It wasn’t that Shen Yuanxin looked down on Shen Yuantang—she simply didn’t dare.
In Dongchuan, she had people protecting her. Back in the capital, she still had protection. After everything she’d been through, Shen Yuantang’s little schemes weren’t even worth considering in her eyes.
Ignoring Shen Yuantang’s dark expression, Shen Yuanxin briskly headed to the main hall.
Things were different now—she would never let her marriage be casually promised again.
…
The last incident in the southwest had delayed many governmental reforms, particularly in the area of women’s civil and military examinations. Without Shen Lanxi leading the charge, no official dared push the matter forward.
Now, at the start of her reign, Shen Lanxi took the opportunity to recruit talent under the banner of “benefiting all under heaven” and revived the women’s imperial examinations.
“Ministers, does anyone have objections?”
“If you have objections, speak freely. I am willing to discuss them with you!”
Who would dare object?
The deaths of the previous remonstrating officials were still an unsolved case.
Che Mingyuan led the way: “Your Majesty, I approve.”
Liu Mingxin: “I, this old minister, approve!”
Mei Nanhua: “I, this old minister, approve as well!”
Wu Yanzhi: “I also approve!”
The three senior ministers all nodded, and the remaining officials could only echo their approval.
Shen Lanxi smiled: “With unity between the court and the frontlines, under our joint efforts, we will surely usher in a bright and prosperous era!”
The officials were all held on edge—some forced smiles, some looked relaxed, and some schemed silently.
After court, Shen Lanxi invited the old patriarch and a few close ministers to go incognito among the people.
By mid-morning, news that women could now take the civil and military examinations had already spread quickly among the populace.
Her purpose in leaving the palace was to observe the public’s reaction firsthand.
“Can women really earn official positions?”
“After passing, will they be allowed to hold office?”
“Women holding office? Preposterous!”
“Even if women take the exams, they can’t compete with men. What a waste of time.”
“Probably very few women will even register. Our capital is relatively open, but elsewhere, girls are treated like grass—they can barely get enough to eat. How could their families afford to send them to school?”
“In many places, girls are expected to help with household chores once they’re slightly older. Even if there were free schools, their families wouldn’t let them go.”
“Our capital is different—the emperor’s enlightened rule raises the status of women here. Other places are not the same.”
“Our emperor is good, but expecting all women under heaven to be enlightened and capable is impossible!”
Shen Lanxi and her entourage sat at a tea stall, listening carefully to every comment.
Mr. Ruo Hua and Ji Xiuran arrived alongside her.
Surprised to see Shen Lanxi among the commoners, they prepared to bow, but she stopped them.
“No need for formalities—sit and have some tea.”
Ji Xiuran asked cautiously, “Your Majesty, are you unguarded among the people?”
Shen Lanxi smiled: “To manage a great family, you must first listen to the household and understand their hearts.”
Ji Xiuran’s eyes brightened. “That is exactly why we came too—to hear these voices firsthand.”
Mr. Ruo Hua added: “No one in the capital opposes this initiative; they all praise it as enlightened.”
It was noon, and clusters of schoolgirls and young women roamed the streets.
Some carried satchels, others held brushes and ink, walking alongside boys. In the past, girls from strict households either wore veils or stayed home entirely.
The change was remarkable.
Ji Xiuran said: “Many girls have already registered for the examinations. Only a few hesitate, but in a couple of days, their families will likely accompany them to register as well.”
Shen Lanxi nodded, smiling: “Has your daughter registered, Lord Ji?”
Ji Xiuran was momentarily surprised, then replied bashfully: “Yes—my daughter was the first to register.”
Shen Lanxi: “I’ve heard that your daughter is well-known for her talents in the capital, recognized as a gifted young lady.”
“And the daughters of Lord Liu, Lord Wu, and the old grand teacher’s family—each is comparable to a top scholar!”
Although “top scholar” was slightly exaggerated, many parents liked hearing such praise.
“Enough, Your Majesty. My daughter is too straightforward. Every day she studies the Great Zhou Code; it truly worries this old minister,” Liu Mingxin said, smiling indulgently.
Ji Xiuran: “My daughter too—her favorite is the Great Zhou Code. She studies especially the regulations on concubine taxation, several times a day.”
Shen Lanxi generously praised them: “If they enter the court as officials, they will surely contribute to the Great Zhou legal system.”
Some officials smiled wryly, others pondered.
For women, holding office as palace attendants was already extraordinary.
Criminal law, however, was the domain of men. Tens of thousands of articles, countless volumes—their memory and resolve had to match.
Women, delicate in thought, could not match men’s capacity. Memorizing so many statutes was harder than climbing to heaven.
Moreover, dealing with criminal law required a hard heart—men’s hearts were like iron, while women’s would show mercy. Harsh sentences might be lightened, throwing the law into disorder.
Shen Lanxi observed each official’s reaction carefully. Upon returning, she convened her advisors to plan, and the next morning at court, she publicly announced:
“I have decided to establish the Criminal Law Bureau. Officials entering it must hold credentials and be well-versed in the Great Zhou Code.”
“The bureau’s main responsibility is to amend legal loopholes. Cases that cannot be judged may also be handled by the bureau.”
“The bureau will review files from the Ministry of Punishments and the Censorate, offering final revisions or raising questions.”
The final point:
“The bureau reports directly to me. Any miscarriage of justice may be appealed directly to the throne.”
The officials were bewildered—did the emperor intend to emulate previous dynasties, cultivating loyalists to monitor the court?
Many shivered. After court, they summoned their clerks to scrub every trace of previous misdeeds.
“Clean up all past mistakes. No one must have evidence to hold against us!”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
While the women’s examinations stirred excitement across the capital, Shen Lanxi received another secret message from Jinmen:
“Zhou Ruyuan and Wang Xiangyi have married.”
“Your Majesty, the opportunity has come!”
Shen Lanxi sneered: “Tomorrow’s front-page report will say: ‘Zhou Ruyuan married the scheming widow Wang Xiangyi to secure the power of Jinmen.’”
Che Mingyuan, hearing such a sensational statement, was shocked: “Your Majesty, do you really intend to report it this way?”
This was the official court gazette, not a small tabloid printing scandalous gossip.
“Exactly. Zhou Ruyuan did it—our report is truthful!”
Indeed.
As for Wang Xiangyi, her reputation in the capital was already poor—and even worse in Jinmen.
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