Liang Jiugong: “…..”Â
‘Same old story. You dare say that, and it’s all because of you!’
Exactly!
Kangxi mulled it over for days.
Until the Longevity Festival, he still didn’t understand what exactly Fang He was angry about. Â
During the day at Yanxi Palace, Fang He acted as if nothing had happened, accompanying Jiujiu to meals, chatting, completely normal.
For naps, Kangxi could only accompany Jiujiu.
For overnight stays, Kangxi only let Jiujiu draw maps on him.
Fang He never said a harsh word, only asked if he had thought it through.
He followed the plan to stay at Chengqian Palace.
The genealogy records were sent to Yanxi Palace and returned unchanged.
Fang He had never looked at them. Â
The fights between the Zunghars and the Khalkha Mongols became fiercer.
Kangxi had to review memorials daily, summon generals in Nanshufang, and occasionally inspect camps outside the capital, leaving no time to ponder. Â
He even stopped going to Chengqian Palace, not wanting Fang He to think he was just quarreling before solving problems.
If he really angered her, she wouldn’t endure it—he would be the one suffering later.
***
After the Longevity Festival, Kangxi finally found some free time to rest for a few days.
Coincidentally, Bai Jin and Zhang Cheng came to the court with Manchu translations of geometry outlines.
Kangxi, holding Fang He’s handwriting, suddenly thought back to her mentioning romance.
He was certain, no matter who said it, that scoundrel had a keen interest in the missionaries’ stories. Â
He dismissed everyone but Bai and Zhang, bluntly asking them:
“I have had some disputes with my wife I cannot resolve. I wish to consult you gentlemen.”
Bai Jin and Zhang Cheng were good at Manchu and worked at the Imperial Astronomical Bureau.
They knew a bit about palace matters and guessed this wife was Imperial Consort Zhao. Â
Zhang Cheng, cautious, asked carefully, “May I ask Your Majesty what disagreement you had with your wife?”
Kangxi hesitated, then told them about the New Year’s Eve night and his intentions.
The two were honest; otherwise, he wouldn’t have kept them at the Bureau. Â
They knew what could be spoken of and what could not.
Unexpectedly, Bai Jin crossed himself and exclaimed “Jesus” after hearing Kangxi.
In other words, he swore to God.
Kangxi, intrigued, asked, “Sir Bai, do you know why my wife is angry?”
Bai Jin, candid, said, “Emperor, do you regard this wife as your only wife or as a lover?”
Liang Jiugong’s face changed, “How dare you! In our court, a lover is a concubine; how dare these foreign ministers slander the ladies!”
Kangxi waved his hand, telling the two kneeling men to rise.
“No matter. Since I want to make her Noble Consort, she is the former.”
Bai immediately added, “But you haven’t given her the respect of a wife. In our country, nobles can have countless lovers, but none inherit their titles or property—only wives do. Even if the wife is disliked, a nobleman cannot disrespect her in public or be scorned as a joke by other nobles.” Â
Zhang Cheng, worried Bai was too blunt, hastened to add, “Of course, in the Qing, all consorts are your wives; inheritance and status are your decision, unlike our country. Maybe your wife just dislikes… you treating feelings as a bargaining chip and instead seeks spiritual connection.” Â
While Bai Jin spoke, Kangxi lowered his eyes, stroking the jadeite washboard in his palm.
Suddenly, he understood something Fang He always wanted: not traditional exclusive favor, but to stand by his side, to be respected as a man’s wife beyond the Emperor’s identity.
Because he always feared harming his wife, he had long abandoned the thought of having one.
But Kangxi was never stupid.
He grasped the unsaid meaning behind those four words, “weathering the storm together.” Â
She wanted to ask, if she were Empress, would he still treat her this way?
No.
In this court, even common ministers were punished severely for favoring a concubine over their wife.
If Fang He were Empress, he would never hurt her face for companionship. Â
He wanted to give her that respect but did so through promises to concubines, which made Fang He lay down her cards.
Seeing Kangxi silent for a long time, Bai Jin and Zhang Cheng grew uneasy.
After a while, Kangxi sighed and tapped his forehead with a counting ring.
He asked Bai Jin, “Sir Bai, in your country, when a husband angers his wife, how does he soothe her?”
Bai Jin:Â Â “….”
“Um… I don’t know. I don’t have a wife!”
In this, Zhang Cheng had more experience.
Smiling, he bowed, “Your Majesty, women care most about their unshakable dignity, the property they control, and the authority to run a household. To appease a wife, only these three matter.” Â
Kangxi:Â Â “……”
“You two may leave now. I do not want to hear about this matter anywhere else today.”
The two hurriedly promised by Jesus’s name to keep quiet.
They didn’t dare leak the Emperor’s privacy—at most, they’d record it in their biographies back home.
After they left, Kangxi pinched his temples and sighed deeply.
Zhang Cheng’s three essentials—except property—were things Kangxi wanted to give but had to consider potential consequences and plan slowly.
“Liang Jiugong, send Gu Wenxing out to the city to order a few things made.”
***
“Order what?” Gu Wenxing almost fell off his kang stove in the Department of Ceremonies’ back chamber.
Liang Jiugong chuckled, “I’ve seen you constantly bring the green head plaque to the Emperor and am jealous of the consorts. I want to make one for myself, but this must be secret, so please carve your name on it.”
“Rumor says the folk washboards are better than those at the laundries. I pity Li Dequan, the poor boy’s hands are worn from washing. Please help me bring a few into the palace.”
Gu Wenxing:Â Â “….”
‘You’re trying to fool a fool! When did you become Jin Ye?’A few washboards? One washboard isn’t enough for your chicken-bodied frame?’
Liang Jiugong took no notice of Gu Wenxing’s silent cursing, speaking earnestly.
“Everyone has quirks. You know I am the steward of Qianqing Palace. I can’t lose the Emperor’s face. Just don’t let anyone find out!”
Gu Wenxing:Â Â “….”
‘Then why don’t you do something respectable!’Â
Gu Wenxing kicked Liang Jiugong out, laughing at the clattering noises inside.
Finally, the old eunuch was the one in trouble!
***
A few days later, less than ten days before the mourning ended, Cui Wei, Xinhua, and Xinzi sat whenever free, embroidering new clothes for Fang He on the soft couch and footstool.
It wasn’t that Fang He refused to let Xinhua and Xinzi sit on the couch.
She was never so harsh with her own people; Cui Wei sitting cross-legged on the couch was proof. Â
But now, with a blanket on the floor, the crawling and fast-moving little Princess Jiujiu played there.
Xinhua and Xinzi divided embroidery threads but didn’t start stitching, waiting for Jiujiu to come and disturb them.
Cui Wei took a needle and sat on the couch to avoid hurting the little mistress.
Fang He sat on the floor, clapping her hands, “Where’s Mama’s little treasure? Come here and give Mama a kiss!”
Jiujiu laughed so hard she could barely move, then plopped down, babbling as she crawled sideways.
Fang He chased her from behind, arms spread like a big monster, “Little princess forgot the password. The big tiger is coming to eat the treasure. Jiujiu, jiujiu, yum yum!”
“OBaJ OboJoBo…”
Jiujiu sat covering her face, eyes wide, struggling to scoot backward.
Caught by Mama, her face really would get nibbled.
Fang He giggled, continuing to reach toward Jiujiu, who quickly lay down on the ground, imitating Mama’s dry-land swimming, grinning at her with a wide little mouth.
“Ma ma ma… no!”
Sprayed with saliva by her daughter, Fang He closed her eyes to catch the little ball.
“Wrong password! Mama’s going to eat you now!”
Jiujiu:  “No… m… huuu…” Â
She covered her mouth, puckering into a duck face, giggling and shaking her head.
Fang He laughed aloud, “You still know how to be naughty? Well then, I have to nibble you more.”
As a gentle kiss landed on her forehead, Jiujiu panicked and shouted in a high baby voice,  “Ma liang! No, jiujiu!” Â
Fang He was surprised, eyes sparkling.
Xinhua and Xinzi stopped embroidering and hurried over. Â
“The little mistress can say ‘Mama’ now!”
“Jiujiu called Mama, ma~ma!”
“Shouldn’t she learn to say ‘Ama’ first?”
Fang He rolled her eyes.
That little rascal probably forgot she even had a daughter.
Teaching without real examples is just making it harder for the child. Â
She tucked the laughing daughter in her arms, “Why are you all in such a hurry? Let her say Mama clearly before learning anything else.”
Children in the palace, taught by nannies, spoke early; Jiujiu’s speech was relatively late.
But Fang He had already told the nannies not to force it.
Her Jiujiu was born to live in comfort and would speak when she wanted.
Babbling was a child’s first step to explore the world; she would not let the child grow fearful of imperial authority this early.
The first birthday ritual was coming soon, and only now had Jiujiu, besides reduplication, called two distinct words for the first time.
Fang He was overjoyed and didn’t press her to say more.
She played with her for a while, and when the child got sleepy, told the nanny to carry her off and soothe her to sleep. Â
She then instructed Cui Wei, “Tell the kitchen to make some minced meat porridge and Jiujiu’s favorite fish ball soup, plus a few apples.”
“Jiujiu said her first words; she deserves a reward to encourage her to speak more.”
Xinke hurried out but was puzzled, telling Liu An, “I feel like I’ve heard this somewhere before.” Â
Liu An covered his mouth, laughing, “Those ancestors in the cat and dog quarters all served like this—ah!”
He got a slap on the back of the head from Xinke and ran off with a grin.
“I’m sorry! I’ll go get a reward for the little mistress right away!”
Xinke: “…..”Â
‘That sounds familiar too—none of you learn anything good from the mistress!’
Inside the hall, Fang He didn’t know Xinke’s muttering and felt a little regretful.
Her daughter said “Mama” for the first time, and she couldn’t even give her mashed potatoes to celebrate.
That master said someone was to look for it—didn’t they already plant it in Qing?
Why after so many months has no one found it?
Isn’t that terribly inefficient? Â
Just then, the familiar laughter of Liang Jiugong came from outside.
“Your servant pays respects to Imperial Consort Zhao, and brings congratulations!”
Fang He walked out curiously, “Congratulations? For what?”
Liang Jiugong smiled and brought three and a half not-so-big boxes over.
“The Emperor decreed: I have thought it through and will not fail you. These gifts express His Majesty’s sincerity.”
Fang He’s eyes suddenly brightened.
Was this her golden grain? Â
No wonder the good father of her Jiujiu knows how to seize the moment.
“Quick, open them! I’ll show you how sincere His Majesty’s gift really is!”
Liang Jiugong: “…..”
‘Open them publicly?!’