Concubine of the Eastern Palace (Qing Dynasty Time Travel)

In the evening, Cheng Wanyun stared blankly at a table full of tribute satin, fine gauze, and kesi (silk tapestry).

On another table, there were jewelry boxes stacked high like little mountains, varying in size. The materials and craftsmanship of the boxes were exceptional. She casually opened one, and was so shocked that she hurriedly closed it again. Could the Crown Prince really think she would be able to use all these things?

At least the enamel vases and porcelain carvings on the floor were things she could display.

Besides these, there was actually a delicate self-ringing clock among the gifts from the Crown Prince. The clock was embedded in the top, and beneath it was a square Huanghuali wood box. The box’s exterior was gilded with swirling floral patterns, exquisitely carved.

The items had been personally delivered by He Baizhong, who didn’t leave immediately but stood by, waiting. When he saw Cheng Wanyun showing interest in the self-ringing clock, he smiled and moved closer. “Gege, you’ll find something special inside this!”

He opened the box, and inside was a multi-tiered antique shelf with several small drawers inlaid with cloisonné enamel panels for storing things. He grinned and said, “The Crown Prince said this would make a perfect vanity box for you.” Then, he turned the clock around, revealing a silk painting mounted on the glass back. It depicted the ancient path of Mount Huang, accompanied by a poem.

“Hundreds of miles of Huangshan are a scroll of paintings, with the ancient road lined with ten thousand pines.”

He Baizhong, seeing her lost in the painting, continued, “This is the Crown Prince’s own handwriting.”

Just like the fabrics and porcelain that were carefully selected in celadon color, even the painting on the back of the clock depicted landscapes from Huizhou. He Baizhong said that everything had been personally chosen by the Crown Prince. She believed him, and was even a bit touched.

So the Crown Prince had noticed that she missed home.

If she were to analyze it in detail, maybe it wasn’t exactly that she missed home. She had originally planned that if she were not selected, she would stay in the Cheng family as a spinster, traveling with Master Cheng to various places for official duties, and taking the opportunity to explore the great land of China.

But now that thought was no longer possible. Occasionally, she felt regret and longed for the days in Huizhou County.

Many times, concubines and noblewomen in the palace could not openly express their longing for home, as it might be seen as dissatisfaction with the royal family. So she had never voiced it. However, the Crown Prince noticed, and instead of reprimanding her, he silently remembered it.

This thoughtfulness was somewhat rare.

Cheng Wanyun couldn’t figure out why the Crown Prince suddenly rewarded her with so many things. She hadn’t done anything yesterday. Was it because of the barbecue she ate late at night, or did he simply enjoy the way she behaved in the daytime, so calm and unassuming?

She hadn’t expected the Crown Prince, who seemed so obedient, to be so reserved yet passionate.

Actually, in her heart, Cheng Wanyun secretly thought of the Crown Prince as a “good boy.”

He reminded her of a classmate she had before—someone from a wealthy family, excellent in academics, with highly educated parents who had very high expectations of him. He had to work hard to always be the top student, trying to win his parents’ approval.

So when He Baizhong was about to leave, she casually asked if the Crown Prince was around because she wanted to thank him.

He Baizhong, with his hands behind his back, smiled like the Buddha, “The Crown Prince has gone to Qianqing Palace to pay his respects. He told me to inform you, Gege, that you should just keep the gifts, no need to thank him.”

Cheng Wanyun silently prayed in her heart, hoping that it wasn’t because the Crown Prince had been called for a scolding by Emperor Kangxi.

She had always felt that the relationship between Emperor Kangxi and the Crown Prince was somewhat complicated, though she couldn’t put her finger on it. People often said that there was no true familial affection in the imperial family; the father-son relationship was caught in the system of ruler and ministers, which made things awkward, and that seemed to be the norm.

But she always felt like Emperor Kangxi was trying to imitate the father-son relationship between Zhu Chongba and Zhu Biao, yet he failed to recreate it.

Firstly, the Ming and Qing dynasties were entirely different political systems. Secondly, Emperor Zhu Chongba and Empress Ma had a deep and affectionate bond, and many of their children were either born or raised by Empress Ma, with no powerful concubines in the imperial harem. As for Emperor Kangxi, not only did he have the Empress Dowager, the Empress, and the Four Concubines, but there were also numerous concubines and noblewomen from the Eight Banners and prominent families, all of whom had complex political entanglements.

Most importantly, Zhu Biao had a mother by his side growing up, but the Crown Prince did not.

If Empress Hesheri were still alive, the Crown Prince wouldn’t be in such a difficult position now, Cheng Wanyun sighed.

She didn’t know if it was because of her silent prayer, but this time, Emperor Kangxi didn’t call Yinreng to scold him. He was a ruler with a strong desire for control, not just over his empire and ministers, but also over his own sons. He had a powerful need to maintain control over everything.

So when he heard about the “sharing the cake” incident from Liang Jiugong, he felt a sense of satisfaction.

He immediately summoned people and, naturally, had some words of encouragement for the Crown Prince.

When Yinreng received the imperial order, he had just entered the Yuqing Palace. He quickly changed his clothes, and in the rush, he remembered how Li Dequan had subtly informed him while keeping watch in the study, telling him that Emperor Kangxi was angry over Galdan’s military report and had been in long meetings with ministers all day without taking a break for snacks.

He ordered the kitchen to make a few more rolled-up flatbreads and send them to Qianqing Palace.

When they arrived at the palace gates, a eunuch from the kitchen caught up with him, and Yinreng took the food box himself.

Emperor Kangxi was standing behind a large golden nanmu desk, wearing a bright yellow dragon robe with intricate dragon patterns. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and he was holding a brush, finishing a calligraphy piece. He looked up and saw Yinreng walking over with the food box and smiled, saying, “What good thing is this that you brought yourself?”

“When Father Emperor sees it, you’ll know,” Yinreng replied as he approached and performed the proper greeting.

Emperor Kangxi raised his hand, signaling him to rise, and ordered the eunuchs to clear away the writing materials. His keen nose picked up the scent, and when Yinreng opened the food box, it revealed three hot, freshly made flatbreads.

“I heard you’ve been so busy that you haven’t had any snacks or dinner,” Yinreng said as he presented the plate. “Father Emperor, I must boldly say that no matter what important matters there are, you shouldn’t joke with your health.”

Kangxi was momentarily stunned, then burst into laughter. “Your words are exactly like your grandmother’s.”

Just that afternoon, an old maidservant sent by the Empress Dowager had scolded him, but instead of being angry, he had actually enjoyed hearing the Empress Dowager’s caring, though somewhat nagging, words.

Now that the Crown Prince said the same thing, it made him feel even more comforted.

Yinreng also smiled. “If you don’t listen to your son, you should at least listen to grandmother, right? It’s not too late to mend the situation now. Please try it, Father Emperor. My brothers and I all think it’s good—simple and convenient.”

Kangxi was a frugal person. When he was busy, he didn’t like to fuss over things. He usually ate whatever the imperial kitchen had prepared, just a quick bite. He didn’t pay much attention to meals, since he had set the rules for the imperial kitchen, and he was familiar with the regular offerings. He wouldn’t particularly focus on such small details.

At that moment, he picked up a flatbread with his chopsticks, took a bite, and nodded. “This is better than pastries. Liang Jiugong, from now on, have them bring this. A few bites and it’s done, won’t delay anything.”

This dish was certainly easier to make than pastries.

Liang Jiugong hurriedly bowed and agreed.

Seeing that Kangxi was enjoying the food, Yinreng felt relieved.

The flatbreads he brought to Qianqing Palace were different from his own. Kangxi liked beef and mutton, so the filling in the ones he brought was braised beef with a couple of slices of cucumber, all brushed with sweet soybean paste.

Yinreng had made the decision to change after hearing A Wan’s talk about how “family bonds need to be nurtured.”

That night, A Wan quickly fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. Yinreng, however, closed his eyes and reflected. He realized that he hadn’t shown enough concern for his father, Kangxi. While the emperor had always been strict with him, it was because he paid attention to even the smallest details of his life.

In the palace, it was easy to disregard others, but Yinreng had grown up in front of Kangxi. From childhood to adulthood, aside from the emperor, the people around him were mostly servants. He should have been more attentive to his father than others.

Unfortunately, he had never thought of it that way. Whenever Kangxi praised his elder brother or other younger brothers, sometimes Yinreng couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

It was because Kangxi was always more focused on his faults than offering praise.

Even when he was young, he had anxiously thought that Kangxi might not actually like him.

He had heard many rumors before. When he was born, the court was in a difficult situation. Kangxi hadn’t fully gained control over the hearts of the Han officials, the remnants of the Ming forces were scattered, the three feudal lords in the south were causing turmoil again, and there were many uprisings. The movement to restore the Ming dynasty wasn’t limited to the Han Society—it was widespread among the people.

He had overheard eunuchs gossiping, saying that making him the crown prince was merely a reluctant decision based on weighing the pros and cons. They said that Kangxi didn’t particularly like him as a son, that he wasn’t as skilled in martial arts as his eldest brother nor as cultured as his third brother. He was just lucky to be born to Empress Hesheri, and it was only for the sake of stabilizing the dynasty and winning over the Han literati that the heir was established.

He had been deeply upset by these words when he was young.

And it seemed as though Kangxi’s increasing harshness towards him was a confirmation of these rumors.

Looking back now, who among the palace servants would dare to spread such rumors to the emperor’s ear? It must have been intentionally arranged for him to hear. His establishment as crown prince had likely harmed many people’s interests.

Now, Yinreng was beginning to understand more clearly. A Wan was right. There was no need for him to compete with his eldest brother or others for position. He only needed to genuinely care for Kangxi and fulfill his responsibilities as crown prince.

First, he was a son; second, he was the crown prince.

If he always kept his distance from Kangxi in the name of the ruler-subject relationship, that would truly be foolish! Didn’t he see that when Kangxi had been scolded by the Empress Dowager, he seemed even happier afterward? He didn’t feel that the Empress Dowager was overstepping her bounds, nor did he wonder why she had such keen ears to know what was happening in Qianqing Palace. It was clear that Kangxi valued the father-son relationship above the ruler-subject one!

He had previously pushed himself too hard, which led to so many worries.

He should be more open-hearted like A Wan.

After all, who is perfect and doesn’t make mistakes? If such a person existed, wouldn’t they be even more worrisome?

His eldest brother had many flaws, yet Kangxi always took him along for the autumn hunting and southern tours! On the other hand, it was always him who stayed in the capital, though there was a reason for the crown prince to remain behind to guard the country, it wasn’t the only reason.

With the change in the crown prince’s mindset, the atmosphere in the entire Yuqing Palace also felt different.

In the past, the eunuchs and palace maids in Yuqing Palace dared not act with arrogance or even argue, because even the smallest mistake by a servant could be magnified with someone secretly stirring up trouble, eventually placing the blame squarely on the crown prince’s shoulders. As the master, the crown prince wouldn’t suffer, but for the servants, it could cost them their lives. Therefore, the people in Yuqing Palace were often very cautious, fearing that even the smallest mistake could cost them their positions. But now, the crown prince had become more lenient, and his punishments had softened. Since the master was no longer angry, why should the servants continue to show resistance?

Yinreng used to visit Qianqing Palace every morning and evening to pay his respects, but each time he went, he felt as though there were needles pricking his back, afraid of saying or doing something wrong that might lead to a scolding. So, he would only say a few words and leave. Now, if Kangxi had time, he would stay and have a light snack with him or play chess together. If Kangxi was too busy to pay him attention, he would help by sorting through the memorials Kangxi had already reviewed.

Sorting through the memorials was a task that required both time and effort.

The memorials weren’t just reviewed and done with; they had to be categorized by date, province, and subject. For instance, routine memorials such as those for greetings, thanks, or congratulations were one category, while internal affairs and military reports were another, and general petitions were yet another.

After the memorials were reviewed, most of them had to be returned to the person who submitted them. Once sorted, they were placed in baskets and taken out by the eunuchs. However, some memorials that Kangxi considered important or still needed further consideration were kept in the palace, a process referred to as “kept in the palace” or “remain.” Yinreng’s job was to help sort through these important memorials.

This was a privilege and also a special right of the crown prince. To this day, he was the only one allowed to touch Kangxi’s desk.

Given this special treatment, it was hard to believe that he had once doubted that Kangxi didn’t like him.

Yinreng couldn’t help but feel a little incredulous.

When Kangxi returned from the front, he saw several large wooden boxes in Yinreng’s room. Each wooden box was labeled with words like “Kangxi 26th Year Memorial – One” and “Kangxi 27th Year Greeting Memorial – Two.”

Yinreng cleared out the old memorials that Kangxi had carelessly piled in the baskets, then opened each one to check, marking on the tags the date and the issue, like “Year X, Month X, Day X, Memorial from XX person about XX.” He would then instruct the eunuchs to place each memorial in a specific wooden box, ensuring the memorials were stood upright with the tags visible outside the boxes, making it easier to search through them later.

Each wooden box contained only one category of memorials, organized by month, from the beginning of the year to the end.

Kangxi was quite surprised when he saw it and stood with his hands behind his back, thoughtfully observing for a while. “How did you come up with this idea?”

It was strange to see the crown prince handling the memorials like a clerk, but Kangxi had to admit, this method was quite effective.

Kangxi himself wasn’t one to pay attention to small details. He disliked being cooped up in the palace to ponder people’s hearts or study rules and regulations. He preferred riding horses in the wilderness, going on southern tours, and hunting. At his core, he was still a traditional Manchu.

This was also one of the reasons why the eldest prince was favored.

Therefore, Kangxi would casually toss aside the memorials he needed to keep, and over time, when there was no more room on his desk, they would pile up in baskets. Every day, Liang Jiugong would replace the old basket with a new one, and the old ones would be left in the study.

Yinreng spent one or two hours organizing the memorials, wiping his sweat as he said, “Father, you’re so busy usually, I wanted to save you some time. Look, by organizing them like this, it’ll be much easier to find them in the future.”

After all, some of these memorials were confidential and could not be seen by others. The eunuchs were mostly illiterate, and when Kangxi occasionally needed to find a memorial, he had to search for it himself without knowing where to start.

Now that Kangxi tried it himself, he found it much easier to find what he needed. The tags were clear and straightforward. He nodded and said, “This is a good method. Have the Imperial Household Department learn from this.”

Yinreng smiled and agreed.

This was something he had learned from A Wan.

The day he rewarded her with so many items, he had noticed her way of organizing things was different from others.

Later, he realized that her storage room was also organized differently!

Yinreng’s own storage room was stacked with one chest after another, each labeled with vague descriptions of what was inside and when it was received. But over time, who could remember those ambiguous descriptions? The only way to find things was by going through the list and opening each chest, which not only made it difficult to search but also made inventory management a laborious task.

Although there were many people serving underneath, each storage room had someone specifically in charge of different items—one for furs and satin, one for gold and silverware, one for calligraphy supplies—and each person was clear about what they were responsible for. However, with so many items, and with Yinreng not always remembering the specifics, it was easy for the servants to take advantage and steal.

Cheng Wanyun’s storage room was organized with tall, sturdy wooden shelves. Each shelf was clearly divided into layers, with large labels hanging on them, reading “Cloth,” “Porcelain,” “Furniture,” and so on.

Each category had its own separate ledger, and each item was labeled with a number.

For example, if one needed a specific type of brocade, the label on that shelf would read “Cloth—Brocade,” and each piece of brocade was covered with a cotton-linen dust cover. Aban explained that this was called a dust cover, and it had embroidered details reading “Cloth—Brocade—2806—Pink Flowers,” indicating that it was a pink embroidered brocade from the 28th year of Kangxi’s reign (1689).

The exact placement of each item was also numbered, and A Wan’s ledger was drawn with horizontal and vertical lines, creating a grid. The top of each grid had the label “Storage Management Detailed List,” and each item had a corresponding category, storage date, quantity, placement, person who stored it, and person responsible for it.

She had one person assigned to manage the entire storage room.

The eunuch in charge of the storage room had learned how to create these detailed ledgers. Every five days, he would do an inventory check, sign the ledger after each round, and he could immediately spot if something was misplaced or even missing.

Yinreng found this method particularly effective and praised A Wan highly.

Cheng Wanyun, however, was silent.

In reality, it was just a simplified version of Excel, and she actually thought it was a bit inefficient. The greatest strength of Excel wasn’t just the tables but its automatic calculation and statistical capabilities. Hand-drawn ledgers couldn’t generate pivot tables or set automatic formulas… But fortunately, Tianyin was very skilled at using an abacus.

Moreover, she didn’t just have inventory management tables; she also kept detailed records of all the eunuchs and maids in the inner chambers, including information about their family members, whether their parents were farmers or small business owners, and how many children they had. She updated the personnel records every year. Recently, she even secretly introduced a staff management system, which included standards for wages, attendance, and year-end bonuses… Sigh.

So, although her little courtyard had a simple staff, it was actually run like a proper business!

She felt that with her position, there was no need to seek fame. Being too ostentatious wouldn’t be good, so she kept it all to herself for convenience. Who would have thought the Crown Prince would discover it and end up using it in Kangxi’s study?

She hadn’t even known about it until the Crown Prince called two eunuchs from the Imperial Workshop to measure the dimensions of the shelves in her storage room.

Cheng Wanyun: “…”

Yinreng was excited: “I want to make a few of these shelves for the Emperor to hold books.”

Cheng Wanyun: “…”

In the Qianqing Palace… Kangxi’s study… with book shelves.

Wouldn’t people visiting the Forbidden City over two hundred years later be a bit confused?

Of course, Cheng Wanyun was clearly overthinking. How could something for the Emperor be simple? In the eyes of the Imperial Workshop, the craftsmanship required to make shelves for a small princess was completely different from making them for the Emperor.

First of all, the wood used was different. For the Emperor, they had to use huanghuali or golden silk nanmu, whereas Cheng Wanyun’s shelves were made of beechwood with a layer of clear lacquer, making them resemble regular shelves. The only difference was that her shelves were made of wood, while future shelves would be made of iron.

Kangxi’s shelves naturally had to be carved, and the best craftsmen had to be chosen for that.

In the end, the result was very beautiful. The large shelves could not only hold all his books but also display many of his collections. Kangxi even adjusted their positions himself, and in the end, the shelves were not placed against the wall. Instead, they served as a partition, dividing his space for reviewing memorials into two areas.

Not only did it look neat and refreshing, but there was also a sense of governance and ruling the nation with the vast sea of books as a backdrop, creating a fully immersive atmosphere!

Kangxi’s hand seemed even more powerful as he reviewed the memorials.

At first, Cheng Wanyun was quite worried, but after hearing that Kangxi had rewarded the Crown Prince heavily, she breathed a sigh of relief.

As July came, the weather grew increasingly hot. During this time, Kangxi’s rewards to the Crown Prince became more frequent, but the atmosphere in Yuqing Palace grew even more tense, and no one dared show a hint of a joyful smile.

Because the atmosphere in the palace had become increasingly tense.

The Empress Dowager Tong Jia was bedridden.

The imperial doctors knelt all over the floor, and Kangxi sat silently beside Tong Jia’s bed, his face grim, saying nothing.

Yesterday, upon hearing of Tong Jia’s critical condition, Kangxi hurried back to the Forbidden City from Changchun Garden, but by the time he arrived, Tong Jia had already fallen into a coma. Despite the doctors’ best efforts, they could not save her as she gradually slipped away.

This morning, Tong Jia briefly regained consciousness, though her mind was unclear. It took her a while to recognize the hand of Kangxi, who was silently shedding tears while holding her hand. She forced a smile on her pale face, almost tinged with a blue hue.

“Cousin.”

Kangxi suddenly looked up.

Tong Jia continued speaking intermittently about past events, and Kangxi’s heart was torn with pain as he listened.

When it was the 20th year of Kangxi’s reign, the mourning period for Empress Xiaozhaoren had passed for three years. Everyone thought that the empress’s throne would be handed to Tong Jia, but after much consideration, Kangxi only issued an edict to promote Tong Jia to “Empress Dowager Tong Jia” and also arranged for her family to be moved from the Han Army Banner to the Manchu Yellow Banner.

Everyone said it was because he didn’t want the “Tong clan to gain more influence and disrupt the balance of power in the court,” nor did he want the Fourth Prince, whom Empress Dowager Tong Jia had raised, to become another empress’s legitimate son, thus threatening the Crown Prince’s position.

But in reality, apart from these obvious reasons, he was mostly reluctant to do so. She had poor health, and he feared he would cause her harm.

But in the end, it was he who had wronged his cousin.

He stood hesitating at the entrance of Jingren Palace, afraid that Tong Jia might hold some resentment toward him.

But Tong Jia smiled and pulled him into the room. “Cousin, I understand your intentions.”

She did not harbor any grievance against him or the Crown Prince. She had continued to manage the inner palace meticulously as always, caring for each prince and princess, being filial and considerate toward the Empress Dowager, allowing him to be free of any concerns in the court.

He was only thirty-six this year, yet he had already seen off his parents, his first wife, and his grandmother. And now…

His cousin was about to leave him as well.

Kangxi stayed by Tong Jia’s side at Jingren Palace through the night, ordering all memorials from various departments to be sent to the cabinet. The only time he left was when Tong Jia once again coughed up blood and fell unconscious. His eyes red, he hurriedly went to Ning Shou Palace.

The next morning, the Empress Dowager issued a decree, requesting the Emperor to elevate Tong Jia to Empress.

On July 9th, the Ministry of Internal Affairs prepared everything needed for the Empress’s enthronement in a single day. Kangxi personally wrote the edict to declare Tong Jia as Empress and sent it to all corners of the empire. Before this, there had been no precedent for such an edict to appoint an empress.

Kangxi valued tradition greatly, yet for the sake of the elusive hope of “reversing bad fortune and seeking blessings,” he decided to make repeated exceptions for Tong Jia. He hoped that this act would restore her health and also wanted to make up for the regret that she had never been properly married to him as his wife.

Sadly, two days later, things did not go as he had hoped.

Before she passed away, Empress Tong Jia called for Fourth Prince Yinzhen, the child she had raised for eleven years. Now, as she lay dying, he was the one she was most reluctant to part with. She mustered all her strength to lift her hand and gently stroke Yinzhen’s face. “When your mother is gone, you must not stay in Jingren Palace anymore.”

Yinzhen, tears streaming down his face, looked up in shock.

“Give away the people I arranged for you… Let Consort De choose new ones for you…” Tong Jia coughed a few times, nearly gasping for breath with each word, but she continued to speak with determination. “Never mention me in front of others again, forget about me entirely, do you understand?”

“And your marriage… your marriage, I’ve looked into it for you for many years… I’ve even spoken to your Emperor Father about it. He will make plans for you, don’t worry. Ulanara is a good, capable girl with a kind heart…”

Yinzhen, who had always been skilled at enduring, could no longer bear it this time. The pain that went deep into his bones made him tremble all over. He threw himself on the bedside, clutching Tong Jia’s frail hand tightly, and cried out in agony.

“I won’t…”

The young boy knelt by the bed, his voice hoarse and desperate, as if making a vow to himself.

“I won’t… I… will never forget Mother!”

“Silly child, Consort De is your birth mother, she will always protect you… Remember, you are not a prince of Jingren Palace, you are the eldest son of Yonghe Palace. Those who flatter and abase others will never dare to look down on you… cough, cough… listen to your mother…”

Yinzhen shook his head, crying uncontrollably.

Tong Jia lay in bed, unable to hold back her tears. She still wanted to say something, but gradually, she lost the strength to speak. She could only gently curl her fingers, holding his hand just as she had once held his hand to help him take his first steps as a child.

Tong Jia felt dizzy, and the world around her turned black. She could no longer see, but a smile appeared on her face.

Those were such good times. Her cousin had his arm around her shoulders, and they both smiled as they watched little Yinzhen stumble toward them. She had even made a bet with her cousin about which one of them Yinzhen would fall into the arms of.

In the end, she had won the bet, bending down to pick up the child who had thrown himself into her arms. She raised her eyebrows, smiling so joyfully and smugly.

At that time, she and her cousin had truly been like a family of three, how wonderful…

Her hand slowly grew cold.

At the shen hour on the 9th of July, Empress Tong Jia passed away.