To trace the origin of the fire in the Eldest Prince's household, we must go back several days.
Yintang had spent over a month living and studying under his fourth brother, Yinzhen, enduring what he considered inhuman torment. Crying to the heavens brought no answer, pleading to the earth no relief. Every day was spent in fear, terrified that a pair of scissors might come snipping at his head. When he finally found a chance to escape, even his only hope—the Crown Prince Yinreng—was snatched away.
Watching hope slip through his fingers and turn into despair was a staggering blow. To make matters worse, Yin'e's gleeful cackling beside him only fueled his grief, which quickly transformed into burning rage—all directed at the Eldest Prince, Yinti.
Like the ancient tales of enduring hardship to achieve vengeance, the six-year-old Yintang gritted his teeth and plotted his revenge. He sacrificed much for this grand scheme, even setting aside his past grievances with Yinzhen to focus entirely on dealing with Yinti.
As the year drew to a close and the winter solstice approached, the Emperor summoned the Fourth Prince to inquire about recent affairs. Learning that Yintang had "turned over a new leaf" and become "diligent in his studies," the Emperor, in a rare act of mercy, withdrew the guards stationed at his residence and set him free.
Yintang was finally liberated.
Before he could even shed tears of relief, Yin'e came bounding over, congratulating him on his escape from suffering while repeatedly apologizing, his small eyes gleaming with a mix of sincerity and cunning to mask his guilt.
Yintang gave him a dark look but magnanimously declared he wouldn’t hold it against him. In the next moment, he dragged Yin'e along to lurk at the intersection between Yanxi Palace and the gardens of Ningshou Palace—the route the Eldest Princess Consort always took when paying her respects.
Too guilty to oppose him, Yin'e whispered, "Ninth Brother, what are you planning?"
Yintang sighed dramatically. "This lord can’t bear to see Eldest Brother imprisoned by the Emperor. As his younger brother, it’s only right to help."
Yin'e distinctly heard murderous intent in those words.
He shrank back, not daring to ask further. But hadn’t their grand plan to disrupt the succession been set for later? Why was it suddenly moved up?
Late at night, Yinti turned over in bed, finally ceasing his restless murmurs and sleeping soundly till dawn.
The Eldest Princess Consort exhaled softly, exhausted as she lay back on the inner side of the bed. The Eldest Prince disliked disturbances at night, so even the maids on night duty kept their distance. Half-awake, her expression was complex yet clear—she didn’t call for anyone to assist her.
After a while, she rested a hand on her belly, her thoughts drifting back to the imperial gardens two days prior.
Tenth Brother had sighed to Ninth Brother, saying he wished for a sweet little niece, just like the eldest princess—girls were the most considerate.
Ninth Brother had smacked him and muttered, "What nonsense are you spouting? Eldest Brother is fighting tooth and nail against Second Brother. A son would make Eldest Sister-in-law’s life easier."
Then, in a childish, innocent tone, he added, "But Mother says whether it’s a boy or girl is fate. You’re right though—girls are lovely. Gentle and caring, though it’d be hard to let her marry someday. And what if she’s sent to Mongolia?"
"This lord won’t let any niece of mine be married off to Mongolia," Yintang declared firmly. "We’ll bring the groom to the capital instead. If he dares misbehave, just see if I don’t skin him alive!"
They then excitedly discussed gifts for the baby’s full moon and first birthday, as if certain she was carrying a girl. The Eldest Princess Consort wasn’t the least bit angry—she had a feeling this time, she wouldn’t fulfill her mother-in-law or her husband’s wishes.
Though it was just children’s chatter, their words warmed her heart. Especially that line—"Eldest Sister-in-law’s life would be easier"—hit her like a hammer, leaving her standing there, speechless for a long time.
Was her life easy? Of course it was.
She held her husband’s heart firmly—at least for now. He wasn’t the most observant or considerate, not the ideal husband by any means, and certainly less perceptive than a six-year-old. Yet she was willing to spend her life with him, soothing his occasional stubbornness.
Apart from Mother Hui’s constant nagging, the exhaustion of pregnancy, the crushing pressure for a royal heir, and her declining family’s faded glory—who wouldn’t envy her?
Married into the imperial family as the eldest daughter-in-law, she bore the Emperor’s first grandchild the following year. But if asked, she’d trade it all for an ordinary life, free from the terror of following Yinti along the precarious path of succession struggles, where one misstep meant ruin.
Was vying for the throne really so simple?
She saw things clearly. The Emperor’s favor toward the Crown Prince was unwavering, and Noble Consort Yi held sway in the rear palace. Even when Mingzhu held immense power, their chances had been slim—how much worse now?
Even if the Crown Prince fell, what good would it do Yinti? His impulsive nature was ingrained. The Emperor might only see him as a whetstone to sharpen the heir, a tool to temper the future ruler.
Once the blade was honed, the stone would be discarded.
She shouldn’t be so pessimistic. Throughout history, which eldest prince lacked ambition? If there were even a glimmer of hope, she’d brave any danger by his side.
But the road to the throne was pitch black, offering only struggle and suffocation—no light in sight.
Lying awake in the dark, she couldn’t help but recall Yintang’s words. What if this child was a girl?
Noble Consort Yi was right—gender was fate. Boy or girl, she’d cherish them equally. If it was a daughter, she’d love her all the more.
The Eldest Princess Consort let out a bitter laugh. Once, while paying respects at Yanxi Palace, Consort Hui had fussed over her belly as if certain it was a son, filling her with sudden, irrational resentment toward the title of "imperial eldest grandson."
As if a child could be a bargaining chip in their power struggles.
In a way, having a daughter might douse some of their fervor for the throne.
The thought made her smile, but she quickly shook her head, dispelling the notion.
What madness. A son would secure the household’s stability—hadn’t she longed for one too?
Lost in thought, the night remained impenetrably dark. She turned to look at the sleeping Yinti, her heart settling into calm. Pressing her lips together, she seemed to reach a decision.
The next morning, Yinti noticed the dark circles under his wife’s eyes and asked in surprise, "Didn’t sleep well? Nightmares? Don’t worry—with me here, no evil can touch you."
The Eldest Princess Consort stiffened briefly before offering a faint smile. "Just a bad dream."
She placed her hands on her belly and met his gaze directly. "If I’m carrying a daughter, would you still love her? Must it be the imperial eldest grandson?"
Yinti frowned. "Of course not."
Silence lingered. She closed her eyes, her lashes damp. "My lord, if you can’t turn back… I’m afraid."
Yinti paused mid-motion to pull her into his arms, his heart aching. His wife must have had a truly dreadful nightmare.
Yet he found himself at a loss for words.
In the end, he only uttered heavily, "What does a woman know? You need only manage the household affairs properly. There’s no need to trouble yourself with the rest."
His tone was stiff, and anyone could hear the displeasure in his words. The Eldest Princess Consort’s fingers trembled slightly, her heart instantly growing cold.
Soon, she forced a smile back onto her face and softly replied, "As you wish."
She was not afraid of the long and arduous road ahead—she could wait.
On the fifth day of Yintang’s "rebirth," while paying respects at Yikun Palace after his studies, he happened upon guests in the hall.
"Hesheli?" After receiving a whispered hint from the guiding eunuch, Yintang was momentarily confused. He looked up and asked, "Which Hesheli?"
Suo Etu and his clan were figures Noble Consort Yi avoided like the plague, wishing she could keep them out of sight. Why would she receive them now?
"Replying to the Ninth Prince, it is the wife of Second Master Tong. Noble Consort Wen is also present," the eunuch answered quietly.
There was only one "Second Master Tong" in the palace—Longkodo. Yintang immediately understood. The woman inside was Longkodo’s principal wife and cousin, Mrs. Hesheli, the unfortunate soul who had suffered greatly at the hands of that venomous woman, Li Si'er.
Even though the imperial palace was a den of corruption, and in his past life, his brothers had resorted to every conceivable trick in their struggle for the throne, none of it compared to the sheer horror of Longkodo’s "turning his principal wife into a human swine."
In the later years of the emperor’s reign, Longkodo held the position of Nine Gates Commander and arrogantly styled himself as the uncle of the imperial princes, wielding immense power. Li Si'er even dared to act as a titled noblewoman, openly accepting bribes from high-ranking officials. Though Longkodo had early on pledged allegiance to Prince Yong (the future Emperor Yinzhen), she frequently associated with eunuchs from the Eighth Prince’s household.
It was laughable how Longkodo seemed to be under some spell—he never reprimanded her, letting her do as she pleased. All his talents were devoted to protecting one woman, a former concubine of his father-in-law, while allowing Li Si'er to vent her cruelty on his principal wife. It was absurd to the point that even Yintang looked down on him.
His father, Tong Guowei, could do nothing about it. As for Lady Tong (Mrs. Hesheli’s aunt)—Longkodo had even been ruthless toward his own mother.
Her second son had elevated a concubine above his wife—and that wife was her own niece. At first, she had been indignant and scolded him repeatedly, but over time, swayed by his coaxing, her heart had gradually turned biased.
Only when Li Si'er grew increasingly brazen, meddling in political affairs through her man, did Lady Tong finally lose patience and take action. But this only provoked Li Si'er’s wrath. When Lady Tong suddenly saw the emaciated, unrecognizable figure of Mrs. Hesheli locked in a woodshed, she was so enraged that she fell gravely ill and passed away within days.
To Yintang, they all got what they deserved.
After that, Li Si'er acted as the mistress of the household, bedecked in gold and silver, living in unrestrained luxury. Those who suffered under her oppression could only seethe in silence.
How did Yintang know all this?
He had only heard bits and pieces, but someone had incessantly recounted the details to him. Every misdeed of Li Si'er had been thoroughly investigated by his wife, Lady Dong'e.
When Lady Dong'e spoke of it, her face twisted in disgust. Even after they were both imprisoned in the Imperial Clan Court, the unlucky woman kept muttering that if the emperor showed no mercy in punishing his own brothers, there was no reason to spare the lives of those two vile creatures.
What ultimately became of Longkodo and Li Si'er, Yintang did not know. He only caught vague rumors—that the Tongjia clan had accused Longkodo of "turning his principal wife into a human swine," with his eldest son, Yuexing'a, testifying in court, shocking the entire capital.
And then… then he died.
Lady Dong'e was right—Yinzhen had no reason to spare those two. Before ascending the throne, he had needed Longkodo’s support. But afterward, who could tolerate such an arrogant, overbearing man who acted like a self-important elder, smirking smugly? He was even more detestable than Nian Gengyao.
Did Yinzhen—no, Fourth Brother—actually kill them?
Yintang’s chubby face was clouded with deep thought as he entered the hall, trying to recall whether Longkodo and Li Si'er had already entangled themselves when he was six years old.
Then it struck him—this wasn’t how things had gone in his past life. There had been no summoning of Longkodo’s wife. Why would Noble Consort Yi want to see her?
Not just Yintang—Noble Consort Wen, who sat sipping tea with a smile, and Mrs. Hesheli, who sat with her head bowed, were equally puzzled.
One could not fathom Yunxiu’s intentions, while the other was uneasy, barely daring to breathe. Noble Consort Yi was a legendary figure, one who had never interacted with the Tong family. What could Her Highness possibly want with her?
Lately, Mrs. Hesheli’s life had been unbearable.
She had a vague suspicion that Longkodo was keeping a mistress, but though her heart ached, she dared not confront him.
Having lost her mother early and with her father remarried, Mrs. Hesheli had entered the Tong household with little confidence. Years had passed in this manner.
She realized now that it had been a mistake from the start. Her husband despised her surname simply because she was of the same clan as Suo Etu. Though he held no grudge against his mother—who had raised him—toward her, he could barely stand the sight of her.
He resented her by association, blaming her for Suo Etu’s role in the downfall of his elder sister. And just the other day, Suo Etu—now stripped of rank—had come to the Tong residence in person, seeking to borrow money.
After that incident, and now with Noble Consort Yi summoning her, the look in her husband’s eyes had chilled her to the bone.
Mrs. Hesheli smiled bitterly. What could she do?
She had never been favored by her husband. If not for bearing Yuexing'a and her aunt’s protection, she would have had no place in the household at all. Day by day, she was merely drifting through life.
With her eyes downcast, Mrs. Hesheli remained silent. Yunxiu, for a moment, did not notice Yintang slipping in.
With a soft sigh, she spoke gently, "I mean no harm. I simply find you familiar and wished to invite you for a chat—to speak of ordinary matters. After all, Second Master Tong is His Majesty’s cousin. There’s no need to be so reserved."
