What Ning Nuannuan didn’t know was that the moment she pressed down the startled horse with one hand, a pair of eyes from the corner tower on the western wall of the imperial city had witnessed everything.
That evening, the Kangxi Emperor wasn’t in the Qianqing Palace reviewing memorials. Instead, he had gone to the corner tower of the western city wall to inspect the defenses.
Accompanying him were the Commander of the Imperial Guards, Tuli Chen, and two sixth-rank blade-bearing guards.
The position of the tower was excellent—commanding a high vantage point, it overlooked the streets and alleys beneath the imperial city.
Kangxi stood with his hands behind his back, observing the dusk beyond the city. Tuli Chen was reporting on patrol arrangements when, halfway through, a rapid sound of galloping hooves came from below the wall.
Everyone looked down at the same time.
In the wide alley beneath the tower, a runaway chestnut Mongolian horse, dragging half a carriage shaft, charged forward like madness. Not far ahead, two sedan chairs lay tilted in the road, their carriers long gone.
“Whose sedan chairs are those?” Kangxi frowned.
Tuli Chen narrowed his eyes to identify the markings and his expression changed. “Your Majesty, they belong to the Ninth Prince’s residence.”
Kangxi stepped closer to the railing.
The situation below was crystal clear. The guards chased the horse, but it grew more frantic. After the carriage shaft was cut off, the horse sped up instead, charging straight toward the sedan chairs.
A woman stepped out from one of the tilted chairs.
From such a distance, Kangxi couldn’t see her face, but he could see her movements. She tore something off her head and threw it back into the chair, then walked to the center of the alley, facing the oncoming horse, and stood still.
Tuli Chen’s hand moved to his saber. “Your Majesty, I’ll go—”
“Wait.”
Kangxi raised a hand to stop him.
The woman below did not dodge. At the moment the horse reached her, she moved forward to meet it.
The entire sequence was absurdly fast. From the tower, what Kangxi saw was this: the horse charged, the woman stepped forward, her hand pressed onto the horse’s head—and the horse collapsed.
Three breaths, start to finish.
Tuli Chen’s hand slipped from his saber hilt. He had lived over forty years and served ten years as an imperial guard, seeing all kinds of martial experts—but never someone subdue a frenzied horse barehanded.
Kangxi leaned forward against the railing, staring down for a long moment.
“Who is that woman?”
“Reporting to Your Majesty, judging from the sedan markings, she should be the primary consort of the Ninth Prince.”
“A girl from the Dong’e clan?”
“Yes.”
Kangxi straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. His expression remained neutral, but his thumb rubbed against the back of his index finger—a small habit he had when thinking.
“I recall that when the marriage was arranged, the Dong’e family’s report did not mention any martial skills.”
Tuli Chen said nothing. This was not something he could respond to.
Kangxi glanced down once more. The woman had already stood up from beside the horse’s head, said a few words to Yintang, then turned and left. Her steps were steady, not like someone exhausted after exerting great force.
“Summon the Ninth Prince.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
Yintang had just mounted his horse when He Yuzhu ran over and grabbed his reins.
“My lord! The city wall!”
Yintang looked up. Several figures stood on the tower. From this distance, their faces were unclear—but that posture, that presence—there was only one person in the world who could move freely atop the imperial walls.
Yintang’s legs went weak again.
Had his imperial father seen everything?
He dismounted, his legs trembling, holding onto the saddle for a while before steadying himself.
“Where is the Consort?”
“She’s back in the sedan.”
“Call her out. She’s coming up with me.”
Ning Nuannuan was sitting in the reassembled sedan, wrapping gauze around her hand when Yintang lifted the curtain.
“What is it?”
“My imperial father is on the city wall.”
Ning Nuannuan glanced toward the tower.
“He saw it?”
“Most likely. He’s calling us up.”
Ning Nuannuan tightened the bandage and stepped out of the sedan.
“Why are you nervous? I stopped the horse—I didn’t set it loose.”
Yintang swallowed. “My imperial father… you don’t understand him. If he thinks you’re good, then you’re truly good. But if he thinks something’s off about you—”
“Let’s go. Stop dawdling.”
The two of them climbed the stone steps beneath the city wall, leading up to the corner tower.
The steps were steep—seventy-two in total. By halfway, Yintang was already out of breath. Ning Nuannuan was half a step ahead of him, even having to pause to wait.
“Your stamina…” Ning Nuannuan glanced back at him.
“Shut up!” Yinzhen panted. “I’m skilled in both civil and martial arts—just more inclined toward the civil side.”
Ning Nuannuan ignored him.
They climbed onto the city wall. The corner tower was about twenty steps ahead. Tuli Chen stood at the stair entrance and nodded to Yinzhen.
“His Majesty is inside.”
Yinzhen straightened his robe and took a deep breath—
“Stop breathing like that. Go in.” Ning Nuannuan pushed him forward.
The inner room of the corner tower was not large, with windows on three sides. Kangxi sat in a zitan wood armchair, a bowl of tea beside him. The twilight streamed through the windows, casting half his face in light and half in shadow.
A man in his fifties, with a firm jawline and fine lines at the corners of his eyes—but his gaze was sharp, far beyond his age.
The last time Ning Nuannuan had “seen” Kangxi was from afar, kneeling during the imperial marriage decree. This was her first close encounter.
“Your son greets Imperial Father.” Yinzhen knelt.
“Your daughter-in-law greets Your Majesty.” Ning Nuannuan knelt as well.
Kangxi lifted the tea bowl and took a sip.
“Rise.”
They stood. Ning Nuannuan stood upright before him.
“When I granted this marriage, the Dong’e family’s memorial described you as gentle, virtuous, and well-trained in feminine conduct.”
Ning Nuannuan said nothing.
“A gentle and virtuous lady—able to pin a six-hundred-jin Mongolian horse to the ground with bare hands?”
Yinzhen’s knees almost buckled again.
“Your Majesty,” Ning Nuannuan spoke, “being gentle and virtuous is for ordinary times. When a horse charges at you, you can’t exactly reason with it.”
Kangxi laughed again—this time louder.
“Yinzhen.”
“Your son is here.”
“This wife of yours—I chose well for you.”
Yinzhen opened his mouth, unsure whether to thank him or cry.
Kangxi rose from his chair and walked to the window. In the fading light, the capital gradually lit up with scattered lanterns.
“I’ve heard that on your first day in the residence, you broke a zitan bed with a single strike?”
How did even Imperial Father know about that?
Yinzhen wished he could disappear into the ground.
Ning Nuannuan answered just as she had before Consort Yi: “I bumped into it by accident.”
Kangxi turned to look at her, then at Yinzhen.
“Yinzhen, what do you think?”
Grinding his teeth, Yinzhen replied, “Reporting to Imperial Father—it was indeed… an accident.”
Kangxi did not pursue the matter. He walked back toward the chair but did not sit.
“What is your name?”
“Dong’e Ningnuan.”
“Ningnuan.” Kangxi repeated it. “A good name—but it doesn’t quite match your abilities.”
With his hands behind his back, he paced slowly inside the tower.
“I have ruled for forty years and seen many formidable men. During the campaign against the Dzungars, there was a vanguard officer who could carry a three-hundred-jin stone lock and run fifty zhang—I thought that was remarkable. But today, seeing you subdue that horse—six hundred jin at least—how did you train?”
“I was born this way.”
Kangxi stopped.
“Born this way?”
“I’ve been strong since childhood. I never trained.”
Kangxi’s gaze lingered on her for a long time. He had seen countless people lie before him—liars had a hundred different expressions. But Ning Nuannuan had only one: speaking plainly.
“Tuli Chen.”
“Your servant is here.”
“In your opinion, how does her strength compare to your guards?”
Tuli Chen hesitated. “Reporting to Your Majesty—none of my guards could subdue a galloping frightened horse with bare hands.”
Kangxi nodded.
“Tomorrow, I will have the Imperial Guard investigate the origin of that horse. A horse does not go mad without reason beneath the imperial walls—there is something behind this.”
Yinzhen’s heart skipped.
He still carried the broken carriage shaft with the hidden bamboo spike. He had intended to investigate privately, but now that the Emperor would look into it, the matter was no longer within his control.
“Yinzhen.”
“Your son is here.”
“Take your wife back. After morning court tomorrow, have her go to your mother. I have something to reward her with.”