Chapter 13 Copying Poetry

Yongcong’s pitiful wails broke Qianlong and the Empress’s hearts. It took them quite a while to soothe him until his sobs subsided into sniffles, his little face flushed red with distress.

Hejing hastily put away the pellet drum and offered an awkward smile, “Imperial Father…”

Yonglian, who had accompanied Qianlong after the court assembly to pay respects at the Palace of Eternal Spring, cleared his throat. Ignoring Hejing’s frantic eye signals, he calmly accepted the tea served by Yu Momo and took a sip.

Excellent tea.

Hejing received a “severe” punishment—Qianlong ordered her to copy one hundred pieces of his imperial poetry within three days, with neat handwriting and no slacking.

Hejing’s face instantly turned green.

Yongcong immediately stopped crying, feeling utterly delighted and satisfied inside!

The Emperor loved writing poetry, though his skill was rather lacking. Occasionally, a few decent pieces emerged, but such instances were exceedingly rare. Every year, scholars from the Hanlin Academy compiled his poems into volumes, which now numbered over a dozen. Every official in the capital had a copy, and some even studied them repeatedly, hoping to better flatter His Majesty by understanding his preferences.

Hejing regarded Qianlong’s poetry as a scourge, a sentiment that traced back to when she was six. Raised on his lap since childhood, her early education was personally guided by him—stroke by stroke—not to mention the occasional insertion of his own “masterpieces.”

Young Hejing knew no better. She found Li Taibai’s poems magnificent, Du Fu’s verses majestic, and her Imperial Father’s compositions… not bad either!

“One piece, another piece, and yet another piece, two pieces, three pieces, four or five pieces…” Hejing blinked her large, innocent eyes and asked her Imperial Father with pure curiosity, “Why does it stop at ‘six or seven pieces’? Aren’t there eleven or twelve pieces?”

The newly enthroned Emperor smiled triumphantly. “Three lines are enough. Come, let me teach you another poem…”

As the favored child, Hejing studied alongside several imperial concubines. The Empress had specially hired female tutors from outside the court, and none of the ministers dared object. Though ranked third among the princesses, Hejing was Qianlong’s eldest legitimate daughter and currently his only princess.

Once, a young imperial concubine asked six-year-old Hejing, “Which poem does the Princess like best?”

While others recited Nalan Rongruo’s elegant lines like “Over mountains and rivers,” Hejing recited with heartfelt admiration—

“One piece, another piece, and yet another piece, two pieces, three pieces, four or five pieces…”

She was met with a sea of shocked and dubious stares.

Deeply hurt, Hejing tearfully complained to Qianlong—why didn’t they appreciate Imperial Father’s poetry?

After a long pause, Qianlong summoned scholars from the Hanlin Academy. The next day, he carried Hejing over and pointed at the freshly added ink. “I’ve added a final line, and the entire meaning transforms. Repeat after me: ‘They vanish into the plum blossoms unseen!'”

Hejing pouted, her round face sulky.

She would never trust Imperial Father again.

As Hejing grew older, recalling her childhood antics still made her cringe. Copying Qianlong’s imperial poetry was, without a doubt, the cruelest punishment in the world—bar none!

…

Hejing trudged off, utterly dejected.

Yonglian, unable to bear it, pleaded for his sister. “Hejing still has etiquette lessons in the mornings. Isn’t this punishment a bit too harsh?”

“What’s so heavy about it? When princes first begin their studies, they must write fifty pages of calligraphy practice daily. As they grow older, copying a hundred poems each day is nothing difficult. A hundred pages over three days is already His Majesty showing exceptional mercy!” Yongcong waved his plump, lotus-root-like arms indignantly.

Qianlong held Yongcong in his arms, pinching the child’s chubby cheeks while giving him a sidelong glance. “Do you want to copy them too?” he retorted.

Yonglian immediately fell silent.

His Majesty spent nearly every night at the Palace of Eternal Spring, taking both lunch and dinner with the Empress. It was even said he had Wu Shulai bring over memorials for review—it seemed he wished to make the palace his permanent residence!

How could this be tolerated?

Even back at the Residence Before Ascension, Fucha had been the most favored consort. Now as Empress, she still reigned supreme in the harem, with His Majesty spending half his nights in her chambers month after month.

The others could neither compete nor contend, having long resigned themselves to fate over the years. Some had submitted memorials of complaint, only to be denounced by the entire court—”Harmony between sovereign and consort stabilizes the nation’s foundation. This is the most ideal situation—how dare you impeach it?!”

The Fucha clan flourished, their marital alliances spanning half the court. Combined with Qianlong’s partiality toward them, the Empress’s position remained unshakable, with no one in the harem daring to challenge her authority.

Moreover, the Empress was virtuous and gentle, leaving no room for criticism, and enjoyed the Empress Dowager’s support… Gradually, the consorts ceased their struggles, realizing they could never surpass the Empress.

And now there was the Seventh Prince! Observing how he received even greater favor than Prince Duan—with His Majesty carrying him about constantly, visiting the Palace of Eternal Spring straight after court sessions, sometimes still in imperial robes—it was unbearable!

During the Empress’s postpartum confinement, His Majesty stayed at the Hall of Mental Cultivation, occasionally visiting high-ranking consorts during the day but never spending nights with them. Once the Empress recovered, His Majesty began visiting the Palace of Eternal Spring daily, displaying undivided devotion!

The Forbidden City practically reeked of jealousy. Young, beautiful noble ladies and constant companions puzzled endlessly—what were they lacking?

The Empress was already in her thirties. Even with meticulous care, how could she compare to their youthful freshness?

The Empress had established a rule of paying respects every five days. On the first and fifteenth of each month, she would lead the consorts to pay homage to the Empress Dowager at the Palace of Longevity and Health. The Empress Dowager, devoted to Buddhist practices, stayed aloof from harem affairs—yet none dared underestimate Her Majesty.

The world knew the Emperor was filial, and the Empress had won the Empress Dowager’s favor through her own devotion. Shu Pin subtly hinted during a visit, mentioning the Emperor hadn’t visited the harem for a month.

Consort Chun and others understood perfectly—not visiting the harem? He was visiting only the Palace of Eternal Spring!

The Empress Dowager’s smile faded slightly.

Consort Jia’s heart leapt—this time the Empress would face reprimand.

“The Seventh Prince is still young. The Emperor dotes on him and wishes to see him daily. Not just the Emperor—even this old one can’t bear to be apart from him!” The Empress Dowager’s sharp gaze swept over Shu Pin. “Have you brought your petty jealousies before me?”

Her tone remained calm, yet Shu Pin broke into cold sweat, immediately kneeling and kowtowing.

Shu Pin had only recently entered the palace. Initially favored, her quarters had become practically deserted since the Empress’s pregnancy. Coming from an eminent family and raised in privilege, she had been granted the rank of Pin upon entry—her pride remained high. Shu Pin believed the Empress Dowager wouldn’t tolerate the Emperor’s exclusive favor toward the Empress!

The hall fell silent. The Empress maintained her gentle smile, saying only, “Imperial Mother, please calm your anger.”

After paying respects, Shu Pin was punished by The Empress Dowager to copy Buddhist scriptures. His Majesty wanted to place her under house arrest, but it was the Empress who persuaded him otherwise. The imperial consorts no longer dared to comment on the matter of exclusive favor.  

That day, Qianlong had finished his evening meal at the Palace of Eternal Spring and was amusing himself with Yongcong, who was learning to roll over on the couch. The little one’s feet kicked and wriggled as he lay on his stomach, motionless like a tiny turtle.  

A broad smile graced Qianlong’s face.  

At that moment, Wu Shulai softly reported from behind the curtain, “The Fourth Prince has fallen ill. Consort Jia requests Your Majesty’s presence.”