The sound of a person collapsing was deafening, especially in the silence of the night, broken only by faint breaths.
Yinzi withdrew his hand, stumbling back a step in nervousness before turning his head away and lowering his gaze. He blew on his reddened palm, wincing slightly.
The commotion in the courtyard was loud enough to alert the patrolling guards with sabers, as well as Nanny Chen, who was not far away. Their expressions darkened as they rushed toward the bridal chamber, where the door stood wide open, revealing flickering candlelight. When the guards saw the woman writhing on the ground before Yinzi, their limbs turned cold, and they nearly lost their voices.
Nanny Chen was terrified out of her wits, tears immediately streaming down her face. "The Eleventh Prince—"
An assassin. An assassin had infiltrated Yuqing Palace.
If even a single hair on the Eleventh Prince’s head had been harmed, their lives would be forfeit. The thought of today being the Crown Prince’s wedding made the guards shudder further. They swarmed forward, restraining Chunlin with ruthless efficiency.
Four of them bound her tightly with ropes before yanking her hair back, forcing her face into view. Blood obscured her features, making identification difficult for a moment. They gasped in shock before exhaling in relief—astonished yet grateful.
The Eleventh Prince was only six years old, yet he had single-handedly subdued an assassin.
The others remained unaware of the details. Seeing Yinzi standing outside with his hands clasped behind his back, they knelt in unison, their voices filled with urgency and shame. "We were too late to protect you, Your Highness. Please forgive us. Are you unharmed? We’ve already sent word to His Majesty and Noble Consort Yi."
"I’m fine," Yinzi cleared his throat, exhaling slowly to steady his racing heart. His large, watery eyes blinked as he stretched out his palm sheepishly. "It’s just... the powder stung a little."
His mother had told him this was something special—prepared by the Imperial Hospital for self-defense. The red-and-white powder was harmless in his hand, but once it entered someone’s eyes, it was as agonizing as the cruelest torture. Yinzi didn’t know what "torture" meant, but he always listened to his mother.
For years, Yinzi had lived with Yunxiu, often hearing her gentle admonitions: "If you ever encounter someone with ill intentions, just throw this powder at their face. Some of it will surely get into their eyes. Remember, you’re a good boy—don’t open the pouch unless you must, understand?"
The Eleventh Prince nodded solemnly before whispering, "Why didn’t you give this to Fifth Prince or Ninth Older Brother?"
Yunxiu fell silent, lost in memories of a dream.
She knew Yinzi was clever, brave, and utterly endearing—but in her dream, he hadn’t lived past ten.
Masking her distress, she finally smiled and said softly, "Reaching my position has made me a target for many. Your brothers are sharp enough to protect themselves—they don’t need this."
Yinzi remembered every word. Now, recalling them, a spark of pride flickered in his dark eyes.
He’d noticed Chunlin’s odd behavior long ago. He hadn’t embarrassed his mother or panicked—only...
Frowning, he examined his stinging palm. His mother had been wrong—this powder definitely burned.
Chunlin, bound and gagged, was beyond screaming. Her eyes felt like they were on fire, and despair choked her. Death would have been a mercy.
Meanwhile, the front courtyard buzzed with celebration. The bridal sedan had arrived at Yuqing Palace. Kangxi, moved and pleased, waved off the guests’ formalities. The Ninth Prince looked as if he’d seen a ghost, while the Tenth Prince cheered, "Mother!"
Noble Consort Yi, though a stepmother, had never been greeted so familiarly before. But since the Emperor had permitted it, no one dared object. Noble Consort Wen, initially smiling, shot her foolish son a glare before leisurely ushering the ladies to a side hall to inspect the wedding gifts.
She teased Yunxiu, "Staying cooped up in Yongshou Palace was suffocating. Thanks to you, Noble Consort Yi, I finally get some fresh air—even if it means working."
Yunxiu smiled but said nothing, looking ready to assist. Noble Consort Wen hastily shooed her away. "You’re carrying twins! Don’t trouble yourself with this."
Just then, a commotion erupted at the front. Murmurs spread—the Crown Prince and his bride had arrived.
The Crown Prince rode in, a red silk ball hanging from his neck, radiating confidence. He dismounted smoothly, accepted a red-feathered arrow, and drew his bow with effortless grace. The arrow struck true, embedding itself in the sedan’s beam to thunderous applause.
Jingchu’s vision was veiled in crimson by her bridal veil. Her heart pounded wildly until she heard the command to descend. Rustling fabric and soft breaths filled her ears before the Crown Prince’s amused voice cut through: "Take my hand."
Instantly, her heart settled.
"Bow to heaven and earth!"
Their hands brushed within wide sleeves before parting reluctantly. Kangxi, seated high above, missed the subtlety, but Yunxiu noticed and smiled approvingly.
Kneeling with the red silk in hand, the Crown Prince’s grin never wavered. When his gaze flickered to Yunxiu, surprise and joy flashed in his eyes, widening his smile further.
At last, the master of ceremonies declared, "The rites are complete!"
The wedding party swept the bride toward the bridal chamber in jubilation.
Kangxi, rarely indulgent, called for wine to toast the occasion. The inner court had prepared a private banquet—reserved for the Emperor—but Yunxiu, at leisure, was granted the honor of joining him.
Outside, Chief Steward Liang Jiugong’s expression darkened when he spotted a dust-covered guard—one he recognized from Qianqing Palace.
Dread coiled in his gut. The guard, spotting him, rushed over as if to a lifeline. Wiping his face, he rasped, "Chief Steward, I must report to His Majesty—an assassin hid among the palace maids assigned to the main courtyard. She attacked the Eleventh Prince... but His Highness is unharmed! He subdued her with powder—"
Liang Jiugong’s mind blanked. He couldn’t bear to hear the rest, his hands trembling violently.
How could this happen to the Eleventh Prince?
"Come with me—now!" he choked out.
Inside, Kangxi’s face drained of color at the news. His wine cup clattered to the floor as he shot to his feet. Yunxiu turned deathly pale.
Only when the guard hastily clarified that Yinzi had felled the assassin unharmed did she exhale in relief. Yet terror lingered, sapping her strength—her legs too weak to stand.
As a mother, one hopes their child possesses the ability to protect themselves, wishing such skills might one day prove useful. Yet when crisis truly strikes, who could genuinely rejoice?
The fact that the attack occurred on the night of the Crown Prince’s wedding revealed the sinister intentions of those behind it. They believed that if something happened to The Eleventh Prince, the Emperor would inevitably blame Yinreng and Jingchu, driving a wedge between them. Not only would this create discord, but Yunxiu might also be plunged into overwhelming grief, endangering the unborn child she carried.
Furthermore, the Crown Prince’s reputation and authority would suffer a devastating blow. If assassins could infiltrate the main courtyard, and if even his younger brother in the bridal chamber couldn’t be safeguarded, what right did he have to remain the Qing Dynasty’s heir apparent?
This grand wedding would become a mockery. Whispers might even spread that the Crown Princess was ill-fated, unworthy of her position.
After piecing together the scheme, Yunxiu’s eyes turned icy—what a ruthless move, killing four birds with one stone.
"How could assassins breach the main courtyard?" Noble Consort Yi managed to remain composed, but Kangxi struggled to contain his fury.
With Yunxiu by his side, he retained a sliver of rationality. Closing his eyes briefly, he finally said, "Suppress the news. For tonight, keep this from the Crown Prince and Guargiya. Interrogate the assassin thoroughly." Then, through gritted teeth, he added, "Do not let her die easily."
The guards bowed in acknowledgment, their heads lowered in unease.
The Emperor’s voice was frigid. "For failing in your duty, each of you will receive twenty strokes of the cane."
At once, the guards’ tension dissolved into relief, and they kowtowed repeatedly in gratitude. Twenty strokes was an act of mercy—a punishment they deserved for such a grave oversight.
Once she regained her strength, Yunxiu rose slowly, her voice laced with worry. "Was Yinzi frightened? Is he still in his brother and sister-in-law’s bridal chamber?"
She could no longer hold back; she needed to see him.
Kangxi twisted his jade ring anxiously, his heart unsettled, until a guard respectfully reported, "The Eleventh Prince remains calm. Far from being frightened, he wounded the assassin himself. He even had a side chamber prepared, waiting dutifully for Your Majesties. His Highness also asked this servant to relay to the Crown Prince that he was too tired to continue as the bed-pressing attendant and begged forgiveness."
As Yunxiu listened, a smile broke through her worry. Kangxi, however, was stunned, his anger vanishing entirely, replaced by pride and even joy.
Though the timing was hardly appropriate, his delight was undeniable. "Good," he said firmly. "Truly my son."
Liang Jiugong stood gaping, still processing the news, before hastily following the Emperor and Noble Consort as they quietly made their way to The Eleventh Prince’s chamber.
Hearing their approach, Yinzi rushed out. Beaming, he called sweetly, "Imperial Father! Mother!"
Kangxi scrutinized him head to toe, his relief now complete. He was about to praise him—"undaunted in danger," "remarkably brave," "a true young man"—when Yunxiu, her eyes reddening, moved to embrace him.
But Yinzi stretched out his reddened palms, pouting as he whined, "Mother, my hands sting."
