Yunxiu's tone was soft and gentle, yet her eyes held a faint trace of mockery.
The concubines seated below her all stiffened, their expressions shifting—her words had struck a familiar chord of fear. Noble Consort Yi had never been known for her patience, and after a prolonged period of calm in Yikun Palace, they had nearly forgotten her notorious arrogance and mercilessness.
Political affairs? Meddling in governance? Noble Consort Yi was subtly reminding them that the imperial harem had no place in state matters, ridiculing them for overstepping their bounds.
Some of the women turned pale, their faces alternating between green and white. If they dared to approach the Emperor directly, why would they be here in the first place? Her words were nothing short of trampling their dignity underfoot.
Even Consort Rong, known for her impeccable grace and composure, found her gentle smile fading slightly. Her expression shifted for only a fleeting moment before returning to normal. She exuded an air of serenity, as if steeped in the fragrance of incense, and her voice carried a soothing, meditative quality as she rose to bow in apology. "This humble one has overstepped, Your Highness. It was my fault."
To the ear, her words dripped with sincerity. For an instant, the hall was so silent one could hear a pin drop.
Consort Rong was one of the most senior concubines in the palace. Once highly favored by the Emperor, she was the mother of the Third Prince and Princess Rongxian. Even if the Emperor’s affection for her had waned, the bond of years spent together remained. She had never made a single misstep in all these years, and her influence was far beyond what the others could match.
Compared to Consort Hui, they still remembered that the relationship between Noble Consort Yi and Consort Rong had never been openly hostile. Back in the twenty-third year of Kangxi’s reign, after the southern tour, the two had even strolled through the gardens together, conversing pleasantly. Though their thoughts might have differed beneath the surface, appearances had always been maintained.
Why, then, was Noble Consort Yi now refusing to spare her even the slightest face?
They had merely shown concern over the Emperor’s personal campaign—how had it escalated to this point?
Some stole glances at Consort Rong, already considering retreat. But before they could act, Noble Consort Yi’s next words left them frozen in fear.
With a light laugh, Yunxiu said airily, "Since you’ve overstepped, shouldn’t you be punished?"
It had been years since Consort Rong last faced such open aggression.
Even the dullest among them could sense Yunxiu’s unusual attitude—as if no matter what Consort Rong said, it would be wrong, as if her words held no weight at all.
It reminded her of those days over a decade ago when she was still a low-ranking concubine, vulnerable to others’ whims, and the quiet resentment she had felt upon being ranked last among the four consorts. Her grip tightened on her embroidered handkerchief, her breath hitching slightly.
There was no reason for Noble Consort Yi to suddenly turn against her—unless she had discovered something.
Had the Guo’erluo clan uncovered her schemes?
Her thoughts raced as she lowered her eyes and murmured softly, "How does Your Highness wish to punish this humble one?"
Yunxiu studied her, suddenly recalling a dream—a vision of the new Emperor’s ascension, where young concubines flocked to the newly elevated Empress Dowager De in Yonghe Palace, fawning over her in a scene of bustling festivity.
Meanwhile, Yikun Palace stood desolate, the only sound the rustling of fallen leaves.
After the late Emperor’s passing, she had fallen gravely ill—burning with fever, delirious. Aside from the summoned physicians and the anxious Fifth and Ninth Princes, everyone else had kept their distance.
Only Zhongcui Palace had sent someone to visit, bringing along precious medicinal herbs. In a time when most avoided even the appearance of association, such a gesture was rare and unforgettable. She had treasured it in her heart.
It was this heaven-sent dream, this glimpse of the future, that had kept her from ever doubting Consort Rong’s actions. Over the years, she had maintained a peaceful relationship with her, even harboring a measure of goodwill.
But she had been mistaken. Gratitude was one thing, vengeance another. The future had already changed beyond recognition—how could she expect people to remain the same, blindly following the path laid out in her dreams?
Years ago, before she became Noble Consort Yi, when the Emperor had entrusted the three consorts with managing the harem, she still remembered the sharp, cutting rivalry between Consort Rong and Consort Hui. Half of it must have been an act—a way to lull others into complacency while she quietly planted her spies.
Coming back to the present, Yunxiu scoffed inwardly. Perhaps she had never truly understood Consort Rong.
"This one is prone to morning temper—just a jest, Sister Rong. Pay it no mind." She curved her lips in a lazy smile. "Ah, but I grow weary again."
With that, she dismissed Consort Rong without another glance and repeated, "This one does not meddle in state affairs. If you seek answers, go to the Emperor. You may all leave now."
With Noble Consort Yi’s clear dismissal, lingering would be nothing short of insolence. The concubines below forced smiles and bowed in acquiescence. Once outside the hall, they turned anxiously to Consort Rong, who stood in the shadow of a corridor corner, her usual gentle demeanor replaced by something colder, her eyes downcast in a way that sent a chill down their spines.
Concubine Xi had been ready to gloat, but the sight made her shudder involuntarily.
"Sister Rong, about Qianqing Palace…" she ventured hesitantly.
After a long pause, Consort Rong stepped out of the shadows and smiled. "Today was my oversight. Noble Consort Yi is right—as imperial consorts, we should not interfere in state affairs. The Emperor’s personal campaign is likely already decided. Let us return to our palaces."
After the visit to Yikun Palace, Consort Rong realized with a jolt that the situation had slipped beyond her control. The network she had painstakingly built over the years sent her pulse racing, though she was far from panicked.
After all, she still had her foundations.
Once back in her palace, she asked softly, "What of Consort Hui’s situation?"
After careful consideration, the only major flaw lay in the incense that had driven Consort Hui to madness. The remaining calming incense had been disposed of, but what if traces of the previous batches remained?
Though months had passed, making it unlikely, one could never be too careful. Had the pawn she placed in Yanxi Palace covered all possibilities?
"Please wait a moment, Your Highness. This servant will check the side gate." Her personal maid quickly curtsied.
They had their own discreet methods of communication, designed to avoid detection. Half an hour later, the maid returned, her face pale.
Under Consort Rong’s questioning gaze, she trembled as she spoke. "Your Highness… Yanxi Palace… this servant could not make contact."
The bad news kept coming. Not just Yanxi Palace—Chuxiu Palace, the Palace of Universal Happiness… all her pawns seemed to have vanished without a trace.
The sudden, complete severance of all connections left even the ever-calculating, unflappable Consort Rong momentarily shaken.
Such a sweeping operation, yet she had noticed nothing. She immediately sent people to investigate, only to hear that Chief Eunuch Liang had been ordered to purge the inner palace—to prevent a repeat of the assassination attempt on the Eleventh Prince.
The assassination attempt on the Eleventh Prince.
Consort Rong found it absurd. "That was ages ago. Why purge the palace now? Wasn’t the Imperial Household Department already reorganized?"
"Replying to Your Highness… Noble Consort Wen proposed it. She said… to avoid alerting the enemy, they should wait a while before… before…" The messenger faltered, lowering his head.
Consort Rong stiffened, her expression darkening.
Since when had Noble Consort Wen possessed such sharp instincts, rooting out every single one of her agents?
These pawns had taken years to cultivate. Her breath hitched, her heart bleeding at the loss. Such blatant targeting—if she failed to recognize it now, she would be the greatest fool of all.
But soon, Consort Rong dismissed the thought.
This purge… perhaps it wasn’t aimed solely at her.
Not only Zhongcui Palace, but every palace was thrown into chaos. The concubines with guilty consciences were restless with fear, their expressions all too familiar to Consort Rong—how similar they were to her own state just days ago.
"Consort Rong, this humble servant must trouble you." When Liang Jiugong arrived with a smiling apology, taking away a low-ranking palace sweeper and a storeroom attendant before replacing them with new personnel from the Imperial Household Department, Consort Rong maintained a calm and flawless exterior. Yet beneath the surface, a cold sweat trickled down her spine.
These two men had secretly pledged loyalty to another master—she had deliberately left them behind to mislead prying eyes.
Looking across the Six Palaces, she was not the only one affected. What about the Guo’erluo clan?
The next day, during the morning greetings at Cining Palace, Yunxiu’s lips were slightly downturned, her fingers idly tracing the cuffs of her sleeves, clearly displeased. Noble Consort Wen leaned in to whisper something to her, prompting a faint frown and a strained smile. Consort Rong observed them from the corner of her eye for a long while before finally calming her nerves. She lowered her gaze, her heart shrouded in gloom.
Every time she thought of it, the pain was unbearable. Losing these pawns had nearly thrown her off balance—it was no different from losing an arm or being blinded.
From now on, she could no longer scheme with ease. Consort Rong clenched her fists tightly.
The Eleventh Prince...
What a mess this was.
Her eyes darkened like an unfathomable abyss. The Third Prince, Yin Zhi, who had come to Zhongcui Palace to pay his respects, called out worriedly, "Mother, did you not sleep well last night?"
Consort Rong snapped out of her thoughts, rubbing her temples before forcing a gentle smile. "I slept soundly. I was merely distracted thinking about your father’s upcoming personal campaign."
Yin Zhi was fourteen this year. Though he was more inclined toward literature and books, like any young imperial prince of his age, he yearned for the thrill of battle and conquest.
Yet, his father seemed to have no intention of taking him along.
If only he could earn military merit...
Mentioning how the Eldest Prince would accompany the Emperor day and night on the battlefield, Yin Zhi couldn’t hide his envy and simmering resentment. He took a deep breath and said, "Mother, if only I were two years older."
Consort Rong closed her eyes for a moment before softly stroking her son’s braid. After a long silence, she murmured, "What’s so good about charging into battle? It only gives your mother worry. If you could secure a position in logistics or supply, your contributions would be no less than the Eldest Prince’s."
She knew full well that her Yin Zhi excelled in scholarship, not martial prowess, and was still too young for the frontlines.
Hearing this, the Third Prince’s eyes brightened. "Mother, is it truly possible?"
"Emperor Shunzhi ascended the throne at six, and His Majesty began ruling at eight. You’re already of marriageable age—why shouldn’t you go?" Consort Rong said gently. "With your mother and Princess Rongxian by your side, we will make arrangements for you. Just wait for good news."
Once the upheaval in the inner palace had settled, the Emperor finally confirmed his personal campaign. As announced in court, the Crown Prince would oversee state affairs in his absence, while the Eldest Prince would accompany the army. The younger princes, deemed too immature for such an expedition, were instructed to focus on their studies instead.
When the Fifth Prince, Yinqi, arrived with his attendant Fulu to pay respects and cautiously brought up the latter’s request, Yunxiu nearly choked on her tea. "Nonsense."
At twelve years old, Fulu was far taller and more robust than his peers. His sharp, spirited eyes and the youthful vigor he exuded were offset only by the two pointed little fangs that peeked out when he grinned, along with faint dimples that made him all the more endearing.
"Auntie," he pleaded, blinking pitifully, "I’m not a child anymore. Couldn’t you put in a word for me with Uncle?"
That expression was no different from when he was a chubby little boy in a skullcap, sweet-talking his way into everyone’s hearts. Yunxiu’s resolve softened despite herself, though she kept a stern face. "The battlefield is no place for recklessness. What if you never return? Do you want to be the death of your parents?"
"But Father is going too, Auntie," Fulu persisted, blinking rapidly. "With him watching over me, there’s nothing to fear."
Yinqi glanced between them, thinking to himself, Nothing to fear? You cower like a mouse before Uncle Tuyue. If he finds out, he’ll break both your legs.
Fulu’s eager enthusiasm only deepened Yunxiu’s worry. Though he was a skilled fighter, she couldn’t bear the thought of sending a twelve-year-old into danger—yet she also hated to crush his hopes.
Then again, her nephew was clever as a fox. He’d probably turn the camp upside down and give the commander a headache. But what if he got hurt? What if the worst happened?
A mother’s worry knew no bounds—and an aunt’s was no different. Within moments, she steeled herself and coldly dismissed them. "Fulu, this is sheer foolishness. Don’t bring it up again. I will never agree."
Fulu trudged away dejectedly. Seeing him so dispirited, Yinqi patted his shoulder sympathetically. "I told you Mother wouldn’t allow it. It’s not about your skills—you’re just too young. No one would feel at ease."
Fulu sighed dramatically. "Cousin, you’re twelve too. Yet I’d trust you just fine."
You little brat, what’s that supposed to mean?
The memory of Fulu effortlessly lifting a boulder as a child, along with his repeated dominance in archery lessons, had left an indelible mark on the Fifth Prince. Over the years, he’d never dared pull rank, terrified his cousin might smack his head clean off. So he swallowed his retort and scrambled for comforting words instead.
"At least you don’t have to go—think of it as a blessing. Didn’t Mencius say, ‘Heaven bestows great tasks only after tempering one’s body and resolve’? Consider your age a trial. When you’re older, Father will be the first to send you to the front!"
Fulu’s head buzzed with confusion. Something about that didn’t sound right, but he couldn’t pinpoint what.
Is that really how Mencius’ words are used?
At the mention of "Father," Fulu suddenly perked up, clapping his hands together with a bright grin. "I’ve got it!"
Yinqi paused mid-consolation. "Got what?"
Fulu beamed. "Cousin, come with me to Qianqing Palace. We’re going to see Uncle."
There was a little secret in the Imperial Study.
The Third Prince, Yin Zhi, adored classical texts—but when it came to Fulu, the Fifth Prince’s attendant and Noble Consort Yi’s nephew, his attitude was anything but scholarly. Despite their similar ages, the two were like oil and water.
One excelled in literature, the other in martial arts—they should have had no reason to clash. But once, when the Emperor paid a visit, Fulu had sweetly called out, "Uncle!" Kangxi affectionately ruffled his hair, right in front of Yin Zhi.
Seizing a moment when no one was looking, the Third Prince pulled Fulu aside and snapped, "Noble Consort Yi is not Father’s empress. How dare you address him as ‘Uncle’?"
Fulu didn’t see the problem. "Then what should I call him?"
"You should observe proper decorum—refer to yourself as ‘this servant’ and address him as ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘the Emperor.’ And as for Noble Consort Yi, you must call her ‘Your Highness,’ not ‘Auntie.’ And the Fifth Prince—stop calling him ‘Cousin.’ It’s improper—"
Fulu ignored him, only murmuring in a low voice, "Nonsense. His Majesty permits me to call him that."
The Third Prince was seething with anger. Seeing that Fulu showed no remorse and continued to address him so familiarly, his displeasure only grew. By the time the Eldest Prince and the Crown Prince had begun attending court to discuss state affairs, within three years, no one could outshine Fulu in archery and horsemanship—not even the eldest of them, the Third Prince. From then on, the two became sworn enemies.
Fulu had powerful backing, and for the time being, the Third Prince could do nothing about it. Humiliated, he buried his resentment deep in his heart, confiding in no one. Consort Rong remained unaware, as did Princess Rongxian. After all, it was merely a childish feud, hardly worth mentioning.
Yet in the quiet of the night, the Third Prince sometimes couldn’t help but feel a twinge of bitterness—Emperor Kangxi’s affection for Fulu was genuine.
He couldn’t compare to the Eldest Prince, nor to the Second Prince. If things continued this way, he wouldn’t even measure up to an outsider.
Truth be told, these were all long-past grievances. Fulu saw through it all with crystal clarity—the Third Prince despised him. Was he supposed to grovel in gratitude for such "favor"?
The man preached propriety all day long, lecturing him with high-sounding words, yet the look in his eyes commanded no respect.
No rule could outweigh the Emperor’s will. How could someone be so rigid?
In a flurry of impatience, Fulu dragged the Fifth Prince to Qianqing Palace. The person waiting before them had a back of the head he recognized all too well. A phrase flashed through Fulu’s mind: Fate loves to play cruel tricks.
"Eunuch Liang, what’s this—?"
"Ah, Young Master Fulu! Greetings to the Fifth Prince and Young Master Fulu." Hearing the eunuch’s report, Liang Jiugong hurried out with a beaming smile. "As it happens, His Majesty has summoned the Third Prince for an important matter. What a coincidence! His Majesty has also instructed that you and the Fifth Prince join the audience."
Fulu arched an eyebrow, casting a glance at the Third Prince, whose expression had shifted slightly. With a sweet smile and faint dimples on his cheeks, he said, "Thank you, Eunuch Liang. You’ve worked hard delivering the message."
Liang Jiugong was thoroughly pleased, his face blooming like a flower. "You flatter me, you flatter me! Please, this way."
The imperial study was lightly scented with ambergris, its fragrance soothing the mind.
Kangxi set down the memorial in his hand and, at a glance, saw the three young men standing in a row—straight as poplars, their posture impeccable. His mood instantly brightened.
"Yin Zhi," the Emperor began, addressing the Third Prince with warmth. "Your mother has spoken to Us. Princess Rongxian is of a suitable age to marry the prince of the Balin Tribe, but having never met him, she is understandably concerned. This time, the army will pass through southern Mongolia and remain stationed there for a time. Why not go and see him for your sister? Barring any surprises, he will be your future brother-in-law."
This meant he was to join the campaign.
His long-held wish fulfilled, the Third Prince suppressed his excitement and bowed deeply. "This son thanks His Majesty for his boundless grace!"
The Fifth Prince’s eyes widened slightly. The Third Brother is going too?
Fulu stared at Yin Zhi’s back, feeling an uncontrollable surge of sourness in his chest. He stepped forward, cupped his hands, and declared loudly, "Your Majesty, this servant also wishes to join the battlefield and fight the enemy!"
To emphasize his resolve, he didn’t even call him "Uncle."
"Nonsense." Kangxi frowned, instinctively reprimanding him, though his tone was neither harsh nor light. "How old are you? Don’t make your aunt worry."
"Since ancient times, heroes have emerged from among the young. The Third Prince is undoubtedly a prodigy, and this servant admires him deeply." Fulu discreetly sized him up, thinking disdainfully, With those scrawny arms and legs, wouldn’t he just make a fool of himself on the battlefield?
Who would willingly become a laughingstock?
With righteous fervor, he proclaimed, "Your Majesty, even if the Third Prince lacks the strength to truss a chicken, his loyalty to the throne is second to none. If he fears not the perils of war, how could I possibly shrink from them?"
