Concubine Jing smiled in understanding and replied, “Naturally, I’ll wait until the most exciting part is over. Otherwise, wouldn’t entering the palace once and leaving with regrets be too much?”
Fang He understood at once—she wouldn’t die, the triplets would be born safely, and things would even get wilder than they were now.
Ahem—when there were fewer people in the inner palace, things really might get livelier!
Of course, knowing herself, Fang He didn’t dare trust Concubine Jing’s words completely.
But she’d thought it through: first, though she was Imperial Noble Consort now, Consorts with sons—such as “Young Fourth” and her own—both had a shot at the throne.
Even if Prince Yin’e and Yinzhen had no animosity toward her, given Kangxi’s favor for her and her children, what future Emperor could watch with a clear conscience and not feel any jealousy?
As always, the Aisin Gioro clan’s minds were just so reliably… consistent!
Only if she became Empress, or her son got the throne, could she guarantee Jiujiu and Yin Hui a lifetime of peace.
And being the first Imperial Noble Consort in the Qing dynasty to give birth to multiples, she’d be seen as a living sign of auspiciousness.
With popular faith in spirits and omens, even if her relationship with Kangxi soured, she wouldn’t have to depend solely on his favor—she could finally be herself.
The court would have no more excuses to carp; if her sons wished to vie for the throne in future, she would have paved their road to the summit.
Second, Concubine Jing was no fool.
If Fang He died now, with Kangxi’s temperament, would the girls’ school she championed survive?
Who could say.
But since Concubine Jing was fated to die in the palace, she wouldn’t sabotage her own ally, just to languish alone.
Most importantly, Liang Madam had clearly stated she’d found the method for cesarean section.
Though not yet perfect, she was better at delivering babies than most midwives.
As long as Fang He remained conscious, Sister Liang would do all she could for a safe delivery; if she lost consciousness, there was still the option of surgery.
With Sister Liang entering the palace months in advance, and the full support of the Imperial Medical Institute to prepare a sterile environment and all surgical details—there should be no problem.
All things considered, Fang He believed the odds of a safe birth were high—so why not risk it for the best outcome?
After the other consorts left, Fang He leaned on the Empress Dowager, quietly explaining her analysis.
The Empress Dowager’s brow twitched throughout and asked, “This surgery you mention—has anyone succeeded before? What if something happens—what about the Emperor, the children, and me?”
Fang He couldn’t say it was risk-free.
She couldn’t say why, but she truly had a sense that she must witness the “excitement” Concubine Jing mentioned—or she’d regret it forever.
She looked pitifully at the Empress Dowager and pleaded, “Just trust me this once. Back in Beimeng, I survived an arrow wound; you should know that the spirits and gods protect me. And Grand Empress Dowager and my ancestors are watching from above—they wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
The Empress Dowager was left with no choice.
Upon returning to Shoukang Palace, she found Kangxi already waiting and could only shake her head in resignation.
“In the past, we all thought that girl could bend and stretch, lazy and greedy yet so afraid of death, but after all, she’s a descendant of Wulinzhu… Once she’s made up her mind, no one can sway her.”
“If only Wulinzhu hadn’t been so stubborn and insisted on returning to Shengjing while ill, perhaps she would have seen her descendants being just like her.”
Kangxi was silent for a moment, saying nothing.
He had known it for years.
Back then, when he offered Fang He boundless wealth and glory, any other woman would have seized the chance without hesitation.
Yet that stubborn girl still chose to flee the palace, even staging her own death to break free.
If she felt his love wasn’t fair, if he didn’t see her as she imagined, she would never stop making a fuss, until she got what she wanted.
Beneath that mischievous, quirky facade was perhaps a spirit as stubborn as a mule.
Returning to the sleeping palace, Kangxi saw Fang He lounging on the Luohan Couch in Zhaoren Hall, hugging her big, soft, strange pillow, eating snacks, looking utterly carefree—it made him inexplicably angry.
But when Fang He saw him, she smiled radiantly. “Emperor, come quickly—Sister Liang’s letter has arrived!”
She handed him the urgent letter.
“Someone in Jiangnan has already succeeded in performing a cesarean. If this technique becomes stable, and the Imperial Medical Institute can train a group of female doctors, maybe pregnant women across the land won’t have to cross the gates of hell so often!”
She sat up, pulling Kangxi to sit, coaxing the Emperor whose face was still dark.
“A flourishing family is a sign of a prosperous era; in the future, Your Majesty’s achievements will be recorded in bold strokes in the histories.”
“Who knows, perhaps I too will appear in those records alongside you, praised by generations—so that, in a sense, we will never be parted, in this life or any other?”
Fang He’s coaxing always worked wonders.
Kangxi’s heart softened at her words; he could no longer keep up his cold expression and unconsciously took the letter from her hand.
The letter was delivered to the palace under Zhao Chang’s name; besides Liang Madam’s handwritten note, there were detailed reports Zhao Chang had collected on several difficult births handled by Liang Madam.
Kangxi read them especially carefully.
Once finished, he didn’t even spare Fang He a few more words—he hurried off to Jingren Palace.
When it came to collections of medical books, the folk couldn’t compare to the palace.
The library of Jingren Palace contained many rare medical texts—perhaps somewhere there lay Chao Yuanfang’s lost prescriptions for expelling evil winds and poisons.
***
The twelfth month.
Naren entered the capital with Tianya Inn’s second manager Lin Chen, chef Qiao Xiaoyuan, and several core members from Jiangnan.
They stayed in the large residence Fang He had bought earlier, the deed already sent with her letters.
Liang Madam brought eight midwives and was sent into the palace, residing at the same Hall by the Imperial Medical Institute where Fang He had lived upon first entering the palace.
No sooner had they unpacked than Lu Wuning, head of the Imperial Medical Institute, cordially escorted them over.
Once Fang He heard Liang Madam had entered the palace, she was ecstatic, getting up early to return to Yanxi Palace, repeatedly sending Liu An and Chen Shun to check where everyone was.
But by midmorning, Liu An returned, looking troubled, to report.
“Master, Liang Madam and the midwives have all been taken to the Imperial Medical Institute. The Emperor himself gave the order for the Institute to fully assist Liang Madam in… the cesarean technique. Only once the exact method for expelling evil winds and poisons is settled can she come see you.”
After saying this, Liu An sneaked a glance at his master’s increasingly large belly and softly added, “Your servant ran into Li Dequan, who passed on a message from His Majesty: since you place such faith in Liang Madam’s medical skill, in due time you’ll get to see her—and she’ll help treat your head as well.”
Fang He: “….”
‘That rascal is still holding a grudge?’
The two of them saw each other every day—if he had something to say, why must he send messages through others?
And if she tried to send word to him, whether via Liang Jiugong or Li Dequan, it would end in a beating for the messenger.
He was just getting more and more childish with age.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to coax him; she’d said every nice thing she could think of, but he still wouldn’t cheer up—and with her body in this state, she couldn’t do anything else.
Fang He snorted, cradled her belly, and shuffled outside.
Cui Wei carefully helped her along and asked, “Master, are we returning to Qianqing Palace?”
Fang He said lazily, “No, I’m going to the Imperial Medical Institute. I’ll get my head fixed first before heading back. If it can’t be fixed, I’ll just stay at the Hall.”
If sweet words couldn’t cheer him up, she’d just have to try a method suited for childish schoolboys.
‘If you won’t play with me, I’ll go play with someone else.’
Cui Wei: “……”
“Ancestor, spare me! Your belly is so big already—can’t you just stay put?”
If she dared repeat this at Qianqing Palace, would she ever make it back to Yanxi Palace alive?
Fang He was amused, then nodded, “You’re right. I shouldn’t cause trouble. See how Liang Jiugong and Li Dequan avoid me like the plague—they look like they’re about to cry when they see me.”
“You’re right. How about you deliver a love letter to the Emperor for me?”
Cui Wei: “……”
‘A letter?’
***
At lunchtime, Kangxi finally looked up from the medical books and noticed Fang He still hadn’t returned.
But both Liang Jiugong and Li Dequan seemed quite at ease serving in the hall, even with faint smiles on their faces.
He snorted heavily, “What, are you happy your mistress hasn’t come back?”
Liang Jiugong bowed with a smile and replied, “How dare we, Your Majesty. Mistress went to the Imperial Medical Institute, and to keep you from worrying, she left a letter—she said not to show you until you were finished with your work.”
Kangxi raised his eyebrows and asked, “Where’s the letter?”
Liang Jiugong smiled even more mysteriously and replied, “Mistress said it’s in a place you know—she said we’re not to touch it.”
Kangxi really was a little curious now.
He’d been so worried lately that he’d rarely shown Fang He a kind face, but that rascal always patiently coaxed him, never letting her emotions show.
He’d gotten used to her soft accent and felt it helped keep her in good spirits, so it had been some time since they’d had a proper talk.
Now that Fang He wasn’t around, there was no need to keep up appearances—he strode swiftly out of Hongde Hall and made for Zhaoren Hall.
Entering the bedchamber, he didn’t need to search—the letter lay right on the chessboard on the Luohan Couch.
Kangxi walked over, and before sitting down, noticed four bold characters on the envelope.
[To Ye: A Love Letter]
Kangxi: “….”
‘That rascal…always such a smooth talker. No wonder she’d been so good at humoring people in the past!’
He pressed his lips together, suppressing a smile as he picked up the thin letter.
Realizing it was just one page, his smile faded.
He’d been wrong—this time, even her attempts to humor him were half-hearted.
He absentmindedly opened the letter, unfolded the thin paper, and was stunned at a glance.
There were no sweet words, only three bold characters—BÇŽi Suì Tú (“Hundred Years Picture”).
The calligraphy was in a mature clerical script, the outlines empty inside, with double golden borders, twisted together in patterns of dragon scales and phoenix feathers.
Inside the character for “hundred” were small, bean-sized xiaokai characters spelling out “Ye.”
The first thirty-one were only “Ye,” and from the thirty-second on, “He” appeared side by side, exactly filling the “hundred” character, while the “years” character was filled with a “mountain” radical.
Kangxi recognized it at once—it was made after the style of a “Heat Relief Picture.”
With a hundred “Ye” and “He” characters, together they perfectly composed the three characters “Hundred Years Picture.”
In the bottom right corner was a simple phrase—
“Day by day, I come to know you more; night by night, we grow old together. On Meng Po Bridge, I have no love to give—only wish to remain in the human world for you. I believe in Xuanye, and Xuanye believes in me—is that not enough?”
Kangxi’s hand trembled as he held the letter.
The frustration and bitterness he’d felt these days, due to Fang He’s stubbornness and disregard for her own safety, dissipated without him even realizing it.
He had been too attached.
Of course, he should trust her.
Wasn’t what he loved most about her that she was always true to herself?
She would never leave him, never leave Jiujiu and Er Bao to return to where she came from—a place without her family, or her… beloved.
Liang Jiugong entered and announced, “Your Majesty, Minister of War Xiong Cilu and Prince Jian request an audience…”
But Kangxi didn’t wait to hear the end.
He dashed out like a gust of wind.
“I’ve just remembered something important—let them wait!”
That rascal—don’t even think about sleeping with anyone else, not even other women!