Eating melons is fine, but reincarnation is not an option.
If she thought she could gossip and spectate like in her past life, she was just daydreaming.
Since transmigrating, Fang He had gained a deeper understanding of the Forbidden City with each passing day.
Thankfully, her experience in the service industry had trained her to be discreet and cautious—anyone else in her place might have already broken down.
She kept her head down and quietly stepped out from the corner of Yuehua Gate, quickly moving along the edge of the corridor before slipping into the imperial tea room.
Today, neither Ru Yue, Qiao Wen, nor Fang He were on duty, but Cuiwei and Wunai, who were in the tea room, didn’t seem surprised to see her.
Cuiwei was the one who had flipped sides in the small side room when Qiao Wen was speaking earlier.
Aside from Fang He, she was the longest-serving palace maid in Qianqing Palace, having been there for seven years.
She was just waiting to take over Qin Gugu’s position and carried herself with considerable arrogance.
Wunai, on the other hand, was the younger cousin of Concubine Tong from the Ula-Nara clan.
Since Concubine Tong had been in the palace for seven years without bearing a child, her family had sent Wunai in specifically to help produce an heir.
She had entered the palace only six months before Qiao Wen, but because Concubine Tong was displeased with her presence.
Wunai had yet to receive an opportunity to serve directly in the emperor’s presence.
Still, with powerful backing, no one dared to provoke her.
Previously, when Cuiwei and Wunai were on duty, they either had Yinghong handle the water-boiling, or if they wanted to rest, they would call on Fang He’s original body to do it—something she had never refused.
Had it not been for today’s monthly allowance distribution, Cuiwei and Wunai would have already summoned Fang He to work.
Now, seeing that Fang He had sensibly come on her own, Cuiwei simply smirked.
“Why didn’t you wait until after lunch to come? You could’ve rested a bit longer.”
Fang He: “……”
(If it weren’t for the gossip, I wouldn’t bother with any of this, damn it!）
Like her original self, she didn’t argue.
She simply lowered her head and crouched by the small clay stove, seamlessly taking over Wunai’s task.
Wunai was used to Fang He’s silent, hardworking nature and couldn’t even be bothered to throw a few snide remarks.
She stood by the doorway, lifting the curtain to peek outside.
“I heard some commotion earlier—was Consort Yi here?”
Cuiwei, casually wiping the tea-making utensils, responded absentmindedly, “Probably. Word is that the Ninth Prince has started speaking. She’s likely here to invite His Majesty to see him.”
Wunai’s eyes flickered, and she instinctively touched her stomach before gazing outside with a mix of longing and complexity.
Had it not been for her desire to bear a prince, she could have easily skipped the palace selection process, gotten rejected, and married into a good family instead.
But once inside the palace, she realized that her cousin’s infertility might not just be bad luck—it could very well be because her mindset was too narrow.
Even back when she was still in the Office of Internal Affairs, Concubine Tong had treated her like she didn’t exist.
It had taken great effort from her family just to have her assigned to Qianqing Palace.
No matter what, she had to give birth to a child—that was the only way to have a future.
Even a princess would be better than ending up like Fang He—growing old in the palace, only to be discarded later, struggling to even find a position as someone’s second wife.
Cuiwei’s eyes flashed with sarcasm, but she remained silent.
She had long given up on the idea of serving the emperor.
With no competition between them, there was no need to pour cold water on Wunai’s hopes.
Did Wunai really think life in the imperial harem was easy?
The two continued chatting animatedly, failing to notice that Fang He—who had just been compared to a cautionary tale—was quietly opening the window facing Zhaoren Hall, pretending to air out the room.
While they had their backs turned, she swiftly grabbed a wooden stool, stacked it on top of the one she usually sat on, and leaned against the windowsill.
It looked like she was properly boiling water, but in reality, her eyes were locked on the scene outside.
Consort Yi was traveling slowly in a soft sedan chair—if she had sprinted over in her embroidered thousand-layered shoes, she might have just made it in time for the action.
As her gaze landed outside Zhaoren Hall, she caught sight of Qiao Wen, holding a tray of tea, speaking with Liang Jiugong.
***
Qiao Wen knew that when Ru Yue told her about the new palace servants sent by the Office of Internal Affairs, it was meant to provoke her into making a move—testing the waters ahead of time to see if she had a chance to advance.
But while Ru Yue’s family had spent all their silver just to get her into Qianqing Palace, proving they were nothing but a declining household, Qiao Wen’s background was different.
Not all Banner households were eligible to participate in the Internal Affairs Selection.
The Bannermen were divided into Eight Banners of the Manchu, Mongol, and Han, with an additional Eight Banners of the Bondservants (Bao Yi)—who were essentially the slaves of the Bannermen.
Among the Manchu, Mongol, and Han Eight Banners, noble girls could participate in the Imperial Selection (Da Xuan), which allowed them to be chosen as consorts or concubines.
They could also opt for the Internal Affairs Selection (Xiao Xuan), which assigned them as palace servants, but hardly anyone would willingly choose to become a servant if they could avoid it.
The only ones eligible to officially enter the palace as maids through the Internal Affairs Selection were the Upper Three Banners of the Bondservants—the Plain Yellow Banner, Bordered Yellow Banner, and Plain White Banner.
Because only these three banners were directly owned by the emperor.
Within the Upper Three Bondservant Banners, there were ordinary banner households, such as Fang He’s family—her mother, Xu Jiashi, was from the Plain White Banner Bondservants.
But there were also families that had served noble households for generations, like Qiao Wen’s.
Her father and mother worked in the residence of Prince Kang, Jieshu, and she was from the Bordered Yellow Banner Bondservants.
Prince Kang had once been a favored subject in Emperor Kangxi’s court, achieving great military success.
However, in the 21st year of Kangxi’s reign, he made a grave mistake.
As punishment, his military honors were stripped, his salary was suspended for a year, and he was ordered to stay at home for self-reflection.
Prince Kang still harbored hopes of restoring his status, so he sought ways to regain Kangxi’s favor.
One of his strategies was to send Qiao Wen into the palace ahead of time.
If Qiao Wen could enter the harem, she might one day become someone who could whisper in the emperor’s ear on his behalf.
If she failed to gain favor and had no path forward, she would either be released from the palace at age 25 or simply die forgotten within the Forbidden City—no one would care.
Since Prince Kang personally selected her, Qiao Wen’s beauty was unquestionable.
But the moment she entered the palace, she was immediately targeted—Wunai and Yinghong joined forces to put her in her place.
Had she not brought up her connection to Prince Kang’s household, she might have been kicked out of Qianqing Palace by Qin Gugu before she even had a chance.
She knew that with her appearance, trouble was inevitable sooner or later.
Her only chance at survival was to climb higher.
Even though Ru Yue’s intentions were not pure, Qiao Wen had no choice.
If she waited for an opening to serve in the emperor’s presence, there was no telling how long it would take.
But a woman’s prime years were short—she couldn’t afford to wait.
Still, she wasn’t foolish enough to rush blindly into serving the emperor.
She cautiously went to the Imperial Tea Room, brewed tea as a show of skill, and then—clenching her teeth—pulled out a one-hundred-tael silver banknote, her most valuable possession, before approaching Liang Jiugong.
Her words were flawless, full of flattery:
“Even before I entered the palace, my father told me that he often heard Prince Kang praise Liang Andar (an honorific for high-ranking eunuchs) for being meticulous and fair, always bringing honor to His Majesty.”
Liang Jiugong already knew Qiao Wen’s background—there was nothing in the imperial court that he wasn’t aware of.
Otherwise, how could he have gained such favor from the emperor?
But Prince Kang?
His military career had been mediocre at best.
The older he got, the more cowardly he became.
He was no longer relevant, and calling him a fallen noble wasn’t an exaggeration.
Still, Liang Jiugong smiled and made a mockingly humble gesture toward the doorway.
“To be remembered by the Prince is truly an honor—but this servant is unworthy!”
Qiao Wen sweetly replied, “Oh, how could that be? Everyone knows that the most capable man in the emperor’s presence is none other than you, Andar!”
“After I passed the Internal Affairs Selection, Prince Kang even sent a message through my father—he wanted me to extend his greetings to you personally.”
As she spoke, she gracefully balanced the tea tray with one hand and slipped a silk pouch—containing the hundred-tael silver note—into Liang Jiugong’s palm.
“My father also said that if I am fortunate enough to serve in His Majesty’s presence, I will never forget your kindness. And when you travel outside the palace on duty, rest assured—you will be handsomely rewarded.”
Liang Jiugong skillfully felt the pouch.
It was light, meaning it contained banknotes rather than coins.
Not too thick—likely one hundred taels.
Not bad.
He knew that the real bribes would come later.
If Qiao Wen made it into the emperor’s presence, Prince Kang’s ambitions would ensure thousands upon thousands of taels flowed his way.
After all, he had the power to bring someone into favor—but he also had the power to send someone straight to the Office of Punishments.