Since others are unreliable, one can only rely on oneself.
She may not be able to wield power nor necessarily gain political influence, but if she could master the art of commerce, she would be able to amass considerable wealth in the future.
She firmly believed that with the comfort that money provides, one could live calmly and with dignity.
Seeing her determination, General Shang Ji finally relented.
“Since Madam is willing to give it a try,” he said, his tone softening, “then let us hear what Eldest Sister-in-law thinks. But if she refuses, don’t let it trouble you.”
Du Jingyi smiled gently.
“Don’t worry, General. I’ve helped my parents manage their business for years and met all kinds of people. Even if Eldest Sister-in-law disagrees, I won’t make things difficult for myself.”
“That’s good,” he replied simply.
After reaching this agreement, the couple moved on to other topics.
At that moment, Madam Liu (Shang Ji’s eldest sister-in-law) and Shang Zhiping (his nephew) were still in Fuqiu Courtyard, packing their belongings — unaware of the twists of fate awaiting them.
After a night of restful sleep, dawn arrived, and it was time for Du Jingyi to enter the palace for her audience.
Her attire today was far more formal than yesterday’s.
However, her two personal maids, Lizhu (“Pearl of Plum”) and Yingtao (“Cherry Peach”), remembered the General’s instructions — avoid ostentation and emphasize quiet elegance instead.
As a result, Du Jingyi carried herself that morning with the poise and grace befitting a lady of noble rank.
She rode in the imperial carriage bestowed upon General Shang Ji by the Emperor himself — a mark of honor that ensured her ride was smooth and dignified.
Yingtao and Lizhu sat on either side, nervous yet thrilled.
Three years ago, neither could have imagined they would one day enter the imperial palace — to meet the most exalted woman in the land, the Empress Dowager. Their heart now fluttered with excitement and reverence, and they had to consciously steady their breathing.
Du Jingyi, however, maintained a calm composure and had not lost her serene smile since departing their residence.
The morning wind blew through the carriage curtains, lifting them gently.
Through the opening, she could see her husband Shang Ji galloping beside her carriage, his expression solemn and focused.
Warmth rose within her chest.
Yesterday, he had told her that the Emperor had not summoned her — yet today, he had awakened early, claiming he had to report on military matters.
Perhaps that was true, yet she knew part of his reason was concern for her safety and reputation.
For that, she felt deeply grateful.
Perhaps because he was accompanying her, she too felt at ease.
The carriage traveled smoothly, and within half an hour the towering Imperial City (the innermost walled enclosure of the capital where the Emperor resided) came into view.
Imperial guards stood vigilantly before the gates. Upon seeing General Shang Ji, they straightened at once and saluted with full respect.
“We greet the General!”
“At ease,” he replied curtly.
Luo Yuan, his aide-de-camp, spurred his horse forward and explained to the guards,
“The General has matters of military importance to report to His Majesty, and the General’s wife has received a summons from the Empress Dowager. Please grant passage.”
At once, the commander of the gate stepped aside, bowing deeply.
From the outer city gate to the inner palace entrance, their journey was smooth and unhindered.
When the carriage finally stopped before the Yuding Gate — one of the main entrances to the inner court — Shang Ji reined in his horse and turned toward the carriage.
“Come down, Madam,” he said gently. “The Empress Dowager has sent a sedan chair to receive you.”
Du Jingyi blinked in mild surprise but quickly composed herself. Taking a steady breath, she alighted with the help of Yingtao and Lizhu.
Shang Ji extended his hand to assist her. Though his gesture was far more restrained than in private, she still felt a faint shyness — perhaps because numerous palace attendants were watching.
Sure enough, a middle-aged eunuch with a courteous smile approached and bowed deeply.
“Your servant humbly greets General Shang and the Young Madam.”
Shang Ji recognized him immediately and smiled faintly.
“Eunuch Hu, there’s no need for such formality. You are the Chief Eunuch serving by Her Majesty’s side. Even before my late father, you would not need to bow so low.”
His words subtly revealed the eunuch’s high rank — and also reminded everyone present that Du Jingyi should treat this man with cautious respect.
Those few words carried an unspoken warning: Do not underestimate him.
Eunuch Hu chuckled warmly.
“General Shang jests — this humble one does not deserve such praise.”
Shang Ji continued without delay,
“Eunuch Hu, you are too courteous. I have urgent matters to report to His Majesty, so I must take my leave. When the Empress Dowager’s audience is concluded, please send someone to inform me. I shall wait to escort my wife home.”
The eunuch clasped his hands together and said with a grin,
“No wonder people say the General and the Young Madam are a match made in heaven. Seeing you both today, I must agree — you are well-matched and devoted. If the Empress Dowager were to hear such words, she would be most pleased.”
Throughout their exchange, Du Jingyi stood quietly at her husband’s side, maintaining perfect posture — her demeanor neither arrogant nor humble.
She did not interrupt, nor did she fidget.
Inwardly, she reviewed the etiquette lessons her father had once paid a great sum to have a strict Retired Palace Mama teach her those lessons now proving invaluable.
Eunuch Hu, seasoned by decades in the palace, easily recognized the nervous restraint beneath her calm exterior. Smiling kindly, he said,
“Young Madam, please follow this old servant. Her Majesty the Empress Dowager and Madam Xing are in Changchun Palace, boiling snow water for tea and awaiting your arrival.”
Hearing that her Aunt Xing was also present, Du Jingyi felt a flicker of reassurance. After exchanging a look with her husband, she replied gracefully,
“Please, Eunuch Hu, lead the way.”
“This way, please,” the eunuch said, bowing.
Du Jingyi stepped into the sedan chair. The curtain fell, and she heard Eunuch Hu’s crisp command outside,
“Lift the sedan!”
The chair swayed slightly, then moved forward in smooth rhythm.
Yingtao and Lizhu walked on either side, their heads lowered in solemn attention, following the sedan toward the inner palace — the Harem Quarter (Neiting Neigong, where the Empress and imperial consorts resided).
Shang Ji, watching the sedan disappear around a corner, turned to his aide.
“Let’s go. I’ll see His Majesty now.”
“Yes, General,” Luo Yuan replied calmly — he had accompanied his commander into the palace countless times and was long accustomed to the strict routines within these vermilion walls.
The palace paths had been freshly swept — not a trace of snow remained. The cold northern wind howled through the eaves, casting the entire imperial city into a solemn, frigid stillness.
After roughly half an hour’s journey, Du Jingyi’s sedan finally stopped before the gates of Changchun Palace (Palace of Eternal Spring — the historical residence of the Empress Dowager in the Forbidden City, located to the west of the main axis).
When the sedan curtains lifted, she stepped down carefully. Before her stood the magnificent complex that countless women of the empire dreamed of entering.
Even from outside its high vermilion walls, one could feel its dignity and power.
Eunuch Hu stepped forward respectfully and gestured for her to follow.
Her two maids, Yingtao and Lizhu, followed closely behind, their movements precise and cautious.
The master and servants crossed the threshold of Changchun Palace after each other , careful not to let their gazes wander — yet even a fleeting glance revealed splendor beyond imagination.
Facing south, the palace stood upon a raised white marble terrace (baiyu tai), seven bays wide and five bays deep. Its triple-tiered roof gleamed with green glazed tiles (liuli wa), symbolizing purity and renewal.
The columns beneath the eaves rested upon lotus-carved stone bases, while the ceilings were painted with auspicious motifs — phoenixes, cranes, clouds, and pomegranates — all symbols of longevity and prosperity.
A nanmu (a rare golden-hued hardwood valued in Chinese architecture) flower canopy carved with coiling dragons adorned the veranda.
Passing through the hanging flower gate on the western side, they entered a vast inner courtyard.
At its center stood an octagonal white jade pedestal, upon which rested a massive Taihu Lake rock — a porous, contorted limestone prized in traditional Chinese gardens (gongshi), admired for its abstract beauty.
Its hollows and curves changed appearance with every step, like shifting clouds.
For most people, even a fragment of Taihu rock the size of a fingertip would be a family treasure, yet here it was merely part of the scenery.
Such was the magnificence of Changchun Palace, home to the most powerful woman in the empire.