"Imperial Father, is this arrangement truly optimal?" Yinreng asked as they walked away from the glass shop.
"What do you find lacking?" Emperor Kangxi countered.
"There are thousands of officials in the court, yet only Uncle Songgotu was granted this monopoly."
Kangxi chuckled. "The entire court knows Songgotu oversaw the creation of the glass formula. Granting him a special permit is a logical reward. No one can openly protest it."
"Perhaps," Yinreng muttered, playing with his fingers, his mind calculating.
Context: Kangxi knew his son perfectly. That specific gesture meant Yinreng was devising a scheme.
"Speak your mind," Kangxi ordered.
"The Ministry of Works manufactures state goods, but the imperial court cannot openly act as common merchants. Currently, officials beg for glass and leave 'gratuity' payments. That is a short-term, informal model. Since you have already granted a permit to Uncle Songgotu, why not expand the system logically?"
Kangxi shook his head. "Absolutely not. The glass production methodology must remain a state secret. Your uncle is an exception because he already knows it."
"I am not suggesting we share the technology," Yinreng clarified swiftly. "I am suggesting we control the distribution. We utilize the Royal Merchants."
Context: Royal Merchants were wealthy, state-sanctioned businessmen who supplied the imperial palace.
"The state produces the glass," Yinreng explained, laying out the economic model. "The Royal Merchants sell it. We mandate a seventy-thirty profit split in favor of the state treasury. If you fear they will falsify their accounting to skim profits, we implement a wholesale model. We set a high, fixed base price. The merchants buy the inventory upfront. How much they markup the final retail price is their problem."
Kangxi stopped walking and stared down at the six-year-old. He remained silent for a long time.
Yinreng rubbed his nose, coughing lightly. "Well... I overheard the Internal Affairs Department discussing how much the Royal Merchants profit off the palace. I simply calculated a method to extract the silver back out of their pockets."
Kangxi let out a long sigh. "Baocheng. You are the Crown Prince. Your vision must encompass the empire. Do not fixate on the petty accounting of merchants."
Internal Monologue: Yinreng was momentarily stunned. 'Petty accounting?'
"However," Kangxi added smoothly, "your economic model is sound. I will have the ministers draft a formal regulatory framework based on your wholesale concept."
Yinreng ground his teeth in silent frustration. Analysis: Because he was a child, Kangxi felt obligated to lecture him on "grand vision," even while actively stealing his brilliant macroeconomic policy! The physical limitations of a six-year-old body were endlessly infuriating.
***
To rest, Kangxi led Yinreng into a premium, two-story restaurant. They secured a private room on the second floor overlooking the central courtyard. Down below, an old man played the 'erhu' while a young girl, perhaps thirteen, sang Southern opera in a soft, melodic dialect.
Yinreng leaned out the window, staring intently at the courtyard.
Internal Monologue: Yinreng was fascinated, but not by the music. In every piece of fiction he had ever read, this exact scenario—a beautiful, fragile girl singing in a restaurant—inevitably triggered a conflict. A wealthy, arrogant thug would attempt to assault her, prompting a heroic martial artist to intervene. Yinreng was simply waiting for the inevitable physical altercation to begin.
He waited. Song after song. The patrons merely ate their food. No thugs appeared. No heroes arrived. Reality was terribly boring.
Suddenly, a large hand clamped onto Yinreng's collar and yanked him back inside. 'Slam!' Kangxi violently shut the window, his face dark with fury.
He turned to his head eunuch, Liang Jiugong. "Give them a silver ingot. Tell them to stop singing and leave the premises immediately!"
Yinreng blinked, completely bewildered.
Kangxi sat down, looking at Yinreng with heavy, grave concern. "Baocheng... you are still too young."
Realization: It took Yinreng three seconds to process the context. Kangxi thought he was staring at the girl out of lust! The Emperor was terrified his heir was developing a premature addiction to women!
Reaction: Absolute, horrifying outrage. He was six! Yet, Yinreng knew he could not furiously defend his innocence; over-explaining would only make him look guiltier. He had to employ tactical stupidity.
Yinreng adopted a perfectly blank, innocent expression. "Imperial Father, I know I am only six. But what does my age have to do with evaluating music? Her voice was acceptable, but her technique was terrible."
Yinreng smiled smugly. "I counted three distinct pitch errors! She has no right to demand tips with such a sloppy performance! Imperial Father, I cannot believe you rewarded her incompetence with a whole silver ingot!"
Kangxi froze. The heavy, parental concern instantly evaporated, replaced by profound embarrassment. He had projected his own adult paranoia onto a child analyzing vocal pitch.
Within Yinreng's mind, the System was appalled.
[Host! You just weaponized second-hand embarrassment against your own father to save yourself!]
"Standard operational procedure," Yinreng mentally retorted. "I am six. It was the most logical defense. A son who doesn't occasionally manipulate his father's expectations is not trying hard enough."
Kangxi cleared his throat, desperately shifting the topic. "Ahem. I never said children cannot listen to music. I simply meant... exactly as you observed, her skills were lacking. Let us eat. Did you not specifically request the roasted chicken from this establishment?"
***
Yinreng happily dug into his meal after the tasters cleared it. Suddenly, a sharp gust of wind blew through a poorly sealed street-side window. Yinreng shivered, pulling his shoulders in.
"See? I told you to dress warmer," Kangxi scolded, immediately stripping off his own heavy cloak and wrapping it securely around the boy. When Yinreng tried to refuse, Kangxi glared. "Wear it. My constitution is vastly superior to yours."
Kangxi looked out the window at the graying sky. "Winter arrives in two days. You previously asked if glass could replace window paper. I ordered the Ministry of Works to test it. It is highly effective—it blocks the wind entirely while maximizing light. I will have the construction office install glass windows throughout your Yuqing Palace."
"No," Yinreng shook his head firmly. "Install them for Imperial Father and Great-Grandmother first. Great-Grandmother is old; the cold is a genuine threat to her."
Kangxi smiled, deeply moved by the boy's filial piety. "Very well. I will order the installations for all of us immediately, before the deep freezes begin."
Yinreng saw his opening. He leaned in closer. "Imperial Father, I actually do not want the windows for my palace right now. Instead, I want you to allocate my share of the glass to build a completely transparent structure in the empty courtyard behind Yuqing Palace."
Kangxi was lost. "A... glass house?"
"When we walked through the market, the merchants complained that fresh green vegetables vanish during winter," Yinreng explained. "The cold kills the crops. But if I build a structure entirely of glass, it will block the freezing wind while trapping the sunlight. It will create a pocket of warmth."
Analysis: Yinreng was proposing a rudimentary greenhouse.
Kangxi sighed, amused but dismissive of the child's agricultural theory. "Merely blocking the wind does not generate enough heat to sustain life, Baocheng."
"I know!" Yinreng countered energetically. "That is why I will summon experts from the Linheng Office to consult on traditional winter heating systems. Between their subterranean flues and my glass walls, I will synthesize a solution. Imperial Father, you promised me one unconditional request! I am using it now. Build me the glass house, and I will grow fresh vegetables for your winter meals!"
Kangxi laughed helplessly. The boy had not even laid a single brick, yet he was already promising a harvest. "The imperial ice cellars are fully stocked with preserved vegetables. You will not go hungry."
"Preserved vegetables are monotonous and lack fresh nutrients," Yinreng insisted. "I want to test my theory. You gave your imperial word!"
Kangxi surrendered. "Fine, fine! I agree. You shall have your windows, and I will build your glass house."
Decision Logic: It was a minor expenditure of raw materials. Kangxi had zero expectation that Yinreng could actually manipulate nature to grow summer crops in the dead of a Beijing winter. But if a glass house kept the hyperactive genius occupied and happy, it was a flawless investment.
Yinreng cheered, throwing his arms around Kangxi. "Imperial Father is the greatest in the world!"
Caught off guard, Kangxi stiffened for a second before relaxing, a genuine, uncontrollable smile spreading across his face as he hugged his son back.