The seventh princess’s death bore faint ties to the Empress Dowager, and for the sake of palace harmony, the Empress Dowager had suppressed it.
“Now, with the Empress Dowager’s health failing, a joyful announcement might lift her spirits. I dare not act rashly at such a time, lest I diminish her blessings,” Kangxi explained patiently to Fang He.
“Once Concubine De bears her child, I’ll send her to a family temple to live out her days with a solitary lamp and ancient Buddha, atoning for her sins. Even if… something were to happen to me, I’ll leave a decree ensuring Uya-shi never sets foot in the Forbidden City again.”
Fang He shot him a playful, reproving glance.
“Oh, hush, Your Majesty! Don’t speak such inauspicious nonsense—I can’t bear to hear it.”
Kangxi had deliberately mentioned his mortality, wary that this fiery woman might be upset by the sudden turmoil.
Though she appeared unusually docile, an inexplicable unease gnawed at him, a faint tremor of apprehension.
He studied her eyes, sparkling with a gentle smile, and seeing no trace of resentment, he quietly exhaled in relief.
Yet a strange realization struck him: when had he begun to tread so cautiously around this woman?
The thought brought a wry, almost exasperated chuckle to his heart.
Perhaps Uya-shi’s treachery had made him overly suspicious of the harem.
He drew Fang He close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead with a quiet sigh.
“I spend more time with you than anyone, yet why is there no good news from you?”
Concubine De’s pregnancy, and even Zhang Jia-shi’s, brought him only headaches, not a shred of paternal joy—only regret.
Yanxi Palace was nearly renovated, its main hall crafted with the finest timber, refurbished inside and out.
He had prepared it for the day Fang He bore him a child, ready for her to move into its grandeur.
Fang He’s smile didn’t waver as she hummed lightly.
“Perhaps the feng shui of Tousuo Hall and Qianqing Palace pales compared to Yonghe Palace. One after another, those who enter Yonghe seem blessed with fortune.”
Her words carried a hint of acid, and Kangxi, laughing, tapped her forehead.
“Then the one I should move to Yonghe Palace is you.”
Fang He covered her head, smiling silently.
‘No thanks, I’d rather not.’
Kangxi, just returned to the palace, had state affairs awaiting and didn’t keep her long, sending her back to Tousuo Hall.
On her way, Fang He’s expression remained serene, a faint smile lingering.
Cui Wei and Wei Zhu, waiting at the entrance, caught the glint in her eyes, their own sparkling with anticipation.
Inside the hall, Cui Wei couldn’t contain herself.
“Mistress, is it Concubine De—”
“Crash!”
Fang He hurled a teacup against the wall, shattering it into pieces.
The sound startled Cui Wei, Wei Zhu, and Fule, who dropped to their knees.
Chunlai, guarding the door, jumped and quickly ordered Chen Shun and Liu An to stand watch outside, ensuring no one overheard, especially from Cining Palace or beyond.
“Bring me scissors,” Fang He said, her smile intact as she calmly began unfastening her qipao.
Cui Wei and Wei Zhu understood instantly: Concubine De had slipped away again.
Cui Wei hesitated, fearing Fang He might harm herself, but Wei Zhu, unwavering, swiftly retrieved the scissors from a sewing basket and presented them to her.
He trusted his “sister” not to endanger herself.
She was furious, and she needed to vent.
Sure enough, under the watchful eyes of Cui Wei, Wei Zhu, and Fule, Fang He methodically shredded the qipao, shoes, and handkerchief that had touched Qianqing Palace, her face expressionless.
“Bring the brazier!” she ordered coldly.
Cui Wei sprang into action, fetching a copper basin and lighting it with a fire starter, helping Fang He burn the fine fabrics as flames devoured them.
The fire grew, but the inferno in Fang He’s heart blazed hotter.
From the moment Concubine De revealed her pregnancy, an unexpected fury had erupted within her, catching even herself off guard.
Kangxi’s order to summon Zhang Jia-shi, the physicians’ congratulations, and his look of helpless regret had fanned her rage into a wildfire.
She understood now: the trust she’d placed in him, that wretched man had betrayed.
His words were pretty—promising not to spare Concubine De—but she saw through them.
Concubine De’s child would live, basking in lifelong favor.
If Concubine De went quietly to the temple, she’d live comfortably.
But would Concubine De ever sit idly by?
‘Hah.’
Men, especially in this era, underestimated women, and it sickened her.
Fang He smashed another teacup to the floor, dissatisfied with its fragments, and grabbed a flowerpot base to pound it further.
‘Damn it!’
Was she sent to this palace to endure some cosmic tribulation?
“Mistress…” Fule, braver than the stunned Cui Wei and Wei Zhu, stepped forward, taking the pot base.
“Let me. You mustn’t harm yourself—anger hurts the body, and any injury would be hard to explain.”
Exhausted from her outburst, Fang He stood, only to feel a wave of dizziness.
Cui Wei rushed to steady her.
“What’s wrong with me?” Fang He asked, voice steady despite her turmoil.
She’d known entering the palace was a journey as arduous as fetching scriptures from the West.
She’d faced worse in her past life and never let useless emotions rule her, always choosing the most advantageous path.
But today, her anger had overwhelmed her.
Fule hesitated, then whispered, “You missed your cycle this month. Your pulse isn’t clear yet, but your cycles are always regular…”
Fang He’s eyes widened.
‘What, is the Forbidden City mass-producing heirs now?’
Her fury surged, a throbbing pain pulsing in her head.
Concubine De, emboldened by her pregnancy, had struck at her repeatedly.
Even in a temple, she’d live in comfort, still stirring trouble through her child, her spies, or some other vile means, endangering Fang He and her own unborn child.
All her efforts had failed to subdue anyone—others would bully her as they pleased, now with her child in the crosshairs.
Fule dropped the pot base, washed his hands, and gently massaged Fang He’s aching temples.
“Since we noticed your cycle was late, I’ve added fetal-protective herbs to your meals, slightly warming ones. Rest a moment, and I’ll acupuncture to ease the heat.”
Fang He nodded, realizing why her anger had flared so fiercely, nearly breaking her composure before Kangxi.
As Fule inserted gold needles into her back, the slight swelling and soreness calmed her.
Her wavering gaze steadied.
She couldn’t wait any longer.
Kangxi was unreliable, the Empress Dowager wouldn’t help with matters of imperial heirs, and Empress Dowager Xiaozhuang was even less likely to intervene.
But Fang He wouldn’t stand by while Concubine De bore her child—likely the fourteenth prince.
Could she trust Kangxi to deal harshly with the mother of two princes?
No, she’d sooner believe pigs could climb trees.
After Fule removed the needles, Fang He changed into fresh clothes and sat calmly at the table, eating a hearty lunch.
Afterward, she fixed her gaze on Chunlai.
“What I’m about to say, you must not hear a word of. Ensure no one eavesdrops—can you do that?”
Chunlai paused, then knelt decisively and replied, “I can.”
The emperor himself had ordered her loyalty to Consort Zhao, permitting her to withhold information.
Curiosity didn’t drive her; she knew her choice.
Fang He nodded, inwardly scoffing.
‘See? Every woman in this palace is more reliable than a man.’
If she trusted Kangxi again, she’d be brain-dead.
Half an hour later, as Fang He grew drowsy, Chunlai tapped the window lattice, moving to guard Tousuo Hall’s entrance.
Fang He turned to Wei Zhu.
“Avoid notice, but not entirely. Find Uncle, and tell him to do the same—bribe the Imperial Household Department to make things difficult for Yonghe Palace. You understand?”
Wei Zhu, sharp as ever, nodded.
“I understand. Make it seem like we’re acting covertly, but let the right people notice.”
He lowered his voice and asked, “But, Mistress, do you want the emperor to find out, or…?”
“No, I want the harem to notice—to grow curious.” Fang He raised an eyebrow, then looked to Cui Wei.
“After Wei Zhu handles this, send messages to Chengqian, Yongshou, Zhongcui, Changchun, and Yikun Palaces… oh, and to Consort Tongjia and Nala-guaren.”
Cui Wei leaned in, listening as Fang He whispered.
Her eyes widened with each word, and by the end, her legs buckled, and she knelt.
“Mistress… if this is discovered or escalates, and the Empress Dowager or His Majesty learn of it, even the Empress can’t protect you.”
Even with a pregnancy, plotting against an imperial heir would leave no turning back.
If Concubine De could be caught, Fang He’s exposure would be catastrophic.
Cui Wei couldn’t bear to imagine her mistress’s future.
Wei Zhu, frowning, cut in before Fang He could respond.
“Cui Wei, how long have you been in the palace, yet you’re still so naive? She uses others to kill; why can’t our mistress do the same? She has her trump card, and so do we. Why should we let her trample us?”
“If we don’t act, she’ll harm our mistress and the little master someday. Since when is fighting back in this palace a crime?”
Cui Wei faltered, biting her lip, but persisted.
“I don’t mean that, but why not wait until your child is born? This involves the Imperial Household and the court, maybe even the Crown Prince. His Majesty won’t be lenient.”
“If this traces back to you, forget His Majesty—the harem’s consorts aren’t to be trifled with. If they use this against you later, you’ll have no choice. Even if you help them now, when it’s time to be ruthless, not one will hesitate.”
Fang He propped her head, listening patiently with a lazy air, then chuckled softly.
“Cui Wei, in your heart, I’m still that old Fang He, aren’t I?”
Though she was now utterly unlike the timid, silent girl of years past, Cui Wei and Wei Zhu hadn’t forgotten those quiet decades.
Her laughter trembled through her, light as a breeze rustling leaves.
“But I must tell you both, I’ve never claimed to be a good person.”
“From the moment she set her sights on my life, I vowed to leave no loose ends. I have no intention of turning back.”
Her gaze shimmered with a serene, almost chilling smile.
“I considered sparing her, but someone out there isn’t giving her that chance. An eye for an eye is too lenient for me. I want the world to know that for even a drop of enmity, I’ll repay it with a gushing spring. Let them weigh the cost before they dare scheme against my child.”
“As long as my child is safe, I’ll bear any consequences.”
Threaten her?
In their dreams.
She had no illusions of keeping this from Kangxi forever—nor could she.
If the emperor wouldn’t deliver justice, she’d claim it herself.
If it meant a temple exile, at least she’d find peace there.
As for sins?
She’d been stained since the days she plotted against Ruyue and Baimin.
The worst outcome was death, but inaction would only hasten it.
Had she not been carrying a child, she might have played the long game, tormenting Kangxi with subtle ploys, weaving her way to the Empress Dowager and Xiaozhuang, wearing him down until he had no choice but to deal with Concubine De.
But now… her gaze softened, resting on her belly, where a tiny life, bound to her by blood, might already be growing.
For it, she’d dare anything.
The names on those papers she’d noted—from the Imperial Consort to the Noble Consort and the other three consorts—none had escaped her scrutiny.
Chengqian Palace might as well be Yonghe Palace’s annex.
Beyond the eighth princess’s death tied to Concubine De, Qiao Cheng had gleaned shocking revelations from Qin Zicheng.
The Uya clan, under the guise of palace procurement, had brought in vibrant poinsettias.
Fang He had consulted Fule: poinsettias were harmless on the surface, but their milky sap, once broken, carried mild toxins.
Contact followed by rich foods could induce vomiting and diarrhea—negligible for adults, but for children, prolonged exposure could damage vital organs.
Qin Zicheng, informed by his mother, Uya Liuniu, claimed it was for self-preservation.
Qin Xinrong had mentioned that the Imperial Medical Bureau prescribed “peace prescriptions” for many consorts, including stimulating strychnine and purgative pokeweed.
Even processed, these herbs could weaken the body and, during pregnancy, harm the fetus.
If Cui Wei recalled correctly, Yinqi was born frail, and after falling into water, he died of “chills” and diarrhea.
Consort Tong’s little princess, while in Chengqian Palace, constantly spat up milk and suffered diarrhea, only improving after returning to Zhongcui Palace.
Perhaps the target wasn’t the princess—Tong Jia’s health had always been poor.
When Yongshou Palace’s little princess died, the Noble Consort was convinced someone had murdered her child but found no proof and let it go.
Coincidentally, the nursemaid serving that princess was sent into the palace by the Liu clan.
Whether she acted against the child was for the Noble Consort to investigate.
As for Concubine Rong, Fang He didn’t know the details of her earlier-born prince, but Concubine De’s scheme to drag the Liu and Ma clans down with her was something Concubine Rong deserved to know.
Concubine Yi had been kind to Fang He, and in return, Fang He would hint at Yinzhi’s frailty—whether Yikun Palace had poinsettias or if Concubine Yi had taken the peace prescriptions.
Cui Wei, unable to resist her mistress, was swayed by Fang He and Wei Zhu.
They couldn’t let Concubine De catch her breath or stir trouble again.
Concubine De had years in the palace—how many hidden pawns she’d planted, no one could say.
One misstep, and Fang He, along with all of Tousuo Hall’s servants, could pay with their lives.
***
After Mid-Autumn and before the Gold-Bestowing Festival, a string of deaths—palace maids and eunuchs—swept through Chengqian, Yongshou, Zhongcui, Changchun, and Yikun Palaces.
The unusual activity didn’t escape Kangxi, who summoned Zhao Chang at once.
“What’s going on?”
If he recalled correctly, some of the dead were spies planted by the bonded clans, while others remained untraced.
Zhao Chang, shaken, knelt.
“Your Majesty, this servant is unclear. The secret guards investigated, and the Imperial Household Department sent men. Each palace provided plausible explanations, with witnesses and evidence, but… they won’t hold up under scrutiny. We’d need to interrogate the ladies’ close attendants to know the truth.”
Kangxi’s brow furrowed.
Such a move would be too loud, implicating the mothers of most of his princes.
He couldn’t ignore his sons, even if he cared little for the harem’s women.
An ominous premonition stirred, and his voice grew cold.
“I grant you the Heaven-Class Order. Investigate discreetly, without alarming the palaces, and report to me.”
After a pause, he added faintly, “Include Cining Palace, Shoukang Palace, and Tousuo Hall.”
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