The Tongjia clan, being the maternal relatives of the current emperor, enjoyed an exceptional status in the court due to the influence of Empress Xiaokangzhang. The brothers Tong Guogang and Tong Guowei were even addressed by the emperor as "uncles," and Kangxi showed no hesitation in supporting younger members of the family like Elundai and Longkodo.
Despite Elundai being a reckless troublemaker—having broken ties with his father Tong Guogang and committing numerous acts of bullying and exploitation—he received nothing more than a reprimand from the emperor and a beating with the rod. He remained comfortably in his position as an imperial guard, living without a care.
However, ever since the imperial noble consort was demoted to a regular consort and the second Tong daughter went to Mount Wutai to pray for blessings, the emperor's favor toward the Tongjia family had waned. Festive gifts from the palace were now no different from those given to other high-ranking officials.
Still, the loss of imperial favor primarily affected the elder members of the Tongjia clan, leaving the younger generation untouched. Longkodo, in particular, had been rising steadily in rank, gaining increasing importance. Though he grieved the death of his elder sister, in the quiet of midnight, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.
The thorn in the emperor’s heart was gone. Who was to say the Tong family couldn’t regain its former glory?
Indeed, no matter how many faults a living person had, all resentment and discomfort faded with their death. Longkodo speculated that the emperor might not feel "guilt," but rather a lingering melancholy. After all, she had been his cousin—a bond of blood that could never be severed. And so, the emperor’s attitude toward the Tong family began to soften.
A few days prior, Longkodo’s father had submitted a memorial testing the waters. It was filled with heartfelt words of repentance, admitting his lack of caution as an official and acknowledging his failure in raising his daughters. He claimed to have long since realized his mistakes and now wished only to serve the emperor and the crown prince wholeheartedly.
The pain of losing a daughter was mentioned only briefly at the end, where he lightly touched upon the matter of the Crown Prince's Side Consort.
His father had accurately gauged the emperor’s thoughts, boldly stating that he had only two sons and two daughters of legitimate birth, and that his youngest son—the only promising one—was too unruly to control. He pleaded for the emperor’s mercy, asking not for wealth or power, but merely for the preservation of his family. A Tong daughter, even as a low-ranking consort or servant, would suffice.
Longkodo frowned at the description of himself as "unruly" but ultimately let it pass.
Moreover, this particular illegitimate daughter suited the emperor’s preferences.
A legitimate daughter from the main family, with a status even surpassing that of the future crown princess, would only invite suspicion. Since the main family had no suitable candidates, they had to settle for a beautiful and gentle illegitimate daughter, hoping she would serve carefully in the crown prince’s household before seeking further advancement.
The recent past served as a stark warning—any ambition that rivaled the crown princess would be suicidal.
While on duty before the emperor, Longkodo witnessed Kangxi reading his father’s memorial in silence, visibly moved.
Half of Longkodo’s worries dissipated.
Perhaps this was a way out.
But now, what was happening?
Longkodo prostrated himself on the ground, his mind racing. Ignoring the cold sweat on his back, he forced himself to remain composed and replied, "Your Majesty, my fifth cousin has long admired the crown prince."
A clever answer, deftly avoiding the emperor’s sharp questioning.
Kangxi had always favored this cousin, even admired him. A capable and ambitious young man, the very wildness and defiance that Tong Guowei criticized only made him more appealing in the emperor’s eyes.
A defiant man bowed to no one—except the emperor. The position of the future commander of the Nine Gates was reserved for him, awaiting only a few more years of tempering before he could be promoted to the imperial court, guarding the palace gates with military authority equal to the six ministers.
Just like now.
The emperor had asked on a whim, intending to imply blame, but what was the result?
Look at Longkodo’s response—such intelligence.
Even mentioning Tong Guowei was nothing but honesty.
Kangxi smiled faintly. "I appreciate clever and spirited young men."
But he had no patience for overly cunning old foxes who tried to guess his intentions, nor for ministers who thought themselves clever but were actually deceitful.
Longkodo pressed his forehead even lower to the ground, lips trembling, not daring to speak. A sense of foreboding settled in his chest.
Kangxi flipped through the memorial in his hands, rereading the opening line: "May Your Majesty be at peace." It was the same memorial Tong Guowei had submitted.
The words still seemed sincere, but the emperor no longer felt the same way.
"Your father’s request the other day strikes me as inappropriate. The Tongjia clan is my maternal family—legitimate daughters should not become concubines. To do so would disturb the spirit of Empress Xiaokangzhang in the afterlife, leaving me ashamed and restless." Kangxi turned his ring calmly.
Longkodo was stunned.
Legitimate daughters should not become concubines?
Realization struck like a hammer. This effectively severed the Tongjia clan’s path to marriage with the imperial family.
Whether entering the emperor’s harem or the households of the princes, Tongjia women could only be principal wives, not secondary consorts.
But to be a principal wife, only a legitimate daughter was suitable. The family currently had only illegitimate daughters of marriageable age, except for the infant daughter of his eldest brother, still in swaddling clothes. Meanwhile, the youngest prince in the palace was already nearly six.
What glory would the family’s daughters have in future marriages?
Longkodo’s vision darkened. He knew he had made a grave mistake, but he couldn’t fathom where he had gone wrong.
Had the emperor’s moods become so unpredictable? For the first time, his voice trembled as he pressed his forehead to the ground. "Your Majesty..."
"I have high hopes for the Tongjia clan. May they emulate the Fucha family, with every son achieving greatness. Would that not be a fine tale?" Kangxi encouraged warmly.
Liang Jiugong silently translated: Stop relying on marriage alliances for power. I find it shameful.
Having said enough, Kangxi dropped his instructive tone and waved a hand. "Enough, rise. When you have time, have your wife visit the palace to pay respects to the two noble consorts."
Xiuxiu had mentioned it to him once before. Though Kangxi didn’t see anything special about the younger Mrs. Hesheli, he had made a note of it.
At these words, Longkodo’s already ashen face darkened further.
"Yes," he replied hoarsely. "This servant takes his leave."
The next day.
"Lord Suo, His Majesty summons you!"
Suo Etu brushed nonexistent dust from his hat, adjusted it properly, and leisurely made his way from the Censorate toward the palace.
"Lord Fucha," someone muttered, watching his retreating figure resentfully, "Lord Suo holds no official position in the Censorate, yet he meddles in censorial affairs, relying solely on imperial favor. How arrogant."
Ma Qi, now promoted to Left Censor-in-Chief, turned away, his gaze clear and unbothered.
He remarked meaningfully, "Imperial favor can also be a death sentence."
When the workday ended, Ma Qi tidied the documents on his desk and instructed his servant, "Invite Commander Tuyue to my residence. Tell him I’ve prepared wine and dishes—and that his favorite vintage awaits."
Meanwhile, Suo Etu knelt in the imperial study. "This servant pays respects to Your Majesty."
Kangxi set down his brush and glanced at him, not bidding him to rise.
A sheet of paper lay before the emperor, covered in the words "Serenity and Peace." Kangxi examined it before finally speaking. "You’ve arrived, Minister."
"Yes, this servant has come."
Early winter had arrived, and thick carpets covered the floor, so Suo Etu wasn’t kneeling on hard ground.
Under the watchful eyes of Liang Jiugong and the other palace attendants, Kangxi felt his dignity slightly bruised. He lowered his head slightly, a cold glint flashing in his eyes—these damned servants.
"The Dowager Empress has informed Us that the inner court urgently needs winter garments, yet the Imperial Household Department claims to have no fabric in stock," Kangxi's inquiry was leisurely, even laced with amusement. "Very well, but the officials in charge keep shifting blame, saying that producing winter clothes would delay the Crown Prince's wedding. What is the meaning of this?"
It’s because there’s no money.
The words lingered on Suo Etu’s tongue, but he swallowed them back.
"The expedition to the southern Gobi required substantial military funds. This servant has failed Your Majesty’s grace." He placed his official hat on the velvet carpet, assuming a posture of repentance.
Kangxi responded with a calm "Oh," then remarked coolly, "We were unaware that the national treasury’s silver had somehow merged with the Imperial Household Department’s accounts."
Before Suo Etu could speak, the Emperor fixed him with an icy stare. "The inner court is now under Noble Consort Wen’s management, and expenditures have been reduced across all palaces. You, too, must act. We command you to raise the necessary funds to fill this deficit without delaying the Crown Prince’s wedding. If you fail—"
"We have already issued the imperial decree for the marriage, with the wedding set for the third month. There will be no changes." Kangxi smiled, though his tone held no trace of humor. "If you cannot gather the funds, no matter—you may keep Mingzhu company."
Liang Jiugong silently interpreted: Keeping him company won’t be enough. Confiscating your family’s assets would be the only way to recoup the losses.
Suo Etu’s pupils constricted. "Your Majesty—!"
"You are Baocheng’s granduncle. Surely, like Us, you wish for him to marry soon." Kangxi spoke as if casually, ignoring the cold sweat breaking out on Suo Etu’s brow. After a pause, he added, "Recently, there was a strange incident. We thought you might like to hear of it."
"The General of Fuzhou was summoned to the capital but fell ill on the journey—fever, stomach pains." Kangxi sighed, his tone almost leisurely. "And do you know what happened?"
"Noble Consort Yi cares deeply for Baocheng, and naturally, she extended that concern to his future father-in-law. She urged Us to dispatch imperial physicians, who managed to restore General Shi Wenbing’s health."
Then, his voice turned frigid, dripping with menace. "Suo Etu, We ask you this—who sent the assassins along the road?"
At these words, Suo Etu froze in shock and fury, his heart boiling like scalding water.
Shi Wenbing. Assassins.
Noble Consort Yi of the Guoluoluo clan.
