Not wanting to owe favors was one thing,
But maintaining good relations with the Empress was still necessary. After all, she was the woman with the most authority in the imperial harem. If one wanted promotions or rewards, the Empress was the key.
The Emperor held even greater power, but the competition for his favor was fierce, and he didn’t particularly fancy Qi Daiyu’s type. She had no intention of pursuing that path.
Sticking to her usual style, she wore a moon-white cross-collared ruqun dress with a thin lined jacket over it.
Her body was slender, making the jacket hang loosely, but it also gave her an ethereal, delicate beauty.
As the saying goes, "To look charming, wear mourning white." Her frail, slightly sickly appearance, accentuated by the pale hue, made her seem even more fragile—utterly pitiable.
How could the Emperor not adore such a beauty? Qi Daiyu’s thoughts wandered.
By the time she finished getting ready, it was only 7:30 in the morning. The Empress, ever considerate, had set the daily morning greetings at 8:00—the same time Qi Daiyu used to start work in her past life, so she adjusted easily.
Morning greetings were like clocking in, and listening to the Empress’s instructions was akin to a morning meeting.
As for today’s celebration for the Eldest Prince’s third-day birth ceremony? That was just a colleague’s family banquet.
"It’s still early, Mistress. Would you like to rest? This servant can double-check the gifts for the Palace of Heavenly Purity," Shiliu suggested.
Because of today’s celebration, the Empress had excused the harem from morning greetings. The banquet was set for noon, and since Qi Daiyu wasn’t particularly close to Concubine Shu, there was no need to arrive early.
"Alright. Go attend to your tasks."
Shiliu bowed and left, closing the door behind her. Ever since her recovery, Qi Daiyu had preferred less personal attendance from her maids. It was understandable—for two years, she had been bedridden, relying on others for even the most basic needs.
Now that she was well, she craved solitude.
Watching Shiliu’s retreating figure, Qi Daiyu pondered the matter of gifts. With no one else in the room, she began doing calisthenics. Strengthening her body was a daily priority.
Gift-giving in the harem was an art.
Currently, while the Empress held the reins of power, Concubine Shu’s influence was not insignificant.
The Emperor and Empress were childhood sweethearts who had supported each other through hardships, and the Emperor had always respected her.
But Concubine Shu was stunningly beautiful and deeply favored. Her father had been instrumental in the Emperor’s rise to power, a key supporter of the new regime. Now that she had given birth to the Eldest Prince, the Palace of Heavenly Purity was destined for even greater glory.
The factions were clear—most concubines aligned with one side or the other. Qi Daiyu was inevitably part of the Empress’s faction.
Whether it was due to the "heroic misunderstanding" from her past or the Empress’s care over the last two years, switching sides was out of the question. Even if others believed her, they’d only see her as ungrateful and disloyal.
Thus, the gifts for the Palace of Heavenly Purity couldn’t be too extravagant—that would slight the Empress. But they also couldn’t be too meager, lest Concubine Shu use her as an excuse to suppress the Empress’s faction.
After rummaging through her storage, she settled on two blue-and-white porcelain "auspicious qilin sending sons" vases and two blue-and-white "everything goes as one wishes" bowls—safe and unremarkable choices.
The original owner’s possessions were sparse. A concubine’s wealth mainly came from: imperial rewards, superiors’ gifts, the Internal Affairs Bureau’s stipends, and contributions from her family outside the palace.
For Qi Daiyu, the first and last sources were nonexistent. As for superiors’ gifts, one needed occasions to receive them—hard to come by when she’d been bedridden for years. Only the Empress had sent annual gifts during festivals and her birthday.
That left the Internal Affairs Bureau’s stipends. Thanks to the Empress’s influence, they hadn’t shortchanged her.
A Jieyu’s allowance was decent—thirty taels of silver monthly. With no social engagements, the original owner had saved most of it. Qi Daiyu had counted it upon arrival: nine hundred taels, secretly stashed in a hidden compartment under her bed.
This was no small sum. She’d wager that Concubine Miao and Noble Lady Qin might not even have as much. They earned more but spent just as freely, leaving little savings.
Being ill and secluded had its perks—now that she was better, the silver was flowing outward in gifts.
Finishing her calisthenics, she was slightly winded.
This body was truly weak. Even after her recovery, the frailty remained. More exercise was clearly needed.
Lounging on the daybed in her study, she eyed a black-and-gold lacquered box on the small table. Inside were two... cotton-stuffed rabbit dolls.
These were her month-long project, intended as a gift for the Eldest Princess during her visit to the Empress’s palace. As part of the Empress’s faction and favored by her, an expensive gift wasn’t necessary—something handmade would better convey sincerity.
But Qi Daiyu was no seamstress. She only knew cross-stitch, a skill far beneath palace standards. Xiangli, a maid in her residence, handled all needlework—embroidering handkerchiefs, sachets, and undergarments.
After seeing Xiangli’s exquisite work, Qi Daiyu abandoned the idea of making a sachet. Handmade gifts showed thought, but if poorly done, they might seem mocking.
Thus, the cotton dolls. She was good at these, and materials were easy to procure—a few taels’ worth of cotton from her stipend and a piece of fine silk. The materials alone showed generosity, but the real appeal was novelty.
The Eldest Princess was born in the Year of the Rabbit. Gold, silver, and jade rabbit trinkets were plentiful, but a soft, perky-eared doll? Unique.
Even Shiliu and the others had been enchanted by its cuteness—how could a young princess resist?
Personally, Qi Daiyu would’ve preferred human-shaped dolls, complete with interchangeable outfits. But fearing cultural taboos around such figurines, she’d stuck to rabbits. Maybe she’d make the human versions for herself later.
After resting, her breathing steadied. She opened the floating screen before her—her cheat ability, essentially an oversized phone.
It had a browser, social media, streaming apps, shopping platforms, and food delivery—all functional without internet, charging, or even touch. A glance sufficed to navigate.
The catch? She could browse and shop but couldn’t comment or interact. Even online purchases couldn’t include notes.
This cheat was why she’d made peace with transmigration. With a phone, power, and delivery, a modern girl could survive anywhere.
Opening a shopping app, she ordered high-end skincare. The palace’s beauty creams weren’t bad—curated for the imperial family, after all—but she worried about lead content and avoided them.
As for the money? It required conversion.
The system’s exchange rate was 1:1000—one tael of silver equaled 1000 RMB.
She wasn’t sure how this rate was determined—perhaps based on this dynasty’s purchasing power?
But if one tael of silver could be exchanged for a thousand dollars, then she would be a wealthy woman indeed!
Luxury skincare products? She’d place an order without batting an eye!
The delivery was scheduled to arrive in three days.
Qi Daiyu wasn’t in a hurry—this wasn’t her first time shopping online. During her first few days here, perhaps due to acclimatization, she vomited everything she ate and suffered from diarrhea. Shiliu and the others wanted to summon the imperial physician, but she stopped them. Instead, she secretly ordered medicine through an app late at night.
It arrived within half an hour.
Suddenly, the screen lit up on its own, and a red "1" appeared on the "Phone Manager" icon. She tapped it and saw a small medicine-shaped icon. It could be retrieved.
The packaging was still in its modern form. Just as she was worrying about where to dispose of it, a prompt popped up: "Can be placed in the recycle bin."
"Phone Manager" was the storage, and "Recycle Bin" was the trash can.
Makes perfect sense.
After liking a few posts criticizing a certain male celebrity, Qi Daiyu switched to her drama-watching interface.
Lately, she had become obsessed with palace intrigue dramas, finding them eerily reflective of her current survival situation. Not only did they pass the time, but they also taught her a trick or two—utterly satisfying.
The only problem was that she was highly empathetic and prone to tears. The slightest emotional stir would send tears welling up uncontrollably.
Now, as she watched a beloved character meet their demise, sorrow overwhelmed her. Tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill.
When Shiliu entered, this was the scene she encountered: the delicate Noble Lady Qi reclined on the daybed, her slender fingers clutching the fabric at her chest. Her wrists were pale and thin, the veins faintly visible from the tension.
How heartbroken must she be?
Looking up, Shiliu saw her mistress staring at a cotton doll inside a box, eyes brimming with tears, overcome with grief.
Shiliu’s heart clenched. Ever since Noble Lady Qi had injured her back while shielding the Empress from harm—an injury the imperial physician warned might affect her fertility—she had often wept in private. Was she now reminded of her own struggles with conception upon seeing a gift meant for the Eldest Princess?
Hastily, Shiliu stepped forward, subtly blocking the box. "My lady, guess what? The banquet hasn’t even started, and there’s already quite the commotion!"
She needed to divert her mistress’s attention.
Qi Daiyu, too, wanted to steady her emotions. Wiping her tears, she took the hot tea Shiliu poured and drank it in one go.
"What happened?" she asked, curiosity piqued.
Shiliu leaned toward the window, checking the courtyard. Only a young maid sweeping the grounds was visible, far enough not to overhear.
Lowering her voice, she said, "Concubine Shu’s family sent a piece of uncarved jade—supposedly top quality—specifically for her to make the first cut. The resulting material would be reserved for the Eldest Prince, to be fashioned into jewelry or ornaments later."
"Concubine Shu was so delighted that she carved it open in front of everyone. And guess what? A miracle! Not only was the jade exquisite, but it also bore an inscription! It read… 'Bright Moon in the Sky, Eternal Fortune and Prosperity'! Yes, those exact eight characters!" Shiliu’s voice grew animated.
"My lady, isn’t this extraordinary? Within half an hour, the whole palace was abuzz. Even the Empress Dowager was reportedly startled and headed straight to Chengqian Palace." Her expression turned naive. "A heavenly omen—could it mean the Eldest Prince is destined for greatness?"
It wasn’t unreasonable to speculate. History was full of celestial signs heralding the rise of legendary figures. The Eldest Prince, already the firstborn, now had this divine endorsement during his third-day celebration. The court officials were bound to stir.
Qi Daiyu mulled it over before asking, "Any reaction from His Majesty?"
Shiliu replied, "Today is the grand court assembly. His Majesty likely hasn’t left court yet."
The monthly grand assembly began at 4 a.m., with no fixed end time. It could conclude by noon or stretch past 1 p.m. The Emperor was diligent, often prolonging it past midday.
So, if this news reached him during the assembly, wouldn’t all the officials have heard?
Qi Daiyu rose. "Let’s head to Kunning Palace first."
Her residence, Yanqing Pavilion, was located in Changchun Palace, part of the Western Six Palaces. To reach Kunning Palace on the central axis, they had to pass Yikun Palace—home to Consort Yang Ning.
While still some distance away, they spotted a procession emerging from Yikun Palace, heading in the same direction: toward Kunning and Chengqian Palaces.
"That’s Consort Yang Ning," Shiliu whispered. "She must be going to Chengqian Palace." With such a spectacle, the entire palace was likely flocking there.
Qi Daiyu recalled that Consort Yang Ning occupied a unique position in the palace. Her father was the Left Chancellor, a figure of immense authority—or at least, he should have been. But the new Emperor’s reforms sought to abolish the Secretariat and establish a Grand Council, drastically reducing the Chancellor’s power. Worse, Chancellor Yang represented the old guard, earning the Emperor’s displeasure.
Court politics were inseparable from the harem, leaving Consort Yang Ning in an awkward position. Initially, as a former Crown Prince consort, she had been granted the rank of Consort—but with the title "Ning," the lowest among the nine consort titles.
The hierarchy was: Noble, Virtuous, Pure, Dignified, Reverent, Benevolent, Obedient, Healthy, and Tranquil (Ning).
"Ning" placed her at the bottom. Any future promotions would leapfrog over her.
Advancing to Imperial Noble Consort was impossible—the Emperor revered the Empress too much to elevate another while she was in good health.
In short, Consort Yang Ning had peaked.
Yet, a consort was still a consort. Proud as she was, she refused to align with either the Empress or Concubine Shu. But lacking the influence to stand alone, she became one of the rare third parties in the palace.
Politely put, she was neutral.
Bluntly, no faction wanted her.
Consort Yang Ning’s entourage moved ahead, oblivious to those behind. Not wanting to invite trouble, Qi Daiyu waited until they were far ahead before continuing toward Kunning Palace.
Kunning Palace was as serene as ever, its eunuchs and maids attending to their duties undisturbed by the outside storm.
At the main hall’s entrance stood Zhuyi, the Empress’s attendant. Spotting Qi Daiyu, she blinked in surprise before hurrying over.
"Noble Lady Qi, greetings. Please wait in the side hall while I inform Her Majesty." Zhuyi gestured for a maid to escort her.
Qi Daiyu shook her head. "I’ve been sitting all morning and would rather not. May I admire the flowers in the courtyard instead?"
Kunning Palace’s courtyard was filled with freshly bloomed chrysanthemums—so many varieties that Qi Daiyu hadn’t seen half of them.
The Empress had always treated Noble Lady Qi differently. Smiling, Zhuyi agreed and retreated into the main hall.
