its effectiveness. If successful, the old recommendation-based system would be abolished entirely, replaced by the imperial examinations as the sole method for selecting talent.

From the day the decree was issued, the unfamiliar term "imperial examinations" became the talk of the streets. Countless scholars from humble backgrounds were overjoyed, unable to sleep for nights on end. This meant they no longer had to wait endlessly for the slim chance of a local official’s recommendation to secure a position. Many truly talented individuals had spent their entire lives without ever receiving such an opportunity. Now, with this groundbreaking system, their dreams were at least a step closer to realization.

Shortly after the decree, the court held its first trial examination that same year. Tens of thousands reportedly volunteered nationwide. After successive rounds of selection, the finalists underwent a palace examination in the Hall of Eternal Splendor, producing the first cohort of successful candidates in the dynasty’s history—indeed, the first in recorded history.

These successful candidates, all brilliant and intellectually vibrant, excelled in their appointed roles, with many later rising to become key ministers of the court.

Years later, the imperial examination system completely replaced the millennium-old recommendation system, becoming the dynasty’s sole method for selecting talent.

It is said that Empress Qiao was the first to propose the imperial examinations and persuaded the emperor and his ministers to adopt them.

Thus, for a long time thereafter, Empress Qiao became a goddess-like legend in the hearts of scholars across the land. Many vied to compose poems and rhapsodies in her honor, with numerous works gaining widespread fame. To pass the examinations and receive a toast from Empress Qiao at the palace banquet became the dream of countless scholars.The reputation of Empress Qiao was well-known throughout Luoyang and beyond. However, as gossip spread, it wasn’t long before the most talked-about topic in the city’s streets and alleys shifted from her virtuousness to the emperor’s fear of his wife.

Rumors claimed that even before ascending the throne, when he was still Marquis Yan in Youzhou, the emperor had already gained a reputation for being henpecked. It was said that under Empress Qiao’s prohibition, he dared not take in any beauties. Now, with the imperial harem empty save for the empress and no Crown Prince born yet, the emperor still refused to expand his harem—nine times out of ten, it wasn’t just fear of his wife, but a deep-seated fear at that.

If these rumors were true, then the founding emperor of Great Yan was not only the foremost man in the realm but also the most henpecked.

The common folk delighted in such gossip about the imperial couple, not out of malice but sheer astonishment and the natural human tendency to be drawn to scandal—especially when it involved the private affairs of the exalted emperor and empress. Who wouldn’t be intrigued? The rumors spread so widely that they eventually circled back into the palace, even reaching the ears of court officials.

Among the old generals and ministers who had followed the emperor in founding the empire, opinions about the imperial couple’s relationship were divided. Some, like Gongsun Yang, believed the emperor refrained from taking concubines out of deep affection for the empress. Others, like Wei Quan, secretly thought the emperor was genuinely henpecked. While they might have tolerated it before, now that even the commoners knew, it somewhat tarnished the emperor’s dignity. Yet, despite their differing views, all of them understood the sensitivity of the matter and were wise enough not to bring it up to the emperor’s face.

However, a few former officials from the previous dynasty, unaware that one should not provoke a sleeping tiger—and perhaps harboring hopes of sending their daughters into the harem—went so far as to submit a lengthy memorial. Quoting ancient texts and historical precedents, they argued that "the Son of Heaven should take twelve consorts, symbolizing the twelve months, with three noble ladies and nine concubines," and citing the fact that the imperial couple had only one princess, they urged the emperor to take consorts and expand the harem.

The next day, the memorial was returned with a single vermilion note in the emperor’s hand: "Are you cursing Us to have no sons?"

The terrified ministers hastily submitted letters of apology, begging for forgiveness.

From then on, no one in the court dared mention the harem again.

According to another rumor, the emperor later boasted to Empress Qiao about how he had handled the matter, seeking her praise. The empress, upon hearing it, merely laughed it off.

The imperial couple held deep affection for Xindu, a place of special significance to them. The emperor ordered the restoration of Xindu’s Sandalwood Terrace, renaming it "Jiaxin Palace" to serve as a secondary palace outside Luoyang. On several subsequent tours of the realm, the imperial couple stopped and stayed in Xindu.

From its very first day, the Great Yan dynasty entered an era of enlightened governance and harmony. Later official histories would lavish praise on the founding emperor and empress, describing them as a "wise ruler and virtuous consort."As for the common folk, the founding emperor was young and heroic, while those fortunate enough to have glimpsed Empress Qiao up close spread tales of her breathtaking beauty—so radiant that one might mistake her for a celestial being at first sight. Such a divine couple naturally carried an air of legend. Add to this the widely circulated notion of the emperor being "henpecked," and the private lives of the imperial pair behind their majestic titles became all the more mysterious, hidden as they were behind the palace's towering walls.

Eager to satisfy public curiosity, gossipmongers, unofficial historians, and storytellers spun wild tales out of thin air. Yet no matter how vivid their imaginations, how could they possibly know the truth?

What follows is drawn entirely from the imperial couple's daily records. The author has neither added nor omitted a single detail, presenting these accounts strictly in chronological order for the reader's enjoyment.

The first episode begins with the inaugural imperial examination of the Taihe era.