Chapter 326

Chapter 326

After all, even the First Prince couldn’t stay long when he visited and was soon asked to leave.

If the First Prince were to act foolishly at this moment, he wouldn’t gain any advantage either. The servants, valuing their lives, would do everything to stop him—this time, they could certainly hold him back.

Previously, they hadn’t dared to stop him, but now, they didn’t dare *not* to.

The First Prince’s temper flared quickly but cooled just as fast.

How did he calm down?

Because he realized he wasn’t the only one suffering—and that instantly made him feel much better.

Well, it was mainly about hitting a wall with Consort Rong but being powerless to do anything about it—utterly frustrating!

Then he discovered, *Ah, it’s not just me who’s hit a wall with her.* Every single one of them had suffered the same fate, and suddenly, his heart felt at ease. That was exactly how the First Prince felt!

The consorts and concubines who had initially rushed over upon hearing the news to visit the sick not only failed to see anyone but were also scolded by Kangxi for dressing too lavishly. *Consort Rong is ill, yet you come adorned in gaudy finery—clearly insincere!* His words showed no mercy, striking precisely where it hurt, turning their faces ashen with shame.

Some, who had kept their intentions hidden and dressed modestly yet elegantly, had initially mocked those fools for not even bothering to pretend. But Kangxi had another standard: *Consort Rong isn’t even that ill, yet you’re wearing mourning attire—what ill intentions lie in your hearts?* He criticized them indiscriminately, leaving no one unscathed.

Those who had held back, thinking to let others test the waters first, hadn’t even begun to rejoice at their restraint before Kangxi grew even angrier. *Heartless creatures! You know Consort Rong is ill, yet you don’t even bother to visit!*

Coming was a wrong attitude; not coming was having no attitude at all. There was no room for luck—this was a no-win situation, regardless of whether one was present or not.

Suddenly, their tasks became even heavier than Noble Lady Hui’s. Just moments ago, they had been sneering and mocking in secret, but now the tables had turned.

A hundred copies a day—leaving little time for sleep, just endless copying. Once finished, the papers were burned, and there were even special inspections. The consequences of slacking off or having someone else copy for them were unbearable, so they had no choice but to plow through the copying.

After days of relentless copying, some couldn’t take it anymore and resorted to cutting corners, even bribing officials. Thinking that among so many copies, some would inevitably be burned anyway, they mixed half-copied, half-faked work. But then Kangxi unexpectedly picked one out—and it happened to be the shoddy one. The inspector, pale with fear, immediately knelt and begged for mercy, about to reveal who was responsible.

"Beat them to death," Kangxi said indifferently, tossing the subpar copy aside. The papers fluttered noisily across the floor.

As for the one who had dared to act so boldly under scrutiny, Kangxi seemed to take no further action, punishing only the bribed servant.

But when the Emperor turned against someone, even the smallest matter could be magnified infinitely—anyone involved would perish, and it wouldn’t stop at just one person. The repercussions could extend from an individual to an entire group.

Just when people thought Kangxi might let it go without further consequences, that very concubine stumbled two days later and broke her arm.

Worse, as she fell, her already fractured arm was crushed beneath her body on the steps, suffering a second trauma. The bone even pierced through the flesh, and she fainted from the pain on the spot. The imperial physicians diagnosed that even with careful treatment, her arm would never fully recover—it would look different from a normal person’s and could no longer bear weight. Effectively, it was crippled.

Upon hearing this, the concubine wept uncontrollably, nearly fainting from despair. She lashed out at the physicians but to no avail. By then, some were already wondering—*had her fall truly been accidental?*

With her arm ruined, she was spared the misery of copying scriptures unwillingly. But such a "fortunate outcome" was anything but for her.

What came next was even more chilling. Due to the severe injury and her refusal to cooperate, the concubine developed a high fever—and eventually succumbed to it. Her death from illness went entirely unnoticed.

But it sent chills down their spines of the other consorts and concubines, whose hands were nearly ruined from copying. They’d rather cripple their hands than dare to cut corners now. Some had initially harbored thoughts of *"If nothing happened to her, maybe I could…?"*—but now, such ideas were utterly extinguished.

A "coincidental" fall, a crippled arm, a fatal fever—this "death from illness" was anything but natural. They realized this was no time to take advantage of weakness. To try was to risk death. Before Consort Rong could even suffer, the Emperor had already made others serve as her stepping stones.

Even consorts of the *booi* lineage (bondservant class) who had borne princes were demoted, their positions in the harem made precarious. The high ranks they had painstakingly climbed were suddenly reduced to their former struggles. A demotion could be endured—they could rise again in time. But now, their path to nobility was capped, halted below the *concubine rank*, leaving them in despair.

Desperate for a new way out, they found even their tentative probes blocked by Consort Rong’s illness. Neither could criticize the other—their fates were warnings. Push further, and they might follow her. They had no choice but to retreat again.

Forcing pious expressions on their faces as if praying for Consort Rong’s recovery, their hands aching, their minds dulled by exhaustion—it nearly broke their will. They truly wished Consort Rong would recover soon. If this went on any longer, *they* would be the next to fall ill!

None were spared punishment, all 'rewarded' with the task of churning out a hundred copies daily to be burned in prayer for Consort Rong. Until she recovered, the ordeal seemed endless.

These daily forced tasks are downright brutal, leaving almost no time to even close one's eyes—everyone’s copying like their lives depend on it!

Those scheming consorts who saw the Imperial Noble Consort’s illness as their chance, pretending to show sisterly concern during visits to curry favor with the Emperor, got burned instead.

Especially at this critical moment, no one dared to ghostwrite—their hands were cramping up from nonstop copying. Those who had secretly mocked Noble Lady Hui soon found themselves suffering the same fate!

What a damn circus.

Among them, Noble Lady Qing was the most composed. Even though she didn’t foolishly involve herself, she got dragged into it anyway. Yet she remained as serene as ever, never once complaining about copying the scriptures, even in private.

Or perhaps she wasn’t all that surprised and didn’t feel as indignant as the others. However, her maidservant couldn’t help but complain, expressing grievances on Noble Lady Qing’s behalf, needling her to aim higher.

After all, no low-born girl could climb the ranks now, but the Tongjia clan was different. Even if she couldn’t rival the Imperial Noble Consort or the Empress, with the Consort position now vacant, this was Qing’s shot!

The Emperor’s current treatment of low-born families could also be used to elevate noble-born Manchu women.

Noble Lady Qing had never had the chance to gain favor since entering the palace, and she was exceptionally patient, believing the timing wasn’t right and that haste would be unwise.

But the Tongjias were losing patience. They had sent Noble Lady Qing into the palace to support the Imperial Noble Consort, hoping she would bear a son to be raised by the Imperial Noble Consort, keeping the Tongjia name shining.

Yet after entering the palace, Noble Lady Qing never received good news or favor. The Emperor barely glanced her way, treating her like any other consort. The Tongjia family had hoped the Emperor would show some consideration for Empress Xiaokangzhang’s sake, but as time passed, they grew anxious.

Noble Lady Qing’s chief maid, arranged by the Tongjia family, urged her to strive harder—after all, the family had raised her, and she owed them everything!

Of course, the maid couldn’t issue direct orders, being just a servant. Instead, she kept nudging Qing to hustle, dangling the Imperial Noble Consort’s privilege in her face. Unlike others, Noble Lady Qing was of the Tongjia clan—surely the Emperor would show some regard.

Now, with the other consorts forced into silence and the Imperial Noble Consort ill, the Emperor was in need of attendants. Missing this opportunity would be a mistake, so the maid relentlessly provoked Noble Lady Qing, fanning her envy of the Imperial Noble Consort’s glory.

Noble Lady Qing remained calm, fully aware of her maid’s manipulations. At first, she maintained her serene demeanor, then deliberately showed signs of resentment and jealousy, scolding the maid to leave her alone. Though she appeared displeased, she caught the maid’s fleeting look of satisfaction before she withdrew.

Alone, Noble Lady Qing’s smile turned cold, her eyes going sharp with scorn. The surge of emotion was intense but quickly suppressed, returning to her usual calm. Yet the suppressed feelings weren’t resolved—they were merely buried, a time bomb under her calm.

—Might as well play dead and skip the nasty brew.

Anyway, if death comes, so be it—just bury me.

Who announces their illness beforehand? Su Yi felt no guilt as she lay still, letting her body toe the line with death.

Her motto: If you can’t kill me, do as you please—I’m lying down first. Rest speeds recovery and spares her the acting. She wasn’t pretending a mild illness was severe—she was downplaying a critical condition. Why put on a damn act?

The backlash and her soul’s incompatibility with the body blocked her path to surpassing this world’s limits. The stronger her soul, the heavier the strain on her body. Su Yi suffered but endured—she wasn’t dying on their watch. Could they really trap her forever?

She burned for days, her breath faint, terrifying those around her. The imperial docs were sweating bullets, fearing her death would take them with her. The stress aged them a decade, running on fumes and frayed nerves.

The palace servants, too, were exhausted, jumping at every sound, their nerves frayed from sleepless nights and constant tension.

But there was no escape. Even the ministers wanted to avoid the Emperor, who was a powder keg ready to blow—but escape was impossible.

The Crown Prince, equally volatile, followed suit. Though praised for his regal demeanor, his razor tongue and temper were unmistakably inherited from the Aisin-Gioro line. Servants who once thought him merely difficult now missed the ‘easy’ days.

With the Imperial Noble Consort ill, the whole palace was running on empty, everyone on the verge of collapse.

When Su Yi woke again, she was dressed lightly, her back pressed against a warm chest, her waist tightly held—like being coiled by a python. She almost threw an elbow on instinct.

"Awake." A low, hoarse voice murmured in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. Kangxi nuzzled her neck, his arm encircling her, gripping her slender shoulders firmly.

Su Yi was still feverish. Even with ice nearby, his warmth felt like a furnace in summer. After a pause, she asked, "How long was I asleep?"

Her voice wasn’t as hoarse as expected. Her lips weren’t chapped but slightly moist—someone must have regularly given her water. Though not thirsty, she couldn’t be bothered to twitch.

The embrace was slightly too warm, inevitably causing a light sheen of sweat, and both of them were affected.

Su Yi shifted slightly, wanting to turn around to face Kangxi directly, at least to avoid sticking so close, but found herself unable to.

Kangxi’s voice was hoarse and muffled as he crushed her closer, “Seven days.”

The purple energy that enveloped them both, as if trying to wrap them completely, made Su Yi feel like a cat that had just inhaled catnip.

Coming much sooner than Su Yi had expected—she had thought she’d need at least a month and a half to recover, if not for the nourishment of the purple energy.

Was it… a coincidence?

Buried in the crook of her neck, Kangxi’s expression was calm but carried a thread of something unwell, his eyes seething with a viscous darkness that would make anyone who saw it avert their gaze, alarms ringing in their minds.

But since Su Yi was being held from behind, she didn’t turn around and thus couldn’t see Kangxi’s expression at that moment.

Under the light filtering through the bed curtains, her feverish skin, jade-like and translucent, took on a faint rosy hue, impossible to look away from.

The pale moon-white ribbon of her undergarment was precariously draped over her shoulders, her delicate bones exuding a subtle fragrance. Kangxi, growing drunk on the faint scent, leisurely used his teeth to tug at the thin ribbon, his warm breath continuously brushing against the tender nape of her neck.

Her elevated body temperature seemed to have even transferred to his lips, branding her snow-white skin with searing heat.