Cining Palace.
Though only a single night had passed, the Empress Dowager appeared to have aged decades. Her temples were streaked with white, as if she had stepped into the twilight of her years. Her trembling fingers moved over the prayer beads as she sat cross-legged on the heated platform, motionless for a long while.
Sumalagu, witnessing this, felt her eyes redden. "Grand Empress Dowager—"
"The Emperor has not yet returned to the palace. This old one cannot collapse." The Empress Dowager exhaled slowly before speaking in a measured tone, "Since Consort Rong is worried about Yin Zhi, let her go. The traveling palace needs a mistress to oversee matters, lest the servants grow lax."
She would have rushed to Xuanye’s side overnight if she could, but her frail body could no longer endure such strain.
"Yes." Sumalagu nodded, tears welling in her eyes. Then, as if remembering something, she stepped closer and whispered, "Grand Empress Dowager, the one His Majesty wishes to see—"
"She is with child. How could she endure the hardships of such a journey?" The Empress Dowager shook her head slowly. "Moreover, malaria spreads easily. Noble Consort Yi must not be put at risk. If anything were to happen to her, would it not carve the Emperor’s heart out?"
Sumalagu bit back her tears.
Indeed, the Emperor would never wish for Noble Consort Yi to venture into danger.
"She has the Fifth Prince, the Ninth Prince, Little Eleventh, and the Crown Prince’s filial devotion. Even if she becomes a dowager consort, she will live comfortably." The Empress Dowager closed her eyes, her voice thick as if choked by cotton. "This is enough. This is enough."
After a pause, she spoke again, deliberate and slow, "Summon Baocheng for me. There are matters that can no longer be delayed."
The Crown Prince knelt on the ground, his limbs weak. Gone was his usual composure—his lips trembled. How could this be?
"Malaria?" His gaze was uncharacteristically lost. "Imperial Father… he…"
Since receiving the news, the Empress Dowager had suppressed her grief, forcing herself to remain composed as she managed affairs. But seeing him like this, she could no longer hold back her tears. She pulled the Crown Prince into her arms, her frail frame shaking. "Good child… Your Imperial Father may not have said it, but this old one knows he wishes to see you. Rather than waiting until… until the final days, when an edict arrives from Rehe… it is better for you to speak with him while he is still lucid. Go quickly."
The unspoken meaning of "final days" hung heavy between them.
The Crown Prince shuddered, his voice hoarse. "Grand Empress Dowager—"
Rather than announcing the Emperor’s condition and plunging the court into chaos, it was better to delay. Delay for as long as possible. Only when the Crown Prince safely reached Rehe could she finally allow herself to relent. By then, the news of the Emperor’s grave illness would be impossible to conceal.
"Do not fear. This old one will hold the palace steady." The Empress Dowager wiped away her murky tears, patting his shoulder with slow, maternal reassurance. "And there are still the capable ministers your Imperial Father left behind. The court will not descend into disorder."
"Yesterday, this old one issued a secret decree to summon renowned physicians from across the land. Take them with you. Who knows? A cure may yet be found." Whether she sought to comfort the Crown Prince or herself, her voice wavered. "Baocheng, do not be afraid. Your Imperial Father will outlive this old one."
The Crown Prince stumbled out of the hall in a daze, his feet leaden. His eyes were bloodshot, his heart in turmoil. Waves of dread surged within him, thick and suffocating, clinging to his chest like tar. The blazing sun outside could not dispel the icy chill in his bones.
Despite Noble Consort Yi’s guidance—teaching him not to see the Emperor solely as his father, but to understand the delicate balance between ruler and heir—now, faced with this…
Yinreng stood motionless, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the blinding sky until his vision blurred and his eyes ached. Only then did he slowly close them.
If only Imperial Father’s health could be restored, I would willingly remain Crown Prince for the rest of my life.
The words were sincere, without a trace of falsehood.
After what felt like an eternity, the Crown Prince steadied his frayed nerves and strode forward with solemn determination.
As he passed a corner of Cining Palace’s gardens, a familiar figure caught his eye. The chief eunuch of Noble Consort Yi’s palace, Zhang Youde?
Under the scorching sun, Zhang Youde’s forehead glistened with sweat, as if he had been waiting for some time. The moment he spotted the Crown Prince’s apricot-yellow robes, he exhaled in relief and hurried forward. "Your Highness, Noble Consort Yi requests your presence."
Yunxiu dismissed her attendants.
Though the Crown Prince kept his gaze lowered, his agitation, grief, and simmering distress were impossible to conceal.
Recalling how the Empress Dowager had summoned Grand Imperial Physician Chen the day before, how Sumalagu had rushed to Consort Rong’s palace, and how this morning, only junior physicians remained in the Imperial Hospital… Yunxiu’s fingers curled slightly. She cut straight to the point. "His Majesty is gravely ill. With what?"
The Crown Prince looked up, startled. His heart lurched. He opened his mouth, but no words came.
Noble Consort Yi simply watched him in silence. The Crown Prince’s nose stung, tears threatening once more. He drew a deep breath, realizing concealment was futile.
Noble Consort Yi loved the Emperor deeply. How could she bear such a blow?
His voice was barely audible. "Malaria."
The hall fell into prolonged silence.
The Crown Prince clenched his fists, struggling to contain his sorrow. He forced a smile, though his handsome face remained strained. "Do not worry, Noble Consort Yi. His Majesty is the true Son of Heaven. No evil can touch him—"
Yunxiu interrupted him, a faint arch to her brow. "Why place faith in empty superstitions? This consort only knows that Your Highness has secured a miraculous cure for His Majesty’s illness. You will journey to Rehe without delay, even if it means defying convention."
The Crown Prince’s reassurances died in his throat. For a moment, he thought he had misheard.
A miraculous cure? What cure?
Seeing his stunned expression, Yunxiu chuckled, her peach-blossom eyes crinkling. "Cinchona bark."
The Crown Prince remained dumbfounded, stammering, "Ci—cinchona?"
"It is a remedy for malaria, held by the missionaries. The foreigners call it quinine." Her smile lingered as she explained succinctly. Then, after a long pause, she added softly, "His Majesty’s condition cannot be delayed. You must depart the palace at once—and take one more person with you."
Two days later.
Consort Rong stepped out of the blue-canopied carriage, her steps unsteady, her face ashen.
The journey from the capital had been smooth. Compared to the jolting of a fast horse, the carriage’s motion was gentle, though exhaustion from sleepless nights weighed on her. Yet she could not muster even a semblance of a smile. The shadows in her eyes were too deep to hide.
The Empress Dowager had granted her request, sending Sumalagu once more to deliver the devastating news: the Emperor had contracted malaria.
Even without medical knowledge, Consort Rong understood the horror of malaria—a disease beyond mortal remedy, a death sentence.
The image of Yin Zhi’s scarred face haunted her. Her eyes had been red-rimmed for days, her heart simmering in agony. Now, the Emperor was stricken with this incurable illness, his death imminent. In mere days, her world had turned upside down. How absurd it all was!
Amid the absurdity, a cold resignation settled over her.
The Emperor was dying. The Crown Prince’s ascension was inevitable—merely a matter of time.
She was now the Dowager Consort Rong and had to vacate the Palace of Gathered Elegance to make way for the new emperor's consorts. From this day forward, she could not compare to Mrs. Guoluoluo, who had been close to the Crown Prince, nor to the noble-born Mrs. Niu Gulu. She would inevitably fade into obscurity, withering away in the palace. Rongxian had left her, and Yin Zhi’s ennoblement seemed a distant hope. Who could endure such a life?
Meanwhile, Noble Consort Yi was gloriously elevated to the rank of Dowager Imperial Noble Consort, revered by both the emperor and the empress. Even if she were to torment Consort Rong to death, no one would dare speak up for her.
The night was pitch black, and the palace steward stood waiting with a candle, his nose and mouth covered by a white cloth. After bowing, he respectfully addressed her, "Dowager Consort Rong."
Consort Rong acknowledged him with a faint hum and asked, "How is the emperor?"
The steward lowered his head and remained silent. Seeing this, Consort Rong did not press further and instead said slowly, "I shall request an audience with His Majesty tomorrow. Has the Third Prince retired for the night?"
"Your Highness, the Third Prince requires further rest and has already retired early."
Consort Rong clenched her fists. "Take me to see him."
The steward hesitated, wanting to say it was against protocol, but the sharpness in her gaze startled him into compliance.
Moonlight streamed through the window as Consort Rong sat by the bed, trembling slightly as she touched the unharmed left side of Yin Zhi’s face. The right side was bandaged, faint traces of blood seeping through. She withdrew her hand and, under the anxious gaze of her chief maid, remained silent for a long while.
The next day, the Hall of Refreshing Mists bustled with palace attendants moving swiftly, their mouths covered in white cloth, none daring to speak.
Liang Jiugong’s voice, though soft, was sharp. "Burn this cloth immediately! Have the medicine bowls been cleaned? Move quickly—do not disturb His Majesty!"
In the side chamber, the imperial physicians huddled together, Grand Imperial Physician Chen at the forefront, murmuring in low tones. Their faces were etched with fear and helplessness, unable to reach a conclusion.
The emperor remained conscious for most of the day, yet his symptoms worsened. Persistent coughing, convulsions, palpitations, thirst, and an unrelenting fever left them powerless. The shadow of death loomed over them all.
Even more alarming, five attendants and even the elderly Imperial Physician Tan had contracted the same illness.
Now, only Liang Jiugong, fearless in his loyalty, dared enter the imperial bedchamber. The others knew that stepping inside could mean death—and if the emperor did not recover, they would perish regardless.
All remedies had been tried. Now, they could only pray to the heavens, though deep down, they knew the emperor’s chances of recovery were slim.
Within days, as the emperor’s lucid moments dwindled, they would likely be forced to join him in death.
Kangxi reclined weakly on the kang, his eyes closed in exhaustion.
How were the battles in the western deserts?
The final confrontation was near.
Strategies and troop deployments flashed through his mind before vanishing. Fever and chills wracked his body, leaving him utterly drained. In his delirium, he glimpsed a face—radiant and smiling—calling out to him, "Your Majesty."
Never returning to the Forbidden City might be his lifelong regret.
"Liang Jiugong," he called weakly, raising a feeble hand.
It was time to summon the Crown Prince to Rehe.
But everything had happened too suddenly—his illness, the urgency. If only he had another year, even half a year, he could ensure Baocheng’s smooth succession.
Yet no answer came.
Frowning, Kangxi was interrupted by the creak of the door as Liang Jiugong hurried in, slightly out of breath.
Standing behind the screen, Liang Jiugong suppressed his grief. "Your Majesty, Dowager Consort Rong requests an audience."
Kangxi knew Consort Rong had come to Rehe out of concern for Yin Zhi. He coughed softly. "Let her pay her respects outside."
"Dowager Consort Rong says she has urgent news concerning Noble Consort Yi." A long silence followed.
Kangxi finally said, "Summon her."
Consort Rong entered, her face veiled in white cloth, her eyes composed. She paid no mind to Liang Jiugong trailing behind her. When she saw the screen, she halted.
"Your servant greets Your Majesty," she said calmly.
Without waiting for a response, she sighed. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, for I cannot attend to you in person."
Then, her eyes glinted with amusement. "Did you know, Your Majesty, that Noble Consort Yi has deceived you all along?"
The words struck like a thunderbolt. Kangxi’s breath hitched, and he was about to rebuke her when Liang Jiugong, like a startled cat, hissed, "Dowager Consort Rong, mind your words!"
"Mind my words?" Consort Rong laughed coldly. "I’ve spent a lifetime watching my words, yet I could never compete with Mrs. Guoluoluo’s honeyed lies. Today, I refuse to hold back. Your Majesty, open your eyes—has she ever truly cared for you?"
She unfolded a piece of paper in her hands, smirking. "Even the letters she sent you were penned by another’s hand. This is treason, punishable by death."
"Every word moved me deeply," she said mockingly, handing the paper to Liang Jiugong, who stood frozen. "These were written by talented scholars outside the palace. Your Majesty, let Liang Jiugong bring it to you. Do the words seem familiar?"
Liang Jiugong took the paper, his hands trembling, rooted to the spot.
"What a loyal servant Noble Consort Yi has in you," Consort Rong sneered, her gaze icy. "While you alone tend to His Majesty in his illness, where is your mistress? Has she forgotten him already? She likely prays for his death, so she may revel in freedom with her beloved scribe—"
Liang Jiugong paled, nearly collapsing.
"Silence!" Kangxi roared, coughing violently. "Lady Majia, you go too far!"
Consort Rong flinched but smiled wider.
Before she could continue, a shocked voice announced from outside, "The Crown Prince has arrived! Noble Consort Yi has arrived!"
Consort Rong’s smile vanished.
"Noble Consort Yi, you must not enter!" Outside, voices clamored in protest, Grand Imperial Physician Chen pleading, "Think of your health—think of the young princes and princesses!"
A few moments later, the noise faded.
Then, the door creaked open.
Liang Jiugong’s eyes widened in disbelief.
There stood Yunxiu, travel-worn, her fine silks replaced by simple robes, her face dust-streaked, her hair adorned only with a wooden hairpin.
Frowning slightly, she placed a hand on her abdomen, steadying her breath.
Ignoring Consort Rong, she stepped around the screen and approached Kangxi’s bedside.
"Your Majesty," she said softly, smiling. "I’ve come to stay with you."
