At the end of August, Fule confirmed that Fang He was a little over a month pregnant.
Only Wei Zhu, Cui Wei, Chunlai, and Fule were privy to the news, and their hearts swelled with joy for her.
Cui Wei, bubbling with excitement, even began chattering about how to rearrange the main hall of Yanhui Palace to suit their lady’s new circumstances.
In just two months, it would mark a year since Fang He’s elevation to concubine status, and lingering in the modest Tousuo Hall hardly seemed fitting anymore.
Yet Fang He had no intention of revealing her pregnancy so soon.
When it came to the precious life growing within her, her caution matched that of any mother in the world.
She instructed her trusted few to keep silent until three months had passed.
Wei Zhu and Cui Wei saw the wisdom in her caution and took care to warn Xinke and Chen Shun to hold their tongues and avoid prying.
Though everyone in the hall harbored their own guesses, they dared only to share secret smiles, not a single word slipping from their lips.
Still, Cui Wei fretted.
“It’s easy enough to keep it from others, but if His Majesty comes…”
Her voice trailed off, worry creasing her brow.
“In your condition, my lady, you mustn’t exert yourself!”
She recalled the times their mistress’s cries had echoed through the hall, so fierce that even Fule grew concerned.
With as much tact as she could muster, Fule ventured a suggestion.
“Perhaps this servant could speak to you about the benefits of… mutual affection…”Â
Fang He couldn’t help but laugh, waving off the idea.
“No need. I’ve no use for that.”
The fire of her temper, which had flared so fiercely before, had vanished the moment she learned of her child.
Not a spark remained.
Men?
They were nothing to her.
She’d never invested much trust in them to begin with—like lending money, she’d always prepared for the possibility it wouldn’t be repaid.
Anger only served to amuse others and harm her precious babe.
She wasn’t about to make such a foolish bargain.Â
And so, she decided she was done playing the dutiful consort.
Though the servants of Tousuo Hall never spoke of the emperor’s visits to other concubines in her presence, Fang He was no fool.
She knew Kangxi maintained his disciplined routine—three days of work, two of rest.
In the past, she hadn’t cared, nor had she wanted to hear about her “employer’s” trivial affairs.
But from mid-August, she ordered Cui Wei and Wei Zhu to report every detail of the emperor’s movements.
Whether he lingered a moment too long with a concubine in Cining Palace, exchanged extra words with a maid in Qianqing Palace, or passed a lowly attendant in the Imperial Garden—she wanted to know it all.Â
“And if he so much as crosses paths with a female mosquito,” she declared, “you’d better tell me the moment you see it!”
“If His Majesty comes by day, say I’m resting. If it’s at night, lock the palace gates and douse the lanterns.”
Cui Wei and Wei Zhu exchanged incredulous glances.
Was their mistress… jealous?
Fang He, considering the endless intrigues of the harem, decided to weave precaution into her daily life.
“Tell Chen Shun and Liu An to fetch a few jars of vinegar and white wine from the kitchen. Keep an eye on His Majesty’s movements. The moment his entourage shows signs of heading this way, set up a vinegar pot right inside Tousuo Hall’s gates.”
Even Chunlai fell silent at this.
Jealousy?
Hardly.
Their mistress wasn’t merely envious—she was turning Tousuo Hall into a veritable vinegar vat.
As it happened, after the Mid-Autumn Festival, Kangxi was preoccupied with preparations for the Grand Empress Dowager’s birthday, visiting Cining Palace daily.
The Imperial Garden bloomed with longevity flowers, a surprise for the occasion, and he checked on their progress every few days.
The concubines, seizing the opportunity, flocked to the garden in the mild autumn weather, their beauty rivaling the blossoms, their laughter and chatter filling the air like songbirds.
In stark contrast, Tousuo Hall sank into an eerie silence that drew the palace’s curious gazes.
Liang Jiugong, the emperor’s chief eunuch, visited several times, only to be greeted by the sharp tang of vinegar or barred from entry by darkened gates and unlit lanterns.
By his third wary report to the emperor, Kangxi’s face broke into a faint, knowing smile.
That day, pressed by state affairs, Kangxi hadn’t lingered long with Fang He in Qianqing Palace.
Only in the quiet of night did he realize he could have delayed his ministers without issue.
Yet something in him recoiled from seeing Fang He’s overly understanding, gentle demeanor.
He knew full well that her sharp, petty nature would flare at such slights.Â
Concubine De had threatened her life, and Fang He, who held grudges over something as small as a missed dish, wouldn’t easily forget a life-and-death vendetta.
But as emperor, with royal heirs tied to the stability of the realm, he couldn’t act against Uya-shi while she carried his child.
Duty outweighed all else.Â
He felt no guilt, yet a nagging unease and a touch of helplessness gnawed at him.
Learning of Fang He’s ostentatious display of “jealousy,” Kangxi couldn’t help but chuckle, relief washing over him.Â
“Let her be,” he told Liang Jiugong with a smile.
“Instruct the Imperial Household Department to serve her carefully.”
A bit of jealousy wasn’t a bad thing—it proved, at least, that she cared.
Though Kangxi stopped visiting Tousuo Hall, he ensured rare treasures were sent to Yanhui Palace’s main hall and gifts flowed to Fang He with unbroken frequency.
Soon, not only Liang Jiugong but even the Grand Empress Dowager, the Empress Dowager, and the other concubines were left puzzled by the pair’s strange dance.Â
The Grand Empress Dowager, unwell of late, had no energy to inquire.
The Empress Dowager, concerned, remained by her side in Cining Palace.
As for the concubines, they’d grown accustomed to the spectacle.
Even the sharp-tongued Concubine Xi, who loved stirring trouble, avoided Fang He during her visits to Cining Palace, not daring to utter a word.
The lower-ranking concubines felt it even more keenly—no matter how the emperor and Consort Zhao tangled, her fall from favor seemed an impossible dream.
***
“This servant believes that to uncover the truth of this matter, we must start with Concubine Tongjia of Chengqian Palace and Concubine Niuhulu of Yongshou Palace,” Zhao Chang suggested.
“Take them to the Department of Punishment for interrogation by the shadow guards, and no secret will remain hidden.”
Kangxi’s eyes sharpened, his voice cutting through the air.
“No movement from Tousuo Hall?”
Zhao Chang faltered briefly before responding, “Your Majesty, aside from brewing vinegar daily and occasionally wiping down the hall with white wine and water, inside and out, there’s been no other activity.”
Kangxi’s expression remained unreadable.
He had long given up trying to decipher what that troublesome woman was up to now.
“And Yonghe Palace?” he pressed.
“Have any of the implicated palaces reached out to Yonghe Palace?”
This was easier to answer.
Zhao Chang replied promptly, “Aside from Lady Zhangjia of Xianfu Palace secretly sending silver to Yonghe Palace a few times, the other palaces have shown no activity.”
Kangxi mulled this over, then dismissed Zhao Chang’s proposal to haul Concubine Tongjia and Concubine Niuhulu to the Department of Punishment.
“For now, cease investigating their involvement, but find out how they learned of this matter. Have the shadow guards keep a close watch on Yonghe Palace and Xianfu Palace. I will not tolerate any harm to the imperial heir.”
No matter what, as long as the heir was safe, he would let the concubines’ schemes slide.
Even Kangxi, upon learning of the spies planted in Qianqing Palace, had been tempted to behead every last one of those treacherous servants.
They had already been sent to the imperial estate where Qin Xinrong was detained, left to Fuquan’s relentless questioning.Â
He wasn’t surprised by the concubines’ subtle retaliations—it was expected.
But he needed to know the source of their information.
Zhao Chang was confident and thought it was a manageable task so he agreed readily and doubled the shadow guards at Yonghe Palace.
With such vigilance, he believed, barring any accidents, Concubine De would surely deliver the imperial heir safely.
Yet, when the first heavy snow fell on the capital, an accident struck without warning.
In the twenty-seventh year of Kangxi’s reign, October had brought only light flurries.
It wasn’t until mid-November that the first true snow descended, thick flakes pouring from the heavens before dawn, blanketing the Forbidden City in a serene white glow by morning.Â
The shadow guards, eunuchs, and nanny Wu stationed at Yonghe Palace shivered in the biting cold, taking turns warming themselves by braziers to stave off illness.
When a palace maid, newly assigned to Yonghe Palace for only a few months, screamed for a physician, Concubine De had already collapsed in agony.
The shadow guards, unable to act openly, rushed the news to the emperor.
The eunuchs and nanny Wu, stiffened by the cold, took precious moments to react before summoning a physician.
The snow made the paths treacherous, and by the time the physician and eunuchs stumbled into Yonghe Palace, Concubine De had been roused by pinching her philtrum, groaning in pain as labor seized her.
The physician, after taking her pulse, felt his mind buzz with dread, nearly fainting.
Concubine De was only six and a half months along—half a month shy of seven.
A prince born now, even if delivered alive, would not survive.
Kangxi stormed into Yonghe Palace through the swirling snow, his voice icy.
“What happened?”
The physician, kneeling, answered cautiously, “Your Majesty, it seems Concubine De has ingested something to induce labor…”
“Where did it come from?” Kangxi’s gaze, sharp as a blade, swept over the trembling palace maids and nannies kneeling before him, a glint of murderous intent in his eyes.
“I ordered you to protect the imperial heir. Is this how you serve?”
The maids were too terrified to speak, overwhelmed by the emperor’s presence.
Only Jingqi the nanny from the Imperial Household Department, wiping cold sweat from her brow, dared to respond softly.
“Your Majesty, Concubine De’s daily fetal medicine and meals are delivered directly by the Imperial Hospital and kitchen. We servants wouldn’t dare touch them. We truly don’t know…”
“Emperor… Emperor!”
From within, Concubine De’s voice, raw with pain and tears, cut through the air, sharp and vengeful as a specter.
“It’s the evergreen… and the fetal medicine!”
Her hatred burned so fiercely it seemed she might cough blood.
Though confined to Yonghe Palace, she had spent over a decade weaving a network of spies across the palace, some still hidden, unexposed.
Even when the Imperial Concubine and Noble Consort instructed the Imperial Household to focus on her child and slight her, she bided her time, swallowing her fury, determined to give birth first.Â
If it was a prince… if it was a prince!
For the sake of Yinzhen and this child, Kangxi would never let her perish.
Even if demoted to a common concubine or sent to a temple, she would find a way back.
The other concubines had their own dark secrets—she held enough leverage to bend them to her will.Â
The Imperial Household had been purged, true, and her maneuvers were harder now, but had she not endured hardship since entering the palace?
She feared no challenge, as long as she had a chance.
She would always emerge victorious.
She had been so careful, surviving six months, her belly growing day by day.
The eunuchs and nanny Wu, wary of overstepping, had eased their scrutiny, and her days had grown more bearable.
If she could bribe one or two of them to connect with her hidden allies, she could plan a delivery on an unexpected day—like New Year’s Eve, at nearly eight months—to ensure her child’s survival.
But someone had outwitted her, slipping past her defenses.
The moment she awoke, Concubine De knew.
The meals were safe—she only ate what she recognized by taste, rejecting anything unfamiliar.
The problem was the evergreen she kept to soothe her mood.
When she collapsed, she caught a whiff of something wrong.
It had been tampered with.
Kangxi, unwilling to engage with Concubine De’s cries, turned a cold gaze to the physician.
The physician hurried to the evergreen, plucking a small sprig and tasting it, his face paling.
He then examined the dregs of the fetal medicine, finding purslane soaked in safflower.
In the swirling snow, the physician broke into a cold sweat, trembling as he knelt, his face etched with the terror of knowing too much.
“Your Majesty,” he stammered, “the evergreen was doused with oleander sap, and the medicine contains purslane, steeped in safflower…”
Inside, Concubine De bit back her pain, listening intently.
Seizing the moment, she let out a piercing wail.
“Emperor, it hurts so much! Someone is harming me—someone is trying to kill your heir! I beg Your Majesty to seek justice for the child in my womb!”
Kangxi’s head throbbed at her cries.
His face like frost, he stepped out of the main hall, letting the snow cool his mind.
A young eunuch approached swiftly, whispering, “Your Majesty, a palace maid carrying a meal box left and didn’t return. This servant sent someone to follow her to the kitchen, but when I entered in disguise, she was gone.”
“Find out where that evergreen came from,” Kangxi ordered, his chiseled features colder than the storm.
“Except for the midwives and the maids boiling water, send every palace servant and eunuch in Yonghe Palace to the Department of Punishment for thorough interrogation. Summon the Imperial Concubine and Noble Consort to Yonghe Palace!”
The two—one managing palace affairs, the other assisting—could not escape responsibility for this lapse.
But when Li Dequan returned, he brought only the Noble Consort.Â
Niuhulu, as if deaf to the intermittent screams within, bowed respectfully to Kangxi.
“May Your Majesty be blessed with peace. Please forgive me, but Lady Zhangjia of Xianfu Palace fell and went into labor. The Imperial Concubine, not daring to delay, took physicians to Xianfu Palace. I saw Li Dequan on my way and, knowing Xianfu Palace couldn’t be neglected, took it upon myself to come and report to Your Majesty.”
Kangxi’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing within them.
Without permitting Niuhulu to rise, he asked coldly, “And?”
“Is this matter connected to you or the Imperial Concubine?” Kangxi’s voice was low, edged with steel.
“Niuhulu, think carefully before you answer. If I find out you’re involved, you’ll never see Yin’e again for the rest of your life.”
Niuhulu froze, then slowly raised her head, her eyes rimmed with red.
“Does Your Majesty cherish Concubine De above all the other consorts in the palace?”
Her voice trembled with a bitter edge.
“Over the years, how many children have perished in these walls? When my little princess was killed, you refused to seek justice for me…”
A desolate smile curved her lips as she knelt in the snow, her face calm but unyielding.
“I dare not speak for the Imperial Concubine. If you suspect me, punish me outright. There’s no need to threaten me with Yin’e to force a confession.”
Kangxi’s eyes flickered with a cold smirk, gone in an instant as his expression smoothed.
He stepped past her without a word.
“Since the Imperial Concubine is overseeing Xianfu Palace, you’ll stay here and keep watch. I’ll await your good news in Qianqing Palace.”
With Uya-shi’s child unlikely to survive, he wouldn’t allow Imperial Concubine Tongjia to harm Zhangjia-shi as well.
He hurried back to Qianqing Palace, dispatching midwives to Xianfu Palace to supervise.