SWNOVELXO Chapter 33 - Three Dreams
Performing an episiotomy—a procedure to cut the perineum and pull the baby out—posed immense risks to the mother.
The elderly midwife washed her hands, changed her clothes, and entered the delivery room. Shortly after, she returned and reported, “Your Highness, the baby has been stuck for too long and is turning purple. If we delay any longer, we risk losing both the mother and the child.”
Everyone gasped in shock, except for Side Concubine Li, who lowered her gaze. Pressing her lips together, she feigned panic and said, “What should we do now?”
The Crown Prince, Yinreng, immediately understood the gravity of the situation. He rose, hesitated briefly, and then heard Wang Gege’s anguished cries from the delivery room: “Your Highness, save the baby! Forget about me, just save my child!”
He closed his eyes briefly and gestured with his hand, signaling approval.
The elderly midwife gave a slight bow and returned to the delivery room with the midwives.
Side Concubine Li clasped her hands together, murmuring prayers with apparent sincerity. Having spent months copying scriptures, she could now recite them effortlessly.
Listening to her soft chanting, Yinreng felt a measure of relief.
The episiotomy proceeded, and shortly after, following a heart-wrenching scream, a faint, intermittent cry was heard from the newborn. The baby had inhaled amniotic fluid during the difficult labor, and the midwives had to hold him upside down, patting and rubbing him until he cried properly.
“It’s a prince! Congratulations, Your Highness!” the midwife exclaimed joyfully as she cleaned and wrapped the baby in a red silk swaddle embroidered with auspicious symbols. “He weighs seven pounds and eight ounces!”
The Crown Prince looked at the baby, whose face was red and slightly purple from the prolonged labor. His eyes were still closed, and he resembled a tiny monkey. Yet, seeing this little being who shared his bloodline stirred a unique affection in him. The more he looked, the more endearing the baby became. With a wave of his hand, he declared, “Reward everyone!”
The young prince was immediately handed over to a wet nurse for care, but Wang Gege’s condition took a turn for the worse. Although the imperial physicians stopped her bleeding with medication, the episiotomy wound was three to four inches long, leaving her unable to get out of bed or even relieve herself comfortably.
Within days, she developed a fever.
The imperial physicians diagnosed her with postpartum blood deficiency and puerperal fever caused by external infection.
When everyone heard it was puerperal fever, an ominous silence fell.
In a time without antibiotics, this illness was nearly a death sentence. The imperial physicians’ treatments became increasingly ineffective. They began by propping Wang Gege upright in bed and performing daily acupuncture to help expel postpartum lochia. They applied vinegar to her nose, rubbed her body with vinegar charcoal, and dressed her wounds with herbal pastes to stop bleeding and reduce swelling. Additionally, they prescribed warming tonics, but Wang Gege’s body was too weak to handle them. Before long, she could no longer even swallow the medicine.
Tang Gege, overwhelmed with anxiety, felt as if she could burn a house down. She was managing the household affairs while Wang Gege’s condition deteriorated. Even if she went above and beyond to avoid blame, no one would remember her efforts if things went wrong.
Cheng Wanyun visited Wang Gege twice. The room was well-ventilated, and all items entering or exiting were boiled for sanitation. The attendants had their hair covered, nails trimmed, and washed their hands frequently. It was as clean as could be expected in ancient times, and the physicians had done their best.
Wang Gege was in and out of consciousness. Both times Cheng Wanyun visited, Wang Gege was asleep, so she didn’t disturb her. Instead, she left some packages of ejiao (donkey-hide gelatin) and red ginseng before departing.
The Crown Prince, deeply affected, grew increasingly somber. After all, it was his decision to allow the episiotomy. When he heard that Wang Gege’s wound had festered and shown signs of necrosis, his mood darkened further.
After about half a month, Wang Gege passed away.
Since the newborn was the Crown Prince’s first son, Emperor Kangxi was personally involved in all arrangements. It was decided that the child could not be left without a mother to care for him. Among the women in the Yuqing Palace, Side Concubine Li, being the highest-ranking and longest-serving, was the natural choice.
After the prince’s full-month celebration, he was formally moved to Side Concubine Li’s quarters.
The Crown Prince remained withdrawn for days after Wang Gege’s passing. Later, he arranged for her to be posthumously granted the title of Secondary Consort and ensured her funeral was conducted with grandeur. Even her family members working in the Imperial Household Department were promoted.
Rumors spread that when Wang Gege’s father came to express his gratitude, he hinted at offering another of his daughters to the Crown Prince. This suggestion was met with a stern rebuke, and he was firmly sent away.
When Cheng Wanyun heard this, she felt an inexplicable heaviness in her heart. However, when Tang Gege visited to deliver the monthly allowances, she remarked that the arrangements for Wang Gege’s funeral and posthumous honors were already exceptional.
“You may not know this, Sister Cheng,” Lady Tang Gege said, “but both Wang Gege and I are of ‘baoyi’ (bondservant) origin. Back when we were still serving in the palace, we saw countless concubines and court women who died from illness. Most of them were simply wrapped in straw mats, loaded onto carts, and sent to their families at the palace gates.
“If they were slightly favored, they might receive a thin coffin and a few dozen taels of silver. But for those who had fallen out of favor…” Tang Gege gave a self-deprecating smile. “Their families might not even receive a single tael. All the money would end up in the eunuchs’ hands. Worse still, the families might have to bribe those eunuchs with silver just to retrieve the body for burial.”
“Amitabha,” Tang Gege said, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. “Thankfully, Sister Wang and I entered the Eastern Palace. The Crown Prince is benevolent, and at least, even in the worst case, we wouldn’t suffer indignities after death.”
Cheng Wanyun was melancholic for another two days.
Noticing her low spirits, the Crown Prince discreetly handed her a copy of ‘Xu Xiake’s Travel Notes’. That evening, she drew the bed curtains and flipped through it. On the title page, there was a note in the Crown Prince’s handwriting:
“How vast the world, how small our troubles?”
The world is so big, yet our worries are so insignificant.
Cheng Wanyun wiped away the tears streaming down her face and finally smiled.
Crying seemed to lift a weight off her chest.
Her mindset was different from people of this era. She thought, once someone like Wang Gege was gone, no amount of posthumous honor could matter. Wasn’t being alive the most important thing? Yet in the eyes of people from this time, giving birth to the Crown Prince’s son and being posthumously promoted to Secondary Concubine was the ultimate blessing—a testament to Wang Gege’s favor and love from the Crown Prince.
Wang Gege’s father even felt proud, believing his daughter had brought great honor to the family.
Cheng Wanyun gradually came to terms with it. Different beliefs are rooted in different societal contexts. Everyone has their own choices, and Wang Gege’s decision was simply the product of her time.
Perhaps when she shouted, “Save the child,” it wasn’t just a mother’s love conquering her own fears. She was also gambling with her fate. She bet on the possibility that her life wouldn’t end so abruptly, that the Crown Prince would ensure she wasn’t dismissed lightly, and that she could contribute one last time for her family’s sake.
Later, Cheng Wanyun considered another layer to it. Even if Wang Gege hadn’t spoken those words, the episiotomy would still have happened. Between a bondservant woman and the Crown Prince’s firstborn son, it was obvious how Emperor Kangxi would choose. Otherwise, why would he have sent an experienced imperial nanny to supervise?
Wang Gege understood this clearly, so she fought for herself and her family to gain as much as they could in the end.
Though Cheng Wanyun felt sorrowful for Wang Gege, she knew there was no one to blame. Wang Gege had naturally wanted to live, but at that point, she had no other choice.
And wasn’t it the same for Cheng Wanyun? Her options were limited too. All she could do was live well and cherish the present.
—
As the days passed, summer was fast approaching. Around this time, an incident occurred at court that implicated the Crown Prince.
Emperor Kangxi expressed his intention to personally lead a campaign against Galdan.
But the ministers were sharply divided on how to handle Galdan’s rebellion, and the court was abuzz with heated debates.
Some argued that the threat must be eliminated to avoid future troubles and firmly supported suppressing the rebellion to secure the borders. Others advocated negotiating with Galdan first, citing the vast distance, the challenges of crossing the desert terrain of the Northern Steppes, and the difficulty of waging war in such a barren region. They reasoned that even if Galdan occupied that desolate land, what harm could it bring?
For some reason, the Crown Prince, who usually maintained a reserved stance during political discussions and refrained from speaking without Emperor Kangxi’s approval, openly rebuked an elderly minister who opposed military action.
“May Father’s wisdom prevail,” he declared passionately. “If we follow Minister Shi’s suggestion and meekly tolerate Galdan’s unchecked expansion, how will the northwest ever be secure? His forces have already reached Ujumqin! That’s only nine hundred li from the capital!”
His outburst startled even Emperor Kangxi, who gave him a surprised glance.
After returning to his residence, the Crown Prince was still fuming.
Snatching the cat from Cheng Wanyun’s arms, he stroked it vigorously and angrily muttered, “That envoy from the Eo State, despite his advanced age, was willing to journey thousands of miles alone, risking his life for matters of state. In times of crisis, he never retreated. That’s what a true pillar of the nation looks like! And then look at ‘our’ so-called pillars of the state—spouting such absurd nonsense!”
Cheng Wanyun quietly brought over two bowls of double-skin milk and four egg tarts. The double-skin milk was topped with honey beans and mango, served chilled. The Crown Prince instinctively picked one up and started eating. By the time he finished and thought about complaining again, the anger in his belly had mysteriously vanished.
“Mango again?” Yinreng couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw the fruit, his irritation melting away.
Every few months, Emperor Kangxi would gift the Crown Prince a few baskets of mangoes. Being a rare delicacy in the north and quick to spoil, they had to be consumed quickly. Cheng Wanyun, who loved mangoes, smiled sheepishly. “I often ask the kitchen for more mangoes…”
A few months ago, the governor of Fujian and Zhejiang had sent three memorials along with baskets of mangoes and other tropical fruits. Kangxi tasted a few but didn’t care for the sticky texture of mangoes. He distributed them to the Empress Dowager, the Crown Prince, and a few other princes, and then sent a direct order requesting that no more mangoes be sent.
The governor hadn’t meant to test Kangxi’s patience. The distance between the capital and Jianzhou was vast, and memorials often got lost en route. Sometimes, the governor wouldn’t receive Kangxi’s replies, or Kangxi wouldn’t receive his. As a result, he had developed the habit of submitting three copies of every memorial, regardless of importance.
Unfortunately, this time the relay stations performed flawlessly, and all three submissions reached Kangxi, resulting in an unintended mix-up.
Last year, Kangxi had already ordered the governor to stop sending mangoes. But as summer approached and mango season came around again, the governor, perhaps unsure of what else to send, resumed gifting mangoes to the capital. Kangxi, infuriated, drafted half a memorial to reprimand him, only to receive yet another memorial from the governor, asking: “Your Majesty, would you like some ‘pomie’? It’s a specialty from Taiwan!”
Cheng Wanyun, however, found the somewhat naive governor endearing. In her view, people in the capital were often conservative and resistant to new things. The Fujian-Zhejiang governor, on the other hand, seemed eager to introduce new discoveries to Kangxi. Without him, many common foods of later eras might not have been seen at all during this time.
Take “pomie,” for example. Kangxi casually gifted a couple of them to the Crown Prince, who in turn passed them to Cheng Wanyun, saying, “The scent is perfect for freshening up a room, and they look quite decorative as well.”
When Cheng Wanyun saw them, her eyes widened. “Aren’t these pineapples?”
It seemed no one, not even the emperor, knew how to eat them yet. They were merely being used as fragrant ornaments!
But she didn’t want to overstep. After using the pineapples to freshen the room for a few days, she waited until they were fully ripe before suggesting they cut one open. Pretending to be curious, she instructed Qingxing and Bitao to try peeling the skin, removing the eyes, and soaking the fruit in salt water.
At this time, pineapples were small, like the mini pineapples seen later. The flesh was quite firm but fortunately not overly sour.
The taste turned out to be sweet and fragrant, especially when mixed with mango, guava, and apple, along with licorice and preserved plum. It was like a perfect summer fruit salad! She realized that the fruit salads she’d eaten before were missing this pineapple flavor.
Cheng Wanyun couldn’t help but think, ‘Oh my, if I had married the Governor of Fujian and Zhejiang, wouldn’t life have been wonderful? Never mind how the man himself might be, but at least the outside world would be vast and open. I might even get a chance to board a ship and visit Taiwan—a place I never got to see in my previous life.’
Of course, given her status as the daughter of a low-ranking county magistrate, marrying the Governor of Fujian and Zhejiang was a pipe dream. If she hadn’t been selected for the imperial draft, as her father Master Cheng said, her options would likely have been marrying a scholar who hadn’t yet passed the imperial examination or the son of another magistrate.
That’s why so many people viewed sending their daughters to participate in the imperial draft as a golden opportunity for social mobility and treated it as a family’s top priority.
Fathers like Master Cheng, who truly doted on their daughters, were rare.
‘What’s the point of thinking about this now?’ Cheng Wanyun laughed at herself, realizing how a mere pineapple had led her into a spiral of daydreaming.
But perhaps karma struck. That evening, the kitchen prepared eel with tofu. The moment she smelled it, she felt nauseous and vomited. Her appetite disappeared entirely, and she lay on the couch, rubbing her stomach, feeling listless.
When the Crown Prince heard she was unwell, he rushed over after his studies.
Yinreng entered her room and immediately sat by the bed, checking her complexion and feeling her forehead.
Seeing him made Cheng Wanyun feel guilty.
That very afternoon, she had been fantasizing about what life might be like if she’d married someone else, and now the man in question was sitting right before her, deeply concerned.
“You don’t have a fever, and it doesn’t seem like you’ve caught a cold. Besides, how could you catch a cold? Whenever the weather gets slightly chilly, you’re the first to bundle up in thick pants and jackets. You don’t give anyone else a chance to worry about you… So why would you suddenly throw up?” Yinreng frowned, but then a thought lit up his eyes. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “A Wan, when was your last cycle?”
She realized her period hadn’t come this month! His question made her panic. “…It… it shouldn’t be, right?”
Deep down, she wasn’t ready to be pregnant so soon. She felt she was too young to have a child, though people of this time viewed having children as a great blessing.
Yinreng thought carefully for a moment and then calmly said, “It’s already late today, so let’s not call the imperial physician just yet.”
If she was pregnant, it would still be very early. Even if the physician could detect it, making a big deal out of it so soon wouldn’t be good for A Wan.
“Rest for now and don’t rush to take any medicine,” Yinreng said, gently stroking her pale face. Knowing she was still young and inexperienced, he spoke softly to comfort her. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. In a couple of days, the physician will come to check on the little prince’s health. We can have him quietly check your pulse at the same time without drawing attention.”
Cheng Wanyun could only nod in agreement.
That evening, the Crown Prince didn’t leave and stayed in her chambers to draft memorials for the Emperor. After writing, he sighed to her, “Father intends to let my elder brother lead the troops and accompany him on the campaign against Galdan.”
Cheng Wanyun feigned surprise but thought to herself, ‘This isn’t surprising at all. Historically, your elder brother joined your father on two of the three campaigns against Galdan!’
“I also want to accompany Father,” the Crown Prince said as he tucked the memorial away. He then returned to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and speaking softly, “That’s why I’m torn—I both hope you are with child and hope you aren’t…”
Cheng Wanyun remained silent, leaning obediently against his shoulder. The Crown Prince, who usually never spoke to her about political matters, had brought this up because he was conflicted. He feared leaving her alone in the Yuqing Palace, worried that there might be things left unattended in his absence.
“There is no need for Second Master to halt his ambitions for the sake of someone as insignificant as me,” Cheng Wanyun said, raising her hand to gently caress the Crown Prince’s face. Her eyes were bright as she spoke, and though she knew the Crown Prince’s fate, she still wished he would try to carve out a different path for himself. “I will take care of myself. You can confidently pursue what you wish to do.”
The Crown Prince, still in the midst of growing into his full stature, had a slightly leaner face now, but his features had grown even more defined and strikingly handsome.
Cheng Wanyun couldn’t resist touching his face a couple more times.
‘So smooth,’ she thought. His skin was flawless, a trait she had long envied in her previous life but could never achieve.
Her hand was suddenly grabbed and held tightly. Feeling slightly guilty, she looked up to meet the Crown Prince’s amused gaze.
“If you really are with child, you’ll have to change this habit of yours!” he teased.
‘What habit?’ Cheng Wanyun opened her mouth to retort.
“Side Concubine Li pours her heart into the children, Tang Gege is obsessed with running the household, but you—” the Crown Prince shook his head dramatically, feigning dismay. “You only focus on this bit of skin and flesh on me!”
Cheng Wanyun was speechless.
Furious, she picked up a soft embroidered pillow and threw it at him!
The Crown Prince dodged to the side, already laughing so hard he collapsed onto the bed.
After a bout of playful chaos, the Crown Prince, using his height and strength, pinned her beneath him. He kissed her lightly before pulling her into his arms. “Alright, that’s enough. Rest now, and don’t let yourself get too worked up—it might disturb the baby.”
“We don’t even know that yet,” Cheng Wanyun muttered inwardly, annoyed. ‘Stop jinxing it as if it’s already true!’
Later that night, Cheng Wanyun fell asleep only to find herself dreaming of Wang Gege.
Surrounded by chaotic shadows and noise, Wang Gege lay alone in a blood-scented delivery room, her expression distant and desolate.
Cheng Wanyun awoke with a start, sitting up in terror and gasping for breath. It took several moments before she noticed the Crown Prince beside her, who seemed trapped in his own nightmare. His brow was furrowed, and his face was drenched in cold sweat.
She gently nudged the Crown Prince’s shoulder. “Second Master… Second…”
The Crown Prince’s eyes shot open abruptly. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, as if unsure of where he was. His gaze roamed aimlessly in the darkness before slowly finding focus. Yet, when his eyes fixed on her, the look in them felt foreign and distant.
The Crown Prince’s gaze had always been clear and gentle, his facial features soft. His eyes, in particular, exuded warmth, sometimes even a touch of youthful innocence—the kind of look only someone untouched by life’s deepest sorrows could have. But now, his eyes carried a sharpness, like the edge of a blade.
It was the look of a wounded tiger lying in wait in the depths of a forest or a prisoner trapped in chains, desperate and fierce.
After a long silence, the wariness in his gaze faded, replaced by his usual expression.
“It’s nothing, just… a nightmare.” His voice was hoarse and dry, his tone carrying a trace of raspiness. “Go back to sleep. I… just remembered something that needs doing. I’ll head out for now. He Baozhong—”
He Baozhong, who had been sleeping in the outer room, shot up at once and rushed in. “Your Highness, I’m here.”
“Return to the Chunben Hall,” the Crown Prince said, hastily grabbing his robes and walking out.
He Baozhong was stunned. The Crown Prince had never left Cheng Gege’s quarters halfway through the night before. Casting a quick glance at the figure of the woman sitting up in bed behind the curtains, he dared not linger and hurried after the Crown Prince.
Cheng Wanyun didn’t try to stop him. She was unnerved herself. The expression the Crown Prince had when he woke was truly frightening.
It was still the dead of night, and the surroundings were quiet and deserted.
The Crown Prince strode quickly through the palace corridors. The cool summer night breeze chilled his body, gradually calming the boiling blood in his veins. It was only when his body began to cool that he noticed, to his mild embarrassment, that he had put his shoes on the wrong feet.
Once in his study, he dismissed He Baozhong, forbidding even the lighting of a lamp. He sat alone in the darkness.
This was the third time.
The first dream had been about the negotiations at Nerchinsk, and he had managed to prevent the disastrous outcome he had foreseen.
The second time, it had been about his fourth brother, and he had carefully brought him back into the fold.
But this time…
This time, he had dreamed of himself. Of his royal father.
Unlike the previous two dreams, this one was fragmented and unclear. The scenes shifted constantly, leaving him disoriented. But the deepening despair and pain in the dream were etched into his very bones.
The Crown Prince sat motionless in the dark for a long time. Outside, the first glimmer of dawn began to appear, gradually dispelling the oppressive darkness.
He closed his eyes, but the strange scenes of the dream refused to fade.
In the dream, it was the seventh month of the 29th year of Kangxi’s reign. Despite fierce opposition, Kangxi had ultimately decided to lead a personal campaign against Galdan.
The Crown Prince himself supported this decision. While many courtiers only saw Galdan’s rapid expansion as a threat, few understood the full extent of his power. Galdan now controlled the northern and western Mongolian tribes, Southern Xinjiang, and Tibet. Having recently subdued the Khalkha tribes, his Dzungar Khanate was nearly equivalent in size to the Qing Empire.
That was one reason. The second was Galdan’s other identity—he was recognized as the Fourth Living Buddha.
The Dzungar tribe was one of the four Oirat Mongol tribes, historically known as the “Oirat” under the Ming Dynasty. It was the same tribe that had once captured the Ming Emperor Zhu Qizhen. Galdan was a direct descendant of that lineage.
The Third Incarnation of the Wensapa Living Buddha was a close friend of Galdan’s father, Batur. While spreading Buddhism among the Dzungar tribes, the Third Wensapa proclaimed before his death, “The child you will have in the future will be my reincarnation.” Sure enough, not long after, Batur’s wife, Da Khüchü, gave birth to Galdan.
While still an infant, Galdan was ceremoniously recognized as the Fourth Incarnation of the Wensapa Living Buddha.
Galdan spent his early years in Tibet studying Buddhist teachings. However, when his elder brother, Sengge, was assassinated and the Dzungar tribe faced the threat of being divided by other factions, Galdan decisively renounced monastic life. With just over twenty loyal guards, he returned to the Dzungar tribe to reclaim leadership.
This “former Living Buddha,” who had once preached Buddhism for over twenty years and authored several Buddhist scriptures, held an almost mystical allure and influence, especially over the deeply religious populations of Tibet and the Buddhist-believing Manchu Eight Banners.
This was one of the primary reasons Kangxi felt compelled to personally lead the campaign against Galdan. As the emperor, who ruled as the “Son of Heaven” and was seen as heaven’s representative on earth, only he could counter the sway that this so-called “Living Buddha” held over the people and soldiers.
Otherwise, if Galdan were to stand on the battlefield and shout, “Lay down your weapons and attain enlightenment,” soldiers might instinctively drop their weapons, kneel, and worship him. In such a scenario, how could any battle be fought?
Kangxi had also received Galdan’s rebellious and audacious proclamation: “Your Majesty rules the south, and I command the north!” He even intended to create a boundary along the Great Wall to govern separately from Kangxi.
This was an immense insult to Kangxi. He found it hard to contain his rage, and it would be difficult to calm his anger without personally executing Galdan.
The dream took place in early July as well. Kangxi issued an imperial order to personally lead the campaign. To allow the young prince to act as regent, he took along three princely uncles and his spirited eldest son. He ordered Prince Fuquan to lead the left wing as the Grand General of the Eastern Expedition, with the eldest prince Yinzhi acting as his deputy, and Prince Changning to lead the right wing as the Grand General of the Northern Expedition. Prince Jieshu was to lead the troops and provide support at the rear.
After the sacrifices, the bells and drums at the Meridian Gate rang out, and the sound of cannon fire thundered. In the dream, Yinreng was leading the royal ministers and princes to bid farewell to the imperial army as they departed the capital.
However, the scene suddenly shifted to a desolate, remote mountain range, where a few inconspicuous tents were clustered together. Hundreds of personal guards, armed with sabers and firearms, stood on alert.
Inside the largest tent, Kangxi lay on the bed, his face flushed with fever, coughing uncontrollably. It turned out that when they reached the Gulufoerjian Gahunga Mountain, Kangxi became dizzy and unable to rise, forcing him to lie down ill. He ordered the army to continue marching under the imperial dragon banner, while also sending someone back to the capital to urgently summon the crown prince and the third prince.
Yinreng and Yinzhong rushed to bring the physicians and medicinal supplies, but during the journey, the horse stepped into a trap, throwing Yinreng heavily to the ground!
Despite the excruciating pain, Yinreng instructed Yinzhong to take the doctors ahead, quickly bandaged himself, swapped horses with a guard, and endured the pain to follow behind.
When Yinzhong arrived first, Kangxi asked, “Where is the crown prince?”
Yinzhong, exhausted from several days of travel, had not slept. But when he noticed that Kangxi’s attention was entirely on his second brother, he quickly thought of a reason not to explain the delay and simply smiled faintly, saying, “Second brother is behind, he will arrive shortly.”
When Yinreng finally arrived, his injured leg had swollen significantly, but he still changed out of his bloodstained clothes, unwilling to cause his ill father further worry. He managed to support himself and arrived at the tent to pay his respects.
As soon as he entered, Kangxi cast him a cold glance. The ill were often sensitive, and Kangxi noticed that the crown prince had not only delayed but had also taken the time to bathe, appearing fresh and neat. Feeling displeased, he said curtly, “Go back, Crown Prince.”
In the dream, Yinreng stood frozen in place, unable to explain, before being escorted out by the royal guards.
Suddenly, the scene in the dream turned chaotic, and when his mind cleared, he saw a familiar figure kneeling in the large tent, numb and despondent. His father, the emperor, appeared much older, standing up in agitation. With trembling fingers, he angrily shouted, “You have violated the virtues of your ancestors, you have disobeyed my commands. I have been tolerant for twenty years! How hateful that you have no affection for your ruler or your father! You are ungrateful and unfilial!”
The emperor’s words rang in his ears, and though he knew it was just a dream, Yinreng still felt as though his chest had been struck by a heavy blow, the pain reaching deep into his heart. He staggered forward, wanting to see the face of the person kneeling in the hall, but he seemed to be swept away by a flood, his body uncontrollably falling in front of a desolate palace entrance, surrounded by wild grass. The Imperial Guard stood firm, and a eunuch who accidentally got too close was immediately knocked to the ground, drawn sword in hand, sternly questioning, “Who goes there without cause?! Speak, why are you approaching the former crown prince’s custody?”
Yinreng’s mind was shaken!