Concubine of the Eastern Palace (Qing Dynasty Time Travel)

At this moment, a round sun was sinking below the distant peaks of the sand dunes. The earth was bathed in the fading red glow of the sunset, and the wind-swept sand, marked with winding tracks, gradually became still, like a sea in deep slumber.

Before the sky darkened completely, a caravan of over a dozen camels struggled over the sand dunes, leaving a trail of winding footprints. Mingzhu sat atop a camel, his hair disheveled and face covered in yellow dust.

When the sandstorm swept in, he could hardly keep his eyes open, relying solely on the camel, which knew the way, to lead him out of the desert.

Yesterday, he heard that someone bearing a secret imperial order had arrived. The once lazy and bored Mingzhu immediately sprang to action. Without even changing clothes, he quickly called for attendants, went to the street to buy a bundle of dry bread and two bags of water, and sought out a bodyguard from the local trade company known for escorting goods across the desert. He packed various medicinal herbs—those for dispelling wind, expelling evil, detoxifying, and reducing inflammation—from several pharmacies. In less than an hour, he mounted his horse and galloped off. With his generous payment, the bodyguard followed instructions, setting off at full speed. The group rode horses, entered the desert to switch to camels, then switched back to horses again. They didn’t eat or drink, racing for a hundred miles. In just a day and a night, they reached the Gulu Fu’erjian Jia Hun’ga Mountain.

By the time he knelt before Kangxi’s sickbed like a wild person, he almost passed out himself.

Kangxi, who was reclining on the bed with his eyes closed to rest, was startled by his appearance. Coughing, he lifted his eyes to look at him, his deep pupils flashing as he sighed, “I sent for you, but I didn’t tell you to rush like this. How many days has it been since you’ve slept?”

“Your Majesty’s health is ailing. How could I sit still?” Mingzhu spoke, tears welling up in his eyes. His once fair face was now covered in yellow sand, and as he cried, two muddied tear streaks appeared on his face. “Your Majesty, are you feeling any better? I’m incompetent, only able to gather herbs from a few shops. I’m not sure if you’re still lacking anything—if so, I’ll have someone buy more right away!”

Seeing him in such a disheveled state, Kangxi couldn’t help but feel moved. He no longer had the elegant, scholarly demeanor he usually carried with him. He said, “I have all the medicines I need, the Imperial Physicians have already prescribed the treatment. Don’t worry.” He turned to Liang Jiugong, “Why are you still standing there? Go help the Minister clean up!”

Liang Jiugong hurriedly bowed and stepped forward to assist Mingzhu, who could barely walk due to the severe chafing on his thighs, now raw and bleeding. After helping him down, Kangxi wearily lay back on his pillow.

He had just arrived at the Gulu Fu’erjian Jia Hun’ga Mountain the day before when a sandstorm hit. The scorching sand blasted against him relentlessly. By the time the storm passed, the weather had turned cold, and the rapid shift from hot to cold left him feeling feverish and stiff. He managed to push on to the mountain pass, but by then, he was dizzy and almost fell off his horse.

The illness came so suddenly. Throughout history, how many emperors had perished on their military expeditions? Kangxi’s heart skipped a beat. Realizing he was still conscious enough to speak, he immediately sent out two urgent secret orders.

One order was for the Crown Prince and the Third Prince to come from the capital and attend to his illness, and the other was sent to Mingzhu’s residence. At that time, Suoetu and Tong Guogang were both leading troops outside to fight against Galdan, and they wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. The only person in the court who could suppress the situation was Mingzhu.

If anything were to happen, Mingzhu would be the one he entrusted with regency.

Fortunately, after taking two doses of medicine, he fell into a deep sleep. When he woke up, he had perspired heavily, and his condition had improved significantly.

However, Kangxi had not expected Mingzhu to arrive so quickly.

He lifted his eyelids, his expression flickering in the dim candlelight. The two orders had been sent out simultaneously, but the Crown Prince and Third Prince had not yet arrived…

Mingzhu, having washed up and applied medicine to her legs, refused to rest. He had a young eunuch carry him out. He busied himself checking the small stove near the emperor’s bed where his medicine was being boiled, then went to the imperial physicians to deliver the herbs he had brought, and later instructed the kitchen to prepare a bowl of delicate, easily digestible noodles for himself, leaving him constantly on the move.

Kangxi, hearing all the commotion outside the tent, noticed Mingzhu’s figure moving back and forth in the shadows. Unable to contain himself, he sighed, “Mingzhu, stop moving around like a spinning lantern. You’re making me dizzy. Can’t you just sit still for once?”

“Your Majesty hasn’t slept?” Mingzhu asked as he lifted the curtain and entered. He got off the young eunuch’s back and walked over to Kangxi, a hint of complaint in her voice. “I couldn’t rest easy, being in such a remote place. I don’t know how they are attending to you. I told you before that I should come along to take care of you, but you insisted that I stay in the capital to support the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince is young and capable, so he doesn’t need someone like me.”

Kangxi could tell there was more to Mingzhu’s words. He tilted his head, signaling for him to sit down. “The Crown Prince is still young; how can he manage without someone more experienced? Has he been handling things well these past few days? Could it be that your pride is too great, and the Crown Prince can’t even summon you?”

Although his words seemed harsh, his tone was warm.

Mingzhu, reassured, couldn’t help but smile. “How dare I! What I meant was that the Crown Prince has been managing state affairs with great order, and for now, my thick-headedness is unnecessary. You don’t know, but since the Crown Prince began his regency, whenever there has been a major issue, he has consulted with me and the other officials of the six ministries, and everything has been handled with great care. Your Majesty can rest assured. Many ministers have praised him, saying, ‘The Crown Prince is as solid as Mount Tai while in the capital.'”

Mingzhu then went on to enumerate the Crown Prince’s meticulous and steady governance in recent days.

“As solid as Mount Tai…” Kangxi repeated the words in a calm, emotionless voice, but there was no sign of joy in his eyes. He nodded slightly before abruptly changing the subject. “When you left, did you see the Crown Prince?”

Mingzhu was taken aback for a moment, then kneeled and replied truthfully, “I left in a hurry and did not encounter the Crown Prince’s procession. I suspect he’s busy and hasn’t left the palace yet due to all the matters at hand…”

Kangxi remained silent for a moment before waving his hand. “This is not your concern. You may go rest now.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will take my leave.” Mingzhu lowered his gaze and, limping, walked out of the main tent.

Mingzhu’s personal attendants had been waiting not far away. Seeing him walk with a pained expression, they quickly rushed forward to help him. One whispered, “Concubine Hui…”

“Shh.” Mingzhu stopped him. His expression had already returned to normal, no longer showing the anxiety and loyalty he had displayed earlier in the presence of the Emperor. It wasn’t until they had walked a few hundred meters away, and no one was around, that Mingzhu raised his eyes to the cold, pale crescent moon in the distance. “You don’t need to say anything. I know everything. Tell her to relax. As long as the Eldest Prince can achieve a meritorious deed this time, we will have cracked open the shell like a clam, and from now on, we won’t be pressed down by the Yuqing Palace anymore.”

Why was he so determined to seize this opportunity? Because at this moment, the first one to reach the Emperor would have the upper hand!

The moment he received the decree, Mingzhu immediately realized—this was a once-in-a-lifetime, fleeting opportunity, the only chance now to shake the Yuqing Palace’s grip!

People outside often say that Nalan Mingzhu is a man of great wisdom, always cautious and meticulous, doing only what ensures no risks. But they have never seen through him. In reality, he is a gambler, and today, this is indeed a high-stakes gamble. But clearly, he has won.

Kangxi had temporarily camped at Gulu Fu’erjian Jia Hun’ga Mountain, and all the best things were naturally reserved for the Emperor. The other tents, by comparison, looked rather shabby. Mingzhu, however, was unbothered. He comfortably lay in his old tent, his hands behind his head, looking through a small hole in the tent’s roof, gazing at the starry sky.

After a while, his attendant entered and knelt to report, “The people have been sent to their destination.”

“Did you make sure no one saw them?”

“Rest assured, sir. They left under cover of night. The ancient city ruins, mostly buried in sand, are an inevitable route. The horse-trapping ropes and animal snares buried in the sand are commonly used by bandits from the northern desert. With the yellow sands stretching for miles and the constantly changing terrain, it would be impossible for anyone to track us inch by inch. We’ve covered our tracks well.”

Mingzhu grunted and waved his hand, signaling for them to leave.

He hadn’t intended to put the Crown Prince in danger. After all, there were many people around him, and they weren’t helpless. However, slowing them down just a bit was perfect. If the Crown Prince was delayed, Kangxi’s dissatisfaction would only grow. Even if, later on, the anger subsided and Kangxi learned of the obstacles the Crown Prince faced on the road, so what? The Crown Prince had come the same way and had no delays.

People, after all, are most sensitive to comparisons.

What would the Emperor think if his son, whom he had high hopes for, was less dependable than his minister? At this moment, even if the Eldest Prince didn’t accomplish anything remarkable, Kangxi would surely look upon him more favorably, simply because he had led the way, charging ahead.

Mingzhu’s efforts were not in vain; he had quietly liaised with Concubine Hui and advised others to subtly encourage the Eldest Prince to accompany the army on this campaign.

Of course, the Crown Prince’s position was firmly established, and it would take more than just a few words to unseat him. But as Xunzi once said, and Mingzhu loved this saying:

“Without accumulating small steps, one cannot reach a thousand miles. Without accumulating small streams, one cannot form a river or sea.” He murmured to himself.

One day, all these small actions would come together like an unstoppable wave.

Mingzhu closed his eyes and smiled faintly. Indeed, fighting against heaven is one thing, but fighting against people… that’s where the real enjoyment lies.

But soon, his smile froze. The sound of thunderous hooves echoed from the mountain pass, and he immediately sat up, his expression turning serious as he listened to the noise outside.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before he received the news — the Crown Prince and the Third Prince had arrived!

#

The news of the Crown Prince’s departure from the capital was kept tightly under wraps.

Cheng Wanyun had no idea that the Crown Prince wasn’t in the palace. She thought he was just staying at the Six Ministries’ office, busy with official duties. However, on that day, He Baozhong had specially returned to see her. When he knelt to offer his greetings, he took extra care to advise her: “The Crown Prince is very busy these days and probably won’t have time to visit you, Gege. He asked me to tell you to rest and avoid seeing visitors, for your health’s sake.” He then handed her a letter and added, “The Crown Prince had someone deliver a message to your family, and we recently received a reply. Please take a look.”

This was a pleasant surprise. Cheng Wanyun took the letter with much gratitude. “Please thank the Crown Prince on my behalf,” she said.

Since entering the palace, she hadn’t received any news from home.

The palace was not a place where one could freely send messages to the outside world. When she had just entered Yuqing Palace last year, she was still unfamiliar with everything and dared not make any mistakes. Now that she was pregnant, she sometimes wondered if she could ask for a favor to send a letter to her family. But she was also cautious, fearing that others would think she was causing trouble or becoming arrogant because of her favor with the Crown Prince.

She hadn’t expected that the Crown Prince had already made all the arrangements for her.

Cheng Wanyun pressed the letter to her chest, suppressing the tightness in her throat, before lowering her head to open the letter.

The letter was nominally written by her stepmother, Mrs. Wu.

It began with news that everything was well at home, and they asked after her health. Then, it mentioned that her younger brother had done very well — he had initially taken part in a local examination just to try his luck, but unexpectedly, he passed and became the youngest scholar in Shexian. Moreover, her father’s evaluation at the end of last year had been excellent. With the joint efforts of the Crown Prince and her maternal grandfather, there was hope that he would be transferred to the capital and appointed to a position in one of the Six Ministries this year.

The Crown Prince had also recommended a teacher for her younger brother and had allowed her family to visit the palace. So, her father had quickly sent her stepmother and several siblings to the capital, where they would stay with her uncle, who lived in the Wu family’s household.

The Wu family was in business, owning two shops and a house in the capital. Her father had not found it easy to marry Mrs. Wu as a second wife. In Shexian, there was a saying: “In the north, Xu; in the south, Wu; in the east, Ye; in the west, Wang.” The Wu family was a prominent family in Shexian, a well-established gentry with many ancestors who had served as officials. For Master Cheng to establish himself in Shexian, he had to secure the support of such local influential families. Therefore, marrying a daughter from the Wu family was a great act of respect.

At the end of the letter, the handwriting changed, revealing it was Master Cheng’s personal writing. Some parts were smudged by tears, and it said that he had the responsibility to protect the land and could not leave without permission. He hoped they would be able to reunite in the future. He also expressed his wish for her to have a safe childbirth and mentioned that he had already sent her mother, Mrs. Wu, to a Taoist temple and a Buddhist monastery to ask for safety charms. He enclosed them in the letter and asked her to choose the one that seemed most effective and wear it.

Her father was still the same as ever—practical and religious in a utilitarian way.

Cheng Wanyun read the letter greedily three or four times before she tucked it under her pillow and slept with it every night. The safety charms in the letter were all sewn into a sachet and hung above the bed curtain made of green gauze.

When she was at home, her relationship with Mrs. Wu wasn’t exactly one of extreme filial piety, but upon learning that Mrs. Wu would be visiting the palace as a family member, Cheng Wanyun felt unexpectedly happy. She even looked back fondly on the small conflicts they had in the past, and they had now turned into beautiful memories.

Perhaps it was indeed true that distance makes the heart grow fonder, or perhaps it was because her position had changed, and her family now seemed more reliable to her.

That night, she dreamed of Shexian, the riverside lined with holly trees. Women were washing clothes by the clear water, the sound of their washing striking the air, and not far from the county office, there was a small ancient street. It was a place where she often went to wander, with shops selling calligraphy and painting materials, sundries, and medicinal herbs. There were also peddlers with baskets of steamed buns and fresh fruits, and the black-tiled, white-walled buildings filled with the sounds of their calls, drifting through the air.

Upon waking, she felt a deep, indescribable emotion in her heart.

It turned out that she had already come to consider Huizhou as her hometown, and it was natural that she missed the Cheng family.

While Cheng Wanyun was eating well, resting, and waiting for Mrs. Wu’s arrival in the capital, Yinreng was leading five hundred personal soldiers, eight carts of beads, two carts of medicine, and three imperial physicians, riding through the yellow sand on the official road.

They had to travel five to six hours a day, resting only when changing horses.

Gulu Fu’erjian Jia Hun’ga was still a hundred miles away from the capital, and after riding under the scorching sun for several hours, they were already drenched in sweat. Yinzhong, who wasn’t particularly skilled in martial arts, had his legs rubbed raw from riding, and when he couldn’t bear it any longer, he shouted, “Second Brother, let’s rest for a while! I can’t go on!”

Yinreng glanced back and saw that Yinzhong truly looked about to collapse. He raised his hand and tightened the reins, saying, “There’s an abandoned tea stall ahead. Let’s rest there for a quarter of an hour. We’ll be entering the desert soon, and after we switch to camels, it’ll be more comfortable.”

Yinzhong didn’t even respond, merely nodding in agreement.

The personal soldiers surrounded the tea stall, checked for any signs of people, and, finding it empty, invited Yinreng and Yinzhong inside.

The tea stall only had a roof and no seating. Yinzhong sat on the back of a bodyguard, panting heavily and fanning himself.

Yinreng, meanwhile, walked behind the tea stall, and A Chu followed him, whispering, “Master, I’ve learned that Minister Mingzhu left the capital two hours ahead of us. I’m afraid he’s already entered the desert.”

“Who’s following them?” Yinreng’s face was as grim as water.

“Yadang. He’s trailing far behind, not daring to get too close, afraid of being spotted by Minister Mingzhu’s men who are stationed behind.”

Yinreng nodded. “Understood.”

After that dream, Yinreng secretly reviewed the backgrounds of all the personal soldiers and attendants who were accompanying him to Gulu Fu’erjian Jia Hun’ga.

He had checked their family histories, ancestors, and even their relatives, but he found nothing suspicious. His attendants were from the Hesheri clan, known for their loyalty; his personal soldiers came from the top three banners of the imperial guard, thoroughly vetted by the emperor himself and had been checked multiple times.

Just like in the dream, Yinreng had received an imperial order from his father. When the troop was assembled, he was still puzzled. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the people around him, so where had the problem come from?

Along the way, Yinreng replayed the dream in his mind several times.

But the dream was too fragmented, changing too quickly. It wasn’t until he had turned the memories over and over that he suddenly realized he had noticed something odd: there seemed to be several camels tied up in the stables in the dream.

Emperor Kangxi led the army on a campaign but did not bring camels, which meant there were others… At that moment, a thought flashed through Yinreng’s mind, like a lightning bolt splitting the night, clearing the fog in his head. The secret imperial edict had not only been sent to him and the third prince; there must have been others who received the imperial order even earlier and reached Gulu Fu’erjian Jia Hun’ga faster than he did.

It couldn’t have been other princes—they were too young. It must have been high-ranking officials in the court!

The wind howled as Yinreng spurred his horse into a gallop, and everything clicked into place.

His father, the Emperor, must have called him and the third prince just in case something went wrong. This way, even if there were any issues, the third prince, as a royal prince, would represent the imperial family, and there would also be a senior official to witness it… There were not many senior officials in the court—just enough to make a difference. The Ministers of the Six Boards, like Li Guangdi, Xiong Cili, and Zhang Ying… but most of them were Han Chinese officials, and the Emperor would not choose them. It had to be a Manchu!

That left the Chief of the Imperial Guards: Suoetu, Tong Guogang, and Nalan Mingzhu… But Suoetu and Tong Guogang had already gone to the front lines. Only Nalan Mingzhu was left in the capital!

Once Yinreng thought of this, everything became clear.

So, while resting during the horse change, he secretly sent people on two different routes: one to return to the capital and track Minister Mingzhu’s movements, and the other to switch to fast horses and pursue along the road.

Now, with A Chu returning, it seemed both parties had results, and his guess was correct.

Mingzhu was faster than him. For now, he couldn’t catch up, but he had an idea of what Mingzhu was planning. He feared that the eldest prince’s successful participation in the campaign would, in no small part, be due to Mingzhu’s efforts behind the scenes.

The situation was clear now, and Yinreng felt less fearful. Seeing that Yinzhong’s leg had been treated by the imperial doctors, with ointment and cotton padding, Yinreng ordered them to continue their journey.

In the scorching desert heat of July, the wind blew relentlessly, and after just a short time, everyone’s lips cracked, and their eyes were sore from the sand and dust. Yinzhong was drenched in sweat, lying motionless on the camel. Before him stretched endless yellow sand, the shifting dunes appearing like a giant hand ready to strike down…

Yinzhong felt as if he were about to be roasted alive.

Fortunately, as the day turned to evening, the heat in the air seemed to be sucked away, quickly turning cool.

As night fell, Yinzhong began to feel cold again. He cursed the weather under his breath, not noticing that they had already passed through several areas of buried ruins. Suddenly, he heard one of the vanguard soldiers shout, “Who goes there?”

The soldiers quickly dismounted their camels and chased after two figures fleeing in the distance.

Before Yinzhong could react, he noticed the tall horse under the Crown Prince suddenly rear up and neigh, throwing the Prince forcefully onto the scorching sand and stone pile.

“Second Brother!” Yinzhong was terrified and immediately spurred his horse forward.

“Your Highness!” The remaining soldiers and attendants were all frantic, rushing to surround the Crown Prince. If anything were to happen to him, they would all be held responsible!

Fortunately, the desert ground, soft with shifting sand, was not too hard. The group helped the Crown Prince up. He was still conscious and did not appear seriously injured, though his left foot had been cut by a sharp stone, leaving a bloody gash.

Yinreng leaned against his horse, remaining calm, and said, “It’s nothing. Don’t crowd around. You go ahead and help capture those bandits alive!”

The attending physician immediately opened his medical kit to clean and dress the wound. Yinzhong, still worried, asked, “Second Brother, how can we continue the journey now? Should we ask the nearby village if they have a cart, and we can continue by vehicle?”

Yinreng’s face and body were covered in sand, looking disheveled, but his gaze remained firm as he shook his head, “There are no villages in these desolate places. We can’t afford any delays with the Emperor’s summons. Just listen to me. You’re tired too, so sit down and have some water. Once we’ve caught those bandits, we can continue.”

By now, Mingzhu might have already reached the Emperor, and if they delay any further, Mingzhu could easily manipulate the situation with his silver tongue.

Yinzhong reluctantly held back his words. He understood the Emperor’s intention. With the Emperor leading the army, there would naturally be physicians accompanying him, so the imperial camp wouldn’t be lacking in medical care. The real reason for the hurry was likely to ensure that, in case anything happened, the Crown Prince could swiftly take over the empire. As for him, he was just a shield, a pawn to divert attention. The urgency with which the Crown Prince rushed forward—was it true filial piety, or was there something else?

Yinzhong lowered his gaze, took the leather water bag passed to him by an attendant, and took a few sips. A feeling of dark jealousy began to bubble up inside him, like water about to boil, its bubbles rising beneath the seemingly calm surface.

Yinreng allowed the physician to stabilize his leg, padding it with cotton and gauze, tightly bound to avoid further injury while riding.

The dream had already warned him that he would be injured here. Upon arriving and seeing the ruins, he recognized the place immediately. However, after careful consideration, Yinreng decided to go along with the situation—his injury might make the Emperor less angry.

If they crossed this small desert and walked another ten miles, they would reach the mountain pass. It would only take another hour or two of suffering. This small pain, he could endure.

Yinreng gave a self-deprecating smile, pulling at the corner of his mouth.

However, this time, he did not let Yinzhong go ahead. Yinzhong was already exhausted, and he was more than willing to rest a bit longer, so he naturally did not object.

After about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, the soldiers who had gone after the thieves returned, dragging a corpse behind them as they apologized, “Your Highness, please forgive us. We were useless. We only captured one, and we didn’t watch closely enough, so he ended up dying.”

The corpse had a deep gash across its neck, and its chest was soaked in blood. It seemed that the person, realizing the situation had gone badly, had immediately slashed his own throat with a dagger.

Yinreng sat on the sand, looking at the corpse’s rough clothing. The person appeared quite ordinary, and someone like this could easily blend into a crowd without being recognized. He pondered for a while, then asked, “Did you search his body?”

“We did. There were a few horse ropes tied around his waist. He’s probably one of the local bandits.”

Yinreng glanced at the body again but felt something was off. This person’s skin was neither too dark nor too red, not like someone who had spent their life in the desert. Moreover, bandits were typically cowardly and feared death. How could this one be so decisive, committing suicide by knife? However, he had already formed a plan in his mind and said in a deep voice, “Take the body with us and continue on our journey.”

With the help of the guards, Yinreng got back on his horse. His leg injury made it impossible for him to ride at full speed, so he held the reins and trotted along. They didn’t leave the desert until nightfall. After crossing a narrow mountain path, they were spotted by the Imperial Guard who had been on watch from a distance. A general rode over to pay his respects: “Greetings to the Crown Prince, greetings to the Third Prince.”

After exchanging courtesies and checking the identification tokens, Yinreng instructed him to lead the way.

The general, seeing the Crown Prince supported by the limping Third Prince, couldn’t help but glance twice, but he was quickly met with a stern look from A Chu by Yinreng’s side. He dared not ask any further questions and focused on leading the way.

Kangxi’s camp was located in a hidden mountain hollow, where three shifts of the Imperial Guards stood watch, holding pine torches. Although it was already dark, the large tent still had lights burning inside. Yinreng and Yinzhong knelt before the tent to await their audience. After a while, they heard the muffled sound of a cough and Kangxi’s authoritative voice calling, “Come in.”

Inside the tent, Kangxi was reclining on the bed, with a book beside him, indicating he had been reading earlier. On one side stood Liang Jiugong, while on the other sat Mingzhu.

As soon as Yinreng entered, he noticed Mingzhu sitting and tasting the medicine for Kangxi. He paused momentarily but quickly composed himself and knelt in front of the bed. “Your son pays his respects to the Emperor!”

Mingzhu, clever and well-trusted by Kangxi, could not speak of the events from the dream, so he carefully maintained his silence, knowing that revealing the truth would provoke Yinreng’s anger. Yinreng, holding back his resentment, managed to control himself but wished to punch Mingzhu’s smiling, treacherous face.

Kangxi saw his two sons covered in yellow sand and dirt, especially noticing that the Crown Prince was having difficulty walking. His expression softened instantly, and his previous displeasure disappeared. He propped himself up and asked, “Baocheng, what happened to your leg?”

“It’s nothing, Father. We were ambushed by a group of bandits on the road, and in the chaos, my horse startled, and I twisted my foot. That’s why we’re late. Please forgive me, Father!” Yinreng limped to the bedside and, seeing Kangxi’s haggard appearance, his eyes reddened as he knelt and kowtowed. “Has Father’s health improved? I brought a physician and some medicine. Shall I have them come in and examine you?”

“What! Such bold bandits?” Kangxi was taken aback. The Crown Prince always had soldiers with him when leaving, and yet these bandits didn’t retreat? He was already planning to send a group of men to clean up the area.

“They fled as soon as they saw us, but one was still killed by the soldiers,” Yinreng replied slowly, glancing at Mingzhu, who was displaying a look of surprise.

“I was lucky on my way here, I didn’t run into them,” Mingzhu added naturally. “It must have been a small group of roaming bandits, nothing to worry about.”

Kangxi felt slightly reassured.

As he spoke, several physicians brought by the Crown Prince entered. When Kangxi saw them, he remarked, “I’m in excellent health; it’s just a bit of wind and cold. Do you really need so many people? Have you emptied out the Imperial Medical Office?”

However, Yinreng insisted that all the physicians examine and diagnose him, and only when they confirmed it was a minor ailment did he finally relax.

At that moment, one of the physicians bowed and said, “Your Highness, it’s time to change the dressing on your leg.”

Yinreng signaled to the physician with his eyes, but Kangxi caught him and scowled, saying, “What are you signaling for? Do you have something to hide from me? Change it here!”

Yinreng had no choice but to comply. A Chu brought over a chair for him to sit on. He slowly rolled up his pant leg, untied the cotton cloth, and peeled back the gauze. The long wound was raw and swollen, with herbal paste applied, but it was still red and inflamed. Kangxi’s eyebrows furrowed deeply when he saw it. “This is just a sprain? Why not tell the truth?”

“It’s really nothing, just a flesh wound. Father doesn’t need to worry…”

Seeing how Yinreng clenched his teeth, sweat pouring down his forehead as he changed the dressing, Kangxi felt a pang of sympathy and said, “Since you’ve injured your leg, why did you push yourself to travel through the night? What if the wound gets worse?”

At that moment, Mingzhu’s eyes gleamed with a trace of interest.

Previously, Mingzhu had been speaking highly of the Crown Prince’s administrative skills in front of Kangxi, ostensibly to highlight how the Crown Prince used this opportunity to forge ties with officials, receiving flattery from everyone, even making grand statements like “as solid as Mount Tai.”

If the Crown Prince is as solid as Mount Tai, then what does that make the Emperor?

Kangxi’s expression had clearly been moved by Mingzhu’s words at the time. Mingzhu, who understood Kangxi’s mindset well, could tell that his words had struck a chord, seeing the thorn that had taken root in the Emperor’s heart.

But now, the Crown Prince had arrived so quickly. The trap Mingzhu had set to delay him had instead turned into the Crown Prince’s clever strategy to gain Kangxi’s trust.

It seemed Mingzhu had shot himself in the foot. He had also lost a trusted confidant. Tsk.

But, it wasn’t in vain. As soon as he received the news, he rushed to take the eunuch’s job of delivering medicine, staying in the tent just to see for himself how the Crown Prince would handle this situation. He certainly hadn’t been disappointed.

How had the Crown Prince reacted so quickly this time? He didn’t seem as easy to manipulate as before. Mingzhu thoughtfully stroked his chin. Finding another opportunity would likely be difficult now.

What a pity.

Mingzhu watched the scene before him, where father and son shared a tender moment, and then glanced at the Third Prince, who was standing awkwardly to the side, unable to join the conversation. He didn’t miss the discomfort hidden in Yinzhong’s eyes.

So, he stood up and said, “Your Majesty, it’s getting late. I will take the Third Prince outside and get him settled.”

Kangxi suddenly remembered his other son and felt a bit embarrassed. Seeing Yinzhong’s unpleasant expression, he quickly gave his approval, then turned to the Crown Prince and said, “Baocheng’s leg injury is serious, so he will sleep here.”

Mingzhu smiled at Yinzhong and said, “The conditions outside are not good, so please forgive me, Third Prince. Please follow me…”

“Thank you, Minister Mingzhu.” Yinzhong gave a bitter smile, then followed Mingzhu out, his expression downcast.

Yinreng watched their backs as many thoughts swirled in his mind.

Kangxi, meanwhile, carefully turned to observe the physician changing the dressing on Yinreng’s leg, occasionally instructing, “Be gentle, hey, gentler…”

Yinreng stood in a daze, his thoughts scattered. All the grievances and pain he had felt during the journey seemed to dissipate with those two words of concern.

His father clearly treated him well, but why was he always being provoked into doubting him? Had he not done enough?

He couldn’t help but sigh to himself.

When the new medicine was ready, Yinreng personally took a sip to test the taste before serving it to Kangxi. Then, he took out a piece of candy wrapped in oiled paper from his sleeve and said, “Father, suck on this to ease the bitterness.”

“Do you think I’m a child?” Kangxi said this, but he accepted the candy and ate it, only to realize that the cool sweetness relieved the dryness and pain in his throat.

“This candy is made with mint. Your throat must be sore, and your taste buds are likely dulled. This will make you feel a little better,” Yinreng explained, carefully tucking the blanket around Kangxi. “It was made by a young lady, Cheng Gege, from my side. She’s been very attentive when I’ve had heat in my body. You probably don’t know, but she’s pregnant now.”

Upon hearing this, Kangxi seemed genuinely pleased. “She is fortunate, and it’s good she can help you expand your family.” He then asked about the youngest son of the Crown Prince, how his shoulder and elbow were doing. Were the attendants looking after him carefully?

Yinreng patiently chatted for a while. Kangxi, weakened by illness, grew more and more drowsy and eventually fell asleep. Only then did Yinreng instruct the servant to bring over a blanket, curling up at the foot of Kangxi’s bed and laying out a makeshift bedding on the floor.

He was exhausted. These past days, not only had his mind been as tense as a drawn bowstring, but his body was also nearly worn out. Yet, he couldn’t fall asleep immediately. In the dark of the night, he lay awake, thinking about the dream and what was to come.

Now, it seemed he had passed the first hurdle. His father wasn’t seriously ill, and he hadn’t been hurriedly sent back to the capital.

In the dream, he had tried to hide his leg injury and had fallen into Mingzhu’s trap, only to deepen his father’s misunderstanding. Now, he couldn’t be bothered to conceal things any longer. Just like A Wan had straightforwardly said, it felt like he had burned his hands. He had chosen to lay his heart bare for his father to see.

But this heart was scarred, and Kangxi didn’t know.

Yinreng suppressed the slight bitterness in his heart and rose at the faint light of dawn. When he carefully stood up, Kangxi was still deeply asleep, and outside, there was only silence, with the occasional sound of horses snorting.

After freshening up with the servant’s help, he went to the kitchen and asked the cook to add shredded radish and a bit of preserved meat to the porridge, making a rich pot of vegetarian congee, preparing to personally bring it into the main tent.

As he came out, he happened to encounter Mingzhu, who was stretching and yawning while walking out of the tent. Yinreng stopped.

Mingzhu, upon seeing him, smiled widely, leaning on his cane, and approached to greet him. “Good morning, Your Highness. Are you preparing to serve His Majesty breakfast? Otherwise, how could His Majesty be so fond of you, when the Third Prince is still asleep?”

Mingzhu really had a way with words… It seemed like he couldn’t speak without stirring up trouble. Yinreng glanced at him and said coldly, “Minister Mingzhu, did you see the thief’s body that was thrown into the firewood shed? Do you recognize it?”

“Your Highness is joking,” Mingzhu said, not the least bit bothered, his smile remaining as he squinted his eyes, “I don’t deal with the Ministry of Justice, and I don’t have any interest in such matters. Why bother with such filthy things? As for recognizing it, what do you mean by that, Your Highness?”

“Nothing in particular,” Yinreng replied, his tone cold and sharp as a knife, “Minister Mingzhu, do take care.”

After speaking, without sparing a glance at Mingzhu’s expression, Yinreng strode into the imperial tent, leaving the curtain fluttering behind him.

Mingzhu stood there for a moment, staring at the curtain, before finally turning around and leaving.

Kangxi woke up around noon, covered in sweat, and his mind was becoming clearer. When he saw Yinreng bringing in the congee, he lay on his bed and ate it, asking about the affairs in the court over the past few days: “Has anyone been foolish enough to act out while I was away?”

Yinreng answered everything one by one. Kangxi noticed that he spoke without hurry or impatience, and he didn’t make any decisions unilaterally. Whether big or small matters, he always consulted with the officials. If there was something undecided, Yinreng had written a memorial and brought it with him for Kangxi to review. Kangxi was reassured and felt much more at ease.

The Crown Prince didn’t lose his composure after hearing a few words of flattery, and he knew how to respect his father, which showed that Yinreng was very sensible and had a good sense of propriety. The real issue lay with those who harbored ulterior motives. They were still around, eagerly trying to win the Crown Prince’s favor. Mingzhu’s words had not gone unheard by Kangxi, but this time, his anger was directed at others, not his son.

Kangxi mentally took note of all the flattering officials.

However… the Crown Prince managed to arrive so quickly, despite the short time, without neglecting the trivial matters of the court, which impressed Kangxi even more.

As they continued talking, Kangxi realized that Yinreng was thorough in his planning, managing things well, and handling state affairs in a way that aligned perfectly with Kangxi’s own ideas. This made him even more pleased. He patted Yinreng on the shoulder and said, “Well done.”

The father and son spent half the day reviewing memorials together, and Kangxi then issued an imperial decree to send orders to Bolo and the Tuntian generals.

He was in poor health, and his plans to lead a military expedition were abruptly halted. This left him feeling frustrated and helpless. Worse still, he received a military report early that morning. Changning’s troops had reached Wuzhumuqin, where they encountered a narrow path, only to be defeated by Galdan’s forces. General Tong Guogang was killed in battle, and the army had to retreat south. Galdan relentlessly pursued them. By the time Kangxi received the report, the enemy had already crossed the Shalamulun River and was about to meet with Prince Yuying Fuchuan.

Kangxi hurriedly ordered the right-wing army to reinforce Fuchuan, ensuring that Galdan was blocked at the upper reaches of the Shalamulun River.

By the end of July, the two sides clashed at Ulan Butong. The Qing army, relying on artillery, decisively defeated Galdan’s “Camel City.” However, Prince Fuchuan of Yuying fell for Galdan’s ruse of surrender and, in the process, inadvertently allowed him to escape. Galdan set fires and fled across the border.

By October, Galdan had completely vanished. At this time, Yinreng had already accompanied Kangxi back to the capital.

Thus, the military expedition ended abruptly. Though they had won a major victory, Galdan was not completely eradicated. Moreover, Changning had suffered a crushing defeat at Wuzhumuqin, and the Tong family matriarch had been constantly entering the palace to cry, which caused Kangxi to feel embarrassed. As a result, no one dared to bring up the matter of the military campaign within the palace anymore.

Kangxi was brooding, and the entire palace was tense. Yinreng, too, followed suit. Every day, he practiced his calligraphy diligently. In the evenings, after returning from the study, he would first finish his academic work before doing anything else.

Once he finished, he would then go to the rear room.

When He Baozhong saw the Crown Prince set down his pen, he knew Yinreng was about to visit Cheng Gege. So, he stepped ahead, raised the curtain, and smiled warmly like a blooming chrysanthemum in the courtyard. “Your Highness, please watch your step.”

Yinreng gave him a strange look, clearly displeased. “Why are you smiling like that? What’s going on?”

He Baozhong chuckled awkwardly, managing to hold his ground without confessing. “You’ll know when you get there.”