In the vast Qing dynasty, imperial princes were undoubtedly noble, yet the phrase "too noble to be spoken of" was not something just anyone could invoke.
Consort De had climbed from a palace maid to one of the Four Consorts, relying not only on her delicate beauty and fruitful womb but, most of all, on her meticulous caution.
Yinzuo was the treasure of her heart—she would shield and protect him at all costs, never boasting of his cleverness or "nobility beyond words" to those around her.
Lady Liu was Yinzuo’s wet nurse, but she was not Consort De’s confidante!
The Imperial Noble Consort understood well that even if Consort De harbored soaring ambitions, she would bury them deep within, letting them rot in silence rather than reveal them to others.
But when one seeks to frame another, excuses are never hard to find.
"Blame it on the Emperor for giving the Sixth Prince such an eye-catching name," the Imperial Noble Consort murmured, her voice cool and detached, all traces of lingering affection for Kangxi now gone from her eyes.
She chuckled softly, whispering to herself, "Blame it on him for having Mrs. Wuya as his mother."
It was said that harming a child would invite divine retribution, but Mrs. Tongjia feared nothing!
Had Consort De or Suo Etu shown her the slightest mercy when she was on the verge of childbirth?
She couldn’t let her little princess depart this world alone—she would drag others down with her.
"My dear child, shall I send your Sixth Brother to keep you company?" The Imperial Noble Consort ignored the dull ache in her abdomen, gently stroking her belly. "And the Hesheli Family, Yuqing Palace... none shall escape."
Suo Etu had schemed against her with all his might—for what? To clear the path for the Crown Prince!
He sought to eliminate every threat to the Crown Prince’s position, ensuring his smooth ascension to the throne, so that he could become a second Dorgon, a second Ao Bai, wielding power over the court and dominating the realm.
But those who hunt wild geese too often may one day be pecked in the eye. Suo Etu was nothing but a clown, and his downfall would come.
"Tell me, if something were to happen to the Sixth Prince, what would the Emperor think? What would the Grand Empress Dowager think?" The Imperial Noble Consort’s smile deepened.
Once the accusations were hurled, even if the Crown Prince knew nothing, it would be too late.
When the Sixth Prince turned one month old, the Emperor bestowed upon him the name "Zuo," openly displaying his favor and stirring unrest in both the court and the inner palace.
Suo Etu was stunned by the name, and for a fleeting moment, dark thoughts crossed his mind—but like rain leaving no trace, they quickly vanished.
How could Consort De, a mere bondservant, compare to the Hesheli Family? Unless the Emperor had lost his mind!
...Even if the Emperor had lost his mind, the court officials would never accept it.
He was worrying over nothing.
Still, a mere imperial concubine’s son overshadowing the Crown Prince’s name "Reng" was baffling. Suo Etu pondered for a long time, unwilling to believe this was the Emperor’s true intention.
It made no sense.
Wasn’t this throwing the Sixth Prince into the fire?
Then, in a flash of insight, he remembered someone—
The Fourth Prince, the most beloved son of the Former Emperor, born to Empress Xiaoxian, Lady Dong'e. Before he even turned one, he had been enfeoffed as Prince Rong, his name also bearing the character "Zuo."
Prince Rong had truly been the apple of the Former Emperor’s eye!
Overjoyed, the Former Emperor had called him "Our First Son," intending to name him heir once he reached his first birthday. Even the Empress Dowager, who despised Lady Dong'e, had shown kindness to the child.
Of course—he was just a baby, her own grandson. The Grand Empress Dowager would never take her grievances out on him. But Prince Rong was short-lived, succumbing to a sudden fever before his first birthday. According to Suoni, the illness struck swiftly, claiming the little prince’s life in no time.
Empress Xiaoxian fell gravely ill from grief and soon passed away, leaving the Former Emperor despondent, even indifferent to the throne itself.
What followed was a scar on the Grand Empress Dowager’s heart, a subject the courtiers dared not mention.
Suo Etu halted his reminiscence, eyes gleaming with calculation.
Prince Rong had left no heir. The Former Emperor had intended to select a successor but passed before issuing the decree. Thus, Suo Etu surmised that the Former Emperor must have left an edict ordering the new emperor to adopt a member of the Aisin-Gioro clan to continue Prince Rong’s lineage.
The current Emperor had ascended the throne as a child, yet for years, nothing had come of this. But now, the Sixth Prince bore the same "Zuo" as Prince Rong...
The implication was clear. Suo Eto relaxed, his hostility toward Yinzuo dissipating.
Yet, speculation remained speculation.
Four years had passed. The Emperor had quelled the Revolt of the Three Feudatories and reclaimed the Zheng family’s stronghold. Consort Yi had given birth to the Ninth Prince, and Consort De was nearing her own delivery. Yet, there was no sign the Emperor intended to adopt Yinzuo.
—And likely never would.
Then came the whispers spreading in private, claiming the Ninth Prince’s naming ceremony paled in comparison to the Sixth Prince’s, that even the Emperor’s chosen name fell short!
How could Suo Etu remain idle?
Then, as if heaven itself favored him, an opportunity arose—Yinzuo’s wet nurse, Lady Liu, fell into his hands. After interrogating her, Suo Etu grew even more convinced: Yinzuo would be a formidable rival to the Crown Prince.
Consort De’s ambitions were a thorn in his side, and he had no intention of letting them fester.
Ridiculous. How could the son of a bondservant ever be "too noble to be spoken of"?
The glory that had endured through dynasties belonged solely to the Hesheli Family.
...
Straightening his sleeves and steadying his mind, Suo Etu lifted his gaze to the resplendent characters before him: Yuqing Palace.
As the Crown Prince’s grand-uncle and a dominant figure in court politics, Suo Etu was far too busy to serve as a tutor in the imperial study.
For the sake of his family, he had petitioned Kangxi for a nominal position as a lecturer at Yuqing Palace. Every ten days, he could meet with the Crown Prince, strengthening their bond while subtly shaping the prince’s understanding of court affairs with his own views...
Such convenience suited him perfectly.
The Crown Prince was only ten, still too young to build his own faction. As his elder, it was Suo Etu’s duty to guide and support him. When the prince ascended the throne, who could surpass him in merit or favor?
Dismissing his wandering thoughts, Suo Etu stroked his beard with a smile and strode through the palace gates.
...
"There’s no need to inform Grand-Uncle about my frequent visits to Yonghe Palace," the Crown Prince said abruptly, toying with a cat-shaped brush rest on his desk. He cast a glance at the attendants around him. "Anyone who disobeys will answer to me!"
Aside from his personal eunuch, He Zhuer, the others in the study—the tea-serving attendants and the rest—were not truly his confidants.
More accurately, they were the Hesheli Family’s men, Suo Etu’s men.
Kangxi doted on the Crown Prince, entrusting him with the selection of his own servants. Once Liang Jiugong had vetted their backgrounds and deemed them clean, the Emperor interfered no further.
Having lost his mother at a young age, the Crown Prince held deep affection for the Hesheli Family. And with Suo Etu’s doting care, the prince, still naive, had grown quite attached to his grand-uncle.
The Crown Prince gradually grew older, vaguely developing an awareness of rulership. Knowing that his granduncle had his best interests at heart, he kept the palace attendants trusted by Suo Etu by his side without the slightest hesitation.
In the past, he had never seen anything wrong with this.
But after his visit to the Yikun Palace, the thick fog of confusion was dispelled by Yunxiu’s few words, and the young Crown Prince felt a deep sense of clarity, as if he had matured significantly in an instant.
Immediately afterward, he realized with absolute certainty that not a single word of his conversation with Consort Yi could be revealed—not even to his granduncle!
The Crown Prince swept a glance over the attendants, suppressing the sudden discomfort and inexplicable displeasure rising in his heart. He tapped the desk lightly and asked coolly, "Do you understand?"
At this moment, his expression bore an uncanny resemblance to Kangxi’s, completely shedding any trace of childishness and instead exuding an air of decisive authority that brooked no dissent.
He Zhuer bowed deeply, respectfully affirming his obedience, while the other servants shuddered, cold sweat trickling uncontrollably down their spines.
The Crown Prince was still so young!
Yet his commanding presence and imposing dignity left no room for defiance.
In the blink of an eye, they all prostrated themselves, kowtowing heavily and pledging, "This servant obeys His Highness the Crown Prince’s orders!"
Qianqing Palace.
"You’re saying the trail goes cold if we investigate further?" Kangxi tossed aside his brush and shot Liang Jiugong a glance, reprimanding him mildly, "Useless fool."
Liang Jiugong trembled, reflexively dropping to his knees, his expression one of silent despair.
The five strokes he had received last time still ached—please, Your Majesty, don’t punish this servant again!
Perhaps hearing the chief eunuch’s silent plea, Kangxi rubbed his temples and said in a low voice, "Explain the situation in full."
"Yes, Your Majesty. This servant is incompetent and has only uncovered the arrangements within the Imperial Household Department..." Here, Liang Jiugong paused, lowering his head and murmuring, "It seems there was no misunderstanding regarding Consort Ping. However, concerning the incident at Yonghe Palace—the drowning case—there is not a single trace of evidence! The servants subjected to the rigorous interrogations of the Punishment Bureau confessed everything—some spoke the truth, while others made wild accusations, even implicating Consort Yi..."
At this, Kangxi’s anger flared, and he spun his jade thumb ring rapidly. "Go on."
"...None of them implicated Yonghe Palace." Having said this, Liang Jiugong held his breath, inwardly groaning in distress.
Without evidence, how could Consort De be convicted?
Liang Jiugong had gained a new understanding of Consort De. If she were entirely innocent, then nothing would come of this. But if she had orchestrated the act, then she was ruthlessly cunning, hiding her schemes with terrifying skill.
To leave no trace at all—truly masterful.
As Liang Jiugong lost himself in thought, Kangxi let out a cold laugh and murmured, "Hesheli..." before ordering, "Since the trail has gone cold, cease the investigation. Instead, gather manpower and conduct a thorough sweep of the inner palace—including the embroidery workshop, the imperial kitchens, and the craftsmen’s bureau... Leave no stone unturned. I want every detail scrutinized!"
Liang Jiugong was stunned. The embroidery workshop and craftsmen’s bureau were one thing, but the imperial kitchens?
The Wuya family’s influence was rooted in the kitchens—this was...
"Do not alert the enemy," Kangxi picked up his brush again, cautioning gravely in a hushed tone. "I promised Consort Yi an answer. All the filth and corruption—expose it all. Now go."
Newborn babies changed day by day.
By the time Yintang shed his wrinkled, reddish skin and grew plump and fair, autumn had arrived in the capital, the sweltering midsummer heat long gone.
On the twentieth day of the ninth month, just as Yunxiu was about to complete her postpartum confinement, Consort De went into labor at Yonghe Palace.
At the time, Consort De had been dining with Yinzuo, their meal interspersed with childish chatter, the mother and son sharing an intimate, harmonious moment.
Then, in an instant, Consort De’s expression twisted. She clutched her belly, sweat beading on her forehead as she cried out, "Someone—fetch the imperial physician and the midwife! Send word to Qianqing Palace—inform His Majesty!"
Yinzuo had never seen his mother so distraught.
This was his first time witnessing the birth of a younger sibling, and his heart swelled with endless anxiety and worry.
How much pain must his mother be in?
The four- or five-year-old child kept calling for her, pacing in agitation, his eyes brimming with tears.
Consort De felt wave after wave of unbearable agony, the pain only intensifying rather than coming in intermittent surges. Her heart sank.
Having given birth three times before, she was familiar with the signs of labor. This kind of pain—it seemed she was facing a difficult delivery...
Yet her greatest concern was still Yinzuo. Gritting her teeth, she mustered what strength she had left to soothe him gently, "Yinzuo, don’t be afraid... Mother will go to the birthing chamber now. Soon, you’ll have a little brother... Go play outside for a while, all right? The garden—go to the garden."
Then, gripping her wrist tightly, she snapped sharply, "Take the Sixth Prince out at once!"
In this moment, Consort De was far from her usual gentle self. The sharpness in her almond-shaped eyes was icy as she swept her gaze over the servants.
The attendants hastily complied, half-coaxing, half-pushing the quietly sobbing Yinzuo out of the room. "Your Highness, please don’t worry. Let this servant take you to the garden, hmm?"
"Go away!" Yinzuo wept intermittently. "I want Mother, I want Mother..."
Despite his tears, he had taken Consort De’s words to heart. Wiping his face, he dashed past the servants toward the rear courtyard of Yonghe Palace. "Don’t any of you follow me!"
Since the garden was in the rear courtyard, the servants exhaled in relief. After a brief hesitation, they decided not to disobey the prince’s command.
Meanwhile, Yinzuo wandered the garden in distress, his eyes red from crying.
Through his tear-blurred vision, he suddenly caught sight of a familiar swath of fabric—a russet-patterned hem—peeking from the small gate leading to the palace corridor.
Curiosity gradually replaced his panic. Tiptoeing closer, his attention was wholly captured.
From beyond the gate came a gentle, delighted call, "Sixth Prince? Sixth Prince..."
Yinzuo’s lips parted, then curled into a visible smile.
As if he had found someone he could rely on, he pouted and sprinted forward, crying out joyfully, "Lady Liu!"
