“Father!” Yiqing’s eyes lit up, and she naturally stretched out her hands toward Prince Gong.
Prince Gong often came to the palace to pay his respects to the Empress Dowager and the Grand Empress Dowager. As a younger family member, this was perfectly proper and expected, yet Kangxi did not look favourably upon it.
The reason was that every time Prince Gong visited, he would teach Yiqing to call him Father.
At first, this had confused Yiqing. She had understood from a very young age that the term “Father” referred to one’s own birth parent. This was why she had felt no awkwardness when addressing Kangxi as Imperial Father, for everyone around her had told her time and again that he was her father.
Prince Gong had entered the picture later, because in the first few months after Yiqing was brought to the palace, Kangxi had sent him away on official business. By the time he was free to return and see his daughter, Yiqing was nearly one year old.
So when this young man appeared before the one-year-old Yiqing, beaming with a bright smile and asking her to call him Father, her very first thought was that a strange uncle had turned up!
It was only later, when she saw that both the Empress Dowager and the Grand Empress Dowager seemed to accept this arrangement without objection, that Yiqing finally began to use the title. She had even wondered privately whether the word “Father” was actually a general term for older male relatives, or perhaps meant “Uncle”, while “Imperial Father” was the proper way to address one’s true parent.
It was not until one evening, when she overheard the adults talking, that she finally learned the truth: this so-called strange uncle was actually her biological father, and the Emperor was her adoptive father. She could not quite understand why her own father, who clearly seemed fully capable of providing for her, had chosen to send her to be raised by someone else. But once she understood the situation, she no longer felt any resistance toward Prince Gong and was happy to call him Father.
Yiqing may have been content with this arrangement, but Kangxi was far from pleased. Every time he saw Prince Gong coming to the palace to play and interact with Yiqing, his expression would turn stern and displeased, and on two occasions he had even spoken out against it directly.
“Yiqing is my daughter now,” Kangxi said, his voice sharp with discontent as he watched Prince Gong holding the child in his arms. “The proper title for you is Fifth Uncle.”
Prince Gong held Yiqing a little closer to his chest. “She is my own flesh and blood. When the Empress Dowager brought her into the palace, she promised me that Yiqing would still be allowed to call me Father.”
Yiqing lay cradled in Prince Gong’s embrace, her small head turning back and forth constantly, looking from one speaker to the other as they spoke. Neither of the two men bothered to keep their conversation private, assuming that since she was still so young, she would not understand what they were saying.
Kangxi was taken aback. “Her name has already been recorded in the imperial genealogy under my household. How can she still address you in this way?”
“The Empress Dowager gave me her word, and that is all that matters.” Prince Gong huffed with pride and affection, then turned to the child in his arms. “My sweet daughter, call me Father.”
Yiqing glanced at Kangxi, whose face had turned dark and forbidding, then looked up at her birth father, whose expression was bright and cheerful. She decided that the safest course of action was to say nothing at all.
It was only at this moment that Yiqing finally learned that Prince Gong was indeed her biological father.
Although Kangxi was deeply unhappy about the situation, he could not very well punish or reprimand his younger brother over such a matter. Prince Gong never interfered in political affairs, and he had always treated Kangxi, his elder brother who had become Emperor, with the utmost respect. In the grand scheme of things, this was really nothing more than a trivial domestic matter.
And so Kangxi was forced to accept that Yiqing would also call Prince Gong Father.
Now, seeing his daughter again, Prince Gong stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her, lifted her up, and laughed heartily. “My dear little Yiqing, you haven’t even told me yet what made you sigh just now. Is something bothering you? Are you unhappy about something?”
As he spoke, he glanced briefly at Nurse Zhang and Nurse Zhao, who were standing nearby.
“The flowers… they have already bloomed,” Yiqing said slowly and carefully. “I didn’t see them open… so I am unhappy.”
She was still unable to speak in long, complete sentences, but she could express herself clearly by speaking one word or short phrase at a time.
Prince Gong, who visited often and knew his daughter well, understood exactly what she meant. “You’re upset because you missed the exact moment the flowers opened? That is easily solved. I’ll order the Imperial Household Department to bring two potted flowers that haven’t bloomed yet into the Palace of Compassion and Peace. We’ll have people keep watch over them day and night, and the moment the petals begin to unfold, they will come and fetch you. Then you’ll be sure to see it happen.”
“No,” Yiqing shook her head. She thought it was far too much trouble to assign people just to watch flowers bloom.
Prince Gong carried her in his arms as they began walking back toward the palace. “Very well, very well. Then I will send someone to find the most skilled gardeners in the capital. They know exactly when every type of flower will open. They can tell us the right time, and you can come and watch them then.”
Yiqing had only been watching the flowers out of boredom, and she really did not want to go to such lengths. Worried that her father would come up with even more elaborate plans, she spoke up quickly to change the subject.
“Father… did you come here to pay your respects?”
“Of course I did,” Prince Gong replied naturally. “I came to greet the Grand Empress Dowager and the Empress Dowager. Now tell me, have you been eating well these past few days? You look just as thin as ever; I don’t think you’ve gained any weight at all.”
“I have… I ate lots and lots.”
When they returned to the palace, Prince Gong stayed for a while longer to chat with the two elderly ladies before taking his leave. There were many important matters requiring attention at court these days, and he was not as free from duties as he used to be. He had made this visit primarily to see Yiqing and pay his respects to his elders, and now that he had done so, he was ready to depart.
Her father had gone, but there was still plenty of time before nightfall. Yiqing went into the main hall and brought out her toys.
She had a large wooden chest filled with all kinds of playthings, and beside it was a smaller box which held more delicate and intricate items.
Yiqing took out a set of ceramic rabbit figurines. There were two larger rabbits and six smaller ones, specially crafted by the artisans of the Imperial Household Department’s kilns for the two young princesses to enjoy. Yiqing had received the rabbits, while her younger sister had been given a matching set of small ceramic dogs.
Seeing how fond the two princesses were of these toys, the chief steward of the Imperial Household Department had already given orders to make several more sets during the next firing. There were very few young children in the imperial household at present, and opportunities to win their favour and affection were always welcome.
Yiqing arranged the rabbits carefully on the floor, placing the two larger ones at the front facing the six smaller ones behind them. She imagined that the two in front were strict teachers, while the six behind were poor, obedient students who would be scolded and reprimanded immediately if they showed the slightest lack of attention during lessons.
Perhaps living as a child had reawakened a sense of innocence and imagination within her, or perhaps she simply had nothing better to do to pass the time. Even though she lived as a princess, life in the palace could never compare to the convenience and entertainment of the modern world, with its endless digital resources. In this quiet, simple environment, Yiqing found herself able to lose herself completely in simple games of make-believe, enjoying every moment of them.
The Empress Dowager had gone to her chambers to rest, while the Grand Empress Dowager sat reading a book in her armchair. From time to time, she would look up and watch Yiqing sitting on the carpet playing with her rabbits. She had raised two daughters of her own long ago, but neither of them had ever been interested in such gentle toys; they had preferred bows, arrows, and wooden toy horses instead.
As she played, Yiqing imagined countless stories and adventures involving her little rabbit family.
Outside, a soft breeze began to blow, sweeping dark clouds across the sky and turning what had been a bright, clear day grey and gloomy.
A palace maid came rushing in from outside, moving almost as fast as she could run. Running was strictly forbidden within the palace grounds, as it was considered improper and disrespectful, so anyone who ran in such a way was clearly bringing news of a major crisis.
Hearing the sound of hurried footsteps, the Grand Empress Dowager felt her heart sink with sudden dread.
“Your Majesty,” the maid cried out, too breathless and anxious to stop and perform the proper formalities of greeting. “It is Her Majesty the Empress… she has gone into premature labour!”