Chapter 102: Resolution

The Kangxi Emperor’s sons have been the source of much lively news lately, often endearing themselves to the common folk. Take, for example, the grand campaign led by the Tenth Prince to catch cockroaches, which unwittingly sparked a citywide cleanup throughout Beijing. Housewives in every household turned their homes upside down, scrubbing every shadowed corner until not a speck of dust remained. After a long day’s toil, their husbands returned to a spotless home, feeling an unparalleled comfort that, unintentionally, drew couples closer together in harmony.

Yet, despite such sweeping efforts across the city, the Tenth Prince had not yet handed out even ten taels of gold. Some commoners were unconvinced—how could the cockroaches that had long plagued their homes suddenly vanish? The bolder among them discreetly petitioned the Tenth Prince’s guards for a few days’ grace, suggesting perhaps the cockroaches had recently moved away or were simply not hungry.

The Tenth Prince, ever generous, announced without hesitation, “Anyone who catches a cockroach within ten days may come to me for gold.” Energized by this promise, the entire city soon gleamed with cleanliness.

Meanwhile, the Korean envoys’ faces grew increasingly sullen. One day, unable to bear it any longer, they sought an audience with the Manchu-Han Minister of the Lifan Yuan, bearing generous gifts, and approached the Eighth Prince, who was temporarily managing the Lifan Yuan in place of the Ninth Prince.

At the morning court on the following day, both the Manchu-Han Minister and the Eighth Prince submitted a memorial stating that the Korean envoys admitted their mistake—the deceased woman was not the future Korean princess. Upon hearing this, Kangxi chuckled darkly, glancing at the three standing below with a sly smirk: “So, what you’re saying is, they still claim Yintang committed murder, but it wasn’t the Korean princess?”

The Manchu-Han Minister wiped the cold sweat from his brow, while the Eighth Prince said, “Your Majesty, my Ninth brother is clearly the victim of a frame-up. The Eight Banners competition is about to begin; perhaps the Ninth Prince should attend to this matter first, and after it concludes, Your Majesty can help him clear his name.”

Indeed, although the Ninth Prince was confined within the palace, he was far from idle. He continued refining the arrangements for the Eight Banners competition, passing messages through Mu Jingyuan and Qin Daoran, emissaries from the Fourteenth Prince’s residence. The maids from the Fourteenth Prince’s household also played a role, relaying instructions to Yan Yan to prepare the banquet for the event.

The Fourteenth Prince found the Ninth Prince’s efforts particularly engaging and busied himself alongside him. In truth, the Ninth Prince was not imprisoned but rather given a quieter place to work.

During these days, Kangxi summoned the Ninth Prince multiple times, not once to discuss the murder but always to talk about the Eight Banners competition. All of this did not escape the watchful eyes of the Crown Prince at Yiqing Palace. Furious, the Crown Prince pointed at his incompetent subordinates and roared, “Look at what you’ve done! Hurry and find a way to make amends. If His Majesty finds out, I will have your heads!”

Those kneeling responded cautiously, vowing silently to ensure their master would not be disappointed.

The next day, the Korean envoys of the Lifan Yuan were found dead in the countryside. Rumor had it that, fearing Kangxi’s wrath over their mistaken identification, they attempted a midnight escape back to Korea but were ambushed by bandits and met a tragic end.

Upon hearing this, Kangxi’s expression darkened. He understood that the mastermind behind the scenes had acted decisively to silence them, fearing that any trail might lead to him. Kangxi tapped his desk thoughtfully and sighed deeply.

The Ninth Prince, hearing the news, let out a cold laugh. He looked at the black-clad messenger before him and said softly, “You understand. Go back and tell the Eighth Prince not to act rashly. Tell him that those above see clearly and now intend to respond with calm rather than chaos.”

The messenger nodded cautiously and vanished into the palace. After he disappeared, the Ninth Prince examined the memorial in his hands, feeling the situation had grown increasingly tangled. He needed to gather his thoughts and, most importantly, understand what his father truly intended by suddenly entrusting him with such a task.

Regardless, after several days confined within the palace, the Ninth Prince was finally announced by Kangxi to be free to leave. The women of his household were overjoyed by the news and lined up at the Second Gate to welcome him home.

Though Yan Yan found the whole affair somewhat foolish, the rest had agreed on this plan, and she feared that refusing to participate would seem arrogant. So, steeling herself, she stood among the women, caught up in their excitement.

Yet, as the Ninth Prince strode into the courtyard in his princely ceremonial robes, Yan Yan felt an unexpected warmth in her eyes, a sudden urge to cry welling up within her.

Mechanically, she followed behind Dong’e, joining the other women in bowing with practiced precision. But her gaze never left the Ninth Prince, as if trying to imprint his image upon her heart.

The Ninth Prince, of course, immediately noticed Yan Yan standing behind Dong’e. She wore a striking crimson mandarin-collar garment, her large, expressive eyes shining with deep affection as they looked at him.

Dong’e raised her handkerchief gracefully and said, “Your Highness, greetings.” But the Ninth Prince ignored her entirely, stepping directly to Yan Yan and gently brushing the stray strands of hair from her forehead.

“My lord...” Yan Yan whispered softly.

The Ninth Prince pursed his lips, his voice dropping even lower, “Why are you crying?”

Startled, Yan Yan widened her eyes and touched her face in confusion. Then, pulling a sorrowful expression, she smiled wryly, “I’m not crying. Where would I be crying? I’m happy, alright?”

The Ninth Prince smiled deeply and stretched out his arms, pulling Yan Yan into his embrace. “I know you’re happy. You’re very happy.”

Held tightly by him, Yan Yan’s tension melted away. She clung to his robe and suddenly began to weep aloud, sobbing uncontrollably, startling the Ninth Prince and the women around them.

Dong’e’s eyes darkened instantly, her gaze on Yan Yan turning sharp and fierce.

The Ninth Prince, caught between laughter and concern, patted Yan Yan’s back gently. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Why do you cry so hard?” Yet Yan Yan seemed not to hear his voice, still clutching his robe, crying her heart out.

Yan Yan could not understand why she cried so freely. She hadn’t been overly worried, not truly. She knew deep down the Ninth Prince would be fine. She had even received his instructions for the upcoming tasks. So why did she cry like this? Yet, no matter how much she tried, she simply could not hold back the tears.