“Don’t let anyone see it.”
As the year drew to a close, two days before the New Year’s banquet, Anning had roughly finished embroidering a handkerchief and specially brought it to show Third Prince.
After looking at it, Third Prince praised, “This little pig in light yellow is embroidered so lifelike.”
Anning bristled: “It’s Linu!”
“…”
The servants in the room either laughed openly or stifled their amusement, leaving her thoroughly embarrassed.
She refused to acknowledge Third Prince until mealtime. Only when the Empress Dowager asked did she learn the reason, and after unfolding the handkerchief, she laughed for a long while. “Your skill isn’t good, so why blame others?”
At this, Anning flushed with shame and frustration, snatched up the little handkerchief and stuffed it back haphazardly. “I—I can still embroider better!”
After the meal, she traced out many patterns, determined to pick the prettiest one to embroider.
Third Prince thought she was overly competitive. “There’s no need to be so diligent. The consorts in the palace usually embroider small trinkets to gift the Emperor, but in truth, they have the servants do the embroidery, and at the end, they add a few stitches themselves—that still counts as their work.”
Though women were expected to learn needlework and embroidery, in his view, these things were manual labor. As long as she knew how to hold a needle and make a few stitches to put on a show, that was enough. She wasn’t here to do hard labor.
Anning was surprised. “It can be done that way? Doesn’t the Emperor know?”
Third Prince flipped through the patterns on the table. The cluster of lashes at the corner of his eye was especially straight and long. Because his expressions were few, no matter when or where one looked at him, he always appeared calm and composed:
“Perhaps he knows, perhaps he doesn’t—he wouldn’t care.”
From the sound of it, the consorts didn’t seem to love the Emperor much, and the Emperor didn’t care about them either.
Anning let out a serious sigh, pulled out her handkerchief, and handed it to him. “Then take this. Though it’s not pretty, I stitched it with my own needle and thread.”
Third Prince was taken aback. “What a coincidence—I have something for you too.”
“What is it! What is it!”
Xiao Gongzi brought out the item: two gold hairpins inlaid with cat’s eye gemstones, wrapped carefully in white silk handkerchiefs. They were made of pure gold and precious amber-colored cat’s eye stones—extremely valuable.
Anning couldn’t bear to put them down. “I love them. Thank you, Third Brother.”
Third Prince looked at the pig-like embroidery on the handkerchief and folded it neatly. “At the banquet the day after tomorrow, you should have fine head ornaments befitting a young lady. I’m glad you like them.”
“I like everything you give me!” Anning was very good at flattery, picking out all the sweetest words to say. “I knew Third Brother cared about me the most. I’ll embroider two more handkerchiefs right away—this time I’ll definitely do a good job!”
“Never mind that.” Third Prince knew her sweet words cost nothing, coming one after another without a thought, but he still took her little hand and turned it over to look at it a few times.
Her fingertips were smooth and fresh, soft as cotton.
“You’re the one who said no.” Sure enough, she was one to take advantage of an opening.
Third Prince smiled—not a smile of exasperation, nor one of amusement.
Anning didn’t care about his strange smile. She cupped his face in her hands, utterly fascinated. “Third Brother, when you smile, you look like a villain. Better not smile.”
“…” He brushed her hands away. “Then what are you?”
“I’m a sweet melon.” She beamed a sugary smile.
“Oh?” He suddenly reached out and pinched her cheek. Anning’s mouth was pulled open mid-speech, and drool spilled out.
She was horrified, her face burning red with shame as she covered her mouth and shouted, “What are you doing!”
Third Prince said, “A sweet melon indeed—squeeze it and water comes out.”
“…You’re out of your mind!” She was furious and reached to grab his face.
The two of them fooled around for a long while, and in the end, she couldn’t bear to scratch his face—she only touched it.
Anning grew tired and lay sprawled in Third Prince’s arms, falling into a deep sleep. He patted her back gently, removing the ornaments from her hair one by one and setting them on the kang table.
The parrot hadn’t been caged and now stood on the withered wooden stand. It half-spread its wing, waddling to the end of the perch, shook its long feathers, and clumsily hopped onto the kang table.
Third Prince gently stroked its head, and surprisingly, it stretched its neck out to let him.
“She’s taught you to be affectionate with people,” he murmured to himself.
The parrot stared at the little girl in his arms, but she had her head turned away from it, sleeping soundly in Third Prince’s embrace.
Before long, he too grew drowsy and leaned against the soft pillow to sleep.
Since returning to the palace, he rarely napped. Sensing the tranquil atmosphere and feeling sleepy—this was the first time.
The New Year’s banquet arrived.
The fabric bestowed by the Empress Dowager had been made into several new outfits by the Imperial Workshop. To mark the festive occasion, Anning chose a water-red qipao, and she wore the pair of cat’s eye gold hairpins Third Prince had given her, looking lovely.
“The bell hairpin bestowed by the Empress Dowager must also be worn—it’s a mark of favor,” Talu said, repositioning the bell hairpin.
“I know,” Anning said, examining herself in the mirror from left to right. “Do I look pretty?”
“The young lady is naturally beautiful beyond compare.” Talu covered her mouth with a giggle. In truth, a child of this age had little to do with beauty, but their young lady loved hearing such flattering words.
Anning was indeed satisfied upon hearing this. She looked at herself in the mirror, happily fiddling with the loose strands of hair on her forehead. “Today at the New Year’s banquet, my mother and the others will be coming to the palace. I haven’t seen them in such a long time.” Even as she said this, she felt a pang of longing.
“At the banquet, you must not run about freely. When it’s over, this servant will ask the Empress Dowager for permission to bring you to meet with the Madam.”
“Ah, there are so many rules in the palace.”
Anning grumbled a string of complaints.
Talu’s expression was light and cheerful. “Prince Xin of Duolu has returned in triumph, bringing good news. The court has won the war, and the Emperor has ordered relief for the people and reduced taxes in many regions… I’ve heard that all ministries have been commanded to solicit suggestions widely and improve governance.”
“With the new year beginning after the celebrations, everything should flourish,” she said with a joyful smile. “This pair of cat’s-eye gold hairpins was brought back by the Prince from Yunnan. All the good pieces together fill only one box. The Prince’s original New Year’s gift for the Third Prince wasn’t these—it was the Prince himself who specially exchanged them from the box.”
Anning was pleased to hear this, but a hint of pensiveness crept into her expression.
When the time came, Anning first went to the main hall to attend to the Empress Dowager and set out with her for the Hall of Supreme Harmony.
Spring couplets had already been pasted throughout the Forbidden City, and many eunuchs and palace maids were sweeping the palace paths.
The Empress Dowager traveled by sedan chair, while Anning, holding Talu’s hand, walked alongside it. After walking for a while, she grew cold and instinctively tucked her hands into her sleeves, clutching her hand warmer tightly.
“How are the preparations for the shamanic rites at the Palace of Earthly Tranquility?”
Anning lifted her small face and glanced over.
Sumalagu’s voice was serene. “Empress Dowager, the shamanic rituals are nearly ready. They will officially begin once the firecrackers are set off after the banquet ends.”
Although the Manchus had now absorbed many of the previous dynasty’s celebratory activities—such as ancestor worship, staying up on New Year’s Eve, pasting spring couplets, setting off firecrackers, and eating reunion dinners—Manchu customs had not been abandoned.
Anning had witnessed a shamanic ritual before. It was strange and mystical, and as a child, it had frightened her so badly that she had nightmares all night. Her mother had invited someone to the residence to examine her, saying her soul was light and easily drawn away. That person had “called her soul back” beside her bed for seven days before she fully recovered.
Recalling these memories, she respectfully declined to have anything to do with shamanic rituals. She resolved not to watch this so-called deity-worshipping ceremony later.
Before long, they arrived at the Hall of Supreme Harmony and happened to encounter the Emperor and the Imperial Noble Consort arriving together from the other side.
Anning stepped forward to pay her respects according to protocol.
Before the Emperor could speak, the Imperial Noble Consort cheerfully bade Anning to rise, then offered her greetings to the Empress Dowager.
The Empress Dowager waited until the Imperial Noble Consort had completed the full formal obeisance before leisurely telling her to rise. She raised her hand to descend from the sedan chair, and the Imperial Noble Consort, as her daughter-in-law, dutifully attended to her. She served the Empress Dowager as a palace maid would serve a superior, without a trace of resentment—gentle, obedient, and filial.
The smile on the Emperor’s face gradually faded.
Anning dared not stare too obviously. In fact, this was the first time she had clearly seen the Emperor’s countenance.
The Third Prince’s brows and eyes bore a two-part resemblance to his. When the Emperor was not smiling, the resemblance grew to three parts.
The Third Prince’s composure was more of calmness and steadiness, while the Emperor’s composure carried an extra hint of coldness. After all, the Emperor was the Emperor—his authority was immense, and when he did not smile, there was something rather intimidating about him.
As they entered the Hall of Supreme Harmony, the eunuch announced their arrival, and a large swath of people in the hall rose to their feet in a rustle. No formal bows were required—all present simply lowered their heads and offered greetings.
Anning scanned the crowd and spotted Tongjia Clan precisely among the women’s seating. Dressed in court attire, she kept looking in this direction. When mother and daughter’s eyes met, both burst with excitement.
Tongjia Clan covered her mouth with a handkerchief, her eyes rimmed with red.
“Don’t cry, don’t cry, Gege—don’t let anyone see,” Talu repeatedly urged in a low, urgent whisper as she led her to her seat.
Anning held back her tears and wiped her eyes.
Author’s Note:
Here we are.