Yinreng mentally commanded the System to store his newly drawn blueprint.
He could have simply accepted the System's readymade reward, saving himself an hour of tedious reverse-engineering. Instead, he chose the difficult path for two calculated reasons.
First, caution. In his past life, he had read countless stories of "Systems" that enslaved their hosts. By dismantling the clock himself, Yinreng discovered a glaring omission in the System's initial offer. The blueprint was useless without clear glass for the clock face. The System had deliberately hidden this prerequisite, planning to use the missing glass to force Yinreng into a chain of endless tasks. He needed to establish boundaries and prove he would not be easily manipulated.
Second, independence. If he relied entirely on the System's rewards, he would become a puppet. He had to retain his own ability to solve problems.
Seeing Yinreng staring at the shattered glass of the clock face, the System perked up, abandoning its existential crisis.
[Little Crown Prince! A blueprint is not enough. You need glass! The Qing Dynasty produces glass, but the primitive quenching technology leaves iron and manganese impurities, making it colored and clouded. True, transparent glass requires advanced potassium-calcium or lead-barium formulas. I can give you the perfect formula! Just memorize the Analects of Confucius!]
Yinreng crossed his arms. "You lied by omission. You said the blueprint was all I needed to make the clock. You never mentioned glass."
The System stammered. [Um... well...]
"I don't need the glass," Yinreng stated flatly, calling its bluff. "The clock functions perfectly without a cover. I will just mount it high on a wall where no one can touch it and sell it at a twenty percent discount."
[Wait! Do not be hasty!] The System panicked. It needed Yinreng to complete tasks to fulfill its own programming. [Glass can be used for mirrors, greenhouses, and windows! It is highly profitable! If you do not want to memorize the Analects, we can compromise. Just complete ten low-difficulty mathematics exam papers and score at least sixty percent!]
"Deal. Give them to me."
Relieved but suspicious of his quick agreement, the System generated the exams. It had categorized them as "low-difficulty" to trick Yinreng into accepting the task, intending to force him to use its paid tutorials when he failed. In the 17th century, a six-year-old would have no concept of modern equations.
Thirty minutes later, Yinreng handed back ten completed papers. Every single answer was perfectly correct. Elementary school math was an insult to his modern education.
The System fell into stunned silence. When a host completed a task independently, the System received only the baseline minimum of upgrade points. It had expected to farm massive points by teaching him. Instead, Yinreng had effortlessly bypassed its trap.
Accepting the glass formula, Yinreng went to bed highly satisfied. The brief exchange confirmed his most crucial theory: the System could scan his physical body and access his past memories, but it could not read his active thoughts or current consciousness. If it could, it would have known he possessed a modern adult's mind. He was safe to plot in silence.
***
The next morning, Yinreng awoke to a quiet palace. Aunt Lan had not returned. Several other minor servants had also vanished overnight. Yinreng said nothing; the Emperor was purging the palace of spies.
After breakfast, Head Eunuch Liang Jiugong arrived with a new maid. She was a plain-looking woman in her thirties named Xueqing. Yinreng recognized her—she was from the Emperor's private tea room, a position requiring absolute loyalty to Kangxi.
"Your Highness," Liang Jiugong said smoothly. "Aunt Lan's family came to seek her. His Majesty, remembering her years of service, graciously allowed her to retire and reunite with them. Xueqing will serve you from now on."
"That is wonderful news. Thank you," Yinreng replied, accepting the political lie flawlessly. Liang Jiugong observed the boy's calm demeanor for a moment before bowing and taking his leave.
At noon, Kangxi arrived to share the midday meal. He tested the waters. "Baocheng, do you wish to see Aunt Lan one last time?"
"No, Imperial Father. Aunt Lan is not a good person." Yinreng set down his chopsticks. He detailed his logical deduction from the previous day—how Aunt Lan had deliberately stalled in the garden to ensure he heard the treacherous rumors, intending to manipulate his jealousy.
Kangxi froze, then burst into a hearty, relieved laugh, pulling Yinreng into his arms. "My Baocheng is truly brilliant!"
"Of course! I am Imperial Father's son. Imperial Father is wise and mighty, so I must be too," Yinreng replied, seamlessly weaving flattery into his logic. "Even if I guessed wrong, I know one fact: Imperial Father would never harm me. If you decided she had to go, then she deserved it."
Kangxi's heart melted completely. The boy's absolute, unwavering trust was the greatest comfort a paranoid emperor could ask for.
"Listen to me, Baocheng," Kangxi said, his voice unusually gentle. "These rumors are the vicious schemes of wicked people. You did not curse your mother. She loved you dearly. And you did not curse your Sixth Brother. He is already recovering today. Do not ever speak of 'clashing fates' again."
Hearing the raw emotion in Kangxi's voice, Yinreng's eyes filled with genuine tears. He hugged his father tightly. The love Kangxi held for him right now was undeniably real. The history books recorded a tragic end between them, but history was merely a path walked by men. He was no longer the original Yinreng. He would carve a new path.
"I understand, Imperial Father. I will not believe them, and neither should you."
The heavy atmosphere cleared. Kangxi shifted the topic to practical matters. "You have been ill for a long time and your studies have halted. Since you are recovered, your lessons will resume tomorrow."
Yinreng saw his opening. "Imperial Father, I wish to study under Master Nan."
Master Nan was Ferdinand Verbiest, a Belgian Jesuit missionary serving in the Qing court. He was an expert in astronomy, geography, and mechanical engineering.
Kangxi raised an eyebrow. "Why Master Nan?"
"Yesterday, I broke the Western clock," Yinreng explained, adopting an earnest expression. "I heard they are incredibly expensive. If we learn how they work, we can manufacture and sell them. Last year, the earthquake drained the treasury, and Imperial Father worked until dawn every night. If I can make these clocks, Imperial Father will not have to worry about money during the next famine."
Kangxi was momentarily speechless. The Crown Prince of the Great Qing wanted to learn foreign mechanics not for play, but to ease his father's financial burdens. "Clocks are not easily made, Baocheng. If they were, they would not be valuable."
"We will not know unless I try! Please, Imperial Father?"
Though Kangxi did not truly believe a six-year-old could manufacture Western clocks, he was deeply moved by his son's filial piety. Acknowledging that Verbiest possessed genuine talent, Kangxi agreed.
Yinreng beamed, his goal achieved. He now had official sanction to study science and mechanics, perfectly masking any future modern inventions he might "discover."
Just then, Liang Jiugong slipped into the room and whispered into Kangxi's ear.
Kangxi's face instantly darkened into a terrifying scowl. However, in the blink of an eye, he smoothed his expression back into a warm smile. He finished his conversation with Yinreng and gently coaxed the boy into bed for an afternoon nap.
Yinreng closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. He knew Liang Jiugong had brought the results of Aunt Lan's interrogation. He was immensely curious about who had orchestrated the rumor, but he knew Kangxi would not share imperial interrogations with a child.
The moment Yinreng's breathing evened out, Kangxi turned and strode out of Yuqing Palace. His face was a mask of cold, murderous fury.