[The author impulsively started this story and won't be writing it, so please don't bookmark it]
For the first three days after transmigrating, Tong Jia Wanyue nearly suffered a nervous breakdown from all the voices in the palace.
While getting ready in the morning, Consort Hui plotted to steal Consort Rong's snail-dye ink. Over breakfast, Consort Xi was thinking about skimming the maids' monthly wages. Even the sparrows in the imperial garden were chirping, [Those melon seeds in the cracks of the stone lantern fell from Consort De yesterday.]
The young mistress spent her days dozing with a hand warmer tucked in her sleeves, the gold-and-jade hairpin in her hair swaying whenever she yawned. Her governess, exasperated, told her, "You should learn from Consort Yi!" Wanyue barely lifted an eyelid. Consort Yi to her left was plotting to intercept the emperor, while Consort An to her right was debating whether to add a bowl of bird's nest soup to dinner. This gossip was far more entertaining than any storybook.
Three years later, the women of the six palaces realized that the lady of Chengqian Palace was quite the odd one.
Just as Nala had struck a pose to fake a miscarriage in the imperial garden, Wanyue was crouching behind a rockery, counting ants.
The moment Ma Jia slipped something into Consort An's tea, Wanyue just happened to stroll by humming a tune and knock over the teacup.
Whenever Kangxi visited, he found storybooks piled on her desk, with crumbs from candied fruit scattered over Strategies for Pacifying the Three Feudatories. She even figured out that Wu Sangui was short on provisions before the grand secretaries did.
They said she had been frail since childhood and wouldn't live long, but the concubines of the six palaces waited and waited, and still couldn't outlast her.
The court historian chewed on his brush in frustration. Weren't they supposed to say she was frail and sickly? How had this mistress turned the title of Noble Consort into a guaranteed lifetime appointment, fueled by milk pastry rolls from the palace bakery and gossip from the imperial garden? The eunuchs on duty at the Qianqing Palace knew the truth. Whenever the emperor reviewed memorials, there were always two plates of snacks on his desk: one of milk pastry rolls and one of donkey rolls.
*She becomes his one and only in the later chapters.
Theme: No matter where you are, you have to live well
