“What did he… just say?”

Zhao Yen seemed as if she had misheard, and asked the elder eunuch beside her who was holding a horsetail whisk.

The elder eunuch wore a smile, bent his body, and repeated with utmost clarity: “His Highness Prince Su concurrently serves as the Crown Prince’s Grand Preceptor, assisting the Eastern Palace. It is by His Majesty’s own approval.”

The Great Xuan Dynasty was finished, beyond saving.

And who was Wenren Lin?

He was the one who, at the slightest disagreement, could flog to death a fifth-rank court official to establish authority, whose mere stomping of foot could cause the entire Imperial City to tremble thrice.

To let a non-imperial prince whose power overshadowed the court assist the Crown Prince who had not yet taken shape—was this not the same as sending a hostage right to his hand to be grasped? What was Father Emperor thinking?

Amidst her chaotic thoughts, Wenren Lin had already shaken his robe and risen.

From beneath the dark robe of civil-and-military design was revealed a collar of inner garment red as blood, splendid and magnificent. His bearing remained unrestrained and at ease, his countenance warm and harmless, yet Zhao Yen could no longer retrieve the calm state of mind she had when first meeting him in the warm pavilion—only feeling as though water surged to her throat, an oppressive force, difficult to breathe.

Wenren Lin stopped before her, examined her for a moment, then lightly raised his arm.

From the tightly bound martial sleeve, the hand that emerged was long and powerful, veins faintly protruding.

Would he kill her?

Zhao Yen thought of the splattering blood at the Changqing Gate, and her heartstrings could not help but tighten.

Yet that hand which held power over life and death, in a movement natural, merely fell upon her thick fur-collared shoulder.

“The Crown Prince’s body is frail, it is no matter to sit and speak.”

Without seeing Wenren Lin exert any force, Zhao Yen’s shoulder suddenly sank, and she tumbled down into the seat behind the desk.

She blinked, unable to collect herself.

The hand upon her shoulder was not heavy, yet it caused a dread from the depths of the heart. Zhao Yen turned her head, feigned a cough to evade, and said softly: “Many thanks to Prince Su for your consideration.”

The warmth beneath his palm vanished in an instant. Wenren Lin lightly curled his five fingers, not minding much.

The little Crown Prince’s frame was as slender as a woman’s, as though one could crush it with the slightest force. Shoulders such as these—how could they bear the wild tempests of this chaotic world?

Wenren Lin leaned forward, his long arm extending from behind, crossing by the Crown Prince’s ear, using a white-jade paperweight to smooth out the sheet of xuan paper inch by inch before her.

Sensing that small frame shudder slightly, the disdain in his eyes deepened.

“This prince came to office in haste, the Ministry of Rites has not yet prepared anything, therefore today we shall not hold the ceremony of acknowledging the master. Let the Crown Prince first compose a policy essay, that this prince may take a look at your level, so as to teach according to ability.”

The words “teach according to ability,” he spoke with particular ease and slowness, as though idly chatting about household matters.

Zhao Yen’s eyelashes trembled.

There were no outsiders in the Chongwen Hall, yet what she had said yesterday in conversation with Grand Preceptor Wen had today come out of Wenren Lin’s mouth…

The ears and eyes of Prince Su’s residence, truly terrifying in their keenness!

“Prince Su is thoughtful.”

Zhao Yen sat upright, even more cautious and careful than when facing the Emperor, fearing lest any trace be seen.

Wenren Lin smiled faintly, and maintaining his posture of leaning over the paper, slightly turned his head.

“The Crown Prince has done something guilty.”

This posture was exceedingly close, the deep voice seemed to sound right by the ear, “Otherwise, why would you be so nervous upon seeing this prince?”

Calm…

Do not throw oneself into disorder.

Zhao Yen’s expression did not change, imitating from memory Zhao Yan’s gentle and mild manner, and said: “Prince Su’s might and fame spread far and wide, it is hard for me not to be nervous.”

Wenren Lin gave a light laugh, neither affirming nor denying.

“This prince wields the blade for the Son of Heaven, and only kills those guilty in secret chambers.”

His hand did not cease from grinding the ink, and with a breath exceedingly light he asked, “The Crown Prince should not have hidden any unspeakable secrets, should he?”

Zhao Yen suppressed the urge to tremble, and answered in a strict and proper tone: “I am young and ignorant, even living is difficult—how could I have any secrets that could be hidden from Prince Su?”

Wenren Lin quietly slanted his gaze at her.

After a moment, he suddenly raised his brows and spread his expression in a smile, as if the cold oppressive force just now had been nothing more than a harmless jest.

“Only a joke, yet the Crown Prince took it as real.”

Wenren Lin unhurriedly lifted the brush, moistened it with ink, and handed it over before the little Crown Prince, who could not help but be frightened.

How would Zhao Yen dare to touch the paper and brush he extended?

She had no choice but to use the same trick again, raising her fist against her lips in a light cough, supporting her forehead as though weak, and said: “These recent days are cold, I am frail and dizzy of sight, I fear I cannot produce any good essay.”

Wenren Lin nodded, withdrew the brush, and said: “It was this prince’s lack of consideration.”

Eh, so easy to speak with?

Zhao Yen’s heart was suspicious, and secretly with the corner of her eye stole a glance—only to see Wenren Lin’s right hand, having set down the brush, turn and reach toward her wrist.

Her eyelid twitched, and she hurriedly drew back her hand, hiding it in the sleeve of her robe, speaking in a weak voice: “What is Prince Su doing?”

As she drew back, the pad of Wenren Lin’s finger brushed across the back of her hand, icy cold, raising a trail of shudder.

His hand, actually held not a trace of human warmth.

Wenren Lin’s fingertip paused slightly, then slowly lifted his eyelids to look at her: “This prince knows somewhat of the art of medicine, I could take the Crown Prince’s pulse and regulate it somewhat.”

Zhao Yen secretly clenched her teeth—her little stratagems were of no worth at all before Wenren Lin.

The pulse was the gate of life—illness or health would be known at a touch, not to mention that the pulses of man and woman were of yin and yang, inherently different.

Her smile became less natural, and tightening the fox-fur robe she said: “To regulate my health is the duty of the Imperial Medical Office, such a trifling matter… need not trouble His Highness Prince Su.”

“The Crown Prince’s body concerns the safety of the realm, it cannot be considered a trifling matter.”

Wenren Lin bore the appearance of an upright gentleman, yet the smile in his eyes clearly revealed a dark profundity unfathomable. “Or does the Crown Prince think that this prince is not even the equal of the Imperial Medical Office’s useless physicians?”

Zhao Yen’s throat was parched, yet she forced herself to remain steady and said: “My current circumstances, Prince Su should be aware. Not long ago I narrowly escaped death. If, while you were regulating me, some mishap were to occur, the entanglement would be unclear, and might even implicate you.”

Having spoken, she tremulously lifted her moist eyes, a look of “I am also considering for you,” timid and sincere, as earnest as could be.

Wenren Lin was rather surprised by her reaction, yet did not withdraw his hand. The forefinger wearing the eagle-patterned black-iron ring fell upon the edge of the desk, tapping lightly and unhurriedly.

The invisible pressure was extremely strong.

At this critical moment, Empress Wei burst in.

Her phoenix robe trailed magnificently along the floor; as the Mother of the Nation, she carried the valiant bearing of a female general, her voice cold as she said: “Prince Su truly has fine leisure! The civil and military officials of the court are not enough for you to manage, now you even take to teaching? Has the world’s loyal ministers and good generals all died out?”

Liuying followed with lowered head behind the Empress. Zhao Yen thus knew it was she who had quietly brought reinforcements, and could not help but secretly let out a long breath of relief.

She rose and performed a salute, and the eunuchs who had been serving brush, ink, tea, and water in the hall all simultaneously withdrew and kowtowed.

Amidst the chorus of kneeling, Wenren Lin’s figure stood with hands clasped behind his back, upright, appearing especially striking.

He actually did not even perform a bow, only inclined his head slightly as if in greeting: “Your Ladyship praises falsely. Though this prince is young, to teach His Highness the Crown Prince is still within capacity. As for Your Ladyship the Empress, you…”

He paused: “So hurriedly rushing here, those who do not know might think the Empress is eager to conceal something.”

“This palace has only this one son, I cannot help but frequently come to watch over and care for him.”

Empress Wei’s phoenix eyes were cold, her tone not without ridicule: “After all, the means by which Prince Su deals with others are truly formidable.”

The palace attendants trembled, lowering their heads, not daring to breathe a sound.

The only one abnormal was Wenren Lin—he was not in the least displeased, even having the mood to give a low laugh.

“For the Empress to bestow face by listening, it is this prince’s honor.”

Wenren Lin turned and seated himself in the grand master’s chair, and said toward the attendants: “Why are you dazing there, do you mean to let the Empress stand and listen to the lecture?”

Only then did the palace attendants come alive—some moving chairs, some brewing tea.

Wenren Lin no longer made the Crown Prince write an essay, but only picked up a copy of the Six Secret Teachings, and began to explain.

His voice was low and mellow, pleasant to hear, speaking fluently and with ease. He could make the dry and abstract art of war clear and simple, and the sight of him holding the scroll with one hand carried somewhat the bearing of a scholarly general.

Unfortunately, Zhao Yen truly had no mood to listen closely.

Caught between the Empress and Prince Su, she only felt as though deities were crossing blows, undercurrents surging beneath.

At last, when the bell sounded, Wenren Lin did not drag on, but set down the half-spoken military text and rose to take his leave.

One lesson passed in heart-palpitating fear. Zhao Yen collapsed forward onto the desk as though her entire body’s strength had been drained, as if receiving amnesty.

Coming back to herself, she realized her back was cold and clammy, her undergarment already soaked with cold sweat.

On the back of her hand it still seemed as if Wenren Lin’s temperature lingered, cold to the marrow.

The Empress rose, and made a sign with her eyes.

Liuying understood, leading the eunuchs and attendants to withdraw.

Zhao Yen knew what her mother wished to ask, and with a hoarse and weary voice said: “This place is not safe, let us speak after returning.”

Prince Su’s residence had eyes and ears reaching the heavens; what she had spoken yesterday with Grand Preceptor Wen had already been carried to Wenren Lin’s ears—she absolutely could not discuss secrets here.

Back at the Eastern Palace, as soon as the great door was shut, Empress Wei’s cold voice came from behind.

“What did he say to you before? Was there anything unusual?”

Zhao Yen had faced Wenren Lin’s oppression alone, crossing blows and maneuvering with him for so long, yet the first words her mother spoke in concern were not of her fear and dread, but whether the plan had been exposed.

Zhao Yen slumped upon the soft couch, pressing down the lingering fear, and said: “For now I managed to muddle through. But if it happens a few more times, I may not be able to come away unscathed.”

She had thoroughly come to understand—Prince Su was skilled in schemes, ruthless and merciless. His degree of danger was by no means comparable to that rabble under Prince Yong.

She must find an opportunity to escape his control.

Yes— the rebels of Shuchuan!

Zhao Yen’s eyes lit up: at present, with the bitter cold of winter, the rebels of Shuchuan could not endure the severe chill. It was precisely the best time to counterattack Shuchuan. If she could make Father Emperor dispatch Prince Su out of the capital to suppress the rebellion, then within the palace she could obtain a chance to breathe.

Empress Wei saw her daughter’s eyes spinning round and round, and knew what she was plotting in her heart.

She knit her brows, and mercilessly said: “I advise you not to let your thoughts run wild. Your father will not march to battle.”

“Why?”

Zhao Yen raised her eyes, half-believing, half-doubting: “The heavy snows of recent days—one may take advantage of them to pursue the attack, and also transfer away Prince Su. It is a plan of killing two birds with one stone. Why not march to battle?”

Empress Wei’s red lips moved.

She seemed as if she wished to say something, but in the end nothing came out.

“This is not a matter for you to manage. Fortunately, Yan’er seldom shows his face, and Prince Su also knows little of him. If Wenren Lin should use stratagems to trick you, you need only hold steady—this palace shall shield all matters.”

Empress Wei turned with her robe trailing, every word stern and resolute: “Only one point—under no circumstance let him take the opportunity to touch you! Otherwise, the difference between man and woman may not be concealed from his eyes.”

At that time, not only the two of them as mother and daughter, but the entire Great Xuan would fall into purgatory.

At this moment, the man regarded as a fiendish demon was leaning upon the beauty-rest in the warm pavilion, holding a small pouch of dried meat, teasing the wild cats that roamed the palace.

There were spotted ones, black ones, white ones—all with tails raised, circling this handsome demon, mewing and lightly rubbing against him.

The Prince Su who killed without blinking lowered his eyelids, a smile lingering upon his lips, at times tenderly using a finger to scratch a cat’s chin—the scene had an oddly harmonious air.

“To lead an army in suppressing rebellion requires mountains of gold and silver. Does the Emperor at present have them to hand?”

He raised his hand and scattered a handful of dried meat, elegance wholly natural.

The more chaotic the times of war and famine, the more the nation as a whole sought immortals and asked the Dao, praying to escape the bitter sea.

These years, the silver of the national treasury had long been transformed into the silks and food of the three thousand members of the imperial clan, into every brick and tile of Daoist temples and palaces. What remained of the Great Xuan was only a splendid empty shell, tottering and about to collapse.

Zhang Cang hesitated: “Even if there is no need to personally lead the troops to battle, Your Highness need not yourself go to watch over the Crown Prince. Such a trifling matter may be left to those below to do.”

Wenren Lin slanted his eyes lazily, looking at Zhang Cang.

The wild cats that had just been begging for food seemed startled by an unseen aura, and with a cry their fur bristled and they scattered away, only a few scraps of dried meat left behind on the steps.

Wenren Lin rose with hands clasped behind his back, black boots crushing over the remnants, and said lightly: “Next time before this prince acts, shall I first consult you?”

Zhang Cang’s dark face instantly blanched a degree, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he said: “This humble official has spoken wrongly.”

But Wenren Lin had already passed him by, walking straight on.

The palace corridors were long; no one knew what he was plotting in his heart.

So many years, even Zhang Cang had never truly understood his own master.

Only one thing could be certain: if the little Crown Prince fell into Prince Su’s hands, the days would surely not be easy.