Standing before the gate was His Highness the Fifth Prince—cold as ice and beautiful.

Fang Linyuan was selected into the palace together with several children of prominent families.

It was one afternoon when they were led by eunuchs into the Golden Hall to meet the Emperor. Perhaps because of the Empress’s fierce methods, there were always many rumors among the people about her cruelty and ruthlessness. As a result, all the children kneeling on either side of Fang Linyuan did not dare to lift their heads; trembling as they knelt on the ground.

Only Fang Linyuan did not.

What was there to be afraid of? Surely the Empress could not be more unreasonable than his father? Even if he failed to recite from the books, she would hardly take a ruler and beat him into running about the Golden Hall.

Thus, when the Empress questioned them one by one, Fang Linyuan—though he had read the least—answered with the most upright confidence.

As expected, when Her Majesty the Empress heard that he had only read some of the Four Books and had not even begun the Five Classics, instead of being angry, she lightly laughed.

“I heard from your father and brother that your spear skills are excellent,” she said.

At this, Fang Linyuan no longer felt drowsy.

“Replying to Your Majesty, I have already mastered all twenty-four forms from the Record of Arm Techniques. At present I am practicing horsemanship and archery. My tutor says that to learn only the spear but not horsemanship is like swimming on dry land—utterly impossible…”

He lifted his head, his eyes bright.

And in the next moment, he saw, sitting below the throne of the Empress, that delicately carved little figure—the… Fifth Prince.

He was indeed beautiful.

His eyes, like the gleam of an arrow at night, were cold and bright, showing a clarity and solemn composure far beyond his age.

But still—so beautiful. Fang Linyuan was young, and his study of the Book of Songs was sloppy at best; he could not summon a fitting metaphor. He only felt that the Fifth Prince was like plum blossoms in winter—covered with frost and snow, yet radiant and brilliant.

(NT: The Book of Songs (Chinese: 《诗经》 Shījīng) is the oldest existing collection of Chinese poetry, compiled around the 11th–7th centuries BCE.)

To think there could be someone so dazzling even in men’s attire!

The rest of Fang Linyuan’s words gradually faded away. His gaze simply could not tear itself aside; he stole several glances at His Highness the Fifth Prince.

No wonder the Empress Dowager had once dressed him in skirts… If he had such a younger brother himself, he too would want to see him in skirts.

But Fang Linyuan did not notice how the Empress’s calm gaze passed over him, glanced at Zhao Chu by her side, and then, naturally, picked up his words.

“Already riding horses?” she said. “Truly gifted with extraordinary talent. But Fang Duo’s child cannot learn only martial skills without also studying the art of war.”

At once, Fang Linyuan’s attention was drawn back.

“Your Majesty, I do know the art of war!” he said. “The Art of War, Six Secret Teachings, Tiger Tally Classic, and New Treatise on Military Efficiency—I can recite them all! Your Majesty may test me however you please—I can even recite them backward!”

This time, even the Empress herself—ordinarily cold, taciturn, and sparing of smiles—was amused into a soft laugh.

“That is very good,” she said. “You are a clever child.”

*

Together with several other children, Fang Linyuan naturally became Zhao Chu’s study companion.

In truth, His Highness hardly needed anyone to study with him.

Whenever he went anywhere, he was accompanied by large numbers of palace maids and eunuchs, like an emperor going to court. Whatever the tutors taught, he already knew; and in daily life, he rarely spoke more than a few words to anyone.

Fang Linyuan’s daily task was simply to follow along in study: the two seated on opposite sides of a desk, studying the classics in the morning and practicing martial arts in the afternoon.

But Fang Linyuan was always sleepy in the mornings. The tutors always taught according to Zhao Chu’s progress, which was far too fast; he could never keep up or understand fully.

After struggling hard for a few days, Fang Linyuan finally gave up. After all, he was not going to sit for the civil service exams. So in the days that followed, he either secretly read military books under his textbooks or held his book up as a cover while stealing glances at His Highness the Fifth Prince reading.

It was only that he was far too gorgeous. Fang Linyuan had never seen anyone so beautiful and was endlessly curious.

Fortunately, the Fifth Prince seemed entirely absorbed when reading, never once noticing.

And in the afternoons—it was Fang Linyuan’s stage.

The martial instructors especially favored him. After all, he was skilled with the spear, able to ride, and once placed in the drill ground, he could practically serve as a junior instructor himself.

As for His Highness the Fifth Prince—he was still too young, and the Empress raised him with strict discipline. At his age, horsemanship was arduous.

Thus, one day, the Fifth Prince’s horse suddenly reared, throwing him to the ground right in front of Fang Linyuan.

Fang Linyuan was startled.

He quickly dismounted: “Are you all right, Your Highness? Are you hurt?”

The prince only shook his head, rose on his own, and brushed the dust from his robe.

Yet Fang Linyuan had clearly seen—the coarse sand of the riding ground had scraped both of the prince’s palms raw, leaving them bloody.

Fang Linyuan hastily searched himself for the handkerchief his mother had tucked into his clothes.

But the moment his fingers closed around the cloth, he felt a handful of hard, clattering marbles.

Hiss… He had forgotten.

He had hidden inside his handkerchief a set of fine glass marbles, tribute from the Wang family’s son in exchange for his deerskin cuju ball.

As he pulled the handkerchief out, the marbles spilled everywhere. For a moment Fang Linyuan was caught in an impossible dilemma, raising his head awkwardly to glance at His Highness.

And he saw those clear, limpid eyes glance at him once, then lower, as the prince silently took his own handkerchief from his sleeve to tend to his scraped hands.

“I am fine,” the Fifth Prince said.

Even his voice was so pleasant to hear!

In that instant, Fang Linyuan, overcome by impulse, pulled out his own handkerchief: “Use mine instead!”

But before the words had even fallen, a crisp jingling sound was already ringing out.

The fine glass marbles he had been treasuring spilled out with a clatter, rolling all across the ground.

How utterly mortifying.

Luckily, the palace maids and eunuchs hurried over from a distance, whisking His Highness the Fifth Prince away to be bandaged.

And Fang Linyuan, for his part, crouched down to gather up all his precious marbles from the ground and tuck them back into his bosom.

Yet, after having just looked into those black, bright, and crystalline eyes of the Fifth Prince, the glass marbles that should have been dazzling beyond compare somehow now felt… lacking.

Missing a certain flavor.

*

Sure enough, daydreaming in class was never going to work as a long-term strategy.

Within a couple of days, Fang Linyuan’s military texts were confiscated by the tutor. As punishment, he was ordered to copy Nine Songs five times in the Wenhua Hall after martial practice in the evening before being allowed to return home.

Five times! Nine Songs!

The tutor truly understood the principle of “strike a snake at seven inches”! (NT: ie. the teacher knew exactly how to punish Fang Linyuan most painfully)

Those Spring and Autumn, Warring States poems—every other line filled with xi this and xi that—were even worse than the Tang Monk reciting scriptures!

(NT: 兮 (xī) is a classical Chinese particle used in poetry as a rhythmic filler)

(NT: Tang Seng is the monk from Journey to the West, who recites Buddhist scriptures constantly — so much that even his disciples get annoyed.)

But Fang Linyuan knew he was in the wrong, so he could only swallow his losses. In the past, after the instructor left, he would still ride his horse around the training ground for another half hour. This time, however, he returned straight to Wenhua Hall early, spread out paper and brush, and began copying.

The setting sun poured through the open window and swaying bamboo, spilling across the desk. Like a little monk chanting sutras, he recited one line and copied one line.

“Auspicious is the day, the time is fair; in solemn joy I go to the High Sovereign…”

Just then, faint voices drifted in from outside the door.

“My father insists I come keep the Fifth Prince company with his studies. I already told him I don’t want to…”

“Exactly! There are so many rules in the palace, and the tutor goes at his pace. Not only can’t I follow, but the Fifth Prince is so proud and aloof. Forget playing with us—he doesn’t even bother to look at us. What’s the fun in that?”

They were the other children who had entered the palace along with him. Fang Linyuan recognized their voices.

He stopped his brush and looked up.

“Just the other day, I accidentally glanced at the Fifth Prince twice, and he asked me if I wanted to keep my eyes!” one whispered complaint. “He’s too unreasonable. I didn’t even look at him that much…”

“Heavens, that’s vicious!”

“My mother said, he’s already… abnormal.”

The one who had first complained lowered his voice.

“My mother said, boys who are made to wear women’s clothes from childhood are already not like us. By now, he probably still thinks of himself as some grand young lady!”

He spoke with a mysterious air—then chuckled.

But scarcely had he laughed twice, not even stepping fully into Wenhua Hall, when a cold voice rang out from within.

“What did you just say.”

The boys jumped in fright.

The tutor and the prince had both already left, Wenhua Hall should have been empty. Terrified, they quickly looked up and saw Fang Linyuan standing behind the desk, ink still staining one of his hands.

The boy who had spoken earlier froze, then forced a laugh. “Ah, it’s Young Lord Fang? Why haven’t you gone back yet—what are you writing there…”

“I asked you, what did you just say!” Fang Linyuan’s brows furrowed tight; he ignored the flattery entirely.

The boy faltered, caught in an impossible spot. After staring at Fang Linyuan for a while, he finally muttered, “Don’t go telling the Fifth Prince on us…”

“If you’re afraid I’ll disclose it, how dare you still say such things?” Fang Linyuan shot back. “Speaking ill of others behind their back—what sort of ‘true man’ does that make you?”

For a child of six or seven years old to invoke the words “true man” might have been premature.

But Fang Linyuan carried a natural aura of uprightness, and with his clear, ringing boy’s voice, his words landed like a heavy weight. For a moment, none of them dared speak.

“I… I know I was wrong. I won’t say it again.”

After a brief standoff, the boy who had started the mockery hung his head in defeat and admitted fault.

“If you dare speak one more word against the Fifth Prince, I’ll thrash you each time.” Fang Linyuan didn’t forget to warn him.

And when it came to fighting, even all of them together were no match for Fang Linyuan—not to mention that his father was the Duke of Anguo, who commanded military power. The boys bowed repeatedly in apology, not daring to linger, and ran away in despair.

Fang Linyuan kept his gaze fixed on them until they left, then finally lowered his eyes.

He had looked fierce, but in truth, the very moment he’d spoken the first word, his nerves had shown.

Just now… in order to make himself sound more imposing, he had slapped his brush against the inkstone while demanding their answer.

And the result… unable to control his strength, the brush—soaked with ink—rolled right across his paper, staining an entire finished sheet of copied text.

A whole sheet!!

Fang Linyuan nearly yanked at his own hair and leapt up in despair.

But just as his face was collapsing, the corner of his eye caught sight of a figure near the side door not far away.

It was the side hall where the Wenhua Hall’s books were stored. The door stood open, and before it stood that cold and beautiful Fifth Prince, holding two books in one arm.

Eh…?

The Fifth Prince had been here all along? How had he not noticed?

 

Translator : DarNan