Fang He, seeing he didn’t want to explain, didn’t push further and simply dropped her smile.
“I’d just chill out!”
She leaned closer; since she couldn’t reach his head, she poked his chest with her finger and said, “Whatever you want to do, I won’t ask. I know you won’t harm me or the children. But if you’ve made a decision in your heart, don’t repeat past mistakes.”
She looked up at Kangxi and continued, “I don’t have your grand strategies, nor do I understand all those lofty principles. But aside from being your consort, I’m a mother—I won’t watch my children go down the wrong path.”
Kangxi’s heart trembled faintly, the dark anger that had been brewing in him suddenly stilled.
He was silent for a long time, and just when Fang He thought he wouldn’t answer, Kangxi sighed.
“I wouldn’t either.”
No matter what, he would give the Crown Prince a chance; he didn’t want to see Yinreng descend into ruin.
The Imperial Majesty returned to the palace, with only a few days left before the Golden Grain Festival.
He had been away for nearly three months and had accumulated a mountain of state affairs to attend to—so many that he barely had time to sleep or eat.
Fang He took the children directly back to Yanxi Palace, but she was no less busy.
Her ceremony to be conferred as Imperial Noble Consort was set for two days before the Golden Grain Festival.
With less than ten days left, she needed to try on court attire, have Yanxi Palace prepared according to the standards for an Imperial Noble Consort, and arrange for the noble ladies’ formal visits.
At the same time, she had to oversee Consort Hui, Consort Rong, Consort Yi, and Concubine Jing in preparing festival gifts and handle all manner of affairs in the harem.
Once those were done, people from the Imperial Household Department and Ministry of Rites would come to deliver congratulatory gifts from various households, and she’d have to arrange with Gu Wenxing and Cui Wei to sort out the relationships and prepare return gifts.
In short, husband and wife were equally busy.
Kangxi had no time to visit at night.
On the rare occasion he did come by, they were both too exhausted for anything more, and they’d started to have the air of an old married couple.
On the eve of the conferral ceremony, lying in Kangxi’s arms with not a ripple of emotion, Fang He, just before drifting into sleep, had a sudden thought.
Just one more year, and they’d hit that legendary ‘seven-year itch!’
After the conferral, it would be the end of the year.
They’d have to handle New Year gifts and officials coming to Jingcheng to report.
Then spring would bring the Imperial Examination and spring planting, followed by the Emperor’s birthday celebration.
Who knew when Beimeng might start up again—if Kangxi left, he might be gone for half a year.
She felt passion was already running low, her consciousness growing fuzzy with worry.
If things went on like this, would they end up like two hands, bland and tasteless?
This wouldn’t do—she needed to spice things up for him…
That night, for the first time, Fang He dreamt of her best friend, the tree-climbing expert Darningzi.
“Sometimes, sentimentality is even more arousing than passion…”
“I’m telling you, nothing works better than a nostalgia trip…”
In her dream, Fang He nodded along, even giggling out loud.
Kangxi, rising before dawn to attend court, was having Liang Jiugong help him into his dragon robe when he heard that lascivious, cheerful laugh from inside the bed curtains.
Liang Jiugong’s hand trembled, and any movement in the small hall instantly fell silent.
Cui Wei took a deep breath, hurried forward, and lifted the curtain a little to peek in.
Her mistress was smacking her lips, sleeping soundly, every bit as sweetly as the little masters.
Facing Kangxi’s peculiar gaze, Cui Wei forced a dry laugh.
“Our mistress… is happy, very happy, probably even dreaming of walking alongside Your Majesty.”
Kangxi thought to himself, ‘it’d be more believable if she were dreaming about collecting congratulatory gifts.’
But after leaving for Qianqing Palace, Cui Wei’s words stuck with him.
Walking side by side… perhaps it wasn’t impossible after all.
***
The conferral ceremony for the Imperial Noble Consort began with Grand Academician of Wenyuange and Left Metropolitan Censor Chen Tingjing as chief officiant, and Grand Academician of Wu Ying Dian and Minister of Rites Xiong Cilu as deputy, arriving at Yanxi Palace to deliver the decree.
After receiving the decree, Fang He would proceed to Qianqing Palace to express gratitude, receive the officials’ bows, and then return to Yanxi Palace to receive the noble ladies’ formal visits.
In short, as much fuss as possible.
She was well prepared for all the walking, having Xinhua and Xinzi sew thick padding into the knees of her undergarments to make kneeling easier in the cold.
But when Chen Tingjing and Xiong Cilu arrived, before Cui Wei could even finish laying the cushions, Chen Tingjing respectfully saluted.
“Imperial Noble Consort Zhen, His Majesty commands by word of mouth: you may receive the decree standing—no need to kneel.”
So this was why he’d agreed with her suggestion for padded kneeling?
Of course, standing was better.
She stood there, listening as Chen Tingjing recited a florid essay in her praise.
Then Xiong Cilu, with officials from the Ministry of Rites and Deputy Chief of the Imperial Household Department Wei Zhu, as well as all palace staff and eunuchs, offered their congratulations.
All this took over half an hour.
By the time they reached the Qianqing Palace plaza, it was already past the second hour of the morning, just as the sun shone brightest.
Kangxi stood atop the white jade stairs, clad in a bright yellow robe with five-clawed golden dragons, smiling as he watched Fang He descend from the ceremonial procession, also clad in bright yellow silk with bird and dragon patterns.
As she stepped down from between the dragon-phoenix and pheasant-feathered fans, the civil and military officials were all visibly moved.
Especially Suo’etu and the Crown Prince, whose faces were taut, struggling to maintain even a semblance of a smile, biting their lips hard to keep composure.
According to Great Qing’s rules, only the Empress could wear the bright yellow festive robe.
The Imperial Noble Consort and other concubines could not wear yellow, only autumn fragrance-colored patterns on stone-blue attire.
Court attire could bear dragon motifs, but not phoenix.
But Fang He’s court dress, aside from lacking the phoenix, was otherwise indistinguishable from the Empress’s festive robe—even her crown and beads were inlaid with Eastern Pearl and coral.
Not to mention her ceremonial procession.
Compared to the phoenix carriage reserved for the Empress Dowager and Empress, it only lacked the distinctive nine-phoenix parasol; everything else was the same.
Was His Majesty using the rules for the Empress to confer the Imperial Noble Consort?
Absurd!
Several Yushi had faces dark as iron.
If not for the fact that the ceremony was underway and both the Ministry of Rites and Imperial Household Department showed no alarm, they would surely have rushed out to remonstrate.
But Yushi weren’t fools; since the Ministry of Rites was unperturbed, and no word had leaked in advance, there must be a reason.
The officials all waited for an explanation.
Kangxi acted as if he hadn’t noticed the tension below; those things no longer mattered.
He watched with a smile as Fang He ascended the steps.
This was the wife in his heart—he would not let her suffer any further grievances.
She had once flown free, and it was he who had caged her within these four walls, unable to let go for a lifetime.
Now, before all, he would return her wings one by one, letting her soar across his lands.
When Fang He was supposed to kneel before the four bronze tripods to thank Heaven for the imperial favor, Kangxi stepped forward and took her hand.
Fang He blinked at him—her court dress was already against the rules.
If she didn’t kneel, wouldn’t the Yushi be ready to jump out of their skins?
Kangxi smiled and said, “Imperial Noble Consort Zhen has rendered great merit by saving the Grand Empress Dowager and attending the Empress Dowager on her journey north, her filial piety moving Heaven. By special command of the Empress Dowager, Imperial Noble Consort Zhen is exempted from kneeling, except at the Grand Sacrifice.”
Fang He’s eyes shone brighter, full of gratitude as she glanced toward Shoukang Palace.
‘Hurray, being rich was better than being with a man—much more reliable!’
Kangxi: “…..”
If it weren’t in public, he would have liked to open up her heart to see if she really cared at all.
If not for his request, even if the Empress Dowager had wanted to, she wouldn’t have dared make such a proposal.
Yet Fang He only seemed to notice the goodness others showed her.
Fortunately, Fang He was perceptive enough to turn and flash him a sweet smile before respectfully bowing.
“Thank you for the imperial grace. I will serve the Empress Dowager and His Majesty well, setting an example for the harem.”
Kangxi squeezed her hand, drawing her to stand by his side, facing the officials together.
Yinreng’s gentle expression faded bit by bit.
He stood closest to Kangxi and Fang He, and saw most clearly—Fang He did not retreat a step, but stood right at Kangxi’s side, shoulder to shoulder.
The Eldest Prince and the other princes also gradually realized, looking over at Yinreng in shock.
Yinreng clenched his fists, jaw tight.
This was an honor reserved for the Empress!
In that instant, Yinreng’s hatred reached its peak—his father not only treated him as nothing, but what of the Empress?
Yinreng nearly broke his own palm, when Xiong Cilu drew out another imperial decree and read it aloud—
“By Mandate of Heaven, the Emperor decrees, to the Zhasihuri Clan… Grateful for your concern for the people, for seeking out Golden Grain for their comfort, for tireless devotion to their welfare…”
“… In accordance with the wishes of the late Grand Empress Dowager and the Empress Dowager’s compassion, the establishment of the consort’s palace will follow the Empress’s rules, changing the phoenix motif to bird, in line with ancestral custom…”
The Yushi were all stunned.
Those three Golden Grain grains now so highly praised among the people were found by the Imperial Noble Consort?
Such an enormous achievement for the people, and with both the Grand Empress Dowager and Empress Dowager’s backing, even if it was an exception, they could not object.
What else could they say?
Say the Grand Empress Dowager was senile before her death?
Or that the Empress Dowager shouldn’t cherish the Imperial Noble Consort’s filial piety?
They all looked at each other, feeling His Majesty’s favoritism was excessive, but unable to voice a protest.
Suddenly, a loud and clear voice rang out, startling the officials from their daze.
“Your subject pays respects to Imperial Noble Consort Zhen—may you live a thousand years, a thousand, thousand years!”
The civil and military officials were dumbfounded.
The one who spoke was Grand Duke Tong Guogang!
Incredible.
Hadn’t the Tong Family and the Imperial Noble Consort always been at odds?
But now was not the time for shock; save for the Crown Prince, all knelt to perform two kneelings and six kowtows for Fang He.
This, too, was the etiquette reserved for the Empress—the Imperial Noble Consort was only entitled to one kneeling and three kowtows.
Even though Yinreng was seething, he had no choice but to bow to Fang He.
As she wasn’t Empress, he didn’t need to kneel, but had to bow to show respect, swallowing this only slightly less than Empress-level honor.
No one knew that in the moment of bowing, a pebble of doubt in Yinreng’s heart shattered, never to return.
Fang He had once witnessed such a breathtaking scene in the Imperial Teahouse, during the Grand Empress Dowager’s birthday and Mid-Autumn Festival.
But then, she had only been able to peek through a curtain, unable to see the full sweep of majesty.
Now, standing atop the white jade stairs, it was a wholly different spectacle.
The dense mass of humanity was like a mountain, their voices like tigers roaring in the forest, reverberating throughout the vast square.
Anyone standing here would be filled with an exhilarating sense of exaltation.
She clenched her hand unconsciously—only then realizing Kangxi had never let go.
Startled, Fang He looked up.
Kangxi stood right by her side, turning his head to smile at her.
Facing the rising sun, golden rays bathed his smooth, handsome face, making Fang He unconsciously swallow.
Well, the passion was back again.