This was her only confrontation with the stern nanny, leaving Nanny Li wide-eyed and powerless. After all, she was the master and a Grand Princess, on equal footing with the Emperor himself. Even invoking family law would require considerable courage.
When people grew up, their hearts grew too, becoming disobedient—it was inevitable. For the stern nannies, wielding chicken feathers as commanding arrows only worked while these masters remained ignorant. Once they came of age with their own opinions, if they found the nannies disagreeable, they could still dismiss them. Masters were masters after all. What they hadn’t expected was that the Princess had such a temperament—barely thirteen or fourteen and already beyond their control. Their hopes of following her when she married and serving as dowry servants would likely prove difficult.
Nanny Li’s bucket of water had been poured on sandy ground without leaving the slightest trace. Once she left, Xiao You came back to life, grinning with joy: “Our master is still the most capable! Rather than confronting her directly, it’s better to let her exert force with nowhere to apply it. She was fuming there while our master, hungry and tired, ignored her completely—that hurts more than slapping her face.”
Wanwan removed her hat and tossed it on the desk: “As I always say, turn big problems into small ones, small problems into nothing—how wonderful. The Empress Dowager is hosting a grand banquet for officials at Huangji Hall right now. How would she know about our affairs here? If she makes a fuss, involving Cining Palace and the Palace Ceremonial Department, what good would spreading it around do? These nannies are usually like queen mothers, accustomed to throwing their weight around in the palace. The more you respect them, the more presumptuous they become.” She spoke quite cheerfully, but turning to think about tomorrow, she encountered difficulty again: “The Factory Minister just said he’d settle accounts with me tomorrow. We may have escaped Nanny Li’s tribulation, but we can’t avoid the Factory Minister’s judgment.”
Xiao You was also dispirited: “Tomorrow will be the death date for this servant and Wuqi. Master, will you just watch us die?”
This incident was indeed her idea, with Xiao You and Wuqi only accomplices. Although a master’s mistakes would very likely be blamed on subordinates, this was too outrageous—their two small lives combined might not be enough to compensate. If she shrank back, she could only watch them be executed.
She patted Xiao You’s shoulder: “Don’t worry. Tomorrow I’ll find a way to speak well for you both.”
Xiao You knew her courage, and even with this assurance, couldn’t truly believe her: “When the time comes, you can’t play deaf and mute. Our lives are entirely in your hands.”
Wanwan told her to rest assured. Although her fear of Junior Supervisor Xiao was no less than her fear of Nanny Li, with lives at stake, she would have to speak up even if it meant steeling herself.
Having been caught in the rain earlier, the outside ordeal was unpleasant, but now back home, changed into clean clothes and sitting in warm bedding, her whole body felt relaxed. She held a cup of milk tea, sipping it in small mouthfuls, thinking of Prince Nanyuan, and quietly asked Xiao You: “Did you see that Yuwen Liang Shi?”
Xiao You was trimming lamp wicks and hummed: “Prince Nanyuan? This servant didn’t see him.” She put down the scissors and came over to inquire: “What does he look like? Tell me quickly—are his eyes like copper bells and ears like banana leaves?”
Wanwan suddenly realized many versions of Prince Nanyuan’s appearance had circulated in Yude Palace, some from her own hand and others completely fabricated by the servants. Thinking about it now, she felt quite sorry for that prince. Embarrassed, she pressed her hand on the bedcover, her fingers fidgeting aimlessly, mumbling vaguely: “Actually… his appearance isn’t that frightening. Everything before was just our wild guessing. When I saw him, I kept feeling he resembled Junior Supervisor Xiao somehow—not the facial features, but the bearing and demeanor.”
Xiao You was more concerned with the face: “This servant just wants to know if his nose and eyes are where they should be.”
“Naturally they are. He’s very handsome, with clear brows and bright eyes.” As Wanwan spoke, she drew a circle with her hand: “There’s a golden ring in his eyes, like the halo around the sun before a great wind. Do you know that kind of thing? Like a rainbow, but it’s round and more resilient than a rainbow.”
Xiao You listened in confusion: “A ring inside the eyes? That’s double pupils! Two eyeballs in one socket—one on the left and another on the right.”
Wanwan had long known they could never see eye to eye. Usually she avoided arguing with her, but this time she needed to explain. She straightened herself and looked at her very sincerely: “Xiao You, it’s a hollow ring, right in the black pupils, not outside, and certainly not one left and one right. Think of it as beautiful—eyes that can emit light, that can dazzle you when they look at you.”
Xiao You’s limited imagination couldn’t conjure such a miraculous scene. She only thought eyes that could emit light were probably like the leopards raised in the Imperial Stables—quite frightening. But seeing the Grand Princess’s high spirits, she could only laugh along halfheartedly: “How truly extraordinary… Neither Han nor Xianbei people are like that. Quite distinctive indeed.”
Wanwan cupped her cheek, leaning against the cushion and murmuring: “He even complained, saying people misunderstood the Qi people and treated them like monsters. Thinking about it, they’re quite pitiful too—clearly human in appearance, yet somehow gaining such a bad reputation.”
Xiao You felt this wasn’t the time to worry about others—taking care of themselves first was proper. She couldn’t sleep peacefully all night, and the next day when she saw Wuqi, both were trembling, just waiting for Junior Supervisor Xiao to pronounce judgment. Usually the Palace Ceremonial Department was busy in the morning and only free in the late afternoon, but today was different—Junior Supervisor Xiao arrived before noon. At that moment the Grand Princess was preparing for her midday meal, with eunuchs carrying food trays sheltered by small umbrellas filing in, the eight golden bells on the umbrella ribs chiming as Junior Supervisor Xiao entered the front hall amid the commotion.
Wanwan wore a scarf with cups, plates, bowls, and saucers all arranged before her. Seeing him enter, she immediately lost her appetite. Xiao You and Wuqi huddled close to her like frightened rabbits. Before she could speak, he waved away all the meal attendants, leaving only the four of them in the hall—clearly ready for a final reckoning.
“Going… going to Xihua Gate to join the excitement was my idea.” She spoke somewhat haltingly but bravely stepped forward, pointing at Xiao You and Wuqi: “Don’t punish them—punish me instead.”
Junior Supervisor Xiao frowned: “Just letting their master take the blame is enough to flay them twice over.”
Xiao You and Wuqi knelt down, continuously kowtowing: “It’s this servant’s fault. Please forgive us, Junior Supervisor Xiao. Spare us this once!”
Unfortunately, Wanwan’s theory that keeping quiet would make problems disappear was completely ineffective with the Palace Ceremonial Department. Junior Supervisor Xiao looked at them coldly, his voice icy: “There were so many eyes in the front court. I alone can’t suppress this. The news may have already reached Cining Palace. The Empress Dowager’s inaction doesn’t mean she’s uninformed—she’s watching how I handle this. If Your Highness protects them and the Empress Dowager later punishes personally, not only will they be unable to escape, but Your Highness will also be implicated.” He then bowed to Wanwan: “Please entrust them to this minister. This minister will feel more at ease if Your Highness has steady, experienced servants attending you.”
This was expected—none of them were easy to deal with—but Xiao Duo’s lack of human feeling truly chilled her heart. Her anger surged like a mountain: “I have only two people I can trust, and the Factory Minister wants to take them away too?”
He bowed even deeper: “Your Highness didn’t heed His Majesty’s advice, so even this minister is powerless.”
Wanwan paused: “His Majesty only instructed me not to provoke Prince Nanyuan. How have I disobeyed him?”
But she didn’t understand that sometimes, once you caught someone’s attention, even if you didn’t think of them, they thought of you—who told her she was Daye’s only princess?
Junior Supervisor Xiao looked troubled: “If Your Highness trusts this minister, this minister guarantees their safety. But if someone else handles this, whether they can keep their lives then, this minister dare not guarantee.”
This was the Grand Princess—often beyond her own control. No matter how exalted her position, palace rules were strict. Consorts had to obey them, and so did she. She had to carefully consider his words, weighing both sides to determine how best to save them. Keeping them was probably impossible now. Perhaps Xiao Duo came bearing the Empress Dowager’s decree—she had made a mistake and must pay this price to warn her against repeating it. She was powerless now and asked dejectedly: “Can the Factory Minister promise me they won’t suffer?”
Junior Supervisor Xiao said yes: “Please rest assured, Your Highness.”
When Xiao You and Wuqi were taken away, she didn’t even have the courage to look at them again. Having such a master was their misfortune.
That last bit of spirit was extinguished, and Wanwan was reforged into perfect stability. What they called imperial bearing—wasn’t it just lifeless stagnation? After Xiao You left, a palace maid named Tonghuan came, older than her and very steady. Wanwan felt she had great potential to become a stern nanny in the future. Her virtue lay in speaking little, and even when she did, every sentence was deeply considered, so there were basically no errors. Phrases like “Master, what should we do?” that Xiao You constantly had on her lips completely disappeared with her. She could handle all sudden situations around her very well, so when Junior Supervisor Xiao became Chief Xiao and no longer managed Yude Palace affairs at all, everything still ran in perfect order.
Spring for flower viewing, autumn for scenery—living without major faults or surprises. Wanwan grew accustomed to adapting to circumstances, accepting whatever arrangements came at each stage. She thought no more variables would arise, but life constantly encountered obstacles and narrow paths. Many things could be anticipated, but the one thing unexpected was that such a young emperor would suddenly be beyond medical help and pass away within two months.
In the eleventh year of Longhua, it rained for so long that the walls of Yude Palace sprouted scattered mold spots, making even people appear damp. When Wanwan received news of the Emperor’s serious illness, she went to Yangxin Hall to see him once, but Xiao Duo secretly warned her that the sickness was contagious and wouldn’t let her approach the bed. After returning, she remained anxious, sleeping very restlessly at night. Suddenly hearing the striking of cloud boards in the corridor, she hurriedly sat up, cold spreading through her as she shook uncontrollably.
Tonghuan entered with a lamp lit. Hugging her knees, she asked: “How is it?”
Tonghuan’s face was full of sorrow: “Your Highness, His Majesty has passed away.”
She lay back down, suddenly feeling the road ahead was vast and unclear. Her elder brother had left, gone to enjoy blessings, leaving behind such a mess—what could be done? Prince Rong was still small, not yet six years old. Court affairs would likely fall to Empress Zhao. She was still Grand Princess now, but before long would be Great Grand Princess. Thinking carefully, the future seemed desolate and even more lonely and helpless.
The candle wept rivers on its copper holder. Tonghuan brought mourning clothes to change her into, saying: “Right now it’s just preliminary notification. After the minor laying-out he’ll rest in Jinshen Hall. The mourning bell won’t toll until dawn.” She put on a mourning coiffure, secured with plain silver hairpins, and earnestly advised: “Your Highness must not grieve excessively. This is precisely a time of wind and clouds meeting—let everything follow its natural course.”
Wanwan looked up at her: “What do you mean?”
Tonghuan’s lips twitched slightly: “This servant’s time serving hasn’t been short—from entering the palace at eight until today, a full fifteen years. I’ve seen much and experienced much, knowing what should be avoided at such times. You are true imperial blood—no one can shake your position even unto heaven. You have your future and will leave this Forbidden City sooner or later, so keeping a low profile now and managing nothing is best.”
She felt somewhat numb, her heart tangled like hemp, unable to ponder the meaning in those words, only nodding.