Liu Baiwei was somewhat afraid of Wenren Lin.

He couldn’t understand that man—dangerous and unpredictable—and intelligent people always harbor an innate fear of what they cannot fathom.

Urged by Zhao Yān, he looked back and immediately said with frustration: “I’m already in this state, what could he possibly do to me?”

Zhao Yān sighed: “It’s not because of you.”

She had clearly decided that when facing Wenren Lin, she should always maintain a clear and ordinary mindset, controlling the delicate balance between them. Yet when the moment came, her body’s instinctive reaction was to avoid him.

Liu Baiwei folded his arms, scrutinizing Zhao Yān’s expression, and frowned: “Then did he bully you?”

Zhao Yān was momentarily stunned, then said helplessly: “It’s really not that. Am I someone who can be bullied?”

“That’s true, Your Highness has quite sharp teeth.”

Liu Baiwei felt somewhat relieved, then whispered: “If he ever bullies you, you must tell me. I’m now considered your distant cousin, so I have reason to stand up for you!”

Zhao Yān broke into a smile, and with this distraction, much of her vexation and entanglement dissipated.

…

…

She had many things to do and no time for melancholy, so she composed herself and reorganized her thoughts.

Arriving at Changqing Gate, she saw four or five civil officials gathered around a piece of silk paper, occasionally pointing and laughing, clearly delighted.

“What are they doing?” Zhao Yān asked curiously.

Liu Baiwei glanced over and sneered: “Most likely sharing Xu Maojun’s few poems. Though the poems are structured and pretty, they lack strength and have a somewhat effeminate quality. How do they deserve such praise?”

Zhao Yān knew he didn’t approve and smiled: “If you’re more talented than him, why not enter the arena yourself?”

The Imperial Lectures of this dynasty emphasized selecting the worthy. Following old customs, after each lecture, princes and grandsons of the royal family, along with observers, would gather to practice calligraphy or compose essays on the content discussed by the day’s lecturer. These would be submitted to the Emperor and lecturers, who would circle the excellent works for joint appreciation.

This was an excellent opportunity to be noticed by the Emperor, which was why Xu Maojun had been so eager to showcase himself, hoping to be valued by the Emperor and rise to prominence in one step.

Unfortunately, Liu Baiwei hadn’t picked up his brush, and Zhou Ji disdained seeking fame; otherwise, who would have taken first place today would have been difficult to predict.

“Last year at Mingde Hall, we agreed with the Crown Prince to first enter the court through the spring imperial examination, then debate eloquently at the autumn Imperial Lectures, striving to gain the Emperor’s attention and prepare for future new policies… Who would have thought that eight or nine out of ten successful candidates in the imperial examination would be selected based on family background rather than talent and learning? Your Highness has also seen who’s standing at the Imperial Lectures now?”

At this point, Liu Baiwei snorted derisively, “Those receiving salaries praise each other, elevating even their chickens and dogs. I find it laughable and have no mood to write.”

Liu Baiwei had some youthful arrogance, but what he said was not necessarily untrue.

Zhao Yān said: “That’s why books often say, having worthy ministers is not as good as having an enlightened ruler.”

“Who would disagree? As day reaches dusk, darkness falls; as people reach middle age, it’s hard to maintain clarity. If the Crown Prince were still here…”

Mindful of the approaching palace gate, Liu Baiwei stopped himself in time, folded his arms, and pondered for a long while before deciding, “No, even if I’m the only one left, I must fight to the end. For the next Imperial Lecture, I need to think about writing something to overshadow Xu Maojun.”

Zhao Yān nodded repeatedly, encouraging him: “Then, good luck, Minister Liu. I’m counting on you!”

The two of them chatted like close friends, exchanging knowing smiles.

At Changqing Gate, Zhao Yān quietly looked back. The evening wind blew through the gate, filling her sleeves. In the golden-red sunset, Wenren Lin’s figure was nowhere to be seen.

She didn’t know whether to feel empty or relieved.

“Your Highness?” Liu Baiwei called.

Zhao Yān came back to herself, passed through Changqing Gate with Liu Baiwei, and they each boarded separate carriages and departed.

The Imperial Lectures were held every two days, with the second session on the fourteenth day of the eighth month.

Today, the Emperor was absent, and the attending officials’ postures were slightly more relaxed.

Among them, Wei Yan presided over two courses: one on calligraphy and one on music. With the fragrance of ink and the flow of zither melodies, it was a feast for the senses and the epitome of elegance, leaving everyone entranced, unaware of their surroundings.

Zhao Yān sat upright among a group of nodding noble descendants. Behind her, a civil official in a formal robe tapped his knees lightly to the rhythm of the music, leaning over to whisper to his neighbor: “I only knew the Marquis of Ningyang was unparalleled in calligraphy, with a single piece worth a thousand gold, but I didn’t know his zither playing was so pleasing as well.”

“The Marquis of Ningyang is proficient in music, but his greatest skill isn’t the zither, but the flute.”

The neighbor then laughed and said, “If you had heard his wife play the zither, you would understand what it means to hear the flowing water and the phoenix singing, the divine sounds of celestial mountains.”

Zhao Yān strongly agreed with this.

As a child, she had the fortune to hear her aunt and uncle perform a flute and zither duet, which left a deep impression. Unfortunately, there was no place for women at the Imperial Lectures, and her aunt suffered from frequent palpitations and rarely ventured out. The chance to hear her play seemed as difficult as climbing to heaven.

After the calligraphy and music lessons came Zhou Ji’s lecture on the “Rites of Zhou.”

Even Left Minister Li Kexing came with his cane to listen, and immediately all officials inside and outside the hall stood to make way, bowing to offer a seat to this venerable and respected senior minister.

As the “Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace,” Zhao Yān also rose to perform the student’s greeting, personally inviting Li Kexing to be seated.

The two lecturers exchanged positions, with Zhou Ji and Wei Yan performing scholarly salutations to each other. One stood holding lecture notes behind the desk, while the other carried his zither back to his seat, their every movement exuding extreme elegance.

Today, Zhou Ji was lecturing on the “Suitability of Land” theory from the “Rites of Zhou,” interestingly, a topic Zhao Yān had once debated with him during her studies at Chongwen Hall.

At that time, Zhou Ji hadn’t refuted her views, only calmly saying: “What Your Highness just said sounds very much like one of my old acquaintances.”

Today she realized Zhou Ji hadn’t been unable to debate with her, but had disdained to engage in mere verbal sparring.

In today’s lecture, he used “Suitability of Land” as an entry point, drawing from extensive research to discuss the importance of timely planting of seedlings, timely irrigation, and encouraging agricultural development. Fertile fields yield abundant grain, abundant grain leads to national prosperity… finally concluding with the two characters for “developing revenue sources.”

Zhao Yān had heard that Zhou Ji came from a distinguished family. According to the dynasty’s customs, each senior minister had a certain quota to recommend relatives or disciples for official positions. With Zhou Ji’s family background, he could have had a successful official career without any effort, yet he had stubbornly chosen to take the narrow path of the imperial examinations, winning the top position through his merit.

Zhao Yān had always felt that Zhou Ji was a somewhat boring, rigid person, distant and aloof due to mild face blindness, but once he picked up brush and ink, facing the assembly of officials, he seemed to come alive.

It was as if he navigated through the vast sea of literature, battling with a humble yet resounding manner, utterly engrossed and effective.

The sun gradually slanted westward. The officials listened attentively, occasionally whispering to each other, nodding in agreement.

No one noticed the tall, straight figure that had appeared outside the hall.

The small eunuchs serving tea, upon seeing Wenren Lin, were so frightened they nearly dropped their cups. Just as they were about to prostrate themselves to beg forgiveness, they heard the deputy commander snap:

“Don’t make a sound, get down quickly.”

The small eunuchs saw that Prince Su’s gaze was fixed on Chongwen Hall, indeed having no leisure to punish them, so they finally scurried away.

Wenren Lin watched Zhao Yān sitting at the secondary seat of honor, a “young boy” in formal robes and jade crown, sitting properly, her profile gilded by the warm light of the setting sun, earnestly listening to Zhou Ji’s lecture, sometimes frowning, sometimes brightening.

“Does Your Highness wish to enter and listen?” Zhang Cang quietly inquired.

Wenren Lin’s expression remained neutral as he clasped his hands behind his back and said, “No need.”

Without him, the little Crown Prince still had her own life, which was what he had hoped for.

But…

Wenren Lin gazed silently, savoring the faint constriction in his chest, and after a long while, let out a light, self-mocking laugh.

How odd that he was the one who couldn’t let go?

…

After Zhou Ji’s lesson concluded, everyone indeed gathered again to practice calligraphy and compose essays. This time, Liu Baiwei didn’t hold back, and his composition earned the hall’s applause.

Xu Maojun was outdone and stood awkwardly in the corner for a while, unhappily leaving his seat and exiting. Taking advantage of the moment when no one was paying attention, he lifted the screen and headed toward the eastern wing room.

Inside the wing room sat the Fourth Princess Zhao Shen, quietly reading a book.

Tomorrow happened to be the Mid-Autumn Festival, and the Emperor had arranged an evening banquet in the palace to entertain the officials. After leaving Chongwen Hall, Zhao Yān accompanied Liu Baiwei to the Purple Cloud Pavilion, where the palace banquet was being prepared.

Liu Baiwei wore a smug, meritorious expression: “Did Your Highness see Xu Maojun’s expression just now? Just because his composition was slightly inferior, he pulled a face longer than a donkey’s. How could a truly talented person be so petty? It’s clear he’s all reputation.”

Zhao Yān smiled and said, “Congratulations.”

“If my brothers knew that you flourished in writing today, speaking of matters they had not addressed, they would surely be delighted.”

Liu Baiwei’s countenance grew even more spirited, adding: “Among these noble young masters, only Zhou Wanlan commands some of my respect. It’s a pity that although Zhou Ji lectures brilliantly, he still sticks to the gentry’s rhetoric.”

Just as they were speaking, a commotion was heard ahead.

Two young eunuchs exclaimed, “The Marquis of Jinping’s son and Editor Xu are fighting!”

“Pei Sa?”

Zhao Yān was shocked and hurried toward the sound. Since Pei Sa was the Crown Prince’s companion, if he violated etiquette at the palace gate and alarmed the Emperor, she would also be reprimanded.

Pei Sa, after all, was from a military family with exceptional martial skills. Though it was called “fighting,” it was Pei Sa one-sidedly crushed Xu Maojun, who was covering his head and wailing.

Fourth Princess Zhao Shen stood to the side, nervously twisting her sleeves, her face pale with fright, at a loss for what to do.

“What’s happening?”

Zhao Yān asked, slightly out of breath, gesturing to Liu Baiwei and Li Fu behind her, “Quickly separate them!”

“Stop fighting, both of you, calm down!”

Liu Baiwei tried to pull them apart, but Xu Maojun was so terrified that he inadvertently elbowed the well-intentioned mediator in the jaw.

“…”

As another elbow came his way, Liu Baiwei stumbled back two steps, clutching his extremely painful jaw, unable to speak.

Accustomed to being bold, how could he be someone to suffer grievances?

Immediately saying “Your uncle!” he swung a fist toward Xu Maojun, even joining the fray!

The scene was chaotic, and Zhao Yān helplessly held her forehead.

Li Fu and another eunuch were outnumbered, managing to restrain one but unable to control the other, instantly on the verge of tears: “Sister Liu Ying, go call for some taller, stronger eunuchs! Don’t alarm the Imperial Guards or the Censorate, or our Highness will also be reprimanded today!”

Liu Ying was reluctant to leave Zhao Yān alone and hesitated when she saw a palm gently striking out, hitting Pei Sa and making him stagger back two steps until his back hit the palace wall, immediately turning pale.

Liu Baiwei caught sight of the newcomer and instantly stopped his fists, while only Xu Maojun, scared out of his wits, was still swinging wild, defensive punches.

The next moment, Zhao Yān watched as Xu Maojun’s body rose into the air, describing a beautiful arc before splashing into a shallow water vat beneath the palace wall with a loud splash.

Wenren Lin hadn’t even raised a hand; no one saw clearly how Xu Maojun had flown out.

“Editor Xu might as well clear his head there.”

Wenren Lin stood with his hands behind his back, speaking lightly, and everyone around immediately fell silent as if in winter.

The already introverted and timid Zhao Shen was frightened pale, staggering back a step, and a folded piece of paper fell from her sleeve, caught by the wind and fluttering down to land beneath Zhao Yān’s boot.

Sensing Wenren Lin’s vague gaze, Zhao Yān felt inexplicably awkward, so she lowered her eyes, bent down, and picked up the paper that had fallen from Zhao Shen’s sleeve.

It was an elegantly written composition, clearly from Zhao Shen’s hand.

Zhao Yān didn’t think much of it at the time, just refolded the paper and handed it back to Zhao Shen: “Fourth Sister, here.”

“Th-thank you, Crown Prince.”

Zhao Shen’s voice was as faint as a mosquito’s, her hands trembling as she took the composition back, quickly hiding it in her sleeve.

When Zhao Yān looked back, Wenren Lin had already gone far, seemingly heading toward the banquet.

She paused for a moment, then remembered the matter at hand, gesturing for the arriving palace attendants to help Xu Maojun, who was still splashing around in the vat, to get out and change clothes, ordering everyone present not to speak of this.

Xu Maojun was badly frightened and walked away in a daze, with Zhao Shen following closely behind. After a few steps, she looked back with concern at Pei Sa.

Her pale lips moved slightly, but ultimately said nothing, lowering her head as she walked away.

Zhao Yān looked at Pei Sa, who was frowning and holding his chest, and said seriously: “Now will the Young Lord explain why he was fighting with Xu Maojun?”

Pei Sa was initially unwilling to reveal the reason, but seeing Zhao Yān’s face darken, he turned his head away and said: “That Xu fellow was joking with his colleagues, comparing the Fourth Princess to a brothel woman.”

Zhao Yān now understood: Xu Maojun looked down on her Fourth Sister for her humble origins and muteness, and probably, taking advantage of the Fourth Princess’s hearing impairment, had made some crude jokes with his companions.

He deserved the beating.

Pei Sa probably also knew he would implicate the Crown Prince and softened his tone: “Your Highness need not worry. Your subject exercised restraint, specifically hitting places under his clothes where marks wouldn’t be visible, leaving no evidence. If His Majesty questions it, I alone will take responsibility.”

What “restraint” indeed!

Zhao Yān nearly failed to suppress her laughter.

“Alright, although your action was to defend the Princess’s honor, it was still somewhat rash. Your punishment will be to return and face the wall to reflect.”

Saying this, Zhao Yān looked at Li Fu, “Take the Young Lord to see the Imperial Physician.”

After all, Wenren Lin was someone who could send Chou Zui flying into a wall with a single palm, making him vomit blood. Even though he had held back, that strike was enough to make Pei Sa suffer.

“Thank you for Your Highness’s leniency.”

Pei Sa solemnly clasped his fists in salute before turning to leave.

Liu Ying worriedly said: “Should Your Highness inform the Empress about letting Young Lord Pei go? What if Editor Xu complains to His Majesty…”

“Don’t worry, he wouldn’t dare.”

Liu Baiwei rolled down his sleeves and snorted, “He can’t keep his mouth shut and has slandered a current Princess. How could he have the face to complain?”

Night fell, lights illuminated every household, and the stars flowed and surged toward the human world.

Entering Purple Cloud Pavilion, Zhao Yān’s sharp eyes noticed that another seat had been arranged to the left of her dining table.

And the only person in the entire Great Xuan who could sit adjacent to the Emperor, ranking above the Crown Prince, was only one…

That was Wenren Lin’s position.

However, since he had not yet taken his seat, Zhao Yān sat down with a normal mindset, focusing on nibbling the purple jade grapes in front of her.

At the palace banquet, Xu Maojun indeed didn’t dare complain to the Emperor, but after the banquet began, he stood up to bow in greeting and presented a Daoist prayer text he had composed.

The eunuch in attendance accepted the prayer text with both hands and, at the Emperor’s gesture, read it aloud. The elegant wording was jaw-dropping.

Liu Baiwei’s face showed disdain; scholars all have inherent pride and somewhat look down upon such fawning sycophants who curry favor with prayers to ghosts and gods.

But Zhao Yān felt increasingly that something was wrong; this prayer text sounded very familiar.

Especially when she heard the line “Departing from the celestial realm to ride auspicious clouds, as the Way unites, all things flourish,” her eyes brightened, and she instinctively recalled the piece of paper that had fallen from Fourth Sister Zhao Shen’s sleeve.

Why was the prayer text Xu Maojun presented identical to the one in her Fourth Sister’s hand?

Who wrote this prayer text?

Zhao Yān vaguely remembered that Xu Maojun had previously been unknown, only rising to prominence after this year’s imperial examination, making rapid progress.

After the imperial examination was precisely when Zhao Shen and Xu Maojun were betrothed…

A conjecture formed in her mind, and she turned to motion Liu Ying closer, whispering: “Go tell Liu Baiwei to find a way to test Xu Maojun.”

Liu Ying accepted the command and quietly withdrew.

Just as everything was arranged, they heard the eunuch at the hall entrance announcing Prince Su’s late arrival, and the cheerful conversation in the hall immediately halved.

Palace maids set out exquisite dishes, accompanied by a beautifully colored pomegranate-colored wine served in a crystal cup.

That familiar crimson official robe gradually approached, and Zhao Yān lowered her eyes in a show of concealment. Thinking the cup contained grape wine, she picked it up without hesitation and drank it all at once…

The taste was off, somewhat fishy and sour.

Zhao Yān frowned, just as she was suspecting whether something unclean had been mixed into the wine, she heard her father say from his seat: “Today I happened to obtain fresh male deer blood, specially mixed with light wine for all the ministers to enjoy together!”

Deer… deer blood wine?

Zhao Yān was stunned, feeling the wine in her stomach transform into heat, slowly burning within her.

Wenren Lin took his seat and, seeming to notice her discomfort, silently looked over with his dark eyes.