Over these two years, through Wei Caiwei’s careful conditioning, Li Jiubao had cured her palace cold syndrome. Last December, when Li Jiubao’s monthly flow didn’t come, Wei Caiwei examined her and detected the pregnancy pulse.
Prince Yu’s mansion hadn’t heard an infant’s cry for several years. Both Prince Yu and Princess Yu watched Li Jiubao’s belly, hoping she could bear a son in one stroke, so the imperial main bloodline would have an heir.
In Prince Yu’s mansion, Li Jiubao had a rosy complexion, lying in bed. Princess Yu, an excellent household manager, had prepared everything and even hung bows and arrows on all the doors to welcome the new life.
Wei Caiwei felt her belly and examined the birth canal, saying, “Don’t be anxious. It’s still early. Everyone go rest.”
Because Wei Caiwei had instructed Li Jiubao to control her diet, not eat too much, and walk frequently for easier delivery, aside from her enlarged belly and gaining a couple taels of flesh on her chest and buttocks, Li Jiubao hadn’t gotten fat. Holding her big belly, she said:
“The children in the prince’s mansion have died one after another. Because the children’s funerals weren’t dignified, the Prince has had many disputes with His Majesty, angering the Emperor. Now that I’m about to give birth, the Prince doesn’t dare enter the palace to tell His Majesty. This child I’m bearing will probably have to wait until it’s firmly established before His Majesty knows.”
Every mother hopes her child will be welcomed and blessed from birth, but being born into the imperial family makes even this a luxury.
Wei Caiwei comforted her: “Don’t think too much. This isn’t something you can control. Just rest peacefully. Tomorrow when you’re giving birth, you won’t be able to sleep even if you want to. At this time, nothing is more important than mother and child being safe.”
Pregnant women about to give birth can’t sleep deeply. Even turning over is difficult, and they wake repeatedly from dull pains. By the next day at noon, the labor pains became frequent. Wei Caiwei was still “cruel” enough to have two strong servant women support Li Jiubao walking around the room.
Li Jiubao was in so much pain her undergarments were soaked with sweat. Wei Caiwei insisted she quickly wash her hair and bathe. Everyone watched with heartache—if not for Princess Yu and Li Jiubao’s firm trust in Wei Caiwei, this female doctor would likely have been driven out.
By nightfall, Li Jiubao couldn’t walk anymore. Wei Caiwei told her not to restrain herself and eat freely—the real battle was coming.
At first, Li Jiubao could still hold back from crying out, but later she wailed continuously, the pain so intense her soul seemed squeezed from her body.
Wei Caiwei wiped her sweat and comforted her: “First births are difficult—they’re all like this. The second and third births will be easier.”
Though she said this, Wei Caiwei had no experience being a mother in her previous life—she didn’t know either. Watching Li Jiubao struggle on the birthing bed, she couldn’t help but project herself into the situation. In this lifetime, she should be able to bear her own child… Whether male or female, the child could look like Wang Daxia, but hopefully not inherit his personality. Just thinking about a troublesome child gave her a headache.
Past midnight, with the bright moon shining, a cry pierced the night sky.
Prince Yu’s mansion welcomed a baby boy.
Prince Yu had been in the ancestral hall praying before his wives’ and children’s memorial tablets. Hearing this good news, he was first happy, then fearful. The grief of losing two sons and one daughter consecutively weighed on his heart. After just a few glances, he had the wet nurse take his son away.
Newborn babies all look similar regardless of gender. Seeing his son, Prince Yu’s mind filled with images of his deceased children, and overwhelming bitterness surged through his heart.
His expression was indifferent, but inwardly he kept praying silently: This child must survive—I can’t lose another one.
Princess Yu said, “Li Xuanshi has given birth to an imperial grandson, contributing to continuing the imperial lineage. She should be promoted in rank.”
Prince Yu, thinking of his deceased children’s fate, said: “To promote her rank, we’d have to inform the Imperial Clan Court of Li Xuanshi giving birth to imperial heir. The Imperial Clan Court would definitely report to His Majesty for formal investiture. Then both the imperial family and court would know. Some court ministers would surely use the fact that I already have an heir to again raise the matter of establishing the heir apparent. But His Majesty has always refused to establish a crown prince, claiming two dragons cannot meet. The ministers would certainly have people speak directly, His Majesty would rage, the court would be in turmoil, and His Majesty would ultimately blame me. Whatever I do, he’ll reject it.”
“My previous children, because His Majesty disliked them—I repeatedly requested according to ancestral rules to enfeoff them as princes and princesses, but the Imperial Clan Court, reading His Majesty’s mood, always let matters drag on. They were delayed in receiving investiture, all because I, their unloved father, implicated the children.”
In October of Jiajing’s thirty-fourth year, when Prince Yu’s first son—also Emperor Jiajing’s first grandson—was born, the entire court celebrated with great joy. The Ministry of Rites, following protocol, requested announcement at the Imperial Ancestral Temple, suburban temples, and altars, with civil and military officials wearing auspicious robes for congratulations, and proclamation throughout the realm.
But Emperor Jiajing rejected the Ministry of Rites’ request, saying there was no need to announce at the Imperial Ancestral Temple, no need for proclamation throughout the realm, no need for officials’ congratulations—just informing the ancestors at Fengxian Hall and Jibao Hall would suffice.
Later, when Prince Yu had another son, an old palace maid who had served Prince Yu’s mother, Imperial Concubine Du Kang, boldly congratulated Emperor Jiajing, saying the imperial family had added new members.
Emperor Jiajing was not only displeased but furious, scolding the palace maid for impropriety. The maid was so frightened her legs trembled. Fortunately, by then Emperor Jiajing had stopped taking “red pills”—those potent elixirs—and no longer went mad beating and scolding palace servants, or the old maid would have died on the spot.
After this incident, imperial heirs became taboo, and no one in the palace dared mention Prince Yu’s mansion affairs.
Princess Yu also worried, “Having born a son, we still must hide it. But imperial heirs have a hair-cutting ceremony at one month, with the hair sent to Fengxian Hall to inform the ancestors the imperial family has descendants. We can’t cut it ourselves—rituals cannot be abandoned. Li Xuanshi worked so hard to bear a son; he can’t go unrecognized.”
The imperial grandson’s one-month hair-cutting ceremony was extremely important. The palace would send a highly respected high-ranking female official to the prince’s mansion to cut the imperial grandson’s hair, showing the Emperor acknowledged the grandchild’s bloodline. Back then, despite Emperor Jiajing’s indifference to his grandchildren—even fury—he still sent female officials to Prince Yu’s mansion to cut his grandsons’ and granddaughters’ hair at one month.
Prince Yu thought: “Then let’s not cut the hair first. We’ll wait until His Majesty is in a good mood about something.”
Princess Yu said: “Neither you nor I can enter the palace—heaven knows His Majesty’s mood.”
Prince Yu’s gaze fell on Wei Caiwei, who was washing her hands. “Doctor Wei is close to Shang Zhaoyi. I hear that in the palace, only Shang Zhaoyi can make His Majesty happy.”
Prince Yu, who usually ignored mundane matters, broke precedent by giving Wei Caiwei a large red envelope for his son’s sake. A prince of the first rank, swallowing his pride, explained Prince Yu mansion’s current difficulties: “…I hope Doctor Wei will take great pains on our behalf.”
This red envelope was indeed heavy. That Emperor Jiajing would rage upon hearing news of Prince Yu’s heirs was known to everyone.
However, Wei Caiwei still accepted it, saying: “This matter requires time and the right opportunity. Please be patient, Your Highness.”
Wei Caiwei knew this carried risks, but it was the best opportunity to establish good relations between Prince Yu’s mansion and Shang Qinglan. Emperor Jiajing was old—according to her previous life, Emperor Jiajing’s reign had only three years left.
Three years later, Shang Qinglan would only be eighteen, with a long road ahead. For her to continue living freely in the harem, she must maintain good relations with future emperors.
In this world, there’s no love or hate without reason—it’s all human relations and equivalent exchange. If Shang Qinglan wanted good days in the future, she must first do something for Prince Yu’s mansion.
Prince Yu expected Wei Caiwei to at least demur, but she accepted the red envelope so readily—this showed great confidence! It seemed he’d found the right person.
Li Jiubao and her son were safe. The next day, she could walk with support. Wei Caiwei taught her to wrap her abdomen with cloth strips to quickly reduce the belly and restore her figure. She also taught her exercises to smooth abdominal wrinkles and sagging flesh, and prepared topical medicine to apply to pregnancy spots on her face for quick fading.
In short, she tried every method to help Li Jiubao regain favor.
Prince Yu’s love had burned out in the most tragic way after his first wife, the former Princess Yu, died. Now he had no feelings for any wives or concubines.
Li Jiubao was currently definitely relying on beauty to serve. Having borne a son, she still had to hide it like a thief, couldn’t be promoted in rank, and still had to rely on beauty to compete for a second child, or Prince Yu would forget her. For women born to the lower classes, only beauty and the womb were capital.
While Wei Caiwei was busy running around, Wang Daxia wasn’t idle either. He set out a table of food and wine, inviting Commander Mu to dinner. Since Wang Qianhu had taken his younger son to his posting in Jiangxi, only these two grown men lived in the Wang mansion—like father and son, teacher and friend.
Commander Mu joked: “Showing courtesy without cause—do you have something you need my help with? Too late now—you went to accompany the neighbor for Mid-Autumn Festival instead of me. I’m unhappy.”
Wang Daxia chuckled as he poured wine for Commander Mu, handing over the cup with both hands: “Didn’t I accompany you for lunch on Mid-Autumn Festival first? You understand me best—I indeed have a request, concerning my lifelong happiness.”
“Marriage is a major matter requiring parental command and matchmaker’s words. My father is far away in Jiangxi, and he’s old-fashioned. I fear he won’t agree, so I want to ask Uncle Mu to be a matchmaker—first to persuade my father to nod approval, second to help with the marriage proposal. The three letters and six rites must all be properly arranged.”
This startled Commander Mu so much he nearly dropped his wine cup, blurting out: “The little widow next door is pregnant?”
Since Wang Qianhu left, Wang Daxia had been going in and out of his neighbor’s house even more brazenly. Having watched the child grow up, Commander Mu knew his feelings well. But Wang Daxia’s sudden initiative to break through the window paper made Commander Mu think in the wrong direction.
Wang Daxia first startled, then became both embarrassed and angry: “What is Uncle Mu saying? We’re both proper people with no improper behavior. I’m seventeen this year, of proper marriage age. I’ve saved money these three years—enough to buy a three-courtyard house. I’ve also been promoted to Battalion Commander. I just need to marry a wife. Doctor Wei and I are mutually affectionate, and I want to marry her properly.”
Commander Mu pondered: “This… Doctor Wei’s character and abilities go without saying. Her only flaw is being a widow with a bad reputation outside. If you marry her, many people will point fingers and gossip—you won’t have peace.”
Wang Daxia said: “We don’t care how the world sees us. They wouldn’t dare say it to our faces anyway. We’ll close our doors and live our small life, managing through spring, summer, autumn, and winter.”
The last time someone publicly humiliated Wei Caiwei—Wu Lianchi, Bu Yaolian, and Lu Renjia—Wang Daxia had stripped them naked and paraded them through the streets in the rain, making them “famous.”
Commander Mu knew Wang Daxia’s decisive character best, saying: “Regarding your father, I’ll write to mediate for you both. Actually, with your close contact with your neighbor, he’s long been suspicious, thinking you’re young and impulsive, seeking temporary novelty that will pass. Since you’re determined to marry, even if he’s very dissatisfied, your father probably won’t use the price of father-son estrangement to oppose this marriage. Besides, he’s in Jiangxi—out of sight, out of mind. He should agree.”
Wang Daxia immediately knelt down: “Thank you, Uncle Mu, for your fulfillment.”
Author’s Note: The three-year promise expires on the twenty-third day of the eighth month—soon.