Kangxi’s heart remained untouched by Concubine De’s words, a still lake unrippled by the breeze.
Perhaps he had grown accustomed to a certain scoundrel’s brazen, unselfconscious wailing, devoid of any regard for beauty or decorum.
He had come to understand that when a woman was truly heartbroken, her cries were never so delicate, so artfully poignant, or so softly mournful.
Concubine De’s tears, though, were no surprise.
Before him, Uya-shi always knew how to display her tender maternal heart, her flawless perfection.
He had learned a bitter truth: no one was without flaws.
The virtues he once cherished in his consorts, even his ministers, were little more than performances crafted to please their emperor.
They were not, as he had once hoped, a blend of truth and pretense but rather a calculated deception.
His gaze settled on Concubine De, cool and detached, as he spoke evenly, “You need not concern yourself with Galudai and Wuxia any longer. Their mother will no longer be you.”
A pause, then a flicker of scorn flashed in his eyes.
“As for Yinzhen, I’ll have his jade tablet amended. They will not have a mother like you.”
Concubine De’s body went limp, and she sank back onto her knees, her face ashen, tears streaming with renewed ferocity in her disbelief.
“Your Majesty… what wrong has your concubine committed to deserve such cruelty?”
Kangxi flung the memorial at her face, unwilling to stomach her tearful, pear-blossom fragility.
“Spying on the emperor’s movements, plotting against the imperial heirs, deceiving your lord, and silencing dissent with murder—what is there that you, Uya-shi, would not dare to do?”
His expression grew colder with each word, his voice icing over.
“Were it not for the sake of Yinzhen and the others’ dignity, I would have your head this very moment!”
Concubine De, dazed and broken, frantically wiped her tears, trembling hands picking up the memorial.
As she read, the self-mockery on her face deepened, and by the end, a desolate laugh broke free.
Wiping away the tears that came with her bitter mirth, her voice was raw with sorrow.
“Your Majesty, I have served you for years—does that count for nothing in your heart?”
Her tears fell again, a cascade of despair.
“Even if I were skilled at deception, could I have fooled you for over a decade without a single misstep? If I had such cunning, how could Yinzuo have died so senselessly? I only wish I could have gone with him…”
She collapsed, sobbing, her forehead pressed to the floor.
“If you want my life, be it a cup of poison or a length of white silk, I would never defy your command. Why must you humiliate me with baseless accusations, Your Majesty?”
Behind the screen, Fang He nodded approvingly.
Much as she disliked Concubine De, she had to give her credit this time.
The pinnacle of manipulation was this: when others spoke of reason, you countered with emotion.
And now, surely, Concubine De would pivot to reason…
Fang He rubbed her fingers together, casting a longing glance at Li Dequan, wishing she had a handful of melon seeds to nibble on.
Li Dequan, misreading her look, quietly replaced her tea with a cooling brew.
Fang He: “…”
If only Kangxi hadn’t kept this matter hushed, Cui Wei could have been here, and how much more entertaining this would have been!
Outside, as expected, Kangxi followed Concubine De’s rhythm, his voice dripping with scorn as he mocked her talk of affection.
“You dare speak of affection? Were it not for my favor, which allowed you to stir chaos in the harem, would Yinzuo have been born so frail, dying so young?”
“Having a venomous mother like you was his greatest misfortune! My deepest regret is believing in your laughable facade of maternal love!”
Fang He smacked her lips, nodding.
Kangxi, as always, saw things clearly.
Yet such issues were hardly unique, even in later ages.
The titans who ruled the world with unmatched prowess often stumbled in their personal affairs.
Handling family matters well was a rare art, mastered by few.
Concubine De, sobbing, shook her head.
“If I were truly so cruel, why would I have plunged into icy waters in the dead of winter to save Brother Yinqi? Perhaps I should have died from that fever, and Yinzuo would not have been born frail, nor would my little seventh daughter have perished after barely a month…”
Fang He translated: ‘Yinzuo’s frailty and the seventh princess’s death were because I risked my life to save your son. Use your brain, Your Majesty’
“When I served in the Empress Dowager’s palace, my admiration for you grew daily, despite the endless ridicule I endured from her. You were consumed with state affairs, and I dared not trouble you. Had my life not been at stake, my family would never have pulled strings to send someone into the palace to protect me…”
Fang He’s translation: ‘I loved you beyond reason, but your cousin tried to kill me. I couldn’t bear to burden you, so I had to protect myself. Is that a crime?’
Concubine De, trembling, placed the memorial on the ground, her forehead touching the cold tiles as she wept aloud.
“I never imagined my family could commit such wrongs. Had I known, I would have stopped them, even at the cost of my life, and Yinzuo’s blessings would not have been stolen, nor would he have left us so soon…”
“If you doubt me, send every servant in Yonghe Palace to the Censorate for interrogation. If I have erred in the slightest, I will atone with my death.”
Her voice, stripped of its usual gentleness, was sharp with anguish, stirring pity in those who heard.
“Had I not walked the edge of death in this palace, striving only to bear your heirs, I would not have been so ignorant of the world outside, nor would my family have harbored such misguided ambitions…”
Fang He sipped her tea, thinking: ‘I’m pure and innocent, Your Majesty. It’s all someone else’s fault—I knew nothing!’
Concubine De’s blend of emotion and reason was masterful, and her confidence in avoiding scrutiny spoke volumes about her control over her household—something Kangxi could stand to learn from.
As for Yinzuo…
Seeing Kangxi fall silent, seemingly inclined to investigate further, Fang He felt no disappointment.
Men, she mused, were all the same—reluctant to admit they’d been thoroughly deceived, lest it reveal their past foolishness.
Kangxi was a formidable ruler, but in matters of women…
Well, his many children and their high mortality spoke for themselves.
Her thoughts stirred, and she beckoned Li Dequan, gesturing for paper and ink.
Kangxi, meanwhile, recalled that winter long ago.
Yinqi, neglected by careless attendants, had fallen into icy waters while playing.
Uya-shi, passing by, had jumped in without hesitation to save him, only to fall gravely ill with fever for days, deemed unlikely to survive by the physicians.
Months later, she conceived Yinzuo.
Back then, Uya-shi must have had some genuine kindness.
But Kangxi knew too well how power corrupted.
Once she tasted authority, her innocence likely vanished.
Her claims of love, her supposed ignorance of her family’s schemes—he believed not a word.
Fang He was right: a woman truly devoted to him could not maintain such consistent goodwill toward all his consorts for over a decade.
Yet, thinking of Yinzuo and the lost seventh princess, the ice in his gaze softened, and he lost the will to press Concubine De further.
She had limited contact with the outside world, and the palace’s strict rules against unauthorized correspondence gave him some confidence.
Uya-shi’s actions, and those of the Liu and Ma families, likely relied on her status as a favored consort.
Initially, Kangxi had planned to demote Concubine De to a common concubine, banish her to a remote palace, and suppress the scandal.
Now, he reconsidered.
How to deal with her, deter the harem, and preserve the dignity of Yinzhen, Galudai, and Wuxia required careful thought.
Just as he was about to dismiss Concubine De, Li Dequan emerged from behind the screen, head bowed, presenting a sheet of paper.
Liang Jiugong laid it on the imperial desk, and Kangxi’s eyes darkened as he read.
Fang He had written three pointed questions:
“Concubine De receives 100,000 taels of silver annually from the Uya clan—all from your treasury. Did she never once question where such wealth came from? Where is the silver now?”
“Even if ignorant of external affairs, Uya-shi arranged for people to enter the palace to facilitate her schemes. If she truly loved you, could she bear watching other consorts and their children gain your favor while the Empress Dowager tormented her?”
“If you hadn’t uncovered this, would she eventually use her family’s influence to sow discord between the Crown Prince and the princes, stirring chaos in the court?”
The tension between the Crown Prince and Yinti, fueled by the machinations of the bonded clans, was something Kangxi hadn’t mentioned to Fang He.
Yet her insight pierced the heart of his concerns—silver, heirs, and imperial power—exposing the questions Concubine De had deftly sidestepped.
His softened heart hardened once more.
His gaze turned icy as he fixed it on the still-weeping Concubine De.
“Uya-shi, you claim ignorance and beg for leniency based on years of affection. Do you dare say the eighth princess’s death had nothing to do with you?”
As for the silver, a raid on Yonghe Palace would reveal its fate.
Whether she knew or not, her threat to court stability meant she could not remain.
“Since you speak of poison or white silk, I’ll grant your wish. If you have even a shred of care for Yinzhen, Galudai, and Wuxia, you would not stand here spinning lies!”
Concubine De’s eyes flicked toward the screen, a glint of cold hatred passing through them.
Though unaware of who hid there, she instinctively suspected Concubine Zhao.
Without that meddler, she could have leaned on past affection to quell Kangxi’s wrath, buying time to shift blame to Concubine Rong and the Ma clan, sacrificing pawns to save herself and her family.
Now…
Her body swayed, and she clutched her stomach, her expression twisting into one of stark despair.
“Your Majesty! I swore before the ancestors, in my life and my clan’s, that I had no part in the eighth princess’s death. It was the Empress Dowager framing me for Yinzhen’s sake!”
“If I ever touched the eighth princess, may I and the child in my womb meet a wretched end!”
The truth was, she hadn’t directly tampered with the Empress Dowager’s childbirth.
She never dirtied her own hands—someone like Tong Jia, obsessed with love, wasn’t worth it.
Both Kangxi and Fang He froze at her words.
‘The child in her womb?’
Fang He’s face darkened, her eyes darting to Kangxi, who frowned and asked, “You’re pregnant?”
Concubine De’s sobs lost all trace of elegance, raw and unrestrained, eerily reminiscent of Fang He’s own unrestrained crying.
Fang He’s expression grew colder still.
“I only learned of it while confined in Wanfangzia hall. I didn’t intend to use this pregnancy to gain your pity. If you insist on my death, I beg you to let me bear this child first!”
In her panic, she seemed to lose all composure.
“I didn’t do it, I swear! If you don’t believe me, ask Zhang Jia-shi! She’s three months pregnant, and if not for my protection, her child would have been lost long ago… My love for you is unwavering—how could I harm your heirs, Your Majesty?”
Fang He’s heart sank, like the final gavel at an auction where she wasn’t the winner.
Kangxi summoned Liang Jiugong to fetch Zhang Jia-shi, along with the imperial physicians and Lu Wuning.
Fang He sat calmly behind the screen, her gaze steady as Kangxi glanced her way, silent as if she weren’t there.
When Zhang Jia-shi arrived, flustered, the physicians and Lu confirmed her pregnancy of over three months.
They then examined Concubine De, who had nearly fainted from crying, and confirmed she, too, was nearly three months pregnant.
Fang He’s lips curled into a cold smile.
‘Well played.’
No wonder Concubine De remained composed from the moment Fang He moved against her to the handling of the bonded clans.
She’d known she held a trump card—two, in fact.
Kangxi listened, expressionless, as Zhang Jia-shi quietly pleaded for Concubine De.
After a long pause, he spoke coldly.
“Liang Jiugong, move Zhang Jia-shi to Xianfu Palace. Concubine De is confined to Yonghe Palace. Send all Yonghe Palace servants to the Censorate for rigorous interrogation. No one enters or leaves Xianfu or Yonghe Palace without my decree.”
Liang Jiugong stole a glance at the screen, cautiously complying, and had the unconscious Concubine De and pale-faced Zhang Jia-shi escorted away.
Moments later, Fang He, composure regained, emerged from behind the screen with a serene expression.
Kangxi sighed, looking up at her.
“Zhao, I…”
“No need to explain, Your Majesty,” Fang He said with a gentle smile, softer even than Concubine De’s upon entering Qianqing Palace.
“I understand. You spared Concubine De for the sake of your heirs and to accumulate merit for the ancestors.”
Kangxi’s brow furrowed slightly, and he pulled her to sit beside him on the arhat couch.
“I won’t spare her. The palace cannot harbor a woman with such a venomous heart, stirring chaos in the harem.”
As for Concubine De using Zhang Jia-shi to prove her innocence in the eighth princess’s death, Kangxi was no fool, nor was the Empress Dowager blind to truth.
True, it was a palace maid from Chengqian Palace who tampered with the birth, but that maid had once served alongside Uya-shi under Tong Jia.
Her beauty had caught Kangxi’s eye a few too many times, and for that, Tong Jia had her face scarred and banished to tend the flowers in Chengqian Palace’s garden.
With Uya-shi’s cunning, it would have been no difficult task to stoke the embers of old resentment in that maid’s heart, using their past bond to secure her cooperation.
What’s more, the maid had once produced evidence of Uya-shi’s facilitation, though the matter was hushed up.Â