Concubine of the Eastern Palace (Qing Dynasty Time Travel)

In Cheng Wanyun’s eyes, the Crown Prince’s wedding seemed to have become a focal point of activity only starting in Kangxi’s 33rd year.

However, as someone born into an ordinary family in a later era, she couldn’t possibly fathom the immense resources, time, and effort required to prepare for a royal wedding funded by the people’s taxes and labor.

From the moment the betrothal decree was issued in Kangxi’s 31st year, the Emperor ordered Prince Yu, Fuquan, along with the chief ministers of the Imperial Household Department and the Ministers of Rites and Works, to carefully examine historical precedents and handle the arrangements with the utmost diligence.

Considering the numerous agencies involved in the Crown Prince’s wedding, a temporary institution called the “Crown Prince Wedding Ceremony Office” was established specifically to coordinate matters between the various departments.

Thus, as early as Kangxi’s 31st year, the Wedding Ceremony Office had already drafted a detailed list of dowry items needed for the wedding. This list was submitted to the court ministers, the Empress Dowager, and Kangxi himself for review and approval. By the autumn of the same year, the finalized list was sent to regional offices such as the Jiangnan Three Weaving Bureaus, Guangdong Customs, and the Fengjing Shanhai Customs Defense Circuit for procurement and preparation.

The Jiangnan Three Weaving Bureaus (Jiangning, Suzhou, Hangzhou) were in charge of all the textiles for the Crown Prince’s wedding. Among them, the Hangzhou Weaving Bureau, which specialized in plain and patterned fabrics, was tasked with supplying a total of 19,850 bolts of silk and satin for the wedding, making their task the most demanding.

The Guangdong Customs was responsible for sourcing the dowry items required for the Crown Princess, such as the court crown, court beads, phoenix coronet, jewelry, jade, and bells. The Fengjing Shanhai Customs Defense Circuit handled the supply of wooden items, timber, leather, horses, and other materials.

Once these items arrived in the capital, the Imperial Household Department’s Seven Offices and Three Courts became busy. Cheng Wanyun saw many ceremonial officials and Imperial Household staff entering and leaving the Yuqing Palace. Just taking the Construction Office as an example: the wooden warehouse in the Construction Office was responsible for providing wooden furniture, the iron warehouse for casting iron items, the pottery warehouse for making bamboo and wood items, the firewood warehouse for supplying firewood, the coal and lime warehouse for providing coal and lime, and the houseware warehouse for cooling canopies and mats. The firework and paint workshops were responsible for creating fireworks and painting.

Even the colorful canopies and blue cloth canopies for the marriage proposal banquet held at the Crown Princess’s residence had to be prepared by the Construction Office.

This was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to the preparations for the wedding.

If the Crown Princess’s father were still alive, all of this would have to be completed within six months. The Minister of the Imperial Household, Shang Zhi, must have been thankful for the sudden death of Shi Wenbing, as it allowed them three years to meticulously prepare and make this grand national event—second only to the Emperor’s wedding—look perfect.

How meticulous was the preparation? Tang Gege said: “For the Crown Prince’s wedding, during the rituals of presenting gifts, the celebratory banquets, and the ceremonial music, there must be performances of grand music and clear music. During the Crown Princess’s wedding rites, music must also be played, and there must be divine music during the ancestral worship.” To ensure the success of these three musical performances, officials from the Ceremony Office selected skilled musicians from the common people as early as the 31st year of Kangxi, training and rehearsing until the day before the wedding.

On the 8th of May, the long-empty Yuqing Palace’s main hall finally opened its double carved wooden doors and lattice windows. The three rooms on the west side were used for the ancestral worship, with separate spaces for offering to the kitchen gods, honoring the spirits, and a Buddhist pavilion for prayers—old customs that the Manchus retained since their entry into China. The two rooms on the east side were set aside as the East Warm Pavilion, newly decorated with auspicious clouds and festive red, where the Crown Prince and Crown Princess held their wedding ceremony.

The Crown Prince’s wedding ceremony was similar to that of the Emperor’s, including rituals such as presenting gifts, the grand procession, the formal announcement, the celebratory banquet, and the wedding night. The festivities lasted all day long, but these celebrations had nothing to do with the Crown Prince’s concubines.

Though Cheng Wanyun was eager to witness the grandeur of the wedding—after all, it was the only wedding of the Crown Prince of the Qing Dynasty, and such an event would never happen again—she hesitated because of her somewhat sensitive position. So, she decided not to attend the ceremony and instead stayed in the inner quarters with her two children, roasting two crispy chickens, brewing a pot of jasmine tea, and listening to the sounds of fireworks and flutes drifting in from outside as she enjoyed a quiet meal with E Linzhu and Hongxi.

On such a joyful day, Hongxuan was being cared for by his wet nurse in his own quarters. Harinauhai, of course, didn’t dare come over to eat. The other concubines, including Tang, Li, and Fan Gege, were unusually quiet, and the entire back palace seemed like a completely different world compared to the lively front palace.

Tang Gege and the others were likely feeling some trepidation. Cheng Wanyun, on the other hand, remained in good spirits. She was simply thinking about whether she would still be able to sleep in now.

Although after having children, Cheng Wanyun could no longer successfully sleep until the “si” time (9-11 am), E Linzhu and Hongxi, who were clearly not born in the Year of the Rooster, were even more punctual than the morning rooster. Every day, they would come running into the West Warm Pavilion at dawn, jumping onto her bed.

Several times, the Crown Prince woke up groggily with E Linzhu hanging around his neck and Hongxi sprawled on his back, with not a stitch of clothing on. E Linzhu would even cheekily scratch his face with her small hand, saying, “Father, you’re shy!”

Cheng Wanyun, who had already woken up at the sound of the door, would secretly chuckle as she wrapped herself in a blanket and hid behind the screen.

The wedding day did not involve Cheng Wanyun and the others, but the next day, they were to pay their respects to the Crown Princess. However, early in the morning, the Crown Prince had to take the Crown Princess, Shi, to Ning Shou Palace and Qianqing Palace to greet the Empress Dowager and Kangxi, paying their respects and kowtowing. They would also have to visit the four concubines in their respective palaces.

As for the Imperial Concubine… Imperial Concubine Niu Hulu passed away on the 3rd of November last year. It was said her health had been poor for some time, but she had kept it a secret until last year when the Imperial Physician Qi noticed irregularities in her pulse, but by then, she was already on the brink of death.

Now, in her Yongshou Palace, only Wang Daiying and the Fifteenth Prince resided. Wang Daiying had become pregnant again last year. Before Imperial Concubine Niu passed, she had been tending to her medication and health, despite her growing belly. No matter how much anyone advised her, she wouldn’t listen. Kangxi, seeing her loyalty, did not promote her rank but had the Imperial Household Department provide her with the treatment befitting a concubine. As a result, people outside began to respectfully call her “Wang Guiren.”

Imperial Concubine Niu Hulu was posthumously honored with the title “Wenxi Guifei”, meaning “gentle and considerate” and “careful and respectful”. It seemed that Kangxi, in the end, still remembered their years of relationship and did not hold her previous attempt to align with the Crown Prince against her, choosing these two words to praise her life.

Today, before dawn, the Crown Prince sent He Baozhong to speak with Cheng Wanyun’s servants in the courtyard. He told them that she need not wake up early to wait. After meeting the four concubines, he and the Crown Princess would return to Ning Shou Palace to have a family meal with the elders. She would be busy until the afternoon and would likely rest once she returned. The Crown Princess would likely only have time to see them in the evening.

Therefore, Cheng Wanyun cherished the last opportunity to sleep in and called the two children to “sleep together.”

She held Hongxi on her left side, his chubby hands and feet still soft, with arms like lotus stems. He felt incredibly comfortable to touch. On her right, E Linzhu was sleeping in a twisted position, her small feet placed on her arm. E Linzhu, now growing taller, had become thin and long, with slender limbs and less chubby cheeks. She was no longer as squeezable as before.

Wang Cai, as usual, slept at her feet. Whenever there was any movement outside, it would shake its ears and raise its head.

Mi Mi, however, was not around. It had long since woken up and, likely, had already opened the window to sneak out to the kitchen, looking for food and drink. Since it had once followed Sanbao and discovered the kitchen as a treasure trove, it now knew it was a great source of food. Ever since, it had made it a habit to sneak over and nibble on the legs of Eunuch Zheng.

The people in the kitchen knew the origins of this little troublemaker and were more than happy to obey her every whim. If she wanted dried fish, they wouldn’t give her meat or bones. Mi Mi quickly grew rounder, its fur looking as if it was stretched out, like a puffed-up, round, hairy chestnut.

The weather in early May was unpredictable, alternating between cold and hot, making it unsuitable for feeding fish or turtles. The fish and turtles could only be fed every four to five days. Over the years, the fish in her tank had produced a lot of fry, and there was no longer enough room to house them, so many had been released into the South Garden.

As a result, Cheng Wanyun tidied herself and the two children up after breakfast but suddenly found herself unsure of what to do next.

The two little monkeys had long wanted to play on the slide, but Cheng Wanyun didn’t feel like changing their clothes and combing their hair again, so she let them play with building blocks in the room.

E Linzhu pouted, clearly reluctant.

It was then that Bitao, who had been helping out, came to her rescue. She smiled and suggested, “The kitchen sent over a lot of big sweet potatoes! Should we bake them with the Second Prince and the Eldest Miss? There’s still some charcoal left from yesterday’s chicken roast in the oven!”

E Linzhu’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Mother, let’s bake sweet potatoes!”

Cheng Wanyun also became interested. She stood up and rolled up her sleeves. “Alright, have them bring the sweet potatoes over. Today, let’s reminisce about hard times and enjoy the sweet potatoes!”

Although baked sweet potatoes could easily stain clothes, at least there would be no need to comb their hair again. They could simply change their outer clothes. If they went to play in the castle and on the slide, with E Linzhu’s wild way of playing, even their underclothes would get soaked with sweat, and they would probably have to change everything from the inside out.

She had someone bring over the sweet potatoes and let the children choose which ones they wanted to bake. E Linzhu picked the largest and roundest one. “This one is the most beautiful! For Mother!”

Hongxi followed suit, selecting a long oval-shaped one. “This one is as tall as Father! For Father.”

They also chose sweet potatoes for Mi Mi, Wang Cai, Harinauhai, and Hongxuan. E Linzhu didn’t forget to show kindness to Kangxi, “This one’s skin is yellow, it’s for Emperor Grandfather!”

Cheng Wanyun couldn’t help but laugh. In E Linzhu’s eyes, was Kangxi really a yellow, long, skinny sweet potato?

Once the choices were made, E Linzhu excitedly followed the servants to scrape the ash from the stove. Hongxi stood on tiptoe, neatly arranging the sweet potatoes from largest to smallest on the table, and asked Cheng Wanyun, “Mother, what does ‘reminiscing about hardships and savoring sweetness’ mean?”

Cheng Wanyun patted his little head. “Sweet potatoes have saved many people’s lives, so when we eat them, we should think about how hard life was before we had sweet potatoes. That way, we can truly appreciate how hard-won our current life is.”

Hongxi nodded, still a bit confused.

“Mother, the bread oven is already preheated,” Hongxi said.

E Linzhu bounced back, and Cheng Wanyun sighed in frustration as she saw that the new flag costume, made specifically for visiting the Crown Princess, had gotten dust on it. She knew it was a good thing she had made four sets using different patterned silk!

Hongxi ignored his sister and instead pulled on Cheng Wanyun’s sleeve, persistently asking, “Mother, why are the days without sweet potatoes so hard?”

Yinreng silently reached the small courtyard door of the back room. The spring breeze gently rustled the willow branches, and the entire courtyard was filled with the sweet smell of roasted sweet potatoes. A Wan was sitting with the two children, each holding a sweet potato with a crisp, caramelized skin, blowing on it before taking a bite of the soft, warm yellow flesh.

The cat and dog were both lying by their legs, wagging their tails.

It wasn’t at all like what he had imagined—wind and rain, anxious and unsettled, or secretly hoping to catch sight of him.

Yinreng had spent the entire morning with the Crown Princess, touring the Forbidden City, drinking tea, and eating a bland meal. He rushed back, still concerned about A Wan and wondering what her mood might be. As soon as he changed clothes, he couldn’t contain himself and came over to check on her.

The night before the wedding, despite He Baozhong’s tearful pleas to stop, he and A Wan had climbed up to the rooftop of the back room using the ladder that was usually for picking up tiles. They took a small wine flask and a small oil lamp, enjoying the moon and stars together.

That night, only the two of them were there. The moonlight poured down like the Milky Way, falling between their brows. They could clearly see their reflections in each other’s eyes—just the two of them.

A Wan had taken off her makeup, her black hair flowing down without any pins or ornaments, but she still looked small and pale under the moonlight. Yinreng thought that, at that moment, A Wan was stunningly beautiful.

Since the wedding preparations began, Yinreng had never brought it up, and neither had A Wan.

Yinreng knew that he couldn’t offer A Wan much at the moment. Those empty sweet words and comforting speeches didn’t mean much. No matter how much was said, it was better to do something real for her.

Cheng Wanyun’s thoughts were simpler. She felt that she never had extravagant hopes, so there was no need for unnecessary words.

The Crown Prince was walking on the edge of a cliff, with too many things to consider. They were all just fragile clay figures. After all, they would all be confined in the end. What was there to fight for? Cheng Wanyun was at peace, looking after her two children, content to lead a simple life.

So that day, they just lay back and looked at the stars, saying nothing. But in that moment, as they held hands and gazed at the endless starry sky, they understood everything.

The world was silent, as if only the two of them and the vast starry sky remained.

There had been such a moment between them, and that was enough.

After finishing their wine, the night grew late. When they were about to climb down the ladder, Cheng Wanyun hesitated for a moment as she looked down. Then she heard the Crown Prince’s low voice from behind, “Don’t be afraid.”

Cheng Wanyun didn’t turn around, lost in thought.

Perhaps the silence of that night was the Crown Prince’s way of saying just these two words to her.

It turned out that he had always been worried about her, and Cheng Wanyun couldn’t help but feel her heart soften and sink a little.

“I’m not afraid,” she finally turned her head and smiled, tilting her face up, her eyes curved with joy. “Isn’t it because you’re behind me?”

Yinreng relaxed his brow and chuckled softly, replying with a low “Mm.”

In fact, even Yinreng himself needed some time to adjust and accept the fact that he now had another, formally recognized wife. Not just him—everyone in the Yuqing Palace, from top to bottom—was on edge. Everyone was privately speculating and wondering what kind of personality the newly arrived Crown Princess had.

The established order, once suddenly disrupted, requires a long time to be reshaped.

Yinreng was currently in the process of reshaping that order.

So, he hurried over, genuinely worried about Cheng Wanyun’s mood, and also to show the servants—let them know clearly—that even though the Crown Princess had entered the door, he still treated the secondary concubine, Cheng Wanyun, in the rear courtyard differently!

But it was clear that he had overthought it. Cheng Wanyun was naturally cheerful and hadn’t taken it to heart at all! This realization made him feel a little bitter, as he couldn’t help but think that with her carefree attitude, it seemed like he wasn’t that important to her.

For instance, when he walked into the rear courtyard, he overheard Cheng Wanyun, while eating a sweet potato, explaining its history and benefits to the two children in a leisurely manner: “Sweet potatoes didn’t originally come from our China. They were introduced during the Ming Dynasty under Emperor Wanli, from a very distant place. This food can be eaten both raw and cooked, it yields a high harvest, and can be grown anywhere. To bring back the sweet potato seeds, the people of Guangdong, such as Chen Yi, risked their lives in Vietnam and hid the seeds in bronze drums. Meanwhile, Chen Zhenlong from Fujian, along with his son Chen Jinglun, discovered sweet potatoes in the Philippines, ‘entwining the vines with water-drawing ropes,’ and brought them back to Xiamen. This was recorded by Xu Guangqi in the “Complete Book of Agricultural Policies.” Later, when Jiangnan faced droughts and crop failures, Xu Guangqi remembered the sweet potatoes from Fujian and Guangdong, which were a good crop for disaster relief. So, he imported them from Fujian to Shanghai, and then spread them to Jiangsu and other regions, helping many common people survive hardships! That’s why sweet potatoes are so valuable, despite being considered a poor man’s food—they have great merit!”

Hongxi listened attentively. He loved hearing stories like this, and he forgot all about the sweet potato in his hand, imagining himself fleeing at sea with the Chen family, trying to escape from foreign invaders to protect the precious sweet potato seeds.

E Linzhu, however, seemed confused: “But this is the first time I’ve eaten sweet potatoes.”

“Isn’t that what you’re eating now?” Cheng Wanyun didn’t elaborate further. “You don’t get to eat sweet potatoes often in the palace. You see, we’re roasting them now, but you can also cut them into pieces and cook porridge, or slice them into strips and dry them to make sweet potato chips. Isn’t that wonderful? So we should cherish our food, because there are many common people outside who go hungry. Hongxi, you can’t be picky with food from now on, understand?”

Yinreng leaned against the wall, listening. Indeed, sweet potatoes were rare in the palace. They were considered food for the lower class, and eating them could cause flatulence. Even eunuchs and palace maids didn’t dare eat too much, so they gradually disappeared from the palace.

But Cheng Wanyun seemed to be grateful for all food. She didn’t distinguish between food as high or low class; she seemed to blur the lines of rank for people as well. This was something that puzzled him deeply. She seemed to have a natural empathy for the common people, perhaps because she grew up with her father, who was a county magistrate.

After telling the story of sweet potatoes, Cheng Wanyun was pleased to see Hongxi finally nodding and agreeing to eat properly. She clapped the dust off her hands and turned around, only to realize that the Crown Prince had been standing at the door for who knows how long.

“You came here?” Cheng Wanyun instinctively glanced at the time. He had been busy all morning—shouldn’t he be resting with the Crown Princess for lunch? Why did he come here? And, had his old habit of eavesdropping struck again?

E Linzhu and Hongxi were already shouting for their father to come and hug his legs. Yinreng bent down, picked up one child in each arm, and laughed, “What’s this? Can’t I come over?”

Cheng Wanyun wouldn’t dare refuse, quickly instructing Bitao to remove the sweet potatoes and bring some rice rolls and dumplings to fill the Crown Prince’s stomach. She could tell from his expression that he hadn’t eaten enough.

Yinreng shook his head. “I’ll have one sweet potato too.”

Hongxi immediately presented his “treasure”: “Father’s sweet potato is tall! I picked it for you! It’s the one—”

“Hongxi is the most filial,” Yinreng smiled, patting his little head.

As he ate the sweet potato, his thoughts were elsewhere.

In the eyes of the Emperor, and in the eyes of the world, the Manchus were noble, and the Han Chinese were lowly, so naturally, Cheng Wanyun was seen as someone of low status as well. But in his eyes, Cheng Wanyun was understanding, cheerful, and dedicated in her companionship, raising children for him… she was the sweet potato that had nourished him through countless lives.

Yinreng peeled the sweet potato skin and took a gentle bite.

What of dragon liver and phoenix gallbladder? He didn’t care for them. He just wanted to eat sweet potatoes.

—

In the main hall’s Eastern Warm Pavilion, the Crown Princess, Lady Shi, was sitting in front of the mirror, removing her headdress. The room was filled with decorative red characters of joy, red silk draped across the head of the bed, and the bedding and pillows were all made of bright red fabric, embroidered with phoenixes and mandarin ducks. As she gazed at the sea of red, she felt somewhat unaccustomed.

“Lady Shi, would you like some tea?”

A strong, straight-backed woman entered, holding a tea bowl, speaking with a distinct Minnan accent.

This was the famous Minnan dialect.

“Set it down for now,” the Crown Princess said. The fragrance of the tea was unmistakable—it was Narcissus tea, which she had brought into the palace. In the capital, most people drank jasmine tea or puerh, usually steeping a large pot to drink throughout the day. But she had grown up in Fuzhou, Xiamen, and other places, where tea drinking was an art, and she had never gotten used to the capital’s style. Thus, when she entered the palace, her dowry even included two boxes of tea leaves and a box of her familiar tea sets.

Aside from the tea, as Crown Princess, she had the right to bring trusted attendants into the palace. Therefore, everyone around her had come from Fuzhou. This woman had originally been her mother’s maid, and she had been with her since her mother passed away. Her name was Li Mama. Li Mama had been independent in her youth, and after her mother’s death, she had continued to serve the Crown Princess.

Li Mama wasn’t accustomed to the palace eunuchs. When she entered, she shut the door behind her. Inside the room, it was just her and the Crown Princess. She then switched to speaking in Minnan dialect and said to the Crown Princess, “I just heard from some eunuch who came secretly and delivered a message, saying that the Crown Prince has gone to visit the secondary concubine, Cheng.”

They had just arrived, and the specialized people were already coming over to offer their loyalty.

Lady Shi sneered. “Where is he?”

“Locked in the woodshed, being questioned. They’re trying to figure out which side he’s from.”

Lady Shi nodded, replying in Minnan, “I’ve heard of Cheng, the secondary concubine, being favored. But our priority isn’t to clash with the Crown Prince’s concubines. We need to establish ourselves firmly in Yuqing Palace first. Li Mama, tell Lian Nu and Hua Ji to spread the word. I want to meet with the managers of each courtyard this afternoon. The secondary concubine and other geges can be seen tomorrow. I also want the full list of names from Yuqing Palace so they can familiarize themselves with the layout while delivering the message. It’s just like when we used to go out to sea with my father to fight the pirates—we need to first chart the course, then survey the terrain. We mustn’t act recklessly.”

“Yes!” Li Mama instinctively stood up straight.

The Japanese pirates ravaged the coastlines of Fujian, which were long and prone to frequent invasions. Sometimes, the pirates only needed a few small boats to land under the cover of night and carry out plunder and destruction. On the most dangerous occasion, the pirates even attacked government offices! Shi Wenbing led his sons and soldiers to fight back, while Shi, as the eldest daughter, wielded the red-tassel spear and fought alongside her mother. She also helped defend the city with local villagers and family servants.

She was accustomed to the blood and chaos of battle. As a result, there were never any musical instruments or games in her house, only a shelf of military books, maps, and a red-tassel spear.

Now, that long spear stood beside her desk, ready to be grabbed at any moment. The red tassel had faded with time, and the area where it was held had worn away the paint, becoming old and weathered. Only the sharp point of the spear still gleamed with a cold light.

Was it so difficult to be a Crown Princess? Shi finally removed the heavy headdress and casually gathered her hair into a neat high bun, revealing her sharp, determined brows and eyes.

Surely, it couldn’t be harder than fighting the Japanese pirates.