Concubine of the Eastern Palace (Qing Dynasty Time Travel)

At the end of April in the 32nd year of Kangxi’s reign, the sky was as clear as blue water, vegetation thrived, and the mountains were green, with blossoms seemingly ready to ignite.

Tianjin sprinted wildly, his face flushed red and his breath labored. He paid no attention to the stunning late spring scenery around him as he dashed through the Imperial Garden, heading straight for Qianqing Palace. He had just visited the study room, where the cleaning eunuch had told him that the Crown Prince was leading a group of princes to Qianqing Palace.

So, he immediately turned around and ran again.

When he arrived outside the Qianqing Palace, he anxiously paced around Li Dequan, who was waiting outside, desperate and frantic. “Eunuch Li, when will this be over? Our Lady Cheng has already been in labor for an hour, and the Crown Prince doesn’t know anything yet! Please, do me a favor and report this…”

“His Majesty is inside losing his temper right now,” Li Dequan replied, glancing back at the tightly shut doors and windows of the Western Warm Pavilion. He then lowered his voice to Tianjin. “At this moment, I wouldn’t dare step inside to risk His Majesty’s wrath. Just wait a little longer!”

Tianjin was so anxious he could climb the walls. He pleaded repeatedly, “Eunuch Li, how can the matter of childbirth wait? Please make an exception—”

Although everything in the Yuqing Palace was well-arranged, with the imperial physicians present and Tang Gege assisting outside, who could guarantee that childbirth would proceed smoothly? What if there were complications? What would they do then?

Li Dequan was helpless as well. “It’s just bad timing!”

There had been such an uproar in the study room earlier. The Crown Prince had hoped to lightly discipline the matter and let it go, even covering for his younger brothers. However, the study room tutor had already gone to report the incident to the Emperor. Now, even the Crown Prince was being reprimanded inside. The Emperor’s expression was as dark as the bottom of a pot. From the depths of his heart, Li Dequan felt that no matter if hailstones or knives fell from the sky, he dared not enter.

—

Inside Qianqing Palace.

Princes Nine, Ten, Twelve, Thirteen, and Fourteen knelt neatly in a row.

Yinreng stood helplessly to the side, his hands hanging down, accompanied by a small Mongolian black dog with a bruised and swollen face.

“Wonderful… just wonderful…” Kangxi was so furious he could hardly speak. He trembled as he pointed at each of them one by one. Every time his finger landed on someone, they instinctively shrank back, lowering their heads even further.

Only Yinxiang, feeling deeply humiliated, tilted his head back in defiance, a wad of crumpled paper stuffed in his nose—he had been beaten so badly that he got a nosebleed.

After a long pause, Kangxi finally sat down on the heated platform and took a sip of tea. Then, in a stern voice, he demanded, “Who will explain this to me?!”

Yinreng, seeing his younger brothers trembling like frightened quails as they knelt there, felt a twinge of pity. He stepped forward, bowed deeply, and said, “Imperial Father, it’s like this—”

“I don’t need you to speak!” Kangxi slammed the teacup down heavily, roaring in anger, “Don’t they all have mouths of their own? Do you have to cover for them and sugarcoat the truth? Each person should take responsibility for their actions! If they’ve done it, are they now too cowardly to admit it? Do they all want to hide like turtles? Speak for yourselves!”

Yinreng had no choice but to step back to his original position.

Yinxiang, being straightforward by nature, couldn’t stand being provoked like that. He immediately pulled the wad of paper out of his nose and prepared to speak—

Suddenly, Yinsi nudged his elbow into his arm, dispersing his anger. The youngest, but the most cunning, Yinsi crawled on his knees to Kangxi, tugging on his robe and saying, “Imperial Father… we were wrong. Please don’t be angry…”

Kangxi glanced down at him.

Yinsi quickly turned back and signaled to Yintang, who immediately crawled over and hugged Kangxi’s leg. “Imperial Father, you can’t blame us entirely for this. Let me explain—it’s all Harinauhai’s fault! He provoked the Thirteenth Brother first! He’s the one who’s lazy and unmotivated, soaking his book basket in the pond. Thirteenth Brother kindly retrieved it for him, only for Harinauhai to throw it back at his face! Isn’t that infuriating? Thirteenth Brother has a fiery temper, how could he endure that? Naturally, it escalated… And since we’re all brothers, siding with Thirteenth Brother more is only natural.”

Yinreng frowned deeply. Ninth Brother dared to twist the truth like this… did he think Imperial Father knew nothing? Kangxi had likely already investigated the matter thoroughly. His questioning was a test, offering them a chance to admit their mistakes and salvage their situation.

Harinauhai could hardly be expected to understand the ‘Analects of Confucius’. He came from the impoverished Zunghar region, born and raised on the grasslands. Even after half a year in the capital, his Mandarin was poor, and he likely couldn’t read many Han or Manchu characters. How could they so easily label him lazy and unmotivated?

After scolding his younger brothers, Yinreng had gone to question the eunuchs managing the study room. Frightened, the servants knelt and spilled every detail about the mischief these boys had caused behind the scenes.

When the older princes began taking assignments, the study room had effectively become their domain. Then came the arrival of the Mongolian prince, reserved and unapproachable, who didn’t win their favor but excelled in horseback riding and archery. Naturally, he became the target of their schemes.

They threw out his book basket, broke the legs of his desk, and even put dead locusts in his lunchbox.

Harinauhai, however, was not the type to silently endure. Though he initially bit his tongue after someone instigated him, his Mongolian bodyguards had been quietly watching for days. Eventually, they identified the main culprit—Thirteenth Brother.

That led to today’s incident.

To his credit, Harinauhai was forthright. In front of everyone, he confronted Thirteenth Brother and challenged him to a proper contest. If Thirteenth Brother lost, he would have to kneel and apologize. If Harinauhai lost, he promised to pack his things and return to Mongolia.

Yinreng doubted that the mischief was really Thirteenth Brother’s doing. Yinxiang was honest and kind by nature, unlikely to resort to such underhanded tactics. If he disliked Harinauhai, he would probably have confronted him openly.

These despicable tricks had the hallmarks of Ninth and Fourteenth Brothers. Both had been mischievous from a young age, spoiled as the youngest sons of their mother. It was hard to tell how they orchestrated this scheme, but they had made Thirteenth Brother take the blame.

As Yinreng pondered this, he instinctively glanced at the child standing stiffly by his side.

He wore a dark black Mongolian robe with cloud-patterned embroidery, newly made after his arrival at the palace, paired with lambskin boots. His hair was braided into strands that hung down his back, adorned with coral and gemstones at the tips. His facial features were naturally sharp and dignified, with an air of noble refinement uncommon for someone so young—a bearing befitting the descendant of royalty.

Although his robe’s gold thread had come undone, the coral and gemstones in his braids were missing, and he sported a black eye and a split lip, leaving him looking utterly disheveled, he still appeared more composed than the younger brothers kneeling on the ground.

It seemed Kangxi was thinking the same as Yinreng. After hearing Yintang’s explanation, Kangxi let out a cold snort, lowering his head to fix him with a dangerously piercing gaze. The icy tone in his voice seeped through clenched teeth:
“Ninth Brother, I’ll give you one more chance. You’d better confess honestly what truly happened. Otherwise, I’ll invoke the family law to deal with you.”

“I despise liars the most. Ninth Brother, think carefully.”

Yintang froze, exchanging a nervous glance with Yinsi. Then he cast a pleading look at Yinreng, who shook his head. Terrified by their father’s authority and the prospect of being punished under the family law with the rattan cane, the two instigators stammered out the truth. They admitted to throwing Harinauhai’s newly issued books into the pond while he was away and tricking Thirteenth Brother into retrieving them. This led the Mongolian guards, who didn’t understand the language, to mistakenly believe that Thirteenth Brother had thrown the books in the first place.

Kangxi, overwhelmed with rage, felt like kicking the two troublemakers out of the room. He stood up with a dark expression, searching for something to use as a stick to punish them.

Yinreng quickly stepped forward to stop him, soothing him while trying to calm him down:
“They’re still young, and some mischief is expected.”
“Imperial Father, don’t damage your health by getting so angry. Your son has already scolded them.”
“Someone, bring another cup of hot tea!”

He also gave his two younger brothers a signal to run away quickly.

True to their nature, Yintang and Yinsi bolted out of the room like rabbits, dashing toward their mother’s palace.

“Enough! They’ve already run off. Why are you still stopping me?” Kangxi, blocked by Yinreng at every turn, had lost most of his anger by now. Pointing at Yinreng, he scolded:
“It’s all your fault as their elder brother! I entrusted their upbringing to you, and look what you’ve done! You’ve been too lenient with them, and now look at the trouble they’ve caused. You’ve spoiled them!”

Yinreng, knowing Kangxi needed someone to vent his anger on, smiled and accepted the blame:
“Yes, it’s all my fault. I’ll make them copy books as punishment—two hundred times each! And I’ll forbid them from eating for three days to teach them a lesson!”

Kangxi glared at him. “Do you think copying books is enough? Bring someone here! Issue my decree: Ninth Brother and Fourteenth Brother are to kneel in front of the ancestral tablets in the Hall of Ancestors for reflection. Without my order, no one is allowed to visit them!”

Hearing this, Yinreng finally let go of Kangxi.

As long as no physical punishment was involved, kneeling for a few days in the Hall of Ancestors wasn’t too serious.

Kangxi then summoned Harinauhai. Looking at his disheveled state, he sighed, smoothed out his wrinkled robe, and comforted him in Mongolian, patting him gently on the shoulder.
“You’re a good child. It’s my failure to properly teach my sons that caused you to suffer this injustice. Later, I’ll have the Crown Prince take you to clean up, apply medicine, and get some rest.”

This child was a vital link in the friendly relations between Tsewang Araptan and the Qing dynasty. Kangxi didn’t want any resentment to take root in his heart. If word of Harinauhai’s treatment in the palace reached the ears of Tsewang Araptan through the Mongolian guards, it could lead to serious trouble.

This was why Kangxi ordered the Crown Prince to personally escort Harinauhai back.

“Rest assured, Imperial Father,” Yinreng understood Kangxi’s intentions and bowed to accept the decree. When he stepped out, he found Tianjin waiting anxiously at the door.

“Your Highness, Lady Cheng has already gone into labor…”

“He Baozhong! Prepare the carriage immediately!” Yinreng’s heart leaped. In his urgency, he caught sight of the disheveled, slightly dazed Mongolian boy. Initially, he had planned to personally escort him back to the princes’ quarters and reprimand all the attendants there. But now, there was no time for that…

Without overthinking, Yinreng pulled the boy onto his sedan chair and told him in Mongolian, “You’ll come with me to Yuqing Palace for now.”

Harinauhai, though confused, nodded. He had just learned that the emperor had placed him under the Crown Prince’s care, and besides… he was hungry.

Yinreng wished he could sprout wings and fly back to Yuqing Palace. When the sedan chair reached the palace gate, he almost broke into a run.

He Baozhong had planned to carry the Mongolian prince himself, but the boy nimbly jumped off the sedan chair and sprinted after the Crown Prince. This left He Baozhong—now back to weighing 200 pounds—huffing and puffing like a charging elephant as he struggled to keep up.

As soon as Yinreng entered the inner chamber, he heard a loud, healthy cry. His heart instantly eased, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he remembered to breathe. Leaning against the doorframe, he took a deep, calming breath before steadying himself to walk to the birthing room.

Moments later, the midwife came out holding a swaddled baby. She knelt with a beaming smile and announced, “Congratulations, Your Highness! The Side Concubine has given you a healthy son, weighing a full seven pounds.”

“Good! Excellent!” Yinreng exclaimed, taking the baby into his arms. The child was indeed chubbier than E Linzhu had been at birth, with delicate, handsome features. “Wonderful. How is Lady Cheng?”

“The Side Concubine had an exceptionally smooth delivery and is still in good spirits!”

Yinreng wanted to check on Lady Cheng, but the midwife advised that the room needed to be cleaned first before he could enter. In the meantime, he ordered attendants to take Harinauhai to be treated for his injuries, change his clothes, and prepare a room for him to rest.

Then, Yinreng stood by the door, waiting.

This wasn’t his first time becoming a father, yet each time he found himself filled with nervous anticipation and excitement.

Inside the birthing room, Cheng Wanyun was being tended to by Qingxing, who was gently wiping her body and sweat. She had already changed into a fresh set of clothes, and the damp bedding beneath her had been replaced by clean, dry sheets. Just then, Bitao appeared from behind the screen, carrying a bowl of steaming hot brown sugar and egg soup.

Cheng Wanyun lit up with surprise and joy upon seeing her. “You’re here? Are you fully recovered?”

“Thank you for your concern, Mistress. I’m all better now,” Bitao replied with a cheerful smile as she sat down beside her. “Today is such an important day for you, Mistress. Even if I had to crawl, I wouldn’t miss serving you. Besides, I’m fully recovered now, so how could I slack off?”

“You should have rested for a few more days,” Cheng Wanyun scolded gently, holding her hand. “Let me take a look at you. You’ve definitely lost weight. Have you still been experiencing headaches or nausea? The imperial physician said you had a blood clot at the back of your head that needs time to dissolve.”

“Please don’t worry, Mistress. I’m fully healed now. With all the kindness you and the Crown Prince have shown me—feeding me ginseng and bird’s nest daily—I feel so strong I could take on a tiger,” Bitao joked.

Her words made Qingxing chuckle, and she joined in, teasing, “Mistress, she’s telling the truth. Just last night, when I was sleeping beside her, she almost kicked me off the bed!”

Hearing this, Cheng Wanyun finally relaxed. She instructed Qingxing to lend Bitao a hand more often and not let her do any heavy work for now.

As the three of them chatted, the Crown Prince entered the room.

Qingxing, knowing that the Crown Prince preferred privacy when speaking, quickly led Bitao out after bowing.

“That was Bitao just now, wasn’t it? She’s back and fully recovered?” Yinreng asked as he approached and took a seat beside Cheng Wanyun. Then his gaze turned to her, scanning her from head to toe with concern. “How are you feeling now? Is there any discomfort?”

“Yes, that was Bitao. She’s finally recovered, and now I can stop worrying about her,” Cheng Wanyun replied with a smile. She shook her head lightly and added, “I’m perfectly fine. This time, it was quicker and smoother than when I had E Linzhu. I didn’t suffer much.”

“That’s good. Seems like this little one knows how to care for his mother,” Yinreng said, clearly relieved. “He must repay you well in the future.”

The memory of E Linzhu’s birth, which took the entire night, still lingered in their minds. This time, from the onset of labor to delivery, it had taken only four hours. Though painful, the shorter duration had made it easier for Cheng Wanyun to endure. As a result, she now felt energetic enough to sit and chat with Yinreng without any sign of fatigue.

“That’s a relief. When I heard you had gone into labor as I was leaving Father’s audience, I was terrified,” Yinreng admitted. He couldn’t even recall what had gone through his mind during the frantic journey from Qianqing Palace to Yuqing Palace—only that he had imagined every possible complication, scaring himself pale in the process. He gave the newborn a playful yet serious scolding. “This little one is so impatient! He came more than half a month early. Fortunately, both you and the child are healthy.”

Cheng Wanyun couldn’t help but laugh. “The imperial physicians said that a delivery within two weeks of the due date is still considered normal and not a premature birth.”

In ancient times, without modern medical technology like ultrasounds or fetal heart monitors, due dates were often imprecise. Even today, with advanced techniques, predicting the exact day of delivery is difficult. When Erlinzhu was born, he had been a few days late, and this time, the new baby arrived half a month early. Some people believed boys were born earlier and girls later, but such notions were just old wives’ tales with no scientific basis.

“Akedun is almost four now. We can take this opportunity to ask Father to give them both names,” Yinreng suggested. “Do you have any favorite characters? I can include them in the list for Father to review. If he chooses one, wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

“You should handle that, Your Highness. I’m terrible at picking names…” Cheng Wanyun shook her head, smiling. Apart from the name “Hongxi,” she could barely remember what the Crown Prince’s other sons were called. It was amusing to her that she could recall all of Fourth Prince’s sons’ names instead—proof of how history favored the victors. The defeated rarely earned special mentions in the annals of time.

Yinreng’s thoughts suddenly flashed to “Mi Mi” and “Wang Cai,” and his expression stiffened. How could he have forgotten about that incident!

It was indeed a mistake to let Awang pick a name!

Thus, Yinreng quickly retracted his earlier statement: “You’re right; it’s better if Father and I handle the naming.”

Cheng Wanyun: “…” Did he have to be so obvious about it?

Just then, the wet nurse brought the second prince in after he had been fed. His chubby little hands were clenched into tiny fists, resting obediently on his round belly as he dozed off in a satisfied sleep. Cheng Wanyun instructed the wet nurse to place him beside her and gently stroked his still slightly damp hair. She gazed at him lovingly, unable to look away.

Yinreng, seated nearby, watched mother and child with tender eyes.

The room was filled with a warm, peaceful atmosphere.

Outside, Harinauhai was being led to a small room where palace maids applied ointment to his wounds and prepared hot water for him to bathe.

He sat soaking in a large wooden tub scattered with flower petals as a palace maid gently wiped his back. Suddenly, he heard clear, cheerful laughter from the courtyard, followed by a boy’s worried voice: “Be careful, little sister!”

“pigeon… pigeon… Come here!” called a young girl.

Harinauhai, having learned some basic Chinese, initially thought the boy and girl must be the Crown Prince’s children. However, when he heard the girl call out “pigeon,” he wondered if the eunuch serving her might be named pigeon.

Eunuchs were a new concept to Harinauhai. Growing up on the grasslands, he had never encountered such people. His trip to the capital had been an eye-opening experience—not only because of the eunuchs but also because of the grandeur of the Forbidden City and the luxury of the royal family.

Even as the son of a khan in the northern steppes, his upbringing was far simpler. He only had a few female servants to care for him, and they also handled other tasks like cleaning wool, washing clothes, fetching water, or cooking barley cakes. Sometimes, they had to carry him on their backs over long distances to find a water source.

In contrast, the “female servants” in the palace were all impeccably dressed, especially the senior maids and wet nurses attending to the princes. Their hands were smooth, without a trace of calluses, and they never seemed to perform any rough labor—those tasks were delegated to an entirely separate group of workers.

Harinauhai had secretly taken note of the setup. Each prince was typically accompanied by eight eunuchs and four senior maids who didn’t perform manual labor. In addition, there were at least 20 or 30 other eunuchs and maids handling all the tasks for them. Furthermore, each prince was assigned two wet nurses, solely for feeding them!

This was another revelation that left Harinauhai stunned. He had once seen the youngest prince, who was about his age and called the Fourteenth Prince. When the prince took a nap in the study hall and woke up, he went straight to a wet nurse’s arms for milk.

Everyone around seemed to find this completely normal.

Harinauhai, on the other hand, had been weaned at one year old and raised on cow and goat milk. He didn’t have a personal wet nurse; his mother, aunts, or cousins would take turns feeding him.

He carefully counted and calculated, eventually concluding that it took over 40 people to serve a single prince in the palace!

This realization was hard for him to believe. To confirm, he counted again the next day.

He had always been good at counting cows and sheep, so he was confident he hadn’t made a mistake—there really were that many people!

To think, even his ‘Eqige’ (father) and ‘Ehe’ (mother) didn’t have nearly as many attendants. Especially now, with their tribe at war with Galdan, many men had died, and a lot of their cattle and sheep had been taken.

Sitting in the fragrant, warm bathwater, Harinauhai thought of the female servants who used to carry him around while tirelessly working, and he began to feel homesick.

After the bath, the palace maid brought him a brand-new set of clothes, knelt to help him dress, and then led him out for a meal.

He wasn’t used to the steamed dishes in the palace, but the maid’s soft and warm hands reminded him of his mother’s touch, so he obediently followed her.

When he first arrived, the palace courtyard had been bustling with activity, leaving him no time to observe his surroundings. Now that he was outside, he noticed the vibrant, lively atmosphere. A gentle spring breeze carried the fragrance of flowers and grass. He saw a sharp-roofed wooden structure (a playhouse) attached to a peculiar-looking bridge, which in turn connected to a steep slope (a slide). At the bottom of the slope was a pool filled with colorful beans!

Suddenly, a small round head poked out of the wooden house’s rabbit-shaped window. The head had big almond-shaped eyes that curved into crescent moons, and two little buns tied neatly on top. The window frame seemed perfectly sized for the head, fitting snugly, as if it had been measured.

To Harinauhai, it looked like a little white rabbit with long ears had popped out of nowhere.

E Linzhu, the little princess, was startled to see this unfamiliar boy. Tilting her head, she asked, “Qingxing Auntie… who is this?”

“This is Harinauhai, the young heir of Tseren Taiji of the Mongolian Zunghar tribe,” Qingxing said with a smile, leading Harinauhai to the slide. “Big Princess, you should call him Brother Harinauhai.”

E Linzhu didn’t know who Tseren Taiji was, but she could tell this boy looked about the same age as her brother Akedun, which meant he could play with her! E Linzhu rarely had playmates; even the youngest eunuchs were much older than her. Akedun, her brother, had grown up with her but had become too boring to play with anymore.

“Nazha-naohai… pigeon!” E Linzhu greeted him warmly, completely unaware she had mispronounced his name. She leaned against the window and called out, “Come up and play! Play with E Linzhu!”

Harinauhai frowned and corrected her in his halting Manchu: “My name is Harinauhai—not Nazha-naohai, and definitely not pigeon.”

“Climb in here! Come through this hole, Nazha!” E Linzhu, who was almost two years old, could speak quite clearly, except when it came to complicated names or calling people “Brother.”

Harinauhai: “…” She’s really calling me Nazha now?! Who even is Nazha?

Before he could figure it out, an impatient E Linzhu had already pulled him into the playhouse. He then realized that the inside was a completely different world! The exterior was adorned with colorful paintings, but the interior was just as intricate, with illustrations of various animals, flowers, and trees.

Harinauhai was stunned by the sight.

Seeing his reaction, Qingxing suppressed a laugh from outside. “Young Master, stay here and play with the Princess for a while. It’s cooler out here, so I’ll go set up the dining table for you nearby.”

It was all because the mistress had read the bedtime story ‘Nazha Conquers the Sea’ to the princess the night before, which had obviously caused the mix-up!

Under the guidance of E Linzhu, who was three or four years younger than him, Harinauhai played to his heart’s content. He had never played like this in his entire life. Back on the grasslands, where would he have encountered such toys? The female servant, a captured Han woman, would teach him to play the flute in her spare time, weave little baskets out of grass roots, fill them with colorful stones found in the river, or teach him how to play games with pebbles.

The rest of his life revolved around horseback riding, archery, wrestling, horse racing, and herding cattle and sheep. Before coming to the palace, his father had even called upon an experienced falconer to teach him how to train a hawk. The idea was to tame a bird of prey that would belong solely to him. However, before he could complete his training, he had been brought to the capital by the emperor.

Now, it felt as if he had entered an entirely different world.

When Qingxing set up a table full of dinner, Harinauhai’s eyes widened, realizing just how little he truly understood this new world.

It wasn’t that the food in the palace wasn’t delicious—it was just that he had never eaten anything so good before.