Chapter 3 Brother

The Palace of Longevity and Health was the residence of Empress Dowager Niohuru, personally overseen by Emperor Qianlong in the first year of his reign. As the Empress Dowager was fond of Buddhist worship, a dedicated prayer hall was built within the palace—spacious and solemn—a testament to the Emperor’s filial devotion.

Another Buddha’s Birthday arrived, and the Empress Dowager observed fasting and incense offerings, secluded in prayer while also blessing the unborn Legitimate Imperial Son in the Empress’s womb. Before her retreat, she instructed Granny Gui to monitor the Palace of Eternal Spring and report any developments immediately.

Before the towering golden statue of the Buddha, serene and benevolent, the Empress Dowager meditated with her prayer beads. After what seemed like an eternity, Granny Gui knocked on the wooden door, her voice brimming with joy, “Empress Dowager, Her Majesty the Empress has given birth to the Seventh Prince at the hour of Zi, and both mother and child are well!”

The Empress Dowager paused, then rose immediately. “Good, good, good!”

Three “goods” in succession, she stepped out of the prayer hall and said happily to Granny Gui, “I’ve always worried that Yonglian would lack support, but now, the Emperor has another legitimate son! This is a blessing for the Great Qing!”

Granny Gui supported her hand and smiled, “The Seventh Prince was born on Buddha’s Birthday—isn’t that a sign of great fortune? Look, it’s raining outside…”

Hearing the gentle patter of rain, the Empress Dowager suddenly realized, “Little Seven was born today. A most auspicious omen…”

She clasped Granny Gui’s hand, overjoyed. “The eighth day of the fourth month! Little Seven is born with a connection to the Buddha.”

Granny Gui knew the Seventh Prince had won the Empress Dowager’s favor from birth. The Empress Dowager loved Buddhist teachings, let alone that the Seventh Prince was born of the Empress’ Palace!

The Empress had served the Empress Dowager with utmost devotion over the years, and the Empress Dowager had long regarded her as a daughter. The initial reservations due to Fucha’s status had gradually faded.

Fucha had been personally chosen by the late Emperor as Hongli’s First Wife. Born into nobility, gentle and dignified, her conduct was impeccable—almost perfect.

At the time, Empress Xiaojing was still alive, and the Empress Dowager, then Noble Consort Xi, had little say in the matter. While she approved of the marriage, she couldn’t help feeling uneasy.

Fucha’s father was Li Rongbao, the Chief Administrator of Chahar, and her uncles were Ma Qi and Ma Wu. The Fucha clan was prosperous in male descendants, enjoying rare imperial favor—such status was indeed fitting for an Empress.

Niohuru, however, was merely the daughter of Lingzhu, a fourth-rank ceremonial official, who had entered the Yongzheng Emperor’s Residence Before Ascension in a modest sedan chair. Had she not borne Hongli, and had her son not excelled, she would have remained obscure all her life.

The comparison left Noble Consort Xi with lingering discomfort.

Would Fucha look down on her? Such a daughter-in-law had every right to be proud.

Yet Fucha showed no arrogance. She paid respects daily, kept her company, and even personally served meals—rain or shine—for many years.

When she was pregnant with Yonglian and suffering severe morning sickness, she still sent someone to apologize for her absence. That day, Noble Consort Xi’s eyes reddened, and she told Granny Gui, “To have such a daughter-in-law is my blessing.”

Hearts are made of flesh, after all.

Fucha treated Noble Consort Xi with sincerity—how could Noble Consort Xi not see it?

When Qianlong ascended the throne, Fucha became Empress, yet her devotion to Empress Dowager Niohuru remained unchanged. Last year, when the Empress miraculously conceived again, the Empress Dowager was overjoyed but shared Qianlong’s concern—she was no longer young.

Heaven took pity. Mother and child were safe, and the Seventh Prince was born with great fortune!

After sharing her sentiments with Granny Gui, the Empress Dowager felt a wave of drowsiness. She instructed Granny Gui, “This old one will take a short nap. When I wake, we shall visit the Palace of Eternal Spring to see the Seventh Prince… Open my treasury and see what treasures we can bestow upon the Empress…”

Granny Gui helped her onto the bed and smiled, “Rest assured, Your Majesty. This old servant remembers everything.”

“Yongcong! Yongcong! My Yongcong…” A woman with disheveled hair let out a heart-wrenching cry, clutching the lifeless child in her arms, her dignified demeanor shattered as she appeared utterly deranged. “He is my child! No one shall take him away!!”

The dream faded into a gray haze before dissolving into nothingness.

Yongcong woke up wailing loudly.

In the Warm Pavilion, the palace maids quickly changed his diaper and summoned the wet nurse. After being fed, the Seventh Prince opened his large, bright eyes, still glistening with tears.

The fortune-teller had been right—he truly was the reincarnation of Aixinjueluo Yongcong.

Memories from three lifetimes merged chaotically in his mind before finally settling into coherence. Yongcong’s muddled thoughts suddenly cleared, and he kicked his tiny feet, letting out a few incoherent sounds.

Was this a transmigration or a rebirth?

In his first life, he had been the two-year-old Yongcong. In his second, he became Ye Cong from the modern era. And now, after twists and turns, he had returned here.

His heart swelled with excitement, but once the initial thrill passed, Yongcong was consumed by worry.

It seemed Heaven could not bear to see Empress Fucha happy, casting its curses upon her children. Yonglian had succumbed to illness, leaving his mother devastated and bedridden for a long time. Seven years later, she finally conceived again and gave birth to another prince, only to lose him before he turned two.

The Empress never recovered from her grief and soon passed away.

His elder brother had lived to nine, his mother to thirty-six. He… had only made it to two.

Now that he was Yongcong again, could he survive beyond two this time?

No, forget two years.

In his first life, he had been an infant who understood nothing, with no concept of the palace intrigues. In his second, he lived in peaceful modern times, his knowledge of the Qing dynasty limited to history books and period dramas.

The dramas depicted the Qianlong era as a turbulent web of schemes, where consorts plotted against one another—poisoning today, causing miscarriages tomorrow…

Wouldn’t harming a defenseless infant be all too easy for them?

Yongcong burst into tears, wailing uncontrollably.

In a palace drama, he probably wouldn’t survive past three episodes.

“Why is the prince crying again?” Yu Momo asked, her heart aching at the sight of Yongcong’s flushed face. She turned to the wet nurse and maids, her tone sharp and stern. “Have you not been tending to him properly?”

The maids knelt, not daring to defend themselves. Then, the Empress’s gentle voice drifted over, “Babies cry often. There’s no need to blame them. Yu Momo, bring Yongcong to me…”

Mother!

This was his birth mother.

Without his past memories, Yongcong had only felt an instinctive fondness for Empress Fucha. Now, hearing her voice, tears gushed from his eyes as he cried pitifully.

The Empress took him into her arms, her heart aching. Though still somewhat frail, her beauty remained undiminished.

“Yongcong, Mother is here. Don’t cry, don’t cry,” she soothed softly, her finger gently entwining with his tiny hand. Yongcong instinctively grasped it, warmth flooding his palm.

As his tears were wiped away with a handkerchief, Yongcong stared up at Empress Fucha with wide eyes.

The baby’s vision was still blurry, but from what he could make out, she looked exactly as he remembered—beautiful and gentle, showering him with boundless love.

Yongcong had inherited his mother’s double eyelids.

Her deep brown eyes brimmed with affection as she gazed at the child in her arms.

“No more crying,” the Empress coaxed, gently curling his tiny hand in hers.

Yongcong’s wails subsided into silent tears, which soon dried as his mother praised, “What a good boy, Yongcong.”

…

Yongcong lay back in his comfortable cradle, eyes closed. No one would suspect such a tiny infant was contemplating life’s mysteries.

His heart swelled with warmth, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper. He had become Yongcong again and was reunited with his mother in her prime…

This time, he wouldn’t die at two years old!

It was the eleventh year of Qianlong’s reign. According to history, his elder brother Yonglian had died of illness in the third year. That meant his mother now only had his sister Hejing and himself to rely on.

Of course, there was also Qianlong, his imperial father. In his first life, he had been his father’s favorite…

Yongcong strained his memory—there was also the Empress Dowager, his Imperial Grandmother, who had seemed quite fond of him too.

He needed to rally every possible ally to protect his mother from that tragic historical fate!

As the only legitimate son in the palace, he was undoubtedly a thorn in others’ sides.

Historical records stated that Qianlong, insisting on succession by the legitimate heir, had already prepared a Secret Imperial Decree naming him crown prince. But when he died at two, the decree became void.

He must survive past that critical age, then strive to become the rightful crown prince, ensuring his mother’s long and happy life.

Buoyed by these grand ambitions, Yongcong momentarily swelled with heroic determination—only to deflate immediately upon returning to reality.

In his past life as Ye Cong, his teachers had praised his brilliant intellect, but intelligence couldn’t put food on the table.

His temperament could be charitably called adaptable, or less flatteringly—a lazy bum.

Without family, Ye Cong had to study relentlessly to make something of himself. He often dreamed that with loving relatives, he could idle away his days in blissful indolence…

Now reborn as Yongcong with doting family, he couldn’t afford to be lazy.

As the Empress’s only legitimate son, if he didn’t reach the pinnacle and claim the throne, would any new emperor spare him?

The answer was obvious even to a fool.

Yongcong: …

He felt like crying again.

After much internal struggle, he finally resolved: he would strive for excellence! Study diligently!

Of course, this all depended on surviving past two years old.

Kicking his feet drowsily, Yongcong drifted into sleep.

Much later, movement beyond the screen startled him awake as Yu Momo’s delighted voice rang out: “The Prince has returned!”

The Prince? Which prince?

Then a clear voice spoke: “Is Her Majesty well? Yonglian pays his respects.”

Yongcong’s eyes flew open.

Yonglian?!

His second brother wasn’t dead?!

Yongcong was stunned.

Opening his mouth wide, he let out incoherent babbles, drool trickling down his cheeks.