NOVEL NEXT Chapter 32 - Childbirth
By the time the decree for the end of mourning finally arrived, it was already mid-November. The maple tree in the courtyard of the rear chambers had gradually changed its leaves from green to red. Amidst the desolate autumn winds, it became the only vibrant and striking color, burning like fire.
Cheng Wanyun loved it and often sat by the window to enjoy the view. She even picked a few beautiful leaves and pressed them in her books as bookmarks.
The one who had passed away was gone, and the living had to gradually return to their original lives. The authority over the harem had been handed over to Noble Concubine Niohuru and the four concubines, and the atmosphere in the palace gradually settled back to calm after the shift in power.
Recently, the Crown Prince had been in good spirits. He often carried a thick stack of letters, reading them over and over again. When he came to Cheng Wanyun’s place, he never forgot to bring them, rocking in his chair and reading the same letters three or four times a day. Each time he finished, he wore a satisfied expression.
The wax seal on the envelope looked very familiar, so whenever the Crown Prince read the letters, Cheng Wanyun would take the opportunity to avoid him.
She had discovered a new use for the oven—crispy baked tofu! It was absolutely fantastic. All it took were two blocks of water tofu. She cut the tofu into thumb-sized pieces and baked them in the oven for half an hour, flipping them and brushing oil once in the middle. It turned out perfectly!
The freshly baked tofu would puff up. Though one couldn’t eat hot tofu right away, it was essential to eat it while still warm, as it had that perfect crispy exterior and tender interior.
Cheng Wanyun had also prepared several dipping sauces—sweet and spicy, sour and spicy, cumin-flavored. Dipping the tofu in these sauces was comparable to the teppanyaki tofu of later generations. She would hide in front of the oven, breathing out in steam from the hot tofu, but couldn’t stop herself from eating.
The autumn air was crisp, and Yinreng sat in his room reading the letter. After reading it for the final time, he finally felt a sense of reality. His emotions seemed to drift with the wind, heading towards the vast northern desert.
The matter of the Treaty of Nerchinsk had been decided.
Before Golovin’s arrival, Mingzhu and Suoetu had managed to contact the exiled Mongols. With the protection of these Mongols, they used the excuse of trading grain and farming tools to move through the city, subtly implying how well the people were living under the rule of the Qing, enjoying peace and freedom. The idyllic picture they painted easily swayed the hearts of the border city’s fragile and vulnerable populace.
On the first day of Golovin’s arrival, he arrogantly presented a series of negotiation demands, as if in a dream. Faced with this aggressive approach, Mingzhu, smiling, calmly restrained the irritable Suoetu and agreed to everything.
Suoetu’s face darkened, and he grunted heavily, “No backbone.”
Mingzhu’s smile deepened as he shook her finger. “Let him jump higher, the fight will be more enjoyable that way.”
On the first day of negotiations, Golovin continued to act as if in a dream, playing the role of the villain who complained first. He spoke endlessly at the negotiation table, while Mingzhu, attending in his capacity as vice envoy, remained silent, allowing Suoetu and Golovin to argue and accuse each other.
On the second day, Golovin proposed that all lands north of the Heilong River be ceded to Russia. Suoetu once again erupted in anger. After much argument, Golovin feigned concession and said, “In that case, let’s draw the boundary at the Niu Man River.”
Suoetu was about to respond when Mingzhu stepped on his foot.
When he yelped and turned around, Mingzhu signaled Xu Risheng to translate, saying, “Our only demand in this negotiation is this: The lands along both banks of the Heilong River, the Khalkha Mongols, and east of Lake Baikal all belong to China. The Russians must return Nerchinsk and Yaksa, with the Lena River and Lake Baikal as the border. Everything else is off the table.”
Golovin strongly opposed and slandered, arguing that the Russians had been nomadic around Lake Baikal for generations—how could that land be considered Qing territory?
Mingzhu said little, smiling calmly. “If we can’t reach an agreement, then it’s over. Let’s go.”
Mingzhu pulled the bewildered Suoetu along, waved to Xu Risheng and Zhang Cheng, and stood up to leave.
Golovin, stunned, widened his eyes. What support did the Qing court have to be so tough? The shrewd Golovin remained calm, not stopping them from leaving. Instead, he used the opportunity to call for a recess and spread rumors about sending more musketeers to Nerchinsk, hoping to pressure the Qing delegation.
He knew better than anyone that negotiations couldn’t be rushed.
Meanwhile, Mingzhu was inside the tent, roasting lamb with Suoetu.
Inside the tent, there was a fire pit, with a small lamb roasting on a metal grate. The lamb was perfectly cooked, its skin golden and crispy, the meat browned and fragrant. But once the knife was used to cut open the belly, the inside revealed tender, juicy meat that still held the original fragrance of the lamb, now infused with the smoky flavor of the roast sauce—rich and savory.
“Mingzhu, your roasting skills are quite good,” Suoetu said, chewing the meat with large bites, his words muffled. “But it’s already this time, and you’re still roasting meat? What if a fight really breaks out… I’m not afraid, but if that happens, you and I will both be in trouble when we return.”
Suoetu had originally come to argue with Mingzhu, but before he could even lift the tent flap, he was suddenly hit by a delicious aroma. Following the scent, he entered the tent and found Mingzhu calmly brushing sauce onto the lamb.
The smell of the meat was so strong that, as Suoetu spoke, he accidentally spat out a few flecks of saliva.
Mingzhu, slightly disgusted, moved to the side, avoiding the meat splatter from Suoetu. He carefully sliced a piece of sizzling lamb with a Mongolian knife, placed it in his mouth, and chewed slowly before saying, “After you finish eating, get ready. Tomorrow, before dawn, we’ll have the soldiers do some drills by the river. Make them work hard—beat the drums and blow the horns. Let that old man lose some sleep.”
“You really are a devious one,” Suoetu said, grinning broadly. He loved scaring people, and he would also get the soldiers to practice so their blades didn’t rust.
That night, as Golovin lay in bed, he was suddenly startled by the sound of cannon fire.
In a hurry, he followed his guards to the city wall and was taken aback by what he saw.
Across the river, there were countless soldiers and ships, flags fluttering and cannons lined up.
One of his guards said, “The Qing delegation has informed us they are conducting military drills. Please don’t be alarmed, Ambassador.”
Golovin: “…”
The strength of the Qing military had been quietly observed by the border civilians of Nerchinsk.
“Let me see the face of that yellow-haired old man when he gets humbled!” On the opposite bank, Mingzhu’s Western telescope was suddenly grabbed by Suoetu. “Hahaha, look at him! His face is as wrinkled as an old gourd…”
This fool really didn’t know what courtesy meant! Mingzhu was speechless, then turned to take another telescope from one of his personal guards.
Golovin sensed an uncomfortable feeling from the military drills, and that evening, he demanded to continue the negotiations.
True to his reputation as a skilled negotiator, Golovin showed no sign of weakness. Instead, he pressed on, firmly stating that Tsar Peter would never give up Yaksa. The Qing demands were unacceptable, and he suggested the boundary be set at the Shilka River. He had already made a significant concession!
Mingzhu smiled and rejected the offer. “The Qing’s demands are very clear. If the ambassador cannot accept them, we are not opposed to using force to resolve this dispute.”
“You want to discuss the boundary between Khalkha and Siberia, but…” Golovin stood up, his eyes dark and cold. “Khalkha has already been occupied by Galdan. The Qing has no right to negotiate with us, the Russians, about this!”
After speaking, Golovin’s sharp, eagle-like gaze swept over the faces of the Qing delegation. To his surprise, Mingzhu, Suoetu, and the others remained calm, completely unmoved.
Golovin was still puzzled. Before he could speak again, he suddenly heard the sound of shouting and killing from inside the city of Nerchinsk.
Golovin’s expression changed drastically!
“Now, Ambassador, can we speak properly?” Mingzhu still wore that smile, and his smile seemed even deeper now.
Golovin slumped into his chair, and for a long time, he didn’t speak again.
After that, the negotiations went smoothly. Golovin finally lowered his arrogantly held head, but even after making concessions, he remained meticulous, bargaining with Mingzhu, constantly haggling. In the end, he humbled himself to the dust, carefully measuring every inch, negotiating each detail, and even when he had to plead and show weakness, he used every trick he could to bargain and maneuver.
Suoetu was utterly disgusted by Golovin’s shameless, fickle, and crafty personality. He had long wanted to send troops to surround Nerchinsk, but Mingzhu stopped him: “We have achieved our goal, there’s no need to push them to the brink.”
“When a rabbit is cornered, it will bite,” he thought. “This is a case of going too far.”
Yinreng, after reading the letter, had a very different impression compared to Suoetu. He had come to somewhat admire Golovin.
He believed Golovin was a loyal minister.
Unlike the Golovin of his dream, who had been dominating and advancing with ease, the real Golovin was now beset on all sides, fighting alone. Yet, he did not give up lightly and still fought with all his might for his country.
The final result of the negotiation was that the Russian Empire would return Nerchinsk and Yaksa, with the boundary set along the Greater Khingan Range to Lake Baikal.
However, Lake Baikal itself remained entirely under Russian control.
This result was actually consistent with the border before the Russians had invaded the Heilongjiang River basin. The Qing did not gain any new land from the Russians, nor did they lose any of their own.
When this result was reported back to the capital, Emperor Kangxi personally marked the memorial with three large “Good” characters, urging Suoetu and Mingzhu to quickly sign the treaty.
On September 7th, the 28th year of Kangxi’s reign, the Qing and Russian empires signed a peace agreement at Nerchinsk, with Suoetu representing the Qing court and Golovin signing the treaty in Latin, Russian, and Manchu, with three copies in each language.
After the treaty was signed, Mingzhu and Suoetu did not immediately return. Instead, they oversaw the installation of boundary markers and the handover of troops at Nerchinsk and Yaksa. When the Russian forces left Nerchinsk, the local border population celebrated with songs and dances, waving ribbons and flowers to welcome the Qing soldiers.
After completing all these tasks, Mingzhu proposed to Suoetu that the two countries should establish trade ports. Otherwise, the Russians would not survive the winter, and incidents of raiding across Siberia would likely happen again.
At that point, the treaty would become meaningless.
As a result, although Yinreng received the letter in November, the Qing delegation had not yet returned.
Emperor Kangxi had already received the memorial from the delegation, which reported that they were still in Nerchinsk, and he had replied promptly: “Very good! This strategy will stabilize the border and win the hearts of the people.”
He had dreamt twice, and on both occasions, the outcome had been successfully altered. How could Yinreng not be pleased? Could it be that Heaven was protecting the Qing dynasty, leading him to have such warning dreams twice in a row?
Yinreng looked forward to returning to the dream, but dreams never came with warning signs, nor did they have any clear causes. The two dreams were unrelated, and after some time, he no longer focused his thoughts on such intangible matters.
By the time December arrived, the palace had already begun preparing for the New Year. Supplies from the royal farms were being transported to the palace, as any later, when the snow grew heavier, the roads would become impassable.
In the Yuqing Palace, preparations were no exception. First, officials from the Bureau of Attire arrived to take measurements for the Crown Prince’s winter clothing. As the person with the highest clothing specifications after Emperor Kangxi, the Crown Prince’s New Year wardrobe was extensive and formal, including ceremonial robes, auspicious robes, casual wear, and military attire, all made of exquisite ‘kesi’ silk.
When the officials from the Bureau of Attire arrived, the Crown Prince was in Cheng Wanyun’s courtyard, playing with the cat.
Cheng Wanyun had made a cat toy out of chicken feathers and colorful stones. The cat, Mi Mi, was delighted by it, pouncing and rolling around every time it was brought out. If the toy was placed on its tail, Mi Mi would widen its eyes, twist around suddenly to grab its tail, and bite down. Inevitably, it would hurt itself and let out a loud “meow.” Yet, it never learned its lesson and repeated the same mistake every time, much to Yinreng’s amusement.
At that moment, someone came to the door to announce that the Bureau of Attire had sent people to take the Crown Prince’s measurements.
Since the Crown Prince was still growing, last year’s clothing no longer fit, so new outfits had to be prepared every year.
Yinreng, unwilling to leave, decided to have the measurements taken right there.
This was the first time Cheng Wanyun witnessed such an event.
The Crown Prince’s auspicious robe was a pale yellow four-clawed mang robe—distinct from the Emperor’s bright yellow—but all other specifications were identical to those of the Emperor.
During the New Year’s court ceremony, when the Crown Prince accompanied Kangxi to receive the obeisance of civil and military officials, he would wear this pale yellow four-clawed mang robe, topped with an ermine cloak, adorned with court beads, and tied with a ceremonial belt. After the court ceremony, he would change into a moon-white ‘kesi’ robe embroidered with multicolored clouds and a blue mang dragon to visit the Empress Dowager at Ning Shou Palace. In the evening, for the grand New Year’s banquet on New Year’s Eve, he would change again into a fragrant-colored ‘kesi’ mang robe.
The banquet had three parts: the first was for officials and nobles, the second for imperial consorts, and the third for princes and royal family members.
Each part of the banquet required different attire, meaning the Crown Prince had to change five or six times in a single day. It was truly exhausting!
Next, the palace began preparing for the Spring Festival couplets.
The palace required a large number of couplets, so preparations began early. First, the Ministry of Works would determine the style and dimensions of the couplets according to the specifications and rank of each palace and hall. The Imperial Household Department would then produce them. Some areas required white silk, others needed red paper edged with yellow silk, while door god paintings also had to be created. After the numbers and styles were confirmed, the most talented scholars from the Hanlin Academy were tasked with inscribing auspicious phrases in elegant and ornate calligraphy.
Once the inscriptions were complete, they were stored until the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month when all ministries and offices “sealed their records” for the year, and the couplets were then displayed.
In the Yuqing Palace, the Crown Prince wrote the Spring Festival couplets himself.
He wrote a couplet for Cheng Wanyun: “The world renews as spring fills the garden, a blessed year is heaven’s gift to the fortunate.” This conveyed his hope that she would remain blessed and enjoy a good life. For Concubine Wang, he wrote: “Wealth and fortune in springtime, safety and peace are golden.”—a wish for her to give birth safely. For Side Concubine Li, he wrote: “Blessings in a peaceful world, kindness and harmony within the community.”
Side Concubine Li, upon reading it, merely smiled and said, “Peace? Kindness and harmony? The Crown Prince still doesn’t fully trust me.”
After saying this, she instructed Mama Jin to store the couplet carefully.
When the New Year festivities finally ended, Cheng Wanyun let out a sigh of relief.
It was her first time experiencing the New Year in the palace, and she had not expected the extensive rules and exhausting rituals. Fortunately, as a low-ranking gege, she didn’t need to enter the palace for New Year greetings or attend the banquets. The Crown Prince, however, had no such luck. Since the twelfth lunar month began, he had practically become an accessory to Kangxi, constantly occupied with one task after another.
From the first day of the New Year to the fifteenth, there were activities planned for each day. For example, during the “welcoming of the gods,” Kangxi would lead the Crown Prince to the Buddhist hall to offer incense and perform rituals. Firecrackers were set off during their entry and exit. This practice, referred to as “raising heads to invite the gods, lowering heads to tread on the years,” involved choosing an auspicious day to scatter sesame stalks from the household to the main gate. Walking over the stalks symbolized a prayer for blessings, and the ritual was called “treading on the years.”
The Crown Prince led his brothers in treading the path once at Qianqing Palace and again at Ning shou Palace, collecting New Year’s money on both occasions.
Returning to Yuqing Palace, the Crown Prince placed a heavy gold silk embroidered pouch in Cheng Wanyun’s hand. It was shaped like a “fortune fish.” Smiling, he pulled her to the veranda, where they walked over sesame stalks again. The stalks crackled under their feet, blending with the sound of firecrackers outside. Holding her hand with a warm and gentle gaze, he sincerely wished her, “May my dear Wanyun have a year as prosperous as sesame flowers blooming higher and higher, with peace and safety every year.”
Cheng Wanyun’s eyes grew hot with emotion. She turned and hugged him tightly like a little bear, burying her head in his chest as she listened to his deep laughter.
What was she going to do with this boy who was already so good at being affectionate at such a young age?
Stay calm! Stay calm!
—
As the twelfth lunar month began, Cheng Wanyun busied herself with traditional preparations: worshipping the Kitchen God, cleaning, making jujube cakes, and preparing New Year’s gifts for Ladies Li and Wang. She also cut window decorations and checked the storeroom for materials that wouldn’t violate palace regulations. These were given as “Outstanding Employee” awards to the servants in her courtyard. Year-end bonuses were distributed based on everyone’s work throughout the year.
Tianjin was so happy with his reward that he smiled constantly. For eunuchs like him, nothing mattered more than tangible silver. The maids, Hongying, Qingxing, and Bitao, were equally delighted. They hoped to save enough money to secure good marriages for their families after leaving the palace.
Tianyin, however, was calm. After accepting his silver, bowing, and giving thanks, he gave more than half of it to the younger eunuchs who did rough labor outside. With heavy snow falling twice before the New Year, these eunuchs were tasked with clearing it. Their hands and faces became swollen and frostbitten, yet they couldn’t afford to stop working or spend money on proper care. They simply endured.
Having been a rough labor eunuch himself for many years, Tianyin understood their struggles and shared his bonus with them.
When Cheng Wanyun learned of this, she increased the monthly stipend for rough labor eunuchs and maids. As for Tianyin, his quiet and reserved nature was notable. He managed the storeroom with diligence, meticulously maintaining inventory records. He never sought attention or flattered her. Even when reporting tasks, he spoke briefly and directly, never adding unnecessary words or compliments.
Unlike Tianjin, who was charming and sly, constantly receiving bribes and gifts from others, Tianyin had no extra income aside from his monthly salary.
Cheng Wanyun called Qingxing to discuss whether they should secretly give Tianyin extra silver.
Qingxing, who was observant and often chatted with Tianyin, shook her head. “Tianyin has no family left, and he himself is rootless. No matter how much silver he saves, it’s meaningless. He’s like a scholar who’s read too many books and lost touch with the world. All he wants is to quietly serve you. He doesn’t ask for anything else, and I doubt he’d even accept the silver. Don’t worry, I’ll look out for him and make sure he never goes hungry.”
Cheng Wanyun agreed. Giving him silver, no matter how discreetly, might attract attention and jealousy from others, which could cause him trouble. If he wanted a quiet place to live out his days, why disrupt his peace?
With her own courtyard affairs settled, she began selecting New Year’s gifts.
For Side Concubine Li, Cheng Wanyun prepared a zitan wood bed screen, ordinary in most aspects except for its exquisitely intricate carvings. Jin Mama (Side Concubine Li’s maid) had repeatedly mentioned how much Side Concubine Li liked it, so in return, she gave Cheng Wanyun a green jade incense burner with animal-shaped legs.
For Tang Gege, she prepared a gold abacus, made entirely of solid gold. For Wang Gege, she selected a Hundred Sons Blessing quilt embroidered with Suzhou-style stitching, which had been blessed in the temple through the Crown Prince’s arrangement. The embroidery was stunning, and if Cheng Wanyun hadn’t been at a loss for what else to gift, she would have kept it for herself.
—
Wang Gege was pregnant and had been staying indoors more often. Cheng Wanyun only saw her during the New Year celebrations, and she was shocked at the sight. Wang Gege looked as plump as an over-risen steamed bun, her skin pale and puffy to the point of being almost unrecognizable.
Her stomach was astonishingly large, but she herself had gained quite a bit of weight.
Having no experience with pregnancy herself in her previous life, Cheng Wanyun only knew of friends who had early marriages and children. Those who overate often ended up with babies weighing over eight pounds, too big for a natural birth, requiring cesareans. With good intentions, she advised, “Now that you’re heavier, it’s better to eat in moderation. Otherwise, if the baby grows too big, it’ll be hard to give birth and cause you a lot of suffering.”
Wang Gege, looking a bit embarrassed but resigned, cradled her belly and sighed, “I know, but ever since the first three months passed, my appetite has grown daily. If I don’t eat enough during the day, I wake up hungry at night. Plus, the baby kicks and punches so much that it keeps me awake.”
“What do the imperial physicians say?” Cheng Wanyun asked, lacking personal experience.
“The physicians say the baby is healthy. They’ve checked the position, and it’s normal. The baby’s size isn’t unusually large—it’s just that I’m small, so it looks bigger than it really is. It should be fine,” Wang Gege replied, lowering her head with a tender smile. “I suppose this child must be a little spirit. Most of the weight has gone to me instead.”
Since the physicians had said everything was fine, Cheng Wanyun didn’t worry further. After a bit more small talk, she took her leave.
—
On her way back, Cheng Wanyun saw Tang Gege returning from delivering account books to Side Concubine Li. During the late Empress Xiaoyi’s mourning period, Tang Gege had temporarily managed the household affairs. With the New Year following shortly after and Side Concubine Li needing to accompany the Crown Prince to the palace, she had continued overseeing matters until now.
Now that the holiday had passed, Tang Gege took the initiative to hand back the account books. However, Side Concubine Li refused to accept them.
Jin Mama, smiling warmly, walked out to see Tang Gege off and said, “The secondary concubine has been so overworked lately that her body can’t take it anymore. She’s feeling unwell and resting. She asks that Tang Gege kindly continue managing things for a while longer.”
Earlier, Cheng Wanyun had noticed how pale and thin Side Concubine Li had become. Seeing this, Tang Gege dared not refuse.
In fact, she didn’t want to refuse.
Without experiencing management, one wouldn’t understand its privileges. The servants treated her with newfound deference, unlike their previous slack behavior.
Feeling proud and accomplished, Tang Gege greeted Cheng Wanyun with the same cheerful expression. They exchanged polite bows and started chatting.
“Did you just return from visiting Sister Wang?” Tang Gege asked. “How is she? I’ve been so busy these days that I haven’t had time to see her.”
As she spoke, she shifted the account books from her left hand to her right, almost as if wanting to make sure Cheng Wanyun noticed them. “I’m so honored that Sister Li trusts me enough to keep managing the household affairs. Someone as shallow as me is hardly qualified for such a responsibility, but Sister Li insisted, and with her needing to recover, I couldn’t refuse. Ah… In the future, Sister Cheng, I hope you’ll also help guide me when needed.”
“Not at all,” Cheng Wanyun replied, catching the hint of bragging in Tang Gege’s tone but paying it no mind. She smiled and said, “Sister Tang, you’re the one who’s truly capable. I’m still young and inexperienced, so I’ll be counting on you to take care of me.”
Whoever wanted to do the work could do it—Cheng Wanyun had no intention of volunteering. The imaginary “Salted fish Aura” above her head was practically sparkling.
Tang Gege, clearly pleased by the response, offered a few compliments about Cheng Wanyun’s attire and hairpin before finally taking her leave.
—
In the eastern side hall, Side Concubine Li finished her medicine under the care of Chun Jian, rinsing her mouth when Jin Mama entered holding a pouch.
“Did you send off Tang Gege?” Side Concubine Li asked.
Jin Mama nodded. “I’d say she’s so pleased she doesn’t know which way is north.” Yet, she couldn’t help but feel perplexed. Wasn’t this essentially giving Tang Gege a chance to rise? Power that was handed out could be hard to reclaim later.
Side Concubine Li chuckled. “If she’s eager to handle those trifling matters, then I get to enjoy some peace and quiet.”
After a brief pause, and once Chun Jian had left to fetch water, Side Concubine Li took a book from the shelf, shaking her head as she said, “Besides, Wang Gege is due to give birth soon. I’m eager to toss this hot potato away, and here she is, running toward it.”
—
Side Concubine Li had deliberately allowed Wang Gege to nurture her pregnancy to such an extreme. It wasn’t just about making Wang Gege feel secure enough to eat well—it was also about ensuring the Crown Prince and the physicians didn’t notice anything unusual. This had required careful planning on her part.
Having lived in Yuqing Palace for so many years, how could Side Concubine Li not have loyal helpers in the kitchen? All she did was occasionally add some mild appetite-boosting and spleen-strengthening ingredients to Wang Gege’s black chicken soup. With such “kind intentions,” who could fault her?
The imperial physicians had said the fetus was healthy and not excessively large. But their assessments were based on general standards. Men like them wouldn’t understand that the mother’s stature and pelvic structure ultimately dictated whether childbirth would be smooth.
Side Concubine Li, whose own mother had given birth to seven or eight children, had an experienced midwife who’d accompanied her into the palace during her own pregnancy. She was well-versed in such matters. She had earlier reviewed Wang Gege’s clothing measurements from the Needlework Bureau and knew that Wang Gege was short and had an especially narrow pelvis. When the time came, the delivery would almost certainly be difficult.
This was precisely why Side Concubine Li was so willing to delegate household responsibilities.
With Mama Ling overseeing the outer courtyard and Tang Gege managing the inner courtyard, Side Concubine Li could remain bedridden, ostensibly recuperating. If anything went wrong, how could she possibly be held accountable?
—
On the 23rd of April, during the 29th year of Kangxi’s reign, Wang Gege went into labor at the third quarter of the Yin Hour (around 3:45 a.m.).
The news was reported to both Side Concubine Li and the Crown Prince simultaneously. Side Concubine Li immediately threw on her robe and hurried over.
Tang Gege remained composed, having already arranged for the midwives and prepared hot water. The delivery room, located in the west annex that had been vacant for over half a year, had been set up the previous month. Wang Gege had already been moved there.
Mama Ling assisted in keeping the servants in order, ensuring no one wandered about. Those not on duty were forbidden from leaving their quarters.
The Crown Prince soon arrived. He had been on his way to study when he received the news. He immediately sent two eunuchs—one to Qianqing Palace and the other to the Imperial Study—to request leave, then returned to wait in the front hall.
The sky was overcast, and on any other day, Cheng Wanyun would still be curled up under her warm blankets, reluctant to emerge. But today, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt restless. Sitting on the warm kang bed, she attempted some embroidery, but after only a few stitches, she found herself glancing toward the window.
Inside the delivery room, Wang Gege’s water had already broken, and her contractions were regular. The midwives were pressing on her abdomen to guide the baby out, instructing her to push. The baby’s head had begun to crown, but its shoulders became stuck.
The child was indeed larger than expected. The midwife’s forehead was drenched in sweat, and Wang Gege, overcome by the pain, fainted.
From morning until evening, she labored, but the baby wouldn’t come out.
The midwife, her hands bloodied, knelt before Side Concubine Li and said, “This isn’t working. We may need to use scissors.”
Side Concubine Li’s eyes flickered with indecision. Declaring she couldn’t make such a decision herself, she hurried to report the situation to the Crown Prince.
Meanwhile, Qianqing Palace had sent an experienced old midwife to oversee the delivery. The Crown Prince ordered her to enter the delivery room to assess the situation.
Side Concubine Li stood silently behind the Crown Prince, her eyes fixed on the old midwife as she entered the room. She didn’t even notice that her hand, hidden within her sleeve, was clenched tightly.