Chapter 1 Falling Horse

In the third month of the thirty-seventh year of Kangxi’s reign, early spring carried a slight chill. The court assembly had just concluded, and ministers trickled out in small groups.  

The atmosphere outside the Qianqing Gate was fervent, the cool breeze unable to disperse the excitement in their hearts—  

The Emperor had just issued an imperial decree, formally enfeoffing the imperial princes. From the Eldest Prince to the Eighth Prince, each had been granted a noble title. Most astonishing of all, the seventeen-year-old Eighth Prince, favored by the Emperor, had been named a Prince of the First Rank alongside his elder brothers, becoming the youngest Lord Prince in the dynasty!  

Subtle glances darted toward the Eighth Prince, who stood tall with a warm smile. Truly remarkable.  

Yet after the initial fervor came an undercurrent of awkwardness.  

Officials close to the Eldest Prince, Yin Zhi, wished they could shrink into themselves. Yin Zhi’s face was dark as a loach, his displeasure visible from miles away, with no trace of joy over his enfeoffment.  

As the Emperor’s eldest son, he had only been granted an ordinary princely title, without even an honorary designation.  

This rank—not only did it fail to rival the Crown Prince’s standing, but being on par with his seventeen-year-old, unmarried younger brother was downright humiliating.  

The Third Prince, Yin Zhi, who considered himself senior in age, trailed behind, his expression equally joyless. But after glancing left and right, particularly at his eldest brother’s livid face, he wisely kept silent.  

Well, they were all Princes of the First Rank now—no point in complaining.  

The Fifth and Seventh Princes, though delighted, dared not show it. Among them, only the Fourth Prince, Yinzhen, remained composed, quietly discussing something with the Crown Prince.  

Nodding after their exchange, he sighed inwardly, his phoenix eyes tinged with worry.  

In the thirty-seventh year of Kangxi’s reign, Yinzhen was twenty-one, still somewhat youthful and impulsive.  

Freshly enfeoffed, he harbored a deeply buried concern.  

Clenching his fist lightly to clear his thoughts, Yinzhen leaned in and asked the Crown Prince quietly, “Nephew Hong Yan… is he already awake at this hour? Still studying?”  

The Crown Prince nodded.  

His tone held pride, delight, and a touch of helplessness. “You know how Hong Yan is, Fourth Brother. He’s stubborn—I can’t persuade him.”  

Yinzhen sighed in admiration.  

Hong Yan had been raised under the Emperor’s personal care, and Yinzhen knew all too well the rigor of his early education. Yet even during his rare five-day break, his nephew showed no intention of relaxing…  

As the Emperor’s eldest grandson and the Crown Prince’s firstborn, Hong Yan was doted upon beyond measure. If he so much as sneezed, the Emperor would punish the palace servants. What couldn’t he have? The more Yinzhen pondered, the more he marveled—there was a reason his nephew outshone all his uncles in the Emperor’s favor.  

At just five years old, his diligence surpassed even the Crown Prince’s childhood efforts.  

Soon, Yinzhen recalled something. Earlier that year, rumors had spread—no one knew from where—praising the eldest imperial grandson as studious, brilliant, and sagacious. Brilliant, yes, but how could the title of “sagacious” be placed on a five-year-old? It was practically setting him up for disaster.  

Yinzhen broke into a cold sweat, but the schemer had miscalculated. Far from anger, the Emperor had embraced the description.  

“The Emperor laughed and said, ‘My precious grandson is naturally sagacious.'”  

Yinzhen immediately relaxed.  

To speak treasonously—after the Emperor’s passing, the Crown Prince would inherit the throne. And after the Crown Prince’s time, the throne would naturally pass to Hong Yan. Seen this way, wasn’t Hong Yan’s diligence from childhood a good thing? The very image of a wise ruler.  

That was true enough—but still, he was far too diligent.

Hong Yan was quite different from children his age—his maturity was almost heartbreaking. After reminiscing, the Fourth Prince wore an expression identical to the Crown Prince’s, even feeling the urge to advise his nephew to go out and play.  

The Crown Prince understood his brother’s thoughts and sighed as they walked. “Without His Majesty or me around, that boy is the best at feigning obedience while doing the opposite.”  

With that, he turned to his personal eunuch, He Zhuer, and ordered, “Send someone outside the palace to buy some snacks the young lord likes. Be quick—don’t let Hong Yan exhaust himself.” Then, with a hint of frustration, he added, “After another hour of reading, he must rest. Go and keep an eye on him, or I’ll personally reprimand him.”  

He Zhuer hurriedly assented and scurried off in quick strides.  

The words drifted like a faint thread into the Eldest Prince’s ears, freezing him for a moment and slowing his steps. He thought of his own eldest son, Hong Yu, who, even at two years old, still clung to his wet nurse’s arms. A surge of blazing fury rose in his chest.  

Listen to that—was this even human speech?  

Was his son so special just because he was the Emperor’s eldest grandson? So impressive just because he could read well??  

The multiple blows nearly made the Eldest Prince lose his composure. His face turned from green to purple, teetering on the edge of an outburst. Standing to his right, Mingzhu’s expression sharpened, and he lowered his voice to call out, “Lord Prince…” They were still outside the Qianqing Gate!  

It was both a reminder and a warning.  

The title “Lord Prince” struck like a dagger to the heart, deflating the Eldest Prince like a punctured balloon.  

His lips trembled, and his attendants shivered along with him, terrified their master might faint from rage and be dragged into the Qianqing Palace by the Emperor—that would truly be the end of him, like a doomed turtle hatchling.  

Unaware that his father’s heartfelt words had inflicted a level-ten Versailles-level injury on his uncle, Hong Yan was diligently immersed in his studies.  

As the East Palace of Crown Prince Yinreng, the Yongqing Palace was neither particularly spacious nor cramped. Due to its layout, it felt slightly confined, but every detail was meticulously arranged. A single gate separated the front courtyard from the rear, creating two entirely different atmospheres.  

The study, a place of importance, was located in the southwest corner of the Yongqing Palace. With its bright windows and clean, simple furnishings, it exuded an air of classical elegance.  

The front courtyard’s chief steward, Wang Huai, quietly pushed the door open, with He Zhuer following behind. The study was silent except for the soft rustling of turning pages.  

Hong Yan looked up as He Zhuer cheerfully announced, “His Highness the Crown Prince has ordered that the young lord must take a break. Xiao Linzi has gone to buy snacks for you—from that Square Garden House…”  

As he relayed the message, He Zhuer couldn’t help but think, *Ah, our young lord is truly handsome.*  

The tall wooden chair was too high for his feet to reach the ground, so a comfortable cushion had been placed beneath him. Sitting there, Hong Yan swung his little legs upon hearing this.  

At five years old, the Emperor’s eldest grandson was tender and fair, his face round yet bearing traces of sharp, striking handsomeness.  

Hong Yan’s features were clear and distinct, his phoenix-like eyes so similar to the Crown Prince’s that He Zhuer often felt as though he were speaking to a miniature version of His Highness—even with a faint resemblance to the Emperor himself.  

And indeed, this was the case. Among those serving in the Qianqing Palace and Yongqing Palace, no one dared treat Hong Yan as just a child—except for his elders.  

He Zhuer mused to himself, *Our young master is prodigiously talented, wise beyond his years—destined to inherit the ancestral legacy. What if he ruins his health from overwork?* Filled with such thoughts, even his daily admonitions brimmed with fervor. In the study, he gazed at Hong Yan with earnest devotion, his eyes even growing slightly moist.  

Hong Yan: “…”  

Here we go again.

The relentless urging to rest came as usual, with countless reasons that were all variations of the same theme. Under He Zhuer’s pleading gaze, Hong Yan unconsciously pursed his lips, forming a small dimple. His eyes lingered on the “Book of Rites” with reluctant longing, watery and pitiful, like a pair of lovers forced to part.

What was wrong with studying? He was only thinking of the family’s well-being.

Seeing the young master unwilling, Wang Huai conceded defeat, and He Zhuer followed suit. A thousand words of persuasion stuck in their throats, leaving them on the verge of compromise.

The atmosphere in the study grew heavy until a slightly aged woman’s voice drifted in leisurely: “Young Master, the Crown Princess sent this old servant to check—have you not rested yet?”

Hong Yan snapped the book shut and swiftly climbed down from the wooden chair, declaring solemnly, “I’ve troubled Mother unnecessarily. Momo, I was waiting for the pastries from Square Garden House.”

Quan Momo, who had pushed the door open, smiled and said, “That’s good then.” As she crossed paths with Wang Huai and He Zhuer, she took in their helpless expressions and inwardly understood the situation. Her smile shifted subtly, carrying a hint of triumphant pride.

Wang Huai and He Zhuer: “…”

Quan Momo had raised the Crown Princess and cared for the young master as he grew up—how could they dare oppose her? Every time they tried to persuade the young master in the study, they never once prevailed.

Quan Momo paid no mind to their thoughts—mere defeated opponents. Seeing that Hong Yan had indeed stopped reading, she cheerfully greeted him, inquired about his well-being, and then said, “Young Master must not overexert yourself. This old servant will return to report now.”

Hong Yan acknowledged with a nod.

Everyone in the East Palace knew the young master was somewhat obsessive about studying, but once he set his books aside, his credibility was impeccable. Quan Momo left briskly, then paused to pull aside Sanxi outside and instructed, “The weather in March is still chilly. When the young master immerses himself in reading, you must attend carefully if he grows hungry or thirsty…”

Sanxi had been personally selected by the Crown Prince—a diligent young servant assigned to his son. The other attendant, Linmen, was a palace servant bestowed by the Emperor, tasked with managing Hong Yan’s daily needs. Rumors said he had connections with the Chief Eunuch of the Qianqing Palace, though whether true or not, the East Palace staff treated him with extra courtesy.

Sanxi, with his cheerful face, swiftly bowed: “Sanxi has remembered.”

How Quan Momo reported back to the Crown Princess was another matter. Meanwhile, Xiao Linzi returned with the purchased pastries. Wang Huai withdrew, leaving only He Zhuer in the study. After washing his hands, Hong Yan casually asked, “Was there any major news at court this morning?”

The childish voice discussing court affairs seemed incongruous, but He Zhuer acted as though it were perfectly normal, eagerly arranging the food box and briefly mentioning the matter of titles.

Hong Yan took an interest in court affairs but never voiced opinions. The Crown Prince, assuming his son was precociously concerned with governance, took pride and never restrained him. As the Crown Prince’s most trusted aide, He Zhuer observed keenly and recalled details flawlessly—like now, when he vividly recounted the imperial princes’ reactions, bringing them to life.

At the mention of the Eldest Prince—no, the Eldest Beile—Hong Yan inexplicably pictured a pitch-black loach and nearly laughed aloud.

Wait.

Hong Yan straightened. The 37th year of Kangxi’s reign—if he remembered correctly, wasn’t his uncle supposed to be enfeoffed as Prince Zhi?

In his previous life, Zhou Yan was a top researcher in electronic chips, employed by a major internet company. Although his field was far removed from literature and history, he had a keen interest in collecting ancient books and knew a thing or two about Qing Dynasty history.  

The prosperous reigns of Kangxi, Yongzheng, and Qianlong were so well-known that even girls who watched too many time-travel dramas had heard of them. In his spare time, Zhou Yan skimmed through historical records and developed an unusual fascination with the succession struggles during Kangxi’s later years. After briefly reviewing the timeline and key events, he deeply remembered the name of one unlucky soul—Yinreng.  

After a sigh of pity, he quickly moved on. Soon, his chip research hit a bottleneck. Leading his team through sleepless nights to overcome it, he dozed off briefly when exhaustion overwhelmed him—only to wake up in a new identity, reborn in the womb of the current Crown Princess.  

Fortunately, he could now strut around the Forbidden City as he pleased. Unfortunately, the unlucky soul had become his father.  

Zhou Yan had no parents or attachments, earning him the reputation of a workaholic—though it was merely due to high salaries and unavoidable responsibilities.  

Now reborn as Hong Yan in the Kangxi era, he felt no melancholy. However, his new identity was a dead end from the start.  

Being the imperial grandson came with luxuries—fine clothes, treasures, and delicacies—but it also meant having a father with countless enemies and a grandfather prone to capriciousness in his old age. Being the Crown Prince was a high-risk profession, and the imperial grandson was no exception. Merely surviving wasn’t enough; he refused to be imprisoned in Zhengjiazhuang or rebel against Qianlong as a traitor.  

Only if his father became emperor could he live a stable life.  

With this sense of crisis ever-present, Hong Yan began scheming from birth—  

Just look at this family—tragic.  

His father was deposed twice, his mother remained childless her entire life, and their only cherished daughter was married off to Mongolia, dying young.  

Since he had become a figure absent from history, history could no longer constrain him. Having clawed his way up to an executive position in his past life, Hong Yan feared no hardship and would employ any means to achieve his goals. Compared to his childhood of hunger and deprivation, this life was like living in a honey jar, teaching him the meaning of familial love. What was a little extra effort?  

Still swaddled in his cradle, Hong Yan blew a bubble. Fine, I’m just destined to toil.  

By age three, Hong Yan could wield a brush. With a flick of his small hand, he drafted a five-word motto for conduct:  

Smile demurely in public, be polite in private.  

Compete for imperial favor outside, study diligently indoors.  

In short—secure favor for his father!  

Over two years, Hong Yan diligently implemented this motto. Court events aligned with history, and minor deviations remained within calculations. As for results? Perfect so far—exceeding expectations in securing favor.  

But now, something unexpected had happened.  

Historically, the eldest prince was granted the title of Prince Zhi not just for being the firstborn but also for his military achievements against Galdan. Additionally, the Emperor might have intended to temper the Crown Prince. Yet now, he was only granted the rank of Beile—equal to the eighth prince—which carried a hint of humiliation.  

Had his uncle offended Hanmafa? Where was the variable in this equation?  

Hong Yan’s expression turned solemn, his chewing of snacks halting intermittently. Instinct told him something was amiss.

If we’re talking about the biggest anomalies, there are two things. First, historically the Crown Prince married at twenty, but in this lifetime, his father married at eighteen and had him by twenty. Second, the imperial eldest grandson Hongxi has disappeared. For now, the East Palace only has him as the sole prince, along with two half-sisters from the side courtyard—one born to the Li Jia Princess and the other to a concubine.

He Zhuer had never seen the young master with such an expression before. He held his breath nervously and asked cautiously, “Young Master, is the pastry not to your liking?”

“No,” Hong Yan snapped out of his thoughts, setting the pastry aside. Lost in contemplation, he said, “Let’s go to the Hall of Heavenly Purity.”

Main Courtyard, East Palace.  

Hong Yan had barely stepped out when he remembered to send someone to inform the Crown Princess. She chuckled lightly, “This child Yuanbao, always in such a hurry. What could be so urgent that he must disturb his Hanmafa?”  

Her tone carried a hint of playful reproach.  

Quan Momo chimed in, “The young master has always had his own ideas. Are you worried the Emperor might scold him? If you ask me, anything is better than studying.”  

“That’s true,” the Crown Princess replied with a gentle smile, taking a sip of hot tea. Her elegant, round face radiated a soft glow. She set the teacup down and rested her right hand lightly on her abdomen, speaking warmly, “It’s cold outside. Let the First and Second Princesses rest—no need for them to come and pay respects today.”  

“Your Highness is most considerate. The princesses will surely be grateful,” the senior palace maid Fuling said with a curtsy before stepping out to relay the message.  

The Emperor was reviewing memorials in the imperial study.  

Upon Hong Yan’s arrival, attendants from the Hall of Heavenly Purity hurried out to greet him. Just as they were about to announce his presence, Hong Yan shook his head and raised a finger to his lips. Understanding immediately, they retreated to either side without a word.  

Leaving Sanxi and Linmen outside, Hong Yan tiptoed in quietly.  

Just as he was about to lift the curtain, he faintly overheard the Emperor asking Chief Eunuch Li Dequan, “Does Yin Zhi resent it?”  

Hong Yan froze mid-step, holding his breath.  

Earlier, the Emperor had dismissed all attendants, leaving only Li Dequan in the study. “A father tempering his son…” Li Dequan answered with extreme caution, “…the Eldest Beile naturally understands Your Majesty’s intentions. How could he resent it?”  

Silence lingered for a long moment.  

“He ought to be tempered. The title of Commandery Prince—unacceptable! And the Crown Prince too. To avoid…” Suddenly, the Emperor snorted, pausing before continuing, “…to avoid having to move him to the estate, lest Hesheli comes looking for me again.”  

The unfinished words hung in the air. Li Dequan, grinding ink, broke into a cold sweat.  

Move to the estate? What did the Emperor mean by that?  

Wasn’t the Crown Prince living safely in the palace?  

Hong Yan’s eyes widened slowly as his suspicions took shape.  

Some thoughts were too terrifying to dwell on. Li Dequan’s hands trembled slightly. The Emperor set down his brush and cast him a cool glance. Suddenly, a faint rustling came from beyond the curtain.  

The study was deathly silent—so quiet one could hear a pin drop.  

The Emperor’s sharp, hawk-like eyes narrowed as he barked, “Who’s there?!”  

Author’s Note:  

Semi-alternate universe; don’t scrutinize historical accuracy. A lighthearted, adorable story.  

[Important] If there’s any confusion about the system early on, please keep reading!!!