Concubine of the Eastern Palace (Qing Dynasty Time Travel)

The letter was dated June 15, the same day that Suoetu and Mingzhu’s party arrived in Nibu Chu.

As in her dreams, the envoy from Golovin had not yet arrived.

The difference was, on the day they arrived in Nibu Chu, Mingzhu led Suoetu and the others in disguising themselves as merchants and secretly entered the city. They mingled with the local people and struck up conversations.

The residents of Nibu Chu and the nearby Yakesa region were mostly Buryat and Vankot people, who lived under the Tsar’s rule. However, due to the invasion of Khalkha by Galdan, a large number of the Khalkha people had migrated southward. By now, there were approximately seven or eight hundred exiled Mongols living inside and outside Nibu Chu.

While Suoetu and Zhang Cheng were out inspecting the terrain around the city, Mingzhu leisurely strolled through the city center.

The city was filled with low, dilapidated buildings. The common people were all gaunt and emaciated, wearing ragged clothes. Occasionally, one could see a horse-drawn cart rushing into large, red brick buildings with domed roofs that rose like tall, pointed towers. These buildings were surrounded by high eight-meter walls with tight security.

Mingzhu thought they must be the estates of some noble or royal family, but Xu Risheng translated, “Those are the monasteries and churches.”

Looking at the towering bell towers, Mingzhu asked thoughtfully, “Xu Risheng, what kind of country is Tsarist Russia?”

“Currently, the king of Tsarist Russia is Peter I. They are devout Eastern Orthodox Christians. The monasteries and churches own most of the land, estates, and serfs in the country, as well as the administrative offices of the monasteries…”

Mingzhu asked in surprise, “Administrative offices?”

Xu Risheng nodded. “Dear Prime Minister, in Tsarist Russia, nobles, large landowners, monasteries, and churches own vast hereditary estates. They have absolute ownership over the common people living in their territories, and they can judge, whip, and torture the peasants at will, treating them like cattle or sheep. These serfs are not allowed to leave the lord’s land. No matter how long they’ve been on the run, they will be hunted down along with their families.”

At first, Mingzhu didn’t think much of it. Wasn’t this just like the bannered serfs or slaves? But what Xu Risheng described next made him feel that the Tsar was truly too cruel.

Ordinary commoners not only had to bear heavy taxes and various unpaid labor duties, but the lords also had the right to interfere in their property and marriages. Even the debts of the lords had to be repaid by the peasants, and the common people’s lives and property were entirely tied to the lord.

This was different from the bannered serfs of the Qing Dynasty; these were proper common folk, weren’t they?

“The common people of Tsarist Russia… don’t they ever rebel?” Mingzhu remarked. “The temper of the people here is too mild, isn’t it? If they were from the Central Plains, they would have long since thrown their hoes aside and gathered the villagers to rise up, just like Zhu Yuanzhang, who overthrew the Yuan Dynasty three hundred years ago and founded the Ming Empire.”

“They do rebel, but they are always suppressed,” Xu Risheng replied, then went on to describe several large-scale serf uprisings. As Mingzhu listened, he glanced at a woman not far away, leading her emaciated children to beg along the street. Beside her, a group of soldiers was hurriedly dragging a long chain of slaves heading westward, kicking up yellow dust, with hundreds of supply carts following behind.

“Is this conscription?” Mingzhu immediately instructed Xu Risheng to inquire about the situation. After a short while, Xu Risheng returned with confirmation that the local lord had received a summons from the Tsar and was preparing to lead his knights and slaves westward to fight in a war.

With so many supply carts, it could only mean one thing… The battlefield was far away. A war was breaking out in some distant place so remote that even the lord of Nibu Chu was being called up. Mingzhu lightly opened his folding fan and waved it thoughtfully. Perhaps this was the real reason the Tsar had no choice but to seek peace with our Great Qing? They must have been involved in a great war in the west with other nations and could no longer afford to continue being enemies with the Qing.

If the western front of Tsarist Russia falls into war, what would happen if the border residents of Nibu Chu and the exiled Mongols learn that the Qing court has stationed troops across the river and could help them escape the brutal rule of the Tsar? How would these people, who have suffered so much torment and hardship, respond?

Once a rebellion breaks out in Nibu Chu, would the Tsar still have the mind to bargain with the Qing?

Whatever terms the Qing offers, they would have to accept.

Even though it was already summer, Nibu Chu remained cool, with a gentle breeze blowing, ruffling the crisp, neatly washed blue robe of Mingzhu. He smiled faintly, raised his hand, and knocked on Xu Risheng, who was still speaking nonstop: “Let’s go. It’s time to return.”

Once this move is made, the situation will flip!

Yinreng, upon reading this part of the letter, couldn’t help but praise it!

He nearly jumped up in excitement, but as he got to his feet, he bumped into the bedframe. With a slight grunt, he sat back down, which startled Cheng Wanyun, who had been quietly focusing on her embroidery at the other side of the room. However, seeing the prince once again fully absorbed in reading, she simply shook her head and continued with her work.

She could clearly see that the wax seal on the letter was stamped with the Prince’s private seal, and this letter was from someone who could take the Prince’s personal seal to him. It was better for her to neither read nor listen.

Yinreng’s eyes sparkled as he read through the letter, feeling increasingly grateful that he had advised the Emperor to send Mingzhu to join the peace talks—it truly was a good thing for both the country and the people!

In that dream, Suoetu had arrived in Yaksa and first surveyed the city defenses and terrain, preparing in advance for military deployments in case the peace talks failed. But he had never paid attention to the city’s residents or the Mongol herders fleeing from the Khalkha tribes.

During the difficult sixteen days of negotiations in the dream, the Envoy pressed hard, leaving no room for concessions. Suoetu, trapped in a passive position, was forced to give way again and again, and even had to send Xu Risheng to suggest a boundary at the Ge’erbiqi River near the Shileka River. Yet, Golovin still refused to abandon Yaksa, and the talks ended in disappointment.

This was all because even the Envoy could see that Suoetu was not a shrewd negotiator.

Suoetu had nearly prepared for war, but unexpectedly, the spark that led to the peace talks was the rebellion of the Nibu Chu border residents and the exiled Mongols. Tired of their current situation, they united and launched an attack on Nibu Chu, hoping to defect to the Qing and join forces with the Qing navy to take the city.

At this point, Golovin could no longer remain calm, because, as Mingzhu had speculated, Tsarist Russia was already embroiled in war with the Ottoman Empire over the Black Sea ports and had no time to focus on the East. If they truly went to war with the Qing, Golovin would have completely ruined his mission and could not escape death upon his return!

Thus, in the dream, Golovin, terrified, sent envoys overnight to invite Suoetu to resume negotiations. This time, they hastily agreed to the Qing court’s final boundary proposal, not daring to make any further demands.

But for the Qing, this was the worst of the best news.

Although peace talks were achieved, they failed to reclaim the territory that the Qing rightfully deserved, forever losing a large portion of its land. Yinreng did not dream of how the Emperor punished his uncle, but he did see the Emperor’s suppressed anger and disappointment. Even though he tolerated the mistake for the sake of his mother and himself, such a grave error would certainly diminish his uncle’s standing in the Emperor’s eyes, making him far less important than Mingzhu from then on.

Now, in the letter from Ling Shijin, Mingzhu had already begun secretly contacting the exiled Mongols and the common people of Nibu Chu. Before the Envoy’s arrival, a vast network had already been slowly laid out.

Yinreng exhaled deeply, got up, slipped on his shoes, and walked to the desk. He held the letter over the candle, watching as the flames gradually turned it to ash.

Once it was burnt, he turned around and hugged Cheng Wanyun from behind.

“Hmm?” Cheng Wanyun was about to bite her thread and almost ended up biting her tongue. “Your Highness?”

“I’m so happy,” came the muffled voice from behind, a large head resting on her neck, his warm breath brushing against her skin. “A Wan, I can’t tell you, but I’m really so happy.”

Cheng Wanyun smiled. “Since you’re so happy, and since the night is long and you can’t sleep, how about we get up and have some barbecue?”

“Hmm?” This time, it was Yinreng who was momentarily stunned. “Now?”

“The moonlight is nice tonight. Let’s grill some eggplant and leeks, and drink some lychee wine. Doesn’t that sound good?”

It did sound good.

One couldn’t sleep because of excitement, and the other, tired of drinking porridge, wanted something else to eat.

So the two of them quickly agreed, got dressed quietly, and called for He Baozhong, who had been dozing off in the outer room. Before long, the yellow gauze lanterns in the back courtyard were lit again. Qingxing went to the kitchen to fetch the meat and vegetables, and fortunately, Eunuch Zheng was accustomed to leaving the stove lit, so he quickly picked out some glowing red coals. The young eunuchs skewered the meat, cutting it into pieces the size of a thumb, and before long, they had prepared about thirty skewers.

As for the garlic eggplant that Cheng Wanyun had ordered, Eunuch Zheng had never made it before. Qingxing said that the princess would do it herself, so she prepared the garlic and various seasonings and led the way to the back courtyard.

The courtyard was already set up with a barbecue grill. The Qing people were skilled at grilling, mostly beef, lamb, and venison, but this was the first time they were preparing vegetarian dishes like Cheng Wanyun’s grilled vegetables.

Cheng Wanyun rolled up her sleeves, slicing the fresh eggplants in half and scoring the flesh with a crisscross pattern. Eunuch Zheng had already prepared the green onions, hot peppers, fried garlic, and chili paste, bowing slightly and observing intently as he learned.

This was the first time Yinreng had seen ingredients that hadn’t yet been prepared. He stood behind her, hands clasped behind his back, watching with great interest.

Cheng Wanyun brushed oil on the eggplant and placed it on the grill, cooking it until it turned a deep brown. The tender, long eggplants cracked open under the intense heat of the red-hot coals. Seizing the opportunity, she quickly spread a thick layer of fragrant garlic, hot peppers, and chili paste on top. Her movements were swift and skilled, and Yinreng couldn’t help but ask, “Do you often cook at home?”

“My Prince, my father is only a low-ranking official, a seventh-grade clerk. The kitchen staff at home were all temporary workers,” Cheng Wanyun looked up and smiled amid the smoke. “If I wanted to eat something extra, I naturally had to make it myself.”

When the eggplant was cooked to the point where the garlic on top began to release a bit of oil, Cheng Wanyun sprinkled some cumin powder on top. The entire courtyard was filled with the rich fragrance of fried garlic. She had grilled four pieces in total, and she picked out the largest one, which had a bright golden hue, and handed it to the Prince. “Your Highness, please try it. My younger siblings used to pester me to make this all the time. It’s their favorite.”

Yinreng had never experienced eating like this before—without a full banquet table and attendants serving him. Instead, there was just a small stool, a low table, and before him, a grill with smoke rising and sparks flying. The moon hung dimly in the sky, and he was bathed in a soft starry light. He sat with his legs curled up, holding a plate, and took a bite of the still-hot eggplant.

The Tang dynasty poet Liu Yuxi once wrote a poem called “Bamboo Branches,” saying, “On the mountain, layers of peach and plum blossoms, in the clouds, the smoke and fire of homes.”

Now, in front of him, there were no peach or plum trees, nor mountains and mist. Yet, he still felt as if he were in the mountains and fields.

Cheng Wanyun had already started grilling potato slices, leeks, and steamed buns. Eunuch Zheng and Sanbao were gathered around the grill, cooking other meat skewers. Yinreng’s face was flushed from the spice, his lips red. He waved at Cheng Wanyun and said, “Let the servants handle it. You just sit there.”

“These will be done soon,” Cheng Wanyun said. She had eaten too lightly earlier and wasn’t ready to indulge in too many strong flavors, so she finished grilling the vegetables she had and plated them. “This is how it is at home. My younger siblings eat as though they haven’t had a proper meal in years, devouring everything. By the time I finish washing my hands and come over, they’ve even licked the bamboo skewers clean.”

She walked over, a bit of ash on her nose, which made Yinreng chuckle.

“Mi Mi’s face is cleaner than yours,” Qingxing had brought water for washing. Yinreng smiled as he gently wiped her face with his handkerchief. “How many younger brothers do you have? How old are they? Are they doing well?”

“My eldest brother is twelve. Before I came to the palace, he had just passed the childhood examination. He’s very diligent,” Cheng Wanyun leaned into his embrace. “My second brother is ten, very mischievous. Every day he tries to find ways to escape school by climbing walls. I don’t know how many times he’s been beaten by my father, but he never changes. My father has threatened to send him to the army, but he’s also a good boy. Every time he goes out to play, he remembers to bring back something for me and grandmother. Sometimes it’s a clay figure or a straw grasshopper, and it always makes grandmother and me laugh.”

Yinreng immediately picked up on a detail. “So you used to live in your grandmother’s courtyard?”

Cheng Wanyun was surprised by his keen observation but didn’t want to say too much. She smiled and calmly took his hand. “Yes, thanks to grandmother’s kindness, I was happy to live with her…”

Yinreng stayed silent, holding her hand in return.

“Second Master,” Cheng Wanyun didn’t address him as the Prince anymore. She noticed the tense, restrained expression on his face, and with a small sigh, she sat up slightly and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s really not a big deal. You know, the back courtyard of the county magistrate’s residence is small. It wouldn’t be appropriate for the head of the household to stay in the side courtyard forever. My mother has been gone for many years, and as a child, I couldn’t just occupy the main courtyard. That’s why I went to my grandmother’s.”

Yinreng, however, thought of Empress Niu Hulu. When the three years of mourning for Empress Hesheri were over, Niu Hulu was elevated to Empress, and all of the late Empress’s belongings were removed from Kun Ning Palace. Niu Hulu was particularly cautious, almost obsessively cleaning out every trace of the late Empress as if trying to erase her entirely.

It’s a pity, though—no matter how much she flaunted, Niu Hulu was crowned Empress in August, and by September, The Emperor had already gone to supervise the burial of Empress Hesheri at Jingling. Later, Niu Hulu only held that position for about a year before dying in obscurity.

“You clearly had a hard life, yet you keep saying how good things were at home,” Yinreng sighed and shook his head. “Come on, be honest with me. Did your stepmother, younger sisters, and father really treat you well?”

Cheng Wanyun truly didn’t feel she had a hard life. Her past life had been a complete mess. Compared to her birth mother, who valued sons over daughters, and her father, who gambled and drank, her stepmother this life was already a million times better.

At eighteen, she had passed the national university exam (985), but was sold by her father to pay off his gambling debts. He received a dowry of 60,000 yuan from a lonely bachelor in the village, intending to force her into marriage. She stole her ID, fled on a train at night, and her father even had the audacity to report her to the police. Thankfully, the police ignored his lies, scolded him, and sent her to stay with the director of the Women’s Federation for a few days, helping her sort things out before allowing her to return home.

However, when she went back, the beatings and scoldings resumed. She had always dreamed of escaping. After going to college, she would distance herself from them forever and never return.

In her previous life, she didn’t even have a meaningful name—she was called Cheng Yun, where “Yun” meant “superfluous.” Her mother had been so worried when she was born, hoping that by naming her that, she might give birth to a son.

This time, her name was Master Cheng, carefully chosen after three days of deliberation while reading “The Book of Songs.” The phrase came from Zheng Feng: “There is a beautiful person, with a clear and graceful manner.”

“Wan,” meaning beauty, and “Yun,” meaning accumulation.

Her father only hoped she could accumulate a lifetime of good fortune and live a life of beauty and ease, without asking for anything more.

“Second Master, this life truly isn’t hard for me,” Cheng Wanyun said sincerely, from the bottom of her heart. “There’s a saying that ‘life is seldom as one wishes,’ and that shows that life never goes exactly as planned. Perhaps Heaven saw how hard my last life was, and that’s why I was born into the Cheng family and ended up enjoying a life of comfort in the Eastern Palace this time.”

If she had a choice to return to modern times, unless she could go back to the point where she was already an adult and in control of her own destiny, she wouldn’t want to return to her childhood, nor would she want to see her parents again.

If it were possible to make an exchange, she would rather keep her current father, Master Cheng, and this not-perfect stepmother.

Even though this era had its share of difficulties, even though life in the Eastern Palace could feel like walking on thin ice.

But she would always remember the moment she was born with the memories of her past life. As the midwife cleaned her up and brought her out, she heard the excited, trembling voice of a man, speaking to her, red-faced, wrinkled, and as ugly as a monkey: “My daughter is wonderful! Look, she looks so good, so beautiful! Just like me, just like me!”

Master Cheng’s doting expression as he held her close remained deeply imprinted in her newborn, blurry vision, unclear like an unwashed film, but it was something she could never forget.

In her past life, she had lived into her twenties and had never heard the words “my daughter is wonderful.”

Before the selection, Master Cheng had her stepmother take her to many grand temples and Taoist shrines every day to burn incense, praying to the Bodhisattvas and the Jade Emperor for her to be eliminated from the selection. She didn’t care whether those gods were involved with such matters or not.

Before leaving, Master Cheng stuffed more silver notes into her bag and repeatedly reminded her to not be frugal on the road, to properly take care of the officers and the eunuchs in charge, and to not aim for distinction or try to bring honor to her father—just to return safely.

The elderly servant who accompanied her to the capital had been personally chosen from the clan and had been warned repeatedly by her father to ensure she reached the capital safely.

He even mentioned that her father had prepared a shop and livelihood for her and planned to find an orphaned young man for her to marry. The plan was for her to buy a house near the county government office so that her father could easily check on her well-being by using a ladder.

He had even asked someone if there were any houses for sale near the county office, and how much they were asking. When her stepmother Wu found out, she hurriedly dragged him back home.

“If any worthless man dares to bully you, tell your brother to take a knife and kill him!” Master Cheng said fiercely.

Cheng Wanyun sat in the carriage, tearfully holding her father’s hand while repeatedly instructing him: “He must be a handsome man.”

Master Cheng also clung tightly to the carriage’s shaft, unwilling to leave, tears flowing freely: “I will remember, don’t worry.”

She truly called Master Cheng “Father” from the bottom of her heart.

In both lives, she recognized only him.

Unfortunately, now her current companion was handsome, but she had to be careful in serving him and could not act recklessly.

“Second Master, I only wish for peace in the family, for Father, Mother, Grandmother, and my siblings to be healthy. As for trivial things like a hairpin, a piece of clothing, or the occasional argument, what do they count for? These are small matters; I don’t care about them.”

The attendants stood far away, and Cheng Wanyun, emboldened, leaned into the Crown Prince, wrapped her arms around his neck, and whispered into his ear, “Second Master, please don’t laugh at me. When I treat them well, I do have my own selfish reasons, it’s not without expecting anything in return. I simply think that, just like how one must maintain relationships with outsiders, isn’t it important to nurture the love within a family? People’s hearts are made of flesh and blood, and even if we are bound by blood, we still crave a return for our efforts. My parents love me and hope I will be filial and loving in return. That’s why I am obedient and generous—I hope they will love me more, and that my sisters will respect me…”

Yinreng instinctively supported her back and hips with his arm, pulling her even closer, and was momentarily stunned by her words.

He had never thought of it in that way.

Parental love, too, needs careful nurturing; one must give in order to receive… It sounded so bitter, yet there seemed to be some truth to it, and it resonated with him! Perhaps this was how he and the Emperor should interact…

Cheng Wanyun, on the other hand, had deeply understood this in her past life—there is no love without reason. Even parental love comes with conditions. Perhaps there are parents who love their children unconditionally, but she had never encountered such parents. That’s why in this life, she cherished and valued her family, carefully nurturing familial love with all her heart.

Such a love, one that goes both ways, perhaps suited her better.

After finishing the barbecue, the two of them lay on the bamboo couch watching the stars. Heads together, they tried to spot the Big Dipper, and the lychee wine was poured into their cups. They gently clinked their glasses and smiled at each other.

By the time they truly went back to settle, it was already past midnight. Yinreng couldn’t sleep for more than two hours before he got up again.

But for some reason, he didn’t feel the slightest bit tired.

“He Baozhong, isn’t it strange? Staying up late, I feel more energetic than usual.” The Crown Prince stood there, allowing the attendants to dress him, his eyes filled with a soft smile as he glanced at the tightly drawn bed curtains in the inner room.

He wasn’t wrong. He Baozhong couldn’t help but roll his eyes internally while forcing a smile. ‘You, Your Highness, are just like a fox spirit that has been sucking the life force out of a scholar for an entire night. How could you not feel energized?’

But Yinreng had still gotten up a bit later. During breakfast, Mi Mi jumped up onto his lap, begging for food. He couldn’t resist and teased the cat with a dried fish. Mi Mi stood up on its hind legs, its big tail swishing as it nibbled away at the fish, purring loudly. He couldn’t help but laugh, picking the cat up after it finished the fish, shaking it slightly to check its weight. “Oh, you’ve gotten fatter.”

Mi Mi meowed as if protesting, quickly grabbing the remaining dried fish on the table and running off.

Yinreng couldn’t help but laugh at the shiny fur and plump body of the cat. He really didn’t understand it—everything Cheng Wanyun raised seemed to get fat easily. The fish in the front yard were as round as balls. After so long, he almost didn’t recognize them as the same little koi fish from before, thinking they must be a new breed.

After spending some time feeding the cat and delaying his breakfast, he ate a few hurried bites and quickly headed to the study.

He Baozhong, sharp-eyed, noticed that the Crown Prince’s golden folding fan had a new tassel. The fan’s head had been threaded with colorful silk, and at the bottom, there was a yellow amber carving of a cat.

His eyes quickly darted around, and he stepped forward, “Your Highness, I heard that Cheng Gege ordered some chicken roll pancakes for lunch. Since you have riding and archery lessons this afternoon, shall I ask the kitchen to prepare some extra for you to snack on?”

Yinreng thought for a moment. “Fine, have a few extra made.”

He knew that the food Cheng Wanyun ordered was never the standard palace fare—her methods and tastes were different. In the study, there were several princes, and if any of them wanted to try something new, he could share with them.

Now, thanks to being punished for skipping school, his relationship with his brothers was actually closer than before.

Last time, he had brewed a pot of honey peach oolong tea in the study, and his third and fourth brothers each asked for half a jar. After finishing it, they even asked for more, with the third brother shamelessly requesting more. From then on, Yinreng instructed He Baozhong never to bring Cheng Wanyun’s cellar tea into the study again. Instead, they would settle for regular tea.

As he passed through the southern garden, he suddenly heard a soft voice call out, “Your Highness.”

He turned his head and saw Tang Gege standing there, dressed in bright attire, holding a palace lantern, her figure graceful as she stood by the small stone path.

It wasn’t even dawn yet… After being blocked for several days, Yinreng felt a bit irritated.

He didn’t slow his steps, and He Baozhong, understanding the cue, gave a signal. A eunuch quickly went over to help dismiss Tang Gege.

Yinreng couldn’t quite understand. When Tang Gege first arrived, she had been quite obedient, but recently, she seemed to have become more troublesome. He didn’t say anything, not because he didn’t want to reprimand her—after all, Yang Gege had just left, and he didn’t want to restrict anyone too much—but that didn’t mean he was willing to tolerate it.

Look at A Wan, she would never do such a thing.

Even if he had coldly ignored her for a month for no reason, she neither complained nor caused trouble.

Wait.

Yinreng suddenly stopped in his tracks, and He Baozhong, who was following closely behind, almost bumped into him. Startled, He Baozhong leaned back with all his might, landing on the ground with a thud.

Right, why didn’t A Wan blame him? How could she not blame him?

After a moment of confusion, Yinreng suddenly remembered how Tang Gege had been dressed in the latest palace fashion, looking much better than A Wan. He immediately understood.

He had always visited the back courtyard frequently, but to avoid drawing attention, he had kept his gifts for A Wan on the smaller side. Unfortunately, his father, the Emperor, had specifically mentioned it, so he had deliberately distanced himself from her for a while. Perhaps A Wan thought he no longer favored her and, out of caution, dared not have any inappropriate thoughts?

Yes, it was his fault, his fault.

With that realization, he hurried a few steps forward. As he turned to give an order, he saw He Baozhong lying flat on the ground, looking like a pancake. Furious, he snapped, “What are you looking for on the ground? Is there gold or silver down there?”

“…” He Baozhong, with a pained expression, muttered, “My waist… it’s gone out!”