The summer of the twenty-fifth year of Kangxi’s reign was especially long.
The distant Lake Yaksa was already covered in a thin layer of ice, yet the oppressive heat in the Forbidden City showed no signs of abating. The noisy chirping of cicadas was like a spilled bag of beans, scattering and rolling everywhere.
In the Hall of Golden Chimes, the solemn-faced emperor was issuing the final orders for the northern war.
Inside Yikun Palace, a beautiful and graceful woman gazed lovingly at the bed—on which, covered in the finest tribute silk from Jiangnan, a little pink dumpling was sound asleep.
The little pink dumpling was splayed out in the shape of the character for “big,” his exquisitely carved, jade-like face chubby with the baby fat unique to young children. His long, thick eyelashes rested quietly, occasionally trembling twice.
Guoluoluo-shi admired her son’s adorable sleeping posture for a good while before her gaze fell on the round little belly half-exposed beneath his shirt hem, and his pants, which had been pulled up to his thighs.
The Cold Dew solar term had long passed, but the autumn tiger was particularly fierce. The little pink dumpling craved the cool and feared the heat, pestering her until she had no choice but to place three large basins of ice before his bed. At this moment, they emitted wisps of white mist, driving the summer heat far away.
Guoluoluo-shi shook her head with a smile, gently picked up the silk blanket that had been kicked aside, and carefully covered the little pink dumpling with it.
This child, just like his fifth brother, had been able to sleep more than others since he was little. She wondered if he hadn’t gotten enough sleep in his past life; getting him to wake up early was harder than making a fish fly.
At first, Consort Yi had tried to wake him earlier, but the child had a terrible temper upon waking. If he didn’t sleep well in the morning, he would be grumpy for the rest of the day. After a few attempts, she let him be.
By rights, this was against the rules. Even princes who had not yet reached the age of reading and writing were not allowed the lazy habit of sleeping until the sun was high in the sky. But it was known throughout the palace that Consort Yi doted on her children. Thus, while other children had to rise early at mao hour to pay respects and begin their studies, only the little pink dumpling in her courtyard could sleep until he woke naturally every day.
She had entered this deep palace at seventeen and was promoted to Concubine just four months later. Her eldest son was raised by the Empress Dowager, and in the past two years, she had given birth to two more sons in succession. One could say she enjoyed unending imperial favor. Some who were green with envy would gossip behind her back, saying she was arrogant because of this favor. She paid them no mind. In fact, on some matters, she used this reputation to make some harmlessly unconventional moves, and in turn, no one ever truly tried to make a serious issue of it.
She did not seek to bring glory to her maternal family, nor did she use the Emperor’s favor to support her own father and brothers. She only wished for her children to live in peace and safety.
That Yiqi was being raised by the Empress Dowager was Kangxi’s way of looking after her. At the very least, as long as that child didn’t do anything foolish in his life, no one could touch him. As for Yintang and Yinzi… she looked at the little baby sleeping soundly and sighed softly.
The little pink dumpling had just passed his third birthday. In another year or so, he would have to move into Consort Hui’s Yanxi Palace. A year or two after that, he would move into the Princes’ Quarters and enter the Imperial Study. These things had long been decided.
At that time, forget sleeping in; even the slightest laziness in his studies would be met with punishment.
With this child’s lazy and playful nature, what was to be done?
At this thought, a hint of worry colored Guoluoluo-shi’s beautiful eyes.
The little pink dumpling slept comfortably, completely unaware. Who knows what he was dreaming of, but the corners of his mouth chewed a few times, his cheeks puffing up like a hamster’s.
Seeing him like this, Guoluoluo-shi couldn’t help but smile, despite the worries on her mind.
She reached out and gently stroked the little dumpling’s face, but he grabbed her hand and unconsciously nuzzled his little cheek against the back of her fair hand. The sensation on her skin was even smoother and softer than the silk on the bed.
Consort Yi let him hold her hand for a while before carefully pulling it free and leaving on tiptoe.
Early this morning, Liang Jiugong had come to deliver a message: His Majesty would be coming to her courtyard for the noon meal. Although it wasn’t anything new, she still had to be on her toes and keep a close watch to prevent any mishaps that would bring shame upon her household. Also, today was the day the Fifth Prince was scheduled to return. She wondered if father and son would happen to meet…
…
Yintang was woken up by the chirping of cicadas.
He kicked off the small silk blanket covering him with one foot and listened to the sounds outside. Apart from the distant voices coming from the direction of the small kitchen, the courtyard was so quiet that even the wind had stopped.
Except for that one cicada, which was getting louder and louder.
He had been woken up by this fellow yesterday too. If he had known, he would have ordered the palace servants to catch it and deep-fry it.
Yearning for the fried chicken, french fries, and milk tea he had eaten in his dream, Yintang fumbled to gather the silk blanket, balled up the two sides, and used them to cover his eyes and ears, trying to fall back asleep and continue his feast.
Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp… It was simply a demonic sound piercing his ears.
Yintang was driven to distraction by this tireless cicada until the last trace of sleepiness was completely dispelled. Only then did he reluctantly yank the blanket away and open his eyes.
Sunlight filtered through the diamond-patterned window lattice, casting spots of light on the canopy of his bed. In a daze, he remembered his past life.
Before he transmigrated, his name was Ying Botang. He was a psychology PhD student at A University who spent his days painstakingly conducting experiments and his nights tearing his hair out running data, creating some scraps for the hallowed halls of developmental psychology.
One day, on a whim, he went to the library to look through ancient texts, hoping to find some historical records of children’s lives and psychology in ancient times to provide a new perspective for his current research. As it turned out, he actually found a book from the early Qing Dynasty with detailed records. Some of the author’s personal evaluations and viewpoints within it were surprisingly similar to modern research.
Ying Botang felt as if he had found a treasure. He spent a week in the rare books room from dawn till dusk, finally finishing organizing the important content. It was only then that he remembered the book’s cover did not list the author’s name.
Out of scholarly rigor for citing sources, he finally discovered the author’s information in a line of small print on the last page.
But before he could see it clearly, his vision suddenly blurred. When he opened his eyes again, he had arrived in this era and let out his first cry in this world.
In the three years since, he had long accepted the fact that he had transmigrated, had gradually adapted to this human cub’s body, and had grown accustomed to the name “Yintang.”
In his previous life, under the pervasive influence of social media, he had some understanding of the Qing Dynasty, especially the history of the “Nine Dragons’ War for the Throne.” Of course, he knew that the historical Ninth Prince had met a tragic end, being given the name “Seshe.”
Fortunately, however, there was still plenty of time for him to save himself.
According to his shallow historical knowledge, after Yongzheng ascended the throne, among the older brothers, it was the “salted fish” princes like Yiqi and You who had idled on the sidelines that were granted a peaceful end.
Yintang felt that the path of the salted fish held great promise.
Yintang patted his small belly, which had just let out a long “gurgle.”
Rubbing his sleepy eyes with his little fists, Yintang threw on his clothes, slipped on his shoes, and energetically stepped out of his room.
He had refused to drink human milk since he was a baby, switching to goat’s and cow’s milk early on. Therefore, there were no wet nurses in the courtyard, only some clever palace maids and eunuchs to serve him.
The palace maid on duty outside, Lianzhu, saw the young master and quickly helped him wash up and dress. After all the fuss, a small doll-like figure dressed in fine brocade, like a human figurine, was freshly presented.
After stuffing two pieces of water chestnut cake into his mouth one after another, Yintang felt less hungry.
“Is Fifth Brother coming over today?” He glanced at the sky. The sun hung brightly overhead; it was already noon.
The Fifth Prince, Yiqi, was Consort Yi’s first child. However, at that time, she was still Concubine Yi. After Yiqi was born, he was handed over to the Imperial Noble Consort Tongjia to be raised for a short period, and then raised by the Empress Dowager. Once a month, Yiqi would visit Consort Yi as was customary, usually staying for the noon meal[1] and chatting before returning.
Yiqi had a gentle and honest temperament. Every time he came, he would bring him delicious pastries. Sometimes, if he received any new children’s toys from the Empress Dowager, he would usually bring them for him as well.
Most importantly, among all the princes, Yiqi was the only one who wouldn’t, in the middle of having fun with him, suddenly say, “I have to go back and study.” On the contrary, whether it was climbing trees, scaling walls, chasing chickens, or teasing dogs, as long as Yintang wanted to play, he would risk life and limb to accompany his younger brother.
He had a strong sense of inner security, was happy to share, cared for his juniors, respected his elders, and had no academic pressure. It had to be said, this Fifth Brother was indeed raised very well by the Empress Dowager.
Yintang was particularly fond of this brother, which was why he would act spoiled every time, clinging to Yiqi and playing for a long while before letting him go.
“Yes, Ninth Prince. By my calculations, the Fifth Prince should be arriving soon,” Lianzhu said.
“Oh, I see. Has the small kitchen prepared the ginger milk curd?” Yintang asked.
Lianzhu smiled and said, “Rest assured, Ninth Prince, it’s all been prepared. Also…”
Before she could finish, Yintang suddenly shushed her, and Lianzhu had no choice but to stop.
Perhaps sensing that the master of the room had come out, the cicada in the tree had just burst into a loud chirp, as if in a show of defiance.
Yintang quickly located the culprit that had been disturbing his sweet dreams for the past two days on a tree branch.
The branch wasn’t high, only about two head-heights for an adult. The cicada was huge, black and shiny—a fine specimen. It was just that its chirping was too provocative.
Yintang felt his hands and feet start to itch.
Before Lianzhu could notice, he had rolled up his sleeves, dashed towards the tree, and in a flash, had climbed quite high.
Lianzhu was actually used to this scene, but today was different. If His Majesty were to see this… Just the thought of it made cold sweat break out on Lianzhu’s brow. She quickly ordered someone else, “Go, get two more tall eunuchs. Say the Ninth Prince has climbed a tree again and tell them to hurry and get him down.” At the same time, she shouted from under the tree, “Ninth Prince, come down quickly! His Majesty is coming soon!”
Although Yintang was fond of sleeping, that was due to a young child’s need to grow. Normally, he paid great attention to physical exercise, never skipping high jumps, long jumps, or running. Climbing trees, while a bit niche, was still an excellent form of exercise.
The trunk of this tree was not thick, just enough for Yintang to wrap both his hands around. He considered it his “novice village.” He had climbed it many times since he was two years and seven months old.
The first few times, he had nearly scared a whole group of palace maids and eunuchs to tears.
Especially the very first time he climbed it, when he almost missed a step and was about to fall, two timid palace maids, worried that something would happen to their master and that their own lives would be forfeit, were so scared their legs went weak. They collapsed to the ground with a “plop” and couldn’t get up for a long time.
But practice makes perfect. This tree was now well within Yintang’s comfort zone.
He quickly climbed to the branch where the cicada was.
Up close, the cicada was even bigger than he had thought. One of his small palms couldn’t cover it. If he caught it and showed it to Fifth Brother, Fifth Brother would definitely think he was amazing.
Yintang’s competitive spirit flared up. Fearing the cicada would fly away, he clamped his little legs tightly around the branch, pressed his body against the bark, freed his hands, and cupped them into a hollow shape, slowly closing in on the cicada.
Just as the cicada was about to fall into his palms, Yintang was fully focused, not daring to breathe, all his attention concentrated on his hands.
He was so absorbed that he was completely unaware of Lianzhu’s shouts from below the tree, or of the group of people approaching from a distance.
[1] According to Qing palace customs, the noon meal here should be considered the evening meal. However, Yintang still prefers to call it the noon meal according to modern habits. The same applies later.