Fang He returned to Yanxi Palace, still savoring that gentle yet attentive smile of Kangxi, lingering in her mind for a long time.
Even though many people were waiting inside Yanxi Palace, all expecting her to socialize, she still couldn’t quite control her pounding heartbeat.
It wasn’t the urge to drag someone behind the curtains, but rather…a far more unfamiliar, yet deeply settling flutter in her heart.
She knew very well—this rascal had been a bit off ever since the grasslands.
The way he indulged Er Bao outside the city gates, the favoritism at the conferment ceremony—all premeditated.
She could even sense the Crown Prince was behaving oddly, too.
But the most tangible benefit was that she and Er Bao, as well as Jiujiu, now truly had their fates firmly in her own hands.
Compared to those effortless, flowery words of affection, she preferred this kind of affection where the cost was clear from the start.
Could this be the “love” her ex-boyfriend always spoke of in her previous life, the one she never understood?
In her world, she herself was always most important, then came the children and the Empress Dowager, and only after that, Kangxi.
But, well…perhaps she did have a bit of that wretched streak in her bones.
The more calculating Kangxi was, the more she liked him.
Fortunately, he wasn’t some lovesick fool.
Good, because she wasn’t any good thing herself.
“Master, Master?” Cui Wei softly reminded her, a mischievous smile at the corners of her lips.
Though her smile didn’t change, the voice that reached Fang He’s ear was slightly gritted through her teeth.
“Prince Yu’s Consort is talking to you. All the Consorts are watching you!”
Fang He smiled as she looked towards Prince Yu’s Consort, Xiluke.
“Just now, I was thinking of His Majesty’s private instructions and lost my train of thought. Consort, what were you saying about the crown prince?”
Prince Yu’s Consort didn’t care at all.
Even if the Imperial Noble Consort deliberately ignored her, with the Imperial Noble Consort’s current favor, no one dared utter a word.
She laughed, “So the Imperial Noble Consort is aware, previously Guwalgiya was the most praised talented lady in our Women’s Academy. After she received the imperial decree to marry, she’s kept herself secluded, causing all the noble ladies at the academy to worry. When will our future Crown Princess return to the academy?”
Concubine Jing was not planning to leave the palace anytime soon.
Affairs of the Women’s Academy outside the palace were nominally managed by Fang He and Concubine Jing, but in reality, it was Prince Yu’s Consort and Prince Gong’s Consort who handled them.
Xiluke asked this not because she expected the future Crown Princess to resume her studies, but likely because she worried that once Guwalgiya became the Crown Princess, she would take over all affairs of the Women’s Academy.
Though the Women’s Academy had only been open for half a year, the two prince consorts could already sense its subtle power.
Noble daughters of the Eight Banners, Manchu, Mongol, and Han, all considered it an honor to attend the Women’s Academy.
Especially with the Imperial Noble Consort’s recent conferment and unmatched limelight, any Women’s Academy organized by Fang He would undoubtedly attract even more of the ladies’ adoration.
They didn’t care much about court affairs; they only knew that to please the Imperial Noble Consort was to please the Emperor.
No matter what, it was a connection that might come in handy in the future.
Furthermore, not every unmarried noble girl in the academy was clever—there were always loose-tongued ones who could pick up all sorts of private matters from the rear residences.
Often, a glance at what was going on in the back residence could reveal all sorts of clues about a household—making the academy an ideal source of information.
Moreover, among the showgirls, some had passed the first or second selections, and some, even after making the final list, were not yet betrothed—they would be sought after by suitable families.
The families behind these showgirls all sought to marry upwards.
So, it was inevitable that all would need to speak with those in charge.
With the two prince consorts now enjoying soaring status in the capital, they were the stars of every banquet, outshining even the princes themselves.
The taste of power was too tempting.
Even the ever-gentle Prince Gong’s Consort, Ma Jia, was reluctant to let go.
Fang He’s eyes flickered.
She already understood Kangxi’s intentions, and since she had benefited, naturally, she had to help her man promote the Crown Prince.
She smiled and asked, “I didn’t notice—how old is Guwalgiya this year?”
Prince Gong’s Consort replied, “She’ll come of age after New Year’s. The Dowager of Prince Kang’s Residence will act as principal guest at her coming-of-age hair-pinning ceremony, just after the Dragon Raising Its Head festival.”
With help from Cui Wei and the consultants, Fang He had nearly unraveled the intricate web of relations among the Eight Banners, Manchu, Mongol, and Han in both the capital and Shengjing.
The Dowager Prince Gong referred to was the principal wife of He Shuo Hui Shun Prince Huse—Prince Kang’s mother.
Prince Kang Jieshu was close to the grave, and the old dowager was said to be over ninety.
More importantly, her surname was Yehenara, daughter of Anabu from the Yehenara tribe.
The name sounded unfamiliar, and with Manchu-Mongol names so lengthy and difficult, Fang He found them hard to remember.
But Cui Wei gossiped, saying this Anabu was once Huang Taiji’s mother-in-law!
Apparently, that side consort of Taizong, after Hailanzhu entered the palace and received all his favor, was so furious she struck Taizong and remarried three times.
Taizong never uttered a word in protest—what a formidable woman!
Fang He immediately remembered.
Yes, the Dowager of Prince Kang’s Residence was Huang Taiji’s sister-in-law and also the daughter-in-law of DaiÅ¡an, the great beile of early Qing—a life of honor, fortune, and longevity.
For the Shijia family to invite her, they must be spending big to build up the future Crown Princess’s prestige.
But, she couldn’t let Shijia have everything their way.
Fang He smiled, “When I went to the grasslands earlier, the Empress Dowager was gravely ill, and I attended her all the while. Everyone knows that, don’t you?”
Prince Yu’s Consort exchanged a teasing glance with Prince Gong’s Consort.
“Of course, we’ve heard the Imperial Noble Consort even neglected His Majesty because of it. Prince Gong courted misfortune and got himself punished with the biandan. Your filial devotion, just as His Majesty said, moved heaven and earth.”
Though a bit tough on the Prince… and the princes, too.
The other noble ladies covered their mouths, giggling.
Even Prince Gong’s Consort shook her head with a helpless smile.
Her husband’s unruly ways were well known, only slightly better than Ailing’a, and all the capital knew it—she was used to it.
Fang He quickly waved her hand, her face modest as she spoke seriously, “I don’t mean to brag. It was just that the Grand Empress Dowager appeared in my dreams, telling me a palace secret that left me shocked and unsure what to do even now.”
She paused at the perfect moment, and Consort Yi promptly played along, chiding, “Why didn’t you tell us, Imperial Noble Consort? What secret could frighten you so?”
Fang He sighed, “The Grand Empress Dowager said, among the children of our Eight Banners families, far too many die young—not because of past dynastic misfortunes, but because they marry too early.”
The two prince consorts froze, their faces instantly turning pale.
Both had lost children—not just one—especially in their early married years.
Other noble ladies and consorts who’d lost children also fell silent.
Fang He continued, “Thirteen, fifteen—such ages are beautiful, but still growing. Their bodies aren’t yet strong enough.”
“Old farmers know you must choose good seeds and plant in fertile soil for a good harvest next year. If the seed is poor, or the soil isn’t ready… you may harvest nothing at all.”
The two prince consorts recalled their eldest sons who died young and their sickly eldest daughters; they couldn’t help but tear up.
They had always thought it was their own fault—now it seemed it wasn’t just them, but bad seeds, too?
Consort Hui and Consort Rong also remembered their lost children, rendered speechless.
It wasn’t that they had nothing to say, but they preferred to believe Fang He’s words, to let time take the blame instead of their own failure to protect their children.
This time, it was Duke Niu’s Consort, Dong’e Shiniu, who gently but firmly asked, “May I ask, Imperial Noble Consort, does the Empress Dowager and the Emperor know of this? What do they plan to do?”
Fang He sighed again, replying helplessly, “His Majesty is aware, and that’s why he instructed me not to trouble the Empress Dowager, as she’s exhausted from travel and needs peace. He asked me to handle this matter. I’d also like to hear your thoughts.”
She smiled and continued, “Bestowing marriages on showgirls has always been a blind match, leading to many resentful couples—imperial misfortune, really, and it wastes His Majesty’s grace. It shouldn’t be like this.”
Seeing Fang He pause again, Concubine Jing pressed, “Don’t keep us guessing, Imperial Noble Consort. Just tell us what you want to do.”
Although she’d read such stories before, watching a heroine step by step become a legend was far more interesting than just reading about it—so Concubine Jing couldn’t help but play along.
Fang He, seeing no one objected—and even if they did, they had to hold it in—spoke plainly.
“I want to hold a flower viewing banquet around spring plowing and before the Double Ninth Festival, inviting imperial relatives and the showgirls who’ve passed the final selection to admire flowers and compete in poetry. If matches arise, I can ask the Empress Dowager to grant the marriages.”
“Or, if conflicts break out, I think in the future, imperial princes should not marry before eighteen, and princesses not before sixteen. That will give young people more time to consider. If a match turns sour, the court can change the marriage decree.”
“What do you all think?”
As soon as Fang He suggested the first idea, the noble ladies and consorts began to whisper, Consort Rong’s face not looking too pleased.
Third Prince would only be seventeen after the New Year, Dong E was fourteen.
They wouldn’t be able to marry for at least two more years.
How long would it take to have a grandson, then?
She still hoped for a legitimate eldest grandson, so Yinzhi would gain more favor with the Emperor.
But now, no one dared speak first.
Because, regardless of their own thoughts, the Crown Princess would only be fifteen next year—marriage would be delayed to the following year.
By then, the Crown Prince would be twenty-one.
If this spread, the court would be in an uproar—but it wasn’t something the ladies could decide.
Fang He smiled at Concubine Jing, who gave a slight nod, then rose with a smile.
This was just like the reform of the selection process—it wouldn’t be easy, and would take time.
“Alright, today is my big day—let’s set this aside for now. We should go pay respects to the Empress Dowager.”
After the noble ladies paid respects, Fang He led the consorts and noble ladies to visit the Empress Dowager, now addressed as Imperial Mother.
This was all part of the procedures prearranged by imperial decree with the Ministry of Rites and the Imperial Household Department.
Otherwise, after thanking His Majesty at Qianqing Palace, Fang He should have gone straight to Shoukang Palace before returning to Yanxi Palace to receive the ladies’ homage.
Everyone was glad the Imperial Noble Consort didn’t bring up difficult matters.
Under Fang He’s lead, the group headed grandly to Shoukang Palace, laughter and joy filling the air, and the conferment ceremony drew to a smooth close.
***
When Yanxi Palace finally quieted down, Fang He was utterly exhausted.
Even without kneeling all day, just the ceremonial attire—which used several catties of gold thread—plus the court crown, pearls, beaded pendants, and cloud shoulders adorned with pearls, coral, and gemstones, weighed at least twenty catties altogether.
Even sitting still, carrying that weight for a day had drained her.
If not for the dignity of the Imperial Noble Consort, she would have asked someone to carry her to bed lying down.
Cui Wei brought Xinhua and Xinzi, as well as Fule and Fuxi, who had gradually been keeping company with Xinhua and Xinzi.
The five quietly helped Fang He remove her heavy attire.
After changing, Fang He couldn’t help but let out a groan.
She suddenly felt light enough to float, ready to fly at any moment—she never wanted to feel weighed down to the ground again.
Just thinking that for future grand ceremonies, she would have to wear this outfit to pay respects to the Empress Dowager and the Emperor, she wanted to rush to her ancestors to complain.
Cui Wei knew her mistress was exhausted.
Even their embroidered shoes had worn their heels numb by now.
She massaged Fang He’s shoulders while softly suggesting, “It’s your joyous day, let me draw your bath and help you change into something lighter?”
“What lighter clothes?” Fang He croaked.
“How about the bright red inner robe to greet His Majesty?”
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