Fang He was provoked by his boldness into a heated flush.
Though she whined, she didn’t resist, first helping him clean up simply, then facing him again…in close contact.
His faint sweat and urgent roughness only made her go weak all over.
There was nothing for it—women in their thirties truly couldn’t stand much teasing, especially after months apart.
She was just susceptible to a handsome man, that’s all.
As she was filled, she gasped and clung hard to Kangxi’s neck, still unable to resist provoking him a little.
“It’s already Shen hour—can Your Majesty really make it in time to pay respects to the Empress Dowager at Ruijing Pavilion?” Forced to rock ceaselessly in the water, her words broke into gasps.
Kangxi, though, understood the challenge in her tone.
Perhaps because they matched better with each passing year, though their pillow talk never really changed, their passion never faded.
So, whenever they got together, it always lasted.
With the bath and hair steaming, then heading to Ruijing Pavilion—by their usual pace, it’d be after the doors were locked.
There was no way Kangxi would disturb the Empress Dowager’s rest by going so late.
He looked down at the ever-youthful Fang He, his kiss on her damp brow gentler than the water around them.
“It really is a bit late. So, Guoguo, would you kindly do Us a favor?”
Fang He’s mouth was blocked, her brain a little sluggish.
She grunted a few times, and only when she realized what he’d said did she, clinging to his hand, subconsciously try to push him away.
“I—ah!” She didn’t manage to finish saying “no” before the surging water scattered her words.
Kangxi, smiling, held tight to this darling who wanted to meld into him—since he didn’t hear her refuse, naturally it was a yes.
The next instant, the waves surged and the tub shifted, splashing everywhere.
Through the screen embroidered with the Eight Steeds, one could just make out Fang He, back to Kangxi, as if riding one of the horses in the picture.
It was just like the time they faced danger together in Beimeng, sharing a horse, galloping wildly—their screams and laughter intermingled, their gasps and muffled cries making the air blush with heat.
Outside, Fue and Fuxi waited, well-practiced in serving their masters.
But compared to the ever-calm Liang Jiugong and Li Dequan, the two girls still blushed down to their necks.
Although the two masters…well, they’d seen some wild times, but seldom this intense.
This time, the mistress didn’t cry as before—she just lost her voice.
Not a sound from inside, but the scraping of the bath on the golden bricks went on without pause.
Kangxi kept his word, tiring Fang He out until she slept straight away.
He freshened up, feeling invigorated, and reached Ruijing Pavilion just at You hour, right in time for dinner.
Nine-year-old Jiujiu, dressed in a carnelian peony-patterned palace dress, stood at the door on tiptoe, peering out.
Seeing Kangxi, she ran over with a smile and saluted smartly. “Father, you’re finally back! Daughter, and all my sisters and brothers, missed you so much—look, I’ve even lost weight!”
This time, Jiujiu wasn’t lying.
She and Er Bao were both gluttons, so had always been a bit chubby, but now she’d hit a growth spurt and was noticeably thinner.
She pulled Kangxi’s hand inside, then looked back smugly and asked, “Is Mother hanging back there, not coming in? Hehe, she’s gotten fat, you know—she can’t possibly have missed you as much as I did!”
All these years, Jiujiu and Er Bao led their younger siblings in battles of wits against their mother, but when it came to tricks and cheek, their mother was always the best—they could never beat her.
Now, finally, Jiujiu had a chance to best her mother!
Kangxi entered calmly, asking without a ripple, “If you’ve gotten thinner, how could your mother have gotten fatter? Were you bullying her?”
Jiujiu blurted out her grievance: “How could I! I eat more than Mother does…”
Mid-sentence, Jiujiu froze—too late to take it back.
She just grinned sheepishly at Kangxi, quickly let go, and ran to the Empress Dowager.
Forget it, Father was always biased toward Mother anyway—she was silly to try and compete.
As Mother said: theirs was true love, the children were all accidents.
Jiujiu rather agreed.
Whether she was an accident or not was uncertain, but Er Bao and the others surely were.
The Empress Dowager saw Kangxi enter alone and understood at once, her eyes flashing a teasing smile.
“Guoguo said she wanted to have dinner with me, and that the Emperor should try that chilled milkshake as well. Has the milkshake failed, so she’s too embarrassed to come?”
A shadow of disappointment flitted across the faces of Jiujiu, Sanbao, and Fourbao.
They’d waited so long for Uncle Qiao’s milkshake recipe, and now that it had finally arrived, had it really failed?
The Imperial Kitchen was just too hopeless—it was a pity Eunuch Liu, the best at this, had left the palace with the ailing Eunuch Gu…
Er Bao and Minbao, though, looked different from Jiujiu and the rest.
One had just learned the differences between men and women and was blushing at Father and Mother’s intimacy.
The other didn’t believe Mother could fail when it came to food, and looked suspiciously at Kangxi, suspecting he’d eaten all the good things himself.
To Kangxi, the children’s thoughts, even the usually steady Er Bao, were as clear as blank paper.
He thought, true enough, he’d eaten up all the tasty things—but milkshake or not, he’d had his fill.
Kangxi knew he couldn’t fool the Empress Dowager, but with the children present, he kept a straight face and explained for Fang He.
“Wu Long Pavilion’s Concubine An and Concubine Jing are gravely ill—Guoguo was worried about them and sent people for details, she simply couldn’t make time for dinner.”
“How about tomorrow, We both come to dine with the Empress Dowager?”
The Empress Dowager raised her brows slightly, ‘Concubine An and Concubine Jing’s illnesses?’
Looks like these two children are planning to leave the capital.
After Fang He and Kangxi returned from the Hot Spring Villa, Fang He had refused all visits to Yanxi Palace with the excuse of catching a chill.
Then, three days later, Fang He, for the first time since assuming her new status, submitted a formal Zhonggong memorial to Kangxi.
The memorial, prepared according to the strictest palace rules, was carried by Liu An, now Chief Eunuch of Yanxi Palace, on a red-flagged tray, written on imperial yellow paper with the golden seal, and delivered with great ceremony to the Imperial Study after morning court.
The ministers, seeing this display from Yanxi Palace, immediately guessed—here comes another commotion from that ancestor in the harem in the dead of winter!
Over the years, the civil and military officials had all gotten used to these antics.
Even the Qin Imperial Censor and the rest waited calmly for the next news from the Imperial Kitchen.
Kangxi, half amused, received the memorial.
Fang He stated: previously, she and the other consorts had worked hard organizing the selection of the palace ladies.
After such exhaustion, and with the exceptionally cold weather that year, everyone had caught a chill.
If they stayed in the palace, it would only worsen their illnesses.
Not all consorts’ palaces had floor heating, only the main halls, and with the war just ended, if everyone started the heaters, it would cost the palace a fortune.
She requested to take the consorts to the Hot Spring Villa for recuperation and return when fully recovered.
Kangxi could only be “helpless”.
After inquiring about the repairs at the Hot Spring Villa with the Imperial Household Department, he openly moved Fang He into Qianqing Palace, then sent the other consorts to the villa to rest.
Normally, after the New Year, the consorts should stay in the palace and not go out again.
But after the New Year, many of the consorts were weak, and the fifteen days of palace banquets left many sick again.
Kangxi could only once more “helplessly” let them go recuperate.
Afterwards, when Kangxi went to campaign, the consorts who had “prayed” and “worried” excessively for his safety, suddenly, some fell gravely ill.
The first wasn’t Concubine An or Concubine Jing, but Noble Lady Xuan, who’d spent years in Xianfu Palace without presence.
Fang He immediately sent Lu Yuanpan from the Imperial Medical Institute to see her.
Once it was confirmed she was beyond help, she was moved to Wu Long Pavilion.
By the time Kangxi received Zhao Chang’s report en route, Noble Lady Xuan was already on her way, incognito, back to Beimeng.
Concubine An and Concubine Jing “fell seriously ill” on his way home.
Fang He wanted to tell Kangxi that she’d already moved Concubine An and Concubine Jing to Wu Long Pavilion.
Other consorts without family, or those whose families were best left behind, had also decided to leave the palace and start new lives elsewhere.
Truth be told, when the consorts at the Hot Spring Villa learned they could leave Wu Long Pavilion, many couldn’t help but cry.
They’d always known, sooner or later, their fate was Wu Long Pavilion.
Then, from Wu Long Pavilion, on to the Ji’an Office, and eventually, to become a handful of dust in the Imperial Mausoleum.
But now, the place that had once filled them with dread and despair had become the hope of a new life.
Their years of numbness faded, and only then did they realize how agonizing life in the palace had been.
Even Consort Hui, Consort Rong, Consort Yi—those with children who would never choose to die and leave the capital—knew they could one day retire to their children’s residences.
The last traces of jealousy and bitterness toward Fang He in their hearts faded away.
Even Consort Yi understood—they could never be Fang He.
They didn’t have her resolve, nor could they do what she did.
That’s why an unfeeling Emperor could fall in love with a woman like Fang He.
Even the Empress Dowager, thinking of it now, felt a flicker of excitement.
She was only fifty-seven—if she could leave the palace, perhaps she could travel and see the beautiful rivers and mountains Wulinzhu Dowager always wanted to visit.
The Empress Dowager smiled at Kangxi, probing, “Dinner isn’t urgent—but this year, the palace feels so quiet, I don’t feel well. What do you think, Emperor, if I went to the Hot Spring Villa to recuperate for a while?”
“Hmm?”
Jiujiu, Sanbao, Fourbao—even Er Bao and Minbao—all five pairs of bright eyes fixed on Kangxi.
To be honest, they weren’t sick, but… to leave the palace and have fun!
They wanted that too!
Kangxi’s temples throbbed—he thought…he’d gone too easy on that scoundrel!
“We also…” Jiujiu, Sanbao, and Fourbao spoke in unison, and Er Bao and Minbao opened their mouths.
“No, you don’t!” He cut them off at once, face impassive.
Jiujiu puffed out her cheeks, her eyes rolling a few times, her composure as a young lady on the verge of collapse—clearly about to start fussing.
The Empress Dowager stifled a laugh, cleared her throat, picked up her tea, and leisurely watched Jiujiu and her siblings pester the Emperor.
Now, should she go to Jiangnan first, or make a trip back to Beimeng?