Chapter 1 Eternal Cong

On the eighth day of the fourth month in the eleventh year of Qianlong’s reign, at midnight. The Empress gave birth to her second legitimate son in the Palace of Eternal Spring, who was seventh in the imperial lineage. The Emperor was overjoyed and bestowed upon him the name Yongcong.

The joyous news spread, and the entire empire celebrated.

Empress Fucha, already thirty-four years old, had conceived again after a gap of fifteen years, which truly stirred both the imperial court and the inner palace. Countless concubines tore their handkerchiefs in frustration, and hearts were unsettled. But Fucha, having managed the inner palace for over a decade, ensured that any disturbances were swiftly and silently quelled.

Since his principal wife became pregnant, Qianlong had been exceptionally careful in his care for her. In the first month of the eleventh year of his reign, because the Empress was having difficulty moving around, he issued an edict canceling the customary move to the Old Summer Palace, choosing instead to spend the Lantern Festival with her in the Forbidden City.

Qianlong gently touched the Empress’s belly, feeling faint movements beneath his palm. He smiled and said, “This little one is just like Yonglian—a mischievous monkey before birth.”

He added, “Yonglian was too serious. I rather hope this one will be livelier.”

The Empress wore only a plain, loose robe, without any makeup, yet her beauty remained dignified, showing no trace of age. She tilted her head and smiled, “If he’s too lively, won’t it be Your Majesty who gets annoyed?”

Qianlong replied gently, “Any child of yours is dear to me.”

After exchanging a few more words about the child, Qianlong took the Empress’s hand and said, “Our child is blessed. He will surely be born safe and sound.”

From the moment she became pregnant, Qianlong summoned the imperial physicians almost daily for updates. Even with their reassurances, he remained uneasy. After so many years, if anything were to happen to her during this pregnancy…

For months, the servants in the Hall of Heavenly Purity had been walking on eggshells. The Emperor’s temper was not as even as before, often exuding a tense atmosphere.

The Empress soothingly returned his grasp, offering a soft smile. “By Your Majesty’s auspicious words, he will surely be blessed.”

As if heaven had foretold it, on the evening of the seventh day of the fourth month, the Empress went into labor. By the early hours of the eighth day, just past the first watch, the sound of a baby’s cries echoed from the birthing chamber in the Palace of Eternal Spring!

The midwife lifted the curtain to announce, “It’s a prince! Her Majesty the Empress and the child are both safe!”

The Palace of Eternal Spring was immediately filled with joy.

Qianlong first inquired about the Empress’s condition. Yu Momo, her face creased with smiles, reassured him, “Her Majesty is exhausted and has fallen asleep. There is no need for Your Majesty to worry.”

“Good, good,” Qianlong sighed in relief.

Then he bent down to examine the newborn prince closely, his face alight with happiness. “Hejing, your little brother looks like me. Look at these eyes, this nose…”

The swaddled prince had his eyes tightly shut, smacking his lips, with tiny fists pressed against his mouth. His face was wrinkled and red, resembling a little monkey, making it hard to discern any distinct features.

Princess Hejing, now fifteen, had inherited her mother’s elegant and dignified beauty. Overjoyed, she leaned in to study her little brother for a long moment before hesitantly remarking, “…Why is he so ugly?”

Having grown up sheltered, this was her first time seeing a newborn.

Qianlong, with a small beard on his chin, twitched his mustache in amusement. “Ugly? Your brother just hasn’t grown into his features yet. Babies change every day. How can you speak so dismissively of your own brother?”

Hejing blinked. “This daughter was wrong.”

Then, remembering something, she added regretfully, “Second Brother is still in Jiangnan. What a pity.”

Her second brother had been sent away by their father on official business; otherwise, he would have been here sharing in their joy.

Qianlong coughed lightly. “He should be returning soon.”

The little prince must not be exposed to the wind for too long. Qianlong reluctantly tucked the swaddling clothes around him and handed the bundle to Yu Momo, who stood ready nearby. “Have the wet nurse and attendants all arrived?”

Yu Momo carefully took the child. “Your Majesty, they have. Her Majesty personally selected each one. They will certainly not neglect the little prince.”

Qianlong nodded, his heart still surging with emotion. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced back and forth before suddenly stopping. Turning to Wu Shulai, he asked, “If I recall correctly… what day is it today?”

Wu Shulai beamed as if his face might split into a flower. “Your Majesty, it is the eighth day of the fourth month—the Buddha’s Birthday!”

Buddha’s Birthday!

Qianlong froze for a moment before bursting into joy. “Excellent! My seventh prince is truly blessed by fortune!”

The more he pondered, the happier he became. “Bring me paper and brush!”

Hejing stiffened slightly—was he about to compose another poem?

Wu Shulai hurriedly assented, shooting a glance at a young eunuch beside him. The eunuch scrambled out of the bedchamber.

When the writing materials were presented, the young eunuch’s indigo robe was dotted with water stains. Before Wu Shulai could scold him for his disheveled appearance, the eunuch knelt breathlessly and kowtowed. “Your Majesty, outside… it’s raining!”

The capital region had suffered a month-long drought, yet on this very day, a sparse drizzle began, soon turning into a torrential downpour.

Congratulations rose in waves throughout the Palace of Eternal Spring. Qianlong strode to the window. “It truly is raining…”

While astonished, Wu Shulai couldn’t help but glance toward the inner chamber.

Her Majesty the Empress was truly remarkable.

The Second Prince, with his noble bearing, was the most favored, and the Third Princess’s standing surpassed even that of the imperial sons.

On Buddha’s Birthday, Sweet Dew descended from the heavens—the Seventh Prince’s place in His Majesty’s heart would surely become extraordinary…

The Empress’s position had always been unshakable, and now it would be as firm as bedrock. After all, His Majesty adored the Empress, and by extension, cherished her sons and daughters.

As Wu Shulai marveled, Qianlong was seized by poetic inspiration and swiftly composed *”Rain on Buddha’s Bathing Day, Thus Inscribed.”*

“…On this day, the Empress gave birth to a son.”

He set down the brush and listened to the rain pattering against the eaves before solemnly declaring, “Yongcong. The Seventh Prince shall be named Yongcong.”

Cong—a ceremonial jade vessel for ancestral temples, akin to the character Lian—carried Qianlong’s boundless joy and blessings.

“Lian’er’s name was personally chosen by the late emperor,” Qianlong said with a smile to Hejing. “I once considered the name Cong, and now it perfectly suits my little prince.”

…

In the inner chamber, incense smoke curled upward, and the scent of blood had long dissipated. The palace servants moved softly, careful not to disturb their resting mistress.

The Empress opened her eyes, pain radiating from her lower body.

She abruptly sat up, and Yu Momo exclaimed in alarm, “Your Majesty, you mustn’t move so suddenly!”

The senior maid Mozhi hurriedly brought a soft cushion, while Moyun presented a bowl of warm chicken broth. The Empress took a few sips, feeling warmth spread through her body and some strength returning.

Though her face remained pale, her eyes shone brilliantly.

“Where is the Seventh Prince?” she asked hoarsely.

Yu Momo quickly lifted the child from the cradle and gently placed him in the Empress’s arms. “The prince has just been fed and has slept for a while. Your Majesty, please be careful—your body is still weak…”

The Empress cradled the child with practiced ease, her movements showing no hesitation.

Her hands trembled slightly, and Yu Momo watched with concern. “Your Majesty, let this old servant hold him. You need only look at the prince.”

The Empress shook her head. “I have the strength…”

She lowered her head to gaze at Yongcong, and moments later, teardrops fell onto the swaddling clothes, spreading in damp circles.

“Why is Her Majesty crying again?”

Mozhi hurriedly took out a handkerchief and gently wiped the Empress’s cheeks. “Your Majesty, the prince is healthy and strong. Please don’t cry.”

Moyun chimed in, “This is a joyous occasion! Your Majesty should be happy!”

The Empress nodded lightly. “You’re right. These are tears of joy.” With that, she bent down to kiss Yongcong’s rosy forehead, her tender touch filled with boundless affection.

For some reason, Yu Momo’s eyes reddened at the sight.

Moyu, seeking to lighten the mood, said, “The Seventh Prince was born on Buddha’s Birthday, with Sweet Dew falling from the heavens. His Majesty was overjoyed, praising the prince’s auspicious fortune. He even composed a poem on the spot and bestowed a name!”

Yu Momo wiped her eyes and smiled. “The prince is named Yongcong—what a fine name! None of the other princes received such an honor.”

During the Qianlong era, imperial princes were typically named only after reaching two years of age. Only Yonglian had been personally named by the Yongzheng Emperor. Yet Yongcong received his name less than half an hour after birth.

“Yongcong… my Yongcong,” the Empress murmured with a soft smile.

Suddenly, the Seventh Prince squirmed slightly, and slowly, his tightly shut eyes opened.

The folds of his double eyelids were distinct, his pupils dark and lively, staring unblinkingly at the woman before him.

Yongcong?

“Ah, ah, ah,” the Seventh Prince called out, his tiny hands breaking free from the swaddle to wave in the air.

“Yongcong, your mother is here,” the Empress said tenderly, leaning forward to grasp her son’s little hand. She kissed it gently before tucking it back into the swaddle.

“…” Yongcong closed his eyes, utterly resigned.

It was clear—he had time-traveled, becoming the Seventh Prince Yongcong of the Qianlong era.

The woman holding him must be Fucha, Qianlong’s primary consort and future Empress Xiaoxian.

His father was the Qianlong Emperor, his mother the Empress. Logically, having transmigrated into such a privileged position as a top-tier “power heir,” he should be thrilled.

But historically, the Seventh Prince Yongcong contracted smallpox at two years old and died…

Yongcong closed his eyes and babbled incoherently, then felt a kiss land on his forehead.

So… gentle…

A sudden surge of warmth and closeness welled up in his heart.

Had his past life been Yongcong? Was she truly his mother?

An infant’s mind couldn’t hold such complex thoughts. Before he could ponder further, he drifted back into deep slumber.

Author’s Note:

1. Semi-fictional Qing Dynasty Time Travel—don’t scrutinize historical accuracy; the author ate all logic.

2. A genuine Beloved by All story, a warm palace drama—absolutely no angst.

3. Male protagonist romance, slow burn—the female lead appears later.