Chapter 11 Concubine

The entire court once again witnessed the extent of Seventh Prince Yongcong’s favor. Lord Zhang’s residence suddenly became a bustling hub, with his disciples, old acquaintances, and those seeking connections arriving in an endless stream.

As the leader who presented the congratulatory essay, Lord Zhang was poised to soar to great heights!

Upon hearing about the Grand Court Assembly, the imperial consorts reacted differently.

The low-ranking concubines without children were once again astonished by Seventh Prince’s favor. Though they harbored no deep jealousy, they lacked both imperial favor and backing. Yet, their daily allowances were always intact—all thanks to the Empress’s compassion.

Some concubines even remarked, “Her Majesty is a Bodhisattva from heaven, and Seventh Prince is the child at her feet. Even the ministers agree!”

Consort Chun’s earlier restless thoughts gradually subsided. Holding Sixth Prince Yongrong gently, she whispered, “When Seventh Prince grows older, Mother will take you to the Palace of Eternal Spring to play. You must be kind to your younger brother, understand?”

Sixth Prince Yongrong nodded slightly and said in a childish voice, “Third Brother said Yongcong is Second Brother’s full brother. I like Seventh Brother.”

Consort Chun froze for a moment, her gaze turning complex. Yongzhang was a kind but somewhat naive child, and she had worried endlessly, fearing his straightforward nature would offend others. Yet, as the saying goes, fortune favors the simple-minded—Yongzhang had clung to Prince Duan’s coattails since childhood.

As a result, Yongrong also idolized Prince Duan.

Looking down at her youngest son’s innocent face, she thought, *Enough. As a Han woman, reaching the position of Consort Chun was already heaven’s mercy. What unrealistic future could I still hope for?*

Yongzhang and Yongrong being close to Prince Duan—this was an unimaginable blessing!

With the last trace of resentment gone, Consort Chun smiled and pulled Yongrong onto her lap. “Yongrong is so well-behaved.”

Consort Jia pinched her nose and finished the bitter pregnancy tonic. Her nanny hurriedly handed her candied fruit, watching her with deep concern.

Earlier, upon hearing about the Grand Court Assembly, Her Ladyship had become so agitated that she suffered a threatened miscarriage, terrifying the nanny, who immediately sent for the imperial physician.

After everyone withdrew, Consort Jia could no longer suppress her resentment. “Why?!”

Why was Fucha born into a noble family? Why did the late emperor choose her as the First Wife? Why did she enjoy smooth sailing, possessing both status and favor, with even her newborn prince standing apart from others?

Unlike her—who had lived cautiously in the Residence Before Ascension, enduring hardship for years. Only after her father became the Minister of Personnel did she rise to the rank of consort by virtue of her son. Yet she still lacked favor, always falling short compared to Fucha!

A few days ago, Yongcheng returned from the Imperial Study and asked her, “Where has Imperial Father been lately? He used to visit the study to examine my lessons, but he hasn’t come for days.”

What could she say?

That His Majesty spent every day in the Palace of Eternal Spring playing with Seventh Prince?

She could only reply, “The Emperor is busy with state affairs. He will visit you in a few days.”

…

Consort Jia clutched her round belly, her heart pounding—she had nearly lost the child.

Her beautiful face was deathly pale, filled with lingering fear and even more hatred.

*The Empress! Yongcong!*

The nanny knelt on the floor, kowtowing repeatedly. “Your Ladyship, even if you won’t think of yourself, think of the little prince! Flowers do not bloom forever—momentary favor means nothing. Only those who live to the end are truly blessed!”

Gradually, Consort Jia’s eyes brightened, and the pain in her belly slowly eased.

“You’re right,” she murmured. “That makes sense. Deep affection does not last, extreme wisdom brings harm. What does great fortune matter? Haven’t we seen enough young princes and imperial concubines perish in this palace?”

The maidservant looked up and saw that Her Highness’s emotions had calmed somewhat, her tone gentler. She breathed an inward sigh of relief – it was good that Her Highness was no longer obsessing over the Empress and the Seventh Prince.

Pregnancy naturally brought emotional turbulence. In the past, Her Highness would have calmly strategized, but now with the young prince soon to be born, she lacked the energy for schemes. So the maidservant continued advising: “Safeguarding the pregnancy is most crucial…”

Consort Jia remained silent for several breaths. “I won’t attend tomorrow’s greetings.”

The maidservant acknowledged, “This old servant will send word to the Palace of Eternal Spring…”

“Consort Jia summoned the imperial physician yesterday, claiming threatened miscarriage. She won’t attend tomorrow’s greetings,” Yu Momo announced as she lifted the curtain. Seeing the Empress sitting beside Yongcong’s peaceful slumber, she lowered her voice to avoid waking the Seventh Prince.

Yongcong’s sleeping face was rosy. Being fed at regular intervals, he had grown plump with two chubby cheeks, his little mouth smacking as if dreaming of something delicious.

The Empress smiled faintly, gently poking his chubby cheek before moving to the outer chamber with Yu Momo.

“She’s becoming increasingly unreasonable,” the Empress remarked mildly. “I’d long exempted her from greetings, yet last time she insisted on coming. Nothing like her former composure.”

Yu Momo agreed, “Consort Jia wasn’t like this before.”

In her previous life, there had been no Grand Court Assembly incident, nor any threatened miscarriage from Consort Jia. Likely provoked by Yongcong’s favor.

The Empress gradually lost herself in thought.

In that past life when Yongcong passed, she had nearly gone mad, clinging desperately to that small form. By the time he was encoffined, she had become mute with grief.

The Emperor too was nearly driven mad. He’d pleaded, “Jing Shu, look at me! You still have Hejing, you still have me.”

Coming to their senses, they wept bitterly for three days and nights. When they finally investigated the smallpox source, all traces had been erased.

She had awakened too late – the perpetrator had long since cleaned all evidence, leaving her child to die without explanation.

From then on, she saw potential murderers everywhere. Constantly suspicious, she made the concubines dread their five-day greetings, for the Empress had changed – no longer virtuous and composed.

Similarly, her control over the harem waned, authority gradually transferring to Consort Xian. Only Consort Chun genuinely respected her, visiting during illness while carefully avoiding mention of children to spare her grief.

Thus she endured until the thirteenth year of Qianlong’s reign, when she could bear no more.

The Emperor carefully took her on an eastern tour, saying, “Jing Shu, let me distract you. We’ll have more children. I’ll protect them well, make them Qing’s crown princes, alright?”

What had she replied?

She’d said, “I want my Yonglian and Yongcong back.”

Returning to the capital by boat at Dezhou, in her daze she saw nine-year-old Yonglian holding little Yongcong’s hand. They smiled at her by the window, calling brightly, “Imperial Mother.”

She could continue no longer. Were it not for her ties to the Emperor, to Hejing, to the Fucha family, she would have followed Yongcong that very day he died.

Now she clearly felt her end approaching. Perhaps this was for the best.

The only one she had wronged was Hongli…

What came after death, she did not know, but she had left behind many contingencies. That arrogant Consort Jia, who had flaunted her pride after her son’s death, must be suffering greatly now?

…

“Your Majesty?” Yu Momo called softly.

The Empress snapped out of her thoughts and spoke quietly, “The title of Consort Jia suits her better after all, don’t you think?”