At the beginning of the fifteenth year of Kangxi’s reign, the Empress’s second son, the Fourth Prince, reached his one-month milestone. The Emperor personally bestowed upon him the name Yinji. The young Crown Prince held his younger brother’s tiny hand, smiling with radiant joy. The court officials watched this scene with immense gratification; with the Crown Prince flourishing and the Fourth Prince healthy, the future of the Great Qing was secure.
After the banquet concluded, while the Emperor took the Crown Prince to the Qianqing Palace, Li Mu took little Yinji to the Jingren Palace to visit the Noble Consort.
The Noble Consort’s chambers remained shrouded in a deathly stillness. The candles were unlit, and few servants moved about. Occasional bouts of coughing echoed through the gloom. When Li Mu arrived, a look of profound shock crossed Niohuru’s face. “Your Majesty… why have you come?”
“Can I not come?” Li Mu frowned, unable to stand the sight. “If any servant is being insolent, tell me, and I shall deal with them.”
Niohuru smiled faintly. “Your Majesty jokes. I am, after all, a Noble Consort. Even if my health is failing, no one would dare bully me.”
Then why are you living in such a mess? Li Mu wanted to say, but she knew that a person so gravely ill rarely had the heart for vanity. She stated her purpose directly: “I can roughly guess what you did. Come, look at Yinji.”
Li Mu signaled the wet nurse to hand the infant to Niohuru. Looking at the tender babe, Niohuru asked in surprise, “Your Majesty, what is the meaning of this?”
“I am letting you see your future nephew-in-law.” Li Mu had already decided; she disliked owing debts. She couldn’t control her eldest son’s marriage, but she could direct her younger son’s future however she pleased. It didn’t matter which clan a Prince married into, and the Niohuru family’s status was perfect for Yinji.
As for whether bringing her infant to a sickroom would harm him, Li Mu wasn’t worried. The Noble Consort suffered from a congenital ailment that wasn’t contagious, and more importantly, Li Mu had a wealth of healing medicines in her Space; she had long ago fortified her son’s body.
The Noble Consort gazed closely at the child in the swaddling clothes and said softly, “Since this is Your Majesty’s decision, I shall not fail your kind intentions.”
A Primary Consort position for a legitimate Prince was exactly what she wanted for her clan. With the Empress’s word, she could depart in peace, knowing her family would wholeheartedly support the Crown Prince.
Li Mu headed back as dusk fell. From a distance, she saw the Kunning Palace brilliantly lit. She was surprised; why were Xuelian and the others being so wasteful with the candles?
The child in her arms was sleeping sweetly. Li Mu poked his cheek before Nanny Zhou carefully carried the little Prince away. “Your Majesty, let us go inside.”
Li Mu walked into the West Warm Pavilion, only to find the Emperor and the Crown Prince standing by the window. She arched an eyebrow. “I greet Your Majesty. Are you and the Crown Prince waiting for me and Yinji?”
Hadn’t he said he was going to the Qianqing Palace to teach the Crown Prince the art of kingship? She thought she’d have some free time, but it seemed he was playing a trick on her.
“I am waiting for the Empress. I wasn’t waiting for Yinji. As for the Crown Prince, he insisted on coming with me; he refused to stay and read the memorials,” Kangxi said righteously.
Expecting a child barely over a year old to read memorials—the Emperor had to be joking. Li Mu found she truly couldn’t understand him sometimes. Seeing Yinreng’s longing gaze, she beckoned, “Yinreng, come to your Imperial Mother.”
Yinreng trotted over obediently, his little steps wobbling in a way that terrified his attendants. Encouraged by his mother, he happily buried himself in Li Mu’s embrace.
As Li Mu teased the boy, little Yinreng turned red with shyness. Kangxi, feeling ignored, couldn’t help but grumble, “I feel that since the Empress finished her postpartum confinement, she has been ignoring me at every turn.”
Li Mu felt a bit guilty as she set the little Crown Prince down. She couldn’t really be blamed; once she realized her goal was within reach, she had naturally slackened. Sometimes she just wasn’t in the mood for romance. But the Emperor was right; she was going to spend a lifetime in this world. What was the difference between true and feigned affection to her?
In this world, the Emperor was her husband.
She put on a sweet smile. “How could I ignore Your Majesty? It is only that Your Majesty is so devoted to state affairs. I simply do not wish to disturb you. Being a supportive wife means letting the Emperor focus on the empire.”
Kangxi pondered this for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Mu’er is right. It is I who have neglected you and the children. From now on, I will come often to accompany you, the Crown Prince, and Yinji.”
The concubines had mostly been demoted, and he didn’t intend to hold new selections. It was only right to spend his free time with Mu’er. Besides, they were the original husband and wife; who could question their bond?
Li Mu realized she might have shot herself in the foot. She had hoped the Emperor would look after the Crown Prince so she could study medicine while the nannies watched Yinji. But now it seemed the Emperor planned to stick to her side like glue.
Still, it wasn’t a bad outcome. Looking at Kangxi’s handsome face, she gave a genuine smile. “Then I shall look forward to Your Majesty’s presence.”
Kangxi smiled. “Of course. But Mu’er should change how she addresses me.”
“How would you like me to call you?” Li Mu asked, curious.
“Call me Xuanye.”
Li Mu was startled, but she said softly, “Xuanye.”
Suddenly, it felt as though they had truly become a real husband and wife.
The days passed. By the end of the month, the Noble Consort passed away. Li Mu personally ordered a grand funeral, conducting it with the rites of an Imperial Noble Consort.
The remaining concubines in the palace were like tortoises hiding in their shells; no one dared to speak up or compete for favor. The recent purges were fresh in their minds; they feared that any attempt to snatch the Emperor’s attention would lead to their destruction by the Empress.
With the high-ranking consorts dealt with, the low-born women knew they stood no chance. Self-preservation became the priority. The atmosphere of the palace turned remarkably clear. Even the ministers in the capital were no longer eager to send their daughters into the palace.
Furthermore, with the Empress’s position unshakeable, what was the point of sending daughters? It was better to hope for the Crown Prince to grow up. Even if the Crown Prince were to fall, there was still the Fourth Prince.
Thus, without the interference of concubines and with the Emperor’s focus on the Empress and the legitimate heirs, even the Grand Empress Dowager turned a blind eye to the situation. Li Mu frequently took the children to visit the two elders to cultivate family bonds, which was how she often saw the Third Princess, Magiya’s daughter.
The girl was innocent and her eyes lit up whenever she saw the Crown Prince, calling him “Second Brother.” Li Mu would pat her head; the child called her “Imperial Mother,” and she couldn’t bring herself to blame the daughter for the mother’s sins. If she could, she would have liked to raise the girl herself. However, she worried that someone might later provoke the child, claiming her biological mother’s death was linked to the Empress. She had heard that the Eldest Prince, Yinti, would even mutter Yinreng’s name with hatred in his sleep. She had to be careful.
“Imperial Mother,” Li Mu said to the Empress Dowager, “the Third Princess calls me ‘Imperial Mother.’ Though I am not her birth mother, I am her legal mother and responsible for her. The Emperor has only this one daughter; do you intend for her to stay in the capital or be sent for a Mongolian alliance?”
In the original history, a princess was often kept in the capital if there were many daughters. But with only one, the decision was weightier. The Empress Dowager hesitated. She loved the granddaughter she was raising, but she also knew the political importance of such alliances.
“Let me think on it more,” the Empress Dowager sighed.
Li Mu didn’t press the issue. Her primary concerns were the Eldest Prince, Yinti, and the Third Prince, Yinzhi.
If the “Four Consorts” were gone and the Emperor had lost interest in others, many Princes would never be born. Yinti and Yinzhi, despite being sons of concubines, were now extremely prominent. As the Empress, she couldn’t touch them directly without attracting suspicion.
She decided to remain a “good wife” and “good mother,” leaving Yinreng and Yinji to deal with their brothers. If she had cleared most of the path and Yinreng still couldn’t succeed, then she would simply admit defeat.
She spent the following years studying medicine, preparing for her next world. She also worked on her relationship with the Emperor. She would handle the husband, and Yinreng would handle the siblings. It was a perfect plan.
Over the years, she began to show her true personality to the Emperor. Fortunately, he indulged her. In the eyes of outsiders, the love between the Emperor and Empress was a match made in heaven.
Even the Grand Empress Dowager gave up on advising her grandson. With the Crown Prince and several great-grandsons thriving, and a filial Empress, she was content.
In the seventeenth year of Kangxi, Yinreng turned five and entered the Palace School to begin his formal education. A few years later, Yinzhi and Yinji followed.
To show the Crown Prince’s status, Kangxi built the Yuqing Palace as the Eastern Palace for Yinreng, while the other Princes lived in the regular quarters.
Yinzhi was fine with this, having grown up there, but Yinji—the pampered legitimate son—felt heartbroken to be away from his mother and his “Big Brother” Yinreng.
Yinzhi, considering himself the Fourth Prince’s older brother, tried to set an example. His health was decent but his martial skills were lacking, so instead of showing off sports, he showed off his specialty: memorizing texts! He would sway his head and recite books before Yinji, who watched with adoration.
The Eldest Prince, Yinti, hated this. Whenever Yinzhi recited, he would snort in disdain. What was the use of being a bookworm if you were physically weak?
Before he could mock them, it was time for a break. The Crown Prince would smile and bring out his food box. The dishes weren’t fancy—they were made by his Imperial Mother—but that sentiment was worth more than a thousand imperial delicacies.
Little Yinji, at first not realizing the source, complained that the palace chefs were getting worse and traded his food with Yinzhi. The Crown Prince saw this and said nothing, letting it become a habit. He admitted he was being petty; it was one thing for Yinji to be a picky eater, but he shouldn’t waste their Imperial Mother’s heart. If he didn’t want it, he wouldn’t get it anymore.
When Yinji finally found out the truth, he was close to tears. But by then, Yinzhi had grown accustomed to the “motherly” taste of the food and found it far better than his own soulless imperial meals.
When Yinzhi tried to trade again, Yinji refused. “Third Brother, let me sing you a song instead…”
“Maybe next time, Fourth Brother. I’m hungry,” Yinzhi said, pushing his box over and reaching for Yinji’s.
Yinji covered his box tightly. “Third Brother, let’s not trade. I like mine today.”
Yinzhi was confused. “But I’m used to yours now.”
Yinti, the Eldest Prince, couldn’t stand it. He stood up, snatched the box Yinji was protecting, and gave his own to Yinzhi. “Since you’re fighting over a box, I’ll just eat it!”
He was fast. While his brothers stared, he shoveled the food into his mouth. After finishing, he remarked, “This isn’t even that good. My kitchen staff are better.”
Yinji looked at his empty box and then at Yinti’s full one. His nose crinkled, and tears welled up. “Big Brother is mean! That was made by Imperial Mother, and I haven’t even had a bite!”
His mother had made it especially for him, and he had wasted her heart before. Now that he knew, he couldn’t even have a bite because Yinti ate it all—and then called it bad!
He started sobbing. Yinti froze. He didn’t like the Empress or the Crown Prince, but he hadn’t meant to make his little brother cry. “Don’t cry! I’ll pay you back!”
“Truly?” Yinji looked at him with red eyes.
“Truly,” Yinti grumbled. He would just have to ask the Empress for another portion.
“Can you get one for me too?” Yinzhi whispered. He had never eaten anything his own mother cooked; he was so envious of the Crown Prince and Yinji.
Seeing the expectant eyes of his two younger brothers and the mocking look from the Crown Prince, Yinti’s frustration peaked. “Fine! I am a man of my word!”
But as a nine-year-old, he didn’t know how to ask the Empress. He only saw her during formal greetings. A servant suggested he ask the Third Princess, who was close to the Empress.
Yinti’s eyes lit up. He hurried to the Cining Palace to find his sister. But he didn’t realize the Empress was there visiting the Empress Dowager. He finished explaining his request to the Princess, only to turn around and see the Empress’s faint smile.
The Princess bowed and teased, “Imperial Mother, I shall take my leave.”
“Very well.” Li Mu’s gaze landed on Yinti. He stiffened like a hedgehog. She didn’t want to provoke him. “If you like my cooking, I shall make some for you.”
Li Mu didn’t try to soften him or anger him. If he wanted to eat, she would cook.
“I… I thank Imperial Mother.” Yinti lowered his head, unable to look at her. He followed her back to the Kunning Palace and watched her cook with her own hands, packing two portions into boxes for him.
“Go on now, don’t be late for school,” Li Mu said gently.
Yinti hurried away as if escaping a fire.
Xuelian asked, “Why be so kind to him? He isn’t respectful.”
“It’s fine as it is,” Li Mu replied. Her “surface-level” kindness had already won over the Third Princess. Being a good legal mother was a habit now.
Back at the school, Yinti distributed the food to his brothers and sat in silence. He hadn’t expected the Empress to be so kind to him despite his disrespect. He was at an age where he was starting to understand things. He wasn’t born heartless. Seeing her cook for him, a son of a concubine, touched a chord in his heart.
He wasn’t actually that hateful toward the Empress. His birth mother had died because she tried to harm the Empress—that was a hurdle he couldn’t get over. And the Crown Prince always targeted him because of it.
But the Empress was innocent; she had nearly died of a hemorrhage. And the Crown Prince would have lost his mother because of Yinti’s mother’s schemes.
He sighed heavily. Yinti, you are a future Bahutu (warrior) of the Great Qing. Why hesitate over a small matter? If she doesn’t hate you, just be better to her.
As for the Crown Prince… he ground his teeth. That kid always mocks me. I’m still not going to be friends with Yinreng!
The next day, Yinti accepted his brothers’ praise with pride. Yinreng asked in disbelief, “How did you trick Imperial Mother into this?”
“Trick? My sincerity moved her!” Yinti sneered. “Did you think she only cooked for you and Yinji? Yinzhi and I are also her children. She is impartial!”
“Lies! She loves me and Yinji the most!” Yinreng snapped.
“You just won’t admit it! We are her sons too!”
Yinti was delighted to see the Crown Prince lose his cool. It felt good to “win” for once.
Yinreng felt a sense of crisis. He had to fight for his mother’s favor!
But with two more competitors, it was hard. Yinzhi used his cute looks, and Yinti brought the Empress gifts and acted as the “tsundere” son. Li Mu praised Yinti more and more.
Yinreng was busy with state affairs and had to watch his brothers grow close to his mother. He sent little Yinji to separate them, but Yinji was always lured away by the others with toys or food.
The only positive development was that Yinti’s temper toward Yinreng improved. He no longer fought for the throne as fiercely. When ministers approached him to suggest he, as the eldest, should take the position, he was no longer polite to them. He seemed focused on living happily and finding gifts for the Empress.
It was as if he had a new goal in life. Yinreng was puzzled, but he didn’t mind—as long as they didn’t steal his mother!
Years later, Yinti married the daughter of Minister Kelkun and had a daughter, living a content life.
The fog of his childhood had cleared. His mother had once nagged him to be better than every other prince, but she was gone. The Emperor had continued to value him, and the Empress had never taken out her resentment on him. He realized the throne wasn’t his greatest desire; a peaceful home and family were. He treated the Empress as his own mother. He wouldn’t fight Yinreng; why let the Crown Prince mock him for failing?
Yinzhi, born frail, had never had the heart for the struggle. He had long considered the Empress his true mother. He preferred traveling with Yinji and playing pranks on Yinji’s cousins. He married the daughter of Duke Penchun and lived a leisurely life.
Yinji, the legitimate son, married the daughter of the late Noble Consort’s brother, Faka, and “laid flat,” intending to be a carefree Prince. His brother was going to be the Emperor anyway!
History had shifted. The Princes who would have sparked the “Nine Lords’ Dethronement” struggle had no interest in it. Yinreng’s position remained unshakable.
As for the Emperor, under Li Mu’s daily influence, he truly saw Yinreng as his son. And Yinreng, coached by his mother, never failed to show his father filial devotion.
The succession was only a matter of time.