Perhaps it was because the wine was too strong, or perhaps A wu had truly slept a long time before finally waking up, but by the time she opened her eyes, the sun was already high in the sky.
As soon as she woke, a bowl of snow frog and silver ear soup was brought to her, said to be specially ordered by His Majesty.
A wu was attended to by the nursemaid as she washed up briefly and then leaned against the couch to eat before finally getting up.
When Yilan was tidying up the bedding, she found a brocade red pouch under the pillow, tied with golden and red silk cords.
Yilan laughed, “Ah, this must be from His Majesty to the Imperial Noble Lady, a Red Envelope!”
A wu said, “Is that so?”
Weilan came over to take a look as well.
At a glance, she hurriedly said, “Yes, yes, this is a Red Envelope from His Majesty. Look, there’s even an embroidered dragon on it!”
Every year, His Majesty would prepare some of these and give them to the younger members of the royal clan; Weilan had seen them before.
A wu looked and, sure enough, it was as they said.
She picked it up and opened it, finding inside a gold ingot for auspiciousness and a pair of Little Gourds.
The Little Gourds were only the size of peas, exquisitely clear and beautiful.
She exclaimed in surprise, “There’s even a pair of gourds!”
Such tiny Little Gourds, not gold nor jade, but real gourds, grown naturally—who knows how they came to be, and they were a perfect matching pair, truly rare.
A wu liked them at once and simply had the nursemaid put them in her hair when combing.
During New Year, everyone wore Gourd Pattern Badges and various styles of gourds for good fortune.
Now, with these clever little gourds, A wu found them delightful.
Yilan and Weilan were both beaming, feeling that His Majesty truly doted on the Imperial Noble Lady, and there was hope for the future.
Yilan smiled, “I’ve never heard of His Majesty giving Red Envelopes to other consorts in previous years. His Majesty dotes on My Lady, treating you like a child.”
Hearing this, A wu thought of all the things Emperor Jingxi had done that morning.
She naturally liked and enjoyed it, but when he insisted she call him Zelang, she found it dull.
She used to call him Zelang, but later he forbade it, and she understood he thought she was unworthy.
Now, with time having passed, though he wanted her to call him that again, she was no longer willing.
All these were favors granted by the Emperor out of love, but love is the most illusory thing—today he likes you and lets you call him that, but what if tomorrow he doesn’t?
What if she gets used to calling him that and then can’t anymore?
She only wanted to be a favored concubine, climbing up slowly by relying on the Emperor’s affection.
If he lived long, she would receive more; if his favor faded or he was no longer there, she’d deal with it then.
What she didn’t know was that Emperor Jingxi, who had nearly delayed the grand ceremony that morning due to his lingering passion, was distracted for almost the entire day, nearly stepping onto the wrong stair during the sacrificial rites.
It wasn’t until evening, while taking a brief rest, that he was accompanied by the Prince of Nanfujun—a peer of similar age and an old companion from their days of study and hunting together.
Emperor Jingxi asked the Prince of Nanfujun a question, “When your wives and concubines speak to you in private, what do they call you?”
The Prince of Nanfujun was very surprised by this question, almost doubting his own ears.
Emperor Jingxi’s expression was blank as he said listlessly, “Just asking casually, that’s all. No need to answer.”
The Prince of Nanfujun suddenly understood.
The Emperor’s newly favored Imperial Noble Lady—rumor had it she was doted on to no end…
He cleared his throat and cautiously replied, “Your Majesty, my wife is always proper; she calls me Husband.”
Emperor Jingxi showed no emotion, but he was obviously waiting to hear more.
The Prince of Nanfujun continued carefully, “As for the concubines at home, they’re more casual.”
Seeing the Emperor seemed to want more detail, he awkwardly smiled, “Some call me Langjun, some call me father, some call me brother, some even call me dear—it’s all a mess, really, just for fun, nothing proper. Please forgive my candor, Your Majesty.”
Nothing proper…
Hearing this, Emperor Jingxi felt a tug at his chest, a sour ache.
That was precisely how he had judged A wu in the past.
Perhaps he vaguely realized now, but did not fully understand, that in his whole life, no matter what he did, he could never again exchange for that intimate “Zelang”.
Even a perfunctory one would do.
A wu was stubborn, holding fast to her principles, with a child’s innocence and cruelty.
***
After A wu had tidied herself, it was already late.
By custom, she should go greet the Empress Dowager, so she went to find Concubine Hui.
Concubine Hui, upon seeing the gourd in her hair, exclaimed in surprise, “Is that a reward from His Majesty?”
A wu, thinking that as fellow women of the Imperial Harem, Emperor Jingxi probably only gave it to her and not to Concubine Hui, worried that Concubine Hui might compare and feel slighted, so she replied vaguely, “I suppose so, I found it by my bedside.”
Concubine Hui burst out laughing, “He truly dotes on you, even giving you this. Such a tiny pair, I bet they’re worth five hundred taels of silver!”
A wu’s eyes widened at that, and she immediately tried to take it off, “But it’s just a gourd!”
She wasn’t mistaken, was she?
It wasn’t gold, just a gourd grown on a vine.
Concubine Hui saw her thoughts, “This is a hand-turned gourd, indeed grown on a vine, but for it to be so tiny, perfectly formed, and a matching pair—that’s rare indeed. It’s called Caolijin, and all the scholars and poets love it. Such a fine pair of Caolijin, even five hundred taels might be too little.”
A wu:”…….”
She gingerly touched the gourd in her hair, afraid it might fall—so precious, more valuable than a gold hairpin.
Seeing this, Concubine Hui couldn’t help but laugh.
She thought of Emperor Jingxi and wanted to laugh even more.
In her eyes, the Emperor was always aloof and cold, noble and unmatched, with a bearing cultivated by royal power and wealth—how could he care about money?
What could he possibly lack?
Who could have imagined that one day, his heart, hardened by years on the Court, would cherish a mere woman so much.
And even more unexpected, that woman would be so obsessed with money.
No one would have thought it, for Emperor Jingxi and A wu were nothing alike.
Concubine Hui even thought, if A wu had truly married the Imperial Son, she would have entered the palace trembling, paid her respects to Emperor Jingxi, received a reward as an elder, and left joyfully—that would have been fitting.
But now…
Forget it, it’s not for her to ponder.
So Concubine Hui and A wu went together to Changshou Hall.
Today, all the Inner and Outer Noblewomen were to gather, making Changshou Hall lively.
But women like Concubine Hui, A wu, and Lady Meng were neither fond of crowds nor of currying favor, so they simply hid together to make up the numbers.
Unexpectedly, some clever noblewomen still came over, intentionally getting close and speaking with great familiarity.
A wu guessed that word of her being exclusively favored by Emperor Jingxi had spread; those outside were shrewd, not daring to offend her, even wanting to curry favor.
But A wu was clear-headed.
Why was there no scheming among the consorts of the Great Hui Imperial Harem as in the dramas?
Because the palace rules were strict—everything was regulated, leaving no room for tricks.
In the end, one would only trap oneself.
As for why most of the Great Hui’s consorts were from common families, with only the Crown Princess and Empress coming from the Marquis Manor, and previous Empresses mostly of ordinary birth—it was because the Court didn’t want consorts meddling in politics.
As for herself, Ning Awu, once outside the palace, she knew no one and didn’t want to.
All she could do was cling to Emperor Jingxi; hiding in his embrace was her greatest achievement in life.
So A wu was polite to that noblewoman, slippery as an eel—never offending, but never getting closer either.
The noblewoman, rebuffed, smiled and walked away.
At that moment, the Empress Dowager bestowed imperial wine, specially brewed for the New Year by the Imperial Winery, each person receiving a small cup.
Everyone knelt to give thanks before raising their cups.
Who would have thought that just then, the sound of music came from outside.
Caught off guard, A wu was startled, her heart skipped a beat, and her foot slipped—she fell straight down.
The floor was soft, so it didn’t hurt, but in public, it was utterly humiliating.
What A wu didn’t expect was that her fall also pulled down a nearby nursemaid, who spilled the imperial wine she was carrying—right onto the skirt of Prince Duan’s Consort.
Concubine Hui was shocked and quickly knelt to help A wu.
A wu knew she’d caused a major blunder and dared not get up, kneeling to beg forgiveness.
In the palace, rules were strict; as long as one followed them, all was well.
But now, she had made a mistake.
She didn’t know what to do and could only hope Emperor Jingxi would help her—but he was surely busy today.
The Empress Dowager glanced over and said, “So clumsy—what do you look like?”