“Didn’t your mother tell you to enter the palace…”
Anning cried that she was hungry, and Third Prince took her to the main hall for a meal.
The moment the two entered, they heard Empress Dowager reading a memorial aloud, discussing the war in the southwest region. The Emperor had appointed Prince Xin of Duolu as Grand General to lead the campaign against Yunnan:
“Fighting in the bitter cold is always more difficult—who knows if we’ll even get to enjoy a proper New Year.” Empress Dowager sighed. Seeing the two little ones come in, she called Third Prince over to look at the memorial.
Third Prince was only six this year, but this wasn’t his first time reading a memorial.
It was always Empress Dowager who showed them to him.
This was also the reason Anning thought Empress Dowager was formidable—after all, women of the imperial family were traditionally forbidden from meddling in politics, and at home, her mother rarely inquired about her father’s official affairs.
Anning couldn’t help but lean in to look. The memorial was a joint submission from Manchu and Han officials—Manchu script on the left, Chinese characters on the right.
Anning had never had trouble recognizing Chinese characters since childhood; her family had even praised her cleverness. But Manchu she could never master—it always felt stiff and incomprehensible.
She managed to stumble through the Chinese side, “If fighting in winter is so difficult, why not pick a warmer time? After the New Year, wouldn’t spring be just right for battle?”
Before Empress Dowager could respond, Third Prince turned around instead. “The campaign in Yunnan now is merely to recover lost territory and expand the nation’s borders. Opening hostilities in winter minimizes losses—spring is the critical season for farming. Attacking then would prevent both our side and the enemy from resting and recuperating; it would be excessively ruthless. If the goal were to slaughter the people of the southwest and destroy their livelihoods, then the speed of the methods would hardly matter.”
Empress Dowager nodded with a faint smile, saying nothing, and slowly folded the memorial shut.
Anning was stunned speechless. She pondered for a moment before grasping the meaning, then lifted her little face and beamed at him joyfully.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Third Brother, you’re so clever.”
“…”
Empress Dowager hid her smile. “Alright, you must both be hungry? Let’s eat.”
The evening meal was far simpler than the midday one. Anning perched at the edge of the table with only her head peeking above it. The dishes were varied, jade plates set side by side in abundance.
She spotted her favorite cold shredded chicken, but unfortunately it was cold, and Empress Dowager wouldn’t allow her to eat much of it.
The servants attended to the two young masters as they took their seats, and the favored eunuchs began serving the dishes.
Third Prince preferred lighter fare and enjoyed tofu, but since he’d already had tofu at midday, the imperial kitchen sent over a bowl of bird’s nest and shredded chicken congee—sweet and delicious.
He turned his head and saw Anning nibbling on a honey cake. He wasn’t much of a talker, but she certainly was—she hadn’t taken two bites before she was directing the attendants to fetch her whatever she wanted to eat.
When she found something tasty, she no longer wanted the honey cake in her hand.
Instead, she turned and asked if he wanted to try the honey cake.
Third Prince looked at the sorry little cake, its edges marked with her bite marks—no doubt her saliva was all over it. “…No.”
As they were eating, an elderly matron suddenly entered from outside. “Empress Dowager, the Imperial Noble Consort is gravely ill and had a quarrel with Consort Tong. Consort Tong is now being punished and made to kneel outside the Palace of Eternal Blessing.”
The words were abrupt and baffling. If the Imperial Noble Consort was gravely ill, how could she have quarreled with Consort Tong? Usually, being gravely ill meant being unconscious.
Moreover, Consort Tong seemed to be Third Prince’s birth mother.
Anning puzzledly bit her spoon and stole a glance at him.
Third Prince showed no reaction, merely setting down his chopsticks. His lowered eyelids made it impossible to tell his feelings; the candlelight flickered, casting shifting shadows across his face.
Empress Dowager’s expression was stone-cold as she sneered through her nose. “So she’s grown bold, has she? I sympathize with her loss of a son, but she cannot simply run wild! Where is the Empress?”
The matron’s face showed difficulty as she said softly, “Consort Tong’s maid went to the Palace of Eternal Spring to request an audience, but the Empress had already retired for the night. Her health has always been frail, and the maid dared not disturb her rest.”
Empress Dowager closed her eyes. “The Empress is far too weak—she can’t stand on her own. Otherwise, how could she be bullied to such a state?”
No one dared to respond.
“She’s slapping my face through Consort Tong. What audacity.” Empress Dowager rose, steadying herself on Sumalagu’s arm, her expression icy. “I’ll go see for myself just how ill Donggo truly is.”
This was a matter of the inner court—children could not easily get involved. Even Third Prince was kept in the Palace of Eternal Peace by Empress Dowager.
The evening meal had been tasteless. Talu attended to Anning’s bath.
In the mist-filled room, only the two of them remained. Whatever Anning asked, Talu dared to answer.
“Donggo was made Imperial Noble Consort just a month after entering the palace. Her favor surpassed all three palaces—no one could rival her. The Emperor once said she was the only one for him in this life, and he repeatedly tried to depose the Empress for her sake, only to be stopped by Empress Dowager.”
“When the Fourth Prince, born of the Imperial Noble Consort, came into the world, the Emperor wanted to name him Crown Prince. In the proclamation to Heaven and Earth and the edict to the realm, he called the Fourth Prince his first son—which left the elder princes utterly humiliated.”
“Given such circumstances, with the Imperial Noble Consort holding palace authority, and the Empress without favor or a son, she naturally had to keep out of the way.”
Anning propped up her small face, feeling gloomy. “No wonder Third Prince’s mother went to seek help, but the Empress is pretending to be asleep.”
Talu was surprised. “How does the young lady know the Empress is pretending to be asleep?”
“People in the palace love to put on airs,” Anning muttered. It wasn’t just the Empress—many were like that. She gave a snort. “Last time I went to the Upper Garden with Third Brother, I saw the Empress hunting on horseback. She shot two rabbits with one arrow. She’s clearly very strong, but that old nursemaid said the Empress was unwell. She can’t fool me!”
“You mustn’t say that out loud.” Talu quickly leaned in and covered her little mouth, her heart pounding with fright.
“Oh, I know.” Anning twisted her head and urged Talu to dry her hair. “But why did the Empress Dowager say the Imperial Noble Consort was slapping her in the face? Is it because Third Brother is being raised under the Empress Dowager’s care?”
Talu hesitated for a moment, glanced outside the room, and only when she confirmed there was no sound did she lower her voice. “The Fourth Prince died young and never became the Crown Prince. Some say it was the Empress Dowager… The Imperial Noble Consort may have believed it.”
“What?” Anning’s eyes immediately went wide.
“The Empress is the Empress Dowager’s grand-niece.” She wouldn’t want another woman’s child to become the Crown Prince. Moreover, the Imperial Noble Consort held all the Emperor’s favor. The Emperor had defied the Empress Dowager many times for her sake. The Empress Dowager had long regarded the Imperial Noble Consort as a thorn in her side.
Talu dared not say these words aloud. They turned around in her mind and were swallowed back down into her belly.
Anning was stunned into silence and didn’t speak again until after her bath.
The night grew deep, and snow continued to fall. The Empress Dowager still hadn’t returned, as if something major had happened.
Anning tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Talu sat by the bedside keeping watch. “Does the young lady need to use the chamber pot?”
“No…” Anning pouted and asked in a small voice, “Has Third Brother gone to sleep by now?”
Talu checked the time and shook her head. “The prince is diligent. It’s still early. I believe he hasn’t retired yet.”
So Anning dressed herself and tidied up, then let Talu take her hand to go find Third Prince.
Third Prince didn’t reside in Cining Palace, but in Shou’an Palace just one wall away. This was arranged so that the Emperor and consorts could visit easily without disturbing the Empress Dowager’s rest, while still allowing her to keep an eye on him.
As expected, the hall still had its lamps lit, and the faint sound of reading could be heard.
He had been studying all day and still didn’t feel tired.
Anning felt tired just thinking about it. She took two quick steps and entered through the door.
Gu Wenxing went in to announce them, then led the two inside.
“Mind your step, young lady,” the attending young eunuch reminded in a low voice.
Anning hummed in acknowledgment, eager to get inside.
Talu, however, took an extra look at him and realized this was the young eunuch whose life her young lady had pleaded to spare.
She had some memory of him. This eunuch was called Xiao Gongzi.
The hall was as bright as day. Third Prince was still wearing his stone-blue casual robes, which made his fair face look as white as snow, with patches of red marks scattered across it like red plum blossoms in the snow.
“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” he asked.
“I wanted to talk to you.” Her words sounded pitiful and pleading.
“…”
Gu Wenxing kept his head lowered, his face struggling to hold back a smile.
Third Prince set down his book, shot him a glare, and shooed everyone out.
Talu wasn’t entirely at ease, but her mistress wasn’t even looking at her—she was already clumsily climbing onto the prince’s small couch with her bottom sticking up.
Gu Wenxing nudged her arm, urging her to leave.
Only when the tall doors were shut tight did Gu Wenxing murmur with feeling, “The prince is only six, yet he’s very reserved and mature. The young lady speaks so directly that she often leaves the prince at a loss for words—it brings out a bit of liveliness befitting a child of five or six.”
Talu smiled and mulled over her reply. “The prince is wonderful no matter what.”
Only the two little ones remained inside.
Anning peeked at the items on the kang table. Several books lay there, and the one open for reading had a cover reading Zizhi Tongjian. “Third Brother, these are all difficult Chinese texts. Can you read them?”
Her word order was a bit odd, but it didn’t hinder understanding. “Aren’t you also speaking the Han people’s language? Can you read it?”
“I can read a little,” Anning wanted to be modest, but the corners of her brows couldn’t help showing off how clever she was. “My grandfather made the whole household learn it. Since I was born, my nursemaids and maidservants all spoke the Han people’s language. I can recognize all Chinese characters!”
Third Prince looked at her and nodded. “Since entering the pass, promoting the integration of Manchu and Han has been the top priority.”
Anning’s grandfather was Soni. Leading by example, he was the most cooperative.
“What about Manchu?”
“I can’t read it.”
“…” So confident and unashamed.
Since she entered the palace, she hadn’t flipped through a single book—she’d guessed as much.
No wonder when she looked at the memorials during dinner, she stumbled over the reading. So she could understand some of the Chinese characters, but was completely lost with Manchu.
“Third Brother has been back in the palace for less than two years, yet he already knows so many Chinese characters!”
Others wouldn’t dare bring up the days he spent outside the palace avoiding smallpox, but this person spoke of it without the slightest hesitation. It left him not knowing what to say. “Those two years I lived in a residence on North Long Street.”
Smallpox was fatal in those days—even royal family members could not escape death once infected. He had little standing to begin with, and no one cared about him at all. “After I contracted smallpox, several servants chose to jump into a well rather than attend to me. In the end, aside from my wet nurse, only a few Han people remained. Naturally, I heard Mandarin the most.”
He had been on the verge of death several times, never once thinking he would survive.
“Then we’re the same—I also speak more Mandarin.” She listened to his words without the slightest unease, propping her rosy cheek on her hand with a sweet smile, as if she had discovered something extraordinary.
Third Prince’s thoughts drifted away. He lifted his eyes and happened to meet her hand reaching toward him.
He instinctively leaned back, but then, as if something crossed his mind, he froze and did not move.
—He did not like others touching his face.
Aside from feeling that those faint red marks were unsightly, they also reminded him of how painful and agonizing those dark days alone on North Long Street had been.
Her soft fingers brushed across his face, landing precisely on the spot that itched slightly—the mark left behind after the pox had surfaced.
“Like rouge.”
“What?” Third Prince frowned slightly.
“I get sick often too. Mother said evil spirits wanted to take me away, but I didn’t want to go, so I clenched my fists and punched them all away. Every time I recovered, Mother would dot my forehead with rouge and say it was my medal.”
Anning touched the marks on his face, speaking naturally, “Third Brother’s face has medals too—anyone who sees them will know you’re very brave.”
This was a novel idea, the first time Third Prince had heard it. He wanted to hear every word again, and so for a long while he could not snap back to his senses, only instinctively gripping her hand tightly. “Thank you.”
Anning tried to pull her hand back but could not free it. She simply assumed he wanted to warm her hand, so she generously broke into a bright smile. “Don’t be so formal! Third Brother and I are the best of playmates!”
The atmosphere came to a halt.
Third Prince stared at her strangely, looking her over again and again. “When your mother sent you into the palace, did she not tell you what you were meant to do here?”
“She did! She said the princes in the palace were lonely and that I should come keep you company,” Anning said, rubbing her head before thinking and asking, “I suppose I count as a study companion?”
A difficult silence followed.
After a long while, he asked slowly, “A companion for Fourth Prince?”
Author’s note:
Here we go~