It wasn’t that she was exploiting child labor—on the contrary, both of them were eager for the opportunity.
How could she stand in the way of their bright futures?
Kangxi didn’t summon concubines to his chambers every night—he followed a disciplined pattern, typically indulging for three nights, then resting for two.
He rarely got up for water in the latter half of the night.
Perhaps this was one of Master Kang’s secrets to excessive indulgence while still maintaining longevity.
As Fang He internally criticized the stamina of historical drama male leads, she took advantage of Bai Min and Ran Xia’s absence from the imperial tea room to complete her water powder (an ancient liquid foundation).
In her past life, she had experimented with this in her dorm room alongside a few like-minded roommates, perfecting the craft over time.
Though it wasn’t as long-lasting as modern foundations, in terms of adherence and skin-friendliness, it could definitely rival high-end brands.
The key to making water powder was emulsification, which required glycerin.
In modern times, ready-made emulsifiers were available, but here, she had no choice but to make her own.
Glycerin was easier to extract from animal fat, but rendering fat in the imperial tea house?
The smell would spread, and that would be a surefire way to court death.
So, she opted for a less efficient but safer method—extracting glycerin from sesame seeds.
She cleaned and dried the sesame seeds, pressed them for oil, and filtered alkaline water from plant ash that had been pre-settled.
Then, she mixed the oil and alkaline water, gently heated and stirred the mixture to allow full saponification.
The clear liquid that separated was glycerin.
Since this raw glycerin contained impurities, she had to filter it several times with fine cotton cloth, let it settle for a few days, and filter again to obtain a reasonably pure final product.
While the glycerin was being processed, she also prepped glutinous rice and millet, soaking them separately in clean water.
After a light fermentation over several days, she drained the water, dried the grains over a small clay stove, and ground them into powder using a stone mortar.
This was the legendary “ancient English powder”—but in its raw form, it was coarse and prone to flaking, which was why historical makeup often required constant touch-ups.
Fortunately, modern ingenuity had refined the process over time.
She incorporated pearl powder into the mix, repeatedly grinding and filtering it with water, then straining it several more times through fine cotton.
This produced a smoother powder water, which was then dried and ground again into an even finer loose powder—the ancient precursor to setting powder.
Glutinous rice-based powder was naturally pure white, and when mixed with rouge, it became blush.
But Fang He wanted to keep a low profile, so she blended in millet powder, resulting in a light yellow-toned setting powder.
Some people also added mica powder for UV protection.
In her past life, she was naturally fair-skinned and never bothered with it.
But in the Qing Dynasty, sun protection was actually important.
However, finding mica powder was too much trouble, so she skipped it altogether.
After producing the setting powder, she combined it with her homemade glycerin in a well-sealed jar and shook it vigorously to fully emulsify it.
The secret to a smooth, well-adhering water powder?
Adding the glycerin little by little while shaking multiple times for better emulsification.
By the time Fang He had successfully crafted her ancient liquid foundation, the Forbidden City had turned into a sweltering oven.
Master Kang couldn’t stand the heat and decided to escort the Grand Empress Dowager and the Empress Dowager to the Southern Garden Palace for summer retreat.
The imperial concubines, princes, and princesses all followed, and of course, the palace staff from the imperial tea house had to go as well.
***
By the time Fang He saw Wei Disheng again, it was already June.
The boy had tanned noticeably, making his round, bright eyes seem even more spirited.
He no longer had that pitiful, ostracized look from before.
The moment he saw Fang He, he couldn’t stop talking, practically buzzing with excitement:
“Sister Fang He, the shop outside the palace is open! It’s small, but the location is decent, near the inner city. We got it for 130 taels. Godfather knew the formula came from you, so he chipped in some silver to send Xiao Chenzi to the countryside for better raw materials…”
“Our scented soap is a hit with the wealthy families, and even the rural landlords love it…”
“Godfather ordered that we hold off on making deodorant balls for now, but we’ve already started producing whitening pills. Xiao Chenzi even managed to connect with a few high-ranking official families in the inner city and sold a few bottles…”
“You wouldn’t believe how well Chief Eunuch Gu treats me! He didn’t even take a cut of my earnings but still put in a good word for me with His Majesty. Now, I finally get to rotate into palace duties, and Li Dequan can only watch and stew in frustration, hahaha…”
…
Wei Disheng had clearly been holding in his words for too long while serving at the imperial front.
The moment he started talking, he was like a full-speed Tang Monk, rattling off his sentences rapidly and without pause.
Still, he was skilled—he kept his voice low enough so no one else could hear, yet managed to squeeze all the important details into Fang He’s ears.
The shop outside the palace didn’t require much decoration—after all, it was just a tiny place, not somewhere they expected nobility to visit directly.
The upper-class customers rarely went out shopping themselves.
Instead, they sent their household servants to purchase goods for them.
The shop had only been open for two months—the first month wasn’t profitable—but this time, Wei Disheng eagerly shoved eight taels and five maces of silver into Fang He’s hands, proud as could be.
He was absolutely convinced that if he hadn’t entered the palace, he could have been a successful merchant by now.
Fang He: “…”
Yep, novels really are just fairy tales.
All those “transmigration geniuses” who instantly take the ancient world by storm, making the locals tremble at their modern formulas—pure nonsense.
Take soap, for example. Ancient China already had plenty of cleaning products.
The poor used plant ash, soap pods, rice water, sesame leaves—basically, whatever was free.
Even if these weren’t super effective, they were good enough.
The wealthy had bath beans, laundry soap, hibiscus leaves, soybean water—they pursued refinement however they pleased, since the hard labor was always handled by servants.
So, while scented soap was a novelty, it wasn’t an irreplaceable necessity.
Servants liked the convenience and would buy it, but it wasn’t a must-have item.
As for the common folk?
Forget it.
They wouldn’t even spare a penny for cheap soap.
If they had spare money, they’d rather buy meat to enrich their family’s meals.
At the end of the day, they had made around 20 taels—mostly thanks to Qiao Cheng, who helped secure bulk orders for the palace, selling to eunuchs who ran errands for palace maids.
These eunuchs knew how to calculate their connections and favors—it was a win-win situation.
Fang He wasn’t greedy.
Including her monthly salary, her savings had already reached double digits.
If she averaged six taels per month, in three years, she’d have nearly 200 taels.
Considering two taels was enough to feed a whole family for a year, her wealth accumulation was pretty impressive.
After being inspired by Wei Disheng, her ambitions remained modest—she would wait until she left the palace, then slowly expand.
She might not be able to overthrow the feudal system, but she could comfortably coast through life without worry.
And Wei Disheng was still eagerly reporting new developments:
“Some palace maids tried our products and loved them! Once word spread that Godfather was the supplier, they even came to buy directly!”
With stable business inside and outside the palace, and Wei Disheng steadily securing his position at the imperial front, he even helped Fang He avoid potential dangers when she was on duty.
Fang He was more than satisfied.
For the next two and a half years, she just needed to collect her earnings, follow the easy three-days-on, two-days-off work schedule, and pass the time by listening to ‘audio-only’ action films.
Life was good.
***
But plans never keep up with change.
Before Fang He even had a chance to roast the pumpkin seeds Wei Disheng had brought her and stash them in her pockets, disaster struck.
Wei Disheng had an accident while serving at the imperial front.
Qiao Cheng came to tell her the news—Wei Disheng had been on duty in the imperial study, fumbled, and broke the emperor’s inkstone.
As punishment, he was given fifty heavy blows with the plank and was now lying half-dead in Anping Hall.
Fang He blurted out without thinking:
“Impossible.”
Wei Disheng had only made it into the imperial front because of his meticulous and cautious nature.
Even Gu Wenxing, the head eunuch of the Ministry of Rites, had kept an eye on him—how could he possibly make such a careless mistake?
And more importantly—he had only been at the imperial front for a few months, just starting to get into good palace assignments.
How did he even end up in the imperial study in the first place?
She grabbed Qiao Cheng anxiously, demanding an answer, but he wouldn’t tell her.
His visit was merely to warn her:
“Forget about the business outside the palace, but stop any dealings inside the palace. It’s too eye-catching, too risky. I don’t have anyone backing me up if trouble comes.”
“Your aunt is right. Stay away from the imperial front—just stick to boiling water in the imperial tea room.”
Fang He immediately understood—Wei Disheng must have stepped on someone’s toes.
Perhaps Liang Jiugong or Li Dequan had felt threatened…
She couldn’t sit still, so she took advantage of her free time to sneak over to Anping Hall.
There, she saw Wei Disheng lying unconscious, his body burning up with fever, his skin covered in sweat, unable to even turn over from the pain.
Her eyes burned with heat, an overwhelming realization hitting her like a punch to the gut.
No matter how carefully and cautiously she played the game, there was no guarantee that she would survive long enough to leave the palace and enjoy old age.
Because this was the Qing imperial court, where human lives were worth less than a blade of grass.
She had no idea how Wei Disheng ended up as a eunuch steward at the imperial front, but watching him delirious, whispering in pain, she knew one thing for sure.
She couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.
Her uncle’s warning?
Useless.
She had already crossed the line.