Zhao Yen quickly steadied her mind, lifted her eyes as if nothing had happened, and with a smile said:

“Lecturer Zhou’s eyes, how is it that whoever you look at, all appear like old acquaintances?”

Zhou Ji’s refined features were gilded with a layer of midsummer’s warm light, like snow on a lofty mountain—cold and pure.

He concealed his small fault of failing to recognize people extremely well. By reason, His Highness the Crown Prince ought not to know.

The fragrance clock struck the pearl, producing a crisp ding-ling sound. The literary lesson was over.

Beside her, Pei Sa stretched his waist, raised his hand to rub his stiff neck.

Zhou Ji stopped at the proper time, without pursuing further. He inclined his head, offering a shallow smile, then gathered the papers and ink on the desk, arranging them one by one neatly in order. Only then did he rise, draw in his sleeves, and take his leave.

This little pedant Zhou Ji had one advantage: whatever he did, he adhered strictly to principle. When the striking of the pearl sounded, he lectured; when the striking of the pearl sounded again, the class was over. What ought to be spoken of, not one word less; what ought not be asked, absolutely no dragging, no extra speech.

Zhao Yen exhaled lightly. At the same time as feeling relieved, she could not conceal her puzzlement.

Was Zhou Ji not somewhat face-blind? Why was it, when it came to her, that he became all the more keen—two or three times nearly recognizing her?

Having one Wenren Lin was already enough for her to cope with. Now again one Zhou Ji, whose stance as enemy or friend was yet unknown…

Zhao Yen could not help but feel a pang of dismay. Propping her cheek, she let out a long sigh.

Pei Sa, seeing this frail little Crown Prince with a weary countenance all over, could not help inserting a word:

“Your Highness the Crown Prince did not sleep well last night? Since morning I have seen Your Highness without spirit, and the voice is also hoarse.”

No sooner had the words fallen than came the sound of steady footsteps drawing near. From behind, Wenren Lin’s low, smiling voice sounded:

“Yes indeed, what was His Highness doing last night?”

He deliberately slowed his tone, carrying a hint of teasing.

Within the cool Chongwen Hall it was as if a wave of heat surged in. Zhao Yen pressed the back of her hand against her cheek and muttered:

“Reciting books for half the night, naturally the voice is hoarse.”

“In such oppressive summer heat, His Highness still burns the lamp to read deep into the night?”

The young martial man Pei Sa could not conceal his astonishment. In the gaze with which he looked at Zhao Yen, there was already several parts more of reverence.

With a guilty heart Zhao Yen turned her eyes away, staring at the bright shadows upon the window ledge, not daring to look at what expression Wenren Lin bore at this moment.

“Grand Preceptor, today is the lesson in riding and archery, is it not?”

Pei Sa, not perceiving the subtlety of the atmosphere, impatiently rose and loosened his limbs.

Wenren Lin acted as though he had not heard. He only stopped beside Zhao Yen’s desk, bent over, tilted his head, and said:

“May I request His Highness to change into the riding-and-archery attire, and move to the training ground.”

His voice was low and deep. Zhao Yen’s eyelashes trembled involuntarily.

The piled-up clouds at the horizon covered the scorching sunlight. Shadows slowly encroached, even the wind carried coolness.

It was indeed fine weather for practicing riding and archery.

Within the small training ground, the horse-handlers held several fine steeds in readiness. These horses were for the most part temporarily borrowed from the stables of the Court of the Imperial Stud, yet there were also two steeds personally selected by Wenren Lin and presented into the palace.

Among them, one horse was entirely snow-white, its mane smooth and divided along the neck’s side, its eyelashes curling like snow over its jet-black pupils. Not especially tall, yet its coat was raised and kept smooth as snow-satin, appearing exceedingly gentle and elegant.

At a glance Pei Sa knew that this gentle, beautiful colt was prepared for His Highness the Crown Prince. Thus he very sensibly went aside, chose an inferior brown horse, and leapt upon it in one motion, full of martial vigor.

“How is it?” Wenren Lin asked Zhao Yen.

He had always kept his word. Since he had promised that once the little Highness’s body was better he would teach her riding and archery, he would certainly accomplish it.

Not only would he personally instruct, but he had even gifted a steed one in ten-thousand.

Zhao Yen patted the white horse’s neck, yet her gaze turned toward the other horse beside it, snorting loudly—the rouge-red steed.

Its coat was glossy and blazing red, with only a streak of white at its forehead; its pupils shone bright with a violet tinge. Its frame was sturdy, its limbs powerful—at a glance one could tell it was a steed that could run a thousand li.

Had it been last year, Zhao Yen would certainly have imitated her elder brother’s temperament and chosen that beautiful, gentle white horse. But now, before Wenren Lin, there was no need for disguise. She directly and openly chose what she liked.

“I want this rouge horse.”

Zhao Yen, dressed in an apricot-white riding-and-archery robe with tightened sleeves, looked toward Wenren Lin.

Wenren Lin, seeing in her eyes the scattered light of anticipation, could not help but recall the road to Yuquan Palace—she in a pomegranate-red dress, with light gauze covering her face. That kind of radiance, enough to match this blazing red horse.

“This horse is rather tall, and has somewhat of a temper.”

Wenren Lin slipped the jade-inlaid ring from his index finger and set it lightly upon the desk, then came down with hands clasped behind him. Hand over hand, he instructed Zhao Yen:

“Before mounting its back, you must first let this beast become familiar with Your Highness.”

Zhao Yen nodded, standing squarely before the horse, lifting her hand to touch the white streak upon its forehead.

The red horse stubbornly backed two steps, pawed the ground with its hooves, and raised its head with a cry.

“Do not retreat—fix your gaze upon it.”

Wenren Lin extended his arm from beside her, his palm enclosing Zhao Yen’s hand, guiding her to stroke down from the horse’s head, landing upon the reins at the bridle.

“A fine steed understands human nature. If you show timidity before it, you will not be able to mount its back.”

Today Wenren Lin too wore a deep-red martial robe with tightened sleeves, black wrist-guards bound at his arms. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow—like that red horse, equally unbridled, equally vigorous.

For a moment Zhao Yen felt an absurd illusion—was it the horse she was taming, or this man beside her…

Wenren Lin’s long, pale, cold hand withdrew. The red horse gave a snort.

Zhao Yen instantly returned to herself, concentrating wholly on engaging with the horse. She led it around the training ground in half a circle. Seeing the red horse gradually calm, no longer resisting, she then stepped upon the wooden stool a servant handed over and reached for the stirrup.

The horse’s back was somewhat high. She pulled on the saddle with some effort.

When the servant came forth to assist, Zhao Yen pressed her lips together and refused:

“I will do it myself.”

So speaking, she pressed off with her foot, raised her leg across, and sat upright and steady upon the horse’s back.

At Huayang she had once secretly ridden a colt; she was not wholly an ignorant novice. Before long, she was already able to guide the horse to walk slowly along the edge.

Wenren Lin followed within the shadow of the steps, from time to time speaking out a word or two of instruction.

The clouds parted, the sunlight spilled forth. The little Highness gripped the small jet-black whip, her cheeks flushed like glistening lychee-red, her robes fluttering lightly with the wind, drawing dazzling arcs beneath the sunlight.

It was Zhao Yen’s first time riding a tall steed. She did not hurry forward rashly, and when it seemed sufficient she reined back to return.

Who would have thought—Pei Sa’s horse at that moment came galloping past, raising behind it a trail of dust.

Pei Sa’s riding skill was excellent; he reined in and halted in time.

But beneath Zhao Yen, the red horse was startled, rising up on its hind legs.

Wenren Lin’s gaze darkened. In the flash of an instant, his hand had seized the reins and pressed them down, the force so great that the bones of his fingers turned faintly white. He pulled the restless horse down until it let out a shrill neigh, its hooves clattering back upon the ground—yet he still gripped the reins tightly.

An ordinary person would long since have been thrown from the horse’s back and trampled under its hooves.

But Zhao Yen’s body leaned forward, her hands gripping the saddle tight. Astonishingly, she steadied herself.

She let out a long breath, and for once revealed a smiling face, peach-blossom eyes curved like crescents.

This was how she ought to be—proud as the wind, spirited and dazzling.

The heart suddenly contracted, then expanded without limit. Wenren Lin felt the unfamiliar aftershock within his chest cavity.

His heart should already have died seven years ago amidst a heap of rotting corpses, leaving only cold numbness, whistling hollow with wind.

But if the heart was dead, then what was this surging undercurrent at this moment?

Zhao Yen, still unsatisfied, dismounted. Having been jolted just now, there was a slight ache between her thighs. When she landed, she staggered faintly.

Wenren Lin’s gaze was still cold, yet he instinctively raised his arm to steady her.

Zhao Yen’s cheeks were flushed crimson; standing firm with hurried breath, she turned her head back to Wenren Lin and smiled:

“Many thanks, Grand Preceptor.”

The dark depth in Wenren Lin’s eyes faded. Taking the clean kerchief a servant handed him, he casually wiped away the beads of sweat at her temples.

Pei Sa was leading his horse past, when he heard a low, leisurely voice drift over:

“Since Shizi Pei is so fond of galloping horses, why not run thirty more laps around the training ground.”

Pei Sa’s back stiffened slightly. He could only mount again, and under the blazing sun circle the field one round after another.

When the lesson ended, Zhao Yen once again verified with the Ministry of Rites and the Court of Imperial Banquets the arrangements for the Empress’s birthday feast, cutting down some expenses. For items such as vessels, furnishings, silk flowers and damask that could be reused, they could be drawn from the existing palace stores, without the need to procure new ones.

By the time she returned to the Eastern Palace, it was already sunset and dusk.

Zhao Yen’s limbs were sore. Sitting in the study to recover her strength, she saw Gu Xing enter across the central courtyard with a hand on his sword, clasping his fists outside the door.

“Come in.”

Zhao Yen’s eyes lit up. She gathered her spirits and asked:

“Is it regarding the Candle-Snake’s musk gland—there is progress?”

The candle-snake’s yield was extremely rare. From the tenth year of Tianyou onward it had become a yearly tribute from the southern borderlands. For the high ministers and nobles in the palace to possess even one or two qian for medicinal use was already an immense favor.

From where did Zhao Yuanyu obtain so many candle-snake musk glands for alchemy? There had to be something suspicious in this.

Gu Xing presented the clues he had found with both hands for Zhao Yen to see, and reported:

“Humble subordinate, following the lead provided by Imperial Physician Zhang, personally went to the black market. That old Daoist who peddled medicine was extremely cautious. Humble subordinate and men kept watch day and night, only last night at midnight following the one who traded with that Daoist.”

“How was it?”

“Humble subordinate feared alarming the snake, and so followed all the way. At dawn, I saw that man mingled into the palace servants who went out to make purchases, and entered the palace.”

The palace?

Zhao Yen’s heart sank. She asked: “Is it known what sort of person in the palace?”

Gu Xing said: “Humble subordinate heard that when the man traded with the old Daoist, he said the words: ‘Shen Guang descends upon the world, boundless immortal master.’ It was the same as what that Daoist nun at Jinyun Villa spoke. I think he is one of the sect.”

Beneath the Son of Heaven’s throne—the Sect of Shen Guang…

Zhao Yen’s temples throbbed. This was already the worst result she had imagined.

According to Zhao Yan’s reformist political theory, the great clans of Great Xuan were rooted deep as forests, not something that could be shaken in a single day, unless by dynastic change could they be thoroughly eradicated. But handling the Sect of Shen Guang was much simpler. Execute or exile those so-called “True Men” and “Immortal Masters,” and it would suffice to dissolve this parasite gnawing at Great Xuan’s bones.

For the sake of survival, the Sect of Shen Guang was highly likely to strike at the Crown Prince in secret.

Yet above the Sect of Shen Guang stood the Son of Heaven himself. The Eastern Palace’s power was far too thin. To act—how could it be easy?

But she must walk this path. She must make all those who harmed Zhao Yan and the scholars of the Mingde Hall pay the price they deserved, to bring comfort to that group of pure, fearless young souls beneath the spring earth.