Chapter 35– Noble Lady.

East Wing Room.

Kangxi had never witnessed such a spectacle before. He could no longer maintain his composure—his face contorted like a painter’s palette, flashing through a wild spectrum of colors. From red to purple, then from purple to green, and finally a deep, pitch-black. With a loud slap on the table, Kangxi shouted, “Outrageous!”

The palace servants fell to their knees with a loud rustle.

Haitao, Zisu, and Jubai collapsed in despair, their bodies trembling. The three exchanged glances, crawled forward on their knees, and cried out in trembling voices, “Your Majesty, the young mistress—she only drank too much wine, she wasn’t… wasn’t…”

Kangxi’s expression was dark as iron. He slapped the table again, making it resound with sharp bangs. “The Empress has only been ill for half a month, and these wretches already dare to neglect the consorts in the palace? Who’s the master here—them or me!?”

The voices of the three maids halted abruptly.

Wait… it sounded like the Emperor wasn’t upset with the young mistress?

Now it was Liang Jiugong and the others who panicked. Heads bowed, they stared hard at the floor, not daring to breathe.

And the most relaxed person in the room? Surprisingly, it was Wan Changzai.

Having finished her lively rhymed performance, she collapsed onto the table with a satisfied plop. Her mouth slightly open, she started to snore softly. In no time at all, she was deeply asleep.

The room fell into complete silence… or almost.

There was still a bit of sound—Wan Changzai’s snoring. As with all drunken snores, hers was particularly loud, and somehow rhythmic like someone playing a flute.

Smacking her lips in her sleep, she looked to be in an incredibly sweet dream.

Kangxi’s chest heaved violently, veins bulged on his forehead, and fury surged in his eyes like an erupting volcano.

He glanced at the soundly sleeping Wan Changzai and gestured for Haitao and the others to carry her back to bed. Then, without another word, he strode out with his entourage.

Kangxi made his way to the main hall.

Consort Xuan had already received word. She hastily refreshed her makeup and then composed herself with a string of prayer beads, reading a Buddhist scripture with an air of solemn dignity. However, the moment she saw Kangxi, she couldn’t help herself—her cheeks puffed slightly, and a hint of a smile appeared in her eyes.

“Your concubine greets Your Majesty,” Consort Xuan said with a proper curtsy, using the motion to conceal the twist of amusement on her face.

Kangxi pretended not to see.

He sat down heavily on the throne and sternly asked, “Wan Changzai says that the daily provisions in the palace have occasionally been lacking these days. Is this true?”

“It is true.”

“Bring the records over. I want to see them.”

Kangxi’s face turned grim. After comparing the current provisions with the previous ones handled by the Empress, his expression darkened like the bottom of a pot.

He laughed coldly in disbelief.

With a snap, he slammed the account book onto the table. The anger in his eyes was like a dormant volcano ready to erupt at the slightest touch. His fingers clenched the book tightly, ready to unleash a storm of reprimands on Consort Xuan. But when he looked up, he found her calmly sipping tea with evident enjoyment.

At ease and unbothered, she appeared utterly detached—completely unconcerned with him. Kangxi’s face dropped.

“Consort Xuan, as one of the Eight Consorts, you ought to—”

“Your Majesty, I am not in charge of palace affairs,” Consort Xuan interrupted, cutting him off so sharply it left him speechless.

“…!” Kangxi’s words hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he choked them back with frustration.

He shifted his thoughts—if he couldn’t vent his anger on Consort Xuan, could he at least direct it elsewhere? His expression darkened again as he scolded, “Wan Changzai is inexperienced, but even you, Consort Xuan, fail to show proper decorum? Allowing a consort to get dead drunk—how would that look if word spreads? I even heard rumors that while the Empress lay gravely ill, Wan Changzai was out drinking and making merry!”

Of course, I don’t believe such things.

Before he could say the second half of the sentence, he was startled by Consort Xuan’s reaction.

She looked furious. Her usually serene eyes burned with anger, and an oppressive aura radiated from her like a gathering storm. “Who said that!?”

“Uh…” Kangxi had never seen her like this before. Startled, he instinctively tried to calm her. “I know Wan Changzai isn’t that kind of person.”

“I know it too!”

Consort Xuan’s voice rang with righteous indignation. “Your Majesty! You must stand up for Wan Changzai!”

Such slander didn’t just tarnish Wan Changzai’s name—it smeared the entire Xianfu Palace. To speak frankly, if the Empress were to wake up and hear even a whisper of such things, how could she not be disturbed?

The more Consort Xuan thought about it, the more serious she became.

She marched forward with authority, leading Kangxi straight into the prayer room. While Kangxi still looked confused, Consort Xuan pointed to one of the stacks of scriptures on the altar. “Your Majesty, these were all copied by Wan Changzai over the past few days, day and night without rest!”

Kangxi’s pupils shrank. “Wan Changzai… copied these?”

Three stacks of scriptures sat on the incense table, each roughly the same height. The one Consort Xuan pointed to was actually the thinnest. By right, Kangxi shouldn’t have been surprised.

Most palace consorts copied scriptures—eight or nine out of ten did.

But this was Wan Changzai! Kangxi still remembered how clumsy she was at it last year—how could someone like her copy scriptures properly now?

Holding onto a stomach full of doubt, Kangxi stepped forward and opened a scripture, reading carefully.

The once-wobbly handwriting that barely rivaled Wan Fu’s had undergone a complete transformation. Though not yet distinctive in style, the characters were upright, fluid, and graceful.

Each stroke was forceful and elegant.

Gone were the many mistakes she used to make—Kangxi read two or three pages without spotting a single error.

“Wan Changzai is not good at calligraphy,” Consort Xuan sighed. “In the past, whenever she copied anything, there were mistakes everywhere. Just for these scriptures, she went through who knows how many sheets of paper. We burned several basins worth of discarded drafts.”

Kangxi felt conflicted.

He flipped through the pages one by one, and involuntarily recalled the scene of Wan Changzai crying earlier.

His nose stung faintly.

For reasons he couldn’t quite name, he even felt the tiniest bit envious of the Empress. Just a little. Ahem. Just a tiny bit.

Kangxi closed the scripture, his expression complex yet tinged with softness. “I know. I’m not as muddleheaded as you think, Consort Xuan.”

“…I never said you were.”

“Heh.” Just one look at your face is enough.

Kangxi didn’t say more. He collected the scriptures and hurried away.

Once the Emperor and his entourage had completely vanished from the palace gates, Tana whispered, “Mistress, why bother speaking up for Wan Changzai…”

“This palace no longer has any hopes left.”

Consort Xuan looked up at the blue sky above the eaves. Pretending not to see Tana’s look of protest, she only smiled and said, “Why let them end up like me?”

Besides—Wan Changzai is a good girl.

That “good girl” of Consort Xuan’s slept straight through till midday the next day.

Having had such a rare, satisfying rest, Wan Anran stretched with a long yawn and declared cheerfully, “That was such a good sleep!”

Only you, Young Mistress, could sleep so well!

With heavy dark circles and exhausted faces, Haitao, Zisu, and Jubai silently screamed in their hearts.

“What’s wrong with you three?” Wan Anran asked in confusion, looking at the trio. The dark circles under their eyes… tsk tsk.

Wan Anran held Haitao’s hand and muttered, “Go get a few boiled eggs later to press on your eye corners. It’ll help with the dark circles. We can’t take body maintenance lightly. Once you get older, it’ll be too late to start taking care of yourself…”

The three of them—Haitao, Zisu, and Jubai—were speechless.

Their silence left Wan Anran confused. She tilted her head slightly. “What’s wrong with all of you?”

“Little Mistress, do you still remember what happened last night?”

“…Last night?” Wan Anran looked blank, instinctively trying to recall.

Yesterday, upon hearing the news that the Empress had regained consciousness, she had been ecstatic and brought out the apricot-blossom wine she’d been saving. She had a small drink… or two… well…

She remembered the first bottle tasted delicious and sweet, and she finished it in just a few gulps. Still unsatisfied, she asked Haitao to bring another jar, and after opening it, she started gulping it down directly… Now that she thought about it, the second bottle had a much stronger kick.

“Haitao, that second jar yesterday didn’t taste right. Was it brewed wrong?” Wan Anran smacked her lips, face serious.

“…Little Mistress, keep going.”

“Keep going?” Wan Anran looked confused.

What happened next?

Wan Anran thought harder.

Hmm? Hmm? HMMM?

Her expression froze, then her entire body began to tremble.

What had she done!? Ahhhh!?

Her face looked like the sky had collapsed. Just moments ago she’d felt refreshed, and now she was suffering from a splitting headache. Wan Anran laid back down again, silently grabbed the corner of her quilt and pulled it over her head, her face showing a rare peace.

This must all just be a dream.

Wan Anran murmured, “…It’ll be fine once I wake up.”

“Little Mistress, this isn’t a dream.”

Haitao had no choice but to shatter her mistress’s fantasy and mercilessly reminded her, “You really did call His Majesty bald, and even said he was experiencing premature baldness. You suggested he should eat more black sesame seeds.”

Wan Anran: ………

She yanked the quilt up over her head and wailed in anguish, “As long as I don’t get up, this whole thing never happened!”

But right at that moment, the voice of Nanny Xia called from outside, “Mistress Wan! Mistress Wan, the eunuch delivering the imperial decree is here and waiting for you!”

Wan Anran: shattered.jpg

He’s not here to punish me in person, is he? Please no, please no… She pitifully peeked out from under the quilt, tears welling in her eyes.

Zisu nudged Haitao with her elbow.

Haitao sighed and stepped forward. “Little Mistress, perhaps it’s about the palace allowances.”

“…Eh?”

“You insisted on filing a complaint while drunk yesterday,” Zisu explained gently. Her memory of it was painfully vivid, and she even recited each and every phrase her mistress had delivered.

Expressionless. Like a comedic skit.

Once Zisu finished, Wan Anran was completely petrified—she looked like a stone statue, ready to be swept away by a gust of wind.

Wan Anran: ………

My courage on a normal day: about the size of a pinhead.

My courage after drinking: roughly the size of the entire Forbidden City.

Wan Anran slumped her shoulders and got up.

She carefully tidied herself up, then struck the solemn pose of someone walking to the execution ground, pushing the door open with heavy steps.

Wan Anran took a deep breath.

She strode toward the front courtyard—maybe this day next year would be the anniversary of her death!

But to her complete shock, she was conferred the title of Noble Lady.

That’s right, she—Wan Anran—was now a Noble Lady!? Wan Anran stood there stunned, and only after being prompted by the palace attendants did she muddle her way through accepting the decree and rising amid their congratulations.

Wan Anran: …???

She couldn’t help but wonder if Kangxi was secretly a masochist. Otherwise, how could she have gotten promoted after cursing him so brutally yesterday?

Wan Anran’s face was full of confusion.

In contrast, Consort Xuan was so delighted that she couldn’t stop smiling, as though she had been the one promoted. She patted Wan Anran on the shoulder and said, “What are you still standing around for? Hurry and thank His Majesty for his grace!”

Snapping out of it, Wan Anran quickly expressed her gratitude for the decree.

After the eunuch left, her face was still dazed. “Consort Xuan, what… what just happened?”

Not only had she not been punished, she’d even received a slew of rewards?

Consort Xuan responded gently, “His Majesty saw the scriptures you copied.”

“You get promoted just for copying scriptures?”

“Of course not,” Consort Xuan said cheerfully. Her expression couldn’t hide her glee and schadenfreude. Just thinking of what had happened earlier made her burst out laughing. “You didn’t see His Majesty’s and Consort Tong’s faces—oh my!”

Wan Anran’s eyes lit up.

This was the natural instinct of a gossip lover. Her eyes sparkled as she looked eagerly at Consort Xuan, hoping to dig out more juicy stories.

Farmer of gossip that she was, Consort Xuan looked quite proud.

She was just about to share the earth-shattering melon of the day when Nanny Xia cut in, “Mistress, this isn’t the place to talk.”

“Alright, alright, let’s go inside,” Consort Xuan said with a smile, taking Wan Anran by the hand and leading her indoors.

What fun is there in eating melons alone when you can eat them together?

She had snacks and fruits sent in, then called over Noble Lady Nara. With everyone gathered, Consort Xuan began recounting the morning’s drama with great enthusiasm.