An air of solemn righteousness nearly swept through the imperial study, leaving everyone momentarily dazed.
Setting aside the lofty rhetoric of loyalty to the sovereign and love for the country, if they heard correctly, Young Master Fulu had described the Third Prince as "unable to tie up a chicken"—was this praise or criticism? Liang Jiugong couldn’t quite tell, but he saw His Majesty’s face brimming with approval, as if overlooking the subtle impropriety in Fulu’s words, moved instead by the boy’s fiery, youthful spirit. "Excellent!" the emperor declared loudly. "Truly a fine young man, a thoroughbred raised with care by the Guoluoluo family!"
It seemed the request to join the military campaign had been granted.
The moment the words "unable to tie up a chicken" left Fulu’s lips, the Third Prince had sensed trouble. Within moments, his premonition came true.
What did they mean by "blades and arrows have no eyes"? Was Fulu planning to drag him onto the battlefield?
His mother had repeatedly warned him—he was still young and must not act recklessly. There would be time later to prove himself in battle. Managing supply lines was just as crucial; if done well, the merit would be no less than that of the vanguard. If he excelled, the emperor would surely value him even more.
Yet Fulu had spoken those words, cutting off all his escape routes. The Third Prince’s face darkened with fury. At this point, could he even refuse?
Avoiding the battlefield would brand him a coward—the two were now synonymous. Fulu, at just twelve, was already bold enough to chase military glory. If he shrank back, how much ridicule would he face?
Had his mother even hinted at her plans to the emperor?
"Your praise is too kind, Uncle," Fulu said with a grin, revealing two small canine teeth, his eyes brimming with admiration. Seizing the moment, he pressed further: "Please grant your nephew’s wish! The march will be long, and I’d like to share quarters with the Third Prince, sparring daily. I swear I won’t let him take more enemy heads than I do!"
Their similar ages made it a fine idea. The emperor was about to nod when a faint memory stirred. He glanced at his third son, who was barely concealing his shock and anger, and chuckled. "I understand your zeal. But both of you are still young. There will be plenty of time to prove your loyalty. Why not oversee the supply lines together?"
Fulu immediately protested.
With a solemn expression, he said, "Uncle, ledgers give me a headache. Aside from the vanguard, I’ve no place to go. Why not let the Third Prince—" He cast a regretful glance at Yin Zhi’s slender arms and legs, then lowered his voice, muttering reluctantly, "I won’t be a coward, no matter what."
The whisper faded but reached the Third Prince’s ears clearly.
Now, Yin Zhi had no choice but to speak.
Straightening his posture, he clasped his hands and bowed, though inwardly he was seething—his mother’s plans had been utterly ruined. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Imperial Father, though Fulu’s words may be exaggerated, I fear neither the battlefield nor bloodshed. I beg Your Majesty’s permission."
The last few words were squeezed out as if draining his strength. If his words had a will of their own, they would have devoured Fulu alive.
As for Fulu, the dimples on his cheeks never faded. Having achieved his goal, praise flowed effortlessly: "This servant admires the Third Prince most of all!"
The Fifth Prince watched the spectacle quietly, convinced his cousin had done this deliberately—to provoke the Third Prince.
After Kangxi inquired about their studies, offered a few words of encouragement, and dismissed them, the hour had grown late. The Fifth Prince, unable to contain his amazement, resolved to recount everything to his mother. Not only had his cousin swayed the emperor, but he’d also nearly made the Third Prince lose his composure!
Yet none of these feats excused his recklessness.
Yinqi’s eyes gleamed with mischief—he’d relay every detail to his mother later.
When Noble Consort Yi learned that Fulu had scurried off to seek an audience with Kangxi—and that the emperor had indulged his mischief—she fell silent for a long moment.
Suppressing the urge to summon Fulu and box his ears, she took a deep breath.
Perhaps guilt had caught up with him after his impulsiveness, for Fulu began avoiding Yuqing Palace after classes, even hesitating to return home—as if considering camping out in the study hall.
Hearing this, Yunxiu could only shake her head, torn between anger and amusement. "He treats me like some monster," she snorted to Ruizhu.
"Your Ladyship has always cared for Young Master Fulu. It’s only natural he feels remorse," Ruizhu soothed. "Besides, the boy has heaven-sent strength, and with His Majesty and his father watching over him, there’s no need to worry. Children must find their own path."
Yes, children must find their own path.
Resting a hand on her slightly rounded belly, Yunxiu’s eyes softened. "I can’t force him, after all."
A faint smile touched her lips. "Tell him to come greet me properly instead of skulking about. If he has the energy to provoke the Third Prince and ruin Consort Rong’s schemes, he’s done me an unintentional favor. Why would I scold him without cause?"
A young prodigy with ambitions beyond the confines of the palace—small age mattered little.
The Ma brothers of the Fucha clan were also joining the campaign. Yunxiu resolved to send word outside the palace, asking them to keep an eye on Fulu.
Her thoughts raced ahead—preparation was key. She would stock up on trauma ointments made from the Guoluoluo family’s secret recipes. Even if unused, they could forge goodwill in the army.
Forging goodwill… Consort Rong must have thought the same.
The mention of Consort Rong brought to mind Princess Rongxian, the Balin Tribe, and the seemingly absurd reason behind the Third Prince’s involvement. As Kangxi’s true eldest daughter, how could he not take her marriage seriously?
"They’re all good children," Yunxiu murmured. "But why must Yin Zhi push himself so hard?"
Against Fulu’s natural strength, even the Eldest Prince relied on years of experience to hold his own in brute contests. How could the Third Prince, a scholar at heart, hope to compete?
This might well be a case of the biter bit.
Her reflections lasted but a moment. Composing herself, Yunxiu called for paper and brush, jotting down a few names.
"Have my brother investigate these missionaries discreetly. If they’re not in the capital, search Guangzhou. Foreigners are easy to spot—spare no effort or expense," she instructed softly.
Ruizhu accepted the list, glancing briefly without question before curtsying in acknowledgment.
Yet doubt lingered—why missionaries?
As if hearing her thoughts, Yunxiu turned toward the window. Outside, lush foliage thrived, and potted crabapple blossoms added vibrant splashes of red.
A pause, then a faint smile. "For testing medicine."
Meanwhile, in Zhongcui Palace—
"Fulu backed me into a corner. I had no choice." Yin Zhi knelt on the cold tiles, his face a picture of remorse. "Mother, Sister, punish me as you will—"
"Mother—!"
Consort Rong swayed, barely steadying herself against Princess Rongxian.
The Guoluoluo family—always the Guoluoluo family.
The surroundings fell into silence for a long moment. She closed her eyes briefly before finally speaking in a cold voice, "Your mother has schemed desperately, even going so far as to exploit your sister’s marriage—for what? So you could indulge in momentary recklessness? Or do you think you’ve lived long enough and wish to send your white-haired mother to mourn her black-haired son?"
Even though the imperial princes were guarded by dedicated protectors and would never be allowed to fall into danger, Consort Rong was still terrified—so much so that she couldn’t sleep at night, her hands and feet icy with fear.
Yin Zhi had never killed anyone in his life. All the unsavory matters had been kept far from him, handled entirely by her, just so he could study without worries. How could he possibly face the bloodshed of the battlefield and charge bravely at the front lines?
Yin Zhi was only fourteen this year. If he were to injure his arm, his leg, or—heaven forbid—his face… At the thought, Consort Rong shuddered violently. What would be the point of all their scheming then? Everything would be ruined.
Endless gloom clouded her mind as she snapped sharply, "You fool!"
He was the only son she had left. After Princess Rongxian’s distant marriage, he had become her sole reliance for the rest of her life. That was why she had guarded and cherished him with such care. Yet, all it took was a provocation from that Guoluoluo boy, and their carefully laid plans were shattered in an instant.
Everyone knew Fulu possessed extraordinary strength. If he stuck to Yin Zhi like a shadow, crushing him into the dust, how could they hope to forge alliances, earn military merits, or gain the Emperor’s and the generals’ favor?
And let alone the fact that the Eldest Prince was already a shining example of valor.
This move, so meticulously planned, had been wasted.
Consort Rong pressed her fingers to her temples, her expression cold and grim.
The more she thought about it, the more alarmed she became. Lately, luck had turned against her. Everything had changed drastically, slipping from her grasp one by one, leaving her powerless—nothing like the confident strategist she once was.
First, it was the Eleventh Prince, then Fulu of the Guoluoluo family—each time, her plans were thwarted. Could it be that Noble Consort Yi was under divine protection, and those who opposed her were doomed to suffer?
What a ridiculous notion.
Exhaling slowly, she forced a reassuring smile in response to Princess Rongxian’s deeply worried gaze. Turning to the Third Prince, she softened her tone, "Rise. Your mother was simply overreacting out of concern. Gaining experience in this expedition to suppress the rebellion might not be a bad thing. But you must never disregard your safety—do you understand? Your mother and your sister would be sick with worry."
Even Yin Zhi, dense as he was, could tell Consort Rong’s smile was strained.
Clenching his fists tightly, he silently repeated Fulu’s name in his mind. After a moment, he took a deep breath and said, "I understand, Mother."
On the eve of the army’s departure in late spring of the 29th year of Kangxi’s reign, Yuqing Palace was thrown into early chaos.
"Has the spare clothing been prepared by Sister-in-law? And everything else packed?" Yunxiu yawned lightly. Perhaps due to her advancing pregnancy, her appetite had improved, and she had grown increasingly drowsy.
Two large redwood chests stood neatly in the hall. She bent down with some difficulty, briefly rifling through their contents.
"Your Majesty, everything Young Master Fulu might need is ready—dry rations, silver, and both internal and external medicines," Ruizhu reported cheerfully. "There’s also a set of golden chainmail armor sent from Yuqing Palace, one that the Crown Prince used as a child. It still looks brand new."
Yunxiu nodded with a smile, about to speak, when a voice announced from outside, "The Emperor has arrived!"
So early in the morning? Had he come straight after court?
Kangxi strode in, his phoenix eyes softening with faint warmth at the sight of Yunxiu.
Noticing the two open redwood chests, he stepped forward to inspect them. His heart instantly melted with tenderness. Taking her jade-white hands in his, he couldn’t suppress the upward curve of his lips. "You’ve been so thoughtful."
