Zhao Yān held the soft pink paw of the lion cat and beckoned, “It’s a congratulatory gift from people below. I don’t know how to raise it, but knowing the Grand Tutor’s fondness for wild cats in the palace, I brought it here.”

Wenren Lin understood at once: “Is Your Highness using someone else’s flowers to make an offering to Buddha?”

“Yes. So, does Buddha like this flower?”

As she spoke, Zhao Yān tilted her head slightly, observing Wenren Lin’s expression.

The small creature peeking from her sleeve also tilted its head, blinking its round eyes—the movements of both human and cat were remarkably synchronized.

Wenren Lin’s gaze softened, with a faint smile appearing in his eyes.

He took the warm, soft little thing with both hands, held the cat up by its front paws, and then, facing the warm light of late summer, touched his nose to the cat’s.

Watching his straight nose, Zhao Yān inexplicably recalled their rare two kisses, when he had likewise half-lowered his thick eyelashes, his high nose bridge brushing against her cheeks…

“What is Your Highness thinking about, so lost in thought?”

Wenren Lin had somehow been watching her sideways, cradling the delicate lion cat in one arm while examining her.

…

…

Zhao Yān awkwardly shifted her gaze, but after a moment, firmly brought it back. She noticed several cat hairs clinging to Wenren Lin’s black robe, and her lips curled into a smile.

“The Grand Tutor truly loves cats.”

Her posture became much more natural as she straightened her sleeves and said, “Now the Grand Tutor has his cat.”

“A cat? This Prince has had one for a long time.”

Wenren Lin’s smiling eyes were deep and enigmatic as he gazed meaningfully at Zhao Yān, stepping to sit beside her.

Zhao Yān was sitting on a meditation chair, much longer than ordinary seats, yet even so, it was somewhat crowded for two people—fabric nearly brushing against fabric, arm against arm.

Wenren Lin raised his well-formed, large hand and skillfully stroked the quietly squinting lion cat in his arms, from its head down its back, then pinched its pink ear tips.

Sitting so close, Zhao Yān could perceive his every movement, even feeling the flex of the firm muscles in his arm when he stroked the cat.

She discreetly moved slightly to the side, when suddenly she heard Wenren Lin say, “This cat’s fur is still missing something.”

“Is that so?”

When bringing the cat, Zhao Yān had specifically asked Li Fu to clean and groom it, so there shouldn’t be any dirt affecting its fur.

She leaned across Wenren Lin’s leg and reached out to stroke the cat’s back several times, but the fur under her palm felt perfectly smooth…

Still dubious, she saw Wenren Lin raise his free arm, circling her shoulder, stroking from her half-bound, half-loose hair down to her slender waist, his fingertips gently patting.

Zhao Yān trembled suddenly, then heard Wenren Lin’s tender voice from above her head: “No matter the world’s snow or soft jade, none can compare to Your Highness in the slightest.”

Zhao Yān said with annoyance, “Should I thank the Grand Tutor for such high praise?”

Wenren Lin shook his head, his chin lightly brushing the top of her hair: “It’s merely the truth; Your Highness should graciously accept it.”

Zhao Yān heard the smile in his voice and knew he was in a good mood, so she didn’t argue further.

“Your Highness should bestow a name upon this little creature,” Wenren Lin said in a low voice.

She had forgotten about that!

Zhao Yān looked at the lion cat’s snow-white, fluffy fur, and after searching through her literary knowledge, pondered, “It’s completely white as snow, so how about calling it Snow Slave?”

“Whatever Your Highness calls it is fine, even if you called it Dung Ball.”

“You!”

The kitten also seemed to understand this remark, pawing at Wenren Lin’s chest and meowing in protest.

“Let’s just call it Snow Slave then, common as it may be.”

Zhao Yān felt Wenren Lin’s low laughter vibrating through her arm, making it tingle. She glared at him without much force, then added, “Li Fu says cats tend to run away before they’re properly domesticated, so remember to close the windows.”

Wenren Lin slightly raised the corner of his eye and said with a smile, “This Prince has many affairs, and when busy, might not have time to attend to it. However, Your Highness could come by frequently to look after it.”

How could Zhao Yān not know he was digging a trap, setting bait to lure her into his web?

She lightly snorted, “I am also busy. How about this—when you don’t have time to look after it, send someone to bring it to the Eastern Palace…”

As she spoke, she vaguely felt something was amiss.

Why did their tone of discussion sound like parents discussing how to raise a child? Zhao Yān frowned slightly, her expression turning peculiar.

The sun tilted westward, its light quietly crawling along the window lattice.

Wenren Lin took in her subtle expression, and after a moment, his nose lightly touched her temple: “This is just fine.”

The present was quite good, maintaining a distance where they could feel each other’s warmth without hurting her.

More than this, he couldn’t give.

“What?” Zhao Yān didn’t understand his meaning.

Wenren Lin twirled a lock of hair falling on her shoulder with his finger, his face full of peaceful indulgence.

That evening, after Zhao Yān returned to the Eastern Palace, she received a small jar of Purple Robe wine sent by Wenren Lin.

The familiar-looking eunuch wiped his sweat and smiled, “His Highness said this wine has a strong aftereffect, so please don’t drink too much. When you finish it, you can ask His Highness for more.”

Zhao Yān ordered Liu Ying to fetch money to reward the eunuch for his errand. She cradled the small wine jar sitting on her couch, lightly sniffing the sweet fruity aroma.

She curled her lips in satisfaction, allowing the smile to spread to the corners of her eyes, reddening the small tearmark mole.

Cool winds dispersed the summer heat on the ground, and autumn arrived quietly in a sudden rainstorm.

At the Left Minister’s mansion, in the Quiet Garden, raindrops fell from the plantain leaves, splashing with clear sounds on the steps.

“You found out?”

Left Minister Li Kexing, dressed in casual attire, stood under the eaves. As if anticipating something, his aged face was covered with a layer of dim sorrow.

“Yes.”

Zhou Ji stood a step behind his teacher, his blue robe emphasizing his bony frame, and replied, “Your student visited scholars who had connections with junior brother and learned that some classmates had copied junior brother’s responses to Master Linjiang’s essays. After reading them, I could roughly deduce what he had been doing before his death. Yesterday, your student paid respects to Uncle Shen and confirmed my suspicions.”

As he spoke, he took out a document from his sleeve and respectfully handed it to Li Kexing.

Li Kexing took the document and, facing the fading light, unfolded it and began reading carefully.

As he read, his expression grew increasingly grave. He asked, “Wanlan, what do you think of this document?”

Zhou Ji said, “It cites extensively, cuts straight to the core, and is the most ear-shattering declaration in a hundred years, certainly not unworthy of a teacher’s instruction.”

“Do you agree with his political views?”

“No. Although we don’t share the same path, gentlemen can disagree harmoniously①. Junior brother knew it was impossible yet did it anyway②, vomiting blood to create this text, breaking his bones to pave the road—your student has nothing but respect for him.”

Li Kexing nodded in approval.

These two prized disciples of his—one born into officialdom yet cultivating a pure, people-oriented heart; the other, though not endorsing his fellow disciple’s political views, still willing to offer the greatest respect to his opponent.

This was truly the manner of a gentleman, the most dazzling pair of unblemished pearls from his school!

“How regrettable, how painful! Jingming was only eighteen!”

Li Kexing looked up to the sky with a long sigh, tears barely visible at the corners of his eyes. After a long while, he shook his head and said, “He was too young and imagined court politics and state affairs too simply. It’s also my fault for only teaching him literary principles without teaching him how to protect himself… Bold and sweeping actions make the rigid easy to break; when wood stands tall in the forest, the wind will surely crush it. Wanlan, you must take warning from this and act with caution.”

“Your student will remember.”

Li Kexing looked again at the copied document in his hand, with both praise and regret, but was so overcome with grief that he could hardly stand. Zhou Ji quickly stepped forward, supporting Li Kexing’s arms with both hands.

He said, “Please take care of yourself, Teacher.”

Li Kexing waved his hand, carefully put away Shen Jingming’s posthumous work, and stumbled back into the room, sitting down with a long sigh.

“I called you here today to entrust you with another important matter.”

“Please speak, Teacher. Your student is listening attentively.”

“The Imperial Lectures will begin on the twelfth day of the eighth month, and His Majesty has commanded me to preside. As you know, the Imperial Lectures in our dynasty serve two purposes: first, for the emperor and ministers to discuss state policies, and second, to select talented individuals for important duties. This is a good opportunity.”

Li Kexing took the teacup Zhou Ji had personally brewed, and said solemnly, “The riots in Luozhou continue unabated, the national treasury is depleted, and the ‘Resource Development Strategy’ cannot wait any longer. The lecture on the ‘Rites of Zhou’ will be assigned to you, and you must lecture well.”

Over these years, Li Kexing had been pondering how to plug the massive hole in the national treasury.

But as he was from the Luoyang gentry lineage, he naturally wouldn’t cut his head, and his ideas were more moderate and conservative than those of the younger generation. Unable to reduce expenditures, he could only develop new sources of revenue, hoping to slightly alleviate one of the Great Xuan’s chronic ailments.

Zhou Ji understood his teacher’s meaning. His mentor was advancing in years, and before retirement, he needed to find a successor to speak for him, and by extension, for the Luoyang gentry at court.

“There’s also a personal matter.”

Li Kexing cleared his throat, his stern face softening somewhat, “You are not young anymore. Your father has repeatedly sent word to me, asking if there are any suitable, virtuous young women of matching status at court for you to marry. I feel this matter should depend on your wishes… Wanlan, since your return to the capital, have you met any young woman you admire?”

Zhou Ji was slightly startled, and vague faces flashed through his mind.

Li Kexing observed his silence and hesitation, and encouraged him kindly, “Just tell me, and I will arrange it for you.”

Zhou Ji lowered his head, and after a moment, said clearly, “Your student wishes only to befriend literature and has no one he admires.”

“You…”

This favored disciple was excellent in every way, except for being somewhat slow in matters of human sentiment and worldly affairs. It was feared that by the time he realized what “admiration” meant, it would be too late.

Li Kexing looked at Zhou Ji, and after a while, let out a long sigh.

“You are all extraordinary talents that appear once in a hundred years, yet each of you should leave descendants.”

…

Since the incident at Zhao Yān’s birthday banquet, the Eastern Palace had been peaceful for a long time.

The storms ceased abruptly with Prince Yong’s suicide from guilt, and peaceful days followed, so tranquil they seemed like a dream.

Zhao Yān shuttled dazedly and routinely between Chongwen Hall and the Eastern Palace, suddenly beginning to question her purpose in remaining at the Eastern Palace. She had not yet figured out why this final game had proceeded so smoothly.

In early August, Zhao Yān received an edict to report to Taiji Hall to attend the Imperial Lectures, but was shocked to hear that riots had broken out in Luozhou, with insurgent disaster victims occupying thirteen counties large and small.

The Emperor placed the urgent memorials heavily on the table, and though he uttered no angry words, the court officials and eunuchs in the hall were terrified and knelt in unison.

Zhao Yān also knelt, listening as her father paced back and forth before speaking: “The Crown Prince shall withdraw first, and the Imperial Lectures will proceed as usual.”

“Your child obeys.”

Zhao Yān bowed and rose to leave the hall, hearing her father say as she departed, “Where is Prince Su? Go summon Prince Su for me!”

Zhao Yān hadn’t seen Wenren Lin for several days. He wasn’t at Heguai Pavilion, and Snow Slave had been left in the care of eunuchs.

Zhao Yān couldn’t leave the palace and didn’t know if he had returned to Prince Su’s Mansion.

It was the beginning of another month, and Zhao Yān worried whether his poison had flared up without an antidote, wondering if his life was in danger…

She was lost in these thoughts, completely unaware until she collided with someone face-to-face.

Zhao Yān instinctively staggered back a step, then felt a pair of large hands steadying her, saying softly, “What are you thinking about?”

The dark-colored robe—Zhao Yān caught the familiar, cold, frosty scent.

She looked up in surprise, seeing Wenren Lin’s faintly smiling, pale face, not knowing whether to feel relieved or concerned.

Strange. Hadn’t Priest Shen Guang already died?

The previous pills had been used up, so why did Wenren Lin still carry this cold fragrance of medicinal pills?