The Archery Hall stood just south of the Fengxian Hall, which housed the memorial tablets of the Qing dynasty’s ancestors, a clear indication of the emperors’ emphasis on the martial traditions of the Eight Banners.
In his previous life, Yintang had visited the Forbidden City several times and had been to the Hall of Military Eminence, which was formerly the Archery Hall and later renamed the Pavilion of Arrows. The layout of the Archery Hall at this time was not much different from what he remembered—an open space in front of the hall where the princes practiced horseback riding and archery. From a distance, he could already see many people gathered on horseback in front of the hall, seemingly engaged in practice.
Yintang recalled that during his visit, the Hall of Military Eminence had housed a horizontal stone stele erected by Emperor Qianlong, inscribed with the “Admonitions on Preserving Riding, Archery, and Attire.” The right side was in Chinese, the left in Manchu, carved with the teachings of Emperor Taizong. One line had left a particularly deep impression on him: “If we abandon riding and archery, wear loose robes and wide sleeves, we will only wait for others to cut our flesh and feed it to us.”
Thinking of the dynasty’s eventual fate, Yintang couldn’t help but drift into a daze.
He was now quite close to the Archery Hall when suddenly, a horse and rider burst forth from the front of the hall, charging straight toward him.
Baofu, terrified, pulled Yintang behind him in a protective embrace. The rider urged his horse onward, brushing past Yintang and Baofu with less than an inch to spare. The dust and sand kicked up by the horse’s hooves showered over both of them.
Yintang silently raised a middle finger in his mind.
Before the two could react, the horse and rider turned around and charged past them again from the other side, barely missing them once more.
This time, Yintang was prepared and immediately used his sleeve to cover his head and face. Baofu, slower to react, got another face and mouthful of dust and sand, hastily turning aside to spit out the grit.
Yintang’s expression turned cold. He looked ahead and saw that the rider had reined in his horse, bringing it to a stop before turning to look in their direction and bursting into loud laughter.
Today at the Archery Hall, Yinti, Yinreng, Yinzhen, and Yinqi were all present.
Recently, Consort Rong had been unwell, and Yinzhi, concerned for his mother, had requested permission to return to Zhongcui Palace every afternoon to care for her. Kangxi, who already held this son in high regard and appreciated his filial devotion, had granted the request.
Although Yinyou had already turned six, his enrollment in the A’ge Institute had been postponed for a year due to his leg ailment. He was scheduled to move in next year alongside Yinsi, and for now, he practiced his introductory riding and archery in a separate area nearby.
The princes on the field had been practicing archery at their targets—the older ones on horseback, the younger ones standing—when Yinti’s laughter drew their attention.
Yinqi let out a gasp, threw down his bow and arrows, and ran toward Yintang.
Yinzhen also recognized Yintang’s arrival. Glancing at Yinti on horseback and then at the hoofprints on the ground, he immediately understood what had happened.
Just yesterday, he had been catching ants with Yintang, and today he was witnessing the little one being bullied.
Yinzhen’s face flushed with anger. He took a few steps forward, intending to check if Yintang was alright, but was stopped by the Crown Prince, who called out from behind him.
Yinzhen had no choice but to halt. After a moment’s thought, he leaned over and whispered a few instructions to his eunuch, Su Peisheng, who nodded and hurried off.
Yinreng leisurely rode his horse over to Yinzhen, gesturing with his bow as he asked, “Is that Consort Yi’s child?”
Yinzhen replied, “It’s the Ninth Prince.”
Yinreng asked, “What is he doing here?”
Including the adjacent practice area for the younger princes, the smallest one here was Yinsi, who was five years old. That little child looked to be only two or three, and with arrows flying unpredictably, how could he be brought to such a dangerous place?
Since Yinzhen didn’t respond to Yinreng’s muttered words, the conversation ended there. Just then, Yinqi arrived at the front of the hall, holding Yintang’s hand with Baofu following behind them.
Yintang’s gaze first fell upon Yinti—his wheat-toned skin, thick brows, narrow eyes, and chin tilted arrogantly upward. One corner of his mouth was quirked in the smug grin of someone who’d just pulled off a mischievous prank.
He looked every bit the schoolyard bully.
Noticing their approach, Yinti cast them a sidelong glance and let out a mocking whistle.
Yinti didn’t recognize whose child this was, nor did he care. Whenever a new young Prince came to the Archery Hall, he would greet them with this same intimidating tactic.
He always found it immensely amusing to recall Yinzhen’s flustered reactions, Yinqi’s anger, and Yinsi’s fearful expressions. It reminded him of the fun he’d had teasing the palace maids and servants back when he was sent to Garu’s residence during the smallpox outbreak in his childhood.
Yinqi was furious. Though the Empress Dowager often taught him to be broad-minded and gentle with others, today’s situation clearly called for more than just tolerance.
In terms of height, Yinqi couldn’t compare to Yinti, who was several years older. But raised with Mongolian traditions by the Empress Dowager—drinking milk like water and eating meat without restrictions—Yinqi had grown strong and sturdy. His physique was even more robust than Yinzhen’s, despite being a year younger.
Though only seven years old, he already stood as tall as a horse’s belly. Pulling Yintang behind him protectively, he glared at Yinti and snapped, “Ninth Brother is so young! Don’t you realize how dangerous your behavior is?!”
He remembered his own first day at the Archery Hall, when Yinti had thrown sand all over his face and hair.
Back then, not even six years old, Yinqi hadn’t been afraid of this bully. If the eunuchs hadn’t held him back, he would have rushed forward and punched the guy.
He could endure being provoked himself, but seeing his soft, adorable Ninth Brother bullied was absolutely unacceptable!
Yinti delighted in watching his younger brothers’ frustrated rage. As the eldest among them, his physical advantage was undeniable—others could never gain the upper hand against him, leaving him free to mock them at will.
With a contemptuous tone, Yinti declared loudly, “This is a place for riding and archery. Useless weaklings shouldn’t even be here.”
“You!” Yinqi’s fists clenched, ready to strike.
Yinti raised his own fists defiantly. “Think you can take me?”
Eunuchs and Andas swarmed around them, prepared to intervene at any moment.
Just as Yinqi was about to explode with rage, he felt someone tugging at his clothes.
Looking down, he saw Yintang’s small hands pulling at his sleeve. The little boy smiled up at him and said, “Fifth Brother, thank you! But today I’m here to choose an Anda. If you fight with him, you won’t be able to help me pick one. Let’s just ignore him, okay?”
This was textbook school bullying. Yintang knew that against bullies who sought amusement from their victims, the most effective retaliation wasn’t violent confrontation but showing complete indifference—denying them the reaction they craved.
Hearing the little one’s sweet, earnest words, Yinqi’s anger instantly cooled. Right, he couldn’t let this interfere with Ninth Brother’s important task of selecting an Anda.
Yinqi shot Yinti a final glare. “My Ninth Brother has serious business today. If you dare bully him again, we’ll see who’s tougher!” With that, he took Yintang’s hand and walked away.
Yinti snorted derisively, his eyes fixed on Yintang. He was searching for any trace of emotion on the boy’s face. After all, the victim’s reaction was the most entertaining part of any prank.
He hadn’t paid much attention while riding earlier, and just now Yinqi had shielded him behind his back. It wasn’t until the two of them walked forward that Yinti got a clear look at the target of his prank.
A child as soft and round as a pink dumpling, barely taller than a horse’s knee, with a fair, delicate face, clear eyebrows and bright eyes—even more delicate-looking than a little girl.
For some reason, though this little thing was obviously utterly weak in combat ability, seeing him like this made Yinti feel, for the first time, a pang of guilt over his earlier act of bullying the small.
He shook his head, dispelling this inexplicable emotion, and tried to see the angry expression he had been anticipating on the little dumpling’s face. Such a soft little thing, when angry, would surely puff up like a steamed bun—it would be incredibly amusing.
But to his disappointment, the little pink dumpling remained expressionless. From start to finish, he didn’t even glance at Yinti.
This was the first time Yinti had encountered such a situation. He felt as though he had thrown a full-force punch into a ball of cotton—empty and without impact, leaving him utterly unsettled.
Yintang walked straight ahead without looking sideways, his small hand holding onto Yinqi as they moved forward.
His eyes immediately fell upon Yinzhen. Behind him stood a thin, square-faced little eunuch holding a copper basin, with a towel draped over its rim.
Beside Yinzhen stood a tall, sturdy horse with a deep bay coat. Even though Yintang knew nothing about horses, he could tell it was a fine steed.
Resting on the stirrups was a pair of dark blue long boots, from the edges of which hung a section of apricot-yellow robe. Following the robe upward, he saw a person sitting elegantly atop the horse, his posture as straight and noble as pines and bamboos on a mountain. His face, though still bearing traces of youth, was as radiant as spring breeze and flawless as jade, with hair at his temples dark as ink and sharply trimmed. Though his features had not yet fully shed their childish softness, there was already a faint, imperial dignity between his brows.
Noticing Yintang’s gaze, his vermilion lips curved slightly into a smile as he said, “Hello, Ninth Brother.”
Author’s Note:
[1] Source: Baidu Baike.