BSI Chapter 1: Transmigrating into the Yin'e Era, Can I Still Be a Good-for-Nothing?
Chapter 1: Transmigrating into the Yin'e Era, Can I Still Be a Good-for-Nothing?
Summer of the 46th year of the Kangxi Emperor's reign
Shichahai in Beijing, Nanguanfang Hutong, the residence of the Tenth Prince.
Late at night, the dark clouds hung low, making it hard to breathe.
When Jiang Xun opened his eyes, it felt like his mind had been filled with an entire library.
All the information exploded almost at the same moment.
Kangxi's sons, the struggle for the throne among his nine sons, the Eighth Prince's faction, the Fourth Prince's faction, the reckoning after Yongzheng ascended the throne...
There was another unfamiliar face reflected in the bronze mirror, with thick eyebrows, large eyes, and a strong profile, resembling that of a Manchu nobleman.
He was stunned.
No, his name is Jiang Xun. Yesterday, he was frantically typing away at his Excel spreadsheet at his workstation, while his boss was pressing him for a plan for next week. He didn't even have time to drink water.
I finally made it to 1:30 AM, and the moment I shut down my computer, it felt like I'd been punched hard in the chest, and then...
Gone.
When I woke up again, I was lying on this carved canopy bed, with brocade quilts and silk, and the curtains hanging low. The air was filled with the sweet scent of benzoin.
There was a woman lying next to him.
To be precise, she was a woman who was almost completely naked.
She lay on her side, her black hair spread across the pillow, revealing a section of her fair shoulder. She looked at him sleepily, her voice so soft it could melt water: "Master, it's only the fifth watch of the night, why are you awake already?"
Jiang Xun did not answer.
He didn't even glance at the woman.
Because he only had one thought in his mind right now: he had traveled through time.
Moreover, he transmigrated into a historically infamous unlucky character.
Aisin-Gioro Yin'e, the tenth son of Emperor Kangxi.
How prominent was Yin'e's maternal family?
Ebilun, one of the four regents of the Kangxi Emperor, was his maternal grandfather, and Nurhaci was his great-great-grandfather and great-great-great-grandfather. This lineage was among the best in the entire group of princes.
But the original owner played this winning hand terribly.
The original owner was reckless and impulsive, always following the Eighth Prince. In the end, he was imprisoned by Emperor Yongzheng for fourteen years and died in depression.
"Incompetent prince." Jiang Xun silently repeated these four words in his heart, his lips twitching involuntarily.
He sat up in bed, put on his coat, pushed open the door, and went out into the yard.
A night breeze swept over me, carrying the coolness unique to a summer morning.
He took a deep breath and felt the tightness in his chest dissipate considerably.
The courtyard was quiet, with only the distant sound of the watchman's clapper.
Jiang Xun stood under the eaves, letting the night wind blow against his face.
He needs time to process all of this.
Jiang Xun, a 26-year-old office worker, is an operations specialist at an internet company.
I squeeze onto the subway to get to work every day, and working overtime until the early hours of the morning is the norm. Rent takes up half of my salary, and I just grab whatever takeout I can get.
I never got to eat the pie in the sky that the boss promised, but I was fed a bellyful of motivational platitudes instead.
The greatest achievement in life is probably checking in on time for 300 consecutive days without being late.
Now, he is a prince of the current dynasty.
He knew better than anyone what the word "prince" meant when put together.
The princes of the Kangxi era were not to be trifled with.
Everyone was eyeing that dragon throne, and everyone was secretly building their own power.
Crown Prince Yinreng, Fourth Prince Yinzhen, Eighth Prince Yinsi, Ninth Prince Yintang, Fourteenth Prince Yinti...
He had heard these names countless times in TV dramas, but now he had to become sworn brothers with them and spend every day with them.
And this identity of his happens to be that of one of the core members of the Eighth Prince's Party.
The Eighth Prince Party.
Just thinking about those three words made Jiang Xun's temples throb.
Historically, opinions on Yinzhi (the Yongzheng Emperor) are polarized.
Some praised him for his virtue and ability, while others criticized him for being hypocritical.
But one thing is certain: he was the one who was best at winning people's hearts among all of Kangxi's sons.
Born into a humble family, with her mother being a lowly slave in the Imperial Household Department, she single-handedly managed to win over all the princes with powerful backgrounds, such as the Ninth Prince, the Tenth Prince, and the Fourteenth Prince, to her side.
In today's terms, this skill would make you a top salesperson and HR director.
The question is, what was the original owner's position within the Eighth Prince's faction?
Jiang Xun closed his eyes, and some blurry images flashed through his mind.
The original owner's actions while following Yinzhiqian were mostly mindless; he was always at the forefront, cursing, fighting, and offending people.
They didn't gain much benefit, but they accumulated a whole lot of bad reputation.
Not to mention the final outcome.
"No." Jiang Xun clenched his fist. "We absolutely cannot go down the same old path again."
He paced back and forth in the yard, his mind racing.
"The saying goes, 'If you wear Qing dynasty clothes and don't rebel, your child will be born without an anus.'"
"Then let me, a Han Chinese prince, overthrow your Tartar empire!"
Although Yin'e was full of ambition at this moment, after calming down, a practical problem was placed before him.
When the Yellow River flooded a while ago, Emperor Kangxi ordered the national treasury to allocate funds for disaster relief, but at that time the national treasury was already depleted, with only more than 500,000 taels left.
The remaining 20 million yuan was borrowed by officials at all levels.
Emperor Kangxi was furious. He sent his fourth son, Yinzhen, who had just returned from raising funds for disaster relief in Jiangnan, to collect the debt within one month.
Those who fail to repay by the due date will have their property confiscated to offset the debt.
The incompetent man who originally built the theater ended up owing the national treasury 200,000 taels of silver.
The fourth brother had visited several times before, but each visit ended in discord.
Do I really have to sell all ten princely mansions to pay off the debt?
That would be a huge loss of face.
With the one-month deadline fast approaching, Yin'e had no choice but to prepare to borrow money from his good brothers, the Eighth and Ninth Princes, the next day.
The next day, as dawn broke, the morning light streamed through the window into the room, casting pale golden beams of light.
The main house in the backyard of the Tenth Prince's Mansion.
Yin'e sat up abruptly; he had barely slept a wink all night.
His mind raced over and over this incredibly messy situation.
If this matter is not properly resolved, I'm afraid I won't even have time to wait for Yongzheng to ascend the throne before Kangxi will skin me alive.
"Someone come here to help me change my clothes."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable air of authority.
The young eunuch on night duty outside the door jumped in surprise and hurriedly pushed the door open.
Two palace maids followed behind, carrying copper basins, towels, and mouthwash.
"Master, why are you up so early today?" The young eunuch Fuquan asked cautiously as he helped her get dressed.
This gentleman usually doesn't get out of bed until the sun is high in the sky, so he's acting very strangely today. Could it be that he had a fight with Guo Luoluo last night?
Yin'e glanced at him but didn't say anything.
Fu Quan immediately fell silent, and his movements became even more swift.
He had served by the Tenth Master's side for three years and knew his master's temperament well.
When happy, he rewards people with silver like flowing water; when unhappy, he slaps them like rain.
His gloomy complexion today clearly belongs to the latter category.
The water in the copper basin was still warm. Yin'e scooped up the water and splashed it on his face. The warm touch completely dispelled his drowsiness.
He looked up at the unfamiliar face in the bronze mirror: thick eyebrows, large eyes, a high nose, a square jaw, and the ruggedness and heroic spirit unique to Manchu nobles.
"He does have a nice appearance," he thought to himself.
On the bed, Guo Luoluo turned over, and the quilt slipped down, revealing a section of her snow-white shoulder.
She opened her sleepy eyes, looked at Yin'e who was changing his clothes, and said coquettishly:
"Sir, what time is it? Why are you leaving already? Stay with us a little longer."
As she spoke, she reached out with one hand to grab Yin'e's sleeve, and with the other hand she pulled the blanket, barely covering one of her legs.
Her posture was languid and alluring, clearly indicating she intended to use her beauty to keep him there.
Yin'e glanced down at her.
To be honest, Guo Luoluo was indeed beautiful, with an oval face, cherry lips, and a natural charm in her eyes and brows.
But at this moment, his mind was filled with the two hundred thousand taels of silver, so he had no time to care about these sentimental matters.
He calmly withdrew his sleeve:
"You should get up quickly and go pay your respects to the Princess Consort."
Guo Luoluo was taken aback, and her coquettish smile froze on her face.
Before she could react, Yin'e added, "Also, cover up your chest, aren't you ashamed?"
After saying that, he turned and left, leaving Guo Luoluo sitting blankly on the bed, looking completely bewildered.
She looked down at herself, then looked up at Yin'e's departing figure, and for a moment she didn't know whether to cry or make a scene.
This guy was perfectly fine last night, but this morning he seems like a completely different person.