Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 45: The Ant

   Night, Embroidery Workshop.

   Candlelight flickered, illuminating the two people in the room.

Momo Zhang sat on a chair. Wei Yingluo knelt beside her like a grandchild attending to an elder, carefully putting the leather knee pad she had made onto Momo Zhang’s knee.

“Ever since I entered the Forbidden City, I’ve felt like my legs don’t belong to me anymore. Whether it’s on rockeries or gravel paths, the moment I meet a master, I have to kneel. I’m still young and can handle it, but Momo, you can’t. In the future it will definitely cause problems.” Wei Yingluo chattered on, “Try it—doesn’t it feel much more comfortable with this pad on your knee?”

Being cared for and looked after like this—even if what was wrapped around her knee was just a bundle of weeds—Momo Zhang would still feel warmth deep in her heart. She smiled and said, “Very good. Your hands are getting more and more skillful.”

The knee pad was sewn by Wei Yingluo herself. She was clever with her hands and had chosen good leather, but she still wasn’t fully satisfied. Looking at it somewhat critically, she said, “I saw how the eunuchs wear them. It’s just a pity I couldn’t find better leather. When I get hold of some really good material later, I’ll make you a new one.”

Momo Zhang sighed softly. “Yingluo…”

“What is it?” Wei Yingluo looked at her.

Momo Zhang hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. “Snowball is obviously pure white all over. Why did you deliberately pick out one with a flaw to hand over?”

Wei Yingluo never hid anything from her. While changing the knee pad for Momo Zhang, she had already casually recounted everything she had done that day.

“Because Imperial Guard Soulun and Fucha Fuheng are good friends!” Naturally she wouldn’t hide the rest either. Wei Yingluo smiled and said, “Soulun is careless and rough, but Fucha Fuheng is very clever. He’ll definitely notice very quickly that I tampered with it. Within a few days, he’ll surely come find me.”

“You deliberately put on that act in front of him?” Why? Old ginger is still the spiciest. After a moment’s thought, Momo Zhang arrived at the answer. “Earlier you acted on impulse and gave him that doctored pig bladder. Although you got away with it at the time, he must have started to suspect afterward! How do you make him drop his suspicions? The only way is to stage a little play—make him think you have a kind heart, that you’re someone who can’t even bear to harm a small animal.”

“Momo, am I very bad?” Wei Yingluo rested her cheek against her knee and murmured, “But to avenge my sister and make things right, I can only be the bad one.”

“If you were a bad person, you wouldn’t have saved Noble Lady Yu three times over, even going so far as to oppose Noble Consort Hui.” Momo Zhang sighed and gently stroked her hair. “If you were a bad person, you wouldn’t have made a nest for Snowball and even saved your own food to give to it.”

Wei Yingluo: “I was just using even a dog to get myself out of there.”

This silly child! Momo Zhang couldn’t help but laugh. “If you were truly a bad person, you wouldn’t be so hung up about it. If you really wanted to be a villain, you’d have to be thoroughly bad—cut the grass and remove the roots, never show mercy or softness. Learn from Noble Consort Hui!”

Chuxiu Palace.

   Concubine Jia knelt on the ground.

How long had she been kneeling? She couldn’t remember anymore. She only felt that her two knees no longer belonged to her. Sweat dripped from her forehead, pattering onto the floor.

“That damned girl has ruined my plans time and time again, yet the Empress keeps protecting her.” Noble Consort Hui’s voice sounded from above her, coolly saying, “I have to consider my position and can’t dispose of her casually. Tell me, what’s the best way to deal with her and let me vent my anger?”

Concubine Jia’s mind raced. Finally, she gritted her teeth and uttered one name: “Prince Yi!”

“Him?” Noble Consort Hui’s tone carried disdain. “That useless man—what can he do?”

“He is, after all, a legitimate prince of the blood.” When it came to plotting against others, Concubine Jia had a natural talent. She immediately smiled with confidence. “Although Prince Yi’s household is no longer as powerful as before, he still holds an iron-cap Prince title.”

Noble Consort Hui said nothing, seemingly waiting for her to continue.

“This proper imperial clansman is now merely a Guard of the Qianqing Gate—he didn’t even make it to an Imperial Guard. He must be seething inside!” Concubine Jia analyzed for her. “Right now he’s extremely close with young Master Gao, and he’s counting on you to promote him, so he’s doing everything he can to curry favor! If you have any instructions, he would surely be delighted to carry them out…”

Noble Consort Hui’s voice finally warmed a little: “But he is still a Qianqing Gate Guard. There are too many eyes watching—his hands can’t easily reach into the inner palace!”

Concubine Jia breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she had survived another hurdle, though her face remained respectful. “To strike a snake, you must hit its vital point. This servant has already sent people to inquire at the embroidery workshop and discovered that Wei Yingluo once had an entanglement with a certain guard…”

“Oh?” Noble Consort Hui was slightly surprised. She sat up straighter. “What is that guard’s name?”

…

“Fucha Fuheng!”

In the Guard Station, Fucha Fuheng turned around and saw his friend Hailancha sauntering toward him.

“What’s wrong?” Hailancha waved a hand in front of his face. “Didn’t sleep well last night? You look completely distracted.”

Fuheng indeed hadn’t slept well. The moment he closed his eyes, he saw a snow-white slender wrist, bearing only his own red mark.

In reality he was so restrained, yet in his dreams he was utterly unrestrained—exactly as she wished, and exactly as he himself desired—he had pressed his lips to it…

He shook his head, trying to dispel those heart-fluttering images, and asked, “What do you need me for?”

“Can’t I look for you without a reason?” After saying this, Hailancha suddenly gave a meaningful glance in one direction and lowered his voice. “That fellow has been unusually diligent lately—not diligent at work, but diligent at chasing palace maids…”

Fuheng looked over and saw a sharp-faced, monkey-cheeked man standing not far away, exuding an extremely arrogant demeanor. He was whispering closely with a palace maid, their heads almost touching—impossible to tell what secrets they were exchanging.

“Prince Yi!”

The other man started, turned his head. “Fucha Fuheng?”

The palace maid beside him, seeing someone arrive—especially someone as important as Fucha Fuheng—immediately paled with fright, hurriedly curtsied, and scurried away with her head lowered.

“Is this palace maid an acquaintance of the Prince?” Fuheng asked with a smile.

“Not really.” Prince Yi laughed. “A few days ago I lost a fan here and was just asking if she had seen it.”

“Oh?” Fuheng looked at him appraisingly. “Is that so?”

“Or else what?” Prince Yi’s expression immediately darkened. He let out a cold snort. “Don’t tell me you actually suspect that I, a proper prince of the blood, would have some illicit affair with a palace maid?”

Without any evidence, even though he harbored suspicions in his heart, Fuheng could only shake his head at this moment: “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Hmph, ‘wouldn’t dare’ is the right answer!” Prince Yi assumed the full airs of a prince, speaking to Fuheng the way a superior scolds a subordinate, jutting his chin toward him. “I inherited my title at nine years old. I am an iron-cap Prince of the Great Qing, entitled to hereditary succession without replacement. And who are you? Don’t think that just because you have the Emperor’s favor, you can disregard me!”

With that, without waiting for Fuheng to respond, he flicked his sleeve and stormed off.

“Once I’ve successfully completed the task Noble Consort sent me and gained her support, let’s see if you can still strut around in front of me!” On the road, Prince Yi still felt indignant and resentful, thinking how unjust the ways of heaven were—that a petty villain like Fucha Fuheng could actually rise to prominence. “But really, Noble Consort is something else… making such a fuss and giving endless warnings about such a trivial matter… Qingxi!”

In the duty room, Qingxi was just preparing to go out and take over the next shift of guards when someone suddenly walked in. He was slightly startled, unsure why this person was looking for him, but he still respectfully greeted: “Qingxi pays respects to Prince Yi.”

Prince Yi (Hongxiao) was quite satisfied with his attitude—this was exactly how inferiors ought to behave in the presence of a prince like him. He pulled the man aside a few steps to a quiet, unoccupied corner and smiled: “Qingxi, I hear you’ve been scheming lately to get a promotion!”

Qingxi gave him a strange look. Where did he get that information? The two of them had never had much contact—what was he digging into this for? So he carefully replied: “Your Highness must be joking. Right now I’m only a second-rank guard. Who wouldn’t want to become a first-rank one?”

Hongxiao seemed to have been waiting for exactly this response. He immediately burst into laughter, then got straight to the point: “If I were to put in a word of recommendation, it naturally wouldn’t be difficult.”

Though he was a prince whose family fortunes had declined, an iron-cap prince was still an iron-cap prince. As he said, if he opened his mouth to speak on the matter, things would indeed become much easier—except…

“Your Highness is truly willing to help me?” Qingxi knew there was no such thing as a free lunch in this world. The other party wasn’t a relative or close friend—his willingness to help must mean he wanted something. “If Your Highness is truly willing to say a few good words for me in front of the Minister of the Imperial Guards, then even if it means climbing mountains of blades or seas of fire, Qingxi would be willing to do it for Your Highness.”

“No need for you to climb mountains of blades or cross seas of fire.” Hongxiao smiled slyly. “I just need you to help me crush a tiny little ant to death…”

“Oh? May I ask Your Highness, what is the name of that ant?”

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