"I won't die," Dorgon said firmly. He still had unfulfilled ambitions, people he needed to protect—how could he allow himself to die?
Qiqige, not wanting to dwell on the sentimentality, playfully slapped his chest. "You better remember what you've said."
Dorgon smiled. "I will, I will."
A hint of a smile appeared in Qiqige's eyes as she began helping her husband undress and then carefully dressed him in the ceremonial robes for the next day.
She took pride in her work—despite their infrequent time together and a relationship sustained largely by longing, she had made the robes perfectly.
"The tailors wanted to make it larger, worried it might be too tight, but I told them if they didn't listen to me, they could find someone else to do it. I know my husband's measurements better than anyone," she said, her pride evident.
Dorgon turned to admire himself in the mirror, nodding in approval. "It's comfortable and fits perfectly. After wearing armour that weighs twenty pounds every day, this robe feels like I'm wearing nothing."
Qiqige was pleased, and once satisfied with the fit, she urged him to rest. She patiently helped him undress again, layer by layer, while Dorgon stood still, fully enjoying her care. "Every time I come home, I forget how to even take off my own clothes," he joked.
With her back turned to him, holding his robes, Qiqige's heart warmed at his words. Without thinking, she murmured, "I also wish someone could help me undress."
A brief silence followed, but then Dorgon's large hand rested on her shoulder, tracing her slender neck, before reaching around to unbutton her collar, one button at a time...
By dawn, the entire city of Shengjing was steeped in solemnity. Today marked the anniversary of the death of the illustrious Khan, Nurhaci, and eight years had passed in the blink of an eye.
The palace had been bustling long before sunrise, with everyone preparing meticulously for the ceremony. When the consorts arrived at Qingning Palace, Jeje was already seated at the head, fully dressed and composed.
Qiqige arrived a little later, walking past her sisters-in-law. As she passed, the women cast glances at her, looking her up and down, and soon after, they gathered in small groups, whispering among themselves.
Even Jeje found it intriguing. It had been some time since she had seen Qiqige so vibrant and full of life. Though Qiqige usually carried herself with impeccable composure, it was clear that Dorgon's presence at home made a difference.
Meanwhile, the women from Khorchin gathered affectionately around Hairanju, chatting intimately. Jeje, however, had to tend to more people, balancing her conversations with grace and care.
Not long after, word came that Hong Taiji and the Beiles had set out, and the consorts were asked to follow.
Just as they were preparing to leave, someone mentioned, "Tomorrow is also the anniversary of the Empress Dowager's death."
Jeje felt a surge of anger, but in today's formal setting, she had to remain composed for the sake of Huang Taiji. She swallowed her displeasure, pretending not to have heard the remark.
Qiqige, too, kept her composure. Over the years, she had learned how to navigate awkward moments like this without letting them rattle her.
But she knew that, each year on this day, Dorgon was tormented by grief.
The anniversary of Empress Dowager Abahai's death followed closely behind Nurhaci's. On the morning after the Khan's passing eight years ago, Abahai had hanged herself in the mourning hall, as part of her sacrificial suicide.
At the time, both Dorgon and Qiqige had been barely fifteen years old. She vividly remembered watching her husband's deep sorrow, powerless to do anything but cry alongside him.
As they approached the door, Qiqige suddenly stopped in her tracks, causing those behind her to nearly bump into her. Da Yuer quickly pulled her aside and softly asked, "What's wrong?"
Qiqige shook her head dismissively, offering a vague answer. But in her mind, she was uneasy. Last night's joy and sweetness had made her forget to pass on the Twelfth Beile's message to Dorgon—that his brother planned to attend the ceremony armed.
Though she had little regard for Ajige and his weak-willed posturing, today was not a day to dismiss such things lightly.