Seated upright upon the Dragon Throne, Emperor Kangxi finished reviewing the memorials from the Southern Study. He rubbed his stiff neck just as Liang Jiugong entered carrying a cup of ginseng tea.
Tightening his grip on the tray, Liang Jiugong stepped forward quietly and lowered his voice.
“Your Majesty, you have been reviewing memorials for two hours straight. This servant has prepared some ginseng tea. Please have a cup while it’s still warm and rest for a moment.”
“Bring it here.”
Kangxi’s voice was slightly hoarse. Only after the warm tea had been placed in his hands did he look up at Liang Jiugong, the sharpness in his eyes softening somewhat.
“How are things at Yonghe Palace?”
“Since giving birth to the Sixth Prince, Consort De has remained in seclusion to recover. As for the Sixth Prince, everyone who has seen him says he is as beautiful as a painted doll—clever and adorable. The entire palace has taken a liking to him,” Liang Jiugong replied carefully.
“I see. Then I ought to pay him a visit.”
Rising to his feet, Kangxi headed toward Yonghe Palace.
The bronze bells hanging from the palace eaves chimed gently in the wind. Dismissing the attendants who followed him, Kangxi entered the inner hall with only Liang Jiugong by his side.
Apart from a faint trace of milk, the chamber carried no other scent, causing Kangxi to raise an eyebrow.
Shulan had been resting peacefully, but the moment she heard the attendants announce his arrival, her heart skipped a beat.
Kangxi was here.
The emperor from history—the decisive ruler known for both his ruthlessness and his fickle affections—had arrived.
In a panic, Shulan tried to rise and greet him, forgetting that she was still weak from childbirth.
Before she could move, a figure clad in bright yellow had already lifted the curtain and entered.
Xuanye, dressed in informal robes, said gently, “Stay where you are. Are you feeling better?”
His black hair was secured beneath a jade crown, his features handsome, his gaze deep and steady. Only the faint weariness between his brows hinted at his exhaustion.
Though she knew it was improper, Shulan couldn’t help sneaking a look at his cheeks.
The history books had always called Kangxi the “pockmarked emperor.”
After studying him carefully, she discovered the accounts had been somewhat exaggerated. There were indeed a few faint pockmarks, but nowhere near as many as the stories claimed.
Seeing Consort De staring blankly at him without responding, Kangxi reached out and lightly brushed her forehead with his fingertips.
“What are you daydreaming about?”
The cool touch startled Shulan back to her senses.
“Thank you for Your Majesty’s concern. I am feeling much better now.”
She silently reminded herself to be more careful in the future. Fortunately, her recent childbirth could still serve as an excuse for any unusual behavior.
Later generations often described Emperor Yongzheng as someone who loved passionately and hated intensely. In Shulan’s opinion, the same could easily be said of Kangxi.
He might not say anything now, but if trouble arose in the future, today’s lapse could become a weakness for others to exploit.
Unlike Shulan’s guardedness, Kangxi appeared completely at ease. His attention soon settled on the tiny bundle lying in the cradle.
Seeing the emperor’s interest, the wet nurse quickly lifted the swaddled infant and carefully presented him.
Kangxi gently pulled back the blanket.
Inside, the little baby frowned with his eyes shut, his tiny mouth opening and closing as he made soft cooing noises.
Just as Liang Jiugong had said, he looked as delicate as a carved jade doll. His palm-sized face was fair and smooth, and even his curled fingers were tinged with rosy pink.
Perhaps disturbed by the commotion, the baby suddenly pursed his lips. The next moment, a loud, clear cry rang out, full of energy.
Kangxi laughed softly and reached out to touch the infant’s warm cheek.
“A sturdy one indeed.”
Turning toward Shulan, the smile in his eyes deepened.
“His cry is strong, and his features are well-formed. He is a fortunate child. Let me hold him.”
At those words, everyone in Yonghe Palace widened their eyes in shock.
Among the Manchu nobility, there was a long-standing custom: one held grandchildren, not one’s own sons.
If word of this spread, it would cause quite a stir.
And if the Sixth Prince’s name turned out to be what everyone expected, it would create an even greater uproar. Now His Majesty wanted to hold the child himself…
Even Shulan was momentarily stunned. Her eyes darted around before she hurriedly said, “Your Majesty’s dragon body is precious. The Sixth Prince is still so delicate—I fear he may not be able to withstand Your Majesty’s imperial aura.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Kangxi had already regretted offering to hold the child, uncertain how to withdraw the request gracefully.
When he heard Shulan’s explanation, however, he froze briefly before bursting into laughter.
“You sly thing.”
He made no further mention of holding the baby and simply watched him quietly instead.
After crying for a few moments, the little prince seemed to tire himself out. Nestling his head against the wet nurse’s arms, he drifted back to sleep, a glistening thread of drool at the corner of his mouth.
Watching Little Six sleep more soundly by the second, Shulan took him gently from the wet nurse and signaled for the attendants to step back.
Feeling the change in arms, the baby shifted restlessly. Shulan quickly patted his swaddling clothes until he settled down again.
“You’ve raised Little Six well,” Kangxi remarked, satisfaction evident in his eyes.
Shulan lowered her head respectfully.
“For Little Six to be allowed to remain in my care is already an immense blessing. Everything I have done is simply my duty.”
As soon as she finished speaking, Kangxi fell silent.
Shulan opened her mouth, then thought better of it and remained quiet.
Just as she assumed the emperor was about to leave, he suddenly spoke.
“Zuo.”
“Zuo?” Shulan echoed, feigning confusion.
“The Sixth Prince shall be named Yinzuo. The name will be formally announced after his full-month celebration.”
“Since Your Majesty has already chosen the name, this concubine dares to ask about the meaning behind the characters ‘Yinzuo.'”
In later generations, many believed Kangxi must have loved this child deeply to bestow upon him such a weighty name.
Yet after several days in this world, Shulan had come to understand one thing clearly: no child, no matter how beloved, could outrank the Crown Prince.
Unable to suppress her curiosity, she asked the question that had puzzled historians for years.
Kangxi turned to look at her. His gaze was calm, carrying both the expectations of an emperor and the gentleness of a father.
“‘Yin’ is the generational character for imperial princes. That is tradition.”
He paused, his fingers brushing the jade pendant at his waist.
“As for ‘Zuo’—
First, it signifies blessings and good fortune. I hope this child will be born under a fortunate star, free from illness and disaster, and grow up safely.
Second, it signifies the destiny of the state. Throughout my life, I have suppressed the Revolt of the Three Feudatories, reclaimed Taiwan, and pacified Galdan. All I seek is for the Great Qing to endure forever and for its mandate to continue unbroken.”
Bending down to look at the sleeping infant in the wet nurse’s arms, he lowered his voice.
“His cry is strong, and his features are well-formed. He is a sturdy child. I hope he will remember the meaning of this name. I hope he will inherit good fortune, and I hope that the destiny of the Great Qing will remain evergreen, like the pines within these palace walls.
I know this name carries great weight, but seeing his spirit, I believe he can bear it.
In the future, I hope he will become a prince who stands tall beneath heaven and protects the vast lands of the Qing Empire.”
Shulan was moved by his words and immediately knelt in gratitude.
“Your Majesty’s affection for Little Six is a great honor. This concubine thanks Your Majesty on his behalf. I will raise and guide him carefully so that he does not disappoint Your Majesty’s expectations.”
Kangxi nodded and looked once more at Yinzuo, his eyes full of paternal warmth.
As Little Six drifted into deeper sleep, Shulan carefully laid him in his cradle.
Following her movements, Kangxi finally noticed that the cradle contained something unusual.
With a few deft motions, Shulan secured the rocking cradle in place. Inside sat a round cushion with a hollowed center.
After placing Little Six onto it, she patted him gently and set a strangely shaped little tiger toy beside him.
The baby quickly fell asleep again.
Kangxi raised an eyebrow at the object, which looked somewhat like a pillow yet unlike any he had seen before.
“Remember to turn the little prince every quarter of an hour,” Shulan instructed the palace maids. “And if he wets himself, change the pad immediately.”
Only after giving her instructions did she remember the emperor was still standing nearby.
Why hasn’t he left yet?
“Your Majesty, please forgive me. I completely forgot you were still here.”
Kangxi chuckled.
“Consort De sees only her child now and no longer has room for me. But no matter how loving a mother may be, she must learn to let go.”
He pointed toward the round cushion in the cradle.
“What is that?”
Shulan quickly explained, “Your Majesty, it is a special sleeping pillow I had made. The hollow center helps support the little prince so he sleeps more soundly, and it also reduces the risk of choking on milk.”
Kangxi nodded with interest.
“Quite an ingenious device.”
He reached out to touch the anti-choking pillow lightly before looking once more at the peacefully sleeping Little Six.
“Very well. I still have state affairs to attend to, so I shall take my leave.”
With that, Kangxi stood and prepared to depart.
Shulan hurriedly saw him off with a bow. Only after his figure disappeared beyond the palace doors did she let out a long sigh of relief.
How exhausting.
Far more tiring than sitting through countless meetings at work.
Yet when she looked at Little Six’s round little head, a smile unconsciously spread across her face.