“The Emperor said he would never favor anyone above the Imperial Noble Consort in this lifetime…”
Tongjia Clan’s words carried a hint of playful reproach, yet her face bore a graceful smile as she acquiesced, “Hurry back now—it’s almost midnight, and the firecrackers are about to be set off.”
Under the guidance of Gu Wenxing and Talu, Anning returned to the Hall of Supreme Harmony. True enough, outside the dragon corridor of the great hall, the firecracker-lighting ceremony had already begun.
She hurried back and spotted Soni in the crowd at a glance. He stood beside the Emperor along with the other ministers.
Soni didn’t notice Anning, but Soongoo, not far behind him and chatting with others, was staring straight at her.
When he saw that she had finally spotted him, he abruptly raised his hand and grinned, waving.
Anning waved back cheerfully with all her might, though inwardly she mused: This is the first time I’ve seen Second Uncle behave so properly.
She ascended the steps, and when she looked up, Third Prince was standing at the top.
He was dressed in formal attire today—a deep navy robe that nearly melted into the night, making his face appear especially pale, his pupils dark and deep. A dark gold sash was tied at his waist to mark his status.
Anning quickened her pace up the stairs, and just as she drew near, Third Prince reached out and pulled her up.
“When do they start?”
The words had barely left her lips when the crackling pop-pop-pop of firecrackers erupted. Anning let out a startled “Ah!” and shrank her neck, blinking.
Suddenly, her ears grew warm as his figure drew close.
—He had covered her ears with his hands.
Anning tilted her little face up to look at him and saw the dancing firelight reflected in his eyes.
She mimicked him, rising onto her tiptoes to cover his ears in turn.
He smiled softly, rubbing her ear with his palm, his wrist brushing against her cheek. “I’m not afraid.”
Third Prince indeed rarely smiled. This smile was like snow melting from a mountain, like a spring breeze brushing one’s face.
Anning realized belatedly that the smile she’d previously called “a smile like a villain’s” had merely been him quirking his lips awkwardly—no wonder it never looked genuine.
She couldn’t help but laugh too.
His smile faded. “What are you grinning about?”
The firecrackers were too loud to hear clearly, but judging by the shape of his mouth, he wasn’t saying anything nice.
Anning puffed out her cheeks and bumped her fuzzy head against his neck.
After the firecrackers finished, Anning returned to Cining Palace without staying for the sacrificial rites at Kunning Palace. She hadn’t eaten her fill, but fortunately the imperial kitchen still had plenty of dishes. Talu spent some silver to have two of Anning’s favorite plates sent over as a midnight snack.
Talu lifted the curtain and entered carrying the food box, only to find the Princess gazing at herself in a mirror. “Talu, have I really gained weight? My mother said my face looks like a steamed bun.”
“How could there be such a lovely bun?” Talu opened the food box and laid out the dishes. “I’d almost want to take a bite myself.”
“Take a closer look.”
“Let me see.”
Talu set things down, pretended to study her for a moment, then suppressed a smile. “The Princess has rounded out a bit.”
Seeing that she was about to get upset, she added, “But she’s also grown prettier.”
“Face full like the moon, eyes bright as lotus stars.” Talu was a household-born servant of the Hesheri family, having studied writing under the family head since childhood—she had some learning in her.
“Ah?” Anning’s eyes went wide. “Is my face really as round as the moon?”
“It’s beautiful, it’s lovely.” Talu held up the bronze mirror. “The moon palace houses the goddess Chang’e, and the moon is the finest sight of the night—how could it not be beautiful?”
This wasn’t entirely flattery.
Talu had carefully observed the Hesheri Princess’s features. Though she was still young, her brows and eyes were anything but ordinary.
Fair as snow, bright as stars.
Upon closer look, her cheeks were full and radiant, glowing like jade, fresh as orchid sprouts, her expression pure and luminous, dazzling to behold.
Anning was pleased by the praise and picked out two valuable pieces of jewelry from her own case, saying with a touch of pride, “Here, take them. They’re not from the palace, so if you don’t like them, you can exchange them for silver outside.”
Talu accepted them with a wry smile and shook her head helplessly. “Princess…” You’re far too easy to please, and far too generous with your hands.
With her mood lifted, Anning’s appetite returned.
The midnight snacks were all her favorites:
Braised cherry pork, stewed until tender, salty with a hint of sweetness, rich yet not greasy;
Chicken slices in egg-white sauce, made by grinding chicken breast into a fine paste, mixed with egg whites and reshaped, stir-fried in stock with tender pea shoots—so fresh it made one’s tongue tingle;
The last dish was a simple vegetable—cabbage hearts stir-fried and drizzled with red lees sauce, sprinkled with goji berries and shredded shiitake mushrooms, tangy and appetizing.
She couldn’t eat it all, so she mixed some of the dishes into her rice and ate it with a spoon. The untouched dishes she bestowed upon the eunuchs and maids in the room.
Talu was Anning’s personal maid and usually ate much the same as her, so she didn’t need this extra portion. She carried it out for the other eunuchs and maids to share.
These eunuchs and maids normally lived north of Jingshan outside the palace. Though the palace provided meals, when they were on duty and couldn’t leave, they had to bring food from their lodgings to eat in the palace.
Now that it was New Year, there was much to do in the palace, and with the bitter cold, the food the on-duty eunuchs and maids brought could only be briefly warmed in the kitchen—naturally not as good as freshly cooked dishes.
The maids fared somewhat better—
The palace maids in the Forbidden City came from better backgrounds—all were daughters of the Eight Banners or families of the imperial bondservants. Most families sent their daughters into the palace merely to learn proper etiquette and gain experience, thereby raising their own status. After all, having served in the palace was something to boast about, and it could lead to a good marriage match in the future.
When on duty, if one had money to spare, she could even buy hot meals from the Imperial Kitchen.
The eunuchs, however, were a different matter. Who would willingly send their own child into the palace to become a eunuch? Only those too poor to survive would undergo castration and enter the palace to eke out a living.
Thus, eunuchs in the palace were worth little, while maids were considered precious. No matter how the masters punished them with their soft knives, they could not harm a maid’s body—especially not strike her face.
Talu carried the food out, and the eunuchs gathered around her the fastest. “These are all clean—the young lady never touched her chopsticks. Poor things, you have to keep watch tonight, so you must eat your fill and stay warm.”
Hearing their chorus of thanks, Talu smiled again and said, “It’s New Year’s. The young lady plans to prepare some bonus money for you, but you must not slack off. Even on this last night, you need to stay on your toes.”
The eunuchs agreed enthusiastically, their faces beaming with joy.
When Third Prince returned, Anning was cutting red paper and stuffing bits of silver into it.
“For the servants?” he asked.
Anning nodded. “My mother said that if you treat your servants well, they will serve you with greater devotion. Though master and servant cannot be friends, there should still be a bond of goodwill between them.”
“Why have you come back? Are you staying here to rest tonight?”
Third Prince shook his head. “I need to keep vigil tonight. I can only return to the princes’ quarters to rest once dawn breaks.” He picked up the scissors and joined her in cutting paper. “Lady Tongjia reported to the Empress Dowager that your soul is fragile and you must not observe the sacrificial rites. I came back to check on you, but I’ll have to leave again soon.”
Anning broke into a smile. “I’m perfectly fine!”
“But can you stay awake? What if you get sleepy? You’ll definitely get hungry in the middle of the night. Are you keeping vigil with the Emperor? I suppose you can’t eat in front of others.”
As she spoke, she bustled about eagerly, taking out a newly sewn sachet. “Let me pack you some good things to eat. Eat them secretly—don’t let anyone see you.”
Before Third Prince could even speak, she had already chattered on at length, her hands never stopping as she packed the sachet full. She was like a diligent little bee, busily gathering nectar.
He watched her small figure bustling back and forth, nodding continuously.
Anning: “Don’t just stare at me—say something!”
Third Prince paused for a moment. “Thank you?”
“…” Anning looked into his eyes and suddenly asked, “Third Brother, am I pretty?”
Third Prince was speechless, but he seriously swept his gaze over her. “Pretty.”
So there was a reason he was always staring at her—she was pretty, so of course he would!
Anning felt quite pleased with herself, cutting the paper with extra vigor. Then she turned to idle chatter. “At the New Year’s banquet, there was a consort who fainted. Was she ill?”
“She’s with child.”
Anning’s cutting hand froze. “With child?” She knew that “with child” meant pregnant—having a little baby in her belly.
Third Prince nodded. “She’s over two months along. The mutton was too gamey, and the consort couldn’t stomach it—the smell made her faint. The imperial physician took her pulse and said she’s healthy, with nothing to worry about.”
She felt dazed, as if it weren’t quite real, and remained puzzled. “How did she get pregnant?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“I’ve heard people say that the Emperor regards Imperial Noble Consort as the love of his life, and that he said she would be the only one for him. Was that just a rumor?”
Third Prince’s expression hesitated. “It’s not a rumor. The Emperor did say those words.”
“Then he doesn’t keep his word.” Anning pursed her lips. “I thought that after meeting Imperial Noble Consort, the Emperor wouldn’t favor any other consorts anymore.”
“If I were Imperial Noble Consort, I don’t know how heartbroken I would be.” As she spoke, she felt sad on Imperial Noble Consort’s behalf—her child had been lost too.
Third Prince was initially puzzled, but as he listened, understanding gradually dawned. His gaze settled quietly on her face.
When she finished speaking, he spoke softly, his tone resolute:
“You would never be her.”
Author’s note:
Here we are.