From the first day she entered the Eastern Palace, suspicion hung heavily in the air.

Zhao Yān was well aware that Mother Empress had destroyed all the Imperial Physicians’ records and refused to mention the details of the Crown Prince’s death, so that she could peacefully sit in the Eastern Palace and play the role of the Crown Prince’s substitute.

She had never truly believed that her brother had simply died from a relapse of his old illness.

Unable to extract information from Liu Ying, Zhao Yān could only find her methods to search for clues.

Liu Ying added tea, removed the golden hook holding the bed curtains, and then led the palace maids in a curtsy before withdrawing.

After the door closed, Zhao Yān put down her book, lifted the bed curtains, put on her clothes, and got out of bed. Her bare feet stepped onto the soft Persian carpet as she walked to the hidden bookcase in the inner chamber.

The Eastern Palace contained numerous books. She had already searched the study and the Chongjiao Tower but found no trace of documents left by the Crown Prince.

It was precisely this absence of anything that seemed suspicious, as if someone had deliberately cleaned everything out.

This was the last place to look. These books and paintings were hidden in the highly private bedchamber, surely items that her brother treasured greatly.

Zhao Yān began carefully searching by the dim candlelight.

…

…

A neatly folded thin paper fell from a book. Zhao Yān quickly crouched to pick it up and found it was a design sketch.

On it was drawn the gold hairpin she had received on her fifteenth birthday.

The drawing was very detailed, with four or five different patterns of flowers, birds, and auspicious clouds designed just for the decorative elements.

Zhao Yān gently traced the neat characters reading “Birthday Gift for Yān’er” at the top of the drawing. The yellowish candlelight fell on her face, her eyelashes casting long shadows, outlining unspoken sorrow.

She could almost imagine her frail brother sitting here on countless lamp-lit nights, suppressing his cough while repeatedly revising the drawing with his vermilion brush.

Under the lamplight, he must have had gentle features, full of expectation.

Zhao Yān rubbed her eyes, carefully folded the drawing, and gently tucked it into her bosom.

She took a deep breath to compose herself and searched through everything several more times, but found nothing else.

As she was pushing the books back onto the shelf one by one, she noticed something unusual.

The wooden board at the bottom row was slightly loose. When she tapped it with her knuckles, it sounded hollow.

While at the Huayang Temporary Palace, Zhao Yān had once accidentally discovered the builder’s blueprints. Following the annotations on the drawings, she had found several hidden rooms for concealing antiques and treasures, some with secret mechanisms.

She pressed hard and indeed discovered a hidden compartment about one chi long and six cun wide.

Zhao Yān instantly became wide awake. She carefully placed the lamp on the ground, sat down, and eagerly opened the book.

In a moment, the light in her eyes dimmed again.

What the hidden compartment contained was not some secret document, but a copy of the Jin Dynasty’s “Ancient and Modern Notes.” On its title page was a dark red private seal reading “Shen Jingming.”

Since the book itself was not precious, what was valuable could only be Shen Jingming, who had gifted the book to her brother.

There was also a piece of paper tucked in the book with the words “Extinguishing the Lamp” written in a forceful hand. The handwriting was elegant and was not her brother Zhao Yǎn’s.

After pondering for a long time without finding any clues, she hurriedly put everything back in place, rushing to return to her bed before Liu Ying came for the night check, wrapping her slender form tightly in the bedding.

The sound of the water clock dripped on, emphasizing the tomb-like silence of the Eastern Palace.

The next day at lessons, Zhao Yān encountered another problem.

While the late Crown Prince’s demeanor and mannerisms could be imitated, his scholarship and writing were difficult to replicate.

The snow in the imperial city was melting, with water droplets rolling off the eaves, reflecting dazzling light in the sunshine.

In the Chongwen Hall, the young Crown Prince stood with lowered eyelids.

“I apologize, Teacher.”

The young boy showed a guilty expression. His figure was slender, and even his speech was soft and gentle.

Remembering his frail health, Grand Tutor Wen could not help but soften: “It is this old subject who has been inconsiderate. Your Highness is weak and should be granted a few days of leniency. If you cannot write the essay…”

“It’s not that I cannot write it, but that I don’t understand,” Zhao Yān said softly.

Hearing that his student had doubts, Grand Tutor Wen immediately sat up straight: “What does Your Highness not understand?”

Yesterday, Grand Tutor Wen had assigned an essay on “The Doctrine of the Mean.” Zhao Yān had looked through it for half the night at the Eastern Palace, her eyebrows knotted in confusion.

She had left the palace at nine years old, and the Empress Dowager had a bland temperament, keeping company with Buddha lamps and ancient scriptures, not paying much attention to trivial matters. She had only arranged for a scholar from the famous Zhou family of Luoyang to regularly teach her granddaughter, then let matters be.

How could Zhao Yān be content to sit quietly and study? Finding herself without constraints, she was like an unbridled young horse, spending most of her energy on observing mountains, playing in waters, and finding joy amid hardship.

Thus, while she had read many miscellaneous books and popular stories, she had rarely touched the Four Books and Five Classics. Whenever she heard those grand theories about self-discipline, public service, preserving principle, and eliminating desire, her head would ache.

Not to mention having to write thousand-character essays for self-reflection.

She extended her slender white index finger, pointing to a line of characters in the book: “The book says that the first step of ‘the Way of the Mean’ is for the gentleman to be cautious when alone—even when alone, one must hide one’s emotions. When happy, one cannot laugh loudly; when sad, one cannot cry bitterly. One must be cautious in everything and never exceed the bounds.”

Grand Tutor Wen held his teacup, nodding in agreement.

Zhao Yān frowned slightly, showing a troubled expression.

Grand Tutor Wen encouraged her: “Your Highness may speak freely.”

“Then I shall speak directly.”

The shy young Crown Prince’s eyes, somewhat feminine, brightened like a clear mirror: “Joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness are human nature. Without the seven emotions and six desires, a person would be no different from a wooden puppet. The book’s strict requirements—aren’t they asking us to suppress our humanity? Therefore, I believe this does not conform to the way of nature.”

Grand Tutor Wen nearly choked on his tea.

Upon returning to the palace after lessons, Zhao Yān was, unsurprisingly, greeted by Liu Ying’s solemn and rigid face.

Knowing that she was about to be admonished on behalf of Mother Empress, Zhao Yān removed her heavy, stifling white fox fur cloak and sighed: “You know I cannot write the essay Grand Tutor Wen wants. Forcing myself to write would only expose us. Why not find someone to ghostwrite for me?”

“Impossible!” Liu Ying immediately rejected the idea.

Princess Changfeng impersonating the Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace was a secret operation managed solely by the Empress. The slightest mistake would result in death and national calamity. Each additional person who knew increased the danger—how could they find someone to ghostwrite?

Moreover, the Crown Prince had been guided by eminent scholars from a young age and was proficient in literary arts. How could anyone easily imitate his writing style?

Liu Ying bit her lower lip, but when she looked up, she met a pair of smiling, beautiful eyes. The tear-shaped mole applied to match the Crown Prince was strikingly beautiful, showing no sign of frailty.

She knew then that Zhao Yān was teasing her.

For a moment, she was lost in thought.

It seemed that a long time ago, someone else also liked to tease her this way.

Zhao Yān habitually rested her chin on her hand: “I can’t write the essay, but if I just sit there silently without speaking, I’ll also give myself away. Better to throw out a few questions and let Grand Tutor Wen ponder them himself.”

Liu Ying’s expression softened slightly. What her mistress said made sense.

“What about Mother Empress? What shall we tell her?” Zhao Yān asked, taking advantage of Liu Ying’s moment of thought.

Liu Ying lifted a corner of the carriage curtain, saw that the Eastern Palace guards and attendants were following far behind the carriage with no outsiders nearby, and finally said softly: “Regarding the matter of the Eastern Palace’s three teachers, the Empress can hardly intervene. However, selecting a trustworthy study companion shouldn’t be difficult. That way, Your Highness will have someone to look after you at the Chongwen Hall.”

As a palace maid, Liu Ying did not qualify to enter the Chongwen Hall to serve and could only wait outside the door each time, which was indeed inconvenient.

It would be reassuring to have someone of their own by her side, Zhao Yān thought.

Fortunately, the first day of next month would be the Winter Festival, with customary sacrifices and banquets at the palace. She remembered that every year at this time, the sons and heirs of various noble houses would enter the palace to attend the feast.

Perhaps this would be an opportunity to find someone.

The “Ancient and Modern Notes” hidden in the secret compartment flashed in her mind. Zhao Yān’s eyes moved slightly, and she asked casually: “Today, Grand Tutor Wen mentioned someone called Shen Jingming who is quite good. Who is he?”

Hearing this name, Liu Ying paused imperceptibly.

Zhao Yān caught this slight emotional reaction, knowing she had guessed correctly.

This person indeed had connections to the Eastern Palace.

Liu Ying seemed to hesitate whether to speak, and after a long while, finally said: “Shen Jingming is the son of the former Vice Minister of Personnel. He is one of Left Chancellor Li’s favorite disciples, paired with Zhou Ji, descendant of the famous Luoyang family, as the ‘Twin Treasures of Li’s Gate.'”

Upon hearing the name “Zhou Ji,” Zhao Yān’s temple twitched, and unpleasant memories of studying at the Huayang Temporary Palace flooded her mind.

Raising her hand to dispel these thoughts, Zhao Yān returned to the main topic: “I recall that Mother Empress has people in the Ministry of Personnel. What if we make Shen Jingming the Eastern Palace study companion?”

Liu Ying seemed about to speak but stopped.

“What? Is he not trustworthy?”

“It’s not a matter of trustworthiness.”

Liu Ying’s voice lowered, “But this young Master Shen has already passed away.”

“Dead?”

Zhao Yān was surprised. “When did this happen?”

Liu Ying said, “On the night of the Qixi Festival, while viewing lanterns, he drowned.”

Dying one month before her brother’s death—what a coincidence!

The clue had hardly begun before it was cut off. Zhao Yān couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

Liu Ying glimpsed her mistress’s expression and knew that inappropriate thoughts had formed in her mind. After pursing her lips for a moment, she advised in a low voice: “The Crown Prince died of illness. Your Highness needs only to fulfill your duty properly. Please do not bring fire upon yourself.”

Died of illness…

Zhao Yān scoffed lightly.

“You and Mother Empress need not be so tense. The Eastern Palace has neither power nor influence, and doesn’t even have a usable advisor now. It would not be wise to strike a stone with an egg.”

Zhao Yān turned her fair, delicate face away, her eyes clear as she said, “I know my place.”

She was making calculations in her mind, unaware that the Chongwen Hall was already in another state of gloom.

The over-seventy-year-old Grand Tutor of the Crown Prince sat hunched behind his desk, his crystal magnifier lying flat on the table, pressing down a plain white silk paper.

The Chief Eunuch personally added hot tea, and seeing that he had sat motionless for half the day, smiled and asked: “What is Grand Tutor Wen looking at?”

The old man seemed to come back to himself, stroking his beard and raising his chin: “His Highness’s essay.”

The Crown Prince’s essay?

The Chief Eunuch looked confused—wasn’t this silk paper blank? There wasn’t a single character on it!

Grand Tutor Wen did not explain. It was precisely this absence of writing that showed its brilliance!

He had guided three generations of heirs in his lifetime, had countless disciples, and had lectured on classics, histories, philosophies, and collections that would fill several carriages. Never had anyone raised questions like the Crown Prince had today.

Faced with the Crown Prince’s innovative views, Grand Tutor Wen could only dutifully advise him: A gentleman should sacrifice his desires and pleasures to uphold rituals and laws for the welfare of all under heaven.

Grand Tutor Wen earnestly urged the Crown Prince to emulate the ancients, control himself, and return to ritual. He even brought up the previous two generations of heirs he had guided, praising them profusely, with undisguised pride in his words.

But what had His Highness said then?

“I have disappointed Teacher.”

The youth appeared frail and vulnerable, making it difficult to criticize him, but his words were thought-provoking.

“But I am a living person with thoughts and flesh; I cannot be anyone’s replica.”

The Crown Prince gave a good-natured smile and said sincerely, “Even Confucius advocated ‘teaching according to individual aptitude,’ tailoring education to different personalities. If Teacher has taught three generations using the same standard, producing identical students, how are they different from rigid clay figures?”

Though spoken gently, each word was a pearl of wisdom.

Thinking carefully, which of the Eastern Palace’s three teachers had not treated the heir as clay to be molded?

Even Grand Tutor Wen himself had spent his life instilling his ideals in the Crown Prince, striving to shape the clean slate of a youth into a tool to implement his political theories. Where had he considered “teaching according to individual aptitude”?

The Crown Prince had truly grown during these months of recovery and now had his views, seeing through the mystery within.

Amid his alarm, Grand Tutor Wen felt the pride of a teacher.

At his advanced age, why should he remain mired in political quagmires, forgetting his true heart?

With sudden clarity in his chest, Grand Tutor Wen sighed lightly and rose, leaning on his cane.

Outside the hall, the sun was warm. Beneath the withered branches and remaining snow lay the promise of all things striving to bloom in the coming year.

……

“Grand Tutor Wen has retired?”

In the Eastern Palace’s bedchamber, Zhao Yān put on her clothes to cover the raw silk binding her chest, blinking as she asked, “He was perfectly fine. Why would the old man resign?”

“That’s a question for Your Highness.”

Liu Ying efficiently helped her into elaborate garments and fastened the white jade belt. “It’s said that after leaving the Chongwen Hall yesterday, Grand Tutor Wen went directly to the Taiji Hall and requested resignation, citing advanced age, declining health, and the desire to nurture his remaining years.”

“He didn’t mention the Eastern Palace, showing that the old man still understands discretion.”

Zhao Yān was unaware that Grand Tutor Wen’s “discretion” in voluntarily resigning stemmed from her inadvertently blank test paper.

She thought that Grand Tutor Wen was indeed very old, with poor eyesight and hearing. Each time he had to hunch over, pressing his eyes against the magnifier to see clearly, making her neck ache just watching him.

Sitting before the mirror to bind her hair, Zhao Yān asked: “Did Father Emperor agree?”

Liu Ying nodded: “Grand Tutor Wen was earnest in his words, and His Majesty had no choice but to agree.”

“Grand Tutor Wen has resigned, yet I still have to go to the Chongwen Hall.”

Zhao Yān straightened her brocade robe, her small face showing a hint of distress. “Of the Eastern Palace’s three teachers, which one will I have to deal with today?”

“This servant does not know.” Liu Ying also found it strange.

Logically, the Empress should have received the news by now. Why was there still no information?

Zhao Yān frowned, then quickly relaxed: “We’ll find out when we get there.”

At the Chongwen Hall, the window was half open.

Zhao Yān looked at the tall figure reclining in the Grand Tutor’s chair and was instantly thunderstruck.

The young, handsome man wore a dark casual robe, with a scholarly left sleeve and a martial right sleeve. His features were as if carved from jade as he slightly raised his eyes from his seat.

When those eyes with their long, dense lashes opened, they were soul-capturing and imposing. He said calmly: “From today onwards, this Prince will concurrently serve as the Crown Prince’s Grand Tutor, responsible for educational duties.”