After paying his respects, the Crown Prince rose from his bow, smoothing the embroidered hem of his dragon robe as his gaze lingered on the red bricks beneath his feet.
Had it not been for Mother Yi’s protection and guidance, he might never have reached this day.
He would have been consumed by resentment and defiance, blindly trusting his granduncle’s words, fighting tooth and nail against his Eldest Brother. He would have wallowed in self-pity, aggrieved that among all his brothers, he alone had lost his mother early, leaving him without her unwavering care. He might have even squandered the Emperor’s favor, demanding his father’s undivided attention, unknowingly sowing seeds of suspicion—forgetting that the man seated upon the dragon throne was not just a father, but the sovereign ruler of the realm.
The Crown Prince had known from a young age that his status set him apart.
The imperial consorts kept their distance, wary of him—some even wishing for his demise. Imperial Concubine Tong, in her obsession, had once sought to bear a son to replace him. Consort Hui and Consort De would smile at him, but their eyes held a sharp, icy edge.
Those who bore imperial sons saw him as an adversary by default, their hearts and minds devoted solely to their own children. It had nothing to do with the struggle for succession; it was simply human nature. The Crown Prince had understood this since he was very, very young.
There was no point in condemning such instincts. Yet on sleepless nights, he would toss and turn, imagining what it might have been like if his mother had lived—only to sink into despair, wondering if he had been born under an ill-fated star, destined to bring misfortune to those around him.
Memories of his early years had blurred with time, save for one moment: the words Mother Yi had spoken during his Ninth Brother’s third-day bathing ceremony. He remembered them to this day.
For the longest time, the Crown Prince had puzzled over it, and even now, he hadn’t fully unraveled the mystery. Everyone prioritized their own flesh and blood—so why had Mother Yi entrusted the care of the Ninth Prince and Little Eleventh to him, guiding him with unreserved generosity? Why had she endured courtiers’ attacks on his behalf without ever distancing herself?
With the Emperor’s favor and her Fifth Brother raised under the Empress Dowager’s care, why had she willingly stepped into his troubled waters?
Now, at last, the Crown Prince understood.
This was his blessing.
Perhaps his past life had been one of hardship, repaid in this lifetime with a path smoothed before him. He would become an irreproachable heir, carefully tempering the Emperor’s suspicions.
He would not be the one to lose.
This bow was given willingly. As he straightened, his phoenix eyes gleamed with renewed vigor. Turning on his heel, he strode forward with purpose. The red tiles and gray bricks faded from view, replaced by the vast openness of the palace grounds, bathed in the golden light of dawn, the embroidered dragons on his robes seeming to come alive.
After today, he would have a family of his own.
The thought brought a faint flush to his ears. Then another realization struck him—he ought to repay Mother Yi for her teachings. With a quiet word, he summoned He Zhuer and murmured a few instructions.
He Zhuer’s face twisted into a pained expression, but he bowed in assent.
Satisfied, the Crown Prince nodded and declared, “Return to Yuqing Palace with me. We await the bridal procession.”
---
Yuqing Palace.
Yunxiu had risen late, lounging lazily on her daybed as she embroidered a child’s hat and tiny garments. Compared to the birthday tribute she had crafted years ago, her needlework had improved—though she was far from mastering the art.
Despite Fourth Princess Yirha’s patient guidance, innate talent dictated that the Imperial Noble Consort would never become a true artisan. She was self-aware enough to treat this as a passing diversion, something to occupy her hands—like now.
Threading her needle, Yunxiu appeared deeply focused, yet after half an hour, the floral pattern in her hands remained less than half-finished.
Nanny Dong watched her. Ruizhu watched her. Peihuan and Pei Yang watched her.
“...” Yunxiu tossed the embroidery into the basket with an air of nonchalance. “My fingers are stiff from the cold today. The stitches refuse to cooperate.”
Ruizhu, ever the indulgent one, smiled and agreed, “Indeed, the early spring chill lingers. I’ll light the warming brazier at once.”
Ruizhu had been a servant of the Guo Luoluo Mansion since childhood. When Sanguanbao sent his daughter to the capital for the imperial selection, he had paved the way with silver, ensuring Ruizhu and Wenyuan could accompany Yunxiu into the palace. When the time came for them to leave service, Wenyuan had married a banner officer under Yunxiu’s arrangements, thriving in her new life. Ruizhu, however, had refused marriage, choosing instead to remain by her mistress’s side as a sworn maiden.
To Yunxiu, Ruizhu was more than a servant—she was a confidante, one she allowed considerable leeway in jest and familiarity.
Right now, though, Yunxiu found her exasperating. “Such insolence,” she chided sternly.
“This servant overstepped,” Ruizhu conceded with a grin, then added, “I’ve already sent people to keep watch at Yuqing Palace. When dusk falls and the bride arrives, they’ll report back at once.”
Under her breath, she mused that her mistress’s stern expression bore an uncanny resemblance to the Emperor’s.
Unaware of Ruizhu’s thoughts, Yunxiu let her feigned severity fade. A faint smile touched her lips as she sighed softly. “I’ve watched the Crown Prince grow. He’s a good child. Even the coldest heart would soften toward him after all these years.”
But she was not his birth mother. To speak of such sentiments would be presumptuous. At most, she could allow herself a moment of quiet pride—nothing more.
Having walked this path with Yunxiu for so long, Ruizhu understood the shift in her mistress’s heart. From reluctant sympathy to genuine care, it was only natural. “The Crown Prince’s bride will pay her respects to the various palaces tomorrow,” Ruizhu murmured. “Why dwell on such thoughts? Besides, would the Crown Prince ever neglect to visit you?”
The Crown Prince’s consort, like the Crown Prince himself, required a formal investiture ceremony. Thus, Jingchu would first be addressed as the Crown Prince’s primary consort until her official designation as Crown Princess.
Yunxiu considered this and found it reasonable.
Absently, the Imperial Noble Consort touched her abdomen, thinking that this child was far more troublesome than her previous ones. The increased appetite was one thing, but this sentimental moodiness was unbearable.
Wait—if this were a little princess, prone to melancholy and delicate sighs, yet built like two or three Yirhas stacked together…
She shuddered at the thought.
After a brief silence, she rallied herself. “Fetch the embroidery,” she declared briskly.
Nanny Dong hurried to comply, but just then, a servant announced a discreet visitor from Yuqing Palace—none other than Fu Shun, the quick-witted errand boy Yunxiu had met years ago, now a lanky, high-ranking eunuch.
“At this hour?” Yunxiu arched a brow, mind racing with possibilities. “Let him in.”
“This humble servant pays respects to the Noble Consort Yi. May Your Highness enjoy boundless fortune.” Fu Shun kowtowed, his face wreathed in smiles. “The Crown Prince bade this servant convey his greetings and a message…”
He stepped closer, hesitating briefly before leaning in to whisper a few words.
The matter of the Emperor using the jade cream was not something Fu Shun dared disclose without explicit permission—unless he valued his life.
Yunxiu froze at his words, her gaze instinctively darting toward her vanity. Fu Shun confirmed, “It’s the same jade cream Your Highness keeps at hand.”
With that, he bowed and retreated swiftly, leaving Yunxiu stunned. After a long moment, she pressed her fingers to her temples, torn between laughter and exasperation.
What absurdity was this?
That chiding remark about "being shameless in old age" was just a burst of anger, yet it somehow prompted the Emperor to secretly seek out Imperial Physician Min. But let’s set that aside for now—since when had the Crown Prince become so mischievous, even sending her a message on his own wedding day? The thought made her pause, but her indignation melted away in an instant. Yinreng must have been thinking of her.
Ruizhu noticed her mistress’s sudden shift to a radiant smile and quietly sighed in relief, wondering what Fu Shun had whispered to Yunxiu to leave her so restless.
But Yunxiu, smiling mysteriously, resolved not to share a word with her attendants, planning instead to find the perfect moment to observe the Emperor closely. Little did she expect that Kangxi would walk right into her trap that very afternoon, arriving in her chambers unannounced.
"Her second brother is about to start his own family. Has my little princess been troubling you today?" Kangxi took Yunxiu’s hand as they settled onto the couch together.
This was a question the Emperor asked daily. After a graceful bow, Yunxiu pressed her lips into a smile, forgetting all else as she boldly lifted her peach-blossom eyes—bright and shimmering—to study Kangxi’s face.
Hmm. His complexion was a shade fairer, his skin smoother. She’d never paid much attention before, but who would’ve guessed the Emperor had quietly sought the Imperial Hospital’s help? And it seemed to be working.
Throughout history, emperors had pursued immortality or focused on health regimens. But secretly using beauty treatments? Could Kangxi be the first?
Unaware of Yunxiu’s musings, Kangxi noticed her staring and lightly coughed behind his hand, inwardly pleased though his expression remained composed.
With Baocheng, this was the second time today. That Liang Jiugong hadn’t lied to him after all. Hmm, he ought to reward the man with something nice later.
The Emperor shouldn’t have been here at this hour. With the Crown Prince’s wedding, the palace was bustling with activity. By evening, Kangxi would personally attend the ceremony at Yuqing Palace to receive the newlyweds’ bows before returning to his own quarters.
Yunxiu didn’t understand his sudden visit. Before she could ask, Kangxi smiled faintly. "I know you’ve been bored. In a few hours, change into ceremonial robes and accompany me to Yuqing Palace. The men will be entertained by Yinti and the others, but among the women, only Yinti’s wife will be there—hardly enough to manage the crowd. As an imperial consort, no one can question your presence. You’ll oversee things and lend a hand."
Yunxiu’s fingers trembled, her lips parting slightly. Accompanying the Emperor? This was something she’d never anticipated.
The consort blinked, uncharacteristically stumbling over her words. "Your Majesty, this… this isn’t proper protocol."
Kangxi raised a brow, cutting her off. "What I say is protocol."
When Yunxiu seemed ready to protest further, he chuckled. "Consort Wen oversees the inner palace. It’s only right for her to manage the gifts and preside over the occasion."
"But you’re with child. It would be too taxing, so you ought to rest in your chambers." Then, teasingly, he added, "Unless Consort Yi doesn’t wish to attend—"
"When did I ever say that?" Yunxiu retorted swiftly, her voice soft but firm, drawing a hearty laugh from Kangxi.
"Very well, very well. We’ll both go." Lowering his voice, he added, "With Mother Yi there, Baocheng will be delighted too."
Her cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of pink, radiant as the evening clouds.
The festivities roared on well into the night.
Yintang, chest puffed out in a head-to-toe crimson ensemble with a fresh red flower pinned at his waist, dragged Yin'e through the hall in a whirlwind of mischief. By chance, he overheard the Eldest Prince muttering about getting the Crown Prince drunk.
The Ninth Prince immediately took offense.
Eyes glinting, he loudly declared, "Eldest Brother, that’s not fair! I’m only seven, and you’re already scheming to get me drunk?"
The surrounding guests cast subtle glances their way. The Eldest Prince’s face darkened. This little troublemaker…
