Yinti took a deep breath, his expression grim as he uttered, "Mother."
Did he want his consort to bear the Emperor's first grandson?
Yes, he did.
Having suffered enough as the eldest son, forced to watch as the Emperor showered all his affection—even to the point of doting—on Yinreng, Yinti longed to have a legitimate heir with his consort. He dreamed of cherishing, protecting, and nurturing the child to greatness.
And if it were the Emperor’s first grandson? Even better. Winning the Emperor’s favor, diverting some of the love lavished on Yinreng, and gaining an advantage over him—it would be a triple victory.
Yinti had never accepted the Crown Prince’s status. Why should Yinreng have it all?
Simply because he was born from Empress Hesheri’s womb?
A clueless infant, named heir while still in swaddling clothes—what a farce.
Even now, Yinti remembered the pain of separation in his childhood.
In the early years of the Kangxi reign, after a series of imperial princes had died young, the young Emperor, heartbroken, entrusted his newborn son to the care of a minister’s household. It wasn’t until he was five or six that Baoqing—not yet renamed Yinti—returned to the palace. He had asked his wet nurse repeatedly, "Why doesn’t Mother visit me? Why hasn’t Father brought me home?"
The wet nurse had forced a smile. "Your Highness, the Crown Prince—your second brother—has smallpox. His Majesty hasn’t slept in days, tending to him. He hasn’t had time for you. As for Concubine Hui, she cannot leave the palace, but she longs for your return."
That was the first time Yinti heard of the Crown Prince.
His second brother had smallpox, and the Emperor had suspended court for three days and nights to care for him. The young Yinti felt both envy and longing. But upon returning to the palace, witnessing the extent of Yinreng’s favor, that envy slowly soured into resentment and jealousy.
At first, Yinti couldn’t understand—why should he, the elder brother, bow to his younger sibling?
Later, as he began his studies, his tutors explained the distinction between ruler and subject, elder and younger. Only then did he grasp the chasm between the Crown Prince and ordinary princes.
Even as the eldest son, second only to the Crown Prince in the Emperor’s favor, he was still a subject who must bow to his sovereign.
As he grew older, Yinti’s bitterness only deepened.
With Mingzhu supporting him in court and Consort Hui in the rear palace, he held what seemed like a winning hand—one that could challenge, even surpass, the Crown Prince’s position.
The late Empress had left no strong faction behind, and Yinreng had only Suo Etu to rely on.
With this in mind, Yinti’s ambition, once a mere spark, blazed into an inferno.
Had his maternal family been weak or his mother low-ranking, he might never have dared to contend for the throne. But the times demanded a hero, and just as Yinti resolved to fight for succession, circumstances shifted abruptly.
The Crown Prince distanced himself from Suo Etu and suddenly grew close to Consort Yi. Where once Yinreng would have lashed out at Yinti’s provocations, now he remained unshaken, as if striking cotton.
That infuriating smile of his only made Yinti grind his teeth.
The smooth path he’d walked was gone. Consort Hui had fallen from grace, and with the Eighth Prince’s relocation, her influence as the foremost of the Four Consorts waned, leaving Yinti uneasy.
At least he still had his uncle’s backing in court.
Good news came in waves—Suo Etu was stripped of his position, leaving the Crown Prince without external support. But Yinti’s joy was short-lived. Soon after, the Empress Dowager instructed the newly promoted Noble Consort Guoluoluo to watch over Yinreng.
It felt like a hole had been punched through his heart, letting in a cold draft. For once, Yinti felt lost.
The Empress Dowager favored Yinreng. The Emperor favored Yinreng. Now, they had given him such a powerful ally. Could he still succeed?
Yet, unwilling to surrender, Yinti decided to wait. Wait until Yinreng grew older, until he made a mistake—then seize the perfect moment to strike. He couldn’t waste his uncle’s carefully laid networks in the capital and Jiangnan.
But before that opportunity came, Nala Mingzhu, the pillar of the Nara clan, fell.
He followed Suo Etu’s path, though whether he’d share the latter’s luck and return to power remained uncertain. Consort Hui grew frantic, and Yinti, sensing her distress, sighed and reassured her, "Mother, don’t worry. Though Uncle is idle now, the influence he built over the years remains."
Yinti was no longer a child. His scattered faction now had a leader, and under Mingzhu’s guidance, they didn’t retreat—instead, they rallied in secret, fueling Yinti’s bid for the throne. They pinned their hopes on the birth of the Emperor’s first grandson, betting on a brighter future.
Yet Yinti sensed impending disaster.
With Noble Consort Yi whispering in the Emperor’s ear, his father had grown noticeably colder toward him. Compared to the still-favored Crown Prince, the odds seemed hopeless.
The Emperor’s wrath could topple nations. No matter how mighty his uncle was, if the Emperor demanded his power, he would yield it. If the Emperor demanded his life, could he refuse?
The Emperor had turned ruthless, showing no regard for past merits.
If Noble Consort Yi kept poisoning the Emperor’s mind, how long would his patience last for a son he despised?
In short, Yinti was terrified.
But he couldn’t back out.
The weight of expectations—his mother’s obsession, his faction’s hopes—pressed down on him.
She had raised him. How could he bear to disappoint her?
They all said that if his consort bore the Emperor’s first grandson, it would be the ultimate bargaining chip. His mother insisted he mustn’t let the Crown Prince seize the advantage.
Yinti considered this and agreed.
Life was about pride. He had competed with Yinreng for so long it had become habit. Having married first, the first grandson must come from his consort’s womb.
When he learned the Crown Prince was soon to wed, panic gripped him. But his mother’s tone left him uneasy.
"Mother, my consort is virtuous and manages the household well. How can you speak of her so harshly?" He stifled the urge to argue, speaking gently instead. "Only my legitimate heir is worthy. If some lesser woman bore the first grandson, do you think the Emperor would even glance at the child? What use would it be? I want only my consort’s children."
Consort Hui had never expected such a reply.
She nearly fainted from rage. Had Lady Irgen Gioro bewitched him?
Refusing to admit her son had a point, she trembled, pointing at him. "Setting aside concubines for now—what if Lady Irgen Gioro bears a daughter?"
"Just yesterday, you told me this child would surely be a son." Yinti frowned, as if the possibility had never crossed his mind. After a pause, he said solemnly, "If it comes to that, then fate has not yet smiled upon us. I will keep trying. One day, you will hold your grandson."
Though Consort Hui was certain her daughter-in-law carried the first grandson, her earlier words had been spoken in anger. Now, hearing this, a terrible premonition seized her. "You—!" she stammered, swaying on her feet.
"A wife steals a son’s heart, a wife steals a son’s heart!"
Defending Lady Irgen Gioro was one thing, but to curse himself like this?
"Fate has not yet smiled"?
"Keep trying"?
Her ears rang, her chest ached, and at last, tears spilled over. "Yinti, you wretched boy! Do you mean to kill me?"
Yinti was stunned. He had only spoken the truth.
Moved by filial piety, his shock was overshadowed by self-reproach. He swiftly knelt down and said anxiously, "This is all your son’s fault. Please, Mother, do not let anger harm your health."
Consort Hui slumped onto the couch, struggling to catch her breath. After closing her eyes for a moment, she calmly ordered him to rise. "Get up."
The son she had borne was utterly devoted to Lady Irgen Gioro. Given this, she couldn’t oppose him directly.
She had wanted to assign him a secondary consort to strengthen his position, but he refused. Fine. If he wouldn’t agree, so be it—at least he hadn’t stormed into the Qianqing Palace to defy an imperial decree.
Consort Hui didn’t want to admit it, but she had no choice: Yinti was exceptional in martial arts, personally trained by Mingzhu, and possessed remarkable insight into court affairs. Yet he lacked cunning, being too rigid and unyielding once his mind was set.
Whose stubborn temperament had he inherited?
Suppressing her frustration, she changed the subject. "Do you know who the Crown Princess candidate is?"
"Your son does not," Yinti replied, relieved. "Has Mother heard anything?"
"It will undoubtedly be chosen from the Upper Three Banners, among the great Manchu clans," Consort Hui said, rubbing her temples. "Her lineage will be far more illustrious than others’."
At this, she couldn’t help but think of Yinti’s primary consort.
Her daughter-in-law hailed from one of the Eight Great Clans, her father being the Minister of Revenue. In the past, Mingzhu had praised Kerkun highly, and she, too, had been satisfied.
But now things were different. Kerkun had fallen, and the maternal clan could offer Yinti no support. Meanwhile, the future Crown Princess’s family would surely wield influence—how could she not worry?
Her resentment toward her daughter-in-law deepened.
Yinti interjected, "The Grand Empress Dowager has caught a chill, and His Majesty has canceled this summer’s selection. However, the list of eligible candidates from the Upper Three Banners has already been submitted to the Imperial Household Department. The noble maidens close in age to Yinreng are few enough to count. Mother might exert some effort to investigate the roster."
Consort Hui was momentarily stunned, then fell into thought. This wasn’t a bad idea.
If the selection wasn’t yet finalized, even daughters from prestigious but politically weaker families might have a chance to compete.
A shrewd glint flashed in Consort Hui’s eyes. She would need to carefully strategize how to maneuver this.
Her anger subsided slightly, and she smiled. "In your opinion, how might we delay the Crown Prince’s marriage?"
At present, the Crown Prince only attended court deliberations. After his wedding, he would rightfully begin participating in governance. By then, he could assemble his own faction, and supporters would flock to him like fish to a river—far surpassing her Yinti.
How could she not be anxious?
Yinti pondered, then grinned. "Let’s hope His Majesty selects an unattractive candidate, one that repels Yinreng at first sight."
That way, Yinreng wouldn’t want to marry.
"..." Consort Hui choked back another surge of irritation.
She waved him off wearily. "I am tired. You may leave."
As Yinti departed, Consort Hui took a deep breath, forcing herself to set aside thoughts of Lady Irgen Gioro and the matter of the imperial grandson. Calming herself, she murmured, "The selection roster... the Imperial Household Department..."
The Grand Empress Dowager’s illness had naturally delayed the selection this year.
At this realization, she paused, concealing the storm of thoughts in her heart.
What if the Grand Empress Dowager’s condition took a turn for the worse?
If national mourning were declared, the Crown Prince would be obliged to observe three years of filial piety.
Meanwhile, in the Imperial Study.
"Fourth Brother! Fourth Brother, you mustn’t!" cried the Rongjun Prince in alarm.
"Fourth Brother, Ninth Brother didn’t mean it!" The Seventh Prince clung desperately to the Fourth Prince’s leg.
"Fourth Brother, Ninth Brother is still young—have mercy!" The Eighth Prince refused to let go of the Fourth Prince’s arm.
"Fourth Brother is committing murder!" The Tenth Prince darted away like a rabbit.
"Fourth Brother..." The Fifth Prince reached out hesitantly, at a loss for words.
Yinzhen’s face was as dark as thunder.
Trembling with rage, he glared at the Ninth Prince in the distance and ground out through clenched teeth, "If you have the nerve, don’t hide behind Fulu."
Sneaking into his courtyard, pouring ink all over Baixue, and coating her evenly—how amusing.
"Fourth Brother, the idea of decorating your Pekingese was Tenth Brother’s. It has nothing to do with me," Yintang declared from behind his highly skilled cousin, feeling perfectly safe. He even had the audacity to justify himself with a straight face.
At this, the Fourth Prince’s gaze sharpened like a blade, piercing straight toward Yin'e, who shrank into the corner.
