Chapter 9: Chapter 9

"In the south there is a crooked tree, with vines clinging to it. Happy is the noble man, may blessings comfort him.

In the south there is a crooked tree, with vines covering it. Happy is the noble man, may blessings support him......"

Under the dim lamplight, a man dressed in dark brocade robes held a visibly pregnant beautiful woman in one arm while holding a book in the other, reciting poetry in a measured tone.

As for the person involved, An Ning...

An Ning felt drowsy listening to this, her head muddled. After a long while, she blearily raised her head: "My lord, it's so late already, perhaps we should rest first."

"The little one in my belly probably doesn't enjoy listening to this anyway!" she shamelessly added.

Several months had passed in the blink of an eye. The baby in An Ning's belly was now over nine months along. A month ago, the imperial physician had determined there was an eighty percent chance it would be a little prince.

To tell the truth, several months earlier when the baby was about five months along, the child had kicked once when this man was reciting poetry. From then on, An Ning's suffering had begun. Perhaps thinking his son enjoyed listening, the child's father would recite passages every day when he visited.

At first, An Ning had found it amusing, thinking it good for fostering father-child bonding and the child's literary cultivation. But as time passed, while the reciter never grew tired of it, she as the listener had become thoroughly sick of it.

Hearing his companion's words, Prince Zhuang, who had been about to continue with the next passage, felt his throat constrict. After a long pause, he sighed lightly and slowly put down the book in his hand: "Very well, I'll stop for now. But it's still early, and the imperial physician said you've been sleeping too much lately."

"Shall I accompany you for a walk in the garden? The hot spring estate sent over several black chrysanthemums recently, they're still in the greenhouse."

Knowing he was concerned about her lack of movement lately, An Ning lazily agreed. There was no helping it - her constitution was such that she became particularly lazy in winter, especially now when it had just snowed and everything was bitterly cold and bare, with nothing pleasant to see.

As for the several matrons, since the ice and snow outside hadn't completely melted yet, they were probably worried she might slip and fall. They usually didn't dare urge her to go out much, only supporting her for short walks indoors.

Thinking about it, her own life was more important. Although the so-called Birth Easing Pill guaranteed a smooth delivery, and she indeed hadn't experienced any adverse reactions during this pregnancy, what if...?

At this thought, An Ning stopped being lazy and scrambled up from the couch: "I'll get up right now!"

Hearing the commotion, Suwen and others outside hurried in with a thick fox fur cloak, wrapping An Ning and her nine-month pregnant belly up tightly, leaving only a small face about half the size of a palm exposed.

Though it was said the two would stroll together, in reality there were special attendants clearing the path both ahead and behind. They would go back and forth checking the path twice before allowing their masters to step on it, terrified the two might step on something they shouldn't. The whole procession could truly be described as grand.

From initial astonishment to current familiarity, An Ning had adapted quickly. Recalling all the accidents in palace intrigue dramas she'd watched before, in reality since becoming pregnant, none of those situations had even come close to touching her.

All ingredients followed procedures from the front courtyard, and the imperial physician came at least twice daily to check her pulse - once in the morning and once in the evening, without fail. Knowing his cousin had difficulty producing heirs, Emperor Kangxi, to show his regard for imperial clan princes, had directly ordered a gynecology-specialized imperial physician to be stationed in the residence.

One could say even his own pregnant concubines didn't receive this level of treatment.

Everyday food, clothing and supplies were checked by at least three matrons at multiple levels. During this period, other concubines in the residence couldn't even get through the door - the prince himself had given orders not to allow any visits that might disturb her.

The backgrounds of the several midwives had been thoroughly investigated inside and out a month ago, with even their families brought under the prince's control.

With such meticulous methods, unless there was some inherent problem, which fetus couldn't be protected?

They say the inner quarters of ancient times were battlefields for women, but in reality, An Ning thought, the truly decisive role was still played by the men who held power.

Looking at the man carefully holding her waist as they walked, terrified she might slip, An Ning felt entirely at ease.

This was how it should be.

Why was it that for something created by two people, it was always the woman who worried herself sick protecting the pregnancy? While some men could disdain a woman for not being clever or capable enough when she lost her child and was heartbroken, weeping in grief - expecting her to endure the various torments of pregnancy and bear a child while surrounded by wolves.

Clearly, childbirth consumed the most vitality from the woman.

After wandering aimlessly around the garden, An Ning was finally supported to the eastern courtyard to see the black chrysanthemums. After all, everywhere else was completely bare at this time, and the only wintersweets had long been seen to satiety back in the palace.

It had to be said that despite the freezing temperatures outside, several chrysanthemums carefully tended in the greenhouse were blooming magnificently, creating a unique charm in the desolate depths of winter.

When had she unknowingly developed the mindset to appreciate such things? An Ning wondered. It seemed her prince was particularly skilled at painting and quite renowned among scholars.

An Ning had observed his paintings many times before, and had even seen quite a few of his private collections. But perhaps her aesthetic sense was too lacking - beyond thinking they were truly beautiful, she couldn't say much else. Yet now she unexpectedly understood the melancholy of Tang Yin's "watching autumn winds through the fence."

In the moment An Ning was lost in thought, her hand was enveloped in a pair of warm large hands: "Are you tired? If you're tired, let's go back."

"After the birth, I'll take you to the hot spring estate. There are more varieties there, and they bloom better."

That night, An Ning turned over and secretly glared at the sleeping man beside her.

Indeed, this man was constantly immersed in poetry, songs, painting and calligraphy - even someone as insensitive as her had been influenced. Just wait until we really have a son who loves lamenting spring and grieving autumn - see what you'll do then!

Perhaps daytime thoughts become nighttime dreams - while sleeping, An Ning suddenly dreamed of a young man with the exact expression of the 1980s version of Lin Daiyu, carrying a small hoe to bury fallen flowers in the garden. Just as An Ning was about to approach, the person suddenly turned around and sweetly called her "Mother."

The power of this "Mother" was truly tremendous.

An Ning was scared awake!

And beneath her, unbeknownst to her, the bedsheet had already become wet.