Zhao Yen sat on the couch wrapped in her bedding, her face peeking out like a silkworm cocoon, carrying a trace of pallor.

Liuying placed the freshly decocted bitter medicinal soup on the desk, unable to conceal the sympathy in her eyes as she looked at her mistress.

Prince Su had become Crown Prince’s Grand Mentor; no one had expected matters would develop toward the worst direction…

As things had come to this point, they could only take one step at a time.

Liuying hardened her heart, and at last spoke: “Today the Ministry of Rites presides over the apprenticeship ceremony. Your Highness cannot be absent.”

At these words, Zhao Yen’s body slumped to the side, listlessly blowing at the loose lock of hair hanging before her forehead.

Resistance was resistance, but it was impossible to truly disregard the larger situation, to shrink back and evade.

She took several deep breaths, and when she was ready, stretched her slender arm out from the bedding, palm upward, beckoning.

Liuying understood, and hastily placed the throat-nourishing medicine in her palm.

Zhao Yen furrowed her brows, and gulped it all down in big mouthfuls.

When rising to change clothes, ordinarily she always disliked Liuying’s heavy hand, binding her chest so tight it made it hard to breathe. Yet today she obediently gritted her teeth, enduring the pain of the chest-binding without a sound.

Snow in the palace had melted, and sedan-chair passage was restored.

On the road to Chongwen Hall, Zhao Yen took out the booklet recording her elder brother’s interpersonal relations and habits, carefully studying it.

The morning light poured in through the swaying hanging curtain, gilding her eyelashes; her lips pressed tightly, her expression more serious than ever before, as though this trip were not to attend a lecture, but to face an execution ground.

Liuying observed the movements around them, secretly sighing.

After all, Her Highness was but a girl of hairpin age; no matter how sharp-tongued she was on ordinary days, when crossing hands with someone as deeply scheming as Prince Su, she would still show timidity.

Outside Chongwen Hall, the officials of the Ministry of Rites stood in position.

When the auspicious time arrived, Wenren Lin approached at an unhurried pace, wearing the formal vermilion official robe.

Liuying stepped forward to straighten her mistress’s robes, taking the chance to lower her voice: “Her Majesty will have Li Fu attend and serve; Your Highness need not be nervous.”

Zhao Yen glanced back from the corner of her eye, and indeed saw a familiar little eunuch holding the token of respect for the teacher, smiling at her with a small tiger tooth revealed.

Zhao Yen remembered this face—an attendant personally trained and approved by her Imperial Mother. Though young, with tender and fair appearance, he handled matters with keen agility; he was a trusted and reliable servant.

Zhao Yen felt somewhat reassured.

According to ritual, when the Crown Prince acknowledged the Grand Mentor, he must kneel and kowtow, to show respect for teacher and the Way.

Yet toward such a man…

Zhao Yen’s thoughts were in turmoil. She could only persuade herself that the one seated above was but a carved jade statue; to bow to a statue was nothing to fear.

“The Crown Prince is of noble golden branch and jade leaves; such tedious rites may be dispensed with.”

Wenren Lin opened his golden mouth, as though he had seen straight through her thoughts.

Zhao Yen knew he harbored no good intentions, yet on her face she displayed an expression of gratitude, gathering her sleeves as she performed a proper student’s salute toward the hall: “This student thanks the Grand Mentor.”

Ordinarily, if a minister received such a grand courtesy from the Heir Apparent, he would step aside to avoid it.

But Wenren Lin could not even be bothered with the pretense of humility, calmly accepting it. And who would dare say he was arrogant?

The Rites-officiating official led the Crown Prince into the hall, while the attendant Li Fu presented the six ritual offerings of apprenticeship.

In the great brazier incense was burning. On the upper seat, Wenren Lin wore a robe of vermilion gauze, his appearance like that of a deity.

His eyes were exceedingly fine-looking, yet when opened upon others, they carried no warmth, only a chilling oppression.

Zhao Yen gathered her spirit to the utmost, personally pouring wine, raising it above her brows, bowing once more in salute: “This student receives instruction from the Grand Mentor. May the Grand Mentor drink this wine and bestow his teaching.”

Only once the Crown Prince’s Grand Mentor drank this cup would the rite of apprenticeship be complete.

Yet the cup in her hands was long left untaken.

Zhao Yen held it aloft until her arm began to ache and her neck to stiffen. After some time, she at last heard Wenren Lin speak: “This prince receives the favor of His Majesty’s exaltation. A base and unworthy man gaining such empty honor is indeed shameful. I hope the Crown Prince will apply himself diligently, and not be ashamed to inquire humbly.”

Though words of exhortation, he spoke them with such extreme slowness, as though each single word must be broken into several sounds.

This fellow—he was deliberately stalling!

Though inwardly complaining, Zhao Yen still had to put on a look of receiving instruction, feigning earnestness: “This student will bear it firmly in mind.”

Her eyelashes trembled, and the wine cup she held high rippled with fine waves.

Only then did Wenren Lin condescend, lifting his hand to take the cup.

The pad of his finger brushed against her inadvertently, bringing a chill like cold jade. Whatever he did, once the cup entered his hand, the trembling ripples instantly calmed, becoming a pool of emerald mirror, reflecting his unfathomable smiling eyes.

Zhao Yen clenched her fingers, rubbing them lightly inside her sleeve.

Wenren Lin acted as though he had not noticed her small movement. He lifted the cup to his lips, first lightly inhaling its fragrance, then drank it all in one draught.

Raising his sleeve, he inverted the cup upon the desk, his posture incomparably elegant.

Zhao Yen gathered her sleeves and bowed once more; the rite was complete.

The most dangerous traitor within the palace had thus become the teacher who would accompany her day by day.

Zhao Yen only felt her own path ahead was like the wintry cold mist beyond the window—murky and unclear. She almost missed those carefree days in Huayang Palace.

Her elder brother’s death was forever a thorn lodged within her heart. Since she had chosen this road, then even if it were filled with thorns, even if her body were shattered to dust, she must walk it to clarity.

Composing herself, she saw the officiating official already bow and withdraw from Chongwen Hall. Afterward, two rows of attendants entered one after another, carrying braziers.

Zhao Yen looked closely—within more than ten braziers all burned frost-white, smokeless silver-charcoal, packed to every corner of the hall.

Beside Zhao Yen’s desk, two braziers had even been placed especially close with thoughtful care.

The attendants opened each window slightly for ventilation, then withdrew in perfect order, never making the slightest superfluous sound. The entire great hall swelled with warmth, baking one’s skin dry.

“Grand Mentor, these braziers… might they not be a bit too many?”

Zhao Yen murmured softly.

“Too many?”

Wenren Lin sat motionless, lifting his eyelids to glance at the little Crown Prince bundled tightly before him. “Yesterday the Crown Prince said the weather was cold and the body weak. This prince thus especially ordered more braziers prepared to dispel the chill, lest the Crown Prince again grow dizzy and faint, unable to put brush to paper.”

“……”

There was no need to go so far!

With so many braziers, she feared that before any essay was written, her body would already be roasted until smoke rose from her seven apertures!

Zhao Yen even suspected that Wenren Lin had done it on purpose.

Yet the man before her had a face as calm as still water, his words full of solicitude, as though he truly was only considering the frail Crown Prince.

Zhao Yen’s heart burned with fire, her nostrils stifled with hot dryness, her palms slick with sweat from clenching so tightly.

“The Crown Prince need not be nervous. Today I will not have you write policy essays.”

Wenren Lin seemed to have mistaken her hidden resentment, tapping the desk lightly with his finger. “Come sit here.”

His tone was not stern; on the contrary, it carried the gentleness of wind and rain. Yet Zhao Yen had already witnessed his methods.

She could only take small steps forward, bracing herself to sit opposite him at the desk.

So long as she did not have to write essays, anything else could be endured.

The braziers roasted on both sides. Zhao Yen, after all, was not truly a frail person. Wrapped in the heavy fox-fur robe, she only felt as though her whole body was set aflame, and she pressed together her parched lips.

Behind her, Li Fu lowered his head, tactfully handed his mistress a cup of warm tea, then pushed the window slits a little wider, smiling as he said: “His Highness the Crown Prince has an ailment of cough and asthma, best not be stifled.”

Zhao Yen secretly cast Li Fu a look of approval.

Yet this was no more than a cup of water upon a burning cart of firewood—the meager airflow through the crack in the window brought in hardly any coolness.

She resisted the impulse to throw off the fox-fur, disguising it as she lifted the tea to moisten her throat with small sips.

Wenren Lin lifted the yellow pearwood board from the desk; turning it over, it revealed a grid of intersecting lines—a chessboard.

Zhao Yen froze. “Will the Grand Mentor not continue explaining the Six Strategies?”

Wenren Lin brushed away a speck of dust from the board, speaking with nonchalance: “I hear the Crown Prince’s skill in chess is not bad. From whom did you learn?”

In the Imperial City, not even a fly’s entrance could escape Prince Su’s eyes. How could he not know who the late Crown Prince’s tutor in the art of chess was?

Could it be that he suspected her identity, and used this as an excuse to test her?

Fortunately, Zhao Yen had long since memorized her elder brother’s connections, and replied: “Several years ago, I was fortunate to receive two games’ instruction from the Left Chancellor. I only know a little superficiality.”

“Li Kexing’s chess skill is ranked among the finest in Great Xuan. To play against a disciple he taught is no disgrace.”

Wenren Lin inclined his head, flicked his sleeve, and made a gesture of invitation. “Then I invite Your Highness the Crown Prince to engage this prince in a game.”

“……”

The hot sweat down Zhao Yen’s back began to turn cold. She forced out against her conscience: “The section on Defending the Territory that Grand Mentor explained yesterday, I was most fond of, yet there remain several parts unclear. Perhaps it would be better for Grand Mentor to continue expounding?”

Wenren Lin casually picked up the Six Strategies and held it in his hand, while sliding the jade jar of chess pieces toward Zhao Yen. “A game of chess is like two armies clashing; its subtleties are no fewer than those of military strategy. Your Highness may ask questions freely—it will not delay this prince’s game.”

So lightly he had blocked her words.

The braziers burned fiercely; to use cold weather and weakness as excuse would no longer work.

Zhao Yen’s cheeks flushed hot, her parched throat swallowed, and she braced herself to pick up a white piece.

As for chess, she did know how to play.

Back at Huayang Palace, Zhou Ji had once taught her a few moves.

That pedantic Zhou fellow was the Left Chancellor Li Kexing’s prized disciple, one of the “Twin Jades of the Li School” that Liuying spoke of. His chess skill was naturally exquisite. Yet Zhao Yen was never one to sit quietly; all her little cleverness had been spent on scheming how to repent moves.

But now her identity was Crown Prince Zhao Yan, a youth of clear skies and bright moon. Naturally, she could no longer reveal her former habits.

Her first move fell on the star point, choosing a cautious opening.

Wenren Lin, holding a scroll in one hand as he read, did not even shift his gaze, and simply followed with his own move.

After several exchanges, Zhao Yen’s pace of play had clearly slowed, her face showing difficulty, fine beads of sweat welling upon the tip of her nose.

Wenren Lin, however, appeared completely at ease, even sparing the leisure to tease: “If the Crown Prince cannot yet perceive the trap, then you are about to lose.”

And at the end he lightly added: “How many moves has it been thus far?”

In a match, what is most feared is the assault upon the mind; when the heart is unsettled, the game is already lost.

All the more when the hall was burning with over ten braziers, the heat oppressive and stifling, steaming away her clarity of thought.

Li Fu wrung a kerchief to wipe her sweat, yet it was of no avail.

Only then did Wenren Lin lift his eyes from behind the scroll, unhurriedly casting his gaze upon her.

The little Crown Prince’s face was flushed, covered in a fine crystalline sheen of sweat, his breathing slightly quickened.

Wenren Lin could not help but recall a priceless piece of jade once gifted to him—ordinarily white as congealed fat, but once immersed in water it revealed a resplendent rose-red within.

It was remarkably like the little Crown Prince’s sweat-damp, rosy face at this moment.

Though long had it been rumored he bore the looks of both man and woman, was he not a bit too delicate and comely?

Wenren Lin propped his chin with the scroll, uttered a soft “Oh,” and said: “Why does the Crown Prince sweat as though pouring out?”

Feigning ignorance!

Zhao Yen’s lips were parched, her tongue dry; she could not utter a word.

Wenren Lin leisurely turned a page, betraying not the slightest trace of impatience at the heat. The black jade chess piece rolled idly between his finely formed fingers; on his handsome face there was only clarity and freshness, without a single drop of sweat, his entire person as if carved of icy jade.

Was he even human? Did he not feel the heat at all?

Just as she was inwardly complaining, she saw Wenren Lin, as if he had eyes upon his forehead, timely add: “The hall is warm. Why does Your Highness not remove the fox-fur and winter coat, lest you feel stifled?”

This man seemed upright and benevolent, yet even his five viscera were black, to come up with such a vicious trick.

To disrobe before others—would her identity still remain hidden?

Seeing Zhao Yen unmoving, Wenren Lin leaned forward.

“No matter. Since the Crown Prince is so delicate, this prince shall personally attend.”

With an air of reluctant courtesy, he extended his hand toward her.

His long fingers touched the knot of her fox-fur robe—Li Fu froze, and Zhao Yen also froze.

She instinctively dodged aside, but with too much force, nearly fell backward, barely catching herself with a hand upon the floor tiles to steady her body.

Their gazes met; Wenren Lin’s narrowed eyes darkened.

Zhao Yen simply seized the moment to feign weakness and exhaustion, hissing softly, swaying as she said: “Grand Mentor, do not blame me. This is but false sweat; I have lost my composure.”

Li Fu at once supported her, hastily echoing: “Exactly so! The Imperial Physician instructed that His Highness must not remove garments to be struck by wind—only by sweating it all out can he recover.”

Wenren Lin arched his brow. Whether or not he believed such nonsense was uncertain.

He withdrew his hand, watching coldly as Zhao Yen struggled to rise, and asked: “Then, has the Crown Prince thought of the countermove?”

“Gu is just thinking.”

Zhao Yen lowered her head, murmuring softly, her gaze wandering back and forth across the chessboard.

“Chancellor Li’s self-devised Swallowtail Formation can resolve this game.”

Wenren Lin rolled the chess piece between his fingers, his meaning hidden.

Zhao Yen had never even met this Left Chancellor—how could she possibly know any Swallowtail Formation!

Yet Wenren Lin’s eyes were fixed upon her. Whether she knew it or not, she had to make this move.

But once she did, might she not reveal a flaw?

Clutching the white piece, Zhao Yen only felt her very breath was aflame, her cheeks burning hot, as though her five viscera were about to combust. Even the chessboard before her swam and twisted in her vision.

Suddenly, her nostrils prickled with an itchy dampness, something uncontrollably flowing downward.

At her side, Li Fu’s eyes widened. Zhao Yen, bewildered, lifted her hand to touch, and saw crimson upon her fingertips.

It was from the excessive heat—fire rising within, and now a nosebleed!

Her lashes quivered, and immediately she rolled her eyes upward, swaying as she toppled forward.

Her forehead struck the chessboard with a loud, muffled thud. Black and white stones scattered at once, clattering down like droplets of water.

“Attend—! His Highness the Crown Prince is falling!”

Li Fu, quick of eye and hand, rushed to shield her, crying out in tragic alarm.

“……”

Wenren Lin looked upon the scattered chaos of the chessboard, his eyelids twitching.