The Crown Prince’s eyes were red-rimmed as he stumbled out of the imperial study, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Today, his imperial father, Kangxi, was unlike the man he had seen yesterday. There was no trace of wariness or disappointment in the emperor’s gaze—only tenderness, paternal affection, and above all, frustration at his son’s failings.
The brief mention of the jade balm was but a fleeting moment. To the Crown Prince’s surprise, Kangxi had patiently listened to his incoherent confession of guilt, remaining silent for a long while before closing his eyes in contemplation.
After what felt like an eternity, Kangxi finally spoke, his voice heavy. “Baocheng, have I not also committed grave mistakes?”
At the mention of the jade balm, Kangxi fixed his gaze on the Crown Prince, a sharp pain suddenly piercing his mind. Fragmented memories surged—scenes from this timeline’s past.
Yinreng had always been tied to Suo Etu. The court was mired in endless factional strife, and the rift between father and son had widened until it became an irreparable chasm of suspicion. By the 47th year of Kangxi’s reign, during an inspection tour beyond the Great Wall, the Crown Prince had committed unforgivable crimes: mobilizing troops and spying on the imperial tent. Worse still, he had shown no grief at the death of the eighteenth prince, which ultimately sealed his fate as the emperor resolved to depose him.
Kangxi shut his eyes, his hands trembling slightly as a storm of emotions raged within him. A voice in his heart insisted that everything in this timeline was real.
Here, the Crown Prince had been at odds with Yinti since childhood, their rivalry as fierce as fighting cocks. Nor had Kangxi sought quinine from the missionaries, rushing across thousands of miles to tend to his son’s illness.
But in another timeline—had it not been for Xiuxiu, had Yinreng’s temperament not gradually softened under her influence—father and son might well have reached this same point of no return.
The thought left Kangxi rigid with dread. He could no longer sit still.
If Heaven had placed him in this body, how could he stand by and watch his sons tear each other apart in a bloody succession struggle?
Yet time was pressing. He could delay no longer.
He yearned desperately to return—to see his Imperial Noble Consort again. Wu Linzhu was just learning to speak; how could she be without her father?
Whether his body had been taken over by a wandering spirit or he had simply lost consciousness, neither outcome was acceptable to Kangxi.
And then there was Xiuxiu of this timeline…
Seizing a blank imperial edict, he swiftly penned his orders, a sliver of hope flickering in his heart. “Prepare the carriage for Yuqing Palace,” he rasped.
Meanwhile, in Yuqing Palace, chaos reigned early that morning.
At the sound of the words, “Consort Yi, how dare you!”, Ruizhu, who had been attending inside, froze in shock. Before she could react, the Imperial Noble Consort’s panicked voice rang out: “Someone, call for the imperial physicians! His Majesty is suffering from a nightmare—a delusion that clouds his judgment!”
Yunxiu hurriedly rose from the bed, tears streaming down her face as she seemed utterly distraught.
Liang Jiugong paled and immediately obeyed.
The Imperial Noble Consort was the emperor’s most cherished treasure. At times, her words carried more weight than an imperial decree. Over the years, Kangxi had spared no effort to please her, never once raising his voice in anger. Just yesterday, he had summoned the Imperial Astronomers to divine an auspicious date for her enthronement as empress. Yet now, he addressed her coldly as “Consort Yi”? It could only mean his mind was afflicted.
Hearing the word “delusion,” Kangxi’s unspoken words lodged in his throat.
His lips twitched, the joy of rebirth replaced by towering fury. “What nonsense! You have some nerve!”
“Your Majesty!” Yunxiu cut him off, masking the ice in her eyes with even more pitiful sobs. “How can I go on living if you’ve become like this?”
She turned to Liang Jiugong. “His Majesty is unwell—he doesn’t even recognize me. Send for the Crown Prince at once. Do not delay!”
Amid the flurry of footsteps and heart-wrenching cries, Kangxi found himself unable to utter a single coherent sentence.
Watching as the palace servants, including his longtime attendant Liang Jiugong, obeyed Yunxiu without question, he felt his temples throb. A bitter laugh escaped him—this was beyond absurd.
Since when had Consort Yi won over even Liang Jiugong?
“This is treason,” he growled, swinging his legs off the bed. Just as he was about to summon the “dog of a servant,” the words “Yuqing Palace” and “Crown Prince” struck him like a thunderbolt. He stood frozen, lips trembling in silence.
Of course. This was the 32nd year of his reign. Baocheng was still safe, their bond not yet severed.
Forgetting Consort Yi’s insolence in an instant, he thought, Good. I long to see him.
To Liang Jiugong, the emperor’s erratic behavior—alternating between rage and dazed silence—only confirmed Yunxiu’s diagnosis. The eunuch scurried about like an ant on hot coals, frantic with worry.
Fortunately, it was not a day for grand court assemblies. He beckoned a young eunuch and whispered, “Go to the Gate of Heavenly Purity and inform the ministers that His Majesty is indisposed. Hurry!”
Before long, Grand Imperial Physician Chen arrived in haste, followed closely by the Crown Prince, Yinreng, his handsome face etched with concern. “Imperial Father, Imperial Mother Yi.”
As they entered, Yunxiu dismissed the attendants. Kangxi finally laid eyes on the child he missed most, staring at him with a mix of profound joy and sorrow.
But to the Crown Prince, his father’s demeanor was unsettling. Swallowing his unease, he stepped forward, guiding Kangxi back to the bed. “Grand Imperial Physician Chen, examine His Majesty at once.”
“Unnecessary. Leave us,” Kangxi said coolly, his sharp gaze pinning the physician in place. “I know whether I am delusional or not. Go.”
Grand Imperial Physician Chen’s hands shook, his white beard quivering as he hesitated. “Imperial Noble Consort, this…”
Yunxiu wiped her tears and murmured, “Withdraw for now. I will summon you later.”
In a blink, only three remained in the chamber.
“Consort Yi, your audacity knows no bounds,” Kangxi said, narrowing his eyes. The physician had addressed her as Imperial Noble Consort, and the Crown Prince called her Imperial Mother Yi. When had her influence grown so vast that she could twist truth without challenge?
“For the sake of Yinqi and Yintang, I will spare you—”
Before he could finish, the Crown Prince gasped. “Imperial Father, I’ll fetch Grand Imperial Physician Chen immediately.”
If this wasn’t delusion, what was?
Yunxiu gave Yinreng a subtle shake of her head, her tears vanishing as she spoke with deliberate calm. “My audacity has always been considerable.”
Her voice turned icy. “But you—a mere wandering spirit who’s stolen His Majesty’s body—how dare you act so brazenly? Yinreng, your imperial father is gone. This is not him. Would I not know?”
The Crown Prince’s breath hitched, his phoenix eyes widening in shock. Yunxiu sneered and pressed on. “No matter how this ghost tries to mimic him, it lacks even a fraction of His Majesty’s authority. He’s forgotten me—doubtless, he doesn’t remember Wu Linzhu either.”
Yinreng’s mind reeled. A layer of frost formed in his eyes.
No wonder something had felt off about his father today.
Kangxi’s initial shock gave way to fury. “Mrs. Guoluoluo!”
The Crown Prince, raised on Confucian teachings that dismissed the supernatural, would never believe a seldom-seen concubine over his own father!
Yet he and the original soul were one and the same. What "wandering ghost," what "audacity"—no one had ever dared to insult him like this before.
"Imperial Father." The Crown Prince clenched his fists at his sides, interrupting Kangxi's words. He lowered his gaze and asked softly, "Does Imperial Father still remember the name you gave the imperial eldest grandson?"
Kangxi's expression darkened—this was disbelief directed at him.
"What, do you not even recognize your own eldest son? I personally bestowed upon him the name Hongxi!"
Hearing this, Yunxiu's smile deepened, though it sent a chill down one's spine. The Crown Prince's heart sank, his face turning grave.
He said sharply, "Consort Yi, what must we do now?"
"Have the Imperial Hospital prepare a sedative that won't harm the body, and force it down," Yunxiu replied calmly. "Once every three days. If the wandering ghost still refuses to leave, then continue forcing it. I will wait for the real Emperor to awaken."
Turning to the Crown Prince, she added gently, "I will handle the rear palace. As for the court... that will be your burden to bear."
A furious roar of "Ungrateful son!" echoed in his ears, but the Crown Prince paid it no heed.
He clasped his hands solemnly. "I will follow Consort Yi's orders. Guards—!"
The Emperor had fallen into madness yet refused to take medicine, struggling to keep his mouth shut. Liang Jiugong was at his wit's end. The Emperor was his master—how could he forcibly administer the draught? Seeing Yunxiu lost in thought as she gazed at the embroidered canopy, he nearly wept. "Imperial Noble Consort..."
"Summon seven or eight sturdy maids," Yunxiu said, snapping out of her reverie with a sigh. "If His Majesty regains his senses, he will not blame me."
After all, this was the Yuqing Palace—her domain.
The sedative was finally forced down, and three days had passed since then. Yunxiu sat by the bedside, her gaze icy.
Then she gently caressed the face of the man lying there, her expression softening into tenderness. Her tone carried a hint of reproach. "The features are exactly the same, yet the sight of that wandering ghost turns my stomach."
The "wandering ghost," floating in midair, twisted in rage at her words. "Mrs. Guoluoluo, how dare you?!"
No one answered in the void. The endless solitude could drive a man to madness. Time stretched unbearably—though only three days had passed, the long-reigning sovereign gradually lost his imperial dignity, glaring at that breathtakingly beautiful face with gnashing teeth.
Yet witnessing Consort Yi's deep affection for "him," the ghost couldn't help but feel a pang of bitterness.
A voice called out repeatedly. Kangxi felt as though his eyelids weighed a thousand pounds.
With great effort, he slowly opened his eyes to meet the peach-blossom gaze he had longed for. Overjoyed, he rasped, "Xiuxiu, I had a dream."
Yunxiu tucked the blanket around him, not contradicting his belief that it had all been a dream. She smiled faintly. "I'm listening."
"In the dream, I went to the Yuqing Palace. She resembled you, yet she wasn't you." Recalling that day, Kangxi took a labored breath, his phoenix eyes blazing. "I knew I couldn't delay any longer. I swiftly dealt with Mrs. Tongjia and Mrs. Hesheli, cutting off Yinti and the others' ambitions. I entrusted the Crown Prince with overseeing the court."
In the dream, he had done his utmost to correct Yinreng's temperament, yet still felt uneasy. Later, he thought—so be it. Children and grandchildren would forge their own paths. There was only so much he could control.
Xiuxiu was still waiting for him.
The words "She resembled you, yet she wasn't you" brought tears to Yunxiu's eyes. She remained silent for a long moment.
"I am one of a kind," she said softly, her gaze tender. "And so are you, Your Majesty."
