Concubine of the Eastern Palace (Qing Dynasty Time Travel)

If Yinreng knew what He Baozhong was thinking, he would surely shake his head helplessly.

A Wan had never been one to take on responsibilities. From her words and actions, it was clear that she disliked managing affairs. That was the first point. Furthermore, A Wan now had favor and a child. If she were to take control of household matters as well, once Lady Shi entered the household—even if she had the temperament of a saint—she wouldn’t be able to tolerate it. Even if A Wan did nothing, Lady Shi would probably be ready to fight her.

Yinreng didn’t want to put A Wan in such a difficult position. However, a favored concubine with a child would always draw attention. That’s why the presence of Tang Gege was perfect. Yinreng planned to establish balance among the people in the courtyard, forming a stable “three-legged tripod.”

Of course, promoting A Wan’s status was also a way to give her the ability to be part of this balance.

A secondary concubine would no longer be an easily disposable concubine.

For the Manchus, the role of a secondary concubine was entirely different from what the Han people referred to as a second wife or concubine. A secondary concubine wasn’t a mere concubine; her status and authority were far higher. She was officially registered by the Ministry of Rites, wore ceremonial robes determined by the imperial court, and was included in the royal genealogy. During festivals, she even had the privilege to enter the palace and participate in grand banquets.

Soon, the opportunity Yinreng was waiting for arrived.

It was a beautiful day—September 9th, the Double Ninth Festival. In the capital, people climbed Xiangshan Mountain with cornel branches in hand, and kites filled the skies. In the palace, chrysanthemum wine and festival cakes were distributed, and the imperial kitchen prepared lamb noodle soup for dinner.

Early in the morning, Emperor Kangxi went to the Hall of Ancestors to offer sacrifices to his forebears. Later, he hosted a banquet to pray for the Empress Dowager’s longevity. Yinreng, dressed in full ceremonial attire as the Crown Prince, busied himself all day, sweating through his clothes. Once the banquet ended, he finally returned to the Yuqing Palace.

He went straight to the inner chambers, where Cheng Wanyun helped him bathe and change clothes. After eating a bowl of chilled grass jelly, he finally felt revived.

Cheng Wanyun had made a small dog-shaped kite out of bamboo strips. Tianjin was running around the courtyard with the kite, and the little dog wobbled into the air with the wind. Meanwhile, E Linzhu toddled after it, laughing so hard her eyes turned into crescents.

She could now take a few steps on her own, but she would soon tumble over like a ball. Cheng Wanyun had spread a giant bamboo mat in the courtyard with several layers of quilts underneath. E Linzhu ran, fell, and rolled on the mat, but she was happier than anyone else.

Watching his daughter roll around like a little embroidered ball, Yinreng couldn’t help but step forward to pick her up. He held her in his arms, carefully checking if her arms were bruised or her chubby knees were sore. After a moment, he planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Daddy’s little E Linzhu, did you have fun? Let Daddy help you walk in a bit so you don’t hurt yourself.”

E’linzhu giggled foolishly after being kissed and reached out to grab the Crown Prince’s face. Mimicking him, she smeared saliva all over his face and mumbled, “Ah-ma.”

Cheng Wanyun watched as the Crown Prince didn’t mind his daughter’s slobber at all, nor did he object to being called “A-ma.” He just smiled, a warm and radiant smile, like the thawing sun of a spring day.

“A Wan, did you hear that? E Linzhu called me ‘A-ma (father)’!” Yinreng was overjoyed.

Cheng Wanyun pouted and huffed. “Hmph, E Linzhu could call me ‘A-lian (mother)’ when she was just seven months old!”

In truth, E Linzhu was a bit late when it came to speaking. At over ten months old, she still couldn’t string full sentences together, only saying a few common words. However, she had learned to walk earlier than most. Cheng Wanyun suspected it was because she liked to kick off her blanket at night. With her legs getting a nightly workout, it was no wonder she picked up walking so quickly.

“This sun is far too harsh. Just a little playtime will do. Our E Linzhu is so fair-skinned; we don’t want her getting tanned,” Yinreng said enthusiastically as he carried E Linzhu inside. Placing her on the bed, he decided to personally help his daughter change her clothes.

However, he quickly underestimated the combat power of a ten-month-old baby. The moment Yinreng laid E Linzhu on her back on the bed, before he could figure out which side of her little clothes was the front, she flipped over and crawled away. Yinreng hurriedly scooped her back up. Just as he managed to get one sleeve on, she wriggled free from the other, leaving him sweating profusely and utterly disheveled.

After much effort, Yinreng finally managed to dress E Linzhu, only to realize that he had put her silk pants on backward. Mama Suo held back her laughter as she stepped forward to take over. “Your Highness, let this servant handle it.”

Yinreng sighed and said, “It’s a good thing E Linzhu wasn’t born into an ordinary family…” In a common household, where there weren’t so many people to care for the children, and with more kids around, a mischievous child like her would likely end up getting scolded—or worse, smacked—by an impatient mother.

Children were like that everywhere. Yinreng, of course, had no idea that there was a term in later times called “stay-at-home dad.” Cheng Wanyun, observing from the sidelines, covered her mouth with a handkerchief to stifle her laughter and took the opportunity to respond to Yinreng’s earlier question. “Children need sunlight to grow tall.”

She recalled that her colleagues in the modern era gave their children Vitamin D3 or fish oil supplements. But in the Qing dynasty, such options didn’t exist. So she did her best to provide E Linzhu with calcium-rich foods, such as egg custard, tofu, fish, and milk, while ensuring that the child got plenty of sun exposure. Cheng Wanyun hadn’t forgotten that calcium absorption required ultraviolet rays and that sunlight also helped the body produce Vitamin D.

“She’s a girl. Why does she need to grow so tall?” Yinreng asked, utterly baffled by Cheng Wanyun’s parenting philosophy. “You were so delicate and slender yourself. Why would you want your daughter to grow tall and strong?”

Cheng Wanyun, unwilling to argue with a Qing dynasty man who lacked scientific knowledge, took a different approach to counter him. “Our Great Qing princesses often marry into Mongolia. If she’s not tall and strong, won’t she just end up being bullied by her husband? I’m planning for E Linzhu to learn horseback riding and archery when she’s older—and it’d be even better if you find her an old martial arts master to teach her some moves. Not only will it strengthen her body, but if her future husband dares to misbehave, she can beat him until he’s crawling on the ground looking for his teeth!”

In truth, Cheng Wanyun had her own thoughts about these marriages to Mongolia. First, there was no resisting Emperor Kangxi’s will. Second, as the Crown Prince’s daughter, E Linzhu was far more esteemed than the other imperial granddaughters, so Kangxi likely wouldn’t marry her off carelessly—but then again, one could never be sure.

That was why it was especially important for E Linzhu to be independent.

Not all Qing princesses were soft and delicate. Take Princess Rongxian, born to Noble Consort Rong, for example. She had been married to Ulgong of the Borjigit clan of the Baling tribe in Mongolia just a few years ago. Her husband, Ulgong, was Emperor Hong Taiji’s great-great-grandson and was said to be even more robust than the consort of the Third Princess. He could reportedly kill a sheep with one punch. But once Princess Rongxian arrived on the grasslands, she didn’t complain or resent her circumstances. Instead, she embraced the nomadic life with enthusiasm and lived as freely as a bird, thriving in her new environment.

Ulgong held Princess Rongxian in high regard, and it was said that he often took her falcon hunting in the mountains and fields.

In contrast, the Third Princess, who was much more reserved, had recently written a letter home. It was said that Concubine Bu nearly cried her heart out after reading it.

Cheng Wanyun naturally hoped that E Linzhu would grow up to be like Princess Rongxian. From a modern perspective, marrying into Mongolia was akin to moving from Beijing to Inner Mongolia. Thinking of it this way made the idea slightly more bearable.

Yinreng was shocked by Cheng Wanyun’s remarks. But after pondering them, he found himself persuaded. Indeed, Princess Rongxian’s strong and determined nature had earned her respect even in Mongolia. The Third Princess, on the other hand, with her quiet demeanor, seemed to have had a much harder time adapting to her new life.

As a result, Yinreng started making plans. After the New Year, when the Mongolian tribute horses arrived, he would ask Emperor Kangxi for a small pony for E Linzhu. He would personally train it and teach her to ride! She would start learning at the age of two!

As for the little prince, he hadn’t been given a formal name yet, only a nickname, Akedun. Once he turned three and was able to stand on his own, Yinreng planned to ask Emperor Kangxi for a proper name for him, and then officially move him to Chunben Hall for proper upbringing. Yinreng hadn’t intended to hand the little prince over to Lady Shi immediately; he wanted to observe her character and personality first. Only if he trusted her would he consider entrusting their firstborn son to her care.

The three of them were having a quiet, tender conversation, with Yinreng holding Cheng Wanyun’s shoulder. The two stood side by side, discussing what they would add for E Linzhu’s future and what she would learn, growing more and more like parents pushing their child to excel, full of hopes and dreams for the future. They gazed fondly at her as she played with a small bell and cloth doll on the cool couch.

Meanwhile, things were far different outside their home. The court had suddenly been shaken by a storm of anti-corruption investigations.

It began with the newly appointed head of the Imperial Household Department, Shang Zhi, who was reported to the censors. Allegedly, the number of Mongolian tribute horses recorded in the department’s archives didn’t match the actual number of horses in the stables within the Forbidden City and the seventeen other stables in the southern gardens. There were simply not enough horses in the stables, yet every year, grain and fodder had been allocated according to the registered numbers—resulting in over ten years of “empty horse allowances.”

The phrase “over ten years” was a careful choice, as Shang Zhi tearfully protested at the gates of Qianqing Palace, claiming that he had only taken office less than a year ago and hadn’t yet fully understood the operations of the six departments and three courts. He insisted that the “empty horse allowance” case had nothing to do with him.

Of course, it was the Ministry of Revenue, which controlled the finances of the empire, that had exposed this issue. The Ministry of Revenue knew that the Upper Four Courts (Shang Si Yuan) had eighteen horse stables in the capital, including three in the Forbidden City, five near Dong’an Gate, three near Xi’an Gate, six in the Southern Garden, and one in Xiangshan. These stables housed various types of horses: imperial horses, carriage horses, special horses for the Emperor, and young horses still growing, all requiring feed such as beans, rice, and grass—most of which were considered part of the food supply and needed to be allocated by the Ministry of Revenue.

Every year, about 14,000 horses were registered in these eighteen stables, but the censors’ report revealed that, according to complaints from the stable supervisors and guards, the total number of horses in these stables barely added up to 10,000, meaning that over 4,000 horses were effectively ghost horses, consuming resources for which they were never provided.

Master Cheng sat in his small office at the government office, drenched in cold sweat.

Just the day before, his superiors had handed him the account books for nearly ten years’ worth of horse feed supplies, ordering him to work overtime with his clerks to do the calculations. He had worked through the night without returning home. As soon as he finished the calculations and submitted them to his superiors, the next day, he heard about this huge scandal in the palace.

Although Master Cheng was honest, he knew that someone had deliberately dragged him into this mess.

Sweat continued to pour down his face as his complexion gradually turned pale.

The reason they targeted someone like him, a minor official, wasn’t because of him personally, but because of the people behind him!

And who were the people behind him? It was his eldest daughter, who had to support the whole family from a young age by working in the palace!

Since Cheng Wanyun entered the palace, it was as if an entirely new world had opened up to Master Cheng, making him more alert and cautious than ever before.

He walked restlessly around the office several times, trying to hide his unease, but he didn’t want anyone to notice. He pretended to have an upset stomach and secretly hid a pen in his sleeve. He asked his servant, Lao Ding, to help him to the restroom, but instead, he wrote a letter on toilet paper in the foul-smelling bathroom and had Lao Ding run to deliver it home.

Before Lao Ding returned with a reply, Master Cheng remained squatting in the latrine, pretending to be gravely ill. He stuffed toilet paper into his nose to block the smell, making himself dizzy from the fumes, but he remained motionless, playing the part of someone suffering from severe diarrhea to perfection.

When Madam Wu received the letter, she immediately summoned her eldest son, Huai Zhang, and spoke to him in an unusually stern tone, “Your mother is leaving immediately. Lock the doors, and make sure your younger siblings stay inside. Do you understand?”

Before her son could ask any further questions, she ordered Lao Ding to stay at the house to assist Huai Zhang and quickly had a carriage prepared. She headed straight to the restaurant run by E Chu in the capital.

When E Chu arrived urgently, he found the Crown Prince resting in Cheng Wanyun’s quarters. Cheng Wanyun liked to pull the curtains shut when she slept, making the room dark as night. Yinreng, half-awake, noticed that the space in his arms was empty. Cheng Wanyun, who was restless in her sleep, had rolled away from him. Groggily, he reached out and pulled her back into his embrace. Cheng Wanyun, still drowsy, was startled when she was pulled into his arms, but the familiar scent of the Crown Prince calmed her. She instinctively buried her face in his chest, snuggling closer. Yinreng, pleased by her action, closed his eyes and nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. The two of them continued to sleep soundly in each other’s arms.

Suddenly, they heard He Baozhong pacing outside, anxiously calling out in a low voice.

He Baozhong was a perceptive person. The fact that he was disturbing their sleep meant that something urgent had occurred. Yinreng immediately opened his eyes and gently patted Cheng Wanyun, who was rubbing her eyes after being woken up. He comforted her, “Go back to sleep, I’ll be back after handling something. We’ll have dinner together later.”

Cheng Wanyun, who was pregnant with their second child and in the midst of her sleepy phase, lazily kissed the Crown Prince and continued to snuggle under the covers to sleep.

She now needed to sleep at least ten hours a night.

Yinreng, with tenderness in his eyes, sat on the edge of the bed and gently brushed her hair. Only then did he calmly leave the room.

When He Baozhong saw the Crown Prince taking his time, he couldn’t help but slap his thigh and say, “Your Highness, Lord E Chu has been waiting at Chunben Hall, and he’s nearly out of his mind with worry. Please, go check on him. He’s already sent three eunuchs to ask after you.”

Yinreng nodded. Compared to He Baozhong, who was visibly anxious, Yinreng only slightly quickened his pace.

After waiting for so long, he had finally caught the hook.

Yinreng never imagined that one day he would actually hope that someone would come up with a way to deal with him.

When E Chu saw the Crown Prince’s figure in his dark blue robe embroidered with green bamboo appear at the second gate, he had been anxiously looking around outside Chunben Hall. He let out a deep sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

“Your Highness…” E Chu stepped forward to greet him with a respectful bow.

“Let’s talk inside.” Yinreng’s steps were steady, and his face remained calm. As Hua La prepared tea, he even took the time to introduce it to E Chu. “This is Cheng Gege’s fruit tea. It contains dried orange slices, dried apple slices, dried lemon, and a bit of jasmine. It’s very fragrant; you’ve probably never had it outside. You should try it.”

Hua La was now an expert at making fruit tea. He brought over a set of sky-blue Ru kiln crackle-glazed tea utensils, using tweezers to place the various dried fruits into the teapot, adding honey and rock sugar, then pouring in cold water, adding freshly crushed ice, and stirring it with a wooden stick. This cold-brew fruit tea was neither sour nor bitter. Previously, Hua La didn’t know how to make it, and he nearly ruined it by using boiling water, almost souring his teeth.

E Chu had no interest in tasting the fruit tea, though it did smell quite nice. At Yinreng’s suggestion, he took a sip. It was indeed refreshing and fragrant, with a hint of sweetness, which calmed the heat in his body. E Chu finally understood the Crown Prince’s thoughtful gesture, and he too became more composed.

After Hua La finished preparing the tea and brought in some snacks, he left. E Chu dismissed the attendants and knelt down to relay the urgent message from the Cheng family. “I am incompetent, Your Highness. Lord Cheng has fallen into a trap.”

“It’s not your fault. Get up.” Yinreng raised an eyebrow after hearing this, remaining calm with no sign of anger, even finding it… somewhat amusing. These people… He wasn’t sure if it was from the First Prince’s side or some clever person in the court who came up with this idea, but they thought of using the filth from the Ministry of Internal Affairs to test the Emperor’s attitude toward him.

First, the Ling family had already fallen, so the Emperor wouldn’t investigate again. Second, though the matter might not directly implicate the Crown Prince, it would cause him some embarrassment. Third, it could drag the Cheng family into it, causing him some trouble, while also bringing the fact that he had placed the Cheng family in the Ministry of Revenue into the Emperor’s view.

Three birds with one stone.

Yinreng thought for a moment and realized that this trick was probably from the side of Yanxi Palace. After all, the Ministry of Internal Affairs was under the control of Suo Erhe, and he knew there must be some hidden agenda behind it. This plan would create a loud slap, and if the Emperor got angry, it was unlikely he would suspect Consort Hui or the First Prince. After all, by exposing this matter, they wouldn’t benefit from it.

Suo Erhe, the Minister in charge of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, should have already entered the palace to apologize. He might even be kneeling and crying in front of the Emperor to complete the act.

Yinreng was considering what kind of reaction he should have.

Should he go to the Emperor and cry? He thought about it for a moment and immediately felt a shiver run down his spine. He simply couldn’t bring himself to do it. Sometimes, he felt that the officials in the court had thicker skin than him; they could cry whenever they wanted, deeply and emotionally, even to the point of fainting from the intensity.

In the end, he decided to wait and see, instructing E Chu to tell the Cheng family not to worry, to continue with their business as usual, and not to lose their composure. E Chu was confused but left to carry out the task. He couldn’t understand why the Crown Prince wasn’t anxious about the situation. The consequences of exposing Chief Steward Ling’s misdeeds were significant—this matter could blow up.

If the Emperor orders a thorough investigation and it leads to even more people being implicated, the Crown Prince will certainly bear the consequences.

Originally, he had the useless Consort who couldn’t help much, and now with such a blow, even the Hesheri clan will lose face. The reason E Chu was so anxious was because he had been scolded harshly by Suoetu before entering the palace.

The Crown Prince couldn’t possibly be at fault. If the Crown Prince was schemed against and suffered losses, it would naturally be the fault of those of them who served him as slaves.

Yinreng, of course, wasn’t anxious. He was about 80% sure that the Emperor wouldn’t punish him for not being strict with his subordinates. After all, Chief Steward Ling’s matter was a mistake he had made himself, and only he and the Emperor knew the details. Others believed that the fall of the Ling family was due to Emperor Kangxi’s hand, and with the recent marriage arrangement incident, didn’t it just prove that the Crown Prince had displeased the Emperor?

Since that was the case, wouldn’t it be a “loyal act” to step on the Crown Prince along with the Emperor?

Yinreng stroked his chin, thinking that the Emperor would certainly not allow others to challenge his authority so recklessly—just recently, he had lost face over the marriage issue, and the Emperor wouldn’t let him lose face again. Otherwise, the East Palace’s reputation would be trampled underfoot, and who would rein in the First Prince and Mingzhu?

Though he hadn’t dreamed in a long time, he was now seeing the court situation more clearly than ever before.

He even thought back to something mentioned in a dream before, about “Suing Chief Steward Ling for embezzling the Mongolian tribute horses.” He wondered if it referred to this time when the censors had impeached the Ministry of Internal Affairs for consuming “ghost horses’ rations.” If it really was, then back then, Chief Steward Ling was still the head of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. The censors didn’t use a method like this one; instead of targeting Suoetu, they directly accused Chief Steward Ling, the actual culprit. This was no longer a simple test—it seemed they must have used this method to bring down the Ling family in the past.

Yinreng stood up and walked to the window to look at the two sacred bodhi trees. It was said that the Buddha, Shakyamuni, meditated under the bodhi tree for six years before attaining enlightenment, which is why the tree is also known as the Tree of Wisdom, or the Sacred Tree of Buddhism.

So, where was his path?

In his dream, he had probably gone down the wrong path—he had lost his closest servant, and no doubt, in his anger, he must have made some ill-advised retaliation.

If dreams were reflections from past lives, then in the previous life, he had lost his virtuous heart on Gulu Fu’erjian Jia Hun’ga, and now, in dealing with the ghost horse rations incident, he had faltered again. One wrong step led to another, and his foundation had already been shaken.

Yinreng gazed at the bodhi tree. The bodhi tree was resilient, hardly affected by disease or pests. Even the servants had remarked something strange: when they passed under the shade of the bodhi tree in the scorching summer, they felt incredibly cool, and in winter, they would feel warmth beneath it. During the New Year and festivals, even the young eunuchs and palace maids would pray to these two trees.

This time, could he become the person who remains steadfast and unshaken, even amidst the storms, diseases, and pests?

Shakyamuni (another name for Siddhartha Gautama, the historical Buddha) attained great enlightenment when the morning star rose and the dawn light broke, becoming the Buddha.

Now, perhaps the day of enlightenment for him was drawing near.

Yinreng’s thoughts shifted, and he ordered someone to bring the little prince over. The child, already two years old, was being led steadily by the wet nurse. Yinreng had specifically instructed that E Chu’s son be brought into the palace to be the little prince’s playmate and to teach him proper manners. Therefore, although the little prince was somewhat shy, his posture had been well trained. He stepped forward and performed a graceful kowtow, his voice soft and clear: ‘Son pays respects to Father, may Father live long.’

The child looked very much like Wang Gege. He wasn’t tall, but had delicate and elegant features. Around his neck hung a pure gold longevity lock. He wore a blue satin robe, with dark silk trousers underneath. His left elbow still turned outward a little, and his shoulders were slightly uneven, but he had improved a lot since birth, and it was now hardly noticeable.

“Did the imperial doctor give you acupuncture today?” Yinreng waved for his son to come closer, picking him up and gently feeling his elbow. He then asked the nursemaid, “What medicine is he taking now?”

“Replying to the Crown Prince, the eldest prince had acupuncture this morning. The doctor also said that his arm is much more flexible now, and he no longer needs medicine,” the nursemaid replied, kneeling on the ground. She was a plump and dark-skinned woman, a daughter-in-law from the Li family, but she spoke with clarity. “I have learned the massaging techniques from the imperial doctor. Today, I tried it on the eldest prince, and he said it felt comfortable.”

“In that case, make sure to follow the doctor’s instructions and massage him daily. Don’t slack off,” Yinreng said as he gently bounced the young prince in his arms, asking a few more questions, like what he had eaten today and whether he was still coughing.

When the eunuch from Qianqing Palace arrived to summon him, he had just fed the young prince half a cup of fruit tea without ice and given him two small pieces of cake. The young prince seldom had such intimate moments with his father, and his face was rosy with happiness. He held onto Yinreng’s collar, unwilling to let go. Seeing this, Yinreng felt a bit soft-hearted.

So, after listening to the eunuch, he didn’t put the young prince down. Looking into his eager, sparkling eyes, he smiled and said, “Let’s go. Let’s go meet your Emperor Grandfather.”