Legendary Imperial Consort Li Tiezhu - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

In the summer of the twentieth year of Hongde, bearing the hopes of everyone in my county, I finally arrived in the capital, Nan’an, after a journey that took one month and five days.

Arriving at the same time as me were dozens of carriages from all across the country, each carrying young ladies from various prefectures who had been selected to take part in the imperial consort selection.

Our carriages entered the city one after another.

That day was clearly no auspicious date. When we were less than five li from the capital, the skies opened up in a torrential downpour, accompanied by endless, rumbling thunder.

Both the driver and I were very much looking forward to getting inside the city and settling down as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, heaven did not oblige. Just as my carriage was about to pass through the city gate, a bolt of lightning came crashing down from the sky and struck the carriage I was riding in dead-on.

At the critical moment, the driver displayed astonishing agility and leaped off the carriage. As for me, sitting inside, I knew absolutely nothing.

After a burst of blazing thunderfire…

The carriage was destroyed beyond recognition.

In the rain pouring down as if from overturned basins…

I sat there, stiff as a wooden chicken.

Completely unharmed.

It is difficult to describe what I felt at the time, because for a long while afterward, I remained in some sort of dazed, out-of-body state. I could eat and sleep, but I neither spoke nor responded.

By the time my soul finally returned to its proper place, I had unexpectedly passed the Ministry of Rites’ screening and was only waiting to enter the palace for the final selection before the Emperor.

The day I entered the palace was brilliantly clear.

Along with twenty-nine other candidates, I wore the same emerald-green dress as the rest of them. With no powder or rouge, looking plain and unadorned, we followed quietly and orderly behind the official leading us into the imperial city and arrived at the great hall where the final selection would take place.

Seated in the hall were the most honored people in the empire.

The Emperor, the Crown Prince, the Crown Princess, and the central figure in this selection: the Crown Grandson, Wei Yezhao.

My first impression of Wei Yezhao was a snort.

The moment I stepped into the hall, the solemn silence was broken by a loud snort of laughter.

Pfft.

Someone laughed.

Very loudly.

So loudly that I instinctively glanced, just for a moment, toward the source of the sound.

Seated in a chair on the lower right side of the hall was a youth in red robes. He had raised his sleeve to cover his mouth, and his whole body was trembling.

I quickly withdrew my gaze and, calm as still water, knelt before the imposing, indistinct figure above.

“This commoner, Li Tiezhu, pays respects to the Emperor.”

In stark contrast to my calm, His Majesty the Emperor was visibly excited. In a tone filled with pleasant surprise, he said three words to me.

“So it was you?”

It was only much later that I learned why those three words had appeared in that particular context.

It began with the day I was struck by lightning.

On the day of the incident, because the Ministry of Rites attached great importance to the candidates in the selection, they immediately sent people to the scene to investigate.

According to reports, the lightning’s original target should have been the gate tower at the main entrance of Nan’an. But to everyone’s amazement, the bolt, which had originally been heading straight for the tower, suddenly changed course when it was only ten meters from its target. With a slight turn, it struck the carriage that was entering the city instead.

This made it hard not to wonder whether some mysterious power in the unseen world was protecting the gate tower, protecting Nan’an, and protecting our Great Zhao.

Even more astonishing was the fact that after the carriage, which had taken the blow on Great Zhao’s behalf, was smashed to pieces, the person sitting inside it was completely unharmed-and displayed an extraordinary level of composure.

The eyewitnesses interviewed described the incident and my reaction in vivid detail.

Nine out of ten said that I had “sat upright, my expression unchanged.” The tenth added one more sentence: “Her body was glowing.”

The investigators from the Ministry of Rites reported the contents of their interviews truthfully, including the line, “Her body was glowing.”

By coincidence, at that very same time, an official from the Imperial Observatory, who was performing divination regarding the selection of the Crown Grandson’s Consort, also obtained a result at the instant the lightning fell: the hexagram was Zhen. Zhen means thunder. This foretold that the future Crown Grandson’s Consort would be a young lady connected to thunder.

Once this information reached His Majesty’s ears, he was greatly pleased and insisted on meeting this legendary Miss Tiezhu, who seemed to carry some mysterious auspicious blessing with her.

So when I stood before him, he spoke in delighted surprise. “It’s you!”

At the time, however, I did not understand the meaning behind those three characters. I could only maintain a respectful posture and answer, “It is indeed this common girl.”

His Majesty burst into hearty laughter, then immediately asked me a question.

“Li Tiezhu, do you have any talents?”

I had no idea that I was the only candidate that day who was asked about her talents. Before this, no one had warned us that the final selection would actually require a talent performance.

My palms began to sweat.

It was shameful to admit.

Although my father could be considered somewhat accomplished in the field of literature, I personally had never set foot in any artistic domain.

My father had once tried to cultivate me in literature. He used his own work, Lao Sao, or Lament, as the core text for my refinement. But no matter how patiently he instructed me, I could only remember two lines from it:

My father forges iron, ah,

And I forge iron too.

I was panicking inside. Time was slipping by bit by bit, and His Majesty was waiting patiently.

In that moment of desperation, inspiration struck. I remembered that I did possess one skill that could barely be called a talent.

So I answered, “This common girl can perform Shulaibao.”

Shulaibao was a folk performing art beloved by the common people. Its practitioners were mainly professional beggars and monks from temples.

The reason I had been able to come into contact with and master this art was thanks to an old beggar who often came to our house for food when I was a child.

Compared to my father’s solemn literary work, Lao Sao, or Lament, the bamboo clappers in the old beggar’s hands and the lyrics in his mouth were obviously far more attractive to my young self. I learned the skill extremely quickly, to the point that my father once doubted his own teaching abilities.

The already quiet great hall grew even quieter. From the corner of my eye, I saw that the young man in the red robe had stopped trembling as well. Gazes from every direction converged on me.

His Majesty gave an “oh,” waved his hand, and said, “Come on! Sing a piece for Us!”

The performance tools were quickly delivered into my hands.

Holding the bamboo clappers, I cleared my throat, composed my expression, and began to sing with lively enthusiasm:

“Hey! Hey!

The bamboo clappers fly, the bamboo clappers rise.

The Eight Immortals travel east, miracles before our eyes.

Iron-Crutch Li sells medicine from his gourd,

Han Zhongli turns his palm-leaf fan into a boat aboard.

Patriarch Lü’s precious sword can summon flying dragons,

Zhang Guolao folds paper and rides his donkey backward.

Immortal Maiden He comes bearing lotus flowers,

Lan Caihe sings and dances through the hours.

Royal Uncle Cao holds his jade tablet high,

Han Xiangzi plays his flute across the sky.

Why have the Eight Immortals gathered here today?

To aid Emperor Hongde of our Great Zhao, hurray!

Emperor Hongde, sixteen years through wind and rain.

Through wind and rain, through blades and flame.

He drove out the Tartars, restored Cathay, saved the people, set the laws in place!

The four seas are calm, the Yellow River runs clear; from now on there is meat on the beams, fish in the moat, clothes on our backs, rice in the jars, cheer after cheer!

The Eight Immortals all assist Lord Hongde’s reign, restoring to Great Zhao a good! Heaven! And! Earth!”

I had been focused on my performance. Only when my voice fell did I realize there was another crisp rhythm of clappers echoing mine from afar.

When I stopped, His Majesty stopped as well.

He laughed with utter satisfaction, then said something that would have cost anyone else their head.

“Back when We were begging for food, this was what We were best at!”

The selection officially came to an end in an atmosphere of mutual delight.

I had shielded Great Zhao from a lightning tribulation and emerged completely unharmed. I closely matched the will implied by Heaven’s signs. On top of that, my artistic tastes were infinitely close to His Majesty the Emperor’s.

All of this made one thing clear:

I, the young maiden Li Tiezhu,

was the one and only choice for Crown Grandson’s Consort.