Yinreng didn’t understand what was happening, but he still crouched down.
A small, soft, and bouncy little body threw itself into his embrace.
The little dumpling wrapped his small arms around Yinreng’s neck. His hands were soft, and he carried a faint milky scent. Then, Yinreng felt a wet sensation on his right cheek—the little one had planted a big kiss there.
This time, it was Yinreng who stiffened.
In all his years, aside from Han Ama, no one had ever kissed him.
So, this was what it felt like to be kissed by a younger brother? Yinreng felt somewhat dazed. He sensed that the child who had always been drifting in an icy sea within his heart—the one beneath a perpetually gloomy, overcast sky—seemed to have a tiny crack appear in those dense clouds. A sliver of sunlight pierced through, brightening that world just a little.
“Muah, muah!” The little dumpling hugged his neck and kissed his left cheek and forehead, then said sweetly, “Thank you, Crown Prince Gege, for bringing me back. I like you, Crown Prince Gege! Come play with me when you have time, okay?”
Each word made Yinreng’s heart grow a little sweeter.
Yinreng didn’t know how he ended up agreeing in a daze, an unconscious smile spreading across his face. His tone was as gentle as a thirteen-year-old boy could muster: “Okay.”
Only after agreeing did he realize how unlike his usual reserved self he had been—it was downright improper. As soon as Yintang released him, he hurriedly stood up.
He took several deep breaths, waiting for his emotions to settle, before turning to the palace attendant he had summoned earlier, who had been waiting to the side. “I will wait here. After you escort the Ninth Prince back, return and inform me.”
Seeing the attendant bow and agree obediently, Yinreng finally nodded to Yintang. “Ninth Brother, you may go.”
Yintang skipped away after the attendant. Yinreng crossed his arms and watched the cheerful little figure, a faint smile touching his lips.
“Crown Prince Gege, you must come play with me!” The little dumpling hopped a few steps, then turned back to wave at him.
Yinreng imitated him, raising his hand to wave in response.
This time, for some reason, the little one’s eyes suddenly widened, and he came running back.
Puzzled, Yinreng was about to ask what was wrong when Yintang picked up his right hand, gently blew on the bandaged area, and looked up with a serious expression. “Crown Prince Gege, make sure you apply medicine properly when you get back, okay?”
Yinreng looked at his younger brother, who barely reached his thigh, putting on such a solemn yet adorably earnest demeanor, and couldn’t help but chuckle as he nodded.
Yintang, satisfied with his promise, broke into a happy smile. He then pulled a light green pouch embroidered with a cicada from his sleeve and handed it to Yinreng. “Crown Prince Gege, I made these candies myself. If it hurts when you apply medicine, just put one in your mouth, and it won’t hurt as much! I hope you get better soon!”
With that, he skipped away.
Yinreng clutched the small pouch tightly, watching the little figure disappear into the distance, feeling nothing but soft warmth in his heart.
Although he held the esteemed position of Crown Prince, Yinreng understood deep down that from childhood to adulthood, genuinely caring individuals were few and far between. Those who flocked around him with solicitous inquiries were merely drawn to his status as Crown Prince—either seeking to curry favor or fearing punishment from Han Ama for inadequate care, all ultimately driven by self-preservation.
Yet that Little Dizi had blown softly on his wound and even gifted him a pouch of candy.
In his memory, it seemed only once in early childhood—when he’d tripped while running too fast and scraped his palm—had Han Ama comforted him like this. But Han Ama believed sweets harmed teeth, and Yuqing Palace had long been devoid of candy.
Did this Little Dizi truly believe candy could soothe the pain of a wound? Perhaps it was a trick his mother had used on him, now repurposed to deceive others.
As these thoughts crossed Yinreng’s mind, a faint smile—one even he didn’t notice—touched his lips.
Still concerned about Yintang, he remained waiting until the palace attendant returned. Shortly after, the attendant came back to report: shortly after passing through Qixiang Gate, they’d encountered Lian Zhu, a maid from Yikun Palace. It turned out Consort Yi, worried about her son due to the late hour, had stationed attendants at several entry points.
Only then did Yinreng mount his horse and return to the palace.
Zhang Fu had long been waiting nearby with a dozen eunuchs. Seeing Yinreng return, he hurried forward to greet him.
Noting their arrival, Yinreng smiled slightly and said, “Return to the palace.”
Zhang Fu inwardly marveled: Had the sun risen from the west today? Crown Prince Your Highness had unprecedentedly smiled at them?
The staff of Yuqing Palace observed that the Crown Prince was unusually good-tempered today. Typically extremely sensitive to pain, he usually required great effort during medicine application. Yet today, he not only complied meekly with wound dressing but also retired to bed early.
None could detect, however, that after drawing the bed curtains, Yinreng secretly retrieved a small pale green pouch from his robe, carefully tipping a piece of faint yellow candy into his palm.
His lashes lowered as he stared blankly at the candy in his hand.
By protocol, all his food since childhood should undergo poison testing first. Glancing at the silhouetted servants beyond the curtains, he tightened his grip around the pouch.
Little Dizi’s radiant smile surfaced in his mind. Indeed, what ill intentions could Little Dizi possibly harbor? If he surrendered this candy, it would likely disappear. With this thought, Yinreng placed the candy in his mouth.
A honeyed sweetness swiftly enveloped his palate, carrying the rich fragrance of osmanthus flowers.
Yinreng felt as though his wound had genuinely become less painful.
In the warm chamber.
Having concluded the day’s governmental affairs, Kangxi sat patiently on the divan, listening to reports of the Crown Prince’s daily activities.
Kneeling before him was Liu Fangren, chief eunuch of Yuqing Palace.
Normally, a chief eunuch held only sixth or seventh rank—far below the privilege of imperial audience. But Yuqing Palace occupied a special status, and Kangxi doted excessively on the Crown Prince, demanding daily updates ranging from duration of studies and equestrian practice to minor details like which dishes he’d eaten more eagerly.
When Liu Fangren mentioned Yinreng accidentally cutting the web of his right hand during archery practice, Kangxi’s brows furrowed: “How could you serve him so carelessly?”
Liu Fangren immediately kowtowed in apology, forehead beaded with cold sweat.
Seeing his terrified state, Kangxi waved a sleeve: “Enough. What followed? Was it bandaged promptly?”
“Yes, it was dressed immediately at the archery range, and medicine was reapplied upon return,” Liu Fangren hurriedly replied.
“The Crown Prince need not practice archery and horsemanship these two days. Wait until his wound has healed.”
Liu Fangren received the oral decree and breathed an inward sigh of relief, thinking to himself that they had passed today’s test. Fortunately, Ruyi had fetched the Ninth Prince, otherwise His Highness the Crown Prince might not have agreed so readily to have his wound bandaged.
“Did anything else occur after the Crown Prince returned to his palace?” Kangxi lifted his teacup, skimmed the tea foam with the lid, and took a sip. “If nothing else, you may withdraw.”
Liu Fangren dared not conceal anything: “Today His Highness the Crown Prince escorted the Ninth Prince back.”
Kangxi paused with his teacup halfway to his lips.
Little Nine?
Noting the Emperor’s puzzlement, Liu Fangren explained: “The Ninth Prince had forgotten his bow and arrows. By the time he returned for them, it was already late, so he asked the Crown Prince to accompany him back.”
“I see,” Kangxi nodded. “Noted.”
Seeing that the Emperor asked no further questions and no longer looked his way, Liu Fangren tactfully withdrew.
Kangxi sipped his tea thoughtfully, pondering Liu Fangren’s words.
Yinreng had always maintained some distance from his brothers, partly due to his own temperament and partly because Kangxi had intentionally cultivated this dynamic. As Crown Prince, becoming too intimate with his brothers could make it difficult to command respect when he eventually ascended the throne. Moreover, excessive closeness might raise suspicions of factionalism—something the Emperor could not tolerate.
Had it been Yinzhen, Yinqi, or even Yinyou or Yinsi who did this, Kangxi would have harbored doubts, even though they were all still children under ten years old.
But Little Nine… Kangxi’s mind conjured the innocent smile of the little dumpling.
What could a three-year-old possibly understand? The child was naturally unreserved and unconstrained—probably thinking that since it was his own brother, it wasn’t an imposition to ask for an escort home. In an ordinary family, this wouldn’t even be worth mentioning.
Yintang’s ant observation box didn’t manage to attract Yinzhen’s attention first, but it certainly caught Yinqi’s interest.
The Ginger Milk Curd that Consort Yi had previously presented to the Grand Empress Dowager and Empress Dowager had been quite well-received. Upon learning that this snack was invented by the Ninth Prince, and considering the relationship between the Ninth Prince and Yinqi, the Empress Dowager suggested that Consort Yi bring Yintang along more often when she came to pay respects.
Yintang was initially pleased at the prospect of seeing Yinqi, but when he arrived at Cining Palace only to find Yinqi still fast asleep, he felt indignant about having risen so early himself. He proceeded to pinch Yinqi’s cheeks and tickle his nose until he finally managed to wake him.
After two such occurrences, Yinqi could take no more. He simply pleaded with the Empress Dowager, asking that Consort Yi bring Yintang at a later hour so the Ninth Prince wouldn’t have to wait for him.
Since all of the Fifth Prince’s attendants were provided by the Empress Dowager, she naturally knew it was actually the Ninth Prince who liked to sleep in. Yinqi, being kind-hearted, had taken the blame himself rather than expose his younger brother.
The Empress Dowager didn’t consider this a serious matter anyway. Children needed ample sleep for growth—her own Yinqi slept until late every day, so she could hardly demand that other children rise early.
Moreover, the Ninth Prince was so lovely and charming, and his words so delightful, that she readily agreed.
Thus, Yintang began visiting Cining Palace more frequently. When the Imperial Workshop completed the ant observation box, Yintang brought it along on his next visit with Consort Yi, proudly showing it off to Yinqi.
Yinqi immediately insisted on seeing it for himself.
“So this is it?” Yinqi examined the transparent glass container and chuckled: “The ants are really digging tunnels!”
After a week or two of work, the underground ant nest had taken initial shape, with pathways extending in all directions and dense crowds of ants bustling back and forth inside.
“Hey, why is this ant so much bigger than the others? And what are all those white things around it?” Yinqi, ever the curious child, observed carefully for a while before posing two key questions.
“That large ant is the queen—all the ants are born from her,” Yintang pointed at the pile of white granules near the queen. “These are ant eggs, likely freshly laid and not yet transported to the specialized incubation chamber.”
“How fascinating!” Yinqi pressed his whole face closer and soon made a new discovery: “Look, look! There are so many white ant eggs in this chamber—is this the incubation room you mentioned?”
Yintang nodded. “Exactly.”
Yinqi looked at his younger brother with admiration. “Ninth Brother is amazing! You’re only three years old and already know so much!”
Yintang inwardly panicked—he’d gotten too absorbed in watching the ants and forgotten his own identity. He chuckled awkwardly, “I was just guessing randomly.”
Yinqi didn’t dwell on it and turned his attention back to the observation box. After watching for a long while, he fired off another barrage of questions: “Why are there so many ants in the incubation chamber too? Do they hatch ant eggs like a hen sitting on her eggs? Look, why are they turning the ant eggs? Isn’t that dangerous?”
Yintang secretly smiled, realizing his fifth brother was a little “Hundred Thousand Whys.” But this also showed Yinqi had an active mind, keen observation skills, and was a clever child.
Although Yinqi often got nagged by Kangxi for not yet understanding Chinese after arriving in the modern era, Yintang felt this didn’t mean Yinqi would struggle with learning later.
Still, he couldn’t answer these questions anymore—otherwise, even someone as carefree as Yinqi would notice something unusual about him.
Yintang scratched his head and looked innocently at Yinqi. “Fifth Brother, I don’t know either.”
Suddenly, a voice came from behind them: “Ant eggs hatch on their own—they don’t need to be sat on like a hen incubating eggs. These ants are caretakers, ensuring the eggs hatch properly.”
The voice carried the distinctive nasal tone of an adolescent—who else could it be but Yinzhen?
Author’s Note:
Chapter title courtesy of: Yun & Hai [hugs]