Chapter 43: Mosquitoes

Bright sunlight slanted in through the wide windows, casting golden patches on Wan Anran’s body. Her lips curved in a gentle smile, and her gaze was fixed steadily on the book before her. From time to time, she copied down a sentence or two onto the xuan paper. Her entire being radiated a clear message: at peace and content.

She had looked like this before too—so focused.

A man absorbed in work was particularly attractive, and the same could be said for a woman. Kangxi waved off the palace servants trying to greet him and tiptoed over to Wan Guiren’s side, peering curiously at the book she was reading.

“Record of the Customs of the Southwestern Barbarians? This is what you like? That’s quite rare,” Kangxi said with a slightly surprised but amused tone.

“…Your Majesty?” Wan Anran was startled.

Her hand froze. The wolf-hair brush in her hand trembled slightly, and the ink bled onto the xuan paper, leaving behind a deep black stain.

The entire sheet was ruined.

While she felt a pang of distress, the look she gave Kangxi was far from pleasant.

Kangxi, of course, didn’t feel the slightest embarrassment. On the contrary, he raised an eyebrow and criticized her for not concentrating while writing, saying she wasn’t studying seriously enough, and that this kind of behavior would only negatively affect the future little prince.

Wan Anran laughed angrily. “It might be a little princess.”

Kangxi shot her a sideways glance, not even bothering to argue. His eyes practically spelled out foolish woman. Yet he had already given it serious thought. If Wan Guiren gave birth to a princess, she would remain in Xianfu Palace. But if it were a prince, they would move her to the Palace of Embodied Excellence (Chuxiu Palace).

Chuxiu Palace currently had no concubine residing in it.

If Wan Guiren moved there and raised a prince, then a Consort rank would be the minimum required. But the woman standing in front of him had no idea of his intentions.

Perhaps that’s what made her trustworthy.

Kangxi lazily cast another glance at Wan Guiren. Seeing how her lips pouted as if they could hang an oil bottle, he didn’t argue further. Instead, he followed her train of thought: “If it’s a princess, then she all the more can’t be rash and impetuous like you. She should be graceful and composed, gentle and virtuous, with the demeanor befitting royalty.”

Rash and impetuous? Excuse me!

Wan Anran’s little face stretched long. If it weren’t for the fact that the man in front of her was the Emperor, she would’ve given his dog head a good beating. With a sullen expression, and stubborn as ever, she insisted on making herself clear: “If it’s a princess, how could she possibly be gentle and reserved? In my opinion, she should be a little domineering. I read in a book that all those gentle and reserved princesses from the previous dynasty were bullied to death by their prince consorts!”

“Then why don’t you mention those prince consorts who were beheaded or thrown into prison?” Kangxi chuckled helplessly.

Wan Guiren really was foolish.

Look at her! The child hasn’t even been born yet, and she’s already arguing with him about it. Kangxi massaged his forehead and sighed, “Besides, the consort I would choose wouldn’t be anything like that.”

Wan Anran: (⊙_⊙)

A vein popped on Kangxi’s forehead. His face darkened like the bottom of a pot as he explained patiently, “The previous dynasty had a law: Prince consorts and imperial sons-in-law were not permitted to hold official positions, and their sons couldn’t be assigned posts in the capital. Just this one clause was enough to make any ambitious, properly raised man unwilling to marry a princess. Even if the Emperor and Empress arranged the marriage, many still harbored resentment. As for marital harmony—forget it. It was extremely rare. Occasionally, there were exceptional individuals who were promoted, but they could never reach high office. It’s a pity—like Princess Shunde’s consort, Shi Tinggui…”

Kangxi even gave a few more examples.

For instance, in the early period of the previous dynasty, there was still a fondness for marrying into the families of high officials, and early prince consorts held relatively high status. But as the Zhu clan’s rule stabilized, their status plummeted. By the late period, as the court weakened, prince consorts became little more than symbolic figures, powerless and without influence. Their background and talents declined accordingly.

Wan Anran lost her earlier annoyance and listened with rapt attention. What she knew came mostly from what people said in later generations, things widely circulated or shown on television—nothing that delved into the detailed lives of specific prince consorts.

This was exactly the kind of gossip she enjoyed!

Seeing her propping her chin on her hand and staring at him without blinking, Kangxi felt quite pleased. He switched topics: “How could I ever make such a mistake?”

“Yes, yes, Your Majesty is brilliant.”

“Mm…” Kangxi nodded in satisfaction, but didn’t continue.

Wan Anran knew exactly what he was getting at.

She quickly picked up the teapot Hai Tao had brought, smiling brightly as she poured him a cup of fruit tea. “Your Majesty, this is my recent favorite—citrus tea. Please have a taste?”

Hai Tao opened her mouth to speak, but held back.

She could only watch as the Emperor took a sip—and immediately his face scrunched up.

Kangxi had never had such sour tea in his life.

He took a deep breath. “Bring me… a normal cup of tea.”

A glimmer of amusement flashed in Wan Anran’s eyes.

She sighed regretfully, “I recommended it to Your Majesty because I truly thought it was delicious.”

Kangxi didn’t bother replying.

Pregnant women’s tastebuds—absolutely untrustworthy!

Originally, Kangxi had planned to stay for dinner. But after tasting that miserable citrus tea, he told a few funny stories and quickly made his exit. Just thinking about a whole meal of overly sour dishes made his teeth ache.

Once Kangxi left, Wan Anran immediately felt like the sky was brighter, the air fresher, and even the chirping of birds sounded pleasant. She felt perfectly at ease.

Hai Tao was already numb to it all.

What else could she do? When the mistress herself didn’t care, how could they? Palace maids couldn’t just shove their mistress into favor with the Emperor, could they? Rather than pinning hopes on the Emperor, it was better to focus on the little one growing in her belly!

When Wan Anran got tired of copying texts, Hai Tao conveniently brought out a sewing kit. “Mistress, let’s make a few clothes for the little one, shall we?”

Wasn’t it too early for that?

Wan Anran initially wanted to refuse, but then considered her sewing skills… hmm. If she didn’t start this early, the child might be born before she could even finish one piece. With that in mind, she picked up a piece of fabric and began planning.

Meanwhile, back in Kunning Palace, Kangxi couldn’t help but complain.

He looked at his eldest princess, who had a gentle and reserved personality, and then thought of the cheerful and lively Third Princess from Consort Rong, and snorted coldly with arms crossed: “What goes on in Wan Guiren’s head all day?”

“What happened with Wan Guiren?” the Empress asked.

“I merely commented on her haphazard reading and writing, and she immediately started suspecting me! If her child turns out just like her—mischievous and unruly, with no proper conduct—what then?”

“…?” The Empress was baffled.

“Children should be like me—intelligent, resourceful, courageous, and composed,” Kangxi praised himself aloud.

The Empress’s delicate face twisted slightly.

Staring at the Emperor boasting away with his hands behind his back, her eyes were full of confusion. Once she understood what had transpired, Empress Niohuru let out a long, leisurely sigh. “If you ask me, Wan Guiren is a woman of great wisdom who hides it well.”

“…Empress, was that meant to be a compliment?”

“Ahem, what I mean is that Lady Wan has her own ideas, different from others,” the Empress said with a gentle cough, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“I really don’t see it,” Kangxi replied.

“Think about it, Your Majesty.” The Empress’s expression turned solemn, and her voice deepened with gravity. Her serious tone startled even Kangxi, whose expression turned equally serious. The Empress spoke in a low voice, “Your Majesty, nine out of ten Qing princesses will be sent to pacify the Mongols.”

Kangxi certainly didn’t deny it.

If he hadn’t considered this possibility, why else would he have taken the Eldest Princess into the palace and raised her himself? His gaze unconsciously drifted toward the princess.

The Eldest Princess’s face turned pale.

Though she was still young, she had long since heard whispers of this fate. Even now, she could still remember the sound of her birth mother wailing and clinging to her, begging not to be separated, the cries echoing in her ears.

The Empress glanced at the princess.

Her eyes held pain, but she steeled her heart and continued, “The Mongol princes are mostly frank and rough in temperament. If a princess is too quiet, gentle, and prone to overthinking, I fear she’ll find no common ground with the princes. Without the support of her husband, how can she seize any measure of authority among strangers? Rely on herself? But how can a meek and well-mannered princess do that?”

In the end, such a princess could only depend on her title and status to barely preserve herself. But isn’t that little different from living like a widow in a foreign land?

As she spoke, the Empress couldn’t help glancing again at the Eldest Princess.

The child was gentle and well-behaved, conducted herself with proper decorum, and ruled over her maids with a soft hand. Compared to social skills or martial training, her improvements in the arts—music, chess, calligraphy, and painting—were much more notable. If she remained like this…

The Empress pondered for a moment and quickly reached a conclusion.

After marrying into a Mongol clan, her husband would be off fighting or hunting most of the time, while the princess stayed at home. How would they have anything in common? At most, they’d be an ordinary couple, lacking real intimacy or cooperation.

If she were marrying into an ordinary household, that might be acceptable.

But an imperial princess sent to Mongolia was never just a marriage—she was a political bridge, a vital link between the Qing court and the Mongol tribes. Whether the princess could actively participate in tribal affairs became a critical issue.

If the Empress could see this, then of course Kangxi had already thought it through too. Why else would he have her study Mongolian and practice horseback riding from a young age? The Empress’s words merely elaborated further.

Kangxi looked thoughtful, his mind now exploring new ideas. Of course, he didn’t believe these were Lady Wan’s ideas—how could that fool think of such things? Looking at the Empress’s concerned gaze directed toward the princess, and then recalling Lady Wan’s defiant look, Kangxi decided it must be maternal instinct at play.

He smiled at the Empress and said, “I understand. You can rest assured, Empress.”

---

The days passed one by one.

The Salty Fortune Palace returned to its usual peaceful pace, but one thing deeply displeased Wan Anran—the weather was getting hotter by the day.

Though the Forbidden City appeared magnificent, it was hardly a pleasant place to live: freezing to the bone in winter, and scorching hot in summer, to the point where it left people dizzy. Even with one basin of ice after another brought in, Wan Anran was still drenched in sweat, lying motionless from the heat.

But she had to move.

In a time with no obstetricians or modern maternity care, where a safe childbirth relied entirely on the body’s natural ability, Wan Anran was determined to maintain her health and survive childbirth safely—preferably to live to a hundred years old.

Daily exercise was a must.

After walking three laps around Salty Fortune Palace, she felt like she’d been hauled out of a river.

Then Noble Lady Nara came up with an idea.

They took a sedan chair to Jingyang Palace. Compared to the lively Imperial Garden or the Cining Palace Garden, Jingyang Palace was always quiet.

Their target was the apricot trees in the backyard of Jingyang Palace.

They tied hemp rope to the sturdy branches and laid a wooden plank across—creating a simple swing. Wan Anran sat on it and gently rocked back and forth. In the shade of the trees, only the chirping of cicadas and birds could be heard. The sweltering frustration brought by the heat quietly faded.

But there was one problem.

Scratching at the mosquito bites on her arm, Wan Anran scrunched up her face. “There are way too many mosquitoes!”

People like cool, shady places, and apparently so do mosquitoes.

Both she and Noble Lady Nara ended up covered in bites. Wan Anran, in particular, had such a big bump on her eyelid that her eyes ended up uneven—one big, one small—giving her a comically lopsided look.

Damn mosquitoes.

We are mortal enemies from now on!

The palace did offer insect-repelling incense made from mugwort and wormwood, along with sachets worn on the body. So the next day, Wan Anran and Noble Lady Nara returned to Jingyang Palace armed with protection, and then…

They were defeated by mosquitoes again!

The mosquitoes seemed entirely unfazed by the repellent incense.

Eunuch Shi Shun looked mortified.

Clapping his chest, he swore he would ask the Imperial Household Department to install mosquito-repelling jars, electric bug zappers, or more potent incense to resolve the mosquito issue in the backyard as soon as possible.

But Wan Anran, ravaged by mosquito bites, had lost all faith in relying on others.

She decided she would have to solve this herself.

Mosquitoes, just you wait!

Next time this mistress comes back, it will be your doomsday.