Even many years later, when Kangxi’s face had grown somewhat blurry in his memories, Yintang could still vividly recall his first encounter with Yinreng.
What a remarkable young man he was. Tall and straight like a bamboo, radiant as the moon hanging in the sky, with full lips curved in a smile and beautiful eyes that held a slight chill.
He was like a rare flower blooming alone on a high peak, bathed in the moonlight, yet would eventually fall and be trampled into the dust.
Yintang stood before the horse, craning his neck to look at the rider. In his mind, he repeatedly went over the latter half of Yinreng’s life—”twice appointed and twice deposed, ending his days under house arrest.”
The relationship between this ruler and subject, father and son, was truly too complex, leaving countless descendants, including himself, puzzled. Why would such a divinely favored, elegant and handsome heir meet such a fate of estrangement from his father?
The historical figures one reads about in books inevitably seem one-dimensional, but when the actual subject of those narratives stands before you, the emotional impact on the reader of history is immense.
Yintang stood there in a daze, his mind filled with tangled thoughts, momentarily unsure how to react.
Yinreng sat on his horse, looking down at the little pink bundle before him.
The child’s face was small, not even the size of his palm. His stature was tiny too, as if he could be lifted with one hand. Only his eyes were large and bright like stars, staring unblinkingly at him.
Logically, he should have seen him before, but he didn’t have much impression of him. Truth be told, he didn’t pay much attention to Han Ama’s numerous sons.
The little one was quite cute, just a bit dull-witted. Yinreng thought to himself, truly a son of the Gorolo clan, born with an endearing appearance. He had heard yesterday that Han Ama had granted him the privilege to choose an Anda, but he hadn’t expected to run into him today.
Thinking this, he couldn’t help but give the little thing another once-over.
According to protocol, Yintang should have greeted him first, but given the little fellow’s dazed state, he probably didn’t know the rules.
Considering this, Yinreng graciously took the initiative and called out, “Ninth Brother.”
Hearing this, Yintang finally snapped out of his trance and hurriedly performed the proper greeting.
Yinreng nodded slightly, acknowledging the gesture. Then, without another glance at him, he urged his horse toward his archery target.
Yintang watched Yinreng’s retreating figure, sighing inwardly with genuine admiration. He truly lived up to being the Crown Prince—though only thirteen, every movement exuded an air of noble dignity.
As he was lost in these thoughts, he caught sight of Yinzhen approaching with a little eunuch in his peripheral vision.
“Fourth Brother!” Yintang grinned at Yinzhen, revealing a row of neat little white teeth, and gestured excitedly with his small hands in front of his chest. “I’ve kept the ants you helped me catch yesterday in a big box!”
Ahem. Yinzhen’s face flushed slightly, and he quickly glanced around to make sure no one else had overheard. He was already eight years old—if this got to Yinti’s ears, he would surely be teased mercilessly.
Su Peisheng stepped forward with a copper basin. Baofu immediately understood, hurried over, rolled up his sleeves, soaked and wrung out a towel, and began wiping the dust from Yintang’s face and hair.
Yintang thanked Yinzhen and Su Peisheng, then asked, “Fourth Brother, Fifth Brother, where do we go to choose an Anda?”
On the way here, he had asked Baofu in advance, but not only Baofu—indeed, the entire Forbidden City had no precedent of a young Prince choosing his own Anda. They would have to play it by ear. He had already taken a quick look around but hadn’t found anything like an “Anda selection office.” He figured there must be some customary procedure.
Yinqi pointed to the open area in front of the hall and said with a laugh, “Aside from the Princes and eunuchs, the only ones here are Andas. Just tell me which one you’ve taken a liking to, Ninth Brother, and I’ll take you to speak with the Anda in charge.”
Yintang carefully scanned the area and noticed several figures moving nimbly on horseback between the archery targets in the open space before the hall. A few others were following beside Yinreng or Yinti, occasionally raising their bows to demonstrate, their arrows flying steadily and accurately.
Princes who had entered the Imperial Study to formally begin their equestrian and archery training would typically be instructed by several Andas. But for a three-year-old child like Yintang, only one Anda was needed to provide introductory lessons.
Yintang couldn’t help but ponder to himself.
His request to Kangxi to learn archery was primarily to divert the emperor’s dangerous idea of starting him early on intensive Chinese studies, not because he genuinely intended to build a foundation from childhood to eventually join his father and brothers on the battlefield.
Therefore, choosing the right Anda would directly impact his quality of life for the next several years.
For teaching children, the most skilled in horsemanship or archery wasn’t necessary—what mattered was finding someone broad-minded, easygoing, and gentle, with love, patience, and tolerance toward children.
This wasn’t based on any child development psychology theories, but mainly to facilitate his future plans of being a carefree idler.
To observe more carefully, Yintang turned to Yinzhen and Yinqi, who were waiting nearby, and said, “Fourth Brother, Fifth Brother, there’s no need to wait for me. Go ahead and practice—I’ll call you when I’ve made my choice!”
Yinzhen seemed about to say something but noticed Yinqi waving him off.
Yinqi immediately understood his younger brother’s meaning. Since childhood, Ninth Brother had always been full of clever schemes—this was clearly an excuse to avoid being disturbed.
Yinzhen quickly caught on as well. After repeated reminders from both brothers, they went off to practice archery separately.
Yintang began carefully examining the potential candidates on the field.
First, those instructing the other Princes were absolutely off-limits. Firstly, a gentleman doesn’t take what others cherish; secondly, he couldn’t compete for them anyway; and thirdly, if such an Anda resented him for ruining their chance to curry favor, he might face retaliation.
Next, he considered the Andas practicing freely.
Hmm, the too young ones were unacceptable. Young people tended to be ambitious and competitive—if any of them sought promotion through teaching achievements, he might end up subjected to brutal training.
Those with exceptional skills were also undesirable. The highly skilled shouldn’t be wasted on him—better reserved for brothers like Yinti and Yinqi who would eventually serve in battle.
In summary, he needed someone older, moderately skilled, and kindly faced.
Yintang mentally sketched his ideal future Anda and began comparing candidates against this image.
Suddenly, his eyes fell upon a man sitting on the stone steps in front of the Archery Hall. The man’s long legs were casually stretched across the steps, his posture slouched and improper.
His heart leapt with joy, and he hurried over to the steps, looking up to examine the man closely.
The man appeared to be around fifty years old, handsome with fair complexion, well-dressed but with a lazy demeanor that didn’t suggest someone accustomed to hardship.
Yintang thought that while other criteria might be subjective, at least the “older age” requirement was definitely met.
The man noticed Yintang staring and asked with a smile, “Young Prince, why are you looking at me like that? Is there something you need?”
Mm, already smiling before speaking—likely had a good temper too.
Yintang blinked and asked, “Old master, how are your equestrian and archery skills?”
The man laughed, “Average.”
All three criteria matched perfectly: advanced in years, amiable in temperament, and average in martial skills.
Yintang was overjoyed.
“Master, would you be willing to become my Anda?”
Ashumuergen looked down at the little munchkin standing below the stone steps. The child was as delicate as a jade carving, resembling a sticky rice dumpling freshly dusted with glutinous flour. Yet his speech was crisp and straightforward, without the slightest hesitation—a demeanor that appealed to Ashumuergen.
It had been a long time since he had formally taught anyone.
The Emperor’s riding and archery skills had long surpassed his own. Though Ashumuergen was still retained to instruct the Princes, his role had shifted more toward evaluation and occasional guidance rather than hands-on teaching. Yesterday afternoon, Kangxi had casually mentioned that the Ninth Prince would be selecting an Anda today and advised him to take it seriously. He never expected the selection would fall upon him.
To be honest, the little dumpling’s proposal stirred both his interest and an itch to teach again.
Ashumuergen narrowed his eyes, studying Yintang up and down. Truth be told, the child bore some resemblance to the Emperor in his youth—slender and small, with sparkling eyes that, when fixed on someone, made refusal nearly impossible. Yet his appearance was far more endearing than the Emperor’s had been, with his fair, tender skin like a soft, chewy rice ball.
Ashumuergen tilted his head slightly and glanced into the Archery Hall, where a corner of bright yellow robe was concealed in the shadows.
If the Emperor hadn’t been present, he would have pinched the child’s chubby cheeks without hesitation.
Kangxi placed great emphasis on his sons’ riding and archery skills. Whenever free, he would visit the Archery Hall daily to assess the Princes’ progress. Of course, in Ashumuergen’s view, the Emperor’s evaluations were merely an excuse—his true motive was to indulge his own passion for horseback riding and archery.
Perhaps because court affairs had concluded early today, the Emperor arrived earlier than usual, just as the little dumpling came seeking an instructor. Now deliberately hiding inside the hall, Ashumuergen wondered what scheme he was plotting this time.
Amused inwardly, Ashumuergen decided to tease both father and son.
Seeing the master remain silent for a long while, Yintang understood he was considering the proposal. He stood obediently below the steps, waiting patiently. After a moment, the master raised an eyebrow, leaned forward slightly, and asked with a faint smile, “Little Prince, what if I refuse?”
Hearing this from inside the hall, Kangxi couldn’t suppress a soft chuckle.
Court matters had concluded swiftly today, allowing him to arrive earlier than usual. With nothing pressing to attend to and the Princes having just begun their training, he had settled in the Archery Hall for a while. Unexpectedly, he happened to witness his little one coming to choose an Anda.
Curious, he waited quietly to see what kind of master the little dumpling would select. As the saying goes, there’s always someone who can tame another. He hoped this Anda would be able to discipline the child, lest he someday truly tear the roof off Yikun Palace.
Kangxi waited leisurely, never imagining that Yintang would choose his own former Anda.
The little rascal certainly had good taste. But Kangxi knew better than anyone what kind of person Ashumuergen Anda was. In his younger days, he was known for his iron discipline—when teaching, he didn’t care if you were the Emperor; if you missed the target, you kept practicing until you hit it.
Sometimes his training methods were so harsh they felt like a storm of criticism.
As a child, Kangxi had often hidden under his blankets and cried after being scolded.
And now this little dumpling wanted Ashumuergen as his Anda? He looked utterly incapable of enduring hardship—Ashumuergen would certainly refuse.
Yet, upon second thought, having Ashumuergen teach the little rascal might not be such a bad idea after all.
When the little ball of a child couldn’t bear Ashumuergen’s fierce demeanor any longer, he would step in with gentle consolation. He would casually mention his own past hardships in practicing archery, setting himself up as a role model for the child.
Kangxi found himself somewhat looking forward to the follow-up of Yintang’s apprenticeship pursuit.
Based on his three years of experience in the palace, Yintang had assumed that selecting an Anda was similar to choosing palace maids or eunuchs—just point and pick. He never expected to face rejection.
However, with his modern mindset, he believed that the master-apprentice relationship should be a mutual commitment. If the old master truly had no desire to teach him, their future interactions would likely be strained. Thus, he didn’t find the man’s blunt refusal disrespectful.
But as the saying goes, “If you miss this chance, you won’t find another.” The man was no longer young—what if he retired to his hometown someday? Where else could Yintang find such a suitable Anda? Moreover, Kangxi had instructed him to make his selection that very day, and among all the Andas present, this one was clearly the best fit.
After some thought, Yintang decided to try again.
Although the old master verbally refused, his lips curved in a slight smile, his body leaned forward, and his eyebrows lifted. Based on his professional judgment of the man’s tone, expression, and gestures, Yintang concluded that his chances of success were still quite high.
He just needed to add one more push.