Chapter One: The Fourth Son of Prince Yong

Before Hongli stood two trees; one was a jujube tree, and the other was, again, a jujube tree.

This was not an echo of some famous writer’s words.

It was simply that Hongli was now sitting on the roof of the rear wing, gazing at these two jujube trees.

Beyond the courtyard wall, right next to the trees, came the sounds of opera—the singing, reciting, acting, and acrobatics—intertwined with the applause and shouts of approval from the sons of princes and nobles.

Hongli knew that beyond the courtyard wall was the residence of the Eighth Prince.

Even though the Eighth Prince, Yinsi, had already lost his chance at the throne, the rise of the Fourteenth Prince meant the Eighth Prince’s residence remained a gathering place for ambitious nobles and ministers.

Hongli paid no mind to this bustle.

After all, none of this excitement had anything to do with him, the fourth son of Prince Yong.

He had no interest in it.

He much preferred the tranquility of his own side of the wall, sitting on the rooftop, lost in thought as he watched the red jujubes fill the sky.

He didn’t know when, but Lady Niohuru came running over, her face tense as she looked up at him. “Hongli! Why are you up there again?”

Lady Niohuru was his birth mother.

Because her family background was humble—her father, Lingzhu, was only a fourth-rank ceremonial officer, and her mother, Lady Peng, was merely the daughter of a licentiate, Peng Wu—Lady Niohuru entered the Prince’s manor as a concubine of the lowest rank. Even after giving birth to Hongli, she did not rise in status.

Thus, everyone in the household called her simply “Lady,” and Hongli was no exception.

“Mother, I’ve finished all my lessons,” Hongli said, turning to Lady Niohuru.

She was strict about his studies, often threatening that his father, Yongzheng, would personally inspect his assignments to make sure he completed them promptly and thoroughly.

But in truth, Yongzheng rarely came to see Hongli, let alone check his homework.

This was mainly because Lady Niohuru’s low status did little to endear her or her son to Yongzheng.

Still, fearing her constant nagging more than any distant authority, Hongli always finished his assignments as soon as he returned from his studies.

“Did you finish your arithmetic lessons as well?” she pressed.

“They’re done!”

“And did you check your work?”

“I checked everything.”

Because Emperor Kangxi had a passion for mathematics, it became fashionable among the imperial family and nobility to ensure their sons learned the subject.

Of course, Kangxi only encouraged the imperial clan to study mathematics; for outsiders, especially the Han Chinese, it was enough to master the Confucian classics.

Hongli, too, was taught arithmetic, lest he be caught off guard by a sudden test at a court banquet.

Still frowning, Lady Niohuru said, “Come down now. It’s not safe up there.”

“I just want to stay up here a little longer,” Hongli replied, looking out at the blue sky beyond the palace walls.

“Be careful, or your father might see you,” she warned.

Prince Yong, Yinzhen, was notorious for his sternness—unyielding to his officials, and equally harsh with his family.

In the Prince’s household, just the mention of Yongzheng’s name was enough to make everyone pale.

Whenever Hongli misbehaved, Lady Niohuru only needed to mention his father’s name, and he would immediately fall in line.

It was her surefire trick.

But now, Hongli seemed unconcerned, remaining where he was.

Lady Niohuru’s worry was genuine.

As a mother, she feared for her son’s safety; as a woman of low status, she knew any injury to Hongli would bring punishment—on her and her whole family.

Seeing her son unmoved, she clutched her chest, forced a smile, and tried coaxing him, “Come down now. I’ll have someone pick jujubes for you. Would you like that?”

Hongli ignored her.

It wasn’t that he wanted to embarrass her, but he was too troubled himself.

Only three days earlier, he had been a mathematics teacher in the twenty-first century, lecturing in his classroom.

He’d been chatting idly during a math lesson, criticizing the Qing dynasty for keeping its people ignorant, when all at once, he found himself in the Qing dynasty.

And suddenly, he was Hongli, the fourth son of Yongzheng, the prolific poet and future emperor known to history as the Qianlong Emperor—the one who enjoyed perhaps the most comfortable reign of all.

Yet, no matter how comfortable, to Hongli, it could never compare to the twenty-first century.

“Mother, Su Peisheng just brought word that Fourth Master will be coming here shortly,” a maidservant hurried over to report.

Lady Niohuru’s face lit up, and a plan came to her. She said to Hongli, “Come down quickly. Your father is coming soon. If he sees you like this, you’ll be in serious trouble!”

Hongli knew well how strict Yongzheng was, so he obediently began to climb down from the roof.

Lady Niohuru immediately ordered the servants below to form a human ladder and a cushion, lest Hongli miss his footing and fall.

At last, Hongli reached the ground safely and bowed to Lady Niohuru. “Forgive me for worrying you, Mother.”

She was not angry. Smiling, she stroked his head and tried to comfort him. “I know you’re upset because you couldn’t go to your Eighth Uncle’s to watch the opera like your third brother. But you could go play with Hongzhou, couldn’t you?”

Her mention of Hongli’s third brother referred to Hongshi, the eldest among Yongzheng’s sons.

Hongzhou was Hongli’s younger half-brother, born of Lady Geng, only half an hour younger than Hongli. The two were very close.

In his later years, Emperor Qianlong himself recalled that he and Hongzhou had studied together and were nearly inseparable.

That was why Lady Niohuru brought him up now.

“Who else is there to play with? If he wants to join the fun, let him! Why put on a face for your mother here?”

A stern voice came from the courtyard gate.

Before Lady Niohuru or anyone else could see who had spoken, they all fell silent in terror.

Hongli, however, looked up first, and saw Yongzheng himself approaching, face cold as ice.

He knew that although the Prince Yong’s residence was right next to the Eighth Prince’s, the two men were not on good terms—they were rivals, after all. Otherwise, Yongzheng would not have stripped Yinsi of his title and changed his name to “Aqina” after ascending the throne.

Even Hongshi, Yongzheng’s own son, suffered because of his closeness with Yinsi. Though already seventeen, he had not been granted the title of heir; later, after Yongzheng took the throne, he was passed to Yinsi as an adopted son and eventually stripped of his status.

It showed just how deeply Yongzheng hated Yinsi and anyone friendly with him.

So Hongli was not surprised that his father was angry at Lady Niohuru’s mention of Yinsi, and suspected that Hongli was upset because he couldn’t go join the festivities at the Eighth Prince’s residence.

Hurriedly, Hongli bowed deeply and explained, “Father, please allow me to explain. I am only unhappy because I miss my Thirteenth Uncle.”

Hongli knew that Yongzheng’s true confidant was his thirteenth brother, Yinxiang, not his blood brother, Yinti.

History recorded that Yongzheng’s affection for Yinxiang surpassed that for anyone else. After taking the throne, he did not require Yinxiang to change his name, granted him the honor of an Iron-Cap Prince, and treated his sons as his own.

When Yinxiang died at the Dragon Boat Festival, Yongzheng grieved each year at that time, becoming so irritable and withdrawn that everyone around him lived in fear.

But now, after the Crown Prince Yinreng was deposed for the second time, Yinxiang had been implicated. Though not imprisoned as some dramas depicted, he was effectively under house arrest, forbidden from seeing anyone.

That was why Hongli mentioned Yinxiang now, as an explanation for his low spirits.