After paying respects to her mother in Kunning Palace, Zhao Yān unconsciously paused her steps and looked toward Taiji Hall.

She dismissed Liu Ying and her other palace attendants, waiting alone in the empty palace corridor for nearly half an hour before seeing Wenren Lin leisurely emerge from the gate of Taiji Hall.

Zhao Yān turned around, waiting for him at her spot.

Today, Wenren Lin wore a dark-colored official robe with long scholarly sleeves, broad-shouldered and long-legged, against the backdrop of palace walls and dark tiles, he appeared like the most richly inked stroke in a painting.

He stopped, his dark eyes taking in Zhao Yān’s small figure, suddenly smiling: “Your Highness seems hesitant to speak. Has that jar of Purple Robe wine been finished?”

The faintly floating frosty scent diluted the restlessness of the early autumn sunshine.

Zhao Yān took a light breath, walking alongside him: “Can’t I find you for other matters?”

“Of course you can. That cat is being fed three meals a day and has grown fatter by a circle.”

“Oh, that’s good…”

But it wasn’t about the cat.

…

…

Green foliage extended over the palace walls, passing over their heads in patches, creating alternating patterns of shadow and light.

Zhao Yān walked with her sleeves gathered, looking at Wenren Lin’s usual expression beside her: “These past two days, have you been alright? Your medicine…”

“What does Your Highness mean? That without my medicine, I might die?”

Wenren Lin looked at Zhao Yān, who noticeably trembled, the enigmatic smile in his eyes deepening, “Your Highness is concerned about this Prince.”

“Just… asking casually.”

Zhao Yān’s voice became muffled as she turned to look at their shadows moving side by side on the wall, “After all, I still rely on the Grand Tutor’s protection.”

“Your Highness now stands out like snow in a blazing furnace, making decisions independently. When have you truly relied on this Prince?”

Wenren Lin teased her leisurely for a while before finally showing mercy and responding, “Doesn’t Your Highness always say that calamities last a thousand years? How could I die so easily?”

“That’s true.”

Zhao Yān nodded in agreement, the heaviness in her chest instantly easing by half, and following the conversation, she asked, “Then, is there someone else making medicine for the Grand Tutor?”

Wenren Lin slowed his pace, gazing at Zhao Yān’s delicate face disguised as a young boy.

Her momentary relief hadn’t escaped his eyes, and he saw an emotion akin to brightness that she hadn’t yet noticed.

Wenren Lin lowered his eyelids as shadows from the trees passed over his face, creating shifting patterns of light and dark. Walking along the abyss, he could no longer bear warmth, yet when light shone upon him, a base, stolen joy that shouldn’t exist arose in his heart.

Zhao Yān misunderstood Wenren Lin’s silence; this question was indeed somewhat intrusive, almost like deliberately extracting intelligence.

She focused on the swaying tree shadows on the ground, seamlessly changing the topic: “In a few days, the Imperial Lectures will begin. Will the Grand Tutor attend to oversee?”

Wenren Lin said lightly, “This Prince has no interest in the verbal battles of those pedantic scholars.”

With the current unrest in Luozhou, it was time to close the net.

Zhao Yān uttered a soft “Oh,” glancing sideways at the heavy fabric of Wenren Lin’s clothes, unable to resist speaking again: “The Grand Tutor seems to prefer wearing dark robes with scholarly sleeves in private.”

Zhao Yān rather liked him in scholarly-sleeved robes—handsome yet elegant, like a martial scholar skilled in both civil and military arts, unlike the sharp and bewitching impression he gave when wearing crimson official robes.

Wenren Lin simply stopped, focusing intently on Zhao Yān.

The little Crown Prince had many questions, most stemming from her interest in him. Like having obtained something favored, she was filled with an indefatigable curiosity about him.

Although this was something he had indulged in, yet…

Wenren Lin’s gaze flickered slightly before returning to calm gentleness, and after a long while, under Zhao Yān’s puzzled gaze, he said softly: “Your Highness should know that this Prince has two elder brothers.”

Zhao Yān nodded; this was no secret.

“This Prince’s eldest brother, Wenren Cang, was brave and skilled in battle. At sixteen, he once charged into an enemy camp in military attire, making a name for himself in a single battle. This Prince’s second brother, Wenren Mu, was an expert in military strategy, dignified in scholar’s robes, known as the ‘Little Military Advisor,’ and never lost a battle formation he arranged.”

Wenren Lin spoke casually, raising his hand to brush away oblique branches and leaves from his head, saying, “In the Battle of Yanluo Pass in the tenth year of Tianyou, eldest brother sacrificed himself to protect the city, dying alone under enemy horses, his remains never recovered. When arrows rained upon the city, second brother and his guards spontaneously shielded this Prince with their bodies, giving me a slim chance at survival.”

When they died, their military and civil robes were soaked in blood, riddled with countless wounds.

Wenren Lin could still recall the strong metallic smell of blood and the pungent stench of decaying bodies.

Under the dappled shade, Zhao Yān listened to Wenren Lin recount those bloody memories in a deep, calm voice, and an inexplicable desolation welled up from her heart.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

She only knew that Wenren Lin had barely survived by lying beneath a pile of corpses, but she didn’t know that those corpses… were his dearest loved ones, a wall built with flesh and blood.

How were the deaths of Wenren Cang and Wenren Mu any different from Zhao Yǎn and Shen Jingming among the military officers?

Seeing her furrowed brow, Wenren Lin couldn’t help but laugh: “Why does Your Highness wear such a deeply aggrieved expression? Death is like a lamp being extinguished. This Prince wears these clothes not to mourn the dead, but to remind myself.”

His thick eyelashes cast two faint shadows as he lowered them, saying in a deep voice, “This Prince is not a good person. Your Highness should, as usual, wheedle or even use this Prince, but don’t place too many expectations on me.”

“…What do you mean?”

Zhao Yān tilted her head, not quite understanding.

Wenren Lin’s gaze was tender and pitying as he raised his hand to lightly touch Zhao Yān’s chest, tightly bound with breast bindings, teaching her as he always did in Chongwen Hall.

“Your Highness should guard this clear heart well, don’t let it be disappointed or hurt.”

She was born brilliant. But those who crawl out from the abyss have no future.

Wenren Lin spoke euphemistically, but how could Zhao Yān not understand?

She blinked very slowly, comprehending his meaning, and replied: “Alright.”

Between them, this was indeed how it should be.

She then solemnly nodded again, repeating softly: “I will.”

Despite these words, in that moment, her heart felt as if it had been gently tugged.

A sudden sound, and then it slowly sank, leaving only an unfamiliar sense of melancholy.

On the twelfth day of the eighth month, the autumn session of the Imperial Lectures commenced, with the Emperor gathering his officials at Chongwen Hall for scholarly discussions.

After lengthy ceremonial proceedings, the Emperor sat to the side listening, while officials were arranged neatly on both sides of the lecture hall according to rank, awaiting the lecturer’s instruction.

The Emperor had recently been troubled by the unrest in Luozhou, only appearing on major occasions like the opening of the lectures, leaving the Crown Prince to attend the remaining sessions in his place.

Zhao Yān’s seat was to the left of the Emperor, accompanied by Pei Sa and Liu Baiwei—

Originally, only Pei Sa was to accompany her, but since the young lord was not fond of literary matters, Zhao Yān found a reason to bring Liu Baiwei along to help with any questions she might have.

When Huo Zhenzhen heard that “Crown Prince Brother” would be spending several months attending lectures at Chongwen Hall, she also clamored to attend the Imperial Lectures.

The Emperor, already feeling guilty toward Princess Changfeng over the assassination attempt at the Crown Prince’s birthday, considered briefly before agreeing to let Huo Zhenzhen be a princess’s study companion, attending alongside the unwed Fourth Princess.

A screen hung in the eastern wing room of Chongwen Hall, strictly separating it from the main hall. Before the lecture began, two silhouettes—one lively, one quiet—could faintly be seen taking their seats behind the screen, undoubtedly Huo Zhenzhen and Fourth Princess Zhao Shen.

When taking her seat, Zhao Yān noticed that Pei Sa, who usually despised scholarly matters, had changed into a wide-sleeved scholarly robe and sat properly with his hands on his knees, his gaze following the two graceful figures behind the screen, so absorbed that he failed to notice the purple brush rolling off the table to the floor.

Zhao Yān followed his gaze and smiled knowingly, putting her finger to her chin: “If I recall correctly, the Marquis of Jinping and General Huo are close as brothers, and the families often visit each other, right?”

Pei Sa snapped out of his reverie, somewhat flustered as he withdrew his gaze: “What is Your Highness suggesting?”

“Was the Young Lord looking at an old acquaintance just now?”

“…”

Pei Sa knitted his scarred brow and said firmly, “Does Your Highness think I was looking at Huo Zhenzhen?”

“Weren’t you?”

Zhao Yān was surprised and looked again in the direction of his averted gaze.

Recalling the scene at the birthday banquet when the eunuch attempted assassination, and how Pei Sa instinctively rose to protect both herself and Zhao Shen, Zhao Yān understood something, her eyes widening with even greater shock.

There were only two delicate young ladies seated in the adjoining room; if he wasn’t looking at Huo Zhenzhen, then the one who could make Pei Sa lose himself… could only be her Fourth Sister, Zhao Shen.

Zhao Yān was still young when she was moved to Huayang, so her impression of Zhao Shen wasn’t deep. She only knew that Zhao Shen was born to a palace maid from Yeting Palace, and had suffered a severe illness in her childhood that caused her to lose hearing in her right ear.

She had heard that while Zhao Shen was still ill, her birth mother was sentenced to death for “infidelity,” and afterward, she was given to Noble Consort Xian to raise. But Noble Consort Xian died of illness within two years, and she was then transferred to Consort Xu’s care.

Among the five surviving princesses, Zhao Shen was the only one who still didn’t have a title.

Zhao Yān had seen her only twice since returning to the palace. Each time, she was either hiding in a corner, reading, or daydreaming in a secluded spot. Her humble origins and the disability in her right ear had made Zhao Shen develop an introverted, quiet personality, with an extremely low presence. Even when appearing at family banquets, she always maintained a docile demeanor with lowered eyes.

Strangely, though, Consort Xu, who had always been indifferent and commanding toward Zhao Shen, suddenly acted out of character by requesting the Emperor to arrange Zhao Shen’s marriage to her nephew Xu Maojun, saying she wanted to strengthen family ties.

Zhao Yān had always found this marriage arrangement suspicious. If Consort Xu wanted to help her nephew, why choose the low-born Fourth Princess Zhao Shen?

However doubtful, Zhao Shen’s engagement was a fixed fact.

“Does the Young Lord know that my Fourth Sister is already engaged?”

To prevent Pei Sa from being disrespectful in front of the Emperor, Zhao Yān kindly reminded him, nodding toward a thin young man at the end of the civil officials’ line: “That one is Fourth Sister’s fiancé, Xu Maojun. I hear his compositions are eloquent and brilliant, a rising talent with great ability.”

Pei Sa slightly clenched his fist and replied: “Your subject knows.”

Liu Baiwei sat to the left and behind Zhao Yān, tilting his ear to eavesdrop on secrets, and sneered at the mention: “What ‘great ability’? With my eye for people, that Xu fellow doesn’t have real talent, mostly just empty fame… just wait and see.”

Just as he spoke, the lecture by the Remonstrance Official began, and the hall fell silent. Zhao Yān sat upright and spoke no further.

Sunlight slowly shifted across the tables, milky smoke wafting from the incense burners.

Besides the lecturer’s explanations and occasional questions from the Emperor, not even a cough was heard in the hall.

The Emperor’s few questions were particularly incisive, cutting straight to the core, which surprised Zhao Yān.

Over the years, her impression of her father seemed to be only one of emotionless detachment in Daoist robes, with the heavy smell of genuine incense mixed with medicinal pills.

Liu Baiwei seemed to perceive her thoughts and leaned slightly forward, whispering: “I heard that nineteen years ago, a young man once set a trap at a birthday banquet, executed rebellious princes, eliminated bandits, and after taking power, investigated southern lands, reduced taxes, emphasized agriculture, and boldly implemented several policies, giving the Great Xuan nearly ten years of brief prosperity…”

Intrigued, Zhao Yān asked: “Who was this person?”

Liu Baiwei looked at the Emperor on the main seat with a complex expression and said hoarsely, “Your Highness’s father, the current Emperor.”

Hearing this, Zhao Yān’s expression also grew complex.

The once diligent Emperor, who had revitalized the nation, had now personally overturned the policies he had established, immersing himself in the ethereal pursuit of immortality and Daoist teachings.

“It’s lonely at the top, and easy to lose oneself.”

The one who once spoke for the common people could barely hear their cries now.

Thinking of this, Zhao Yān suddenly said: “Liu Baiwei, do you think that in the future, I might also…”

She had originally wanted to ask if she, too, might forget her original intentions due to her high position…

But on second thought, her identity as “Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace” was false, borrowed, and would eventually have to be returned clean.

The question was truly superfluous.

Liu Baiwei, however, understood her thoughts and laughed freely: “Your Highness need not worry. Even if there comes a time when you forget your original heart, I will strongly remonstrate.”

Zhao Yān shook her head and smiled: “I fear that when that time truly comes, it will be difficult to listen to such candid advice…”

These casual words nevertheless struck Zhao Yān’s heart.

A sudden insight tore through the confusion in her mind, an irrepressible thought springing forth.

When her father strayed from his path years ago, had someone also advised him?

At the hour of Shen (3-5 PM), the day’s Imperial Lecture finally ended. Zhao Yān bowed and followed the crowd out of Chongwen Hall.

Seeing her furrowed brow, Liu Baiwei did not inquire further, only silently accompanying her, escorting her part of the way.

“Liu Baiwei.”

Zhao Yān stopped in the slanting sun and called out, “I’ve heard that Father and General Wenren were once as close as brothers, and his successful ascension to the throne was partly due to the Wenren family’s contribution… is that true?”

“Ah? Oh.”

Liu Baiwei was momentarily stunned, “That’s correct… why does Your Highness suddenly ask this?”

Zhao Yān wasn’t entirely sure herself; she just intuitively felt there were still some unclear connections.

With countless thoughts and a dizzy head, she frowned and pressed her temples, hesitating whether to ask Wenren Lin.

But Wenren Lin didn’t like her crossing boundaries.

Last time she asked him just a few more questions, he immediately warned her “not to have too many expectations” and “to be more clear-headed,” saying various irrelevant things…

Forget it, better not to bother him.

Besides, this had nothing to do with the Eastern Palace, so why meddle in affairs that didn’t concern her?

Zhao Yān let out a breath, absent-mindedly kicking a small stone in front of her: “Let’s go…”

Just as she looked up, she saw someone approaching from the narrow palace path.

In the setting sun, he wore a crimson official robe like blood, floating like a deity.

Zhao Yān’s heart suddenly skipped a beat; before her thoughts could collect, her body reacted first.

She abruptly turned around, urging Liu Baiwei: “Quick, let’s go, quick!”

Watching Zhao Yān’s hurried figure, Wenren Lin’s unhurried steps faltered slightly, his eyes slowly narrowing.