Fang He let out a dry laugh, her face expressionless.
She donned heavy robes and headed to the front hall, her demeanor icy.
Liang Jiugong, waiting outside, exhaled in relief at her arrival and ushered her in.
“His Majesty is waiting inside, Your Ladyship. Please enter.”
Fang He covered her nose with a handkerchief, asking coolly, “How much has His Majesty had to drink?”
Would this fool start a drunken scene?
What if he tried to toss her over his shoulder?
On New Year’s Eve, she really wasn’t in the mood for such drama.
Liang Jiugong whispered, “Prince Gong, Prince Yu, the Crown Prince, and several princes toasted His Majesty. Lord Suo, fresh from treaty talks, led the ministers in toasts to celebrate. His Majesty didn’t refuse a single one…”
In other words, no one knew how much he’d drunk—just that it was a lot.
Fang He’s expression soured further.
Playing drunk to force her to back down, was he?
She turned to Chunlai in front of everyone and said, “Stay by my side and protect me. If His Majesty’s too far gone, hold him back. I’ll take any blame.”
Liang Jiugong thought, ‘Could you speak any louder? Qianqing Palace hasn’t heard you yet.’
Fang He didn’t care what he thought.
Storming into the main hall, she saw Kangxi lounging on a cushioned couch, feigning gravitas.
With a scowl, she offered a curt bow.
“This concubine wishes His Majesty well. Why has Your Majesty come at this hour?”
From the moment she entered, Kangxi’s deep, misty phoenix eyes locked onto her.
At her words, he replied tersely, his voice low, “I came to find Liang Jiugong.”
Fang He blinked.
She glanced at the door, then back at Kangxi, then at the door again.
Had he… drunk himself senseless?
Fang He tamped down her impatience, coaxing gently, “Liang Jiugong is right outside, Your Majesty. Now that you’ve found him, shouldn’t you return to Qianqing Palace? Many are waiting for you.”
Kangxi didn’t budge and replied, “I came to spend New Year’s Eve with Liang Jiugong. I don’t want him to be alone tonight.”
The servants outside exchanged dazed glances, their eyes darting to Liang Jiugong.
‘Was the chief eunuch truly so favored?’
Liang Jiugong’s face turned ashen.
By tomorrow, he’d change his name to Liang Blackpot if he could.
Fang He, too, sucked in a breath.
So that was it—she’d always suspected something between the Emperor and Liang Jiugong!
Was Yanshi Palace their secret rendezvous spot?
It explained why Kangxi stuck to the main hall whenever he came.
Everything clicked.
Still, she felt like a third wheel, and her mood to argue with him fizzled.
After all, she wasn’t the only one who’d heard this.
If the Empress Dowager asked later, Fang He, ever honest, would at most take the fall for these star-crossed lovers.
Surely the old matriarch’s wrath wouldn’t target her.
Stroking her belly, she gave a dry chuckle.
“Well then… enjoy your New Year’s Eve. Take your time, no rush.”
With that, she turned to leave.
“Wait.” Kangxi’s low voice stopped her.
He rose, striding toward her, his gaze deepening with an intensity that seemed to tighten the air around them, as if standing at the edge of an abyss.
Before he could lean closer, Fang He stepped back, clearing the doorway, lest she shine too brightly and provoke him to push her aside.
Seeing her retreat, a flicker of self-mockery passed through Kangxi’s narrowed phoenix eyes.
“You don’t need to leave. I’ll go.”
Fang He sensed something off, her voice softening.
“This concubine respectfully bids Your Majesty farewell.”
Kangxi paused at the threshold, half-turned, his face unreadable in the interplay of shadow and lantern light.
His voice, slightly hoarse, carried clear weight.
“I’ll leave after the New Year’s meal. Even for the Empress Dowager and the imperial heir, I cannot neglect you.”
He ordered, “Go, have two tables of dishes brought here.”
Liang Jiugong, realizing the Emperor meant to dine in the corridor, nearly wept.
Slipping inside, he dropped to his knees before Fang He, pleading softly, “Your Ladyship, if the kitchen staff see His Majesty eating out there, how will we explain it to the Empress Dowager? His Majesty didn’t come for this servant. Remember, in the twenty-third year, when he was drunk, it was you who tended to him, and he mistook you for me…”
Fang He blinked.
Oh, right—she’d forgotten that incident.
Recalling Kangxi’s stiff expression and words just now, a glint of amusement flashed in her eyes.
When it came to stubborn pride, she had to hand it to him.
If he hadn’t gotten drunk on purpose tonight, she’d chop off the real Liang Jiugong’s head for him to use as a stool.
Taking a deep breath, Fang He had no wish to spoil the festive mood or court trouble.
With Chunlai’s support, she stepped to the doorway, lifted the cotton curtain, and softened her tone.
“Would Your Majesty come inside to talk?”
Kangxi, his back to her, gazed at the crescent moon in the sky, silent.
Fang He smirked inwardly, then deliberately sneezed into her hand, raising her voice to Chunlai.
“Don’t hold me back! It’s just a chill. A few bowls of medicinal broth will fix it. We can’t let His Majesty—”
Kangxi spun around, his face cold, and snapped, “Get inside!”
Fang He stood her ground.
“You come in first. What would people think if they saw you out here?”
He hesitated, unmoving, then sighed helplessly, his voice low.
“If you’re near me, you’ll feel ill. I didn’t come to upset you.”
The palace staff and eunuchs around them dropped to their knees, wishing they could cut off their ears to avoid overhearing, dreading the Emperor’s sober reckoning later.
Fang He froze, torn between laughter and exasperation.
He could speak plainly when he wanted to, couldn’t he?
Cradling her belly, she said coolly, “If you don’t come in, I won’t just feel ill—I’ll lose my head. Do as you please.”
With that, she turned and went inside.
With the imperial heir as her trump card, playing the gracious one wasn’t her job.
As she settled back in the hall, Kangxi followed, still silent, sitting at the dining table and watching her on the soft couch with unblinking eyes.
Cui Wei shot her mistress covert glances, marveling.
Who else could offend the Emperor so thoroughly, refuse to yield, and still lead him by the nose?
Yet Fang He’s heart was iron—her face showed no trace of softening, only a hint of impatience.
She sent for a more comfortable cushion from the rear hall, showing no inclination to engage with him.
Kangxi, having drunk heavily at the banquet, hadn’t eaten much.
When two tables of dishes arrived at Yanshi Palace, the outer table was naturally presented in the Emperor’s name as a reward for the palace staff.
Inside, Fang He, after moving about, joined Kangxi for the meal.
It would be rude not to touch her chopsticks, so she picked at a few dishes.
The banquet food, pre-prepared and steamed for delivery, prioritized auspicious presentation over taste—hardly appetizing.
Yet Kangxi ate with relish.
Fang He had a plate of pre-made dragon’s beard candy brought out, offering him two pieces while she nibbled on one slowly.
By the time they finished, it was nearly midnight.
Yawning, Fang He rose, gave a calm curtsey, and said evenly, “Wishing Your Majesty a prosperous New Year, long life, and good health. May all your wishes come true. This concubine is tired and will retire. I won’t see you out.”
Liang Jiugong quietly added, “The clan is still waiting at Qianqing Palace, Your Majesty. You should return, lest the Empress Dowager worry.”
Kangxi rose silently, walked Fang He to the doorway, and watched her vanish down the corridor before turning to leave.
His steps never faltered.
Back in the hall, Fule promptly attended to Fang He, soaking her feet to ease the strain.
She’d sat longer than usual and eaten heartily, and Fule feared swelling by morning.
Cui Wei, standing by, spoke hesitantly.
“My lady, I think His Majesty has let go of his anger and is trying to make amends. On such an important day, he left the empresses and clan to come here, worried you’d be alone. I’ve never seen him so devoted to anyone.”
“Your defiance of imperial authority—he’s shielded you, sparing you any trouble. You won’t yield, so he lingers in the front hall, afraid you’d feel ill near him. To speak plainly, no man in this world, even outside the palace, would be such a husband. It’s a pipe dream. Aren’t you moved at all?”
Fang He laughed softly, propping her head lazily.
“Moved? Sure. Didn’t I dine with him?”
She was touched, but only faintly.
No matter what he did, it didn’t change his presumptuous, stubborn arrogance.
Perhaps he stayed silent to protect her, asking her to bear it a little longer, quietly sacrificing on her behalf.
But such protection felt like condescension toward a woman.
His indulgence did make her days in the palace easier, giving her hope for the future.
For that, she’d be more deferential going forward.
But that was all.
Fang He had reflected on her past impulsiveness, aware that she’d caused Kangxi no small amount of trouble, that her immaturity had played its part.
But at the root of it all, she’d once had the chance to live her life as a carefree child, never burdening him with any of this.
Patting Cui Wei’s arm, she said, “Remember this: if a woman is too good at imagining stories and getting swept up in her own emotions, she’s not far from being sold out and still counting the silver for her buyer.”
Cui Wei opened her mouth to protest, but Fang He, overcome with exhaustion, stifled a yawn and cut her off.
“The Emperor is a master at weighing pros and cons. No matter how well he treats me, it’s only for the sake of the imperial heir. Look at Consort De—three children, and yet she’s still in this state, still a lofty consort, is she?”
Cui Wei was left speechless, struck by her mistress’s clarity.
She’d forgotten that, though Consort De lay comatose in Yonghe Palace, merely clinging to life, she still held her rank.
As Cui Wei tapped her forehead, chiding herself to stay sharp, a faint rustle passed over the eaves, quickly fading, drowned out by the sound of her own hand.
The next day, Kangxi awoke to find a note on the stool by his bed.
He opened it, read it, and fell into a thoughtful silence before burning it over a candle.
After washing and before heading to practice his martial forms, he instructed Liang Jiugong coolly, “Have word spread to the Empress Dowager that I visited Yanshi Palace last night.”
Liang Jiugong blinked, stunned.
Was His Majesty asking for a scolding?
***
At Cining Palace, Empress Dowager Xiaozhuang, feeling unwell, kept the morning greetings brief.
Aside from a few words with the Empress and some Mongol princesses married into the court, she only had the others kowtow in the courtyard before dismissing them.
When the imperial report arrived, Xiaozhuang and the Empress had just finished breakfast.
“The Emperor spent an hour at Yanshi Palace last night? He didn’t return to Qianqing Palace until midnight?”
The Empress’s shock was palpable, and she pressed, “Is something wrong with Lady Zhao’s health?”
Yu Quan, bowing low, replied, “The physician’s report found no issues. It’s said… His Majesty went to share New Year’s Eve dinner with Lady Zhao. He ordered two tables of dishes for Yanshi Palace and rewarded its servants.”
The Empress exhaled in relief, but noticing Xiaozhuang’s darkening expression, she quickly sobered.
“The Emperor’s behavior is outrageous. How could he be so reckless? What if he startled Lady Zhao’s baby? Was he drunk?”
Yu Quan bowed lower and replied, “Indeed, after Her Majesties left, within half an hour, His Majesty was intoxicated.”
The Empress nodded, about to speak, when “crack”—Xiaozhuang slammed her chopsticks on the table.
The Empress’s heart clenched.
“Aunt, this isn’t Lady Zhao’s fault…”
“I didn’t say it was!” Xiaozhuang snapped, cutting her off.
“You all coddle her like she’s the apple of your eye, but who’s looking out for me?”
Switching to Mongolian, she unleashed a torrent of curses.
“That scoundrel is determined to vex me to death, acting more lawless by the day! News from the imperial presence reaches Cining Palace this fast—don’t you wonder why?”
The Empress hesitated.
“Aunt, you mean the Emperor…”
It couldn’t be.
Kangxi wasn’t that shameless, was he?
Xiaozhuang, her earlier lethargy burned away by fury, gave a cold laugh and settled onto a cushioned couch.
“He thinks I don’t know his temper? He’s sharper with cutting words than anyone, but good luck getting him to speak plainly. When he doesn’t care, he looks every inch the proper man. But when something matters to him, he’d challenge the heavens themselves, mouth be damned!”
Xiaozhuang had been strict with Kangxi in his youth, raising him to be a great emperor.
He’d taken the dynasty to heart, reading assigned texts twenty times when she asked, then two hundred more in secret, hiding it from her.
Once, he’d pushed himself to collapse, spitting blood, sending the court into panic.
Xiaozhuang had rushed to him, interrogating until the truth came out.
For a time, everyone feared the young emperor wouldn’t live long.
Then there was the Persian cat he’d kept as a boy, hidden under his dragon bed to avoid accusations of frivolity or her taking it away.
The stench had fouled Qianqing Palace until, exasperated, she’d struck his palms.
The stubborn boy claimed it was his own sweat until Cao Yin cracked and confessed, sparing a bigger scandal.
After her scolding, he’d sulked alone in the Imperial Garden, nearly sparking rumors of an assassin’s kidnapping.
As he grew older, he’d mastered emperorship, and such incidents faded.
Yet now, he’d met someone more troublesome than any cat.
This time, unable to back down, he’d deliberately caused a stir, expecting her to clean up his mess.
Xiaozhuang laughed through her anger.
“Is the Emperor hoping you’ll talk to Lady Zhao?” the Empress asked, stifling a smile.
Xiaozhuang snorted.
“He doesn’t want me to talk—he wants you to. Didn’t Garudai and Wuxiha go to your palace? I reckon if those two are still at odds, the issue lies with the Uya clan.”
The Empress’s eyes lit up.
“With all the New Year’s bustle, I forgot this matter entirely. My fault! I’ll go to Yanshi Palace myself—her pregnancy’s too far along for her to come here. We can’t let them keep feuding like this.”
After the Empress left, Xiaozhuang’s smile faded, her brow furrowing as she turned to Su Mo’er and asked, “Tell me, was it a mistake to let that girl stay?”
She genuinely didn’t know if keeping someone Kangxi cared so deeply for was wise or dangerous.
The Qing dynasty could ill afford another Hailanzhu or Dong E.
But with Fang He already pregnant, regret was pointless.
Xiaozhuang began to consider drafting a posthumous edict.
Just then, Yu Quan hurried into the hall and announced, “My lady, a young palace maid with Yonghe Palace’s token, claims to be here on Consort De’s orders to have a secret concerning the dynasty’s stability to report to you.”
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