This one sentence was worth more than a thousand words.
Hong Taiji understood Da Yuer's feelings for him, but hearing her express them so clearly still moved him deeply.
The seriousness on his face gradually faded, and he spoke gently: "I don't want my woman to live with such hardship, nor do I want you to carry any burdens. Jeje's thoughts may be hard to change, but you, from now on, should live according to your own heart. Yuer, only when the person I cherish most is living well, will all the storms I face outside be worth it."
Da Yuer nodded vigorously, feeling deeply wronged as she said, "I thought you'd be angry, that you'd leave me again. I thought I did something to make you hate me, but I..."
Hong Taiji gently pinched her cheek and said, "Neither of us is entirely free. I have my temper, and you have your stubbornness, but that's exactly what I cherish about you."
"Great Khan."
"Yuer, remember, you are my woman, the woman of Hong Taiji."
As the last sliver of moonlight faded and the dawn approached, Da Yuer followed her husband out of the Fenghuang Tower, once again watching him depart.
The eastern sky slowly brightened, and she took a deep breath, straightened her back, and turned to return to the palace.
Meanwhile, the forward troops moved slowly, and after two days, they reunited with Hong Taiji. The continuous journey, day and night, had taken its toll on the nearly forty-year-old man. Though he was feeling the strain, Hong Taiji could not show any signs of weariness in front of others. In the following days, he remained mostly hidden away in the imperial carriage, rarely seen by anyone.
The eldest son, Hooge, was the only one granted an audience with his father, and naturally, he could see the fatigue etched on his father's face. In his youthful vigour and ambition, the twenty-something Hooge had already begun making his own calculations.
That day, Hong Taiji abandoned his carriage and rode on horseback, still exuding a commanding presence. Hooge watched quietly from the side-lines. Later that night, as the camp settled for rest, some of his men came into his tent to discuss matters. They mentioned that the Great Consort Jeje had given birth to another daughter. Hooge sneered, "Father already has grandchildren; who cares what sons that woman can bear? The women of Khorchin are fated to only give birth to daughters. Jeje and Bumbutai have given birth to six daughters between them, and they still haven't given up?"
Yet deep down, Hooge knew the truth. He was the eldest son, but he lacked a respectable mother.
His own mother, due to her arrogance and disrespect, had been forcefully divorced by his grandfather, Nurhaci. Though she was still alive, Hooge couldn't bring her into his household for care.
In contrast, Jeje and Bumbutai were supported by the powerful Khorchin clan—Jeje earned his father's deep respect, and Bumbutai, young and beautiful, held sway over the imperial harem. Between the aunt and niece, they maintained control over the inner palace. Even if they hadn't borne a son yet, one day they might, and a few soft words whispered at his father's bedside could spell trouble for Hooge's future.
One of Hooge's subordinates carefully suggested, "Your Highness, the widows of Lin Dan Khan will be without support once they enter the palace. Perhaps... you should have at least one or two allies in the harem who can speak on your behalf."
Hooge frowned, shaking his head slightly. "My uncle Daišan lost all chance of inheriting the throne because of rumours that linked him too closely with Consort Abahai, Dorgon's mother. Grandfather despised her for those rumours. I can't repeat that mistake. I need to consider everything with utmost caution."
Seeing that Hooge had made up his mind, his subordinates dared not say more. Meanwhile, Hooge muttered to himself, "Those women in the harem, as long as they can't bear sons, aren't worth worrying about. The real trouble is Dorgon."
Time flew by, and half a month had passed since Great Consort Jeje's delivery. Though she had once again been disappointed by the lack of a son, her resilient spirit soon revived. After these few weeks, she had regained her usual graceful appearance.
On this particular day, one of Lin Dan Khan's widows, the Consort Doutumen, was scheduled to enter the palace.
Early in the morning, Da Yuer had led her servants to inspect the cleaning of the side palace. As she stood in a daze at the entrance, she didn't notice Qiqige approach her side until she spoke, smiling: "Feeling uneasy, aren't you? Don't the Han people have a saying about making wedding clothes for someone else?"
Da Yuer smiled back, saying, "Even when the Han people talk about unpleasant things, it sounds graceful."