The thirty-seventh year of Kangxi, spring.
With a single night of spring wind, the last traces of deep winter’s chill were swept away.
A gentle, lingering drizzle shrouded all of Jingcheng, turning it into a scene reminiscent of Jiangnan’s watery villages.
Tender young leaves caressed by rain quivered with sparkling drops, stretching deep into Hats Lane, blocked at the gate by tall phoenix trees, which also kept the faint chime of golden bells from drifting out of the inner residence.
Everything was tranquil, as if painted in an artist’s ink wash, lending an even greater elegance to the spring rain.
Who would have expected the spring breeze to turn abruptly sharp; before the branches could react, two lines of guards riding in with a chill swept through, stirring the early spring air.
“Neighhh—”
The hoofbeats—”thud thud thud thud”—just came to a halt.
The sturdy figures atop the horses hurriedly dismounted and rushed to the inconspicuous palanquin at the rear, lowering their voices to report.
“Master, this is the place.”
As Zhao Chang finished speaking, a large hand with clearly defined joints slightly lifted the palanquin curtain, revealing Kangxi’s cold, no—harsh and somber face.
“Don’t disturb the people inside,” Kangxi ordered in a deep voice from within the sedan.
“Clear out all unrelated people first. If today’s matter leaks out, you can accept punishment yourself!”
Zhao Chang bowed his head to hide his bitter expression, but didn’t dare delay for even a moment.
He quickly walked to the entrance of a grand residence lit with two big red lanterns.
Glancing at the three lipstick-stained characters, “Yiqian Pavilion”, above the door, he felt a bit dazed.
He had indeed been here before, but he had never thought that one day he’d come to…invite the Imperial Noble Consort back to the palace.
Thinking of himself, Zhao Chang—from three generations back, his family had served the Emperor.
Though not fabulously rich or noble, in terms of imperial trust, his Zhao family could rival anyone.
He had become the Emperor’s “haha pearl” at age seven, and when the Master ascended the throne, his own status rose with the tide.
Though he couldn’t compare to Cao Yin or Nalan Mingzhu in prominence, he was still one of the top imperial guards.
He was even the leader of the royal Shadow Guards.
Sometimes, after a drink or two, he would shamelessly claim that in all Great Qing, none were more trusted by the Emperor than him.
Even that old fox Liang Jiugong couldn’t compare.
But at this moment, he could only wish the Emperor didn’t trust him so much.
He really didn’t want to know so many things!
Zhao Chang maintained a blank face as he waved his hand, bringing dozens of men in black over the wall, quickly seeking out the steward of Yiqian Pavilion—who was from the Fuqin’s family of Prince Kang’s Mansion.
Yes, this was property of the Prince Kang Mansion.
Had Jiashu not been seriously ill and unable to manage here, Kangxi wouldn’t have come in person.
With his imperial guard token, Zhao Chang quickly took control of Yiqian Pavilion, opened the doors from within, and returned to the palanquin, looking visibly more relaxed.
“Master, Master…the Madam is inside with the two lady proprietresses from Tianya Health Preservation House and Tianya Inn. Only a dancing girl was called in to perform.”
Kangxi: “…”
‘What, did you expect her to call in a boy courtesan?’
He couldn’t be bothered with Zhao Chang’s relieved look.
He stepped out of the palanquin, not caring at all about the rain striking him, and, without waiting for an umbrella, strode right in.
Yiqian Pavilion had a front courtyard and rear building.
The front was a large three-entry courtyard, and behind it rose a three-story tower.
The subtlety of Yiqian Pavilion was that if you entered from the small alley, the courtyard came first, but the main gate actually opened on the tower side, welcoming guests in grand style.
The tower catered to ordinary clients seeking food and pleasure, while the courtyard was divided with pavilions and gazebos—reserved for the entertainment of the elite.
Zhao Chang was relieved that, even in her jealous fit, the Imperial Noble Consort had at least remembered her status and not gone up into the tower.
Otherwise, the men he’d brought would not have sufficed to clear all three floors, and word of today’s events would definitely have spread.
He subconsciously smoothed his clothes, then hurried to catch up and lead the way with an umbrella for Kangxi.
They soon reached a particularly quiet little courtyard in the right-hand corner—Mingyue Residence.
At the gate, two magnolia trees stood poised like elegant ladies, welcoming guests.
Kangxi, however, didn’t spare even a glance at the prized magnolias, only striding in with a stern face.
At the door, men in black guarded both the main and side rooms, kneeling in silent salute.
The side room housed the staff for the courtyard; the main room—
As Kangxi approached, he immediately heard Fang He’s cheerful laughter from inside.
“It’s truly beautiful! Even in…never seen such a lovely palm dance! This calls for a big drink!”
Inside, it was unclear if it was Liang Madam or Naren advising her, “Stop drinking! If you get too drunk, we’ll have to knock you out and throw you back into the palace!”
None of them dared let Fang He make a scene in a place like this.
When the Princess of Chengyuan had asked them over, Naren had already felt a headache coming on.
Back in Jiangnan, Fang He always snatched any opportunity to act out in disguise whenever their eyes were averted.
At least then, no one knew her identity, and Fan Shaohui’s name had a reputation for enjoying such places.
But now, she was the Imperial Noble Consort!
A status akin to the Mother of the Nation!
If anyone discovered that the revered Imperial Noble Consort Zhen, worshipped by all the women of the empire, liked to frequent brothels, the heavens outside might just collapse.
That’s why they’d come ahead to arrange for all the dancers to be girls they’d saved and kept at Tianya Inn in Jiangnan—none of Yiqian Pavilion’s usual staff were called in.
When Fang He was sober, she was skilled at retreating or advancing as needed, never exposing herself inappropriately.
But once she drank, she feared no one but the walls—sky above, herself second, the rest be damned.
So, at the mention of “returning to the palace”, she slapped the table, wincing in pain, but her eyes bright with excitement.
“I’m not going back! That…that man doesn’t have me in his heart, letting a female official attend to him up close!” Fang He nearly blurted out “that dog”, but managed to swallow it.
As soon as she thought about it, her eyes grew even more hazy, cheeks puffed out in aggrieved protest.
“I’m Fang He, yet he sent over a Yuan He, and even made a point to send her right to me. If he’s tired of me, why not just say it directly?! I asked him what was going on and demanded an explanation, but he actually said, don’t I already know in my heart? If I knew, would I even ask?!”
Outside, Kangxi was fuming.
At first, he’d tried to explain, but she wouldn’t listen.
Didn’t he clear it up in the end?
But if this wretch wanted to nitpick, any excuse, no matter how far-fetched, could be wielded with righteous fervor.
Inside, Naren had a pounding headache, while Liang Madam watched with a “let’s see the drama” look, raising her brow to coax Fang He to put down—and then pick up—her wine cup.
“So how did you respond?”
Fang He pressed her wine-stained, reddened lips together.
Even drunk, she knew to control herself.
Otherwise…if her laughter reached outsiders’ ears, she’d be doomed.
She leaned against Liang Madam, giggling furtively like a mouse that’d stolen oil, thinking she was whispering, “Of course I cried, made a scene, and acted pitiful! Hahaha…like I don’t know he’s jealous of Xiao Yuan and trying to pick on Little Fang through me? If I didn’t get jealous, how would he know I cared about him? We’ve got five children already; it’s not like we can just split up!”
“You…don’t know how long I’ve been eyeing the handsome ladies and gents out there, haha… Finally found a chance! If I get jealous but don’t run away from home, does it even count as jealousy?”
Liang Madam hurriedly caught Fang He before she collapsed from laughing too hard, exchanging a helpless glance with Naren.
They’d thought Fang He was really upset in the palace and wanted to drown her sorrows, and had worried all the way here about how to console her.
Turns out the “hurt” was fake, and the drinking and drama were real.
Naren asked cautiously, “But weren’t all those things last year? Are you and…that man still at odds?”
Last September, Fule had sent word that the Emperor and Imperial Noble Consort had quarreled.
There’d been no news since.
At this point, Fang He’s mind was a muddled mess; everything before her doubled, she couldn’t tell who was speaking, nor what Naren said.
Waving her hands, she tried to jump up, “Where’s the palm dance? I want to see the palm dance! If he can do it on the first, I can do it on the fifteenth!”
“Fifteenth…waaah, mother’s second baby, your father is so mean!” She nearly got herself stuck in bed with all the jealousy.
“I feel so useless, so upset!” she whined, snuggling up to Liang Madam, waving three fingers.
“I need a cup of sweet wine to feel better! Otherwise I’m going to make a scene, waaah~”
Outside, Kangxi’s face was growing darker by the moment.
As he thought, with her cleverness, how could she cause a scene in front of outsiders without reason?
The day she’d met Xitala Clan’s daughter, she’d stormed straight back to Shouxuan Chun Yong Hall and wouldn’t see him for days.
Afterwards, she’d run off in a huff to Hot Springs Palace, and with Consort Yi and the others, went to Wu Long Pavilion to visit the concubines—leaving Kangxi furious.
In her heart, everyone seemed more important than the man at her pillow; whenever anything happened, she’d fly off like a butterfly.
If she hadn’t had ideas about clearing out the harem, stirring up such a commotion, would he have needed to resort to iron-handed tactics to warn those clan members and officials who wanted to emulate Shangguan Yi?
Some of those involved were even from the Aisin Gioro clan, and he hadn’t even fully grasped the Plain Blue Banner—too much speculation could breed resentment among the banners.
So Kangxi had especially selected Xitala Clan’s daughter for his presence—she was the legitimate daughter of one of those exiled from Jingcheng.
His idea, according to Fang He’s wishes, was to question Xitala Clan’s intent, pick one from among the “red sashes” he’d granted, and have Fang He bestow a marriage.
These ladies entered the palace as female officials for the purpose of imperial marriages, but Fang He’s rule required them to serve as female officials for three years—Kangxi would not offend her pride by marrying them off too soon.
He just hadn’t expected, by pushing this matter, to place someone with ulterior motives in a side hall, providing her with a chance to stir things up.
By New Year’s Eve, Fang He had naturally returned to the palace, and Kangxi had explained everything.
As for Yuan He, Kangxi had already ordered Liang Jiugong to send her back to her family and reclaimed the Mudanyuan token bestowed by Fang He.
That alone would ensure Yuan He regretted it for life in the convent. Â
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