Since the topic of teaching had been mentioned, Zhao Yān keenly captured the deeper meaning in his words.

“Does this mean the tutor will return to Chongwen Hall to teach?” she asked, bright lamplight falling on her eyelashes.

Before her stay at Yuquan Palace, Wenren Lin’s visits to Chongwen Hall had already become increasingly rare, and in recent days, he had completely disappeared.

Zhao Yān truly felt uncertain. Both officially and privately, there was no more suitable candidate for the Crown Prince’s tutor than Wenren Lin.

Wenren Lin’s lips moved slightly, his frost-white knuckles tapping on the armrest.

Having just suppressed the Bone-Chilling Poison, he had no desire to be intimate or heartfelt with anyone tonight, which was why his earlier teasing words were largely deliberate.

Given the little princess’s usual temperament, she would normally have left in anger with red-tipped ears, yet today she hadn’t. The slender figure standing in the lamplight exuded a certain tranquility.

Wenren Lin found this fascinating and answered her question with one of his own: “Is Your Highness anticipating it, or not?”

His eyes held a shallow playfulness, as if regardless of whether the answer was “yes” or “no,” she would fall into the trap he had prepared in advance.

…

…

Zhao Yān naturally would not fall for his scheme again, so she raised her eyes, showing a hint of distress: “Tutor Jin’s content is verbose and obscure, truly difficult to understand. Since I already hold this position, I still wish to learn something.”

Wenren Lin looked into her eyes and noncommittally replied: “Your Highness has become increasingly diligent since returning from Yuquan Palace. I wonder if you are equally enthusiastic about learning other things.”

“That depends on who’s teaching,” Zhao Yān bravely countered.

Wenren Lin laughed, rose, and walked to stand before Zhao Yān, looking at her.

“Has Your Highness’s monthly cycle ended?” he asked in a low voice, his features relaxed and moist.

Why this sudden question again?

Zhao Yān was caught off guard, opened her mouth, unsure whether to tell the truth or pretend she hadn’t heard.

“If your body has recovered, I’ll teach Your Highness horseback riding at the training ground tomorrow. Should you ever face danger, riding a horse is always faster than running on two legs…”

At this point, Wenren Lin paused subtly, gazing with a smile at Zhao Yān’s evasive eyes, “Your Highness’s expression—where has your mind wandered?”

Zhao Yān froze, a slow warmth spreading across her cheeks.

Wenren Lin seemed to understand something, and after a moment, he seriously added: “Your Highness is still weak; waiting a couple more days would be more appropriate.”

Zhao Yān blinked, understanding this time: Wenren Lin’s “wait a couple more days” definitely referred to horseback riding.

Her thoughts would not be led astray twice, so she nodded: “Very well.”

Wenren Lin’s eye corners lifted slightly, the smile in his eyes deepening as he raised his hand to adjust Zhao Yān’s headdress that had been jostled in the carriage. “Then Your Highness should return to the Eastern Palace first; there’s no need to stay overnight tonight.”

Zhao Yān nodded instinctively, then came to her senses, surprise flashing in her eyes.

What overnight stay? She had never intended to spend the night with him!

She had been led into Wenren Lin’s verbal trap again. She wanted to explain, but anything she said would seem like a guilty cover-up, so she could only press her delicate lips together in embarrassment.

Wenren Lin’s lips were red and his eyes bright; with his loose hair and casual attire, he exuded a bewitchingly handsome aura. His conversation was even more calculating than usual—how could he possibly look ill?

“Seeing Prince Su has strength to spare, I’m now at ease.”

Zhao Yān turned away, took a few steps, and then slowly stopped.

She seemed to have made a significant decision. She gently clenched her fingers, finally turned back, and then extended her slender white fingers to grasp Wenren Lin’s sleeve, leaning slightly against his shoulder.

The soft warmth in his arms brushed against him and withdrew immediately. Before Wenren Lin could recover, Zhao Yān had already raised her ink-lined eye corners and quickly departed.

It was a light and reserved “embrace” from a young woman, just a fleeting touch on Wenren Lin’s broad, damp shoulder.

Wenren Lin knew she was responding to his earlier comment, “Perhaps if Your Highness condescends to embrace me, this Prince might recover.” It wasn’t coquettish, even somewhat perfunctory, but very genuine.

Despite knowing this, the bloody restlessness in his chest still dissipated with her gesture.

After a while, he narrowed his eyes as if savoring the moment and emitted an extremely low laugh from his throat.

Zhao Yān returned to her carriage.

With the curtain lowered, a flickering small lamp illuminated her lightly flushed cheeks.

The impulsive touch of Wenren Lin just now was unplanned; even she couldn’t distinguish whether it was public or private. When she came to her senses, she hadn’t even seen his expression before fleeing in panic.

She raised her finger to touch the tip of her nose, which seemed to still carry the scent of Wenren Lin after his bath—a faint cold fragrance, almost identical to the aroma of that black-red pill she had seen in the red-lacquered medicine box that day.

What exactly was that pill?

If Wenren Lin wasn’t truly ill, what had happened during these days when he used illness as an excuse to avoid entering the palace?

As the fog thickened, Zhao Yān supported her still slightly warm cheeks, feeling that some truth was just within reach, and couldn’t help but frown.

……

The next day, upon returning from Chongwen Hall, the Ministry of Rites had drafted reception arrangements for the Empress’s birthday celebration and presented them to Zhao Yān for review.

Though called a review, it was merely an informative courtesy given that the Emperor had entrusted the Crown Prince with organizing the event.

Last year, rebel troops had surrounded the city, already unsettling the public. Additionally, the recent case of “missing boys and girls” had widespread implications. Court officials believed that, especially at such times, it was essential to create an atmosphere of festivities and joy shared with the common people.

The birthday celebration itself was a minor matter; displaying a scene of “peace and prosperity” was the ultimate goal. Therefore, the memorial presented by the Ministry of Rites was extremely verbose and complicated.

“At that time, various royal and noble relatives from the fiefs will come to the capital to offer congratulations. There will be at least a hundred princes and nobles’ sons to receive. According to the Ministry of Rites’ standards, just the accommodation arrangements alone far exceed the budget. Father Emperor has also followed the advice of that so-called Priest Shen Guang, insisting on renovating the Star-Plucking Observatory in the Northern Gardens to pray for blessings for Consort Xu’s unborn royal child…”

Zhao Yān sat on the couch, tossing aside the memorial that was over four feet long, and said with a headache, “This will drain three years’ worth of future treasury funds.”

Parasites were everywhere, corrupt officials rampant, gnawing at the Great Xuan Dynasty into darkness. No wonder Zhao Yǎn was determined to be the moth that extinguished the flame.

“I’ve heard that Princess Shoukang’s family is already on their way to the capital and should arrive in about ten days.”

Liu Ying brought fresh iced grapes and fanned Zhao Yān, saying, “At that time, Lady Changlé will stay in the palace for a while. The Empress’s wish is for Your Highness to take special care of her.”

Hearing this, Zhao Yān wearily rubbed her forehead, her already furrowed brow adding two more lines of worry.

Lady Changlé, Huo Zhenzhen, was the only daughter of Princess Shoukang and General Huo Feng. Spoiled and willful since childhood, she had often quarreled with Zhao Yān to attract Crown Prince Zhao Yǎn’s attention when they were young.

Though it had been over seven years since they last met, Zhao Yān could still recall Huo Zhenzhen’s arrogant demeanor—arms folded in golden gauze sleeves, chin tilted high, glaring at her with a pout.

The Empress asked her to care for Lady Changlé for a simple reason: her father, Huo Feng, held some prestige in the military and was on good terms with Pei Sa’s father, the Marquis of Jinping; her mother, Princess Shoukang, was the Emperor’s sister, and the Emperor’s smooth ascension to the throne had relied heavily on his brother-in-law Huo Feng and the Wenren family’s support.

Lady Changlé, Huo Zhenzhen, had originally been the Empress’s chosen candidate for Crown Prince Zhao Yǎn’s consort, intending to strengthen family ties.

Now, with Zhao Yǎn’s situation and Consort Xu’s pregnancy, the Huo family was a powerful ally that could not be neglected, potentially providing some stability to the precarious Eastern Palace.

Having to care for her brother’s future consort, who was also her childhood rival, left Zhao Yān with mixed feelings.

However, there was an even more pressing problem at hand.

“What gift does the Eastern Palace usually present for the Mother Empress’s birthday?” Zhao Yān asked.

“Princess Changfeng’s” gift would be easy—Huayang was known for its jade, so selecting exquisite jade ornaments from there, accompanied by a handwritten letter expressing regret at not being able to attend personally while wishing to always remain by the Empress Dowager’s side, would suffice.

This had always been the practice in previous years; after all, the Empress didn’t care what she sent. But now that she was acting as “Crown Prince Zhao Yǎn,” the gift from the Crown Prince naturally required more careful consideration.

Liu Ying replied: “In previous years, the Empress’s birthday gift was always personally prepared by the Crown Prince.”

Zhao Yān’s eyes moved, and she leaned closer to ask in a low voice: “Should I imitate the Crown Prince’s handwriting and compose an essay?”

Liu Ying thought for a moment and said: “Last year, the Crown Prince presented a birthday ode; this year it certainly cannot be the same.”

“Would calligraphy or painting be appropriate?”

“This servant has heard that this year, the Marquis of Ningyang is also preparing a longevity painting to present to the Empress. Regarding artistic skill…”

Zhao Yān understood Liu Ying’s implied meaning: Uncle Marquis Ningyang Wei Yan was known for his exquisite brush and ink skills. In terms of calligraphy and painting prowess, Zhao Yān’s imitative abilities could hardly meet the standards.

With the last option also blocked, Zhao Yān flopped sideways onto the couch, her head hanging over the edge, looking up at the intersecting beams on the ceiling, letting out a long sigh.

“If only Liu Ji were here…” she sighed unconsciously.

Liu Baiwei was well-informed and regarded Zhao Yǎn as a recognized talent and confidant. If he were here to advise, he would surely provide many good ideas.

Just as she was thinking this, a familiar, tall, and straight figure appeared in her inverted vision.

Accompanied by the cautious announcement of a eunuch, that figure came closer and closer, finally stopping by Zhao Yān’s couch.

Shrouded in shadow, Wenren Lin stood with his hands behind his back, leaning over, his deep, intense beautiful eyes gazing at Zhao Yān as he asked: “Whose name was Your Highness just calling?”

When he asked this, his voice was light and low, his lips even carrying a slight smile.

Zhao Yān blinked, quickly sat up straight, and turned her head to look at him.

“Today’s martial arts class has already ended,” she said, glancing at the sky outside.

Dusk was falling, the time when all things begin to rest.

Wenren Lin sat in the chair opposite, taking the teacup offered by Liu Ying and turning it in his fingers, saying in a calm tone: “This Prince said he would bring two books to the Eastern Palace to personally instruct Your Highness.”

Those contents could not be taught in Chongwen Hall.

Only then did Zhao Yān recall, and looking back, she saw that a eunuch beside Wenren Lin was holding a blue cloth-wrapped object—he had indeed brought several books…

Judging by their shape and size, they were quite substantial.

Seeing Wenren Lin take the cloth package, his long, slender white fingers beginning to methodically untie the cloth knot, Zhao Yān felt inexplicably nervous and hurriedly pretended: “I remember now, indeed there was such a matter!”

Fearing that Wenren Lin might unwrap something inappropriate in public, she sat up straight and instructed Liu Ying beside her: “You may all withdraw. I wish to consult the tutor privately.”

Liu Ying glanced at Zhao Yān, moved the lamp on the table closer, then led the eunuchs out with a curtsy.

As the hall doors closed, Wenren Lin’s cloth package was also unwrapped. He took out a stack of books and illustrations from the rectangular brocade box.

Zhao Yān glanced and vaguely saw titles such as “**Classic” and “Nourishing Yin”…

Names in the same vein as the “Dark Woman’s Classic”—one could guess what sort of content they contained.

Zhao Yān swallowed and looked away, saying, “Actually, it’s not necessary to read these…”

“Your Highness doesn’t understand the balance of yin and yang, only knows how to strain your body. You’ll know the bitterness when you’re older.”

Wenren Lin leaned forward to place the books on the bedside table, looking up to say, “Still not learning your lesson? Who will you cry to then?”

Zhao Yān could only compromise: “Leave them here, I’ll study them when I have time.”

Wenren Lin seemed to see through her little scheme and unhurriedly said, “Princes also study these things when they come of age. Your Highness prides yourself on being no less than men, so why be shy?”

He casually rested his forearm on the armrest, the high-quality dark sleeve robe meandering down, as he gestured: “Your Highness, choose one to read first, and ask me if there’s anything you don’t understand.”

This meant he would supervise her studies, allowing no shirking or evasion.

Zhao Yān had no choice but to resign herself and randomly pick a book from the pile.

Opening the title page, she was immediately shocked by the suggestive illustrations and text, quickly closing the book with a snap, her eyes flickering.

Seeing her uncomfortable demeanor, Wenren Lin couldn’t help but laugh softly: despite having done the most intimate things together, the little princess’s reaction was still so innocent and pure, completely different from that blooming lotus-like, alluring appearance.

The books must be read; he didn’t want the little princess to be confused every time she gave herself away, followed by a hasty and muddled aftermath.

“If Your Highness is embarrassed, this Prince can explain it to you.”

He reached out to take the book from Zhao Yān’s hand, half-closing his eyes, and began to recite in a low, pleasant voice: “‘The Yellow Emperor said: How to know a woman’s pleasure?’① This means what signs indicate that a woman has experienced a sense of pleasure…”

Zhao Yān recalled certain outrageous scenes in Prince Su’s mansion. Those memories found their correspondences in these low, mellow words, bringing vivid images to mind.

Yet Wenren Lin sat with his clothes perfectly arranged, earnestly teaching and explaining, without the slightest hint of teasing.

Zhao Yān’s face burned red as she hurriedly said: “I can read it myself.”

She snatched the book from Wenren Lin’s hand and pretended to read it earnestly.

Her gaze moved extremely quickly, her mind in chaos, reading hastily without truly remembering anything.

Wenren Lin seemed to see through her pretense. He picked a frost-covered grape from the fruit plate, peeled it leisurely, and placed it in Zhao Yān’s mouth.

His moist fingertip brushed across Zhao Yān’s lips as he commanded in a low voice: “Read it aloud.”