He had thrown himself into rigorous horseback training despite the bitter cold, neglecting his studies in the Imperial Academy.
Kangxi initially believed that his son’s determination was a good trait and refrained from intervening, intending to speak with him later once he had calmed down.
That day, Kangxi had planned to summon the Crown Prince to Hongde Hall for a conversation after leaving the Southern Study.
However, no one expected that the Crown Prince would suffer a moment of recklessness—late the previous night, he had secretly indulged in alcohol, throwing a drunken tantrum well into the night.
The palace servants, fearful of punishment, had concealed the incident.
The following day, still under the lingering effects of alcohol, he went for horseback training—only to fall off his horse and break his leg.
By now, the entire imperial court and harem had caught wind of the incident.
At morning court, censors had endlessly condemned the Crown Prince for his misconduct.
Some had even gone as far as to blame the Emperor, declaring, “A son’s failings are the father’s fault. It is His Majesty who has failed to educate the Crown Prince properly.”
Kangxi, already seething, wanted to discipline the Crown Prince.
But the young prince was now sulking in Yuqing Palace as if the sky had collapsed, refusing to eat or drink.
The Grand Empress Dowager had intervened, instructing Kangxi not to scold him yet, fearing that the child might break under the pressure.
To make matters worse, Songgotu—acting as the Crown Prince’s maternal grandfather—had taken it upon himself to plead the boy’s case, persistently blaming the Eldest Prince and lamenting how the poor child had lost his mother.
This enraged Kangxi to the point where he hurled a fine porcelain teacup at Songgotu, the shattered pieces gashing his forehead.
Liang Jiugong and Li Dequan had witnessed it firsthand.
Since then, they had been on high alert, keeping a close eye on every development in Yuqing Palace.
At any moment, the Emperor could demand an update.
If they failed to provide a satisfactory answer, a brutal beating was practically guaranteed.
***
As soon as Li Dequan left, Qiao Wen busied herself immediately.
Having worked in the Imperial Tea Room for over a year, her tea-brewing skills were seamless.
But just before she poured the Yuquan Mountain water into the tea cup, she gritted her teeth and pressed the back of her hand firmly against the scalding teapot.
“Hiss…” A suppressed gasp of pain escaped her lips.
With teary eyes, she turned to Fang He.
“Fang He, I burned my hand. I fear it would be disrespectful to serve His Majesty like this. Ru Yue isn’t back yet, and since I took care of you a few days ago, can you deliver the tea for me?”
Each type of tea required different water temperatures, but the Emperor could not be kept waiting while fresh water was boiled.
The Imperial Tea Room maintained a constant fire, with kettles placed near different water clocks to gauge their temperature.
Earlier, when Fang He had placed a freshly boiled kettle aside, she had noticed Qiao Wen glancing at it several times—she already had a guess about what was coming.
Although the original host had rarely served inside Qianqing Palace, as an Imperial Tea Room maid, she had studied all the rules.
If duty called, she had no choice but to go, even if it meant walking straight into the tiger’s den.
Sigh.
Fang He kept her gaze lowered, slowly rising to her feet and walking over to Qiao Wen.
“You—”
Before she could speak, Qiao Wen shoved the tray into her hands, leaving no room for refusal.
“Thank you, Fang He. Hurry and serve the tea—if we delay His Majesty’s tea, our lives won’t be enough to compensate!”
Fang He swallowed back the herbal ash remedy she had been about to suggest for Qiao Wen’s burn.
If the girl was so eager to send her to her death, she wasn’t going to be kind enough to stop her.
The Imperial Tea Room was right beside Zhaoren Hall, less than a hundred meters away along the covered corridor.
Following the rule of “Serving with caution,” Fang He balanced the tea tray level with her chest.
As soon as she stepped out, she saw Liang Jiugong standing at the door, his gaze sharp enough to cut.
By the usual standards, the tea was already late.
Fang He lowered her head even further, choosing to pretend she didn’t see him.
She walked quickly but steadily toward what could be the turning point of her life.
If she survived, a husband and child might be in her future.
If she didn’t, she’d have her pick between a cremation urn or a nameless grave.
To be honest, Fang He was terrified of death.
But her heartbeat stayed calm and steady—after all, she’d already been hit in the head before.
She mentally complained, wondering if the legendary Emperor Kangxi could really be worse than the two drunken idiots who had caused her to time travel.
Seeing the palace maid with her head practically buried in the tea tray, Liang Jiugong’s anger nearly matched the Emperor’s inside the hall.
He strode forward and snapped at her in a low voice, “Are you new here? The palace is practically on fire, and you’re this slow?
I need to have a word with Qin Gugu about how she picks her maids. If you want to die, don’t drag me down with you! Hurry up!”
Fang He considered ignoring him, but she couldn’t resist a little petty rebellion.
She whispered, “Qin Gugu taught us that palace maids must hand over the tea to the eunuch inside. Without reason, we are not allowed to—”
“Enough with the nonsense!” Liang Jiugong cut her off directly.
“Just go in! If you make His Majesty wait any longer, I’ll have your skin peeled off!”
Did he have no sense at all?
Didn’t he realize that anyone who went in there was doomed?
Kangxi needed somewhere to vent his rage before going to bed—and Liang Jiugong intended for her to be the target.
He, after all, still needed to stay alive to serve the Emperor.
Fang He smirked inwardly, fully understanding his intentions.
But she had no choice.
So, she “trembled” slightly, lowered her head even further, and tiptoed into Zhaoren Hall.
Right before stepping inside, she took a deep breath, lifting her heel slightly, stepping in on tiptoe.
Zhaoren Hall
Though technically Kangxi’s sleeping quarters, the main hall housed a large imperial desk, occasionally used for handling government affairs.
The side chambers were used for rest.
The moment Fang He entered, she kept her head down, but in her peripheral vision, she saw a tall, imposing figure sitting sideways on a Luohan couch by the window.
One long leg rested on the floor, while the other was bent, supporting an open book of chess strategies on his knee.
She couldn’t see his face, but from the broad shoulders and long legs, it was clear—this was a very tall man.
They say that people who study chess are more rational than emotional.
Perhaps this great Emperor thought he could digest his anger on his own.
After all, he was known as the most emotionally intelligent ruler of the Qing dynasty.
Fang He felt slightly relieved at that thought.
She adjusted her steps, making sure to keep her pace light but deliberate—not completely silent, but steady, as if every step had been measured in advance.
Kangxi had already heard someone enter.
Realizing it wasn’t Liang Jiugong, he half-lifted his eyes, casting a brief glance.
Upon seeing it was just a tea-serving palace maid, he lost interest and looked away.
From the moment Fang He entered to the moment she reached the Luohan couch, her footsteps remained unchanged—light, stable, and controlled.
She stopped precisely at the correct spot, gracefully placing the tea tray within his peripheral vision, quick but unhurried.
After setting down the tea, she held the tray under her elbow, maintaining the same even rhythm as before.
She carefully backed away, turned at the right moment, and continued retreating toward the hall entrance.
In her eyes, a trace of satisfaction flickered.
She had served VIP clients in luxury hotels before and knew how powerful people operated.
High-ranking figures hated sudden movements.
As long as her pace remained consistent, blending into the ambient white noise, and she stayed within his visual frame, she could likely become invisible, unnoticed—a mere background prop.
After all, she had been the only service champion in her hotel’s history to rise from waitress to front-desk manager.
This was nothing.
Just as she was about to step out of the hall, she exhaled quietly, finally releasing the breath she had been holding—
“Come back.”
A deep, slightly hoarse voice resonated through the hall.
Fang He froze mid-step, her breath catching in her throat.