"Your Majesty, the Imperial Noble Consort has arrived." A soft announcement reached Kangxi's ears.
Yunxiu wore a loose-fitting cyan qipao that accentuated her delicate features. After resting in the eastern chamber for some time, her exhaustion had completely dissipated, and her steps were light as she entered the hall.
The emperor’s bedchamber remained unchanged from the morning, its furnishings untouched, yet it seemed inexplicably brighter, devoid of any gloom. A long dining table was set on the kang, bearing a bowl of thick rice porridge with side dishes on one end, and a few light dishes with a bowl of steamed rice on the other. Steam rose faintly in the distance.
Kangxi reclined on the kang, draped in a robe over his inner garments, watching the Imperial Noble Consort approach with an almost eager gaze.
Yunxiu discreetly erased the word "eager" from her mind and sighed inwardly. The emperor had grown noticeably thinner from his illness.
She supposed she could believe his claim of having no appetite.
As she stepped forward to curtsy, Kangxi gestured toward the table and said gently, "No need for formalities. I noticed Liang Jiugong took quite some time—did you just wake?"
Though his malaria had not fully abated, his voice was still weak, yet the worst of his symptoms had subsided to a bearable degree.
"I went to see Consort Rong earlier," Yunxiu replied without reservation, picking up her chopsticks as she sat across from the emperor. Her voice softened. "She harbors some resentment toward me."
At the mention of "Consort Rong," Kangxi’s tender gaze instantly chilled.
"Pay no mind to those lost in delusion," he murmured reassuringly. "I won’t let you suffer any grievances."
Yunxiu pressed her lips into a faint smile and teased, "When have I ever suffered grievances?"
She continued, "But I couldn’t help thinking of Princess Rongxian and the Third Prince. If they learned their mother had abandoned even her own children..."
"Lady Majia deceived the throne, slandered you, and spoke with unforgivable insolence," Kangxi said tersely, his brow darkening with disgust before he shifted the topic. "Rest assured, I would never take my anger out on children. Princess Rongxian is soon to be wed, and Yin Zhi is old enough to understand. They’ll manage without their mother."
He made no mention of Consort Rong’s punishment, and Yunxiu did not press further.
"Have you sent word to Prince Yu and the others?" she asked, recalling the raging battles at the northwestern border. "The Eldest Prince must be anxious to return, deeply worried for Your Majesty."
Kangxi coughed lightly, a faint smile touching his lips. "I followed your suggestion long ago."
These past days, Fuquan had lived up to his expectations. Even as rumors of the emperor’s grave illness stirred unrest among the troops, order had been swiftly restored.
With the enemy cornered and the decisive battle imminent, nothing would boost morale more than joyous tidings from the imperial retreat.
Setting down his bowl, Kangxi felt a mix of regret and pride, his emotions complex. His personal campaign had been cut short—what cruel irony fate had dealt.
The thought passed in an instant. When he looked up at Yunxiu again, his gaze softened like tranquil water.
She had grown more at ease with him—this was no illusion. Moments like these, stealing idle hours for whispered conversations, her beauty a feast for his eyes—he wished time could stand still.
Lost in thought, he deliberately slowed his pace with the porridge.
Yunxiu glanced sideways and paused. The emperor truly seemed to have little appetite; his bowl of thick rice porridge sat barely touched on the table.
Meanwhile, she had eaten to about eighty percent full, chatting and laughing while occasionally serving him dishes. Ironically, his bowl now held a small mountain of food.
"Your Majesty, I’ve had my fill," she said with a light smile. Without waiting for his response, she rose slowly, supporting her waist, and moved from the opposite seat to his side. Leaning forward, she picked up his bowl and stirred the contents with a spoon.
Testing the temperature with the back of her hand, Yunxiu scooped a spoonful and brought it to Kangxi’s lips, her peach-blossom eyes shimmering. "You’re still weak and lacking strength. Let me feed you."
The screen had been removed earlier, leaving Liang Jiugong waiting in the adjoining room with a knowing smile.
Two quarters of an hour passed—no call came to clear the meal.
Half an hour later—still no summons.
Time stretched until Liang Jiugong nearly dozed off, his chin dipping, eyes half-lidded—until Kangxi’s amused voice finally rang out. "Liang Jiugong, it’s late. Escort the Imperial Noble Consort back to her quarters."
To Yunxiu, he added softly, "Staying by my side during the day is enough. A woman with child shouldn’t exhaust herself. Come see me again tomorrow."
Yunxiu hummed in agreement. On the other side, Liang Jiugong jolted awake.
Pushing aside the curtain, the chief eunoch reverted to his usual cheerful demeanor. His eyes flicked to the dining table, and for a moment, he froze in astonishment.
The emperor’s side of the table was spotless—every drop of broth and every side dish finished.
His Majesty, who usually ate no more than a bite or two of pickled radish for health’s sake...
Liang Jiugong was dumbfounded. The Imperial Noble Consort’s ability to whet the emperor’s appetite was nothing short of miraculous. Overcome with awe, he bowed obsequiously. "Your Highness, mind your step. Allow this servant to assist you—"
After seeing her off, Liang Jiugong returned to tidy the table.
Kangxi’s lips curled in satisfaction before his expression sobered slightly. "Has Lady Majia been behaving?"
At this, Liang Jiugong tensed, anger simmering. He took a deep breath and repeated Consort Rong’s "ravings" in a hushed tone, not daring to meet the emperor’s eyes. "The Imperial Noble Consort, unable to endure the insults, slapped Lady Majia twice."
Silence followed. Liang Jiugong’s heart lurched as he cautiously looked up—only to see Kangxi’s face darken with fury, his cheeks flushed.
"I was prepared to grant her some dignity," the emperor said icily, his voice low and measured. "But if she refuses repentance—fine. She might as well have cursed me to an early death and wished suffering upon my little princess."
"Your Majes—"
"She need not return to the palace. Announce that she fell gravely ill, beyond cure, and bury her at Rehe with the rites of a concubine. Without the title of Consort Rong, she is merely Lady Majia, a lowborn servant. How long she lasts will depend on her fate."
Liang Jiugong hastily assented, then ventured timidly, "And if the Third Prince or Princess Rongxian inquire...?"
Kangxi replied coolly, "If they seek the truth, I won’t stop them."
Liang Jiugong started. There was a world of difference between "seeking the truth" and "pleading for mercy" or "requesting an audience."
"As you command."
Seven days later.
"Victory at Ulan Butong! Victory at Ulan Butong! The Eldest Prince has captured Galdan alive!"
The urgent report of triumph sent tremors through the palace. Under normal circumstances, the servants would have erupted in cheers, faces alight with joy. But now, after a brief, forced celebration, an eerie silence fell—their smiles strained.
His Majesty was stricken with malaria and had summoned the Crown Prince to Rehe. Everyone understood the implications. Even in victory, how could they truly rejoice?
In Cining Palace, the Grand Empress Dowager exclaimed "Excellent!" three times in succession, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears.
A few days prior, news had arrived that "the Crown Prince had obtained divine medicine from missionaries capable of curing malaria." By yesterday's secret report, the Emperor had already taken the medicine, and according to the imperial physicians, he would fully recover within half a month.
"Overjoyed" could hardly describe the Grand Empress Dowager's emotions. She clutched her prayer beads so tightly she nearly fainted again—though this time, it was from sheer happiness.
"Amitabha, Amitabha," the Empress Dowager murmured through tears of joy, her tightly wound nerves finally relaxing as she struggled to find words.
While the two dowagers were still basking in their delight, the next day brought decisive news from the northwestern front: a great victory at Ulan Butong, with the rebel leader captured alive.
The Grand Empress Dowager trembled as she held the victory report, whispering, "Am I dreaming?"
The Empress Dowager, equally shaken, replied, "No, Your Majesty, you are not."
The Grand Empress Dowager exhaled deeply and fell silent for a long moment. At last, she murmured, "Noble Consort Yi—no, the Imperial Noble Consort—truly is a woman of fortune. That day, she told me she had a strong fate. If she went to attend the Emperor, he would surely recover and overcome calamity. She begged me to permit her..."
Her first instinct had been to refuse, but the look in Noble Consort Yi's eyes told her resistance was futile.
Those eyes were filled with determination and plea—but not a trace of fear.
She was willing to share the Emperor's hardship.
"Indeed, Your Majesty. That child holds deep affection for the Emperor," the Empress Dowager said, her nose tingling as she wiped her reddened eyes. "And she carries such fortune that even Baocheng has been blessed by it."
The elderly were particularly swayed by such beliefs, and Yunxiu had already raised three princes—her fortune was undeniable. Thus, when the edict elevating her to Imperial Noble Consort arrived, the Grand Empress Dowager raised no objections.
And now, this unprecedented victory...
After a moment of laughter, the Empress Dowager's excitement settled slightly. She lowered her voice and asked, "Your Majesty, should the news of the Emperor's recovery be announced to the realm?"
"Delay it for now. The Emperor has his reasons for such orders," the Grand Empress Dowager replied, her aged eyes cooling as the earlier joy faded. "I wish to see who grows restless."
With the Emperor stricken by malaria, the imperial harem had been in turmoil. While Consort Rong rushing to Rehe for her son was understandable, Noble Consort Yi—pregnant no less—had recklessly gone to attend the Emperor. Had she lost her mind?
Malaria was contagious.
Only when the edict elevating her to Imperial Noble Consort was proclaimed throughout the palace, sending shockwaves in every direction, did realization dawn.
Noble Consort Yi was no fool. She was shrewd.
To rise as the de facto mistress of the harem by virtue of attending the Emperor—it was a bargain well struck. Even those concubines who bore grudges against Yunxiu found little room for envy.
Imperial Noble Consort? Soon enough, she would be nothing but a dowager consort. And whether she even returned was another matter entirely.
While the harem simmered, the court too was rife with undercurrents. Officials from across the land had returned to the capital for their reports, among them Cao Yin, the Jiangning Textile Commissioner, a man held in the Emperor's highest favor.
Though ostensibly back for reports, none could easily gain audience with the Emperor—let alone now, when His Majesty had fallen gravely ill during his personal campaign. The courtiers understood well: should the Emperor pass, the realm could not be left without a ruler. With the heir already appointed, the Crown Prince would inevitably ascend.
Thus, the Crown Prince became the most coveted figure in the capital.
Yet the coveted prince was no longer in the city. Rumor had it that, by imperial decree, he had departed for Rehe days prior.
Finding no opportunity to approach him, the officials thought little of it. Soon enough, Yuqing Palace buzzed with activity. Countless name cards poured in, with princesses, noblewomen, and ladies-in-waiting—nine out of ten—seeking an audience with the Crown Princess.
Their aim was clear: a place in the Crown Prince's inner circle.
A secondary consort would suffice; failing that, even a concubine would do. All sought to secure a foothold, for in a few days' time, one might ascend to become the favored lady of the six palaces.
Jingchu massaged her temples. "Who is it today?"
Her personal attendant kneaded her shoulders and whispered, "Lady Li, wife of Jiangning Textile Commissioner Cao Yin."
Jingchu paused, her thoughts drifting to that day when the Crown Prince had inadvertently let slip a phrase in her presence.
She murmured, "The treasure basin..."
