“Your Highness’ younger sister, Princess Changfeng, would be quite suitable.”

As soon as the words fell, Zhao Yen’s heart suddenly convulsed.

Wenren Lin, lips carrying a faint smile, lowered his gaze to scrutinize, taking in all her expressions, not letting slip the slightest trace of change.

The wind passed across the front of the hall, robes fluttering gracefully.

Yet Zhao Yen only stood there blankly in a daze. When she came back to herself, she slowly curved her eyes in a smile.

“Gu’s younger sister is naturally the best in the world, but regrettably she is not suitable to be matched with Prince Su.”

She praised herself in Zhao Yan’s tone, and those eyes, half-lowered with unease, also gained a trace of brightness. Tilting up her head, she said gently, “If Gu’s Grand Preceptor became Gu’s brother-in-law, would that not lower the generation? This would not accord with the principles of ethics.”

Wenren Lin’s smile lightened somewhat. His gaze swept over, trying to discern a bit of panic or helplessness from her jade-white face.

Yet her eyes were utterly clean, reflecting his visage, obscure and hard to distinguish.

Wenren Lin was not in a hurry. In the game of playing with people’s hearts, he always possessed great patience.

“That will depend on whether Your Highness gives this prince such an opportunity to lower the generation.”

He raised his hand to wipe away the dark red medicine staining the little prince’s robe, then turned his body and departed.

Behind, the steady footsteps gradually went farther and farther. In no time at all, even the faint rustle of his robe stirred by the cold wind vanished. Only then did Zhao Yen dare to release the five fingers clenched tightly into fists, exhaling a breath of white air.

Every meeting with Prince Su was like a stratagem-laden confrontation. For a moment, Zhao Yen thought her secret foundation was truly about to be exposed here. His pair of deep and intimidating eyes seemed as if they had already seen through everything.

Until he spoke of “Princess Changfeng”…

If Wenren Lin had already grasped ironclad evidence of her passing off fish eyes for pearls [pretending one thing for another], he would surely have acted directly within the Taiji Hall, and would never have spoken probing words in this manner. In other words, though he suspected the correct person, he held no true proof.

And with the identity he bore, he could not openly demand that the Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace verify the true body—that would be the crime of great disrespect.

Wenren Lin wanted to see her flustered and panicked appearance, wanted to see her throw herself into disorder. Yet Zhao Yen would not give him what he wished.

She knew that as long as she withstood his repeated tests and teasing, then for now she was without danger to her life.

The secret was wrapped layer upon layer beneath tight garments and the chest-binding. Even she herself only during the moments of bathing could see her true form. Wenren Lin would never have the chance to obtain real proof.

Never.

Zhao Yen gathered her clothes tighter around herself, as though guarding her final armor, steadying her spirit as she walked into the bleak cold wind.

Once the first month passed, the frost and snow melted.

In the wind there still remained the chill of winter, yet the sky was no longer gray and gloomy. Sunlight spilled down through milky clouds, carrying a trace of spring’s warmth.

However, this warmth was only a burden for Zhao Yen—for she still wore the fox-fur cloak essential to the Crown Prince, covering herself completely.

If it were last year when she had just returned to the palace, she might still have whispered a complaint or two of stifling heat. But now, lips pressed tight, she obediently endured.

It had been half a month since Wenren Lin’s last probing. With this reopening of studies at Chongwen Hall, who knew what pit Wenren Lin had dug this time, waiting for her to fall in.

At Changqing Gate, as her sedan stopped, there beneath the gateway waited a youth in martial attire with hair tied high in a horsetail.

Zhao Yen found the back of that youth in martial attire familiar. Before she could inquire, Liuying considerately spoke: “Her Highness feared Your Highness might be alone and weak, so she ordered the study companion to arrive in advance.”

Even as she said it, Pei Sa caught sight of the delicate and frail Crown Prince beneath the sunlight.

Zhao Yen had quite a good impression of him for speaking out righteously at the Winter Banquet. Just as she was about to take the initiative to greet, she saw Pei Sa reluctantly step forward and make a salute: “Your subject Pei Sa pays respect to His Highness the Crown Prince.”

Having spoken, he retreated to the side, not saying another word along the way, completely different from the warmth at the banquet.

Zhao Yen glanced a few times at his cold and rigid profile, and could not help but ask: “Is Shizi Pei in a bad mood?”

Pei Sa halted his steps, the broken brow with a small scar furrowing: “May I ask His Highness the Crown Prince, has your subject in any way offended you?”

These words left Zhao Yen bewildered: “At the Winter Banquet, Shizi spoke righteously on Gu’s behalf. Gu is still too late in feeling grateful—where comes the talk of ‘offense’?”

“If not so, then why was it precisely me chosen to be the study companion?” Pei Sa’s brows furrowed even tighter.

Zhao Yen blinked, indicating with her eyes: What is this about?

Liuying was likewise confused, gently shaking her head.

They had arrived earlier than expected; there were still two quarters of an hour before the time of chen, yet within Chongwen Hall there was already someone waiting.

With a study companion by her side, Zhao Yen’s confidence was somewhat stronger. Facing that figure standing behind the screen, she drew a deep breath before stepping into the hall, gathering her sleeves: “This student pays respect to—”

The words stuck in her throat. Zhao Yen looked in astonishment at the youth in scholarly azure robe: “Why is it you?”

Zhou Ji had been focused on observing the authentic “Cranes Crying Picture” on the wall. Hearing this, he turned around, his indifferent gaze pausing briefly on Zhao Yen’s face before a trace of doubt surfaced again.

Yet he was always one to know and uphold propriety. He quickly shifted away his gaze, bowing in salute: “Your subject Zhou Ji, temporarily holding the position of Lecturer-Scholar of the Eastern Palace, pays respect to His Highness the Crown Prince.”

Zhao Yen naturally knew that he was to be the future Lecturer of the Crown Prince… but were not the morning lessons always entrusted to the Grand Preceptor?

What did it matter!

As long as she could be far away from Wenren Lin, she was more than glad.

It was the first time Zhao Yen found Zhou Ji’s icy face so adorable. The corner of her lips curved imperceptibly, and she quickly said: “Gu has long admired little Mister Zhou’s great name, please, be seated.”

In her eyes, Zhou Ji saw an earnest eagerness as if anticipating sweet rain, which gave him a faint sense of dissonance.

Yet thinking that the Crown Prince always had a reputation for virtue, treating everyone with the same gentleness and warmth, he gradually let it go.

He inclined his head slightly in courtesy, then lifted his robe and sat properly, asking: “Your subject has just taken office and is still unaware of the prior teaching progress. I beg Your Highness to inform me—what text and passage are being studied now?”

Since Grand Preceptor Wen had retired, there had been several Hanlin scholars who lectured, but all were taking the role concurrently. The articles taught were a hammer here, a mallet there, without any systematic order at all.

Zhao Yen herself had no true interest in this, so she casually pointed out a passage she was familiar with: “Before the year, we had reached the second scroll of Essentials of the Spring and Autumn Annals.”

Zhou Ji signified his understanding. His warm and gentle fingers picked up the paperweight, brushing from left to right, and began to explain.

His voice was not as deep and mellow as Wenren Lin’s, but clear and cool like spring water washing over stones, calm and unruffled.

Zhao Yen had once despised Zhou Ji’s lecture tone as monotonous like chanting scripture. Only now did she realize she had not known her fortune when living in it. At least this little pedant before her spent his life befriending brush and ink, single-minded and upright, nothing like Wenren Lin, who was fair outside but treacherous within, dangerous and cunning.

At the right-hand desk, Pei Sa’s face was full of astonishment. Staring at Zhou Ji’s desk, empty of books, he could not help but ask: “He can lecture without even looking at a book?”

Zhao Yen was well accustomed to Zhou Ji’s teaching manner, and so answered with a smile: “Zhou Wanlan’s memory is excellent. With a chest of ten thousand scrolls, he can recite fluently backwards.”

Pei Sa grew solemn with respect, even the way he held his book straightened somewhat.

However—that scroll he held was upside down.

“……”

Now Zhao Yen understood where his fierce words of “offense” had come from—so the Heir of Marquis Jinping turned out to be a pure martial youth who did not recognize many characters at all.

To have such a boy sit properly in Chongwen Hall as a study companion, no wonder he was so sullen and displeased.

Zhao Yen was hesitating over whether or not to speak up and remind him, when she saw a shadow creeping from behind her, crossing over her head and spreading across the desk, enveloping her whole body within.

This familiar feeling…

Zhao Yen slowly turned her head. The first thing to enter her sight was the dark hem of a robe. Lifting her gaze higher—there was Wenren Lin’s handsome face, unreadable as to joy or anger.

What was meant to come had indeed come.

Zhao Yen quickly shifted her gaze away, feigning earnest attention on the book, when she heard Wenren Lin’s low voice descend from above: “Today Chongwen Hall is truly lively.”

Zhou Ji, having been wholly absorbed in lecturing just now, only reacted when Wenren Lin spoke, and he also lifted his eyes to look at him.

When their gazes met, Zhou Ji still sat upright like a pine, showing not the slightest timidity.

“Prince Su! Oh dear, it is all this old slave’s fault!”

The steward eunuch of Chongwen Hall timely broke the dead silence, explaining, “Lecturer Zhou is temporarily taking the place of the Junior Preceptor to give lessons to His Highness the Crown Prince. His Majesty allotted the hour of chen (7:00 a.m. – 9:00 a.m.) to Lecturer Zhou, while the martial lessons were moved to the hour of si (9:00 a.m. – 11:00 a.m.). This old slave had meant to personally go and deliver the reply to you, but who knew that Your Highness just happened to enter the palace to see the Emperor, thus the matter was delayed.”

The steward eunuch wiped the fine sweat from his forehead, smiling apologetically: “If Your Highness would… perhaps go to the rear hall to rest for an hour, allow this old slave to brew you a cup of hot tea as recompense?”

Wenren Lin’s temper seemed exceedingly good. His gaze lingered briefly on the back of the little Crown Prince’s lowered head, then with a slight lift of his hand he said: “No harm, this prince will just sit here and listen alongside.”

Having spoken, he went to the armchair where the Empress once had listened in, and grandly sat down, robe sleeves billowing, one finger resting at his temple as he signaled them to continue.

Naturally, the steward eunuch dared not dissuade. Seeing that Zhou Ji did not voice objection, he served the tea and withdrew haltingly.

Zhou Ji indeed had no interest in things outside of brush and ink—in fact, one might even say, somewhat dull.