The Ninth Princess’s name inscribed in the Imperial Genealogy was Zhao Ying.

She was older, the first among the children to go study at the Wenhua Hall (NT: Hall of Literary Splendour). Zhao Chu seemed to place especially high hopes upon her, to the extent that, besides appointing her two companions-in-study, he even summoned several children of noble families into the palace to study together.

For a time, the Hall of Literary Brilliance was filled with lively bustle.

As for Zhao Chu, apart from handling state affairs, every few days he would take time to personally test Zhao Ying on her lessons.

Before this, Zhao Ying had not read a single day of books, so much so that she had to begin her studies with learning the strokes of characters, and was far behind the other children.

Yet Zhao Chu did not show her any extra leniency on account of this.

But Zhao Ying possessed an intelligence beyond the ordinary. Not only could she remember characters at a glance, she also memorized texts faster than the other children.

Unexpectedly, Zhao Chu not only refrained from praising her, but had her tutor accelerate her progress alone: while others memorized one passage per day, she was required to memorize two.

That day, when Fang Linyuan returned to the palace from the Imperial Academy, he saw Zhao Ying standing before Zhao Chu’s desk, reciting from memory.

She was halfway through when Fang Linyuan, afraid to interrupt, hid himself behind the door to listen.

As he listened, Fang Linyuan could not help but sigh inwardly.

The Book of Rites—he himself had barely managed to memorize it when he was over ten years old. Yet Zhao Ying, only seven or eight, not only recited such difficult passages, but did so fluently.

In those two long essays, aside from a few sentences at the very end that she blurred over, she had stumbled only a handful of times.

But when she finished, Zhao Chu had already, without expression, marked out every mistake and hesitation.

“These places—go back and copy them out ten times each, and hand them in the next time you see Us.” Zhao Chu said lightly.

Behind the door, Fang Linyuan’s eyes went wide.

…Ten times?

Even this wasn’t satisfactory? Zhao Chu was far too strict!

He leaned his head forward just slightly and saw Zhao Chu toss the book into Zhao Ying’s hands, saying: “You cannot even memorize a few lines properly—when will your tutor ever be able to teach you to write policy essays?”

To teach policy essays to a child of seven or eight—did Zhao Chu even know how the four characters “pulling up seedlings to help them grow” (揠苗助長) were written?!

Fang Linyuan really couldn’t stand it any longer. He immediately pushed the door open, pretending he had just returned, and greeted Zhao Ying with a smile: “The Ninth Highness is here as well?”

Zhao Chu glanced at him, while Zhao Ying lowered her head to salute him.

“Reciting lessons, are you?” Fang Linyuan acted as though he had just noticed the Book of Rites in her hands. He stepped forward and stretched out his hand to take it from her.

“The Book of Rites?” He feigned surprise, raising his eyes to Zhao Ying. “You’ve already reached this? I only heard from Master Jiang a few days ago that you started late, and still don’t recognize many characters.”

Zhao Ying nodded and replied: “I learn to write as I read—it goes quickly.”

“That must be rather tiring.” Fang Linyuan said, tucking the book behind him. “I hear you will have a few days’ rest soon? Then don’t study—let your eyes rest a while. I heard your Uncle Zhu Song said you’ve already learned half of the Six Secret Teachings, and he specially had a small sword made for you as a reward. Since you’ve no lessons these days, go to the Imperial Academy to find him.”

(NT: The Six Secret Teachings (Liù Tāo) is an ancient Chinese classic on military strategy and statecraft.)

Zhao Ying’s eyes lit up at once. She wanted to nod, but hesitated and looked toward Zhao Chu.

“Go.” Zhao Chu said indifferently, as though he had not noticed Fang Linyuan hiding her book.

Zhao Ying immediately broke into a smile and nodded rapidly at Fang Linyuan: “I want to learn the spear, Fifth Brother-in-law.”

“The spear, is it?” Fang Linyuan laughed. “A spear is heavier than a sword. When you’ve mastered the sword, I’ll give you a spear.”

Zhao Ying rarely revealed such joyfully childish expression; she nodded eagerly to him.

“Go on.”

Only after Zhao Ying left did Fang Linyuan let out a long sigh of relief.

“Don’t bother hiding it.” Zhao Chu’s voice came from beside him. “I saw long ago.”

Fang Linyuan turned and found Zhao Chu’s brows and eyes carrying the hint of a faint smile as he looked at him.

He chuckled a few times, then placed the Book of Rites on Zhao Chu’s desk.

“She’s still young—don’t be so strict with her.” Fang Linyuan stepped closer, but before he could finish speaking, Zhao Chu seized his wrist and pulled him down onto the dragon throne.

The throne was broad, more than spacious enough for two.

Only after sitting did Fang Linyuan realize that amidst the piles of memorials on the imperial desk, several plates of fresh pastries had been set out.

Naturally, they had been prepared for him. His eyes lit up, and he picked one out.

“It’s not that I insist on being strict with her.” As he ate, Zhao Chu said evenly.

“Oh?” Fang Linyuan looked at him.

“The children in the Imperial Academy are of all ages, and they have all already studied and can read. Having her recite and copy more early on lets her recognize characters sooner.” Zhao Chu said. “It is fair this way, and will do her no harm.”

For years now he had worn the dragon robe, and with time, apart from making some adjustments to fit his face, his attire had gradually blurred the distinctions of male and female. His voice, too, had grown much deeper.

Day by day, this way of being made his movements and bearing far more convenient, and the officials had, without noticing, grown accustomed.

So much so that both in and outside the palace, a new trend was gradually taking root: women’s dress becoming simpler and more practical. Besides saving expense, it also made running or horseback riding easier, unimpeded by the hindrance of long skirts, so that they could travel long distances without restraint.

“There’s no real harm, but since she’s still a child, she ought to have some of the joys of being one.”
Fang Lin-yuan gradually stopped reminding him on such trifling matters; hearing Zhao Chu say this, he only smiled.

“If she wishes for power, then some pleasures should be cast aside early,” Zhao Chu replied.

Fang Lin-yuan fixed his gaze on him.

After a brief stare-down, Zhao Chu yielded. “A little pleasure is acceptable,” he said. “Just now, when you told her to go play with Zhu Song, didn’t I also say nothing?”

Fang Lin-yuan laughed at him: “Isn’t it simply because you want her to shoulder great responsibility as early as possible, so she may inherit the throne? Since you think so far ahead, you ought also to think for yourself.”

“Think of what?”

“She has no blood ties with you. If one day she comes to resent you, what will you do when you are old and weak? Do you expect her to still be filial toward you?”

Zhao Chu’s brows arched; it seemed he truly had not considered this. His gaze flickered slightly as he turned his head toward Fang Lin-yuan.

And there he met Fang Lin-yuan’s smiling, crescent-eyed stare.

After a moment of silence, Zhao Chu chuckled softly, reaching out to pinch his face. “Isn’t there still you?” he said. “That little girl seems to like you very much.”

“That’s because I treat her as a friend. I’m so loyal, and I’m close to her; naturally, she treats me well.” Fang Lin-yuan folded his arms and studied Zhao Chu. “As for you… when the time comes, it’ll depend on your performance.”

Zhao Chu leaned his chin on his hand, smiling as he asked, “Then, Lord Fang, what would count as good performance?”

Fang Lin-yuan folded his arms, his expression full of mystery.

“...”

Zhao Chu nodded.

“Then first of all, hand over that Tianshan cold-iron the Loulan envoy tributed some days ago.” Fang Lin-yuan gave Zhao Chu a sidelong glance.

Zhao Chu laughed twice, then reached out and pulled down the arms Fang Lin-yuan had crossed before his chest.

“Feigning mystery—so you’d already had your eye on that tribute?” he asked.

“What nonsense!” Fang Lin-yuan hurriedly said. “I meant, Ninth Highness wants a spear; we could use it to forge one for her!”

At this, Zhao Chu gave an “ah” and said, “In that case, what a pity.”

“What?” Fang Lin-yuan was puzzled.

Then Zhao Chu rose, circled behind a screen, and with one hand drew forth an object.

With a clear clang, the sound alone told it was a divine weapon.

Fang Lin-yuan’s eyes lit up.

What Zhao Chu brought out single-handed was a seven-foot silver spear. Its shaft, forged from Tianshan cold-iron, gleamed with its unique argent glow. At the spearhead, a coiling flood dragon entwined the haft; from its gaping jaws jutted the spear’s point, shining with icy brilliance.

Fang Lin-yuan shot to his feet. “This… this…”

“Too late. This spear’s already been forged. Zhao Ying likely won’t be able to use it.”

Zhao Chu stood there holding the spear in one hand, tilting his head to glance at Fang Lin-yuan.

Fang Lin-yuan rushed up in a few steps, taking the spear with both hands. He cradled it, looking it over again and again, utterly reluctant to part with it.

“To think it could be made so beautiful!” he said. “The shaft so smooth, the tip so sharp— I’ve long heard Tianshan cold-iron cuts iron as if it were mud. Now I truly must test it myself!”

His eyes were wholly caught by the spear, while at his side Zhao Chu lowered his gaze, his eyes filled with Fang Lin-yuan’s look of joy.

“Once the envoy delivered it, I sent it to the Ministry of Internal Affairs. They spent more than forty days forging it; it was only delivered today,” Zhao Chu said. “As for whether it’s sharp, no one’s used it yet—you’ll have to test it yourself.”

Fang Lin-yuan held the spear for a long while before coming back to his senses.

Then worry flickered across him.

“What about Ninth Highness?” he asked. “Materials of this quality are rare in the palace. Since I promised her, I ought to give her something worthy.”

“There are fine mines aplenty in the world—it won’t be impossible to forge her a spear.”

Zhao Chu, unconcerned, slid his arm around him together with the spear, drawing him into his embrace.

“Besides, this is something I meant for my own consort. Why should it be given to another?” Zhao Chu said with a low laugh.

“If she likes it, then she can win the throne with her own skill. By then, she may demand it from the Loulan people herself.”

Translator : DarNan