Prince Bei Jing of the Red Chamber, starting from saving Qin Keqing

Shui Rong raised his hand and pushed open the vermilion door of Ninghui Hall. A sense of desolation and old age, mixed with a faint smell of dust, rushed out.

The interior furnishings remained neat and tidy, with the tables, chairs, and desks all wiped clean and shiny. Only a thin layer of dust clung to the corners of the objects—after all, this was a forbidden area that he had strictly forbidden anyone in the mansion to enter without permission, and only the passage of time had quietly stood still over the years.

Upon stepping into this courtyard, the original owner's memories flooded back like a tidal wave:

The late princess's gentle instructions, the late prince's composed figure, the crabapple trees that once bloomed profusely in the courtyard... fragmented memories intertwined in his mind, making him momentarily dazed, unable to distinguish whether it was the original owner's obsession or his own empathy.

He composed himself, slowly walked to the desk and began rummaging through the old objects. His fingertips brushed against the old items, and suddenly he touched a cold, protruding spot in a hidden compartment of the bookshelf.

Before he could think it through, the floor tiles beneath his feet suddenly sank, revealing a dark, secret passage, and a feeling of weightlessness instantly washed over him.

Before he could react, he fell down the steps, his head hitting the stone surface hard, and a dull pain shot through him.

Shui Rong propped himself up on the ground and rubbed his throbbing forehead. Although he had practiced martial arts since childhood, the sudden fall and darkness still made his vision blur and his mind go blank.

He sat quietly for a while, and as the dizziness subsided, he slowly adjusted to the surrounding darkness and groped his way towards a faint light in the distance.

The light came from a stone platform deep inside the secret passage, where three brocade boxes were neatly arranged.

He stepped forward, picked up the middle one first, and gently lifted the lid. Inside, there was a bright yellow brocade and a sealed letter. On the envelope were four delicate characters that read "To Rong'er," written with loving kindness.

Shui Rong's heart stirred. She opened the envelope, and the late Princess's gentle words seemed to echo in her ears:

"Rong'er, by the time you open this letter, you must already have a girl you like."

"That girl must be gentle and kind-hearted to be worthy of my son."

"I won't say anything sentimental. There are some things you should know. Your original surname was not Shui, but Zhu, and your given name was Yiyuan. You are the fourteenth son of Emperor Yongtai."

"Your father, Shui Yanchen, died young, and your mother was frail and unable to bear children. In order to prevent the Shui clan's title from being coveted by collateral branches of the imperial family, and because your father had risked his life to protect Emperor Yongtai's empire and died in the suppression of a rebellion, Emperor Yongtai, in gratitude for his merits, adopted you into the Shui clan, bestowed upon you the surname Shui, and recorded you in the Shui clan's genealogy."

"This matter is a great secret, known only to you and His Majesty in the world today."

"I'm telling you this not so that you can fight for anything, but to give you confidence—if you don't want to be the Prince of Beijing, if you have higher aspirations, this letter will be your proof."

Upon reading this, Shui Rong felt a sudden, thunderous roar in her mind, as if struck by lightning.

He had always been suspicious of his elder brother's affectionate "younger brother," but he never imagined that his own background was so complicated, that he was actually of royal blood!

Shocked, his gaze shifted downwards, revealing a yellowed note beneath the letter, covered with numbers and related proportions—

As a modern person who had traveled from another world, and having already attempted to produce controllable gunpowder in this world, he immediately recognized it as a gunpowder formula!

Shui Rong's hands trembled uncontrollably, her eyes filled with disbelief.

Who but a fellow time traveler could recognize these proportions?

Could it be that the late Princess Consort was also a time traveler?

He clutched the note, his heart filled with mixed emotions. He was overwhelmed with the joy of meeting a kindred spirit in a foreign land, and he also felt a deep respect for his mother. With this formula, gunpowder could finally be fully developed, giving them more confidence in both defending the border and quelling rebellions.

He carefully tucked the note away from his body and then picked up the brocade box next to him.

Inside the box lay a mutton-fat jade bracelet, its texture warm and lustrous, with excellent translucency. The bracelet was carved with a lotus scroll pattern, clearly a priceless heirloom.

Next to the jade bracelet was another note, the handwriting still delicate and beautiful:

"Rong'er, this bracelet is a family heirloom of your father's lineage, and it is given to your future principal wife."

"As a prince, you are entitled to one wife and ten concubines according to the rules, but I never wished for you to do so."

"All I ask for in this life is that you find someone who loves you wholeheartedly and stay with you for life, just as your father treated me, a lifelong, one-on-one relationship."

"But if you have a heart set on a good man and wish to take many good men in your family, I will not stop you. This bracelet and the pair of rings in the box are all prepared for the principal wife. The gifts for the other concubines are scattered throughout the house. You can find them slowly in the future."

Shui Rong looked down at the bottom of the box and sure enough, there was a pair of plain silver rings lying there. The rings were carved with small twin lotus flowers, with exquisite patterns and a slightly cool touch.

His fingertips traced the rings, and the image of Lin Daiyu's pale and gentle face involuntarily appeared in his mind. A warm feeling welled up in his heart, and he secretly treasured the rings and put them away carefully.

Finally, there was the smallest brocade box. He opened the lid, and inside was only a black iron token with a powerful "water" character engraved in the center. The token had a unique shape and exuded an air of majesty.

Shui Rong stared at the token, his pupils suddenly contracting—its shape was similar to the token his elder brother had given him!

He was filled with doubts, but he didn't have time to investigate further. He first put the token into his pocket.

He searched the secret passage again, confirming that there was nothing else besides the three brocade boxes, before suddenly realizing: Oh no, he was so focused on looking at the objects that he forgot that the secret room was closed when he entered!

Shui Rong felt a surge of anxiety and quickly began to carefully feel along the walls of the secret passage, his fingertips tracing the rough stone surface.

After an unknown amount of time, I finally touched a slightly protruding stone button.

He pressed down gently, and a soft "boom" came from above. The floor tiles slowly moved away, and blinding light poured down—at this moment, he had never longed for light so much.

He leaped and landed steadily inside the house. Just as he regained his footing, he heard Zhao Zhong's anxious shouts from outside:

"Quickly! Search carefully! The Prince has disappeared from the manor. If anything goes wrong, we'll all lose our heads!"

Shui Rong looked down at his dusty, wrinkled court robes, shook his head helplessly, pushed open the door, and called out loudly to the flustered figures in the courtyard:

"Zhao Zhong, I am here, there is no need to panic."

"Your Highness!"

Upon hearing the sound, Zhao Zhong turned his head sharply. The anxiety and wariness in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by barely concealed joy. He quickly stepped forward, bowed deeply, and spoke in a very low voice.

"Your subordinate is incompetent. I just heard a strange noise coming from inside the hall. When I pushed the door open, the prince was nowhere to be seen. The guards in the manor have already secretly sealed off the courtyard and dared not make a sound."

As soon as he finished speaking, Zhao Zhongcai glanced up and noticed the dust on Shui Rong's clothes. His brows furrowed slightly, and his tone was full of caution: "Your Highness, is there something unusual about your attire...?"

Shui Rong stepped out of the room, brushing the dust off her sleeve. Her tone was calm yet carried an undeniable authority:

"It's alright. I was just looking for some old things left by my mother when I accidentally knocked over some ornaments, and they got a little dusty."

He deliberately downplayed the strangeness of the disappearance, then changed the subject and gave a deep order.

"Send two trusted nannies, along with several clean-handed maids, to thoroughly clean Ninghui Hall, leaving no corner untouched. Return all the old items to their original places after cleaning, and forbid anyone from touching anything in the hall."

"Also, have someone prepare water; I need to change my clothes."

"Your subordinate obeys."

Although Zhao Zhong had doubts, he knew that the prince always planned carefully before acting, so he dared not ask any more questions. He immediately bowed and accepted the order, then secretly signaled the guards to remove the blockade, leaving only his trusted confidants to stand guard outside.

Shui Rong returned to her bedchamber to change, her fingertips caressing the gunpowder formula and the black iron token she kept close to her body, her heart churning with emotion.

Every item left behind by the mother holds a shocking secret—her royal bloodline, a gunpowder formula powerful enough to turn the tide of war, and a strangely shaped token.

These are not relics; they are clearly paving a thorny path for him, one that also conceals power.

He must hold onto these chips firmly in order to protect himself in the struggle for the throne between the Crown Prince and the King of Qin, and to better achieve his own strategic goals.

After changing into a moon-white brocade robe, Shui Rong slowly walked into the study, spread the gunpowder formula on the table, and studied it carefully.

He drew upon his modern chemical knowledge to scribble several optimized proportions on the paper, his fingertips lightly touching the surface, his eyes deep and thoughtful.

If this gunpowder can be made according to the new formula, its power will be controllable and portable. Whether it is to investigate and confiscate corruption in the south or to deal with the chaos on the border, it will be a deadly trump card.

"Come in." He raised his eyes and gave a soft shout, his voice not loud, but it reached the ears of the guards outside the courtyard with precision.

A moment later, a servant dressed in a short gray cloth outfit strode into the study. He was tall and straight, with a solemn expression. When he knelt on one knee, his posture was as standard as a soldier's. This was Qin Feng, the commander of the Prince's Palace's secret guards.

"Your subordinate is here."

Shui Rong folded the paper with the recipe written on it and threw it over, her tone cold:

"Take this paper to the secret camp outside the city, and re-refine the gunpowder according to the proportions on it, focusing on testing the controllability of its power."

"This matter is top secret. No one else is allowed to know about it except you and me. If anyone leaks even the slightest information, they will be beheaded."

"Your subordinate obeys!" Qin Feng took the paper, hid it close to his body, kowtowed again, and quietly withdrew.