“The Crown Prince’s sister, Princess Changfeng, would be quite suitable.”

Wenren Lin smiled faintly as he lowered his gaze to scrutinize her, carefully observing every subtle change in her expression.

However, Zhao Yān just stood there in bewilderment before gradually coming to her senses and slowly curving her eyes into a smile.

“My sister is certainly one of the finest in the world, but unfortunately, she’s not suitable for Prince Su.”

Speaking as Zhao Yǎn, she praised herself while her anxious, half-lowered eyes brightened. Looking up, she said gently, “If my Grand Tutor became my brother-in-law, wouldn’t that reduce his generational status? This would be improper according to ethical relationships.”

Wenren Lin’s smile faded slightly as his gaze swept over her, trying to detect any trace of panic or distress on her fair face.

But her eyes remained clear, reflecting his inscrutable countenance.

Wenren Lin wasn’t in any hurry. When it came to games of manipulating people’s hearts, he always had tremendous patience.

“That depends on whether Your Highness will give this prince the opportunity to lower his status,” he said.

He raised his hand to wipe away the crimson medicine that had stained the little Crown Prince’s collar before turning to leave.

…

…

The steady footsteps behind her gradually faded away. Only when she could no longer hear even the rustle of his robes in the cold wind did Zhao Yān dare to release her tightly clenched fists and exhale a breath of white mist.

Every meeting with Prince Su felt like a battle of deception and strategy. For a moment, Zhao Yān thought she would have to reveal her true identity—his penetrating eyes seemed to have already seen through everything.

If Wenren Lin had concrete evidence of her false identity, he would have taken direct action in the Taiji Palace earlier, rather than merely testing her with words. In other words, although he suspected the right person, he had no actual proof.

A person of his status couldn’t openly demand that the Crown Prince verify his identity—that would be a grave offense.

Wenren Lin wanted to see her panic and lose composure, but Zhao Yān refused to give him that satisfaction.

She knew that as long as she withstood his repeated tests and provocations, she would temporarily have no fear for her life.

Her secret remained securely wrapped beneath her thick clothing and chest bindings. Even she could only see her true form during those brief moments of bathing. Wenren Lin would have no opportunity to find concrete evidence.

Zhao Yān tightened her garments around her body, as if protecting her final armor, and composed herself before walking into the biting cold wind.

The winter’s chill still lingered in the air, but the sky was no longer gray and gloomy. Sunlight filtered through the milky clouds, bringing a touch of spring warmth.

Yet this warmth was merely a burden for Zhao Yān—she was still wrapped in the fox fur robes required for the Crown Prince, covered from head to toe.

If this had been when she first returned to the palace last year, she might have quietly complained about the heat. Now she just tightly pressed her lips together and endured it.

It had been half a month since Wenren Lin’s last attempt to test her. With classes resuming at Chongwen Palace today, she wondered what new trap he had set for her.

As she alighted from her palanquin at Changqing Gate, she noticed a tightly-dressed youth with a high ponytail waiting under the archway.

Zhao Yān recognized the youth’s back view but before she could inquire, Liu Ying thoughtfully explained, “The Empress feared Your Highness might be lonely and vulnerable, so she commanded the study companion to arrive early.”

Just as he finished speaking, Pei Sa caught sight of the frail-looking Crown Prince in the sunlight.

Zhao Yān had quite a favorable impression of him for speaking up on her behalf at the winter banquet and was about to greet him when Pei Sa reluctantly stepped forward and bowed: “This subject, Pei Sa, pays respects to Crown Prince.”

After speaking, he retreated to the side and remained silent for the rest of the journey, showing a coldness that sharply contrasted with his behavior at the banquet.

Zhao Yān glanced at his hard profile several times and couldn’t help asking, “Is the young master Pei in a bad mood?”

Pei Sa stopped in his tracks, his scarred eyebrow furrowing: “May I ask Your Highness, have I offended you in some way?”

The question bewildered Zhao Yān: “Young master spoke up for justice at the winter banquet, and I haven’t had the chance to express my gratitude. How could there be any talk of ‘offense’?”

“If not for that, why would you specifically choose me as your study companion?” Pei Sa’s brow furrowed even more tightly.

Zhao Yān blinked and signaled with her eyes: What’s going on?

They had arrived early, with two quarters of an hour before the appointed time, but there was already someone waiting in Chongwen Palace.

With a study companion by her side, Zhao Yān felt a bit more confident. She took a deep breath before the silhouette standing behind the screen and then entered the hall, clasping her sleeves: “Student pays respects to…”

The words caught in her throat as Zhao Yān looked in surprise at the elegant young man in scholar’s blue robes: “Why is it you?”

Zhou Ji had been concentrating on appreciating the authentic “Crane Calling” painting on the wall. Hearing her words, he turned around, his cold gaze lingering briefly on Zhao Yān’s face, a hint of confusion appearing.

But he had always been one to observe proper etiquette. He quickly averted his gaze and bowed: “This subject, Zhou Ji, temporarily assuming the position of Eastern Palace Instructional Scholar, pays respects to the Crown Prince.”

Zhao Yān naturally knew he would be the Crown Prince’s future instructor… but hadn’t the morning studies always been under the Grand Tutor’s guidance?

As long as she could stay far away from Wenren Lin, she was more than happy.

Zhao Yān was seeing Zhou Ji’s stone-cold face as adorable for the first time. The corners of her mouth twitched almost imperceptibly upward as she hurriedly said, “I’ve long admired Scholar Zhou’s reputation. Please, take a seat.”

Zhou Ji saw the eager anticipation in her eyes, as if she were longing for sweet rain, and felt something incongruous.

However, considering the Crown Prince’s reputation for virtue and gentle warmth toward everyone, he gradually accepted it.

He nodded slightly in acknowledgment before sweeping his robes aside to sit down, then asked, “As this is my first day in this position, I’m not familiar with the previous teaching progress. May I ask Your Highness what texts and chapters you’re currently studying?”

Since Grand Tutor Wen’s retirement, several Hanlin scholars had come to teach, but as they were all working in auxiliary capacities, their lessons were scattered and inconsistent, lacking any systematic approach.

Zhao Yān, whose interests lay elsewhere, casually mentioned a text she was familiar with: “Before the new year, we reached the second volume of ‘Essential Meanings of Spring and Autumn.'”

Zhou Ji indicated his understanding, and his refined fingers picked up a paperweight and smoothed it from left to right before he began his explanation.

His voice wasn’t as deep and mellow as Wenren Lin’s; it was clear and cool like water flowing over stones, without fluctuation.

Zhao Yān had once despised Zhou Ji’s teaching tone as boring as chanting sutras, but now she realized she had been ungrateful. At least this bookish scholar dedicated his life to scholarly pursuits, with undivided attention and straightforward integrity, entirely unlike Wenren Lin’s outward propriety and inner darkness, his dangerous cunning.

Pei Sa at the desk to the right looked astonished, staring at Zhou Ji’s empty desk, and couldn’t help asking: “Can he teach without referring to books?”

Zhao Yān, accustomed to Zhou Ji’s teaching methods, smiled and replied: “Zhou Wanlan has an excellent memory. He has thousands of volumes in his mind and can recite them backward.”

Pei Sa was filled with respect and held his book with a more dignified posture.

“…”

Now, Zhao Yān understood where his fierce words about “offense” had come from—the Marquis of Jinping’s heir was a pure warrior who could barely recognize a few characters.

To have such a young man sit properly in Chongwen Palace as a study companion—no wonder he had been so sullen and displeased.

Zhao Yān was hesitating whether to say something when a shadow crept up from behind, passing over her head and spreading across the desk until it completely enveloped her.

This familiar sensation…

Zhao Yān slowly turned around. The first thing to enter her vision was the hem of a dark robe, and looking higher, she saw Wenren Lin’s handsome face, showing no discernible emotion.

The inevitable had still arrived.

Zhao Yān quickly diverted her gaze, pretending to focus intently on her book, and heard Wenren Lin’s deep voice coming from above: “Chongwen Palace is quite lively today.”

Zhou Ji had been concentrating on his teaching and only realized Wenren Lin’s presence when he spoke, then raised his eyes to look at him.

Their eyes met, but Zhou Ji remained seated straight as a pine, showing not a trace of fear.

“Prince Su! Oh my, it’s all this old servant’s fault!”

The Chief Eunuch of Chongwen Palace broke the silence at the right moment, explaining, “Scholar Zhou is temporarily substituting for the Lesser Tutor, teaching the Crown Prince. His Majesty has allotted the Chen hour to Scholar Zhou, with martial arts lessons moved to the Si hour. This old servant was supposed to inform you personally, but you happened to enter the palace for an audience with the Emperor, so we missed each other.”

The Chief Eunuch wiped the fine, cold sweat from his forehead and smiled apologetically, “Would Your Highness consider resting in the rear hall for an hour? This old servant will brew you a hot cup of tea to make amends.”

Wenren Lin’s temper appeared excellent. His gaze lingered briefly on the little Crown Prince’s lowered head before he slightly raised his hand and said, “No matter. This prince will sit in and listen.”

With that, he walked to the round chair where the Empress usually sat to observe, and sat down with a flourish of his sleeves, resting his fingers against his temple to signal them to continue.

The Chief Eunuch naturally didn’t dare to dissuade him. Seeing that Zhou Ji did not object, he served tea and withdrew quietly.

Zhou Ji was indeed indifferent to anything beyond scholarly matters—one might even say he was somewhat slow in that regard. He merely nodded slightly to Wenren Lin in acknowledgment before continuing his explanation.

The hall seemed peaceful and harmonious, if one ignored the occasionally sweeping cool gaze.

Zhao Yān focused intently on the book before her, occasionally making notes with her brush. Her long eyelashes were half-lowered, giving her a somewhat feminine air.

Wenren Lin studied her serious, model student appearance. His pale hand with its clearly defined tendons rested casually on his knee, his index finger tapping rhythmically.

In another person’s class, she was so well-behaved.

Let alone having a fit and fainting, she didn’t even blink her eyes. How curious.

A low snort escaped him, faintly reaching Zhao Yān’s ears despite the distance between them.

She didn’t know what Wenren Lin was laughing at, but she felt a chill over half her body. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate, she couldn’t stop the passage of time.

The bells rang, and the hour of literary instruction quickly passed.

Zhou Ji calmly rose to return the bow, leaving Chongwen Palace to Prince Su, who also served as the Grand Tutor.

Wenren Lin uncrossed his long legs and was about to approach Zhao Yān when he saw her dart away, following Pei Sa to the distant corridor outside the hall for some fresh air.

Wenren Lin watched her retreating figure, not even looking back, paused for a moment, and slowly narrowed his eyes.

The wind chimes in the corridor tingled and swayed, and the sunlight was pale but comfortably warm.

Pei Sa leaned against the railing, arms crossed, chatting casually: “I never expected Scholar Zhou, despite his young age, to stand his ground against Prince Su without backing down at all. That’s truly the backbone of a scholar.”

Zhao Yān couldn’t help but laugh at his words.

Backbone—Zhou Ji certainly had that. People said Zhou Wanlan was like a flower on a high peak, difficult to reach in the mortal world, but only Zhao Yān knew that it was purely because he had a slight face blindness. To avoid the embarrassment of mistaking people, he simply kept silent and waited for others to introduce themselves.

Over time, this gave people the false impression that he was aloof and unapproachable.

Zhao Yān collected her thoughts and gazed woefully at the blue-gray undulating mountains in the distance beyond the imperial city, letting out a long sigh.

Pei Sa was indeed attracted by her sorrowful expression and turned to look at her.

“Prince Su’s upcoming lesson may be difficult,” Zhao Yān deliberately steered the conversation in her intended direction.

Pei Sa wasn’t concerned: “Horsemanship and archery are my strengths, and I also have some knowledge of chess and military strategy. Nothing too difficult.”

“Indeed, that’s why I specifically requested young master to be the Crown Prince’s study companion, to assist me,” she said.

Then, with a forlorn expression, she lowered her head and sighed, “It’s all my fault for being so weak that I cannot perform well in the Grand Tutor’s classes.”

Pei Sa was a straightforward person with a sense of justice. Hearing that the Crown Prince had specifically requested his assistance, his resistance and resentment dissipated by half.

Seeing the little Crown Prince’s dejected expression, he understood: “He bullies Your Highness?”

Zhao Yān only shook her head and smiled, displaying a good-natured demeanor that seemed to endure hardship without complaint.

A sense of responsibility welled up in Pei Sa’s heart, and he stated directly: “I understand. Although I don’t appreciate Your Highness’s weakness, I will fulfill my duty without hesitation.”

Zhao Yān showed gratitude on her face. After Pei Sa turned to enter the hall first, she turned to Liu Ying, who was waiting outside, and said: “Brew me a cup of the tea that Imperial Physician Zhang prepared.”

If she remembered correctly, today’s martial arts lesson would include horsemanship and archery.

What troubled Zhao Yān most was this particular course. Unlike military strategy or chess, which only required sitting down, the teaching inevitably involved physical contact, so it was better to take some precautions.

Frowning as she drank the bitter tea, Zhao Yān felt her pulse change before returning to the great hall with lighter steps.

Wenren Lin had not gone to the training ground behind Chongwen Palace.

The desks in the hall had been moved away to clear a space. Wenren Lin was staring at the chair Zhou Ji had sat in and drawled: “Get rid of this filthy thing for this prince.”

The Chief Eunuch, wiping cold sweat, bowed repeatedly and ordered a young eunuch to remove the chair and replace it with the one Wenren Lin had been sitting in.

Pei Sa, who had entered the hall earlier, now had sandbags tied to his waist and legs and was holding a cup of tea while standing in a horse stance in the corner, fine beads of sweat already forming on the tip of his nose.

“What happened?” Zhao Yān asked Li Fu in astonishment.

She had only gone to drink a cup of tea, and already her “ally” had ended up like this?

Li Fu answered in a low voice: “Apparently dissatisfied with Prince Su’s lesson content for today, young master Pei stood up for you and voluntarily offered to spar in your place. And then…”

Speaking, Li Fu shook his head: “Young master Pei’s martial skill is certainly outstanding among the younger generation, but his opponent was Prince Su. He lasted several dozen moves before being defeated. Prince Su said his lower body stance was unstable and needed more practice, so this is the result.”

Even so, Zhao Yān’s good impression of Pei Sa only increased.

Pei Sa had said he disliked the Crown Prince’s overly accommodating nature, but when it came to a critical moment, he still stood up for him. This loyalty to duty, regardless of personal likes and dislikes, was remarkably precious in a court where everyone was looking out for themselves.

Besides, Wenren Lin was someone who could subdue the rebel general He Hu with one hand—being able to last several dozen moves against him was honorable despite the defeat.

A hoarse, dragging sound interrupted Zhao Yān’s thoughts.

Wenren Lin raised his hand to grip the back of the chair, dragged it to a position by the window, and then sat down facing Zhao Yān, crossing his legs and smoothing his robe. The warm sunlight slanted through the window, half falling on his handsome profile, half trailing down along the hem of his robe and boots, like a strip of gold brocade.

This Wenren Lin looked peaceful and harmless, just as he did when she first saw him in the snow last year.

“Grand Tutor.” Zhao Yān bowed to him calmly, showing no panic or avoidance.

Wenren Lin looked up, his thick, long eyelashes also tinged with golden light.

“It seems Your Highness has figured out how to deal with this prince,” he said.

He smiled with amusement, gesturing for her to come closer.

Zhao Yān stepped forward as instructed, answering smoothly: “How could Grand Tutor say such a thing? I told you I would study diligently and never be negligent again.”

But Wenren Lin just smiled, his thumb slightly rubbing his iron finger ring.

Servants soon brought up the weapons needed for instruction—swords, spears, and everything else required.

“The spring chill is still sharp, and the training grounds are windy on all sides, easily allowing cold to enter the body. There’s no need to move. Today I’ll teach Your Highness some simple blocking techniques, so that you can defend yourself when faced with danger in the future. This is also His Majesty’s wish.”

Wenren Lin saw through Zhao Yān’s thoughts and rose to approach the weapons rack. His fingers touched each blade one by one. “Last time, Your Highness was fortunate—when you resisted, you only injured your skin. Next time, if you’re still so reckless…”

He glanced over, half his form cast in shadow, and raised his finger to lightly trace across the side of his neck.

The casual gesture sent a chill through Zhao Yān as the dangerous scenes from the ambush on the return journey from the suburban sacrifice flooded back into her mind.

She obediently reached out and accepted the light dagger Wenren Lin had selected for her.

The dagger was ice-cold, uncomfortable to hold in her hand.

Pei Sa was still squatting in the corner, the teacup in his hand now showing ripples. Wenren Lin seemed to have forgotten such a person existed and focused solely on teaching Zhao Yān, breaking down and explaining the movements.

Zhao Yān’s face showed she was “honored by the attention,” while inwardly she was grinding her teeth.

How kind of Prince Su to care for her so much that even in a class meant for two students, he devoted all his energy to her alone.

“When held at knifepoint from behind, never randomly shake your head or struggle,” Wenren Lin said.

With just one hand, he grasped Zhao Yān’s wrist that held the dagger and easily reversed it to place the blade against her own neck. “Your Highness’s movement just now was incorrect…”

Feeling the pulse through his fingertips, he paused subtly at the end of his sentence, seemingly thoughtful.

Zhao Yān knew it was the effect of the medicinal tea taking hold. Her lips curled slightly as she struggled and said, “Grand Tutor focuses only on teaching me while ignoring young master Pei. Isn’t that unfair?”

“Such struggling will only provoke the attacker. Instead, grip my arm like this, press down, and bend your other arm at the elbow, using all your strength to strike backward.”

Wenren Lin corrected her movements while calmly saying, “The Crown Prince’s Grand Tutor is naturally only responsible for the Crown Prince. This prince has always been devoted, unlike Your Highness, who is so…”

His deep voice came from behind her ear as he thought of an appropriate word: “…fickle.”

Who’s fickle!

Zhao Yān elbowed back, but Wenren Lin easily contained her strike.

“Not enough force. You’d lose the initiative,” he said.

Wenren Lin restrained her. “Since recovering from illness and shock, Your Highness has maintained a certain wariness with everyone and everything. Yet with that Zhou scholar, you show particular closeness and trust, as if you had known him for a long time.”

Zhao Yān’s eyelid twitched, but she played dumb: “Grand Tutor jests. With my chronic illness, even my study companion was hastily arranged. My social circle is sparse and lonely—how could I know Scholar Zhou? I merely admire his talent and integrity, nothing more.”

Wenren Lin made a sound of acknowledgment and nodded slightly: “He is talented and upright, while I am sinister and cunning, hence your eagerness to avoid me.”

So you’re aware of that?

Zhao Yān raised her hand to counterattack, but he seized her other hand as well, pinning both behind her back.

From beginning to end, Wenren Lin had only used his left hand, with his stronger right arm still held behind his back.

He gazed at her earlobe, which had reddened with annoyance and frustration, and the smile in his eyes deepened: “I hear Scholar Zhou once studied in Huayang. Perhaps he has seen Princess Changfeng.”

To outsiders, it appeared the Prince was diligently teaching her defensive moves, but only Zhao Yān knew the malicious scheming hidden beneath his righteous facade.

“Is that so? If that’s the case, when they have the opportunity to meet, Scholar Zhou would surely be the first to recognize Yan’er.”

The implication was clear—since Zhou Ji hadn’t recognized her, it proved she wasn’t his former acquaintance.

Zhao Yān countered: “Prince Su seems to take quite an interest in my sister.”

“Naturally,” Wenren Lin said.

He bent closer, deliberately saying, “This prince is looking forward to seeing Princess Changfeng’s beauty at the Hairpin Flower Banquet.”

“…”

Zhao Yān’s chest binding was tight, already making it difficult to breathe. Hearing this, she nearly blacked out.

The dagger fell to the ground with a clang. From Wenren Lin’s perspective, he could see her frail shoulders trembling, seemingly in extreme discomfort.

His gaze focused for a moment, falling on his empty palm—he hadn’t used much force.

“The same trick doesn’t work a third time,” he said.

He reached out to help Zhao Yān.

Just as his fingertips touched her clothing, he saw a cold flash before his eyes.

Wenren Lin’s eyes sharpened as his left hand lightly seized her wrist. He was about to mock her sneak attack as pathetically weak when he realized something was wrong.

She was only holding the scabbard in her hand, which meant the dagger could only be…

There was a rush of wind near his ear. Wenren Lin instinctively blocked Zhao Yān’s other hand with his right arm, tilting his head slightly as the blade grazed past his jaw, leaving a cold sensation of its edge.

Sunlight passed silently between the two frozen figures, illuminating the dust dancing in the air.

The wind stopped, and the fluttering fabric of their garments settled. The hall was so quiet that only two intertwined breaths could be heard—one rapid, one steady.

Wenren Lin quickly came to his senses.

She had feigned weakness and collapsed to disguise her preparation of the dagger and scabbard. This feint was executed masterfully, actually forcing him to use both hands to counter.

“Does Your Highness truly intend to kill your teacher?” he asked.

His eyes were lowered as he looked at the breathless youth before him, his dark pupils spreading like ink in deep darkness.

“How could your student dare?” she said.

Having used too much force, a strand of hair had come loose from Zhao Yān’s neatly bound topknot. Her cheeks were flushed as she panted heavily: “Deception in warfare—the Grand Tutor taught me well.”

Her voice was weak, her pulse irregular, but her eyes were bright.

As if to say: See, I told you I would learn well from the Grand Tutor.

Wenren Lin seemed to see her in a new light, studying her for a long time. That gaze seemed to want to strip away her layers of disguise, revealing her most authentic and pure inner self.

Being held by both wrists was uncomfortable. Zhao Yān’s heart pounded loudly. Seeing that he truly didn’t bring up the topics of “Huayang” or “Princess Changfeng” again, she discreetly tried to free her wrists.

Wenren Lin pretended not to see through her little trick and calmly released her hands.

The bell rang at the perfect moment. Zhao Yān coughed lightly a couple of times to avoid his gaze, bowed unsteadily to Wenren Lin in farewell, and then approached Pei Sa, who was still in his horse stance. She took the teacup he had been holding and asked: “Are you alright?”

For a full hour, not a drop of tea had spilled from the cup.

Pei Sa removed the sandbags from his waist and legs, raising his hand to press against the back of his neck. He twisted his stiff neck with a loud crack, his tone filled with intense dissatisfaction: “It’s nothing. Just practicing the basics.”

Before Wenren Lin could change his mind, Zhao Yān quickly led Pei Sa out of the hall.

Once inside the palanquin, returning to the Eastern Palace and with the heavy curtains drawn, Zhao Yān collapsed into the pile of embroidered cushions, too exhausted to say another word.

Thank the heavens—today was another day of preserving her life.

Chongwen Palace.

Wenren Lin raised his right arm. The fabric of his tightly-bound martial sleeve had been cut, leaving a neat small opening.

This had happened during the Crown Prince’s sneak attack when he raised his arm to block. Although it was just an extremely fine and shallow tear, Zhang Cang, who had observed everything, couldn’t help but feel his temples throbbing.

Apart from the battlefield swarming with enemy troops, he had never seen anyone get so close to the Prince.

How dangerous that dagger was! If the Prince hadn’t been battle-hardened and modified his technique in time, the dagger might have cut the Prince’s face!

To be fair, the Prince was unpredictable in temper, his methods not particularly honorable, and his reputation… well, enough to stop children from crying at night…

His only outstanding quality was his handsome face. If he lost even that last advantage, how would he ever find a wife?

With the Hairpin Flower Banquet approaching, Zhang Cang had been hoping the Prince would find a gentle, caring woman to accompany him. He couldn’t afford to have his face scarred at this critical time.

Compared to Zhang Cang’s convoluted thoughts, Wenren Lin was much calmer.

“Any news from Huayang?” he asked.

Zhang Cang suddenly remembered the important matter and answered: “We received Cai Tian’s carrier pigeon message. As you instructed, he had an audience with the Empress Dowager, with Princess Changfeng in attendance. Nothing unusual was observed.”

Wenren Lin slightly lowered his eyes: “Are you certain it was the little Princess herself?”

Zhang Cang said, “Cai Tian will continue to stay undercover at the palace for some time, observing whether there are any changes.”

Wenren Lin raised his finger to stroke the tiny tear, suddenly chuckling softly.

Whenever he started to feel bored, the little Crown Prince always managed to spark new interest. Very well, he would see how long this play in the Eastern Palace could continue.

He wondered what frightened, trembling expression she would show on the day she could no longer hide.

He was truly looking forward to it.

The early spring breeze blew through the hall, clouds obscured the sun, casting a large shadow over the imperial city.

The Awakening of Insects—humid rain enveloped the capital.

Rolling thunder, Prince Yong’s private residence shrouded in gloom.

The gauze curtains billowed, revealing a snake-like writhing figure inside. Moans mingled with the sound of rain, impossible to distinguish between pain and pleasure.

Zhao Yuan’yu watched with a dry mouth, but this burning sensation stopped at his chest—below that, there was no reaction at all.

Inside the curtain was the most seductive woman he had bought, who had become like this after taking just a drop of that drug, her mind completely befuddled.

“This drug—you’re sure it works for both men and women?” he asked, tugging at his collar.

The scantily clad female Daoist priest clung to him like a boneless creature, smiling seductively: “Don’t worry, Young Master. The elixir personally prepared by the Master can revitalize even a eunuch…”

As she spoke, she realized she had touched on Zhao Yuan’yu’s painful spot, and her face paled.

But at the moment, Zhao Yuan’yu didn’t care about such things.

He was quite satisfied with the drug’s potency. The twisted pleasure of destroying the Crown Prince’s virtuous reputation overshadowed the pain of his hidden ailment.

Zhao Yuan’yu calculated carefully, barely able to contain his excitement: “This alone is not enough. We need to add another crime to make him fall beyond redemption.”

The female Daoist priest smiled ingratiatingly and raising her cup in a toast, said: “On behalf of the Master, I wish the Young Master a meteoric rise to unlimited glory.”

Zhao Yuan’yu burst into loud laughter, pulling the female Daoist into his arms. The purple-white lightning illuminated his sinister face, making it look distorted.

After several spring rains, the capital was completely refreshed.

The heavy blue-gray gradually became hidden among peach blossoms and willow greens. Kites filled the sky, flowers bloomed everywhere on the ground, bees and butterflies hovered around, creating a scene full of vitality.

With the release of the imperial examination results, the most unhappy person was Liu Ji.

“If not for the disasters that befell the Eastern Palace, this year’s imperial examination would have…”

She didn’t finish her sentence about the examination.

But Zhao Yān understood her unspoken words: If not for last year’s series of calamities, those who passed the examination might have been talented young men like Shen Jingming and Cheng Jixing…

The Eastern Palace wouldn’t be so isolated and powerless, still without followers to this day.

Zhao Yān looked at the roster submitted by the Ministry of Rites and felt a massive headache. What a mess of people! All having connections with various court factions, not a single clean, usable person among them.

And with the Emperor in seclusion for self-cultivation, unable to attend to the Hairpin Flower Banquet, this heavy responsibility fell on the Eastern Palace.

As night approached, Zhao Yān was still busy reviewing the banquet procedures. The table was piled high with memorials regarding various departments recommending official positions for the examination graduates, which she hadn’t had time to review.

Liu Ying came in to light the lamps and, seeing the young figure with furrowed brows behind the memorials, advised: “Your Highness must attend the banquet tomorrow. You should rest early.”

“That’s right,” Liu Ji said.

Dipping her finger in wine, she idly drew a turtle on the table. “You have no real power now, and the Emperor wouldn’t truly entrust appointment and dismissal matters to you. Just stamp those memorials with a ‘Reviewed’ seal and be done with it. There’s no need to rush.”

“It’s not just the memorials troubling me,” Zhao Yān said.

She raised her delicate hand and gently covered the cinnabar mole at the corner of her eye.

For some reason, since afternoon, this eyelid had been twitching non-stop, making her feel anxious and irritable.

Spring winds filled the city, but Prince Su’s mansion seemed to have been forgotten by the gods.

While the capital was ablaze with competing blossoms, here only pine and cypress stood tall, with no trace of peach pink or apricot red.

Cai Tian had returned from Huayang Palace several days ago but had not even seen the Prince. Counting the days, it was almost time for the illness to flare up.

During such times, the Prince was always in a bad mood and refused to see anyone.

Looking at the tightly closed doors of the study, he asked: “On which day did the Prince take last month’s medicine?”

Zhang Cang thought for a long time before answering: “The Prince said he wanted to test the limits of his body, so he waited until the seventh day before taking the medicine.”

Cai Tian nodded.

Today was only the second day of the month, so it would be a few more days before that time came.

“The attacks are coming later each month. Perhaps one day he won’t need to take medicine at all. That would be a good thing,” Zhang Cang was mumbling when the door to the study opened from within.

Wenren Lin, apart from being slightly paler than usual, showed no other signs of distress.

“Prepare the carriage. We’re going to the palace,” he said.

In the twilight, his figure remained tall and straight, his steps unhurried, as if nothing in the world could make him pause or bow.