.
Alongside Wen Shan in the second batch of conferments was Noble Lady Ping, who skipped two ranks directly and was promoted to Consort Ping.
In comparison, she appeared even more conspicuous than Wen Shan.
After the conferment ceremony concluded, Wen Shan returned to Xianfu Palace, stomping her feet from the cold.
“Heavens, we had to worship heaven and earth even in the snow.” Wen Shan entered the room, took off her cloak, and huddled by the charcoal stove to warm up. “The conferment ceremony was far too long; I stood outside for over two hours.”
Originally, Yinzhen and Yinsi were supposed to attend the ceremony as well, but Wen Shan, seeing the heavy snow, insisted on keeping them both at Xianfu Palace. What if the children caught a chill? Besides, there was nothing particularly interesting to watch—she had been kneeling and bowing here and there like a puppet on strings.
The presiding ceremonial official, beaming with joy, remarked that the auspicious snow foretold a prosperous year—a good omen.
She thought it was more like pure torture.
Coincidentally, today was also the first snow, and according to palace regulations, there was an evening banquet. After exhausting herself all morning, she still had to put on a smile and attend.
Thinking about it made her feel even more miserable.
Yinsi was dressed in a dark red mandarin jacket with cloud patterns, its cuffs and collar trimmed with the fluffy white wool Wen Shan had specially sourced for them. The soft fur framed his fair, delicate face, making him look utterly festive. Yinzhen wore an identical outfit, also specially made by Wen Shan. The two brothers, who had been sitting on the heated platform, jumped down as soon as they saw Wen Shan return.
“Don’t touch Mother yet—Mother is too cold.” Wen Shan quickly stopped Yinsi from rushing into her arms.
Yinzhen glanced outside and asked, “Why did Mother return alone? Aren’t the noblewomen supposed to pay their respects after the conferment ceremony?”
Outside, everything was blanketed in white, with not a soul in sight.
“The snow was too heavy, and it was too inconvenient, so the Emperor excused it.” Wen Shan waved her hand.
That was just as well—otherwise, she would have had to force a smile for another two hours back at Xianfu Palace.
Zhen Zhu brought over a bowl of steaming hot fermented glutinous rice balls and said with a smile, “You’ve worked hard, Mistress. Have something warm to drink.”
“Brother and I also roasted sweet potatoes for you in the stove.” Yinsi added, lifting his face.
Wen Shan warmed herself by the fire for a while until she felt sufficiently comfortable, then hugged her two precious sons, moved beyond words. There was truly no place like home.
Ever since Wen Shan had roasted sweet potatoes with Yinzhen and Yinsi a couple of times, the two had developed a passion for the activity. They would often roast a few in the stove whenever they had the chance, and over time, their mastery of heat and timing had even surpassed Wen Shan’s.
“Shall I help you remove these hair accessories first?” Hupo stepped forward, eyeing Wen Shan’s lavish but heavy headdress and attire with concern.
Wen Shan nodded eagerly. The weight of the ensemble was nearly bending her waist.
It took another half-hour of effort to change out of the Noble Consort’s ceremonial attire.
Finally freed from the formal wear, Wen Shan breathed a sigh of relief. She simply tied her hair into a loose bun and settled on the heated platform to taste the sweet potatoes her sons had just roasted.
Wen Shan gave them a thumbs-up and mustered all her knowledge to praise their culinary skills, delighting the two children and making them beam with joy. Yinsi sat beside Wen Shan as she drank the fermented rice ball soup, his eyes gleaming with curiosity as he longed to try a bite. Noticing his eager expression, Wen Shan carefully avoided the glutinous rice balls and scooped up a spoonful of the broth for him to taste. The rice balls were hard to digest, so it was best not to let Yinsi eat them.
Since Yinsi was too young to eat the glutinous rice balls, Yinzhen had no such restrictions and had already downed two bowls in no time before Wen Shan sternly stopped him from having more.
Yinsi gloated on the sidelines, but Yinzhen went over and pinched his cheeks, and soon the two were tumbling around in a playful scuffle.
Wen Shan sipped her warm fermented rice drink while watching her sons roughhouse, feeling in that moment that a peaceful and contented life was exactly like this.
By afternoon, the snow still hadn’t let up. The world outside was hushed, broken only now and then by the crisp snap of tree branches collapsing under the weight of the snow. On a sudden whim, Wen Shan decided she wanted to cut paper window decorations. She had Zhen Zhu fetch a stack of red paper. Yinzhen and Yinsi were still too young for her to trust with scissors, so she set them to drawing designs instead. Whenever they drew something they liked, Wen Shan would cut it out for them to play with.
Wen Shan had always been skilled at this kind of handicraft. Bao Quan and a few others also gathered around the table, cutting out spring characters, peonies, butterflies, and other festive patterns.
In no time, Wen Shan had finished two cuttings: one of a galloping horse and another of a chicken with wings spread as if about to take flight—the zodiac animals of Yinzhen and Yinsi, respectively.
The two paper-cuts were so lifelike that both Yinzhen and Yinsi adored them, carefully tucking them away as prized possessions.
Wen Shan leaned over to see what the boys had drawn. Though Yinzhen had already begun his studies, his drawing skills were still far from polished. After studying his work for a moment, Wen Shan realized he was attempting the classic “Nine Fish” motif. But amid the lively fish, he had added two small figures. At the bottom of the picture, a long-haired woman holding a lantern smiled as she watched the two children playing with the koi.
When Yinzhen noticed Wen Shan leaning in, his cheeks flushed. “I didn’t draw it well,” he mumbled.
Wen Shan wrapped an arm around him. “Yinzhen, you drew this beautifully! Is this Mother, your brother, and you?”
Yinzhen nodded.
Wen Shan gasped dramatically, teasing him, “It’s lovely, but I’m not sure I can cut something this intricate.”
The design was indeed complex. Yinzhen, earnest by nature, grew flustered at her words. He looked left and right, unsure how to simplify it. Wen Shan quickly reassured him that she could manage it and promised to paste the finished paper-cut on the main hall window, where it would greet them every time they opened the door.
What surprised Wen Shan most, however, was Yinsi’s drawing—it was astonishingly good.
She stared at his “Mother and Sons Frolicking with Butterflies” scene, nearly speechless with amazement.
The lines were fluid, the expressions vivid, and both the figures and butterflies were rendered with startling realism. It was impossible to believe this was the work of a child barely over a year old.
Yinsi’s heart sank as he held the brush. This is bad, he thought. In his eagerness to please his mother with a beautiful design, he had completely forgotten that he was supposed to be a toddler, not the Yinsi who had practiced painting for decades.
Anxiously, he watched Wen Shan scrutinize his drawing, a fine sweat breaking out on his palms as his mind raced for a plausible explanation.
“Oh my heavens, our Little Eight is truly a genius!” To his astonishment, his mother swept him up in an ecstatic hug, planting several kisses on his cheeks. “You’re so clever! Is there anything you can’t do?” Wen Shan gazed at her younger son with shining eyes—was this the prodigy she’d read about in novels?
Could it be that their Yinsi possessed an extraordinary gift for painting?
Even Yinzhen couldn’t help but marvel at his brother’s work, never having imagined that his little brother could be so talented.
Yinzhen felt both elated by the praise and deeply moved. Mother would never doubt him, always loving him with unwavering sincerity and accepting every aspect that made him different from others.
He didn’t want to deceive Mother, but telling her he had been reborn might frighten her. After all, matters involving gods and spirits were taboo, and Mother was easily scared.
Yinzhen had considered this before and ultimately decided to keep it hidden for now. If an opportunity arose later, he could reveal it then—or perhaps conceal it forever.
What Yinzhen didn’t know was that Wen Shan herself had experienced the bizarre phenomenon of time travel, making her remarkably adaptable to all kinds of unexpected situations.
Cutting out the two patterns drawn by Yinzhen and Yinsi proved quite challenging. Wen Shan spent over two hours before barely managing to produce two satisfactory paper-cuttings, which she carefully stored away to paste on the windows during the New Year celebrations. It would be fitting for their family to gather cheerfully and stay up late together on New Year’s Eve.
By the time she finished the window decorations, it was almost time for the evening banquet. Fortunately, the snow had stopped an hour earlier. Wen Shan brought Yinzhen and Yinsi to the banquet venue. They arrived early—Kangxi and the two senior empress dowagers had not yet arrived. Only Niuhulu Noble Consort, Rongfei, Yifei, and a few others were already seated.
Niuhulu Noble Consort’s seat faced the Imperial Noble Consort’s, while Wen Shan’s seat was below the Imperial Noble Consort’s and opposite Consort Hui’s.
Consort Hui, being the mother of The Eldest Prince, was now considered the foremost among the consorts.
This palace banquet was organized by Niuhulu Noble Consort, who was still busy inspecting the preparations in various areas. After Wen Shan settled down with Yinzhen and Yinsi, palace maids immediately served tea and pastries. The two children, having grown accustomed to Wen Shan’s culinary skills, showed little interest in the pastries made by the Imperial Kitchen. Wen Shan instead offered them some fruits.
Yifei, seated below Wen Shan, noticed this and struck up a casual conversation.
“Sister Noble Consort, you’re truly the envy of everyone now—Fourth Prince and Eighth Prince are both so well-behaved.”
Wen Shan could tell from Yifei’s radiant complexion and cheerful smile that she had been doing well lately. Having achieved her wish to be enfeoffed as a consort, Kangxi still showed her considerable favor. Wen Shan calculated that after the New Year, Yifei would likely become pregnant with Ninth Prince.
“The New Year is almost here. Fifth Prince will return to Yì Kūn Gōng for a few days, so you can ease your longing for him,” Wen Shan said with a smile.
Yifei sighed sincerely in response, “We only get to reunite for these few days each year. Even though he’s raised within the palace, we seldom see each other—more partings than meetings.”
Suddenly, Yifei’s expression changed, and she hurriedly added, “Sister, please forgive my thoughtless words. I was merely missing my son and didn’t mean any disrespect toward the Empress Dowager.”
Wen Shan, recalling Yinzhen and Wei Shi upon hearing Yifei’s words, smiled and said, “I understand you well. Between us, there’s no need for such apologies.”
Yifei breathed a sigh of relief. Noble Consort Xuan had always been straightforward and sincere, making their interactions relatively relaxed—which was why she had spoken carelessly earlier.
As they conversed, Defei arrived. She was nearly five months pregnant, her condition already visible. Though not overly burdened by her pregnancy, Wen Shan noticed her complexion looked somewhat unwell. Sixth Prince followed closely and took a seat opposite Yifei.
Yinsi tugged at Yinzhen’s sleeve, asking him to tell a story. Yinzhen glanced at his brother helplessly and said, “Younger brother, I’m fine.”
He had long ceased to mind his birth mother’s favoritism or his noble consort mother’s disdain. Now that he could live in Xianfu Palace with his younger brother and mother by his side, he was already quite content.
Yinsi, having had his little scheme seen through, turned away in a mix of embarrassment and anger: “Fine, keep it to yourself then.”
“……”
Consort Yi glanced at Consort De and whispered to Wen Shan: “I heard that two days ago, the imperial physician was summoned to Consort De’s palace because she had caught a chill. I thought she wouldn’t come today.”
After all, she was pregnant, it was snowing heavily today, and she had been unwell a few days ago. It wouldn’t have been unusual for her to request leave.
“Perhaps she’s fully recovered and wanted to get some fresh air,” Wen Shan said.
“Not at all,” Consort Yi raised an eyebrow. “This month, His Majesty only visited Yonghe Palace once. He’s been spending most of his time with the Imperial Noble Consort and Noble Consort Niuhulu. Even the arrangements for Princess Chunxi’s wedding weren’t entrusted to her by the Grand Empress Dowager. If she doesn’t show her face now, people might really forget about her.”
Wen Shan chuckled: “Consort De is carrying the imperial heir after all. You’re being too harsh.”
“What’s so special about an imperial heir these days?” Consort Yi said dismissively. “Our Emperor already has eight princes. It’s not like when he first ascended the throne.”
Wen Shan thought about it and realized she was right – there were indeed many children in the palace now.
After sitting a while longer, Kangxi arrived, coming together with the Imperial Noble Consort.
When Wen Shan curtseyed in greeting, she noticed Noble Consort Niuhulu’s hands were clenched tightly.
It seemed Consort Hui could rest for now. The next to enter the battlefield would be these two formidable figures: the Imperial Noble Consort and Noble Consort Niuhulu.