The Rise of Qing-era racism

The fight was in favor of the emperor's son, while Yanlin was catching enthusiastic cheers, he understood that he had just succumbed and needed to start really training, and not to shirk as he had done before. He had always been more interested in archery than swinging a sword, but when he saw how hard and with what fury Yumin was training, he thought that he did not want to be worse than him, and even more so in his eyes to look like a spoiled nobody. Two years later, spring. Yumin turned seven. Yanlin was already nine at the time. And despite the age difference, the first one was clearly superior in combat skills. The father was surprised by his son's sudden zeal for battle, when earlier he was just having fun, and now he was running from early in the morning on the training field, he thought that malicious speeches about blond enemies affected him so much. This morning was no different from usual, after breakfast Yanlin took with him various goodies in a bag of red velvet with gold tassels. He carried food for Yumin every time. This time he saw him striking a tree. By how much Yumin did not grow up on these lands, and he was also a slave, he did not know any rules or etiquette and did not want to admit it. Therefore, Yanlin grinned and explained to him that nature should not be inaccessible to contemplation, and not a punching bag. — Look what I brought you. He took out a bag of food, and opening it, a lot of mouth-watering flavors flew, from buns to sweets. Yumin was no longer shy alone with the emperor's son and quickly attacked the food, anyone who saw how disrespectfully he behaved would immediately faint. Yanlin only laughed as he hugged Yumin's waist. He felt warmth and interest in him from the very first sight. I kissed him on the head. In general, it was not the first time he showed signs of attention, but Yumin was still younger and did not really understand the attitude towards himself, only rage boiled in him to become the best of all. And he considered the mercy of the emperor's son to be something temporarily incomprehensible. — Why did you do that? — Yumin said, slurping, as if devouring buns at speed. Yanlin began to spin nonsense busily. — It's customary to do this before a meal, when you treat someone. "You mean you'd kiss that nasty guard over there on the head if you gave him candy?" "I wouldn't give him anything because he's hitting you with a stick. — And I would have chopped it up. Yanlin was sometimes struck by the malicious statements of such a young child. But he decided not to dwell on it, knowing how his friend is treated, you will involuntarily begin to hate everyone and not recognize any rules. Therefore, he only taught Yumin manners, etiquette, history and everything he knew himself. At the same time, he repeated the material himself. They also fought together with wooden swords. True, Yumin always won, and Yanlin was wildly offended, falling to the ground for the hundredth time and seeing the tip of a wooden sword on his throat, he howled with displeasure "Well, let me win for once. — Nope. If it was considered bad form to defeat the emperor's son, and if the winner was also some dirty-blooded European who answered "nope", it was a sentence of execution and public censure, but Yanlin on the contrary liked that this was the only child who was sincere with him. He sat down on a log under a tree with a pouting face, and began to wail "If it was shooting, I would have shot an arrow right through your heart long ago. — I will learn how to deflect arrows with a sword. — Don't talk nonsense, what will you do to reflect them, with your hands? — I'll come up with a fencing technique. — Well, well, and I'll come up with a new kind of battles. Suddenly their childish argument was interrupted by the appearance of the emperor.