Between the two, Wang Zhi was more outstanding.
When the Emperor established the Western Factory Brocade Guard, Wang Zhi, who had followed Wan Zhen’er since childhood and become her trusted and capable assistant, obtained the position of Chief Eunuch. To repay Wan Zhen’er’s kindness and promotion, Wang Zhi implemented the principle of repaying a drop of kindness with a spring of water. For his master Wan Zhen’er, he was willing to take significant actions that would make people uneasy, such as launching trials, fabricating charges, persecuting loyal officials, capturing targets from royal mansions to the common people.
He probably went a bit too far, and Wang Zhi’s reputation was not good.
It was widely spread: “Today people know of Eunuch Wang, but not of the Emperor.”
These rumors were eagerly repeated by some, parroted to the Emperor. The Emperor just listened but paid no attention, treating them like a dog’s bark. How could one believe others’ words so easily? Everyone loves to stir up chaos – except for Wan Zhen’er.
The Emperor’s love for Wan Zhen’er had become obsessive.
People say that lovers’ intelligence equals zero. The Emperor’s intelligence was probably negative. Towards Wan Zhen’er, he always felt like he was in the throes of passionate love, unable to be happy without her. The Emperor stubbornly held onto his truth, believing that only Wan Zhen’er truly loved him, and no one was as good to him as she was.
Therefore, he turned a blind eye to all of Wan Zhen’er’s faults.
Wang Zhi was Wan Zhen’er’s dog.
With devoted followers and capable assistants, the small followers also needed to develop. Their main task was to do undercover work, or crudely put, “eating inside and climbing outside.” This was directed at people outside of her.
“Undercover work” required a large number of personnel, composed of eunuchs and palace maids, distributed across various departments, including the Emperor’s department and those of his wives and concubines. Any wind or grass movement had to be reported promptly, letting Wan Zhen’er understand their every move and firmly control the inner palace.
Wan Zhen’er’s precious son was sick, with a fever, accompanied by cold limbs and a grayish complexion. This had been going on for several days. The high fever not only did not subside but had also led to convulsions. The duration of these episodes varied, sometimes long, sometimes short, recurring repeatedly.
The imperial physician said that the prince was suffering from external evil qi that had entered and transformed into heat.
Imperial physicians came and went, replaced by batch after batch. The son’s condition did not improve; in fact, it was getting worse. The imperial physicians had exhausted all methods, whether traditional Chinese medicine or acupuncture, to no avail.
Wan Zhen’er was anxious like an ant on a hot pan, spinning around. How could she not be anxious? She had finally given birth to a son, and the pain was unbearable. This was a piece of flesh that had fallen from her own body. More importantly, this precious son was her hope, her support, her guarantee of future happiness.
In her state of distraction and extreme anxiety, Wan Zhen’er suddenly remembered how, when the Emperor was young and had a fever with no physicians around, she would often take a wet towel and wipe the Emperor’s body. With this thought, the furrows in her brow slightly relaxed. She called a palace maid, brought water and a towel, and began to wipe her son’s body.
The son was thin and weak due to frequent illness. Seemingly in great discomfort, he kept his eyes tightly closed and cried continuously. His cries were like an iron hammer, repeatedly striking Wan Zhen’er’s heart. Wan Zhen’er stood nearby, gesturing and instructing the palace maid how to do things.
Eventually, finding the maid’s movements too slow, she snatched the towel.
Wan Zhen’er shouted: “Fool, can’t you do this?”
The young palace maid, terrified, knelt down and kowtowed repeatedly: “Forgive me, Your Highness! Forgive me!”
Wan Zhen’er had no time to punish her. She took her son, grabbed the towel, and began wiping him herself. She wiped gently and tenderly, just as she had wiped the Emperor when he was young. The Emperor stood nearby, helpless. He asked: “My love, will this work?”
Wan Zhen’er said: “It has to work!”
The Emperor said: “Should we have the physicians try acupuncture again?”
Wan Zhen’er, with bloodshot eyes, roared: “Those physicians are all useless! They’ve been treating our child for days with no effect!”
The Emperor dared not speak again.
I, declare: I, Zhu Jianshen, will not go and favor other concubines! I will be single-minded and be with Wan Guifei. Any son born by Wan Guifei, I will definitely establish as crown prince! If I break this oath, may heaven strike me with lightning!”
Wan Zhen’er did not fully believe the Emperor’s oath.
In front of Wan Zhen’er, he showed absolute loyalty; but behind her back, when seeing young and beautiful temptresses, he would immediately be tempted, acting like a scoundrel, having improper relations and pressing them underneath him, instantly kicking his oath to Wan Zhen’er to the other side of the sky.
Wan Zhen’er understood that the Emperor’s infidelity was merely hormonal, not the power of love.
Despite burning with jealousy and consuming jar after jar of vinegar, Wan Zhen’er had to remain composed on the surface. She was not stupid enough to know she could not anger the Emperor, as even a clay Bodhisattva could have temper.
All she could do was run to bed with the Emperor after sunset, using all her skills to appear energetic, working hard to cultivate their sexual interests, hoping to master the thirty-six sexual positions.
Wan Zhen’er felt she was approaching near-madness. The Emperor enthusiastically cooperated. To make Wan Zhen’er’s belly grow, no matter how violent or extreme, the Emperor was willing.
However, there were so many women in the imperial harem, each young and beautiful, and any of them standing next to the Emperor would look like a perfect match – except for Wan Zhen’er. She knew that standing next to the spirited Emperor, she was like an old woman, not even worthy of carrying his shoes.
The only way to truly capture the Emperor’s heart would be if she could miraculously produce an heir. But no matter how hard Wan Zhen’er tried, her belly remained stubbornly empty.
Seeing Wan Zhen’er’s dejection, her sycophants immediately understood the situation. The first to jump out and help Wan Zhen’er was her “nephew” Wan An. The grand scholar, instead of doing proper work, shamelessly searched for bedroom techniques and secret methods.
He didn’t keep these high-difficulty bedroom moves to himself but generously shared them with his “aunt” and “uncle,” hoping they would quickly produce a “nephew” who would call him “uncle.”
His confidant Liang Fang was not to be outdone. Although he had been castrated when young, he could still imagine the pleasures. So he enthusiastically found a monk named Ji Xiao, an expert in bedroom arts and selling aphrodisiacs, who personally taught the Emperor and Wan Zhen’er that the standard 36 positions were child’s play—if they were going to learn, they should learn the intense 72 positions.
But the Emperor liked it, and Wan Zhen’er loved it.
Unable to deal with the Emperor, wouldn’t she target his concubines? Her massive “spy” organization could finally be put to use. Those spies loyal to Wan Zhenyi monitored the Emperor’s every move, not sparing even his meals or bathroom visits, let alone which fox spirit’s bed he might be in.
Wan Zhenyi was determined to see her plan through to the end.
No poison, no woman.
Who cares if the Emperor slept with her?
