Yuqing Palace.
From the moment Yinreng left Qianqing Palace, the System in his mind had not stopped lecturing him.
[Host! You made a terrible strategic error!] the System nagged. [As a responsible AI assistant, I must point out your mistake. You cannot commandeer Songgotu. He is a First-Rank Grand Secretary of the Baohe Hall! He and Mingzhu are the two pillars of the imperial court. I understand you need an agent to execute your modern technological projects, but any competent subordinate would do. If you want to give the Hesheri clan merit, choose his sons. Having Songgotu maintain political power in court while the clan builds merit outside is the optimal strategy! You must ask the Emperor to return him tomorrow!]
Yinreng let the servants undress him and climbed into bed before finally responding. "Are you finished? Then shut up. I am going to sleep. By the way, check your database. Play Mozart's 'Lullaby'. Or perhaps Schumann's 'Fantasie' or Mendelssohn's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'."
[...] The System was momentarily speechless, offended that its political analysis was being ignored for bedtime music. Then, its processing unit stalled.
[Wait. Host! How do you know about Mozart, Schumann, and Mendelssohn?!] Not only were they foreign composers, but the timeline was entirely wrong. Mozart would not be born until the 1750s. Schumann and Mendelssohn were 19th-century figures. The current year was the 19th year of Kangxi's reign—1680 AD. Mozart wouldn't be born for another seventy years!
[Host! Are you a—]
"Play the music or stay quiet. You are annoying," Yinreng interrupted sharply, pulling up the blanket and going to sleep.
[...] The System internally screamed, abandoning its polite programming in sheer frustration.
***
The next day, Yinreng completed his morning literature and afternoon martial arts classes. Upon returning to Yuqing Palace, a servant announced that Songgotu was requesting an audience.
Analysis: Songgotu's timing was precise. He had clearly received news of his reassignment and had come to reject the position.
Before Songgotu could even kneel, Yinreng struck first. "Uncle! Perfect timing. I have two crucial tasks for you."
Songgotu took a deep breath, executing his prepared excuse. "Your Highness, I am afraid my skills are best suited for court administration. I am ill-equipped to handle these practical errands. I fear I will fail you."
"Do not be modest, Uncle. You handled the glass workshop perfectly. I trust you."
Songgotu opened his mouth to protest, but Yinreng raised a hand, his tone turning sharp. "Are court matters the only matters of importance? Are my affairs beneath you? If you can manage the imperial court, you can certainly manage my requests—unless, of course, you simply 'do not want' to serve me."
The subtle accusation hit its mark. Songgotu's heart skipped a beat, and he immediately lowered his head in submission.
Satisfied, Yinreng pointed to a chair. "Sit. I have summoned Imperial Physician Liu."
Physician Liu arrived shortly after. He was the doctor primarily responsible for Yinreng's routine checkups.
"I greet the Crown Prince," Liu bowed. "Are you feeling unwell?"
"I am perfectly fine," Yinreng smiled. "I summoned you to ask a medical question. You were part of the team that treated me for smallpox the year before last, correct?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"How many smallpox patients have you personally treated?"
Though confused by the inquiry, Physician Liu answered precisely. "One hundred and seventeen."
"You are that certain of the exact number?"
"It is my habit to record complex cases in a dedicated ledger. Smallpox is a national crisis; I review my records constantly."
'Excellent. A data-driven professional.' Yinreng nodded. "Of those one hundred and seventeen, how many survived?"
"Fewer than thirty percent. And that is among patients who lacked neither medicine nor funds."
Context: Survival depended on the severity of the strain, the patient's constitution, and medical resources. If aristocrats had a 30% survival rate, the commoner mortality rate was undeniably apocalyptic.
Yinreng set down his teacup. "Have you ever seen a cow contract the pox?"
He then systematically relayed the information he had extracted from the village woman the previous day: the cow falling ill first, the village lockdown, the subsequent human infections, and most importantly, the unusually mild symptoms and zero mortality rate among those infected by the cow.
Physician Liu frowned in thought. "Such cases exist. I encountered one years ago. However, the disease was already rampant in the region, so it was impossible to determine whether the cow infected the humans or vice versa."
"According to my intelligence, the cow in this specific village was the origin point," Yinreng countered logically. "If both you and this woman have encountered cowpox, it is not an isolated incident. I want you to accompany my Uncle Songgotu to the provinces. Investigate this phenomenon and compile a comprehensive data set."
"Why the sudden interest in this, Your Highness?" Liu asked, bewildered.
"Smallpox is too lethal. When I survived it, it was a harrowing ordeal. Yet, this village supposedly had no casualties, and everyone suffered only mild symptoms. If the only variable distinguishing their survival from standard mortality rates is the infected cow, then the cow is the key to prevention."
Physician Liu was a dedicated researcher. As Yinreng laid out the logical progression, realization struck him like a physical blow. His eyes widened in absolute shock.
Cause and Effect: If cowpox was a weaker variant... and if humans could catch it...
"Yes!" Liu practically shouted, trembling with excitement. "In the village I observed, the mild cases far outnumbered the severe ones! If we can prove that the bovine strain is easier to survive... and since surviving any pox grants lifetime immunity... Your Highness, we could intentionally infect people with the cowpox! We could conquer the disease entirely!"
Physician Liu was incoherent with joy.
Sitting nearby, Songgotu was utterly baffled. 'Conquer smallpox? The plague that has terrorized humanity for centuries? The Crown Prince is playing a child's guessing game, and the imperial doctor has lost his mind along with him!'
"I will prepare immediately!" Liu declared.
"There is no need to rush. You have duties at the Imperial Hospital," Yinreng said calmly. "Send your most talented apprentices to gather the data."
"No! This is too monumental!" Liu refused vehemently. "My apprentices are too young. I must verify this myself. I will petition the Emperor for a leave of absence immediately. If he approves, I leave today!"
Without waiting for dismissal, Liu bowed frantically and sprinted out the door to gather his medical records.
***
With Liu gone, Songgotu saw another opening to escape. "Your Highness, my clan has many capable young men. My two sons, Gelfin and Aljishan, are obedient and diligent. Perhaps they could assist Physician Liu instead of me?"
Yinreng's expression cooled. "Uncle, this task requires 'you'."
Songgotu swallowed a groan of frustration.
Yinreng dismissed all the servants from the room, leaving only the two of them. The atmosphere shifted from casual to dangerously serious.
"Uncle, you believe I am merely playing childish games, do you not?"
Songgotu remained silent. 'Obviously.'
"You thought the same when I ordered you to manufacture glass," Yinreng pointed out.
'That was sheer dumb luck,' Songgotu thought bitterly. 'You cannot strike gold twice.'
"You do not believe in my vision," Yinreng sighed. He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "Tell me, do you think Imperial Father also believes I am just playing games?"
Songgotu froze. Guessing the Emperor's true intentions was a dangerous game.
"Imperial Father knows these projects are not urgent, and he knows they do not require a Grand Secretary," Yinreng stated coldly. "So why did he agree to remove you from the court and assign you to me?"
A chilling realization began to creep up Songgotu's spine. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
"You think too narrowly, Uncle," Yinreng analyzed, his voice low and razor-sharp. "At court, you are locked in a bitter factional war with Mingzhu. You fear that if you leave, Mingzhu will monopolize power. But consider the reality: you have been absent from court for months working on the glass project. Has Mingzhu seized absolute control?"
Songgotu blinked. Despite his absence, he maintained informants. The answer was no. In fact, Kangxi had subtly reprimanded and suppressed Mingzhu multiple times recently.
"Do you understand now?" Yinreng asked. "It is the Emperor's art of balance. If you are not there to oppose Mingzhu, the Emperor will elevate the Tong family or other factions to suppress him. Mingzhu will never be allowed to dominate. Imperial Father agreed to my request because he 'wants' you out of the crossfire temporarily."
"But... then I can just stop fighting with Mingzhu and remain at court," Songgotu pleaded, unwilling to let go of his political influence.
Yinreng let out a harsh, cynical laugh. "Are you that addicted to the illusion of power? Expand your vision beyond the petty squabbles of the throne room!"
He stood up, looking down at his uncle. "The Ministry of Works has already seen the glass prototypes. Have those opportunistic officials treated you like a banished exile? No. They revere you because you hold the key to a massive economic monopoly. Once you confirm the smallpox prevention method, you will hold the lives of the entire empire in your hands. With such monumental, undeniable merits, wealth and absolute authority are guaranteed. Why would you chain yourself to exhausting court politics when you can build a legacy that transcends it?"
Songgotu's mind raced. The logic was flawless—'if' the medical theory proved correct.
Sensing his uncle's lingering hesitation, Yinreng delivered the final, crushing blow.
"Understand this one fundamental truth, Uncle," Yinreng's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "As long as I stand securely as the Crown Prince, the Hesheri clan will thrive. But if you achieve the highest rank in the empire, yet lose my favor and trust... your power will collapse overnight. Do not mistake your position at court as your true source of power. I am your foundation. Do not alienate me."
It was a stark reminder and a ruthless warning.
Songgotu shuddered violently. He looked at the six-year-old boy and felt true fear. He dropped firmly to his knees. "I understand completely, Your Highness! I will execute your orders without question!"
As Songgotu exited Yuqing Palace, the summer air felt freezing.
Analysis: He was terrified, yet profoundly invigorated. The Crown Prince was only six years old, but his grasp of imperial psychology, political balance, and manipulation was terrifyingly mature. A child this brilliant and ruthless was a supreme blessing for the Hesheri clan's future.
Inside the host's mind, the System was experiencing an existential crisis.
Conclusion: The host was not an idiot. He was a political mastermind. Removing Songgotu was not a blunder; it was a calculated masterstroke that protected his uncle while simultaneously testing his loyalty.
[So... I am the clown here?] the System muttered.