Concubine of the Eastern Palace (Qing Dynasty Time Travel)

Yinreng sat motionless through the early dawn until daylight fully broke.

It was nearly time for class when He Baozhong called from outside several times. Like a puppet pulled by strings, Yinreng finally pushed open the door.

“Your Highness…” He Baozhong approached with a respectful smile, but before he could discern the prince’s expression in the dim light, a tall shadow suddenly loomed over him and collapsed into his arms.

“Ow! Oh dear!”

He Baozhong staggered backward, struggling until his back hit a red column in front of the hall, finally steadying himself. The prince leaned heavily against his shoulder, his body scorching hot even through his clothes, though his palms were cold and sweaty, with icy fingertips.

“Quick—” He Baozhong’s panicked cry was cut short by Yinreng raising a hand to cover his mouth.

“You fool! Shouting like that—do you care nothing for Cheng Gege’s reputation?” Yinreng’s bloodshot eyes glared as he firmly stifled the man’s words. “I just need to sit for a while. Don’t make this a scene.”

Summoning the imperial physician would surely raise the emperor’s suspicion. How would A Wan handle the fallout?

Eventually, Yinreng muddled through his studies despite his worsening state, his pale complexion drawing concerned glances from his brothers.

“Second Brother?” Yinzhen hesitantly approached.

Yinreng forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well last night and have a slight headache. Nothing serious.”

Seeing Yinzhen fussing over the prince, Yinzhong quickly stepped forward, pulling a delicately crafted glass snuff bottle from his sleeve. “I brought a snuff bottle—would you like to try it to clear your head, Second Brother?”

Yinreng declined with a silent stare that made Yinzhong’s back tingle uncomfortably. Before Yinzhong could respond, Yinreng turned away impassively. “No need.”

After class, Yinreng returned to the Chunben Hall and immediately collapsed onto his bed.

He Baozhong had been on edge the entire day, so anxious that blisters had formed at the corners of his mouth. However, no matter how worried he was, the Prince refused to summon an imperial physician. Moreover, Yinreng had sternly warned him that if he dared to leak a single word, his services would no longer be needed.

Helpless, He Baozhong could only carefully crouch by the prince’s bedside, forcing a smile as he asked, “Would you like to have some food?”

“If you speak one more word, I’ll throw you out,” Yinreng responded without opening his eyes.

He Baozhong immediately clamped his mouth shut.

He dared not leave the prince alone in the room for fear that something might happen again—he couldn’t afford to pay with his life. As Yinreng’s breathing gradually steadied, He Baozhong sighed in relief and discreetly checked his forehead. It seemed the fever had subsided.

Yinreng’s mind remained conscious but felt detached, as if separated from reality. He no longer felt like he was in the Yuqing Palace but instead transported back to his childhood in the Qianqing palace.

In a side chamber of the palace, memorials and official documents were piled high on every surface, forming mountains upon mountains. His younger self sat amidst the paper peaks, stacking the memorials like building blocks—sometimes constructing post roads, other times assembling towering structures.

Kangxi sat on the heated brick bed, engrossed in reviewing memorials. Every now and then, Yinreng would tug at his sleeve or pull on his robe. “Father Emperor, look! I built a big house!”

Kangxi never got angry. He would laugh heartily, lift Yinreng onto his lap, and point to the characters on the memorials, teaching him how to read.

This father—this father who doted on him—how could he later come to hate him so deeply? How could he abolish him as the crown prince?

“Unrighteous and unfilial, devoid of any affection for the emperor and father.”

If it were any other accusation, perhaps he could endure it. But how could it be claimed that he was unfilial to his father? How could such a belief take root? What could have happened to make Kangxi utterly convinced of it? How could their once-close relationship end in bitter estrangement?

Yinreng opened his eyes, staring blankly at the endless swastika patterns on the bed canopy above. He tried to convince himself it was just a dream. But no matter how he tried, he couldn’t deceive himself.

Because he had already come to understand: these dreams always foreshadowed events that were certain to happen.

What he saw in the dream etched itself in his mind, impossible to forget.

As the day wore on, his initial shock and dread gave way to resentment and determination.

If he simply submitted to fate, walking step by step toward ruin, what right did he have to call himself a descendant of the Aisin Gioro clan?

There had to be a way.

Yinreng furrowed his brow, forcing himself to recall every detail from the dream.

Wait…

In the dream, when Father Emperor angrily condemned him as unrighteous and unfilial, why did he say, “I have tolerated you for over twenty years”?

Over twenty years? Could that event happen two decades from now? Was the root of their future conflict tied to this year’s military campaign? Father Emperor would fall ill during the expedition, and because Yinreng was delayed after falling from his horse, his younger brother distorted the truth, sowing resentment that Kangxi harbored for over twenty years?

But why had no one present—neither the imperial guards, the attendants, nor the physicians—defended him? Had they all been silenced by poison? If Father Emperor had just asked a single additional question, he would have understood the reason for the delay. Why would such fury be necessary?

There had to be another reason hidden within.

After sorting through his thoughts, Yinreng finally felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest, allowing him to breathe freely again.

“If I ever find out who they are…” he vowed silently, “I’ll drag those conniving scoundrels who deliberately drove a wedge between Father Emperor and me to the execution grounds at the Meridian Gate!”

Seeking a release for his frustrations, he sparred vigorously with practice dummies near the study until he broke out in a sweat, his mind clearer than before. Tossing his damp handkerchief to He Baozhong, he returned to his room to change clothes.

While attendants fussed around him, adjusting his robes and belts, a sudden thought struck him: each time he had those prophetic dreams, it had always been in the back chamber.

That realization lingered when he visited Cheng Wanyun later that evening. He couldn’t resist cupping her face in his hands, scrutinizing her closely for a long time.

Her cheeks and lips puffed up from his grip, and she blinked her wide eyes in confusion, tilting her head slightly. “Your Highness?”

She was completely clueless.

Wanyun looked so innocently foolish. It seemed unlikely she had some mystical connection. Could it be the back chamber itself had some divine influence? He’d heard that the palace had once been a Ming dynasty ancestral hall. But surely the spirits of a fallen dynasty wouldn’t be blessing a Qing prince like him.

If anything, they should be trying to strangle him in his sleep.

So was it truly something about Wanyun? Yinreng found it hard to believe. He resolved to test the theory further when he got the chance.

Releasing her face, he gently pinched her cheeks and asked softly, “Why do you smell so sweet? What were you up to today?”

“I made lotus seed candy for you to help calm your mind and improve sleep,” Wanyun replied. She quickly gestured for Qingxing to bring over a small dish of glistening, translucent lotus seeds. The bitter cores had been meticulously removed, and the seeds were cooked to perfection—soft yet still holding their shape, each delicately coated in a thin, even layer of syrup.

She carefully presented the dish to him, but Yinreng’s attention was drawn to her reddened fingers.

Noticing his gaze, Wanyun instinctively withdrew her hands, tucking her fingers beneath the dish. “It’s nothing,” she said softly. “I just burned them a bit on the edge of the pot while making the syrup. I soaked them in cold water—it’s not painful anymore.”

Taking the dish, Yinreng didn’t eat the candy right away but instead pulled her into his arms with a sigh. “Why didn’t you let someone else handle it? Must you do such menial tasks yourself?”

“No one else can make it right. Candy-making requires skill,” Wanyun replied, nuzzling into his embrace like a little pup. “Besides, I wanted to personally make amends to you. Did I upset you yesterday?”

Yinreng’s heart softened further as he stroked her back. “Nonsense. I truly had urgent matters last night—it had nothing to do with you. If anything, I made you worry unnecessarily. That was my fault.”

Only then did Wanyun relax with a relieved breath.

She had spent the entire day worrying that waking the Crown Prince abruptly last night might have angered him.

Though Yinreng spoke vaguely and avoided giving the full reason, she could clearly sense he was no longer upset. The familiar, gentle prince she knew had returned.

Lowering his gaze, Yinreng rubbed her slender fingers, the burn marks painfully evident. He instructed He Baozhong to bring burn ointment and personally applied it for her. His touch was gentle, but Wanyun still flinched slightly from the sting.

“Blisters have already formed, yet you still say it’s nothing,” Yinreng said, frowning slightly as he blew softly on her fingers. “You’re usually so skilled in the kitchen—how did this happen?”

Wanyun was too embarrassed to admit that she had been distracted, thinking about whether hawthorn berries were still in season while preparing syrup. Since the sugar turned out so beautifully, she mused that it would be a shame not to make candied hawthorns. Lost in thought, she had accidentally burned herself.

She shyly lowered her head and mumbled, “I was thinking about Your Highness, and I got careless.”

Yinreng felt a mix of warmth and bashfulness.

In front of a room full of servants, she had openly admitted that thinking about him caused her to burn her hand. He couldn’t help but notice He Baozhong pretending to be oblivious, glancing around aimlessly, while her maidservants practically buried their heads in their chests to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze.

The next day, the imperial physician came to check the health of the young prince.

The child was approaching his hundredth day and appeared healthy. Side Concubine Li had taken meticulous care of him. Yinreng went to visit and saw the little boy with chubby white limbs resembling lotus roots. His wrists and ankles were adorned with silver bells symbolizing peace and good fortune. Wearing a red bellyband, the child huffed and puffed on the bed, trying to crawl but only managing to flail his limbs without moving. When he saw Yinreng, he grinned widely, drooling as he giggled.

However, perhaps due to prolonged compression in the womb, one of his shoulders was slightly lower than the other, and his elbow bent inward at an unusual angle. The physicians deliberated for some time and concluded that regular acupuncture sessions and daily hour-long arm bracing might gradually correct it over a year or two.

Everyone in the room was amused by the boy’s antics. Yinreng picked him up, and the little one gazed at him with wide eyes. Yinreng smiled and nodded, “He’s gained weight! Such a fortunate and prosperous-looking child.”

Side Concubine Li wiped the child’s mouth with a handkerchief and added playfully, “He has quite an appetite—he finishes milk from both wet nurses! Even at night, he needs feeding three or four times; otherwise, his cries could lift the roof. But today, he’s well-behaved—perhaps because his father is here.”

“You’ve been attentive,” Yinreng acknowledged with a serious gaze and reminded her, “Remember to arrange a ritual for Wang Gege’s hundred-day memorial.”

After Wang Gege’s passing, all her medical records and dietary logs were sealed. Ling Mama had mentioned that during her pregnancy, Wang Gege consumed various herbal soups and teas made with hawthorn, dried tangerine peel, and dendrobium to alleviate early nausea and digestive issues. Later, due to her improved appetite, she continued to consume these to prevent bloating.

Some prescriptions came from the imperial physicians, others from Side Concubine Li, and some were personally requested by Wang Gege from the kitchen. If not for these practices, perhaps the oversized fetus would not have caused such a difficult labor.

Yinreng observed Side Concubine Li as she returned to cradle the child. The young prince tugged at the pearl strands in her hair. Despite her disheveled hair and the pain, she gently coaxed him, “Be careful, sweet boy, let go now—don’t hurt your hand.”

Despite her outward devotion, Yinreng suspected Side Concubine Li was not entirely innocent regarding Wang Gege’s labor complications. She had been cunning, leaving no evidence behind. Side Concubine Li was intelligent, but her cleverness was never applied to honorable pursuits—a fact that greatly displeased him.

Once he fully understood the events from his dreams, he intended to teach Side Concubine Li a severe lesson, disciplining her thoroughly until she dared not scheme again.

Previously, he had ordered her to copy scriptures as a chance for reflection and redemption, but it seemed that effort had been wasted.

And as for the young prince… Though still a child, he would need to be moved away from Side Concubine Li’s care as he grew older. Better that trusted servants oversee his upbringing than risk Side Concubine Li poisoning his mind with her deceitful ways.

Yinreng lowered his gaze as Side Concubine Li finally managed to free herself from the child’s grasp. She bowed respectfully and said, “Rest assured, Your Highness, I won’t forget.” The preparations for Wang Gege’s memorial ritual had already been arranged well in advance. Side Concubine Li always handled such formalities impeccably. She then asked, “Shall we choose an auspicious day to celebrate the young prince’s hundredth day?”

“We already held a grand celebration for his full month,” Yinreng shook his head. “Let’s keep the hundredth day low-key. The deceased should be respected, and keeping things quiet will also be better for the little prince’s fortune. No need to overshadow it.”

Side Concubine Li agreed.

The physician outside had just finished writing a prescription for a medicinal bath. The young prince had developed some milk rashes, and since children have sensitive skin, a herbal bath was the best solution.

Yinreng asked the physician to check his pulse while he was there. The physician, cautious of Yinreng’s expression, considered for a moment before advising that the summer heat could cause some discomfort, but it was nothing serious. “A couple of bowls of mung bean soup should help cool you down,” he suggested.

Yinreng was pleased and rewarded the physician. Now he had a plausible reason for his recent discomfort, even if Emperor Kangxi inquired. Most importantly, this would shield Cheng Gege from becoming a target for gossip or suspicion.

After giving the physician a signal, Yinreng had He Baozhong escort him out.

Returning to the main hall, Yinreng had barely sat down before He Baozhong came rushing in, his body shaking with excitement and joy. Yinreng stood immediately, not waiting for He Baozhong to approach before striding out: “To Cheng Gege’s quarters.”

He Baozhong, still breathless from his earlier run, quickly pivoted and followed behind, swallowing hard before grinning broadly. “Congratulations, Your Highness! Cheng Gege is truly blessed—she’s expecting!”

—

In the eastern wing of the rear palace, Side Concubine Li sat on the bedside, amusing the young prince with a rattle. Despite his age, the child still had no formal name, not because Yinreng had forgotten but because they were waiting for the Emperor to choose one. In the palace, where child mortality was high, formal names were rarely given until a child reached at least three years old. Side Concubine Li had affectionately nicknamed him “Amoor,” meaning peace.

Jin Mama leaned close to Side Concubine Li and whispered, “This servant saw He Baozhong take the physician to the back chambers. They stayed for about two quarters of an hour and left without prescribing anything. Just now, His Highness went over there, looking very pleased.”

Side Concubine Li raised an eyebrow, pausing briefly before responding, “Some people are simply fortunate.”

The young prince babbled as he crawled over and flopped into her arms. Her icy demeanor softened, and she held the child tightly, kissing him affectionately. She showed no further interest in Cheng Gege’s affairs.

Jin Mama was puzzled, but Side Concubine Li offered no explanation.

Some things, Side Concubine Li thought, were simply fate. Wang Gege had conceived first, and as a result, Cheng Gege had inadvertently escaped danger. Now that Cheng Gege was pregnant, it made no difference to Side Concubine Li.

“I’m not a naturally malicious person,” Side Concubine Li told herself, burying her face in the child’s milk-scented neck and closing her stinging eyes. “I had no choice. This wasn’t my fault.”

If she didn’t fight for herself now, her future fate would be even more miserable than that of Lady Yang and Wang Gege. This child was now her lifeline.

—

In the back chambers, Cheng Wanyun stared blankly at the flickering candle flame on the table. What she feared had come true.

Heavens! She had no idea when it happened, but a tiny life had quietly begun to grow inside her!

Now, it had just been a month.

Yinzhen strode in swiftly, pulling Cheng Wanyun into his embrace before she could rise to greet him. He held her tightly, his voice filled with excitement as he whispered near her ear:

“A Wan, this is wonderful news! You have no idea—these past two days I felt like a prisoner awaiting execution. Your news is the only light of hope for me!”

The Crown Prince was usually composed and measured, even when playful. But now, he seemed as if he wanted to lift her up and spin her around, though hesitant for fear of affecting her pregnancy. His joy was infectious, gradually easing Cheng Wanyun’s worries as she leaned into his embrace with a sense of comfort.

Given the circumstances, fretting endlessly would do no good. It was better to focus on safely navigating her pregnancy and delivering a healthy child.

Yet thoughts of Wang Gege, who had died during childbirth, haunted her. Night after night, these worries robbed her of sleep. Within days, she had visibly lost weight. Yinreng was furious, nearly punishing all her attendants with a beating.

Her severe early pregnancy symptoms also worsened with time. She often vomited until only bile remained. Seeing her condition deteriorate, Yinreng dispatched messengers to her family in Huizhou and petitioned Emperor Kangxi to appoint a seasoned, gentle-faced matron from the Imperial Household Department to assist her.

The matron, surnamed Guan, happened to hail from Huizhou as well and knew how to prepare local dishes, including her famous sweet and sour braised tofu.

At night, Madam Guan stayed by her side, holding her hand and recounting her own pregnancy experiences, assuring her it wasn’t as daunting as it seemed. She even taught breathing techniques for labor, confidently stating that Cheng Wanyun’s strong constitution would see her through.

Gradually, Cheng Wanyun calmed down. After half a month, though she still struggled with food aversions and strong smells, she regained some weight.

Around this time, Emperor Kangxi announced his decision to lead a campaign beyond the border personally.

As expected, Yinreng was ordered to stay behind, which left Yinzhi elated. He paraded around in the imperial armor gifted by Kangxi, boasting endlessly. The display left Yinreng furious, darkening his mood for days.

Assigned to oversee the nation and supervise grain supplies alongside Third Prince Yinzhong, Yinreng became so busy that he practically lived at the Ministry of Revenue, rarely finding time to return to Yuqing Palace.

Cheng Wanyun couldn’t offer much assistance, but whenever He Baozhong came to retrieve the Crown Prince’s daily clothes, she would have Qingxing deliver soft-baked toast, croissants, honey cakes, and similar snacks. Afterward, He Baozhong often requested more, explaining that the Crown Prince was so busy he barely had time to eat, and these treats were the easiest way for him to grab a few bites. He even asked her to prepare more whenever possible.

While the Crown Prince was busy outside, Cheng Wanyun struggled with food at home.

Her usual favorites were no longer edible—greasy foods made her nauseous, and bland dishes were unappetizing. She used to enjoy scallion oil noodles, prompting Eunuch Zheng to prepare fresh scallion oil for her every day. The oil added a delicious touch to spring vegetables and dumplings. Yet now, even the scent of it was unbearable.

Madam Guan chuckled, “The little young master in your belly is quite particular!”

Cheng Wanyun laughed helplessly—how true that was.

Initially, she had worried about overeating uncontrollably like Wang Gege, but her situation turned out to be the opposite—there were barely any meals she could eat properly. Qingxing and Bitao constantly ran to the kitchen, brainstorming new dishes alongside the increasingly anxious Eunuch Zheng.

Only Madam Guan remained unflustered. She led Hongying to wash and sun-dry large mustard greens for four to five days until the leaves turned a soft yellow-green. She then shredded the dried leaves, salted them, and kneaded until juices emerged before sealing them in a ceramic jar stored in a cool spot.

After half a month of fermenting, the jar was opened to reveal glossy, dark, savory dried mustard greens.

That evening, Madam Guan prepared a fragrant dish of braised pork belly with dried mustard greens. Layered with meat and vegetables, the pork was tender and infused with the greens’ refreshing aroma, making it rich but not greasy. The greens themselves were glossy and flavorful, while the savory broth beneath was perfect for drizzling over rice. Cheng Wanyun, with her finicky appetite, was utterly won over by the dish’s hearty fragrance.

Madam Guan followed up with mustard greens-braised fish, mustard greens-stewed potatoes, and bamboo shoot soup—all bursting with freshness.

Thanks to that single jar of mustard greens, Cheng Wanyun weathered the toughest stage of pregnancy cravings.

Fortunately, she had built a good relationship with Eunuch Zheng early on, so no gossip reached Li or Tang Concubine about her unusual dietary demands. Tang Gege even shyly approached her to exchange old personal handkerchiefs. Before Cheng Wanyun understood the purpose, Madam Guan chuckled from behind, “Young Tang Gege will surely have good news soon.”

Tang Gege fled in embarrassment.

It turned out she was trying to “borrow pregnancy luck!”

Now able to eat properly, Cheng Wanyun finally felt half her worries ease. The remaining concerns were entrusted to Madam Guan. Practical and steady, she made sure Cheng Wanyun rose at dawn for a slow stroll around the courtyard to stimulate her appetite and warm her body before breakfast. After eating, she wouldn’t allow her to lie down immediately but had her lean on Qingxing and stand for two quarters of an hour before resting.

With Madam Guan overseeing her, Cheng Wanyun’s daily routine became very regular.

As a result, her skin improved, her face became a bit rounder, and her complexion was even better than before she was pregnant.

The physician who regularly checked her pulse was one the Crown Prince had specifically appointed. He was said to be the head of the Imperial Medical Office, who also treated the Crown Prince and Emperor Kangxi. His beard and hair had turned completely white, and his face was full of deep wrinkles, which made him appear very trustworthy given his age.

Tang Gege gifted her a silver longevity lock, while Side Concubine Li gave her some supplements, which Cheng Wanyun now feared. She quickly locked them in the storage room. Madam Guan agreed, advising that it was unnecessary to consume too many warming supplements when nothing was wrong. “Over-supplementing can lead to heat and inflammation, which would be counterproductive. It’s better to just eat well and sleep well.”

Cheng Wanyun thought that if Madam Guan lived in modern times, she would definitely be a top-tier maternity nurse earning twenty thousand a month.

With Madam Guan’s protection, her days passed peacefully. The only source of unhappiness was Mi Mi. The cat had originally slept on the dresser in Cheng Wanyun’s room, where she had specially sewn a cozy cat nest for it.

After she became pregnant, Madam Guan no longer allowed Mi Mi to enter the room. Every day, she kept guard with a broom, preventing the cat from coming in, and the two—one person and one cat—often found themselves in a standoff. Qingxing tried to tempt Mi Mi with dried fish and even created two new wicker cat beds to place in her room. Gradually, Mi Mi’s resentment was eased, and she reluctantly agreed to move to Qingxing’s room to sleep.

However, after only two days, Qingxing came to work with dark circles under her eyes, barely able to stay awake while sewing. Bitao, laughing so hard she nearly collapsed, said, “Mi Mi doesn’t even sleep in her own bed! Every night, she jumps onto the bed and sits right on Qingxing’s face to sleep. Qingxing gets woken up every day by that stinky cat’s backside, hahaha!”

Cheng Wanyun couldn’t help but laugh along, nearly toppling over from amusement.

“What are you two laughing about?” Yinreng asked, standing at the door after watching them laugh and banter for a while before walking in.

Cheng Wanyun then recounted the whole story with vivid detail. Seeing her lively and animated expression, Yinreng felt his previously heavy heart lighten. He sat beside her, taking her hand in his.

The people in the room immediately exchanged looks and quietly left.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you. How have you been lately?” Yinreng asked, carefully observing her. She was wearing a simple blue home outfit, her hair loosely tied up. Despite her simple appearance, her complexion had a healthy rosy glow, indicating she was doing well.

“I’ve been great. Madam Guan has been a great help, and I haven’t properly thanked the Crown Prince yet,” Cheng Wanyun said, genuinely grateful for Madam Guan’s assistance.

“That’s good,” Yinreng replied. “Previously, I didn’t pay much attention to Wang Gege. She used the nanny sent by Side Concubine Li from the Imperial Household Department. But this time, I personally took care of everything. I won’t let anyone find a way to exploit the situation.” He smiled, “Since she’s been so helpful, let her stay by your side. We’ll need her when we have our next child.”

“Your Highness!” Cheng Wanyun blushed. “How can you think about the next child when this one hasn’t even been born yet?”

Yinreng laughed heartily and playfully tapped her nose. “You’ll be a mother soon; there’s no need to be shy about it.”

The two of them continued whispering sweetly to each other for a while. He didn’t stay long, as there were still many matters outside that needed his attention, especially…

He was interrupted by He Baozhong rushing in. “Your Highness…”

Yinreng immediately stood up, turned around to hug Cheng Wanyun, and said, “I’ll be leaving now. I’ll come see you when I have the time. Take good care of yourself.”

Cheng Wanyun followed him to the courtyard gate. Yinreng had already taken two or three steps when, unexpectedly, he turned back and walked toward her again, embracing her once more.

She could sense an inexplicable unease emanating from the Crown Prince, but he said nothing. After a while, he quietly let go of her and walked away, not looking back as he boarded the sedan chair.

The sedan chair swayed gently as it moved further away.

Yinreng closed his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts. Once he had left Yuqing Palace, he asked, “Is there something urgent?”

“Yes, His Majesty’s decree has returned!” He Baozhong, who had been walking beside the sedan chair, whispered mysteriously. “He ordered you and Third Prince to receive the decree together.”

Yinreng opened his eyes, his expression unchanged, but the hand resting on the armrest of the sedan chair unconsciously tightened.

He looked toward the distant horizon, where dark clouds loomed overhead, and it seemed that a heavy rain was approaching.

As expected… just as had been shown to him in the dream.