The Fiftieth Year of Kangxi’s Reign, Prince Yong’s Mansion
Fourth Princess Consort Ula Nara paced back and forth on the veranda, her steps hurried and anxious. She glanced towards the room from time to time, her handkerchief nearly crumpled to shreds in her hands.
“What a calamity, why is there still no movement?” Perhaps due to her good upbringing, even in her utmost anxiety, the hem of her exquisite butterfly-and-flower embroidered qipao skirt barely swayed.
It was as if the people inside heard her silent plea, for finally, there was movement. First came the maids’ exclamations, followed shortly by a woman’s cries of pain. Her voice was gentle and melodious; even the typically harsh and grating screams of childbirth, when uttered by her, sounded soft and pitiable, making one willing to grant her anything.
“The Master isn’t even here, what’s the use of crying out so prettily?” Li Shi, sitting to the side, curled her lips disdainfully and took a sip of her hot tea. “Who doesn’t suffer when giving birth? Even in this state, she’s still putting on an act. Besides, with the Master absent, who is she performing for?” So pretentious. No matter how sweet her cries, they wouldn’t move *their* hearts.
“Li Shi, you talk too much.” Her voice was loud enough to reach the Princess Consort’s ears. Ula Nara was already anxious, and seeing Li Shi sitting there so calmly only fueled her anger.
“If you have nothing better to do, you might as well pray more for the Master’s blessings.” Her tone was naturally sharp with rising irritation, but Li Shi was unafraid. She raised her eyes, brimming with tender affection, and gave a slight, provocative glance. “Princess Consort, this concubine has many children. The Master specifically instructed that I need only focus on taking good care of Hongshi and Hongyun.”
The Fulinjin, being weak-willed, clearly heard Lady Li’s veiled boasting. Trembling, she pointed at Lady Li, stammering, “You… you… you…” but couldn’t find the words to continue. It was Geng Gege, standing nearby, who stepped forward and said, “Fulinjin, please calm down. This is Sister Niohuru’s first childbirth, and we don’t know how much suffering she has endured. Let’s keep quiet.”
Geng Gege was not favored by the prince, and seeing Niohuru inside giving birth naturally filled her with envy. The prince had few surviving children, and only Lady Li, the side consort, had two healthy sons, which was why Lady Li dared to act so arrogantly in front of Ula Nara.
If—if Niohuru gave birth to a son this time, she would firmly establish her footing from then on. With this thought, Geng Gege glanced at Lady Li, who had remained calm since her arrival. Was she not worried at all?
Intending to probe further, Geng Gege noticed Lady Li’s hands, which had been hidden in her sleeves the entire time. Judging by the force of her grip… Geng Gege sneered inwardly: Her hands must be nearly bleeding.
The Fulinjin, pacified by Geng Gege’s words, sat down, her pride wounded. To cover her embarrassment, she said, “Go quickly and see how Niohuru Gege is doing.” She had never been favored by the prince, and their relationship over more than a decade could be described as respectful but cold. If anything happened to anyone in the rear courtyard under her watch, the prince would only think even less of her.
Her attendant tried to push the door open to check, but before her hand could touch it, someone emerged from inside. Chunxing, Niohuru’s capable maid, stepped out with a joyful expression and knelt with a thud:
“Fulinjin, our Gege has given birth to a lively and healthy little prince.”
Like a thunderclap, the news shook the rear courtyard of the Prince Yong’s residence. Some were delighted, while others were heartbroken, but without exception, everyone wore expressions of “congratulations.”
From then on, the Niohuru family’s good fortune was about to begin.
Indeed, with the arrival of this child, the Niohuru family’s luck seemed to open like a door. Niohuru Gege, who had always been unremarkable in the rear courtyard of Prince Yong’s residence, suddenly caught the prince’s eye and enjoyed continuous favor in the following days.
At the third-day bathing ceremony, Prince Yong’s fourth son finally received his name—bestowed by Emperor Kangxi as Hongli.
Prince Yong was overjoyed and held a feast for three days, filling the entire capital with excitement and celebration.
Yet, in a small courtyard in the southern part of the city, the atmosphere was starkly different from the outside world. This southern courtyard was the most dilapidated place in the capital, inhabited by people with no means of livelihood. Even beggars avoided the area around the courtyard, with one once spitting and scoffing, “The people inside are probably poorer than me.”
But today, a small sedan chair was carried to the vicinity of this courtyard. As if trying to avoid attention, the sedan bearers moved with light, practiced steps, clearly skilled martial artists. However, the sedan itself was an inconspicuous grayish-brown, and it was impossible to tell which wealthy family the occupant belonged to.
Upon reaching the destination, the bearers carefully set down the sedan. Soon after, a pair of delicate, jade-like hands emerged, followed by a gentle, water-like beauty. After the bearers retreated, the beauty entered one of the courtyards.
With a creak, dust immediately filled the air. The room, untouched by sunlight for years, carried a musty, damp odor. The beauty frowned, took out a handkerchief to cover her mouth, and stepped inside on her pink satin shoes embroidered with mandarin ducks.
“Tap, tap, tap,” she walked in with a graceful figure, exuding an air of opulence from head to toe, and her beauty was utterly captivating. Compared to this dusty, sunless courtyard, she seemed to belong to another world. Judging by her attire, even a simple handkerchief she carried was likely worth more than this entire courtyard.
“Sister,” the beauty called softly as she entered the room, her voice gentle and spirited—just hearing it could make one’s body go weak.
Inside the room, there was only dead silence, with no response. Unwilling to give up, the beauty called out repeatedly until, finally, a faint rustling came from the bed in the deepest corner of the room.
The tattered bed was filthy and foul-smelling, the source of the stench that had permeated the air since the door was pushed open. After a moment, the ragged quilt on the bed shifted, and an arm emerged from beneath it.
Even with just a short glimpse of the arm, one could see how smooth and delicate the skin was—so fair that even the finest jade could hardly compare. A flicker of jealousy flashed in the beauty’s eyes, but she quickly masked it.
“How has Sister been these days?” She took a few steps forward, approaching the table, carefully avoiding the thick layer of dust on its surface as she searched for a candle no larger than a little finger.
Pulling out a fire starter from her bosom, she lit the candle, and its faint glow brightened the entire room. The beauty carefully held the candle and stepped closer to the bed, using one hand to pull back the tattered quilt covering the person lying there.
First, hair appeared, then a head, and slowly, half of the body was revealed. The person was so emaciated that only skin and bones remained, with the texture of the bones clearly visible. Yet, the beauty chuckled softly and pouted, “Sister, you’ve grown even more beautiful with this thinness.”
But is it innocence? Or ignorance of the world? Judging by that gaze, she must be some pampered young lady from a noble family. How could the person on the bed compare to such beauty?
The person on the bed gasped for breath, slowly lifting her face and opening her eyes. Her skin was exquisite, so fair it was almost translucent—even the finest mutton-fat jade could not compare.
Her almond-shaped eyes opened slightly, glistening with moisture like bright stars. A single glance was enough to make one’s heart race wildly. Only half of her face was visible, yet that half alone made the originally somewhat beautiful woman seem as unremarkable as an ugly duckling.
The beauty lowered her jealous eyes: This person, even after seeing her countless times, remains detestable. How wonderful it would be if… if she were to disappear.
The beauty, who had just worn a gentle expression, suddenly grabbed the chin of the person on the bed. As her hair shifted, the other half of her face was revealed, showing a large red birthmark that covered half her face, startling and frightening at first glance.
“Heh…” She stepped forward, reaching out to grab the hair of the person on the bed. The strands were smooth and pleasant to the touch, wrapping around her fingers several times before she abruptly let go.
“It’s been many days, yet Sister remains as beautiful as ever.” Now the mockery in her words was clear. How could such a frightening face be described as beautiful? It was more likely to terrify.
The person on the bed stared blankly at the ceiling with lifeless eyes, her breathing intermittent and faint. But when the beauty reached out to play with her hair again, she reacted.
“Don’t touch me, it’s disgusting.” She turned her head away, her voice hoarse from disuse, so low it seemed to drain all her strength.
But the beauty acted as if she hadn’t heard, continuing to tug at her hair. At first, she merely wrapped it around her fingers as before, but then she slowly tightened her grip, seizing all the hair and yanking the person off the bed.
“How careless of you, Sister. I’m afraid…” She covered her mouth with a hand and laughed. “I’m afraid you must have fallen quite painfully.”
The woman on the floor tried to push herself up, but at that moment, a pair of platform shoes stepped on her hand, grinding mercilessly until her fingers bled, bringing the beauty a sense of satisfaction.
“You lowly wretch, still trying to steal what’s mine?” She spoke with venom, finding pleasure in watching the person on the ground crawl like an insect. Then she stepped forward and kicked her repeatedly. “You shameless creature, why did you come to the capital? Look at your own disgusting face. How dare you covet the Fourth Prince?”
The thought of the Fourth Prince’s past tenderness toward her—the calloused hands that had caressed her body, the strong form that had pressed against her, the panting breaths that had brought her unparalleled pleasure—made her heart feel as if it were being squeezed, aching with each beat.
“I’m telling you, the Fourth Prince is mine.” She stepped forward, pressing her foot against the ugly face of the woman on the ground.
“I am the true lady of the Niohuru family, the rightful lady of the Fourth Prince.” She pressed down even harder.
“You are the lowliest of Han Chinese, a merchant’s daughter reeking of money.” Another kick, this time flipping the person over. Blood kept gushing from the stomach, staining the ground red in no time.
This time, she stopped kicking and snorted contemptuously, “Don’t dirty my shoes later.”
She glanced at the person curled on the ground, barely breathing, and headed for the door. After a moment, she paused, turned her head, and said, “Sister, you can go in peace. I’ll take care of your child for you.”
Her innocent tone rang out again, “Take your time dying. I, Niohuru Lianxin, still have a grand gift for you.”
She raised a delicate finger, turned back, pulled down the cotton wadding, and covered the person on the ground, even tightening it with her hand. “Sister, you better cover up well.”
The person on the ground, tortured to this state, could only grit their teeth in hatred. Niohuru Lianxin leaned down, “Sister, what did you say? Are you saying you’re cold?” She tilted her head and murmured innocently, “I’ll help you right away.”
She picked up the fire starter from the table and lit the cotton wadding. The cotton caught fire quickly, and soon the person wrapped in the quilt became a ball of flames. “Sister, aren’t you cold now?”
She threw the fire starter into the fireball, and the sound of her flowerpot shoes began again.
Tap, tap, tap—all the way out the door.