Everyone in the hall displayed varying expressions as they silently performed their courtesies.

Wenren Lin settled into his seat after adjusting his immaculate robes, then cast a smiling glance toward Zhao Yān: “Your Highness, you should have them begin the lecture.”

Hadn’t he said he “had no interest in verbal sparring with sour scholars”? Why had he come to audit today?

Zhao Yān gave him a strange look, then regained her composure and sat upright, nodding to the Imperial Censor to indicate: “Censor Chen, you may begin.”

“Yes, yes.” Chen Lun, the Chief Imperial Censor presiding over the lecture, nervously opened his teaching materials.

A mild autumn breeze crept into the hall, causing the pages to rustle loudly. Chen Lun had to use a ruler to hold down his notes before clearing his throat to begin.

Today, Chen Lun was lecturing on “Essential Principles of Court Governance,” which included the statement: “The ancestral laws must not be changed. If everyone adheres to them strictly, court discipline will remain rigorous, and no rebellious officials will overstep their bounds.”

Since the end of last year, the former Chief Imperial Censor Liu Zong, who had been affiliated with Prince Yong’s faction, was executed by Wenren Lin for slandering the Eastern Palace and recklessly discussing the capital relocation. Left Chancellor Li Kexing had then promoted Chen Lun to fill the vacant position. Thus, the lecture he delivered today also represented the “conservative” viewpoint of Left Chancellor Li Kexing’s faction.

This normally wouldn’t be an issue, as the Imperial Lectures were always a stage where political theories merged with historical classics.

However, today’s audience included Prince Su Wenren Lin, the Great Xuan’s most influential official. Many people lowered their gazes, their expressions becoming somewhat ambiguous.

…

…

Zhao Yān secretly glanced at Wenren Lin from the corner of her eye. He remained seated with a finger pressed against his temple, completely composed, showing no particular emotion.

Just as Chen Lun turned a page, preparing to continue his lecture, Wenren Lin tapped his knuckles resting on his knee and finally spoke.

“These laws that Censor Chen speaks of—whom do they serve?”

His voice was deep and pleasant, yet it inexplicably sent a chill down Chen Lun’s spine, who immediately responded with caution: “They serve the sovereign, officials, and common people, of course.”

Wenren Lin’s lips moved slightly as he calmly raised his eyes: “Summer clothing does not protect against winter’s cold, and the rituals of our ancestors may not necessarily suit people today. If that is so, why shouldn’t laws change with the people?”

This statement caused an uproar throughout the hall.

Although attendees at Imperial Lectures had the right to raise questions at any time, Prince Su was second only to one person in the empire and was the sharpest blade at the Emperor’s side. When he questioned the validity of ancestral rituals, it carried entirely different implications.

Was this His Majesty’s intention? After all, the current Emperor sought immortality through Taoism, which was not within the bounds of traditional ritual.

A month ago, when the Star-Picking Observatory collapsed and the elderly Imperial Censor He Yi impeached the Taoist priests for bringing chaos and accused the Ministry of Works of corruption, the Emperor had him flogged in court, completely disregarding proper ritual and human sentiment…

Chen Lun now felt as if he were sitting on a hot griddle, afraid that one wrong answer would result in the same fate of being punished with a beating.

“The original purpose of law was to guide people toward goodness. As long as everyone adheres to rituals and laws, they will continue toward goodness—why should there be any need for change?”

“Continue toward goodness? Last year, during the Sichuan rebellion, when enemy troops approached the city gates, could your ancestral rituals and laws save the country?”

“This…” Chen Lun’s face flushed red, momentarily speechless.

Wenren Lin let out a very light, scornful laugh: “During Imperial Lectures, stop teaching things that are rigid, inflexible, and unwilling to adapt.”

The audience exchanged glances, uncertain of Wenren Lin’s deeper meaning.

Liu Baiwei, seated on the other side, was also surprised and quietly leaned over to whisper in Zhao Yān’s ear: “Why has he suddenly clashed with the Left Chancellor’s people? Though it is quite satisfying…”

Just as she finished speaking, Wenren Lin’s gaze swept over them, and he said coolly: “The young nobleman from Yingchuan is whispering and sitting improperly. Court Historian, record this.”

The Court Historian standing nearby immediately began writing furiously, recording in the register: “On the sixteenth day of the eighth month, at the third quarter of the shen hour, the young nobleman from Yingchuan demonstrated improper sitting posture during the Imperial Lecture.”

Liu Baiwei was too intimidated to voice his anger, but straightened his posture in indignation.

Zhao Yān didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as her gaze met Wenren Lin’s profound eyes, causing a surge of emotions.

She understood why Wenren Lin said these things and knew for whom he was speaking.

After today’s Imperial Lecture concluded, the officials had no mood for discussion or evaluation and dispersed early.

Soon, only Zhao Yān and Wenren Lin remained in the Chongwen Hall, quiet and peaceful, just like during their usual lessons.

He hadn’t left, remaining seated with lowered eyes, savoring the cup of tea in his hand.

Zhao Yān thought for a moment, then rose and sat beside him, softly saying: “Thank you, Grand Tutor.”

Wenren Lin held his teacup, glancing at her impassively: “What are you thanking me for?”

“The Grand Tutor questioned Li Chancellor’s people about their inflexibility, which was supporting the Eastern Palace’s new policies.”

Zhao Yān shifted her knees and leaned forward, saying, “That night outside Ziyun Pavilion, I questioned Zhou Wanlan’s ‘revenue generation policy’ on behalf of my brother, saying it was too conservative and not truly beneficial to the people. You heard it, didn’t you?”

Wenren Lin nodded: “Your Highness isn’t completely foolish.”

“I was never foolish.”

Zhao Yān pursed her lips and refuted quietly, then couldn’t help asking, “Isn’t the Grand Tutor afraid that court officials will overthink this?”

“If they want to speculate, let them make wild guesses.”

Wenren Lin caressed the rim of his cup, saying slowly, “From now on, Your Highness can say whatever you wish to them without concern.”

Zhao Yān’s eyes brightened, and she smiled: “Really?”

Wenren Lin studied her, his voice casual and deep: “I will cover for Your Highness in all matters.”

The cool autumn breeze slipped through the window, stirring the loose strands of hair behind Zhao Yān’s ears, causing one strand to stick to her slightly parted lips, which had parted in surprise.

Since returning to the palace, everyone had warned her to be cautious with her words and actions—this couldn’t be done, that shouldn’t be done. Wenren Lin was the only person who told her to do whatever she wanted.

She had no time to discern whether his words were true or false; she only knew that in that moment, her thoughts surged like the tide, gently washing over her heart.

If Zhou Ji represented constraint, teaching her self-discipline and responsibility, then Wenren Lin represented indulgence, teaching her how to grow stronger and protect herself.

She didn’t know when it had begun, but it was only in front of Wenren Lin that she revealed the side that belonged to “Zhao Yān.”

Perhaps the wind was naturally resistant to constraint.

Wenren Lin set down his cup and casually removed the strand of hair from her lips, asking, “Are you hungry?”

The man’s fingertip made the briefest contact before withdrawing, without crossing any boundaries.

Zhao Yān nodded honestly. They had sat through the Imperial Lecture for two hours with nothing but tea to drink, and she was indeed feeling quite empty.

Wenren Lin signaled to the eunuch standing outside the hall: “It’s still early; let’s go to the rear hall for some food.”

“What shall we eat?” Zhao Yān asked.

Wenren Lin looked at her, a smile appearing at the corners of his lips: “Cherry pastry mountains.”

Zhao Yān trembled and raised her eyes in annoyance, only to see Wenren Lin shaking his head slightly as if having achieved his goal: “No, Your Highness doesn’t like sweets. Let’s have peanut sour yogurt instead; one of the imperial chefs makes it quite well.”

“Can you stop breaking off your sentences at the wrong places?”

Zhao Yān protested softly, but in the end, she couldn’t resist the temptation of sour yogurt.

She sniffed, took hold of the arm Wenren Lin offered, and used it to stand up. Then, completely naturally, she went with him to secretly enjoy some food.

……

After several autumn rains, the dense shade on the palace walls had quickly faded to a light withered yellow, and when the wind blew, it carried a rather chilly meaning.

The Imperial Lecture officials, who had been wearing summer clothes and lecturing with sweat-drenched heads just a few days ago, were now dressed in heavy autumn attire.

“I’ve been thinking, building academies across the Great Xuan would be extremely costly, and I truly cannot afford it right now. However, I could expand the Mingde Academy, increase the stipends, attract talented scholars, and develop our intellectual tradition.”

Zhao Yān alighted from her sedan chair and walked through the Changqing Gate with Liu Baiwei following, chatting casually: “I had Li Fu clear out the Eastern Palace’s treasury, and with the gold and silver from Huayang, apart from the gifts from Father Emperor which cannot be touched, selling the rest could sustain us for two years. As for what happens after two years… we’ll see then.”

Liu Baiwei nodded: “I’m not financially comfortable at the moment. But within a year, I’ll have enough to defeat the old witch at the Prince’s mansion. Just wait, in the future I’ll provide financial support for Your Highness.”

The “old witch” referred to the Yingchuan heir’s wife, the vicious woman who had attempted to discard the mother and keep the child, driving Liu Baiwei’s birth mother to death.

The Yingchuan Prince was elderly and frail, with major decisions about his estate likely to be made within the year. Liu Baiwei was currently competing with the heir’s wife for control of the Prince’s mansion.

Zhao Yān understood his difficulties and shook her head: “I don’t want your money.”

Liu Baiwei immediately looked hurt: “You don’t want your cousin’s money either?”

Zhao Yān burst into laughter: “It’s not that—I can’t accept it. This is my affair. If you truly want to help me, find me a reliable channel through which I can sell some items without arousing suspicion.”

“Very well.”

Liu Baiwei set aside his disappointment and agreed: “I have trustworthy connections; leave it to me.”

“Also, I want to appoint some like-minded scholars as professors for the Mingde Academy. Do you have any recommendations?”

“Since Shen Jingming and Cheng Jixing died in successive accidents last year, the Linjiang Master was so grief-stricken that he coughed blood and passed away within a few months. However, he had a disciple who carried on his legacy, still writing books and traveling to study, quite renowned.”

Liu Baiwei pondered: “I’ve met that senior fellow student; he agrees with us. But he’s too proudly aloof, accustomed to being a free spirit, and may be unwilling to accept constraints. I’ll try to persuade him to come out of seclusion for Your Highness.”

“Good. When the time comes, I’ll personally write him a letter. If he values friendship, I’ll appeal to his emotions…”

As they were talking, a commotion suddenly erupted from the front hall.

“What’s happening?” Zhao Yān asked.

Li Fu went to investigate and returned shortly to report: “Your Highness, something has happened to Editor Xu. It’s said he submitted a highly treasonous poem that angered His Majesty, and now he’s kneeling outside the Taiji Hall awaiting judgment.”

“Xu Maojun?”

Zhao Yān and Liu Baiwei exchanged glances, knowing that the trap they had laid a few days ago was working.

“‘Riding the wind to crush the five sacred mountains, treading on waves to slay the flood dragon’… what’s wrong with this verse? Doesn’t it just mean praying to heaven to quell the flood disaster?”

“What do you know? The collapse of the Star-Picking Observatory confirms ‘crushing the five sacred mountains,’ while ‘slaying the flood dragon’ implies that the flood disaster was caused by an evil dragon…”

The official explaining stopped at the appropriate moment and shook his head: “At this critical juncture, it’s hard for His Majesty not to overthink it.”

“Tsk, when Master Yang explains it that way, it does seem…”

The person who had asked sighed, “Now the Xu family’s official career is finished… Crown Prince!”

“Crown Prince.”

Seeing Zhao Yān enter the hall, the gathered officials fell silent and made way.

Zhao Yān walked through the crowd and stopped before the curtain, only to hear a delicate female voice coming from the east chamber, carrying a cold edge: “Fourth Princess, come with me to see His Majesty immediately—”

“It’s Consort Xu barging in,” Li Fu explained from the side. “She’s now carrying a royal heir, so no one dares to stop her.”

Pei Sa, who had only been released from confinement today and had just arrived at the Chongwen Hall, clenched his fists and stepped forward upon witnessing this.

Zhao Yān stopped him, saying calmly: “If you truly want to help her, you should let her stand up for herself.”

After a long while, a faint but steady response came from the east chamber: “I did nothing wrong.”

“What did you say?” Consort Xu’s voice suddenly became sharp. “Fourth Princess, think carefully—he is your future husband!”

“I did nothing wrong.”

This time, Princess Zhao’s voice was a bit louder, with a slight tremor: “I casually… left it on the desk, and he took it without permission for his use. Why should it be my fault? I don’t want to be controlled by others anymore…”

“Took? What did he take from you?!”

Consort Xu lowered her voice: “I’m going to His Majesty immediately—”

With that, Consort Xu angrily lifted the gauze curtain, her beautiful and alluring face showing a hint of ferocity and discomposure that was hard to conceal.

Upon encountering Zhao Yān and the others, Consort Xu pretended to be elegant, adjusting her hair and forcing a smile as she bowed, then left without looking back.

Only then did Zhao Yān lift the curtain and enter. Princess Zhao sat blankly behind the desk, her tears wetting the scroll in front of her, causing the ink to blur into dark stains.

Below the steps of the Taiji Hall, Wenren Lin coldly observed Xu Maojun being held down by the imperial guards.

Princess Zhao had always been weak; she couldn’t possibly have such methods.

Recalling the scene of Zhao Yān leaving Princess Zhao’s east chamber on the day of the Imperial Lecture, he suddenly understood.

So it was the little Crown Prince’s intention.

Wenren Lin smiled faintly and raised his hand, gesturing: “Twenty strokes, then question him after the beating.”

He had promised that no matter what she wanted to say or do, he would cover for her in all matters.