It wasn’t yet time for lunch, but Fang He was already savoring her long-craved hedgehog-shaped sticky rice candies, steaming hot and fresh.
They weren’t like the gelatin-based candies of later times.
Back when Fang He visited the nursing home with Geng Shuning, she’d seen a method similar to making sticky rice dumplings, and they were just as delicious.
After sharing her idea with Xinnan, who had a knack for cooking, they nailed a version close to the sticky rice dumplings from Fang He’s memory by the second try.
The only hitch was that the freshly made ones were too soft, and the hot ones seemed to lack a bit of flavor.
Fang He, quick-witted as ever, hatched a plan.
While Cui Wei and Wei Zhu were busy attending to the Emperor up front, she gathered Chun Lai, Xinke, and Xinnan, and slipped off to the secluded alley behind the rear hall.
Shaded from the sun and rarely visited, the snow there was pristine.
They wrapped the hedgehog-shaped dumplings in fine gauze and buried them in the snow to cool.
After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, they’d have a chilled, soft, and sweetly fragrant treat.
“Perhaps your Ladyship should head inside? We’ll wait here,” Liu An suggested cautiously.
Manager Wei had given strict orders not to let their mistress linger outside, but Liu An and the others, who rarely served so closely, felt they lacked the authority to insist.
No one dared to outright stop her.
Even Chunlai hadn’t tried to intervene.
But doing nothing wasn’t an option either, so Liu An ventured a few more gentle nudges.
Fang He didn’t want to make things difficult for them, nor did she fancy returning indoors to the stuffy smell of charcoal fires.
She vaguely recalled that breathing too much carbon dioxide wasn’t good for the baby.
Turning to Chunlai, she said, “How about you fetch those deerhide gloves you made for me? Shall we build a snowman?”
Once the snowman was done, the sticky rice dumplings would be ready to eat.
Seeing Chunlai’s hesitant frown, Fang He deftly placed a hand on her belly.
“The baby’s clapping in there, I can feel it. It must want to see the snowman too!”
The others exchanged glances.
In the palace, which pregnant noblewoman didn’t spend her days practically glued to her bed, coddling her unborn child?
But whether it was truly the little master’s wish… well, who could say?
After all, children often take after their mothers.
Looking at their mistress’s noticeably rounded belly, they scurried to action—some fetching braziers, others grabbing gloves, as if they’d wrap Fang He up until only her eyes peeked out.
Once she donned the gloves, she could barely squat.
Seeing Liu An and Chen Shun on the verge of kneeling in panic, Fang He felt a pang of guilt for causing a fuss.
Instead, she stood beside a brazier and took charge as the director.
“First, roll a big snowball for the body…”
“It needs a snowball about the size of two of Liu An’s heads!”
“Your Ladyship, what about the snowman’s legs?”
Fang He paused.
Good question—she couldn’t quite recall ever seeing them.
“No matter! Let’s say the legs are buried in the snow. Go fetch two pieces of gold from the storeroom for its eyes… Gold eyes are for tigers, you say? Nonsense, the God of Wealth has them too! Hurry up!”
“Hahaha… using charcoal for its mouth? That’s so ugly! Isn’t there a piece of agate in the storeroom?”
***
In the front hall, Kangxi was immersed in reviewing memorials, his focus sharp, when faint laughter and chatter drifted from the rear hall.
His brows furrowed slightly.
Liang Jiugong, ever attentive at his side, immediately caught the shift in mood.
“This servant will go silence them at once!”
Recognizing Fang He’s voice in the commotion, Kangxi cast Liang Jiugong a cool glance.
He hadn’t even told that rascal to hush, yet this bold servant was getting ideas above his station.
Without a word, Kangxi set down his vermilion brush, rose, and strode outside.
Liang Jiugong hurriedly grabbed a heavy cloak and followed, realizing now who was causing the ruckus.
Cui Wei and Wei Zhu were equally frantic.
Was their mistress starting a snowball fight back there?
Did she even remember she was pregnant?
Chunlai and Fule together didn’t have enough nerve to stop her!
And now, they’d drawn the Emperor himself to the scene.
Cui Wei and Wei Zhu didn’t dare act rashly in Kangxi’s presence, especially with his face an unreadable mask.
They could only trail behind, their anxiety was barely contained.
Fang He, oblivious, was busy using an agate hairpin to carve a mouth for the snowman, her back to the rear hall.
When the others suddenly dropped to their knees, she raised an eyebrow, knowing who had arrived.
She paused, slowly stroking her belly as she turned, keeping her eyes down, catching only a glimpse of bright yellow robes.
With exaggerated slowness, she began to lower herself into a squat.
Kangxi’s gaze flicked to the odd, lumpy snowman behind her, then settled on her.
Noticing she’d put on some weight and no longer looked as frail as before, he figured she must be eating and resting well enough.
His emotions—a tangle of frustration and something else—stirred.
Before she could fully squat, he turned and left.
Fang He exhaled in relief.
She’d snuck to this corner of the rear hall to play precisely to avoid entertaining the “boss” with her big belly.
As he walked away, she stood straight, lowered her gaze, and waited for him to leave so she could grab the sticky rice dumplings and retreat indoors.
Living in Yanshi Palace had its downsides.
The front hall, though small, could be sealed off with a closed gate, keeping everyone out unless they made a scene.
But here, with only a corridor connecting the front and rear halls, anyone could waltz in.
She wasn’t even the proper mistress of the place.
When would she ever move to Shoukang Palace?
“Ouch!” A sudden sharp pain in her belly made Fang He gasp, clutching her stomach as she froze.
She’d been using the baby as an excuse, imagining its movements, but in truth, the little one’s stirrings were usually faint, like a hiccup, barely noticeable.
This time, though, it felt like a solid kick, startling and thrilling her.
She looked down at her belly in wonder.
She didn’t notice the others jump at her cry.
Cui Wei’s legs nearly gave out.
Kangxi, who’d already rounded the corner out of sight, strode back swiftly, his complex emotions pushed aside.
Carefully, he scooped her up in his arms, his face darkening as he barked at Liang Jiugong, “Summon the imperial physician!”
Fang He didn’t know whether to push him away or not.
He wasn’t speaking to her—could she speak first?
Not a chance!
So, carried back to the hall, she hadn’t managed to tell the frantic, teary-eyed crowd that it was just a fetal movement.
Kangxi opened his mouth as if to say something, but Fang He, expecting a scolding, turned her head away.
Sitting on the soft couch, propped up with one hand, her cherry lips pursed tightly, she refused to meet his gaze.
His expression grew darker still.
Without a word, he turned and left the rear hall.
Fule rushed over to check her pulse, and Fang He quickly clarified, “I’m fine! The baby just kicked me—its first real kick! It must’ve… seen its father and gotten excited. Such a filial child!”
Her unborn child was already throwing punches for its mother—what a devoted little one!
The others were speechless.
Even Liang Jiugong, who knew Fang He well, could tell “filial” wasn’t aimed at the Emperor.
Glancing at his master standing on the corridor, face frosted over, Liang Jiugong stifled a chuckle.
Still, duty called.
He draped the cloak over Kangxi’s shoulders.
“Your Majesty, it’s cold out. Shall we wait inside?”
“No need,” Kangxi said coldly.
“Check on the physician’s progress.”
Inside, Fang He was about to praise her baby when she shrank back, eyes wide, peering outside.
He’d left—why was he still lingering in the rear hall?
Her words just now… they shouldn’t have been a problem, right?
Since learning of the palace women’s schemes—and after Kangxi had cleaned up the mess for her—Fang He had grown wary of the deep palace’s dangers.
She no longer acted as impulsively as before.
Last time, she hadn’t even argued.
Now, practically a concubine on the verge of being sidelined, she had no intention of offending him further.
Who’d have thought he’d stand out there in just a thin robe?
What, was the front hall not cold enough for his majestic brooding?
Zhang, the imperial physician, arrived swiftly.
After hearing Fule’s report and checking Fang He’s pulse himself, he confirmed it was merely normal fetal movement and hurried to inform the Kangxi Emperor.
Kangxi, his expression impassive, instructed Liang Jiugong, “Tell that rascal inside that if she doesn’t want to be confined to her chambers, she’d better stop causing trouble. Without that baby as her shield, the Empress Dowager could have her head by tomorrow!”
Liang Jiugong bit his tongue.
With the Emperor’s voice carrying like that, the “rascal” inside had surely heard every word.
Stepping cautiously into the hall, he found Fang He reclining on a cushioned pillow, her lips curved in a half-smile that didn’t reach her eyes as she fixed him with a knowing look.
Liang Jiugong had no desire to be caught between these two titans.
He’d always thought divine quarrels left mortals in the crossfire, but compared to their current silent standoff, he’d rather think that they just have it out.
Bowing low, he ventured carefully, “His Majesty has always held Your Ladyship in his thoughts. Please, don’t misunderstand.”
“His Majesty sealed off Yanshi Palace to ensure your peace and to keep opportunists at bay,” he continued, his tone measured.
“Even with state affairs pressing, he came to support you. He only stayed away from the rear hall, fearing you were still upset.”
Fang He’s smile turned curious, almost playful.
“Did His Majesty tell you all this, Liang Jiugong?”
Liang Jiugong faltered and replied, “Well… not exactly. This servant has merely served His Majesty long enough to—”
“So you’re passing off your own words as an imperial decree?” Fang He cut in politely, her smile still soft but sharp.
“Or perhaps you’ve become the worm in His Majesty’s belly, speaking for him whenever he pleases?”
Liang Jiugong waved his hands in a panic.
“Your Ladyship, you’ll be the death of this servant! I wouldn’t dare!”
Her smile faded slightly.
“Then you may take your leave, Liang Jiugong. I heard His Majesty’s words clearly and will mind my place. No need for His Majesty to trouble himself over me.”
Kangxi wasn’t mute, was he?
If they’d fallen out, why send her this silent, brooding act of devotion?
Sorry, but Fang He had never been one to melt at such gestures.
His reasons, his supposed care—she dismissed them all.
If he wouldn’t speak, she’d claim the right to interpret it her way.
The twelfth lunar month always seemed to race by.
Fang He had only just noticed her baby growing lively, greeting her daily with little kicks, when the blink of an eye brought New Year’s Eve.
Though confined and unable to leave, her spirits were high.
Early that morning, she sent for silver and had servants purchase vegetables and meat from the imperial estate, instructing the kitchen to deliver a pot of simmered fish and lamb broth.
Everything else could arrive raw.
The food was prepared out of her smelling range and brought to the hall.
The eunuchs and rough servants took turns standing guard, joining one table, while Fang He and Cui Wei’s group gathered at another, celebrating the new year with lively cheer.
It was far more comfortable than nibbling on the palace banquet’s overly ornate steamed dishes.
As dusk fell and lanterns were lit, Fang He even had two jugs of green plum wine brought in.
Except for Fule and Chunlai, everyone could take turns enjoying a couple of cups.
Fang He, craving a taste but mindful of her condition, mixed a dash of the wine into her honeysuckle dew, sipping it like a flavored drink to satisfy her itch.
The hotpot feast left her cheeks flushed, though she was far from tipsy.
If not for her rounded belly, she looked more radiant than ever, her beauty almost heart-stopping.
Xinke, after a cup of wine, propped her chin and gazed at her mistress, giggling to Xinzi.
“Our lady is so stunning. When the little prince grows up, he’ll surely be the handsomest of all the princes!”
Xinnan quickly covered Xinke’s mouth.
“Watch your tongue! We can’t gossip about our lady like that. If outsiders hear, you’ll lose that tongue of yours.”
Fang He just chuckled, watching their playful banter.
Xinke, puffing out her cheeks, tickled Xinnan’s armpit.
“It’s New Year’s Eve! Everyone’s at the Qianqing Palace banquet. No outsiders are coming here!”
Cui Wei and Wei Zhu, for the same reason, didn’t scold her.
But to everyone’s shock, just as Xinke’s words landed, Cui Fuquan’s panting, astonished voice rang out from the door.
“My lady! My lady! I think… His Majesty’s carriage is here!”
The room froze.
Drunk or sober, everyone leapt up, scrambling to clear the table’s mess, hearts pounding in panic.
Even Fang He couldn’t believe it.
“What do you mean?”
The New Year’s Eve banquet typically lasted past midnight.
With everyone eating late for the vigil, it was already 9 p.m.
Surely, even if the Emperor had lost his mind, he wouldn’t show up now!
The hall was tidied in a flash.
It was New Year’s Eve, after all—Fang He couldn’t keep avoiding him.
Boss or not, the Empress Dowager and Kangxi were still family.
She’d see him eventually.
For her child’s sake, she couldn’t truly fall out with him.
A show of deference and civility was inevitable.
She sent someone to ask if she should pay her respects.
When Wei Zhu reached the front hall, he realized the Emperor wasn’t mad—he was drunk.
The air reeked of wine.
Li Dequan, pacing at the entrance, looked ready to jump out of his skin.
The Empress Dowager, frail and unable to stay up, had retired early to Cining or Shoukang Palace with the Dowager.
Barely half an hour later, Kangxi had been toasting with ministers, drinking heavily.
Then, under the pretense of changing, he’d called for his imperial palanquin and insisted on coming to Yanshi Palace.
No one could stop him.
With so many at Qianqing Palace, the news would spread.
When the Emperor sobered up, how would he explain this to the Empress Dowager?
Spotting Wei Zhu, Li Dequan grabbed his hand like a lifeline.
“Brother, has your lady retired? If not, please ask her to come persuade His Majesty to return to Qianqing Palace! If he misses the vigil and leaves the empresses and clan behind, it’ll be a mess to explain!”
Wei Zhu’s heart sank.
This was no time for sentiment.
Thankfully, the ground was clear of snow, only cold.
He raced back to the rear hall.