Zhao Yān felt as if she had misheard, and questioned the head eunuch who stood beside her holding a duster.

The old eunuch smiled and bowed, repeating with absolute clarity: “Prince Su has been appointed as the Crown Prince’s Grand Tutor to assist the Eastern Palace. It was His Majesty himself who approved this.”

This was a man who could execute fifth-rank court officials with a mere word to establish his authority, whose slightest stomp could make the entire imperial city tremble three times over.

To have an imperial prince of a different surname with such overwhelming power assist a still-unestablished Crown Prince—this was no different from delivering a hostage directly into someone’s grasp. What was Father Emperor thinking?

Beneath his dark official robes peeked a glimpse of his crimson-red inner garment, exuding magnificence and nobility. His demeanor remained casual and composed, his countenance gentle and harmless, yet Zhao Yān could no longer recover the calm state of mind she had during their first meeting in the warm pavilion. She felt only a suffocating pressure, as if water were flooding her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

Wenren Lin stood before her, scrutinizing her for a moment before slightly raising his arm.

Beneath the tightly bound martial sleeve, his sinewy hand appeared long and powerful.

Zhao Yān recalled the splattered blood at Changqing Gate and couldn’t help but tense up.

However, that hand, which commanded life and death, merely fell naturally upon her shoulder with its thick fur collar.

Without any visible effort from Wenren Lin, Zhao Yān’s shoulders sank, and she dropped into the seat behind the writing desk.

…

…

The hand on her shoulder wasn’t heavy, yet it inspired fear from the depths of her heart. Zhao Yān turned her head, pretending to cough to avoid his touch, and said softly, “Thank you for your consideration, Prince Su.”

The warmth beneath his palm vanished in an instant. Wenren Lin loosely curled his five fingers, unconcerned.

The little Crown Prince’s frame was as delicate as a woman’s, seemingly so fragile that it would shatter with the slightest pressure. How could such shoulders bear the tempestuous winds and rain of this turbid, chaotic world?

Wenren Lin leaned forward, extending his long arm from behind, reaching past the Crown Prince’s ear, using a white jade paperweight to smooth the rice paper before her inch by inch.

Feeling that thin frame tremble slightly, contempt deepened in his eyes.

“This prince came to assume his duties in haste, and the Ministry of Rites has not yet made preparations, so we will not perform the formal ceremony today. The Crown Prince should first compose a policy essay, so that this prince may assess your level and teach according to your ability.”

The words “teach according to your ability” were spoken with particular naturalness and slowness, as if making casual conversation.

There were no outsiders in Chongwen Hall, yet her conversation with the Grand Tutor of Literature yesterday was now coming from Wenren Lin’s mouth…

The ears and eyes of Prince Su’s residence were truly terrifyingly sharp!

“Prince Su is thoughtful,” Zhao Yān said.

Zhao Yān sat perfectly upright, even more cautious than when facing the Emperor, fearing that someone might notice something amiss.

Wenren Lin wore a half-smile, slightly turning his head while still leaning forward to arrange the paper.

“Has the Crown Prince done something to trouble his conscience?”

In this position, he was extremely close, his deep voice seemingly resonating directly against her ear, “Otherwise, why be so nervous at the mere sight of this prince?”

Stay calm…

Don’t lose your composure.

Zhao Yān maintained her expression, imitating the languid manner she remembered of Zhao Yǎn, saying, “Prince Su’s reputation precedes him; it’s difficult for me not to be nervous.”

Wenren Lin gave a short laugh, neither confirming nor denying.

“This prince wields the blade for the Emperor, only killing those who harbor guilt in the darkness.”

He continued grinding ink without pause, asking in a very soft voice, “The Crown Prince surely doesn’t have any secrets that cannot be revealed, right?”

Zhao Yān suppressed the urge to shiver and answered formally: “I am young and ignorant, finding it difficult even to survive. What secrets could I possibly keep from Prince Su?”

Wenren Lin gazed at her silently.

After a moment, he suddenly raised his eyebrows and smiled, as if the chilling pressure just now had been nothing more than a harmless joke.

“Just jesting. The Crown Prince took it seriously.”

Wenren Lin unhurriedly picked up the brush, moistened it with ink, and offered it to the frightened little Crown Prince.

How could Zhao Yān dare to touch the writing implements he offered?

She could only resort to her earlier tactics, covering her lips with her fist in a gentle cough, weakly holding her forehead as she said, “The weather has been cold for days. I am weak and my vision is blurry. I fear I cannot produce anything worthwhile.”

Wenren Lin nodded and withdrew the brush, saying: “It was this prince’s oversight.”

Oh? Was he so reasonable?

Zhao Yān was suspicious, secretly observing him from the corner of her eye, only to see Wenren Lin’s right hand, which had just set down the brush, take a turn and reach for her wrist.

Her eyelid twitched, and Zhao Yān quickly withdrew her hand, hiding it within her sleeve, weakly asking: “What is Prince Su doing?”

As she pulled away, Wenren Lin’s fingertips brushed across the back of her hand, the icy coldness sending shivers throughout her body.

His hand had not a trace of human warmth.

Wenren Lin’s fingertips paused slightly, and he slowly raised his eyelids to look at her: “This prince has some knowledge of medicine and can take your pulse to provide some treatment.”

Zhao Yān secretly gritted her teeth; her little tricks were utterly worthless before Wenren Lin.

One’s pulse was the gateway to life, healthy or ill, a single touch would reveal all, to say nothing of the inherent yin-yang differences between male and female pulses.

Her smile became less natural as she wrapped herself tighter in her fox fur, saying: “Caring for my health is the Imperial Physicians’ responsibility. Such trivial matters… need not trouble Prince Su.”

“The Crown Prince’s body is tied to the nation’s safety—it is no small matter,” Wenren Lin maintained the appearance of a proper gentleman, yet the smile in his eyes revealed an unfathomable darkness. “Or does the Crown Prince believe that this prince is inferior even to the mediocre doctors of the Imperial Physicians?”

Zhao Yān’s throat went dry, but she forced herself to remain calm and said, “Prince Su should understand my current situation. I recently escaped death. If something were to go wrong during your treatment, it could lead to complications and implicate you.”

After speaking, she raised her watery eyes with a trembling gaze, wearing an expression of “I’m considering your interests too” that appeared as sincere as possible.

Wenren Lin was quite surprised by her response. He didn’t withdraw his hand; instead, his index finger, adorned with a hawk-patterned dark iron ring, came to rest on the edge of the desk, tapping it unhurriedly.

The invisible pressure was immense.

It was at this critical moment that Empress Wei burst in.

Her phoenix robes trailed magnificently on the ground as the Mother of the Nation walked in with the dashing valor of a female general, coldly saying: “Prince Su is in quite high spirits! The hundred officials of the court are not enough for you to manage, so you’ve taken up teaching? Have all the loyal ministers and capable generals in the world perished?”

Liu Ying followed behind the Empress with her head lowered, and Zhao Yān knew that she had quietly summoned this reinforcement, causing her to secretly heave a great sigh of relief.

She rose to perform a courtesy, and the eunuchs attending to the writing implements, tea, and water in the hall likewise retreated and kowtowed in unison.

Amidst the collective kneeling, Wenren Lin’s tall figure, standing with his hands behind his back, appeared particularly conspicuous.

He did not even offer a bow; a slight nod of his head was all he gave as a greeting: “The Empress flatters me. Though this prince is young, I am certainly qualified to teach His Highness the Crown Prince. As for Her Majesty the Empress…”

He paused: “Rushing here in such haste—those who don’t know might think Her Majesty is anxious to conceal something.”

“This is my only son; naturally, I must check on him frequently,” Empress Wei said with cold phoenix eyes, not without sarcasm. “After all, Prince Su’s methods of dealing with others are quite formidable.”

The palace servants trembled as they lowered their heads, not daring to make a sound.

The only abnormal presence was Wenren Lin, who showed not the slightest displeasure and even had the leisure to chuckle softly.

“It is this prince’s honor that Her Majesty graces us with her presence and attention.”

Wenren Lin turned and seated himself in the tutor’s chair, saying to the attendants, “Why are you standing there dumbfounded? Would you have Her Majesty stand while listening to the lesson?”

Only then did the palace servants spring into action—those moving chairs moved chairs, those brewing tea brewed tea.

Wenren Lin no longer asked the Crown Prince to write an essay but instead took up a copy of “The Six Secret Teachings” and began to explain it.

His voice was deep and pleasant, speaking eloquently, making the dry and abstract military treatise easy to understand. The image of him holding the scroll in one hand exuded something of a scholarly general’s temperament.

Unfortunately, Zhao Yān had no mind to listen carefully.

Caught between the Empress and Prince Su, she felt like she was witnessing divine beings in combat, with undercurrents surging beneath the surface.

Finally, the bell tolled, and Wenren Lin did not extend the lesson. He put down the half-explained military text and took his leave.

With the nerve-wracking lesson over, Zhao Yān collapsed onto the desk as if all strength had left her body, feeling greatly relieved.

Coming back to her senses, she noticed her back was cold—her inner garments had been soaked with cold sweat.

The back of her hand seemed to still retain Wenren Lin’s temperature, chilling her to the bone.

Empress Wei stood up and gave a meaningful look.

Liu Ying understood and led the attendants away.

Zhao Yān knew what her mother wanted to ask and hoarsely said with fatigue: “This place is not safe. Let’s talk when we get back.”

Prince Su’s mansion had ears that reached the heavens; her conversation with the Grand Tutor of Literature yesterday had already reached Wenren Lin’s ears. They could not discuss secrets here.

Upon returning to the Eastern Palace, and just as the main door was closed, Empress Wei’s cold voice came from behind.

“What did he say to you earlier? Was there anything unusual?”

After Zhao Yān had faced Wenren Lin’s pressure alone and matched wits with him for so long, her mother’s first concern was not about her fear and anxiety but whether their plan had been exposed.

Zhao Yān slumped onto the soft couch, suppressing her lingering fear as she said: “I’ve managed to fool him for now. But if this happens a few more times, I may not escape unscathed.”

She had completely understood now that Prince Su was scheming and ruthless. His level of danger was incomparable to Prince Yong’s band of rabble.

She needed to find an opportunity to escape his control.

Right! The Sichuan rebels!

Zhao Yān’s eyes brightened: Now that the weather was cold, the Sichuan rebels could not withstand the severe cold—it was the perfect time to launch a counterattack. If she could persuade the Emperor to send Prince Su away from the capital to suppress the rebellion, then she, in the palace, would have a chance to breathe.

Empress Wei saw her daughter’s eyes darting about and knew what she was calculating in her mind.

She frowned and said mercilessly, “I advise you not to entertain such wild thoughts. Your father will not engage in battle.”

“Why not?”

Zhao Yān looked up, half-doubting as she said, “With the heavy snow these days, we could not only seize the opportunity to pursue and attack but also remove Prince Su from the capital—killing two birds with one stone. Why not engage in battle?”

Empress Wei’s red lips moved slightly.

She seemed to want to say something, but ultimately said nothing.

“This is not something you should concern yourself with. Fortunately, Yǎn rarely appears in public, and Prince Su knows little about him. If Wenren Lin tries to trick you, just remain steady. This Empress will handle everything.”

Empress Wei turned with her trailing robes, declaring each word with solemn firmness: “There is only one rule—you must never allow him to touch you! Otherwise, the difference between man and woman will not escape his eyes.”

By then, not only would mother and daughter be doomed, but the entire Great Xuan would plunge into hell.

Meanwhile, the man viewed as a demon was reclining on a beautiful curved couch in the warm pavilion, holding a small bag of dried meat, teasing the feral cats roaming the palace.

The cats, flowered, black, and white, all raised their tails, surrounding this handsome demon with soft mews and gentle rubs.

The murderous Prince Su lowered his eyelids, lips curving into a smile, occasionally fondly scratching a cat’s chin with his finger. The scene had a strangely harmonious quality.

“A military campaign to suppress the rebellion requires mountains of gold and silver. Can the Emperor produce that now?”

He tossed a handful of dried meat with an effortless elegance.

The more chaotic the times, the more the nation sought immortals and questioned the Dao, praying for escape from their suffering.

Over the years, the treasury’s silver had long been transformed into the brocade clothes and jade food of the three thousand imperial relatives, into the bricks and tiles of Daoist temples and palaces. The Great Xuan now was just a magnificent empty shell, tottering on the brink of collapse.

Zhang Cang hesitated: “Even if there is no need to lead troops into battle, Your Highness need not personally monitor the Crown Prince. Such minor matters could be entrusted to—”

Wenren Lin lazily glanced at Zhang Cang.

The little feral cats that had been begging for food just moments ago scattered in fright, as if disturbed by an invisible aura, leaving only scattered bits of dried meat on the steps.

Wenren Lin rose with his hands behind his back, his black boots stepping over the remnants as he said casually, “Next time, shall this prince consult you before acting?”

Zhang Cang’s slightly dark face instantly lost a shade of color, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he said: “This servant spoke out of turn.”

But Wenren Lin had already walked past him.

The palace path was long, and no one knew what he was calculating in his heart.

After all these years, even Zhang Cang had never truly understood his master.

Only one thing was certain: the little Crown Prince in Prince Su’s hands would not have easy days ahead.