"My dear daughter, how have things been in the palace these days? Has anyone dared to mistreat you? And how has Imperial Consort Yi been treating you?" Almost as soon as An Ning stepped down from the carriage, she found herself tightly embraced by an elegant noblewoman who carefully examined her from head to toe. Seeing that An Ning appeared normal aside from some fatigue, Madam Donggo finally relaxed slightly.
Holding her daughter's hand, she led the large entourage into the mansion. As a proper noblewoman of the Aisin Gioro clan, Madam Donggo carried herself with inherent confidence and spoke about palace matters without much reservation.
Even Donggo Qishi, who had been waiting in the main hall, set down his teacup and spoke gruffly: "That's right, my dear. Don't worry—even if it's someone from the palace, our family isn't some helpless commoners who can be bullied. So what if they're imperial princes? We don't need anything from them. Even if you do marry into their family someday, you don't have to lower yourself or endure humiliation."
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Madam Aisin Gioro shot him a glare as his words grew increasingly inappropriate. Some thoughts were better kept to oneself!
The look successfully silenced the towering Donggo Qishi, who could only sulkily gulp his tea. The finest Biluochun tea was wasted as he drank it like cheap liquor.
Watching her parents bicker from the safety of her mother's arms, An Ning couldn't help but smile faintly before adopting her original host's tone: "Father, Mother, don't worry. During my time in the palace, Imperial Consort Yi has been very kind to me."
This wasn't a lie—regardless of the reason, Imperial Consort Yi had indeed been courteous to her original host recently. Seeing their daughter's relaxed expression, the couple finally set their worries aside.
Donggo Qishi's temper wasn't without cause. While imperial selections were nominally decided on the spot, for noblewomen of their status, it was merely a formality—their fates were predetermined as long as they were healthy and presentable. An Ning's current body was no exception; Emperor Kangxi had already hinted at the arrangement months prior.
Having a daughter marry an imperial prince—was Donggo Qishi pleased? Hell no! Just look at how the previous princess consorts lived—each household packed with side consorts, concubines, and endless streams of illegitimate children. There was even the disgraceful matter of elder illegitimate sons.
Donggo Qishi's earlier rant might well have been aimed at the eldest princess consort's family. Though her father held the prestigious position of Minister of Personnel, their branch had only produced one competent official in generations—Kelkun—making them appear weak. Worst of all, their spinelessness invited contempt.
Their daughter was bullied relentlessly in the palace, yet they dared not speak up—instead groveling for favor. Donggo Qishi found this utterly despicable. With his daughter's status, she would never suffer mistreatment in any other household—except the imperial family. No wonder he was fuming.
For others, becoming a princess consort might be the highest honor, but for the Donggo family, it was at best a decorative flourish—hardly worth their precious daughter's suffering. To be blunt, it wasn't worth it.
Moreover, the Ninth Prince showed little promise and didn't seem particularly favored by the emperor. Truth be told, ever since receiving the news, the couple had been less than thrilled about this marriage.
After more lengthy conversation and considering their daughter's journey, Madam Aisin Gioro didn't delay too long. She soon had servants prepare bathwater. Pampered by her maids, An Ning enjoyed a thorough wash and massage before comfortably settling into bed.
As expected, the imperial decree arrived the next day. Having anticipated this, the Donggo family received it with proper reverence and feigned celebration. That night, however, the parents returned to An Ning's chambers for another long talk—rambling about their family's glorious history and current standing.
The message was clear: even if marrying into royalty, they wouldn't cower before some powerless prince. Their dear daughter need never swallow her pride!
Nestled in Madam Aisin Gioro's ample embrace, An Ning grew increasingly understanding of her original host's resentment while looking forward to her own comfortable future.
With such status, raised in luxury and doting affection—had her husband been reliable or her circumstances less unfortunate, her life wouldn't have turned so bleak. Worse still, it affected her family, hindering her relatives' careers. The original host had even been relieved that her parents passed away beforehand, sparing them constant worry.
In the following days, An Ning maintained her original host's habits—reading, painting, occasionally riding with friends or shopping. Life remained splendid.
Strangely enough, while Donggo men were mostly rough-mannered and their wives forthright, Donggo women were exceptionally cultured. Distant relatives included the renowned Imperial Noble Consort Donggo (though their branches had diverged). Closer examples included her cousin—Third Princess Consort—and even her original host, all belonging to the rare scholarly Manchu elite.
Satisfied with her nearly finished painting, An Ning set down her brush. Maids promptly cleared the supplies and served refreshments.
Days passed uneventfully. Just when the system thought its host had truly changed—content to lounge and occasionally venture out without even attempting "chance" encounters—sudden news came from the palace: the Eighth and Ninth Princes had fallen gravely ill.