Yuqing Palace rapidly transformed into a bustling construction site. The hammering and sawing of the Imperial Construction Office echoed through the courtyards.
To maintain the illusion of a child's innocent curiosity, Yinreng summoned two master horticulturalists from the Linheng Office—the imperial department responsible for the palace's flora.
Upon questioning them, Yinreng confirmed the limits of the era's agricultural technology. The Linheng Office utilized rudimentary heated rooms (warmed by subterranean flues) to slightly extend the blooming periods of certain flowers. However, forcing summer vegetables to grow in the dead of a freezing winter was entirely beyond their capabilities. Their methods were limited to basic disease prevention and minimal thermal insulation.
This technological bottleneck did not disappoint Yinreng.
Strategic Intent: His goal was never to learn from the Linheng Office. He simply needed a credible, official audience to witness his "accidental" discoveries, thereby masking his modern knowledge.
Yinreng immediately began feeding them the answers disguised as questions.
"Most palaces have heated pavilions using underground flues and hollow thermal walls," Yinreng noted innocently. "If I replace the back wall of my glass house with a thermal brick wall connected to a furnace, wouldn't that maintain the interior temperature?"
He continued before they could answer. "Also, during the summer, I noticed my black robes absorbed far more heat than my white ones. Tutor Verbiest confirmed dark colors trap sunlight. Should we paint the thermal wall solid black?"
"Furthermore," Yinreng pressed on, "I spoke with some low-ranking eunuchs from impoverished villages. They survive winter by stuffing their bedding with dry straw and crop stalks. Since organic matter provides insulation, can we pack the structural gaps of the glass house with straw? We could even dig a perimeter trench outside the glass walls and fill it with decomposing compost and straw to create a secondary thermal barrier against the frozen earth."
The master horticulturalists stared at the six-year-old Crown Prince, utterly dumbfounded.
Reaction: Every single theory the boy proposed was fundamentally logical and grounded in observable physics, yet no one had ever combined them to build an agricultural greenhouse. They were paralyzed, unsure if they should praise his genius or warn him of potential failure.
Yinreng did not wait for their professional consensus. "Excellent! I have decided. We will build it exactly like this!"
The horticulturalists could only bow in silent submission.
Within his mind, the System was frantically processing the data.
[Host! How do you possess advanced knowledge of greenhouse thermodynamics and structural insulation? You have never completed an agricultural tech-tree mission!]
Yinreng rolled his eyes. "Did you forget my profession in my previous life? I was a top-tier actor."
[What does acting have to do with agricultural engineering?] the System countered. [Actors are not required to hold degrees in agronomy!]
"Use your processing power," Yinreng mentally rebuked it. "I starred in a critically acclaimed historical drama about the rural economic reforms. I played a sent-down youth who built an agricultural empire by pioneering greenhouse farming in a barren village. To ensure absolute realism, the production studio hired a team of elite agricultural engineers as set consultants. I spent months shadowing them, memorizing structural blueprints, and learning temperature control mechanics to stay in character. Obviously, I retained the blueprints."
The System fell completely silent, unable to argue with the sheer pragmatism of his past-life dedication.
Since Yinreng's structural requests utilized standard materials—brick, straw, and black paint—the Construction Office executed the orders flawlessly. The project moved forward at breakneck speed, leaving the rest of the imperial harem watching in bewildered envy.
***
In the Eastern Five Palaces, the construction noise was a constant irritant.
First Prince Yinshi slammed his fist onto the table, his face flushed with rage. "We are both his sons! How can Imperial Father be so blatantly biased?!"
His mother, Concubine Hui, sighed heavily. "Do not speak treason. The Emperor cares for you. He checks your academic progress constantly and visits you frequently. He loves you."
"But he loves the Crown Prince more!" Yinshi shouted. "Whatever Yinreng wants, he gets! When he sneaked out of the palace, Imperial Father didn't even punish him! And now, Yinreng openly demands a glass house, and Imperial Father personally escorts him out of the palace to arrange it! Why doesn't Imperial Father take me out?!"
Concubine Hui poked him sharply in the forehead. "Why doesn't he take you? Do you truly not know?"
Yinshi froze.
"When the Crown Prince wants to leave, he opens his mouth and asks," Hui scolded. "When you want to leave, you stand there in silent resentment. Are you mute? If you had approached the Emperor, acted affectionately, and asked to join them, do you think he would have refused you?"
"I... I..." Yinshi bit his lip, his pride warring with reality.
"If you refuse to act like a son, you have no right to complain when another son reaps the rewards," Hui said, rubbing her temples.
Context: Yinshi had been raised outside the Forbidden City to protect him from childhood plagues, only returning at age five. Consequently, he lacked the intimate, organic bond Yinreng had developed by living directly inside the Emperor's personal quarters (Qianqing Palace).
Concubine Hui knew Kangxi felt guilty about sending Yinshi away. If Yinshi simply weaponized that guilt with a little strategic affection, Kangxi would heavily favor him. But Yinshi was too stubbornly proud to play the role of a needy child.
Previously, Hui had accepted this. Her original strategy was to let Yinshi grow up, enter the military, and secure command over the army. Yinreng, restricted by his status as Crown Prince, could never lead troops. Military power would eventually trump civilian favor.
But watching the glass house being built, Hui realized her long-term strategy was fatally flawed.
She looked sharply at her son. "Do you only see the Emperor's bias? Do you not see the political reality? The Crown Prince is two years younger than you, yet he already holds massive political capital. What do you have?"
Yinshi frowned. "You mean the clock and the glass? Teacher Verbiest built the clock, and Songgotu built the glass!"
"But Verbiest built it because Yinreng prompted him! And Yinreng provided the glass formula!" Hui snapped, her voice turning cold. "Even if he is just incredibly lucky, luck is a political weapon. Now, he is funding Physician Liu's smallpox research and building this greenhouse. If either of those succeeds, do you understand how untouchable his reputation will become?"
Yinshi scoffed in disbelief. "Mother, you worry too much. The clock and the glass were blind luck. He can't get lucky forever. Smallpox has killed millions; a doctor won't cure it overnight. And growing summer vegetables in winter? It's the delusion of a spoiled child. The Emperor is just indulging his madness. Because of Yinreng's tantrum, the glass window installations for the rest of the palace have been delayed!"
Hui was equally annoyed about the delayed windows, but she refused to let petty grievances blind her to the macro-political threat.
Analysis: If Yinreng succeeded in agriculture or medicine, his prestige would eclipse the entire imperial court. Even if he failed, his current achievements—the clock and the glass—had already earned him the fanatic loyalty of the Ministry of Works and foreign scholars. Waiting for Yinshi to grow old enough to join the military was too slow. Yinreng was monopolizing the Emperor's favor 'now'.
"Baoqing," Hui said, using Yinshi's childhood name. She pulled him close, her eyes dead serious. "You will be nine years old next year. You are old enough to understand the stakes. I will ask you one question: Are you willing to bow your head, submit to Yinreng, and live the rest of your life as his obedient, subservient vassal?"
Yinshi's body trembled. He stared at his mother, his jaw tight. "Mother. I refuse."
Hui smiled, a sharp, dangerous expression. "Good. Then you will listen to me. First, you will control your temper. Never show resentment in front of the Emperor. Second, you will learn to show weakness. You will speak to him constantly, expressing your admiration and reliance on him."
She gripped his shoulders. "If you do not know how to manipulate the Emperor's affections, look at the Crown Prince. Copy his methods exactly."
Yinshi looked repulsed at the idea of mimicking his hated rival.
"If you cannot do this," Hui warned coldly, "then abandon your ambitions today. Give up the throne, make peace with the Crown Prince, and save us both the trouble of a lost war."
Action/Reaction: The ultimatum struck Yinshi hard. The thought of groveling to Yinreng was infinitely worse than the humiliation of acting like a spoiled child for his father.
He lowered his head, swallowing his pride. "Mother... I understand. I will do it."
Concubine Hui finally exhaled, a satisfied smile touching her lips. The battle for the throne had officially begun.