Grand Imperial Physician Chen was taken aback, never expecting His Majesty to ask him such a question.
Summoned in such urgent haste, only to be asked about… lovesickness?
Those who rose to the rank of Grand Imperial Physician were, without doubt, exceptionally skilled. Take the current Grand Imperial Physician Chen, for instance—born into a prestigious medical family, he had traveled far and wide in his youth, amassing vast knowledge. His diagnostic skills were unparalleled; there was no pulse he couldn’t decipher.
The imperial physicians naturally deferred to him, and only the Emperor, the Empress Dowager, the Grand Empress Dowager, or certain favored high-ranking consorts could request his services. Grand Imperial Physician Chen’s daily routine involved a brief appearance at the Imperial Hospital to oversee matters, exempt from night shifts, leading a rather leisurely life. Yet no one dared question this privilege.
Who could argue with his unparalleled medical expertise?
Now, this very same Grand Imperial Physician Chen found himself being asked by Kangxi about remedies for lovesickness. He stood frozen for several breaths, hands clasped in salute, his expression growing increasingly solemn.
Lovesickness was a malady of the heart, far beyond his usual expertise. What cure could he possibly offer?
To untie the bell, one must seek the one who tied it—summoning him here was of little use, Your Majesty.
But the most alarming thought, the one that sent a chill down Grand Imperial Physician Chen’s spine, was this: Who, exactly, was suffering from lovesickness?
If it were the Emperor himself…
He shuddered deeply, not daring to dwell on the possibility, and instead launched into the most convoluted medical discourse of his life, quoting extensively from classical texts: "Lovesickness is, in truth, a rather elusive condition. Medical texts lack definitive records… This humble physician believes it to be merely a heart ailment born of longing…"
At this, Kangxi’s phoenix eyes brightened slightly. He let out a thoughtful hum and nodded in agreement.
While the listener seemed engrossed, Grand Imperial Physician Chen found himself at a loss for words.
Steeling himself, he proceeded to recite a lengthy passage cobbled together from various medical treatises on ailments of the heart—so dense with jargon it rivaled the most abstruse classical texts, leaving his audience dizzy and disoriented.
Bombarded with this flood of medical theory, Kangxi couldn’t admit he hadn’t understood a word. His expression darkened slightly.
Clearing his throat, the Emperor cut straight to the point: "If one suffers from lovesickness, might they exhibit symptoms such as restlessness, insomnia, uncharacteristic behavior, and an overwhelming urge to see the object of their longing?"
"Your Majesty… such symptoms are indeed possible," Grand Imperial Physician Chen hedged, drawing on decades of medical experience to offer a carefully vague reply. "Distraction, loss of appetite, sleeplessness—these are all common manifestations…"
Every symptom matched.
A faint smile tugged at Kangxi’s lips before he sighed again. "Is there a cure?"
"The heart’s ailment requires the heart’s remedy. Frequent encounters with the one who is missed would likely bring considerable relief." The elderly physician bowed his head, suppressing a wince as he added, "Should the condition worsen, a tonic to calm the nerves and fortify the constitution may be administered… But these are merely the humble opinions of an old physician, not authoritative in the least. Your Majesty must use your discretion."
Frequent encounters would bring relief?
These words struck a chord deep within the Emperor’s heart!
Kangxi’s stern demeanor softened as he absently turned the jade ring on his thumb, a hint of amusement in his eyes. Hands clasped behind his back, he said slowly, "The Grand Physician speaks wisely. We have learned much today. Liang Jiugong, prepare a reward—"
"This humble servant dare not accept!"
On the side, Liang Jiugong hastily assented. Moments later, a handful of golden melon seeds found their way into Grand Imperial Physician Chen’s palm.
To have wrung his brain for a few strained phrases, only to earn the Emperor’s rare praise—"We have learned much"—and even receive a reward, was an unprecedented honor.
Grand Imperial Physician Chen’s emotions were a tangled mess, yet he couldn’t suppress his burning curiosity. Could it be that the Emperor himself was lovesick?
This… was utterly inconceivable!
But royal secrets were not to be pried into, not unless he valued his head. Bowing in gratitude, he grabbed his medical kit and hurried back to the Imperial Hospital.
As he stepped out of the hall, Grand Imperial Physician Chen faintly overheard Chief Eunuch Liang’s hushed report: "Noble Consort Yi has awakened and requests Your Majesty’s presence."
Then came the unmistakably gentle voice of the Emperor, laced with fond exasperation: "We knew it. Tell your mistress to rest easy—We are here. Once struck by lovesickness, one cannot bear to be apart for even a moment…"
Straining to catch the words, Grand Imperial Physician Chen nearly tripped over his own feet.
Steadying himself just in time, his shaky steps transformed into a brisk stride. His first thought was that Noble Consort Yi’s favor knew no bounds. His second thought…
They said the Emperor grew ever more imposing with time, and rightly so—facing him had left the physician scarcely daring to breathe. Yet the way Kangxi and Noble Consort Yi behaved toward each other was a hundred times more cloying than he and his own old wife!
"Lovesickness, lovesickness," Grand Imperial Physician Chen muttered under his breath, only to be overheard by his colleagues at the Imperial Hospital.
None suspected the truth, for it was well known that the Grand Physician had a penchant for studying medical texts and obscure literature. Assuming he’d read about it somewhere, they merely chuckled. "The Grand Physician takes an interest in lovesickness? These days, few seek treatment for it—most dismiss it as mere superstition."
"Hah! Superstition indeed!" others chimed in.
"……" Grand Imperial Physician Chen nodded stiffly.
A close colleague then asked, "What did His Majesty summon you for?"
In an instant, the courtyard filled with envious and admiring gazes. After a long pause, Grand Imperial Physician Chen rubbed his aching jaw and abruptly changed the subject.
With a heavy sigh, he said, "From now on, if any consort or young master falls ill and His Majesty threatens punishment in his anger, just praise the bond between the Emperor and Noble Consort Yi."
Baffled, the physicians could only watch as their superior shook his head mournfully and wandered off, weighed down by unspoken thoughts.
Yuqing Palace.
Once again, the Emperor had monopolized Noble Consort Yi, departing early for Yikun Palace without even leaving the Crown Prince a share of the noon meal.
Seated behind his desk, the Crown Prince propped his chin on his hand and gazed wistfully out the window before calling out, "Someone! Have the kitchen prepare a plate of chestnut cakes. This prince has a craving."
He Zhuer scurried off and soon returned with a steaming plate of fragrant, golden-brown cakes.
The Crown Prince dabbed his hands delicately with a handkerchief, his eyes alight with anticipation. But before he could take more than a few bites, an attendant announced that Zhang Youde, Chief Eunuch of Yikun Palace, had come to see His Highness once more.
Could it be that Noble Consort Yi had sent another master chef?
Alas, there was no chef—only a delivery of spring garments. Arrayed on a tray were several seasonal robes in assorted patterns, each collar embroidered with exquisite apricot-hued dragon motifs, ensuring no mistake as to their intended wearer.
"Her Ladyship personally oversaw the selection of fabrics and designs, and had the seamstresses work day and night to complete these for Your Highness," Zhang Youde said with a smile. "She bade me convey her apologies—she is unskilled in needlework and could not make them herself."
As Zhang Youde spoke, the Crown Prince listened intently, his heart swelling with emotion, his eyes glistening faintly.
No one had ever given him clothes before… No, no mother had ever given him clothes.
The Emperor doted on him, yet never paid attention to such details. At most, he would bestow a few precious bolts of fabric. The Crown Prince’s daily attire had always been ready-made garments supplied by the Imperial Household Department, exquisitely crafted and no less refined than the pieces Zhang Youde presented.
"Please convey my gratitude to Noble Consort Yi on my behalf," the Crown Prince murmured, carefully reaching out to touch the moon-white robe laid before him. A faint smile curved his lips, and in that instant, the clothes he wore now seemed dull in comparison. "I like it very much."
Tomorrow—no, he would change into it right after his bath!
......
Compared to her previous discreet gestures, Yunxiu’s act of sending Zhang Youde to deliver clothes was neither overtly conspicuous nor entirely unnoticed. Anyone who cared to investigate would surely catch wind of it.
Among those who took notice, none were more alert than Consort Hui of Yanxi Palace, followed closely by Consort Ping of Chuxiu Palace.
The Grand Empress Dowager had privately hoped Yunxiu would look after the Crown Prince, but this matter had been kept secret and never publicized. The two women, however, had their own motives—one schemed for the sake of the Eldest Prince, fearing Mrs. Guoluoluo might align herself with the Crown Prince; the other, though lacking favor or influence, still clung to her self-proclaimed role as the Crown Prince’s aunt, watching Yuqing Palace closely in hopes of winning his affection one day and escaping her current plight.
A few days prior, when Yunxiu was elevated to Noble Consort Yi, Consort Hui had barely recovered from the blow before learning of Zhang Youde’s deliveries—first a chef, then clothing. She shut her eyes briefly and muttered under her breath, "How dare she?"
Even as a Noble Consort, Mrs. Guoluoluo was still merely a secondary consort. Yet she had the audacity to openly ingratiate herself to this extent, meddling in the Crown Prince’s meals and attire without the slightest discretion!
Consort Hui waited patiently for several days, but neither the Qianqing Palace nor Cining Palace showed any reaction. It seemed the Emperor and the Grand Empress Dowager remained unaware, still kept in the dark.
Of course, if the people of Yikun Palace and Yuqing Palace were careful in their concealment, it would take time for the Emperor to grow suspicious and trace it back to Noble Consort Yi.
A new robe was hardly cause for suspicion—who would doubt their favored consort without reason?
Her frustration lodged in her throat, neither rising nor settling. After a long deliberation, she finally spoke with a darkened expression, "Leak the news to that fool Consort Ping. Also, take my token and leave the palace. You haven’t used your biannual privilege yet, have you? I want you to visit Nara Mansion under the guise of a family visit..."
She wasn’t the only one who would act—Mingzhu wouldn’t remain idle either.
Some people grew too arrogant. If no one taught them a lesson, who could curb their insolence?
What if no one in the harem could rival her? Such reckless abuse of favor would only lead to her downfall. Consort Hui smirked coldly. Did she truly believe no one could touch her?
When Consort Ping sent another message, Suo Etu finally sensed something amiss.
Adding flowers to brocade was nothing special; it was offering charcoal in snowy weather that revealed one’s true intentions. Thanks to Yunxiu’s repeated "assistance," the retired Minister Suo held considerable goodwill toward Yikun Palace.
Though his arrogance had grown over time, he dared not underestimate the Guoluoluo clan. Now that Noble Consort Yi had surpassed Consort Hui in rank, the benefits she could bring to the Hesheli family were too vast to contemplate.
Lately, Noble Consort Yi had found it inconvenient to communicate directly with the Hesheli family, so she entrusted the task to Consort Ping in the palace. To Suo Etu’s relief, his niece had finally shown some sense—she complied without hesitation when her personal maid relayed the message, proving she wasn’t entirely hopeless.
Yet the messages from Noble Consort Yi were increasingly perfunctory, devoid of useful information, casting doubt on her sincerity.
Suo Etu even suspected Consort Ping of fabricating them, but quickly dismissed the thought. After all, she was family—why would she sabotage her own interests?
But now, what kind of nonsense was she sending?
What did she mean by Noble Consort Yi deceiving him? That the Crown Prince was on the verge of becoming the Guoluoluo clan’s Crown Prince?
Suo Etu’s expression darkened instantly. His first thought was that it was absurd—but another voice in his heart whispered, what if it were true?
Noble Consort Yi was no Hesheli.
For the first time, Suo Etu found himself hesitating about Yikun Palace’s intentions. A faint unease settled in his chest, but before he could decide, an old subordinate—one who had endured Mingzhu’s relentless pressure yet clung to his post—paid him a visit and delivered troubling news:
The censors of the Court of Judicial Review had impeached Noble Consort Yi that very morning, accusing her of overstepping her bounds by interfering in the Crown Prince’s daily life. What ulterior motives did she harbor?!
