20 Time-Travel to the Qing Dynasty (20)

Petal baths are quite effective; after soaking, the body remains fragrant.

After changing into her nightgown, she lay on the small couch while the chamber maid held a tiny incense burner to dry her hair. The burner was no larger than a palm, warm to the touch, exuding a rich fragrance through its vents. The heat quickly dried her hair, and the scent lingered in her strands for a long time.

Wen Yao leaned against the couch, feeling drowsy as the elderly maid gently stroked her hair.

Beside her, Dong Rui watched the chamber maid’s technique intently, eager to learn the skill so she could request the Imperial Household Department to provide a hair-drying stove for Chengqian Palace tomorrow, allowing her to tend to her mistress’s hair in the future.

The chamber maid was generous, allowing Dong Rui to observe closely.

Most senior palace maids attending favored consorts came from the upper three banners’ bondservant class; mastering such simple skills was common and would only be used to serve their mistress.

Once her hair was dried and scented with balm, and her entire being fragrant, Wen Yao finally moved on to the last step.

Exiting the bathhouse and circling around the screen, Wen Yao saw Xuan Ye sitting anxiously by the kang.

He wore a bright yellow night robe, his braid still slightly damp, evidently just finished bathing as well. Since Chengqian Palace shared its front and rear halls, with the rear used solely for daily living, Xuan Ye had insisted on some upgrades during renovations; two bathhouses had been built, allowing simultaneous use.

“Onee-san,” he greeted upon hearing footsteps, suddenly rising and turning to look at her. His eyes sparkled, flickering anxiously before settling on Wen Yao’s face.

“Your Majesty,” Wen Yao bowed with folded knees.

Before she could fully stand, his hand grasped hers.

Xuan Ye led her into the gauze canopy and sat her at the bed’s edge, his gaze unwilling to leave her face. Since last night’s lecture from the chamber maid, his mind had been overwhelmed with impure thoughts, nearly drowning out the contents of the memorial he held.

According to the chamber maid’s instructions, he was to select a palace maid from the anteroom to personally instruct him. Yet privately, he was unwilling to entrust his first time to a mere palace maid.

Though inexperienced, he was exceedingly particular!

Ultimately, he broke protocol and directly revealed Chengqian Palace’s placard.

“Have you remembered everything the maids taught you?” Xuan Ye’s cheeks flushed red, his eyes shimmering with moisture.

The emperor refused to accept guidance from palace maids, so naturally, the first instruction must come from a consort. Hence, the chamber maid had given Wen Yao an emergency crash course during their bath.

Recalling the chamber maid’s fierce words, Wen Yao coughed lightly, averted her gaze, and nodded softly.

Xuan Ye’s grip suddenly tightened.

Her heart pounded like a drum.

He withdrew his hand cautiously and traced her arm gently. Not long ago, he had been tickling his cousin, but now, merely holding her arm set his blood ablaze—an inexplicable change even to himself.

At this moment, his usually clear mind felt like mush.

“Then let us proceed.”

Swallowing hard, Xuan Ye’s eyes remained fixed unwaveringly on Wen Yao.

“All right…” Wen Yao echoed him, her voice trembling faintly.

Her voice, soft as a whisper, struck Xuan Ye like thunder. He swept aside the canopy curtain in one motion and, grasping her arm firmly, pulled her completely inside.

---

Thrown onto the bed, Wen Yao’s heart screamed silently, *What a calamity!*, but her hands scrambled to steady Xuan Ye’s wrist. “Your Majesty, my body is weak—please have mercy.”

Such a delicate tone, and that humble “I”—

Xuan Ye’s neck and ears flushed crimson, his blood boiling within, his throat dry. “I, I won’t…”

“I shall serve you,” Wen Yao declared, rolling over to take command.

---

After a night of tender affection, the little emperor slept in late.

Liang Jiugong stood quietly outside the canopy, softly calling, “Your Majesty, it is time to rise.”

No response came from within.

He gritted his teeth and called twice more, only to be struck by a soft pillow hurled from inside. Finally, voices exchanged softly, and the curtain was drawn back. The emperor emerged.

Sitting at the bed’s edge, he closed the canopy behind him and, as usual, left directly for the adjacent chamber.

“Your lady suffers from poor health; let her rest a while longer,” he instructed with the same excuse as always.

Liang Jiugong pondered: Lady Tong had been in the palace for some time, and this was not the emperor’s first overnight stay. Yet she had never risen to assist the emperor in dressing. He knew the emperor’s indulgence was out of pity, so he no longer sought reasons each time.

Liang, the head eunuch, was skilled and vigilant!

“Your Majesty, Lady Tong must visit the Grand Empress Dowager and Empress Dowager to pay respects later,” he reminded softly.

Since entering the palace, these consorts had only received formal rites at Cining and Shoukang Palaces but had not been summoned to kowtow. After Lady Tong attended to the emperor last night, a message from Cining Palace requested her to pay respects there today.

“Chengqian Palace is far from Cining Palace. Do not let her walk to Kunning Palace on a whim today. You must prepare a carriage and ensure she rides.”

Though the timing of the palace visits overlapped with his court sessions, he knew Wen Yao’s bad habit—she often insisted on walking due to the short distance.

The carriage was not merely transportation but a symbol of status; others longed to ride it, yet she rarely used it. Consequently, the eunuchs carrying it were well-fed and robust.

Liang swiftly helped the emperor don his court beads, then knelt and responded, “Yes.”

Xuan Ye took the imperial crown from the tray, glanced toward the silent canopy, then donned the crown and stepped out.

Rising late, even the dragon robe was brought to Chengqian Palace to be worn—it would not do to be so lax in the future!

The emperor proceeded to court, and before entering, reminded Liu Jinzhong, “Select some of the finest from the Southern Warehouse to send to Chengqian Palace.”

“Yes,” Liu Jinzhong knelt and responded immediately.

The emperor then entered the main hall of Qianqing Palace with Liang Jiugong. Over twenty senior ministers above the fourth rank stood ready for court.

This marked the significance of the boundary between fourth and fifth-ranked officials.

Fourth-rank officials had the privilege of attending smaller court sessions before the emperor, while fifth-rank officials could only stand at a distance during grand audiences, enduring the summer sun and winter winds on their backs—a decidedly less favorable position.

---

Wen Yao lingered an additional hour in bed before rising.

Not due to fatigue—what labor could a child endure? It was merely an act.

If she were to judge last night’s affair, it was… utterly dull.

The little emperor was impatient; his undeveloped frame was as frail as bones, truly uninteresting. The old ghost was dissatisfied but helpless; for the emperor’s sake, she had to play along, especially with her frail persona to maintain.

So she lay still an extra hour, then swayed and staggered theatrically as she got up, even pretending to support her waist.

Dong Rui and Chun Ling looked on with concern, while Aunt Songqin had a face full of exasperation. Though she never left the palace to marry, she had once served Lady Tong during the night and understood the nuances.

Under her gaze, Wen Yao awkwardly straightened.

What a complicated affair.

“Your lady is frail; she should act delicate and fragile to reassure the Kunning Palace lady,” Aunt Songqin sighed. All morning, little eunuchs came and went at Yongxiang Gate, their eyes fixed on Chengqian Palace.

She did not believe this mischief came from Yanxi or Zhongcui Palaces; with those two out of the way, only Kunning Palace remained.

“This scheming is petty. For half a year, I have made morning and evening reports, nearly bleeding from the mouth to prove my weakness, yet she still remains so guarded,” Wen Yao frowned in annoyance, convinced the young empress was overly suspicious.

“Not necessarily her order. She employs all Hesheri clan people. Who truly commands these people, Hesheri or herself? Who can tell?” Aunt Songqin had never been to Kunning Palace but had come to understand the lady over these six months—she seemed unwise, but her subordinates were indeed arrogant.

Wen Yao thought of later Suoetu and the crown prince.

“They all meddle beyond their station,” she muttered.

Aunt Songqin looked puzzled, unsure whom she meant.

Wen Yao snorted. Honestly, the crown prince’s passivity in later years might stem from Suoetu’s “paranoia of persecution.” Anyone approaching the crown prince was seen as harmful; only the prince’s uncle could vet them properly.

“Help me with my makeup, Dong Rui. Today, I want my face powdered thicker and whiter.”

The facade must continue to avoid Kunning Palace’s constant watchfulness—annoying but harmless.

At this moment, Wen Yao no longer felt Chengqian Palace was safe.

Being too close invited surveillance, and with her fiery temper, she feared one day angering Kunning Palace enough to turn from a ghost to a vengeful spirit. Though she had taken human form, the ghostly aura remained.

Last night, sharing the chamber with the little emperor, the crow seemed to stir in her soul. She blurred its presence with her ghostly energy until it fell asleep again, breathing easier.

Wen Yao did not understand fate or fortune.

Yet, bearing the word “fortune,” she, an old ghost, wished to avoid karmic entanglements. She had concealed her lack of life and fortune, hoping the crow would awaken unaware.

If the crow stayed obedient, she would keep it alive for a few more lifetimes. If not, the old ghost was no pushover—she would devour it with ghostly energy and rebuild her soul after death.

This body belonged to the emperor’s woman; after death, she would enter the imperial tomb and receive royal offerings.

Such a coffin would surely be far more comfortable than the young master’s.