Chapter 71: Influence

Li Zhi’s deep and resonant voice echoed throughout the Qianyuan Palace, reverberating off the lofty heights of the grand hall. The moment his words left his lips, every minister flanking the sides of the chamber was stunned into stillness. Even the scholar-official candidates kneeling at their desks, poised to write, lifted their heads in astonishment—some with wide eyes, others with slightly parted lips—uncertain whether they had misheard or the Emperor had misspoken.

One elderly candidate, caught off guard, lost control for an instant; his hand trembled and a drop of ink splattered onto his paper, slowly spreading in a dark blot.

Behind the screen, Li Yuechen had been lounging in comfort against the wall, one leg stretched along the floor, the other bent with her foot pressed to the wall. Yet, at the sound of those words, her legs turned to jelly and she nearly collapsed. Her eyes widened as she took two steps forward, peering from behind the screen at Li Zhi seated on the dragon throne.

Li Zhi did not turn to look at her, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the shocked ministers and candidates below, the health ball in his hand rotating slowly. The Emperor’s words would not be repeated; regardless of their confusion, Li Zhi felt no need to explain himself.

Behind the screen, Li Yuechen shuddered, goosebumps prickling her skin. She instinctively sensed that Li Zhi’s question was aimed squarely at her.

Good heavens, had she really done anything deserving of this? All she’d done was invent some games and write a heavily modified version of Journey to the West. On reflection, Li Yuechen realized that nearly all her actions had centered around the theme of “play.” Even her agricultural studies had yet to succeed—what if they ended in failure?

Carefully considering her record, she concluded she hadn’t invented anything truly earth-shattering. The health ball didn’t count, and the curved plough was merely a minor improvement. As for punctuation, there had always been something similar in this era; she’d merely refined it.

She scratched her head behind the screen, unable to fathom what she could have done to prompt Li Zhi to pose such a question to the candidates. The most pressing issue was how to respond now. Should she feign ignorance? That seemed impossible—her reputation had already been established. Pretending ignorance now would only appear contrived and might leave her parents thinking her calculating and scheming—a future fraught with difficulty.

The best course, then, was to maintain the status quo. With her reputation for filial piety intact, being a little clever was harmless. Her parents were not afraid of intelligence, but of threat. As long as she posed no threat to them, her wit would not matter.

She wasn’t the only one pondering this. Aside from the candidates, the ministers exchanged glances, communicating silently. Only her mentor, Liu Rengui, stood at the front, serene and unconcerned, eyes closed as if meditating, apparently oblivious.

Li Yuechen bit her lower lip in thought, but whether due to youth or natural beauty, she found no dry skin to nibble and grew frustrated.

Li Zhi did not look at her. After a moment’s deliberation, Li Yuechen decided to withdraw. Whatever the candidates answered was now irrelevant to her. In her view, if the Emperor could pose such a question on the spot, he likely already had a plan in mind.

...

Back in the Anfu Palace, Li Yuechen remained distracted. She did not enter the hall, but instead sat in Linbo Pavilion, gazing at the fish occasionally swimming in the pond below, lost in thought.

Li Zhi must be in a peculiar mood to ask such a question. To Li Yuechen, the second half of the question was the real focus. Women leading armies had precedent since the reign of the founding emperor, but entering court as officials—such a thing was unheard of.

In these times, women could only serve as palace officials—positions within the imperial household, such as the Wardrobe Bureau or the Palace of Etiquette. These posts capped at fifth rank; advancement was impossible. Entering court, however, meant joining the empire’s political center—a wholly different matter.

“Your Highness, Your Highness?” Shangguan Wan’er’s voice sounded nearby.

“Yes?”

Li Yuechen turned her head. “Is something the matter?”

“I saw Your Highness sitting here in a daze and wished to remind you—the weather has yet to warm, so take care not to catch cold,” Shangguan Wan’er replied softly.

Li Yuechen nodded. “You’re right... Let’s head back.”

This question was best left unexamined—the more she thought, the more daunting it seemed. Better to watch and wait. For now, Li Zhi likely meant nothing more; perhaps he simply wished his clever daughter’s talents not to go to waste.

...

In the blink of an eye, more than twenty days had passed, and the plot within Anfu Palace was now crowded with rice seedlings.

Meanwhile, beside the sweet shop in the Southern Market, a new store opened, its doorframe lacking a signboard. A wooden plaque stood at the entrance, bearing the words “Soap.”

The shop, managed by Wang Xiang, opened with wooden basins outside, inviting onlookers to wash their hands. Within days, the news of a fragrant soap that left the body smelling fresh after cleansing swept through the Eastern Capital. The price was somewhat steep—twenty Kaiyuan coins per bar—but the soap lasted and was affordable for noble families.

Soon, bars of soap were purchased and brought into noble households. Pure white, scented, with two stripes on each side and the word “Soap” inscribed. Many recognized the handwriting as that of the current Empress!

Indeed, it was Li Yuechen who had her mother write it, for advertising purposes—and without paying a fee for endorsement.

Soap quickly became a craze throughout the Eastern Capital, gradually spreading in small quantities to Chang’an, Yangzhou, and other cities.

In Anfu Palace, Li Yuechen conscripted her sister, Princess Xuancheng, to help with the accounting. The calculations posed no difficulty for her—just a matter of time. Princess Xuancheng seemed intrigued, focusing intently on every number. Li Yuechen was delighted—her sister helped wholeheartedly, never minding wages, which was wonderful!

Of course, Li Yuechen couldn’t let her work for nothing; family shouldn’t be treated like livestock.

Just as she was about to head out, Xiao He approached. “Your Highness, the last batch of ‘moisturizing cream’ has been used up.”

“Oh?” Li Yuechen turned her head. “Summon the palace maids to Linbo Pavilion.”

“Yes!”

Xiao He responded and left. About ten minutes later, she returned with ten palace maids. It was their first time meeting the princess, but her reputation for kindness made them unafraid.

Li Yuechen leaned against a pillar, sitting on the railing, one foot propped up, her arm resting on her knee, ponytail swaying gently in the breeze.

After the maids greeted her, she raised her hand. “No need for formality. Today I’ve called you here to ask—how did you find the ‘moisturizing cream’?”

Though puzzled by the princess’s casual pose, the maids dared not comment. After exchanging glances, the first began to speak.

“These days, I apply it to my face each night before bed, and wake feeling refreshed...”

“My face seems to glow, and my complexion has improved.”

“My cheeks are no longer dry as before—much smoother.”

...

Hearing their feedback, Li Yuechen nodded. “Let’s suppose you had spare money—would you be willing to buy it?”

One maid answered immediately, “If I had ten coins, I’d spend five on it.”

Li Yuechen pondered, then gestured to Xiao He. “There are ten bottles under my desk—fetch them.”

“Yes!” Xiao He retrieved ten small porcelain bottles from the palace.

“These are for you. When you’ve finished them, come back and let me observe the effects,” Li Yuechen said.

The maids were delighted, bowing in thanks. “Thank you, Your Highness!”

After they left, Li Yuechen beckoned Xiao He. “When you fetched them, you saw two bottles left, didn’t you? You and Zheng should try them too. When finished, report the effects and your impressions to me.”

“Thank you, Your Highness!” Xiao He smiled happily.

She’d noticed the changes in the maids but dared not ask until now. With her own bottle, she felt elated.

Li Yuechen laughed. “Let me know when you’re done. There’ll be plenty more in the future!”

“Yes, Your Highness!” Xiao He interlaced her fingers, eyes curved in a smile, bowing her head.

...

The next day, Li Yuechen practiced as usual, sent Fu Lai to the workshop for more glycerin, intending to perfect the moisturizing cream. Once ready, it would earn considerable profit each year.

After training, Xiao He had prepared hot water, and Li Yuechen went to bathe. Soaking in herbal-infused water, she sighed with satisfaction.

...

Meanwhile, she mused about creating a bath mitt for this era; with sea salt and goat’s milk, bathing could be truly luxurious.

Xiao He stood at the side with a new cotton towel, helping her wash. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached.

Li Yuechen turned to see Shangguan Wan’er rush in. “Your Highness, Eunuch Fu requests an audience.”

“Let him in!” Li Yuechen waved.

Soon, Fu Lai’s voice sounded from behind the screen. “Your Highness.”

“What is it?” Li Yuechen shifted, leaning on the edge of the tub for Xiao He to wash her back.

“There have been many unfamiliar faces in Jixian Lane recently, acting suspiciously. They seem to be targeting the workshop,” Fu Lai whispered.

“Are there many?” Li Yuechen asked.

“Not many,” Fu Lai replied, “but they’re likely just scouts. If...”

Li Yuechen laughed. “No need to worry. With the army guarding day and night, I doubt they dare act.”

“I’m concerned these petty thieves covet the formula. Perhaps I should capture and interrogate them.”

Was he mad? To seize and torture people who hadn’t even approached or done anything?

Li Yuechen felt this was excessive and exhaled lightly. “No need. As long as they don’t approach or make a move, pay them no mind. If they do act, handle it as you see fit.”

“Yes!”

Such matters were within Li Yuechen’s expectations. The enormous profits from soap were obvious—greed was natural. As a princess, they would not dare rob her outright, so resorting to covert tactics was expected.

She never believed her status rendered her enterprises safe; as the saying goes, people die for wealth. Such a lucrative prize inevitably attracted competition.

Especially in this era of aristocratic politics—the great families were terrifyingly entrenched, with countless loyal retainers and little fear of betrayal.

Even if they resorted to robbery or kidnapping workshop staff to seize the formula, the royal family could do nothing but let it go. Even the Emperor could not execute someone without evidence or cause.

The profits here far exceeded those of canned goods, so such actions were not impossible.

Still, with the army guarding, Li Yuechen trusted they would not dare confront the military directly.

Thus, she had little reason to worry.

After bathing, she changed into clean clothes, hair wrapped in a towel, and went to inspect the seedlings in the courtyard, pondering whether to release ducks for pest control as she waited for her hair to dry.

...

Elsewhere, Li Zhi and Wu Zetian in the Renshou Palace received the same news.

“Heh...” Li Zhi spun the health ball, chuckling. “Some people simply cannot resist temptation.”

“If they don’t act openly, there’s no need to concern ourselves,” Wu Zetian shook her head, a smile tinged with helplessness. “By comparison, look at these memorials—every one ridicules Chen’er, barely short of naming her outright.”

“Hmph... They mock the princess for competing with the people, yet forget their own conduct,” Li Zhi snapped, waving his hand. “Attend me!”

Zhang Chengxin hurried in. “What are your orders, Your Majesty?”

“Take these memorials and burn them! I don’t want them cluttering my sight!”

“Yes!”

Wu Zetian smiled, “Do it discreetly, so the Censorate doesn’t find out!”

“Rest assured, Your Majesty!”

After Zhang Chengxin left, Wu Zetian sat beside Li Zhi. “I doubt they’ll simply let this matter go. The workshop will inevitably face trouble.”

“No matter,” Li Zhi replied indifferently, “the army stationed there is not for show!”

“If you ask me, this matter cannot be separated from the Crown Prince,” Wu Zetian said as she poured tea.

Li Zhi’s eyes widened, eyebrow raised as if he’d seen a ghost. “What does it have to do with me?”

“That day in Qianyuan Palace, you questioned the candidates—‘Can women enter court as officials, and what impact would it have on the court?’ Did you not know your own mind?” Wu Zetian smiled, eyes narrowed.

...

Li Zhi blinked, turned away without answering, spun the health ball, and lay back in his rocking chair, feigning death.