By June, the summer heat became oppressive. Yinreng sat eating a bowl of shaved ice, his mind preoccupied with historical timelines.
According to historical records, Emperor Kangxi undertook six Southern Tours. The first was supposed to launch this September.
Yinreng wanted to go. In his past life, he was born and raised in Jiangnan. He longed to see the historical iteration of his homeland. However, as June progressed, there was no sign of preparation. An imperial tour required months of logistical planning—route mapping, security protocols, and delegating state affairs. If they were leaving in September, the edicts should have been issued already.
Unable to tolerate the suspense, Yinreng cornered Kangxi in the Imperial Study. "Imperial Father, are we not embarking on the Southern Tour? When do we depart?"
Kangxi looked up from his memorials, exasperated. "What are you planning now?"
"Jiangnan is the economic heart of the empire," Yinreng argued smoothly. "It provides the majority of our tax revenue. With the introduction of hybrid rice, the agricultural boom there must be unprecedented. Do you not wish to inspect it personally?"
Kangxi chuckled. "You just want to play tourist outside the capital."
Yinreng bristled. 'You want to go too! Don't blame this on me!' "Jiangnan's river network is the logistics artery of the Qing Dynasty," Yinreng pressed, pivoting to geopolitical strategy. "All northern grain and southern goods rely on those canals. The waterways require constant oversight and maintenance. An imperial inspection is a strategic necessity."
Kangxi's amusement vanished, replaced by a stern pragmatism. "I agree completely. But it will not happen this year."
Yinreng blinked. "Why?"
"Because you handed me cement and red bricks," Kangxi stated dryly. "Did you think integrating revolutionary construction materials into the imperial infrastructure happens by magic? I have to oversee the entire implementation."
Yinreng deflated, crushed by the realization that his own technological advancements had inadvertently sabotaged his vacation. He turned to leave, but his eye caught the header of an open memorial from the Ministry of Revenue on the Emperor's desk.
He froze.
'Liar.' The cement and brick factories had been operational for months; their production and distribution chains were already autonomous. Kangxi didn't need to stay in the capital to manage them.
The Emperor was canceling the tour because the imperial treasury was broke. And he had used Yinreng's inventions as a convenient excuse to save face.
'Fine. If it's about money, I will solve the money.'
***
The Commercial Solution
Ten days later, Yinreng marched back into the Imperial Study, Eunuch Xiao Zhuzi trailing behind him carrying a large, heavy wooden chest.
"Imperial Father," Yinreng declared, abandoning protocol, "if you are out of money, just say so!"
Kangxi froze, caught off guard.
"The glass trade is stabilizing; the initial profit explosion is over," Yinreng analyzed rapidly. "Meanwhile, state expenditures are skyrocketing. The hybrid rice seeds are distributed for free, entirely subsidized by the throne.
"The cowpox vaccine rollout is draining the treasury. We vaccinated the royal family and officials for free or at cost. Now, we are building medical bureaus nationwide and hiring physicians to vaccinate the civilian population. A plague does not respect class; if the peasants catch smallpox, it will infect the cities and cripple our labor force. Eradication is the only option, but it requires massive capital. We charge the peasants one tael of silver, but that barely covers the vaccine production, the facility, the physician's salary, and the medical aftercare. The state is operating at a loss."
Yinreng paced. "Then there is the cement. You are using it to pave the primary arterial roads in the capital, entirely at the state's expense. Between public health, agricultural subsidies, and infrastructure, the Ministry of Revenue must be bleeding silver."
Kangxi sighed. Being an Emperor was incredibly expensive. He eyed Yinreng. "You have a solution?"
Yinreng tapped the heavy chest. Xiao Zhuzi opened it, revealing neatly packaged goods.
"Imperial Father, this is soap. This is a toothbrush. This is toothpaste. The large bottles are shampoo and body wash."
Yinreng ordered a basin of water brought in. He demonstrated the toothbrush and toothpaste himself, then ordered a young eunuch to roll up his sleeves to demonstrate the soap, shampoo, and body wash.
"Are these not infinitely superior to our current hygiene practices?" Yinreng asked as the fresh, floral scent filled the room. "I have formulated different varieties. Whitening toothpaste, herbal toothpaste. Orchid-scented soap, fruit-scented soap. Anti-hair loss shampoo, repairing shampoo.
"The wives and daughters of the aristocracy control their household budgets and possess massive dowries. They are the ultimate consumer demographic. Once they experience these luxury cosmetics, demand will be limitless."
Kangxi stared at the suds and the scented bottles.
"Do we assign production to the Ministry of Works or the Imperial Household Department?" Yinreng asked.
This was a critical financial distinction. The Ministry of Works fed the national treasury; the Imperial Household Department fed the Emperor's private purse.
Kangxi pondered. "The Ministry of Works is overwhelmed with the cement and brick factories. The Imperial Household Department is not structured for mass commercial manufacturing. I will establish a new, independent bureau strictly for managing your technological commercializations."
"We can call it the Ministry of Commerce!" Yinreng cheered.
Kangxi nodded slowly. "Acceptable."
"However," Yinreng added quickly, linking his arm through Kangxi's, "I am keeping a percentage of the market. I will open my own private shop outside the palace to sell these goods. I will restrict my inventory so I don't compete with the state monopoly, but I need my own revenue stream."
Kangxi frowned. "Do your current luxury shops not generate enough?"
"If I were a normal prince, yes," Yinreng argued. "But I fund the initial research and development for every technology we produce—hybrid rice, cowpox, cement, silage. R&D requires immense capital. If I don't generate my own liquid assets, I have to beg the Ministry of Revenue for funding every time I want to invent something. They complain constantly. If I use the Imperial Household Department, the palace consorts and eunuchs gossip about my spending. I need independent financial autonomy."
Kangxi considered the logic. Yinreng's private R&D funding had indeed saved the state millions in early-stage failures. "Fine. What will you call your shop?"
"Huaxin Daily Necessities!" Yinreng declared proudly.
"Do you truly believe luxury soap will balance the national deficit?" Kangxi asked skeptically.
"No," Yinreng admitted. "But infrastructure will. Imperial Father, you recently toured the new cement roads outside the capital, did you not?"
Kangxi nodded.
"Have you noticed the massive increase in commercial traffic?" Yinreng asked. "To get rich, you must first build roads. Efficient logistics accelerate trade, and trade generates wealth. Do you wish to pave the entire national highway system with cement?"
"I do," Kangxi said. "But the cost is astronomical. We cannot afford it."
"Then we make the people pay for it," Yinreng smiled.
"The peasants?" Kangxi scoffed. "They praise the roads, but if we tax them for it, they will riot. They would rather walk in mud than part with their copper."
"Not the peasants," Yinreng corrected. "The merchants and the regional aristocracy. We do not tax them; we exploit their vanity."
Kangxi raised an eyebrow. "Explain."
"We offer them a legacy. For every few miles of road built, we erect a stone monument. On the front, it lists the geographic location. On the back, it permanently carves the names of the local merchants and gentry who funded that specific section of the road. We have the local magistrates bestow them with the honorary title of 'Philanthropist.' The merchant class is wealthy but occupies the lowest social tier. They will empty their vaults to buy historical prestige and imperial favor."
Kangxi's eyes lit up. It was a brilliant psychological manipulation of the rigid social hierarchy.
"Furthermore," Yinreng continued, his smile turning predatory, "for the critical arterial highways that the State 'does' fully fund, we change the economic model. Once the road is finished, we construct military checkpoints at key intersections."
Kangxi listened intently.
"Pedestrians and light travelers pass for free," Yinreng outlined. "But commercial caravans, heavily loaded wagons, and massive merchant convoys? We charge them a calculated toll based on the weight of their cargo and the number of vehicles. They pay for the privilege of using the Emperor's efficient, safe roads."
Kangxi stared at his ten-year-old son, utterly stunned by the concept of highway toll booths.