Kangxi, Year Thirty-Four, Summer.
The layers of flowing clouds rolled and scattered, and another sudden downpour washed Changchun Garden, making it look even more fresh and graceful, like the landscapes of Jiangnan.
Inside Shouxuan Chun Yong Hall, Cui Wei, who had now been promoted to acting decree-officer, wore a spring-green flag dress of silk, leading a neat line of young palace maids with red lacquer trays, entering the hall to serve tea and pastries to the ladies of various palaces.
This Shouxuan Chun Yong Hall, just like Kunning Palace, was a residence reserved only for the Empress, and had previously always stood empty.
Now, it has become Fang He’s dwelling.
By now, everyone inside and outside the palace knew—the Emperor truly cherished the Imperial Noble Consort to the bone and refused to confer the Empress title, but apart from that position, anything that should or shouldn’t be given had all been bestowed.
Fue and Fujin stood beside their mistress, who wore a sky-blue robe embroidered with four-clawed golden dragons, dutifully attending the mistress who was struggling to stay awake.
Xinhua, Xinzi, and Fule had been sent to serve the three little ones as their nannies.
Now, palace maids with the “Fu” generational name took care of the younger “Yuan” generation maids at their side.
Ever since Kangxi had decreed the promotion of Fang He as the Imperial Noble Consort Yuan Zhen, all the princesses and princes in the inner palace, upon seeing her, had to address her as Imperial Mother.
The daily greetings Fang He had always dodged could no longer be put off and had to be arranged according to custom.
Every fifth day, the consorts of the inner palace would come to pay respects to the Empress, and then the Empress would lead them to pay respects to the Empress Dowager.
Fang He could act willful and mischievous in front of Kangxi, but she would never be disrespectful to the Empress Dowager and had no choice but to accept the rules of the Empress’s rank.
The time for greeting the Empress Dowager could not be delayed, so the consorts had to rise even earlier.
Fang He could not sleep in, and every time, she was dragged out of bed by Cui Wei and Fue, allowing them to serve her from head to toe while she kept her eyes closed.
No wonder she fit in so well.
Truthfully, it was all because of a certain dog of a man.
Ever since Liang Madam declared Fang He’s health had recovered, that Lord had poured all his “rain and dew” upon her, under the guise of “settling accounts.”
If not for the fact that she was living comfortably and had agreed to quite a few unequal treaties—allowing Concubine Jing, by merit of saving princes and princesses, and her father’s service, and the excuse of never having served the Emperor in the bedchamber, to be specially granted the title Princess of Chengyuan, thus running errands for Fang He outside—she would have quarreled with Kangxi long ago.
Fang He found that Master Kang was becoming more and more like her—give him an inch, and he’d fly to the sky.
He even had Liang Madam, the Imperial Medical Institute, and Fule all turn over the medical books in Jingren Palace in search of a safe contraceptive recipe.
The matters of the Imperial Medical Institute were too complex to mention.
Liang Madam herself couldn’t help but stare at her for a long while, praising that truly, the two of them were a pair—both equally shameless.
Fang He wanted it, but it was already too late!
However, no matter how little harm those medicines brought to the body, they were always cold in nature and could cause drug resistance.
There was no way to perform a tubal ligation like in later generations, nor did she dare take some sterility medicine that could ruin her body.
In the end, Liang Madam thought of a solution.
Strictly speaking, it was Yun Sheng and Qiao Xiaoyuan.
Qiao Xiaoyuan, seeing Liang Madam’s headache and knowing it was something Fang He needed, took it upon himself to “secretly” contribute an idea.
Naren had always wanted a child, afraid Yun Sheng would be left without an heir.
But her health had suffered greatly in Beimeng years ago, and if she ever gave birth—even with Liang Madam mastering the Cesarean section technique—she couldn’t guarantee Naren’s safety.
Yun Sheng never dared to object, nor could he bear to.
He was used to quietly following this mistress and lover he’d served since childhood, and so he silently did something big.
He asked Qiao Xiaoyuan for help, and together they made a Little Umbrella!
When Fang He got her hands on it, she was amazed—this was almost as good as the ones in later generations: thin as cicada’s wings, even reusable after careful cleaning, and after soaking, it had a faintly translucent look like Mutton Fat Jade, though its elasticity was inferior.
According to the gossip Liang Madam kindly provided, Lin Chen and his wife were both keenly interested in Qiao Xiaoyuan’s business (gossip).
The paper could not wrap the fire.
Only then did Naren find out it wasn’t that she couldn’t conceive—it was her usually honest man who had started scheming behind her back.
Yun Sheng got quite a beating.
When Liang Madam presented the Little Umbrella, Yun Sheng still couldn’t face anyone, and Qiao Xiaoyuan was making soup for him every day.
The gossip had Fang He laughing hard, but her laughter soon faded.
After Kangxi received this thing, he was amazed, and even secretly summoned the two foreign ministers in Jingcheng to Chunhui Hall to see if they could improve it…
Fang He really didn’t want to ask what “basis” they used for their improvements.
In any case, it didn’t stop the two of them from romping all over, both inside and outside the bed curtains.
His “health regimen” even changed from “three days on, two days off” to “three days on, one day off,” tossing and turning till the latter half of the night every time.
Fang He yawned lazily again.
She really couldn’t understand—he was over forty, where did he get such boundless energy?
Consort Hui and Consort Rong now looked at Fang He with more awe than envy.
Fang He was now thirty-three, yet she looked as fresh and youthful as a girl in her prime, her eyes bright and clear, only with an added dignified air that made one afraid to look straight at her.
They had been favored by the Emperor before, but even then, to maintain their looks and youthful mindset, they had exhausted themselves and still couldn’t keep the Emperor’s heart.
As for this mistress?
She’d never fawned over the Emperor.
At last year’s New Year’s Eve palace banquet, she’d even distributed the dishes granted by the Emperor to the princes, saying it was for them to have with their wine, causing the Emperor to snort coldly and frightening everyone.
Yet after snorting, the Emperor went about drinking with the victorious Prince Yu and Prince Gong as he pleased, never reproaching Fang He for breaking etiquette.
In truth, the Emperor didn’t openly show how much he doted on the Imperial Noble Consort; in fact, the two bickered more often than not.
But those beneath them kept a close eye on these two masters, and it was clear to see that the Emperor’s indulgence for the Imperial Noble Consort was scattered quietly throughout the small details of daily life.
One must not think too deeply about this, or consorts like Consort Hui, Consort Rong, even Consort Yi, all once highly favored, would be left in tears to vent their frustration.
“Your Ladyship doesn’t seem well rested?” Consort Rong, never one to hesitate, spoke up with a smile.
“It’s us who can’t keep up. Ever since Concubine Jing… oh, no, Princess of Chengyuan left the palace, Your Ladyship has had to shoulder much more of the palace affairs. We deserve punishment.”
Consort Hui paused, then added, “Speaking of which, Concubine An and Concubine Jing have always kept to their place and behaved prudently. Why not let the two of them take over for Princess of Chengyuan?”
Concubine An, mid-bite of a pastry, paused and looked up at Fang He with indifference.
She felt… perhaps she wasn’t up to it, but if the Imperial Noble Consort ordered, she would do her best.
Concubine Jing also looked at Fang He, without objection.
Seventh Princess Uxieha and Jiujiu got along better and better, often staying overnight at Jiayin Hall or Ruijing Pavilion, so she needn’t worry.
The long night was hard; instead of missing someone who would never return, it was better to keep busy with tasks to pass the time.
Fang He suppressed another yawn, her eyes misty as she looked at Concubine An and Concubine Jing, then smiled at Consort Hui and Consort Rong.
“I’ve always trusted your ability. When it comes to managing palace affairs, there’s no one more experienced than the two of you.”
She knew they just feared she’d make things hard for them, so they purposefully suggested having her trusted Concubine An and Jing take charge, all to set their minds at ease.
Well, she would put their minds at ease.
Rest assured.
Absolutely.
She pointed at Consort Yi, “Besides, don’t we still have Consort Yi? Who in the harem would dare cross her? With the three of you here, I can relax.”
Consort Yi glanced playfully at Concubine An and Concubine Jing, explaining for Fang He, “Your Ladyship just can’t bear to let Concubine An and Concubine Jing end up with as many wrinkles as us from all the hard work.”
“Or maybe you’ve got some better job lined up for them—you mustn’t play favorites now!”
Concubine An, puzzled, and Concubine Jing, a bit tense, both relaxed at these words.
They knew Consort Yi was close to the Imperial Noble Consort and wouldn’t make baseless trouble.
Fang He chuckled, stood up as if harboring a secret, and kept them guessing, “Just rest easy. When the time comes for something good, you’ll definitely be included.”
The other consorts, as well as Consort Hui and Consort Rong, all heard the deeper meaning in Fang He’s words and could not help but feel a bit excited.
Selections for new court maidens were underway, and soon it would be time for the secondary and final selections in Jingcheng.
It was rumored this year’s event was grander than ever, with thirteen girls’ academies in Jingcheng serving as venues for the selections.
Would this mean they’d get to leave the palace again?
But Fang He only smiled, saying nothing, and after checking the time, led the consorts to Ruijing Pavilion.
No sooner had they entered Ruijing Pavilion than a fiery red shadow shot straight toward them.
It looked as though it was about to crash into Fang He, causing the three consorts—Hui, Yi, and Rong—behind her to cry out in alarm.
Fang He, unfazed, simply shifted aside in her flowerpot shoes, deftly making way for Jinghao, who easily caught and subdued the little firecracker.
Jiujiu, after being spun once by Jinghao to release her momentum, promptly wrapped her arms around Fang He’s waist.
“Imperial Mother, please do something about Sanbao and Sibao! They caught bugs and refused to wash their hands, but insist I carry them!”