By August, the summer heat began to fade, and the approaching Mid-Autumn Festival brought a crispness to the air. Yinreng had shed his summer silks for an apricot-yellow autumn python robe embroidered with silver threads. He stood eagerly at the forefront of a grand assembly outside the palace gates, right beside Emperor Kangxi. Behind them stood the entire imperial harem and the other princes.
They were waiting for the Grand Empress Dowager to return to the capital.
As the imperial carriage arrived, the assembly knelt. Kangxi stepped forward to personally assist his grandmother out of the carriage. Yinreng, quick on his feet, ran up to support her other arm, flanking her opposite his father.
"Great-Grandmother!" Yinreng beamed. "You have been away for over half a year. I thought you had forgotten your Baocheng!"
The Grand Empress Dowager looked down at him, her eyes curving into warm crescents. "How could I ever forget my adorable Baocheng?"
Yinreng's eyes sparkled. "Did you miss me? Because I thought about you day and night!"
"I missed you very much," she chuckled.
"I heard you fell seriously ill," the Grand Empress Dowager said, gently stroking his head. "Are you fully recovered?"
"That was half a year ago! I am perfectly fine now. I am sorry for making Great-Grandmother worry!"
Seeing his rosy cheeks and sturdy posture, she relaxed. After motioning for the concubines to rise and briefly exchanging pleasantries with the other princes, her age showed, and fatigue settled over her features. Noticing this, Kangxi dismissed the assembly and personally escorted her to Cining Palace.
Yinreng trailed behind them like a little tail. Once the Grand Empress Dowager was comfortably resting on her divan, Yinreng turned to Kangxi and waved him off like a miniature adult. "Imperial Father, you have government affairs to attend to. Leave this to me. I will take care of Great-Grandmother."
Kangxi let out a short, amused laugh. "You? Take care of someone? It is a miracle you let others take care of you properly."
He was about to scold the boy further, but the Grand Empress Dowager smiled. "Baocheng is right. The state comes first, Emperor. Go attend to your duties."
Kangxi did have pressing matters. "Do not cause trouble," he warned Yinreng, casting him a stern look. "Your Great-Grandmother is exhausted. Do not disturb her rest. Speak with her for a short while, then return to Yuqing Palace."
The moment Kangxi left, Yinreng immediately complained to his great-grandmother. "I am already grown up, but Imperial Father still treats me like a three-year-old. Who says I cannot take care of people?"
The Grand Empress Dowager and her loyal confidant, Sumalagu, shared a soft laugh.
Hmph! Yinreng puffed out his cheeks. To prove his competence, he aggressively took over the servants' duties—pouring tea, peeling fruit, and even helping his great-grandmother remove her heavy outer robes.
Touched by his filial piety, the old woman asked from her bed, "Are you sleepy, Baocheng?"
The energy of a six-year-old was finite. Yinreng nodded honestly.
"Come up and sleep beside me," she offered.
Any other prince would have fallen to their knees in terror, apologizing for overstepping bounds, and hastily retreated. But Yinreng was different. Until his Eastern Palace was completed earlier that year, he had lived with Kangxi in Qianqing Palace and frequently stayed in Cining Palace. He simply kicked off his shoes, climbed into the bed, and snuggled against his great-grandmother.
Internal Monologue: Yinreng genuinely loved her. Aside from Kangxi, she was the only person in the palace who truly cared for him. And unlike Kangxi, whose love was divided among an ever-growing number of sons, the Grand Empress Dowager's affection was exclusive. She was too old and tired to care for dozens of great-grandchildren. The other princes rarely saw her and only maintained surface-level respect. Yinreng was her sole exception.
***
Yinreng slept deeply. When he drifted back to consciousness, he realized he had been moved to a soft couch behind a decorative folding screen, separated from the main bed.
Through the translucent silk of the screen, he saw the silhouette of Kangxi sitting by the bed.
"Grandmother," Kangxi's low voice drifted over, "how is he?"
Yinreng was about to call out, but the unusual solemnity in his father's tone made him snap his mouth shut.
"He is well," the Grand Empress Dowager replied softly. "Mount Wutai is not as luxurious as the palace, but it is not destitute. With the supplies you send annually, he lacks nothing. The temple assigned two young monks to attend to his daily needs. His days consist only of copying scriptures and chanting sutras, but he finds joy and freedom in it."
Kangxi let out a heavy sigh of relief. "That is good. Once I completely suppress the Revolt of the Three Feudatories and have some free time, I will go visit Imperial Father."
'Wait.' Yinreng froze on the couch, his eyes wide open in shock.
'Imperial Father?' The only person Kangxi could call "Imperial Father" was the previous emperor, Shunzhi. But historical records explicitly stated that Emperor Shunzhi died of smallpox at the age of twenty-four and was buried in the Qing Xiaoling Mausoleum. There had always been wild rumors that he faked his death to become a monk at Mount Wutai, but... those were supposed to be myths!
Analysis: If the Grand Empress Dowager had just returned from a half-year "pilgrimage" to Mount Wutai, and Kangxi was asking about his "Imperial Father" living there with monks... the myth was true!
Terrified of being discovered eavesdropping on the greatest state secret of the dynasty, Yinreng squeezed his eyes shut and regulated his breathing, pretending to be deeply asleep.
"Do not go," the Grand Empress Dowager advised firmly. "To the world, and to the history books, he is dead and buried in the Xiaoling Mausoleum. I am an old woman; I can use Buddhist devotion as an excuse to visit. But you are the Emperor. Thousands of eyes watch your every move. His existence must never be exposed."
Kangxi hesitated, torn between filial duty and political reality.
"Furthermore," she added, her voice laced with a bitter, self-deprecating sorrow, "he does not want us there. He told me he has severed all ties to the mortal world. He called me 'Benefactor.' He told me not to return, and the same applies to you. Even if you go, he will not see you."
"He must be worried about the toll the journey takes on you," Kangxi tried to comfort her.
The old woman shook her head. No one knew the fractured reality of her relationship with her son better than she did. When Fulin (Shunzhi) first took the throne as a child, they relied on each other to survive the vicious court politics against Dorgon. But when he came of age, she struggled to relinquish power. The friction grew into a chasm. By the time she realized her mistake and stepped back, it was too late. The mother and son had become estranged.
Determined not to repeat history, she had aggressively stepped away from politics when Kangxi took the throne.
Not wanting to dwell on the painful past, she changed the subject. "How are matters in the palace?"
Kangxi smoothly transitioned. "I wish to consult you on a matter. I am considering adopting the Seventh Prince out to the line of Prince Chunjing."
Context: Prince Chunjing was Kangxi's half-brother, who died the previous year at age nineteen without a surviving heir. It was common practice for the Emperor to adopt out one of his own sons to continue a deceased brother's lineage.
However, Yinreng, listening behind the screen, felt a cold knot form in his stomach. Kangxi had never been close to that particular brother. And the timing was painfully obvious. The newly born Seventh Prince, Yin You, was the one born with a deformed leg.
Analysis: Kangxi was discarding a disabled son.
Yinreng felt a surge of disgust. 'What kind of father throws away a child just because he isn't perfect?' Yet, immediately following the disgust came a chilling realization. Kangxi had many sons. He discarded the flawed ones and showered his favor on the "perfect" heir—Yinreng himself. Yinreng had no right to judge Kangxi's cruelty, because he was the primary beneficiary of it.
"I saw Yin You today," the Grand Empress Dowager frowned. "He is a sweet, plump child who smiles easily. If you have decided, then do as you wish. But I must point out that if you want to show imperial grace by continuing a brother's line, giving him a disabled prince is highly inappropriate. People will gossip. A healthy prince from the broader imperial clan would be better."
"I had the same concern," Kangxi admitted. "However, Concubine Daijia herself suggested it. She pointed out that Prince Chunjing was the seventh son of the previous emperor, and Yin You is my seventh son. She believes it is destiny. Furthermore, Yin You's defect is mild; the physicians say it will not severely hinder his mobility or his ability to ride and shoot."
"Daijia suggested it herself?" The Grand Empress Dowager was momentarily stunned.
Behind the screen, Yinreng's mind reeled. 'Why would a mother voluntarily give away her biological son, whom she risked her life to birth?'
After a moment of thought, the Grand Empress Dowager understood the concubine's desperate strategy. A disabled prince had no future in the palace; he would only face mockery and neglect. By adopting him out, Daijia ensured her son would inherit an iron-cap princely title and a life of guaranteed luxury and respect away from the vicious succession wars. It was a mother's ultimate sacrifice.
"Do as you see fit," the old woman sighed, not wanting to interfere in the harem's survival tactics.
"It is a major decision. I will consider it further," Kangxi nodded.
Behind the screen, Yinreng remained perfectly still, his mind spinning. The fake death of an Emperor and the calculated discarding of a crippled prince... The imperial family was far darker and more complex than he had ever imagined.